Delightful Acts: New Essays on Canonical and Non-canonical Acts (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen Zum Neuen Testament) 9783161544774, 3161544773

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Delightful Acts: New Essays on Canonical and Non-canonical Acts

Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Herausgeber / Editor Jörg Frey (Zürich) Mitherausgeber / Associate Editors Markus Bockmuehl (Oxford) · James A. Kelhoffer (Uppsala) Hans-Josef Klauck (Chicago, IL) · Tobias Nicklas (Regensburg) J. Ross Wagner (Durham, NC)

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Delightful Acts New Essays on Canonical and Non-canonical Acts Edited by

Harold W. Attridge, Dennis R. MacDonald, and Clare K. Rothschild

Mohr Siebeck

Harold W. Attridge: Born 1946; 1967 A. B. Boston College; 1969 B. A. Cambridge University; 1975 PhD Harvard University; currently Sterling Professor of Divinity, Yale Divinity School. Dennis R. MacDonald: Born 1946; 1968 B. A. Bob Jones University; 1972 M.Div. McCormick Theological Seminary; 1978 PhD Harvard University; currently Research Professor, Claremont School of Theology. Clare K. Rothschild: Born 1964; 1986 B. A. University of California, Berkeley; 1992 M. T. S. Harvard University; 2003 PhD University of Chicago; currently Professor of Scripture at Lewis University.

ISBN 978-3-16-154477-4 ISSN 0512-1604 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data is available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.

© 2017  by Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen, Germany. www.mohr.de This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was typeset by Martin Fischer in Tübingen, printed by Gulde Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

For Richard I. Pervo

σχολαστικός, φιλογέλως, φίλος

ἔστι γὰρ ὁ φίλος ἄλλος αὐτός. – Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics 1166a

Acknowledgements The impetus for this collection of essays on canonical and non-canonical Acts is to honor the life and scholarly achievements of our friend Richard I. Pervo. As many readers will know, Richard was arguably the most brilliant commentator on canonical Acts of our generation. Like Henry Joel Cadbury in the prior generation, Richard dedicated most of his career to the study of this text, reimagining its purpose by comparing it to the widest possible array of ancient sources (Acts: A Commentary, Fortress, 2009). In the course of his research he came to regard Acts as comparable to ancient fiction. The various episodes about Peter, Paul, and the other apostles, he argued, were composed with the express purpose of entertaining as they informed, or as Richard put it, they provided “profit with delight” (Profit with Delight, Fortress 1987). In addition to this new vision of the genre of Acts, Richard moved the date of Acts to half a century later than the consensus and argued for the author’s reliance on an early corpus of Paul’s letters, despite obvious discrepancies between the two data sets (Dating Acts, Polebridge 2006). And, this barely grazes the surface of Richard’s many interesting and profound contributions to scholarship as the reader will see in the comprehensive bibliography provided at the end of this volume. Corresponding to his pioneering thesis about the genre of Acts, Richard was also well known in the guild for his ability to teach and engage learners through humor. Mercilessly provoking audiences to laughter, his wit was wry and – for the discerning listener – detectable in virtually every sentence he wrote or spoke. He attracted crowds wherever he went – some who just wanted to laugh, others keen to uncover the deeper message beneath the ruse. Richard himself rarely cracked a smile. But that is not to say that he was untoward or did not delight with the delighted. Only that he was a disciplined comedian with a strong distaste for public acts of self-indulgence. To be sure, the rest of us are hardly as contained. Sides ached from laughter in Richard’s wake. I know that I speak for all three editors when I say that the idea for this volume is perhaps the most obvious anyone ever had. To honor a figure of such extreme erudition, and one who has given so generously to our guild, is pure privilege. Likewise, each contributor to this volume expressed joy in the invitation to honor Richard with new work. I think that readers will agree that a certain euphoria comes across in the essays. No one anticipated his passing before we could present to him this book. The editors wish to thank Dr. Henning Ziebritzki at Mohr Siebeck for his interest in this work, as well as Prof. Dr. Jörg Frey, for his

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recommendation of the manuscript to the WUNT series. As always, the editorial support team at Mohr Siebeck ably assisted in the production of this work. Clare K. Rothschild Chicago, IL

Table of Contents Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VII Abbreviations and References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XI Clare K. Rothschild Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

I. Essays Harold W. Attridge Paul and Pentheus: What’s in a Possible Allusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Clayton N. Jefford Rethinking the Relationship of Acts and the Didache . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Amy-Jill Levine Tabitha / ​Dorcas, Spinning Off Cultural Criticism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Dennis R. MacDonald The Son of Man in Acts 7:56 and His Origin in the Lost Gospel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 Troy W. Martin Peter and the Expansion of Early Christianity in the Letters of Acts (15:23–29) and First Peter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 Shelly Matthews Fleshly Resurrection, Wifely Submission, and the Myth of the Primal Androgyne: The Link between Luke 24:39 and Ephesians 5:30 . . . . . . . . . . 101 David P. Moessner “The Strange ‘New Dish’ Called Acts!”  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 Mikeal C. Parsons The Interrelationship of Friendship, Hospitality, and Philanthropy in Luke’s Writings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139

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Mark Reasoner The Open Stage of Luke and Acts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 Clare K. Rothschild Perfect Martyr? Dangerous Material in the Stoning of Stephen . . . . . . . . . . 177 Melissa Harl Sellew James and the Rejection of Apostolic Authority in the Gospel of Thomas . 193 Janet E. Spittler Joking and Play in the Acts of John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209 Angela Standhartinger Better Ending: Paul at the Roman Colonia Philippi in Acts 16 . . . . . . . . . . . 227

II. Complete Bibliography: Richard I. Pervo Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247

List of Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273 Index of Ancient Citations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275 Index of Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 294 Index of Subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299

Abbreviations and References AB ACTS AJS AnBib ANRW

Anchor Bible Association of Colleges and Theological Schools (Chicago, IL) Association of Jewish Studies Analecta Biblica Aufstieg und Niedergang der Römischen Welt, ed. Hildegard Temporini and Wolfgang Haase (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1972–) ATR Anglican Theological Review BBR Bulletin for Biblical Research BETL Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium BHGNT Baylor Handbook on the Greek New Testament BI Biblical Interpretation Bib Biblica BibInt Biblical Interpretation BibLeb Bibel und Leben BR Biblical Research BTB Biblical Theology Bulletin BTSt Biblical Tools and Studies BZ Biblische Zeitschrift BZNW Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft CAGN Collected Ancient Greek Novels, ed. Brian P. Reardon (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008) CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly CBQMS Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series CRBR Critical Review of Books in Religion CRINT Compendia Rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum CurTM Currents in Theology and Mission DNP Der neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, ed. Hubert Cancik and Helmuth Schneider (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1996–) EBib Etudes Bibliques EKKNT Evangelisch-Katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament ET English translation FCNTECW Feminist Companion to the New Testament and Early Christian Writings FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments HBS Herders biblische Studien HDR Harvard Dissertations in Religion HNT Handbuch zum Neuen Testament HTR Harvard Theological Review ICC International Critical Commentary IG Inscriptiones Graecae Int Interpretation JBL Journal of Biblical Literature

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Abbreviations and References

JECS Journal of Early Christian Studies JFSR Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion JR Journal of Religion JSNT Journal for the Study of the New Testament JSNTSup Journal for the Study of the New Testament, Supplements JSP Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha JSPSup Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha, Supplements JTS Journal of Theological Studies KEK Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament LCL Loeb Classical Library LEC Library of Early Christianity LNTS Library of New Testament Studies LXX Septuagint MS(S) Manuscript(s) NAC New American Commentary Neot Neotestamentica NH Nag Hammadi NHC Nag Hammadi Codex NHLE Nag Hammadi Library in English, ed. James M. Robinson, 4th rev. ed. (Leiden: Brill, 1996) NHMS Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies NIGTC New International Greek Testament Commentary NovT Novum Testamentum NovTSup Supplements to Novum Testamentum NPNF The Nicene and Post Nicene Fathers NRSV New Revised Standard Version NTAbh Neutestamentliche Abhandlungen NTL New Testament Library NTS New Testament Studies OBT Overtures to Biblical Theology ÖTK Ökumenischer Taschenbuch-Kommentar OSHT Oxford Studies in Historical Theology OTP Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. James H. Charlesworth, 2 vols. (New York: Doubleday, 1983, 1985) PCNT Paideia Commentaries on the New Testament PG Patrologiae cursus completus: Series graeca, ed. J.-P. Migne, 162 vols. (Paris, 1857–86) PL Patrologiae cursus completus: Series latina, ed. J.-P. Migne, 217 vols. (Paris, 1844–64) PRSt Perspectives in Religious Studies RB Revue Biblique RPP Religion Past and Present: Encyclopedia of Theology and Religion, ed. Hans Dieter Betz et al., 14 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2007–13) RSR Religious Studies Review SBB Stuttgarter Biblische Beiträge SBL Society of Biblical Literature SBLDS Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series SBLECL Society of Biblical Literature Early Christianity and Its Literature

Abbreviations and References

SBLRBS SBLSP SBLSymS SC SecCent SEG SNTS SNTSMS SP StPatr STRev TANZ TCGNT

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Society of Biblical Literature Resources for Biblical Study Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series Sources chrétiennes Second Century Supplementum epigraphicum graecum Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Sacra Pagina Studia Patristica Sewanee Theological Review Texte und Arbeiten zur neutestamentlichen Zeitalter Bruce Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, 2nd ed. (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1994) TDNT Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, ed. Gerhard Kittel and Gerhard Friedrich, trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley, 10 vols. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964–76) TENT Texts and Editions for New Testament Study THkNT Theologischer Handkommentar zum Neuen Testament ThStKr Theologische Studien und Kritiken TLC The Living Church TLG Thesaurus Linguae Graecae TM Tuesday Morning TU Texte und Untersuchungen TWNT Theologische Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament, ed. Gerhard Kittel and Gerhard Friedrich (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1932–79) TZ Theologische Zeitschrift VC Vigiliae christianae VCSup Vigiliae christianae, Supplements VirSemJrnl Virginia Seminary Journal WBC Word Biblical Commentary WUNT Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament ZNW Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft

Biblical Literature Col Colossians 1 Cor 1 Corinthians 2 Cor 2 Corinthians Dan Daniel Deut Deuteronomy Eph Ephesians Exod Exodus Ezek Ezekiel Gen Genesis Heb Hebrews Isa Isaiah

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Abbreviations and References

Josh Joshua Lev Leviticus 1 Macc 1 Maccabees 2 Macc 2 Maccabees Matt Gospel according to Matthew Num Numbers 1 Pet 1 Peter 2 Pet 2 Peter Phil Philemon Prov Proverbs Ps Psalms Rev Revelation Rom Romans 1 Sam 1 Samuel 2 Sam 2 Samuel Sir Ben Sirach 1 Thess 1 Thessalonians 2 Thess 2 Thessalonians 1 Tim 1 Timothy 2 Tim 2 Timothy Tit Titus Tob Tobit

Other Ancient Literature Aeschylus Ag. Agamemnon Prom. Prometheus Bound Apuleius Metam. Metamorphoses Aristides Or. Orations Aristotle Eth. Nic. Nichomachean Ethics Rhet. Rhetoric Artemidorus Onir. Onirocritica b. Babylonian Talmud Barn. Epistle of Barnabas Ber. Berakhot (Mishna, Tosephta or Talmud) B. Meṣiʿa Baba Metzia John Cassian Conf. Conferences CD Cairo Damascus Document Cicero Off. De officiis Clement of Alexandria

Abbreviations and References

Strom. Stromata (Miscellanies) Did. Didache Dionysius of Halicarnassus Comp. Composition Thuc. On Thucydides Ep. Epistle Epictetus Diss. Discourses Epiphanius Pan. Panarion (Medicine Chest) Euripides Bacch. Bacchae Iph. Taur. Iphigeneia at Tauris Eusebius H. E. Ecclesiastical History Aulus Gellius Noc. Att. Attic Nights Gos. Thom. Gospel of Thomas (Nag Hammadi) Herm. Shepherd of Hermas Mand. Mandates Sim. Similitudes Vis. Visions Herodotus Hist. History Homer Il. Iliad Od. Odyssey Ignatius of Antioch Eph. Letter to the Ephesians Magn. Letter to the Magnesians Rom. Letter to the Romans Smyr. Letter to the Smyrneans Irenaeus of Lyon Haer. Adversus Haereses (Against the Heresies) j. Jerusalem Talmud Josephus Ant. Antiquities of the Jews Bell. Jewish War Julian Or. Orations Justin Martyr Apol. Apology Longus Daphn. Daphnis and Chloe m. Mishna tractate ʾOhal. Ohalot (Mishna, Tosephta or Talmud) Origen Cels. Contra Celsum

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Abbreviations and References

Ned. Nedarim (Mishna, Tosephta or Talmud) P. Papyrus Pesiq. Rab. Pesiqta Rabbati Phaedrus Fab. Fabulae Philo of Alexandria Decal. On the Decalogue Mos. Life of Moses Philostratus Vit. Apoll. Life of Apollonius of Tyana Pindar Pyth. Pythian Odes Plato Apol. Apology Phaid. Phaedrus Plutarch Adul. amic. Quomodo adulator ab amico internoscatur Pss. Sol. Psalms of Solomon 4QpNah 4Q Pesher Nahum (Dead Sea Scroll) Quintilian Inst. Institutions of Oratory Sallust Bell. Cat. Cataline War Sanh. Sanhedrin (Mishna, Tosephta or Talmud) Šabb. Shabbat (Mishna, Tosephta or Talmud) Sec. Apoc. James Second Apocalypse of James (Nag Hammadi) Seneca Ben. De beneficiis Šeqal. Sheqalim Suetonius Jul. Life of Julius Caesar t. Tosephta tractate Achilles Tatius Leuc. Clit. Leucippe and Clitophon Terence Phorm. Phormio T. Naph. Testament of Naphtali Yeb. Yebamoth (Mishna, Tosephta or Talmud)

Introduction Clare K. Rothschild At different speeds and with notable variation of distance from the center, all of the essays in the present volume travel in the orbit of canonical Acts. The collection begins with the essay entitled “Paul and Pentheus: What’s in a Possible Allusion” by Harold W. Attridge. In this study, Attridge demonstrates that over the last century the history of research on the allusion to Euripides’s Bacchae 794 in Acts 26:14 (σκληρόν σοι πρὸς κέντρα λακτίζειν) has come full circle. That is, scholarly opinion has shifted from certainty to uncertainty and back again. As Attridge observes, both shifts made sense at the time. Today the return is based not only on influential new research on the Bacchae but more sophisticated methods of interpreting the relationship of early Christian literature to the Greco-Roman culture from which it emerged. Clayton N. Jefford’s essay entitled “Rethinking the Relationship of Acts and the Didache” discusses the historical relationship of common material in Acts and the Didache. He argues that scholarly assumptions about the traditions shared by the Didachist and author of Acts require correction. Of several potential parallels between the two works, most can be explained as the use of commonly held teachings, Jewish traditions and Christian logia. However, this is not possible in every case, as Jefford’s essay succinctly and persuasively demonstrates. Amy-Jill Levine begins her essay entitled “Tabitha / ​Dorcas, Spinning Off Cultural Criticism,” with a depiction of Tabitha in Acts 9 as Luke’s ideal woman. She is single, works in the textile business, she is charitable, silent, beloved by her community, and dependent on Peter for everything. Although she might be an actual historical person, Levine argues that the conventionality of her story in Acts coupled with its reflection of Lukan themes raise suspicion. As such, Tabitha shares things in common with the fictional witch, Tabitha, daughter of Samantha and Darrin Stephens, in the 1970s hit television show, Bewitched. In this essay, Levine juxtaposes the two women suggesting that the modern exemplar, like parallels from Classical, Patristic, and Rabbinic sources, sheds important light on the ancient figure, continually reinventing her for new times and places. The title ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνϑρώπου only appears once in Acts. In 7:55–56, the author writes “Stephen … was brimming with inspiration. He gazed upward and saw the nimbus of divinity and Jesus standing to God’s right. ‘I see heaven revealed,’ he proclaimed. ‘The Son of Man is standing at the right side of God’” (ET: Per-

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vo). In his essay entitled “The Son of Man in Acts 7:56 and his Origin in the Lost Gospel,” Dennis R. MacDonald takes up the question of this title in the Gospel tradition and Acts. Building on the important work of Mogens Müller, MacDonald investigates the origin of the title, ultimately locating it in Q, or as MacDonald styles it, the “Lost Gospel.” Troy W. Martin’s essay makes bedfellows of two texts rarely brought into direct conversation. Entitled “Peter and the Expansion of Early Christianity in the Letters of Acts (15:23–29) and First Peter,” Martin’s essay demonstrates that – despite obvious differences – comparison of their mutual epistolary form, references to Silas or Silvanus, and in particular a common rhetorical exigence (whether historical or not) afford substantial interpretive dividends. Not driven by the insistence that the longer reading is original, Shelly Matthews essay, “Fleshly Resurrection, Wifely Submission, and the Myth of the Primal Androgyne: The Link between Luke 24:39 and Ephesians 5:30” aims to clarify the logic of the reference in Eph 5:30 to Christ’s flesh and bone. Inspired by Irenaeus’s citation of Luke 24:39b immediately following the longer reading of Eph 5:30, she proposes that Luke 24:39b – in which the risen Christ exclaims: “Touch me and see; for a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have” – is relevant to its interpretation. Acknowledging the connection, Matthews argues, accounts for the word order (i. e., “flesh” before “bone”) and emphasizes Christ’s rather than Adam’s body. According to David Moessner, episodes in Acts involving, for example, a naked exorcist, a magical handkerchief, and a viper dangling over an exotic Maltese island barbeque strike contemporary and ancient readers alike as surprising.” Moessner’s essay entitled “The Strange ‘New Dish’ called Acts!” explores this reaction, arguing that a hermeneutically sophisticated examination of the overlap between the end of Luke’s Gospel and the beginning of Acts, a case of “metalepsis,” helps to explain these otherwise inexplicable oddities. In the ancient world, protocols of the cultural conventions of friendship, hospitality, and philanthropy overlap. Nevertheless, in his essay, “The Interrelationship of Friendship, Hospitality, and Philanthropy in Luke’s Writings,” Mikeal C. Parsons explores Luke’s distinctive use of these conventions. Friendship applies to relationships within a Christian community. Hospitality adjudicates protocols for treating outsiders, particularly in the case of the Gentile mission. And, philanthropy is the Christian practice of assisting those in distress as well as outside obligation of unbelievers to Christ-followers. Near the end of his Acts commentary, Pervo remarks on Acts’s last word, ἀκωλύτως: “The final adverb is brilliant, worthy of a bravo, were commentators authorized to introduce such exclamations.” However, Mark Reasoner points out in his essay, “The Open Stage of Luke and Acts,” that this ending not only suppresses important facts such as the results of Paul’s trial and death, but leaves

Introduction

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the narrative open-ended. Reasoner interprets this open-endedness of Acts as a deliberate strategy of the author and a feature of many of its scenes. In the essay, “Perfect Martyr? Dangerous Material in the Stoning of Stephen,” Clare K. Rothschild argues that scholarship that emphasizes similarities between the passions of Jesus and Stephen overlooks how the author of Acts uses materials from Mark (omitted in Luke’s narration of Jesus’ passion) for Stephen’s story. This so-called “dangerous material” (an expression coined by Haenchen) reveals that Stephen’s death is not a retelling of Jesus’s passion but pro-Pauline propaganda the aim of which is to absolve Paul of his earlier life as a persecutor. The story emphasizes the barbarity of Jerusalem and the unchecked zeal of its Council members, while it shifts blame to the foolish early martyr who first incited Paul to act. Melissa Harl Sellew’s article “James and the Rejection of Apostolic Authority in the Gospel of Thomas,” admittedly travels at the widest reaches of Acts’s orbit noted above. Nevertheless, this excellent article – inspired by Pervo’s research on apostolic traditions in the literary context of the Roman Empire – takes up an issue crucial to scholars of early Christianity by correcting current interpretations of the praise of James in Gospel of Thomas 12. According to Harl, James’s praise is not a remnant of an earlier stage of transmission holding the apostle of righteousness in special reverence as leader, but an ironic dismissal of followers intent on a piety yet focussing on material existence. Also exploring the theme of irony, Janet E. Spittler’s essay, “Joking and Play in the Acts of John,” demonstrates that jokes and play are as intrinsic to the narrative of this apocryphal text as its sincerely disturbing episodes. According to Spittler, the explanation for this topsy-turvy parade of events may be found in the text’s primary focus on psychology. Rather than conflict with the authorities, as in other apocryphal Acts, crises in the Acts of John involve internal dilemmas faced by new Christ-followers. This aim, in turn, suggests that in addition to entertainment, a central purpose of the work is Christian pedagogy: what Pervo would undoubtedly have referred to as profit with delight. The final essay by Angela Standhartinger, aptly titled “Better Ending: Paul at the Roman Colonia Philippi in Acts 16,” explores the literary function of the Philippi account. According to Standhartinger’s argument, features of this narrative – including Paul’s call, his missionary successes, his encountering Roman rather than Jewish opposition, his dramatic prison escape, and his exoneration by Roman officials – offer a proleptic and symbolic preview of the narrative’s end. They not only foreshadow Paul’s experiences in Rome but also imply his ultimate vindication there. The results of these arguments are for readers to judge. The hope is that the essays foster conversation about the things discussed and that no small measure of delight is provoked along the way.

I. Essays

Paul and Pentheus: What’s in a Possible Allusion1 Harold W. Attridge One of the marginal notes to ancient sources in Nestle-Aland that usually surprises students just becoming familiar with the Greek New Testament appears at Acts 26:14, where Euripides Bacchae 794 is listed in the cross-references. The phrase that merits the note appears on the lips of Jesus in the third and last account of Paul’s Damascus Road experience. He tells Herod Agrippa II and the assembled elite that Jesus, speaking in Hebrew no less, chided him and said, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me. It is difficult for you to kick against the goads” (Σαοὺλ Σαούλ, τί με διώκεις; σκληρόν σοι πρὸς κέντρα λακτίζειν). It is the last portion of Jesus’ comment that is relevant, echoing, according to Nestle-Aland, the remark of Dionysus to Pentheus in the Bacchae, 794–95: “I would sacrifice to him rather than kick angrily against the goad, mortal against god” (θύοιμ᾿ ἂν αὐτῷ μᾶλλον ἢ θυμούμενος / π ​ ρὸς κέντρα λακτίζοιμι θνητὸς ὢν θεῷ, trans., LCL modified). Modern interpreters have been divided about whether there is actually an allusion to Euripides in this verse. One of the first to argue that Luke did allude to the Bacchae was Wilhelm Nestle at the beginning of the twentieth century.2 In his footsteps followed a number of scholars of the New Testament3 and classical literature, 4 who have catalogued classical allusions in the New Testament.

1  It is a pleasure to offer this brief contribution in honor of Richard Pervo, who has contributed so much to illuminating the ways in which the Book of Acts reflects its ancient literary context. 2 W. Nestle, “Anklänge an Euripides in der Apostelgeschichte,” Philologus 59 (1900): 46–57. 3  F. Smend, “Untersuchungen zu den Acta-Darstellungen von der Bekehrung des Paulus,” Angelos 1 (1925): 34–35; Hans Windisch, “Die Christusepiphanie von Damascus und ihre religionsgeschichtlichen Parallelen,” ZNW 31 (1932): 1–32. 4  Robert C. Horn, “Classical Quotations and Allusions of St. Paul,” Lutheran Church Quarterly 11 (1938): 281–88, esp. 287–88; S. Reyero, “’Durum est tibi contra stimulum calcitrare’: Hechos de los Apóstoles, 26,14,” Studium 10 (1970): 367–78, all noted in Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Acts of the Apostles, AB (New York: Doubleday, 1998), 759. Two other classicists should be added to the list, Robert Renehan, “Classical Greek Quotations in the New Testament,” in David Neiman and Margaret Schatkin, eds., The Heritage of the Early Church: Essays in Honor of the Very Reverend Georges Vasilievich Florovsky, Orientalia Christiana Analecta 195 (Rome: Pont. Institutum Studiorum Orientalium 1973) 17–46, esp. 21–24, citing E. R. Dodds, Bacchae, edited with introduction and commentary (Oxford: Clarendon, 1944, 1960), 173. On Bacchae 795, Dodds notes: “The author of Acts uses [the proverb πρὸς κέντρα λακτίζειν] (9.5 and 26.14) exactly as Eur. does, as a warning to the θεομάχος: he may in fact have borrowed it from the present passage.” On the point, Dodds cites Smend, “Untersuchungen,” 41.

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Among recent commentators, Richard Pervo is among those more convinced of a possible allusion to the Bacchae.5 “Although the phrase is found elsewhere6 the most important citation is Euripides Bacch. 794–95, not only because the influence of this play is arguably present elsewhere in Acts,7 more particularly because of the setting: the disguised Dionysus, a new god, addresses these words to Pentheus. They identify the recipient as a θεομάχος (“antagonist of God”).8 Like philosophers, Paul grounds his mission in an epiphany.”9

The two considerations to which Pervo appeals have been part of the conversation about this verse since Nestle: the likely presence of allusions to the Bacchae elsewhere in Acts, such as the term θεομάχος at Acts 5:39, the prison breaks at Acts 5:18–25; 12:4–17; and especially 16:23–27, which recall the escape of Dionysus from Pentheus’ prison; the plural form of the word for “goad” (κέντρα),10 and the general scene of a disguised deity addressing a human resistant to worshipping him. The presence of such allusions increases the likelihood of an intertextual engagement with Euripides, whatever may be involved in such intertextual play.

 Richard Pervo, Acts: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009) 631–32. rounding up the usual citations, notes: “For example, Pindar Pyth. 2.94; Aeschylus Ag. 1624; Prometheus P. V. 324–25; and Julian Or. 8.246B. Philo Dec. 7 uses it for the pricks of ‘conscience.’” Renehan, “Classical Greek Quotations,” 22–23, following Dodds, also notes Pindar frag. iamb. adesp. 13 Diehl (ἵππος ὄνῳ. Πρὸς κέντρα μὴ λακτιζέτω) and Euripides frag. 604 Nauck. On the claim that the former is the earliest example of the proverb, Renehan cites Reginald W. B Burton, Pindar’s Pythian Odes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962), 133.  7 Pervo refers to 410, n. 91, where he comments on the escape from prison in Acts 16, noting that the comparison with Dionysus is first attested in Origen Cels. 2.34, and refers to recent defenders of the possibility of dependence on Euripides: Richard Seaford, “Thunder, Lightning and Earthquake in the Bacchae and the Acts of the Apostles,” in Alan B. Lloyd, ed., What is a God? Studies in the Nature of Greek Divinity (London: Duckworth, 1997), and John B. Weaver, Plots of Epiphany: Prison Escape in the Acts of the Apostles. BZNW 131 (Berlin; de Gruyter, 2004). Pervo’s note on the passage from Acts 26 continues, “For earlier discussions of possible dependence on Euripides here, see Haenchen, 685 n. 3,” and he adds Hackett, “Echoes of the Bacchae,” though Hackett disputes dependence of Acts on the Euripidean tragedy.  8 Pervo refers to John Clayton Lentz, Luke’s Portrait of Paul. SNTSMS 77 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 84–86 and adds, “who also shows the relevance of the Agammenon. Aeschylus portrays Aegisthus as devoid of knowledge and self-control.”  9 Pervo notes “Plato Apol. 33C; Epictetus Diss 2.16.44.” 10  Such parallels have been under consideration since the work of Otto Weinreich, “Gebet und Wunder,” in Friedrich Focke, et al., eds., Genethliakon Wilhelm Schmid zum siebzigsten Geburtstag 24. Februar 1929. Tübinger Beiträge zur Altertumswissenschaft 5 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1929). 309–41, who treats the proverb in the context of a treatment of “Befreiungswunder” in Acts. He argues for the derivation of the proverb form Euripides on pp. 335–36. The usual parallels are cited by other supporters of a connection, such as Renehan, “Classical Greek Quotations,” 21–23. The work of Weinreich is also cited by Ernst Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972), ET of the 14th German edition (1965), 685, who, however, is among Weinreich’s critics.  5

 6 Pervo,

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I. The Citation of a Proverbial Expression The position of Nestle at the beginning of the twentieth century and of Pervo at the start of the twenty-first is not without its critics. Other interpreters have found not an allusion to Euripides, but to a proverb, which could be a simple bit of folk wisdom, so F. F. Bruce, who finds here a “homely proverb from agricultural life.” 11 Many others find an allusion to a Greek proverb attested in numerous literary sources from the classical period to late antiquity. Evocation of this proverb, rather than the play of Euripides, is all that one needs to assume about Jesus’ comment in Acts. Lothar Schmid, in the TDNT, did not think dependence could be proved.12 Now there can be little doubt that Lk would know the Ba. of Eur., and the situations are certainly similar. It might well be, then, that there is at least an allusion to the famous play. But this cannot be proved, since quite apart from the Ba. the proverb had passed into the common stock of quotations of the educated Greek.

In the post-war period, scholars raised even more serious doubts about the connection. In Germany, Albert Vögeli emerged as a skeptic;13 in English language scholarship, John Hackett played a similar role.14 Both questioned the significance of the other parallels to the Bacchae adduced by earlier scholars.

11 Thus, F. F. Bruce, Commentary on the Book of Acts (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1954), 491. Bruce offers a psychological interpretation, that the proverb “suggests that there was already in the depths of Paul’s mind a half-conscious conviction that the Christian case was true … The goad kept on pricking his conscience, until at last the truth that Jesus was risen indeed burst forth into full realization and acknowledgment as he appeared to Paul in person and spoke his name outside the walls of Damascus.” Without citing the sources Bruce adds in a note that “Several parallels to this proverb are adduced from Greek and Latin literature; none seems to be quoted from a Semitic source, but it is the sort of saying that would be familiar in any peasant community.” 12 Lothar Schmid, “κέντρον,” TWNT 3 (1938): 662–68 = TDNT 3 (1965): 663–68. 13 Alfred Vögeli, “Lukas und Euripides,” TZ 9 (1953): 415–38, esp. 416–18: In reviewing the case for a connection, he notes, following Nestle, Smend, “Untersuchungen”; Weinreich, “Gebet und Wunder”; Windisch, “Christusepiphanie”, and notes: “Der Sinn des Spruches wie des ganzen Abschnittes ist klar: der Verfolger wird gewarnt; sein Widerstand ist so vergeblich wie der des Ochsen gegen den Ziemer, weil der Verfolgte mächtiger ist als er” (416)… “Paulus verfolgt die Christen, Pentheus die Maenaden. Christus stellt sich vor seine Gläubigen, Dionysos vor seine Bekenner. Beide treten ihrem Verfolger warnend entgegen, bei Paulus mit dem Erfolg seiner Unterwerfung; bei Pentheus mit dem Ergebnis seines fortdauernden Trotzes” … “Sollte Lukas am Ende den gebildeten Leser an diesen Zusammenhang erinnern, ihn in der Werbung für Christus fruchtbar machen, den allenfalls vorhandenen Widerstand in seiner Vergeblichkeit aufzeigen und zu seiner Preisgabe auffordern wollen?” (418). He will eventually answer that question negatively. 14 John Hackett, “Echoes of the Bacchae of Euripides in Acts of the Apostles?” Irish Theological Quarterly 23 (1956): 219–27; 350–66, offers a critique of Dodds and the German scholars in favor of an allusion Windisch, “Christusepiphanie,” Smend, “Untersuchungen.”; Schmid, “κέντρον.”

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Most modern commentators have tended to follow the skeptics. Thus Ernst Haenchen argues that the phrase is a Greek proverb, the recognition of which does not require a connection to Euripides.15 A common Greek proverb, meaning “opposition to me is senseless and impossible” (Bauernfeind16 267). This for Paul’s Hellenistic audience makes the significance of the call clear: Paul is completely in the power of Jesus. Cf. Scholia vetera in Pindari Carmina II 60 f.: οὐ συμφέρει τῇ τύχῃ ἄνθρωπον ὄντα διαμάχεσθαι as the meaning of the quotation.

In a note Haenchen adds, “The question whether Luke is here dependent on Euripides (reference is particularly made to verse 794 of the Bacchae [cited] has been much discussed.” He catalogues scholars who have treated the question17 and concludes: We agree with Vögeli’s results: “For the explanation of the epiphanies and miracles of deliverance or punishment in Acts recourse to Euripides is from a literary point of view superfluous, and the author’s education does not extend beyond the popular philosophical standards of the Hellenistic age (436 f.), in which Euripides did not belong to school reading.”

Hans Conzelman,18 similarly doubts whether there is any dependence on Euripides: But then the voice quotes a Greek proverb. This is found in Euripides Bacc. 794–95, in connection with the pursuit of the new god. But we need not assume any literary dependence of Luke on Euripides, because the saying was widespread, cf. further Aeschylus Agam. 1624; Euripides Iph. Taur. 1396; Julian Or. 8.246b: “or as the proverb says (not to) kick against the goads” (μηδέ, ὅ φησιν ἡ παροιμία πρὸς κέντρα λακτίζειν) the sense is: “It is useless, being human, to strive against fate” (οὐ συμφέρει τῇ τύχῃ ἄνθρωπον ὄντα διαμάχεσθαι).19  Haenchen, Acts, 685. Bauernfeind, Kommentar und Studien zur Apostelgeschichte. WUNT 22 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1980). Haenchen cites the beginning of Bauernfeind’s treatment. On p. 269 Bauernfeind suggests that the passage from the Bacchae offers the closest Greek parallel and that Luke shows evidence of knowing the play. He attributes the allusion to Luke although he holds out the possibility that Luke is translating some proverbial expression in Aramaic. 17  He cites Nestle, Smend, “Untersuchungen”; Weinreich, “Gebet und Wunder,” 332 ff.; Windisch, “Christusepiphanie”; Werner Georg Kümmel, Römer 7 und die Bekehrung des Paulus (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1929), 155–57, [an excursus on Acts 26.14 expressing skepticism of dependence on Euripides particularly if based on the plural form, which is attested elsewhere in Aeschylus, Prom 322–3 and a fragment (604) of Euripides]; Albrecht Oepke, “Probleme der vorchristlichen Zeit des Paulus,” ThStKr 105 (1933): 387–424; Schmid, “κέντρον”; Martin , Studies in the Acts of the Apostles. Heinrich Greeven, ed. (London: SCM, 1956), 188–91 (ET of Aufsätze zur Apostelgeschichte [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1951), [who echoes Kümmel on the reasons to reject dependence on the Bacchae]; and Vögeli, “Lukas und Euripides.” 18  Hans Conzelmann, A Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 210. 19  Conzelmann notes, “Scholia Vetera in Pindari Carmina II 60. On the relationship of Luke to Euripides, see Haenchen, p. 685 n. 3; Dibelius, Studies, 188–91; Vögeli, “Lukas und Euripides.” 15

16 Otto

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Joseph Fitzmyer20 appeals to the proverbial quality of the phrase, notes its appearance in the Bacchae, but does not argue for any intertextual relationship: “‘It is hard for you to kick against the goad.” I.e., it is useless for you to try to resist this heavenly call. Though the risen Christ addresses Paul in Aramaic, he quotes a common Greek proverb, which is otherwise not found in Jewish literature. In variant forms it occurs in Euripides, Bacchae 794–95 (“than kick against the goads”); Aeschylus, Prometheus 324–25; Agamemnon 1624; Pindar, Pythian Odes 2.94–95; cf. TDNT, 3.666–67. In Greek literature the proverb expresses as idle or useless any resistance to divine influence in future conduct. So from that moment on Paul is being pressed into the service of the risen Christ. It does not express a reflection on Paul’s past life or conduct, or indicate a crisis of confidence. Note too Paul’s own recollections of the experience on the road to Damascus: he was ‘seized by Christ’ (Phil 3:12); a ‘compulsion, necessity’ (ananke) was laid upon him to preach the gospel (1 Cor 9:15–18).

Most recently Carl Holladay21 focuses on the proverbial character of the saying and, except in a footnote reference, makes little of the possible allusion to the Bacchae: (In an initial textual note) Lit. “hard to kick against the goads” (skleron soi pros kentra laktizein), suggesting the image of a balking animal pulling a cart, resisting the prodding stick of its driver; figuratively of someone resisting a divine call, BDAG 539 x.v. kentron 2; 582 s. v. laktizo. (In his commentary) Jesus’ plaintive cry, as before, names the real target of Paul’s persecution: not human beings who bear the name of Jesus or benefit from its therapeutic power, but Jesus himself as a heavenly figure who has transcended death. This makes Paul a “God-fighter” (theomachos, 5:39), someone trying to resist an irresistible Providence. Aware that educated listeners (or readers) will recognize the well-known proverb, ‘It is hard to kick against the goads,’ Luke attributes this vivid metaphorical language to the risen Lord, who reminds Paul of the futility of resisting a divine call.22

While he does not mention Euripides, Holladay interestingly notes that the quote frames Paul as a “theomachos,” the same kind of observation that for Pervo and most of those who see a connection to Euripides, links Acts to the dramatic confrontation of divine and human in the Bacchae. 20 Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Acts of the Apostles, AB 31 (New York: Doubleday, 1998), 758–59. 21  Carl R. Holladay, Acts: A Commentary, New Testament Library (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2016), 474–76. 22 Holladay notes: “The earliest reference to this widely known proverb (Julian, in Or. 8.246B, calls it a paroimia) is Aeschylus, Ag. 1624; also Prom. 323. But the only classical reference cited as a parallel in NA28 (878; one of only four in the NT) is Euripides, Bacch. 794–795, where Dionysus says, “Better slay victims unto him than kick against the pricks, man raging against God” (thyoim’ an auto mallon e thumoumenos pros kentra laktizoimi thnetos on theo). It also occurs in Pindar, Pyth. 2.94–95; Terence, Phorm. 77. Cf. Pss. Sol. 16.4; Philo, Decal. 87. Conzelmann (1987, 211) captures the meaning: ‘It is useless, being human, to strive against fate.’” Interestingly, the interpretation of the meaning of the proverb attributed here to Conzelmann involves the sentiment expressed first by the scholia to Pindar, first cited by Haenchen, Conzelmann’s acknowledged source.

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II. Citation of a Proverb, Exemplified in the Bacchae Some interpreters hedge their bets and argue that the phrase is a proverb, but probably known from the Bacchae. In this camp are F. J. Foakes Jackson and Kirsopp Lake,23 who make no more of the possible allusion: This phrase is found in the B-text only in this passage, but it is inserted in ix.5 in the African Latin and Harclean margin, and in the Harclean margin in xxii.7. The African Latin is not extant in xxii.7; D is not extant in ix.5, but does not have the addition in xxii.7. The proverb ‘to kick against the goads’ is found in Greek in Aeschylus, Agam. 1624 (cf. Prom. 323); Pindar, Pyth 2.173; Euripides, Bacch. 795; in Latin writers, e. g. Terence Phormio 77 (cf. A. Otto, Die Sprichwörter und sprichwörtlichen Redensarte der Römer 1890, pp. 331 f.), and in an inscription in the valley of the Meander.24 (A. H. Smith and W. M. Ramsay, Journal of Hellenic Studies, viii., 1887, p. 261). It has not yet been found in any Aramaic source and seems to be, like the use of the LXX in Peter’s speeches, an indication that the speeches in Acts are the composition of the editor, not translations from Aramaic, even when, as here, the speaker is said to have been using that language. That it is actually derived from the Greek poets, especially the Bacchae of Euripides, whether directly or as a ‘familiar quotation’ like the quotations in xvii.28, is argued by F. Sment [sic], Ἄγγελος, i.1925, pp. 41 ff.; P. Fiebig, ibid. ii.1926, pp. 157r, and J. Rendel Harris, St. Paul and Greek Literature, 1927, pp. 10 f. That the proverb is used in poetry particularly of resisting fate or the will of gods makes its use here even more appropriate. The goad, called in A. V. ‘prick,’ is usually mentioned in the singular (though here it is plural) and is a sharp-pointed stick. It is known to the Old Testament writers as used to prod an ox or ass at the plough (or horse, Ps. Sol. xvi.4). The word ‘hard’ (σκλῆρον) does not mean ‘difficult’ but indicates that it hurts the one who resists or kicks.”

C. K.  Barrett25 is cautious about the possibility of dependence on Euripides and does not personally endorse it, although he gives special prominence to the appearance of the proverb in the Bacchae. The proverb is a Greek one (from Pindar and the Tragedians onward) and therefore unlikely to have presented itself to Paul’s conscious mind at the time of his conversion; though Knox26 … notes Ps. Sol. 16.4 (ἔνυξέν με ὡς κέντρον ἵππου ἐπὶ τὴν γρηγόρησιν αὐτοῦ) to show that the proverb ‘may have been acclimatized in Judaism, and such a proverb might well have found its way into a collection of proverbs available for Jewish students of Greek’. Bultmann rightly says that the phrase does not refer to an inner struggle, but rather is a widespread proverbial expression that means that man cannot withstand the 23 F. J. Foakes Jackson and Kirsopp Lake, The Beginnings of Christianity: The Acts of the Apostles (5 vols.; London: Macmillan, 1920–1933; repr. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1979), 4:318–19. 24  Foakes Jackson and Lake cite: A. H. Smith and W. M. Ramsay, “Notes on a Tour in Asia Minor,” Journal of Hellenic Studies 8 (1887): 216–67, here: 261. The inscription reads: λακτίζεις πρὸς κέντρα τρὸ[ς ἀ]ντία κύματα μοχθεῖς, “You kick against the goads, you struggle against the waves.” 25 C. K. Barrett, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles. ICC (2 vols.; Edinburgh: Clark, 1994–1998), 1158. 26  Wilfred L. Knox, Hellenistic Elements in Primitive Christianity, Schweich Lectures, 1942 (London: For the British Academy by H. Milford, 1944), 29.

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divine. 27 It is conflict against the gods that is in mind in the tragic poets; here the proverb takes up the thought that Paul is resisting – persecuting – Jesus by hindering his work.28 Commentators and others cite many parallels; among the most important are the following: Pindar, Pythians 2.94–96; ποτὶ κέντρον δέ τοι λακτίζεμεν τελέθει ὀλισθηρὸς οἶμος. Euripides, Bacchae 795: πρὸς κέντρα λακτίζοιμι θνητὸς ὢν θεῷ. The latter is probably the most important passage. BDR # 487.1, n. 2 point out the metre, but think that there is no literary dependence. See further below; also Iphigeneia in Tauris 1395 f.; Aeschylus, Agamemnon 1624, πρὸς κέντρα μὴ λάκτιζε. In Latin see Terence, Phormio 1.2.27 f.; Plautus, Truculentes 4.741. Jewish material is hard to fine. See Ps. Sol. 16.4 (above); Philo, De Decalogo 87. Bengel29 (481) says, ‘Syriacum adagium notat Lightfoot’ but he seems to have taken a translation into ‘Syr’ as an illustrative quotation!30 Some think that Luke knew the Bacchae of Euripides, citing in addition to this passage 5.39 and 16.26.31

III. The Allusion to the Bacchae and What it Does The reluctance on the part of some readers to see an allusion to the Bacchae in the speech of Jesus in Acts 26 may be due in part to appropriate scholarly caution. Allusions can be simply in the mind of the reader, not part of the fabric of the narrative. Yet there are also clear tendencies on the part of some commentators to resist the possibility that an early Christian text might be dependent on a bit of ancient pagan literature, especially a piece of literature that puts a potentially dangerous form of religious ecstasy at center stage. Such concern is apparent, for instance, in John Hackett, who cites Henry Cadbury: “Neither in form nor in substance do the parallels indicate a derivation of the Christian from the pagan material. They do not argue even a corresponding level of fancifulness, truthfulness or accuracy.”32 Hackett goes on to say:

27 Rudolf Bultmann, Existence and Faith, Shubert F. Ogden, trans. and ed. (New York: Meridian, 1960), 114. 28  Barrett cites Schmid, “κέντρον,” and Dibelius, Studies, 188–91. For a similar approach to the allusion, building on Nestle and Weinreich but emphasizing the Jewish use of the motif of the theomachos, see Vadim Wittkowsky, “‘Pagane’ Zitate im Neuen Testament,” NovT 51 (2009): 107–26. 29  Johann Albrecht Bengel, Gnomon Novi Testamenti, 3rd ed. (London, Edinburgh, Cambridge, and Oxford: T. & T. Clark, 1862), on Acts: 388–489. 30  Correcting other commentators is a regular part of the academic enterprise, but this correction is more recherché than most. 31 Barrett refers his readers to Bauernfeind, Kommentar, 269; Jürgen Roloff, Die Apostelgeschichte. Das Neue Testament Deutsch 5 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1981), 415 ff. [sic, the reference should be to p. 351; Roloff suggests Jesus uses a proverb that originally stemmed from the Bacchae, but does not address the question of whether there is a purposeful allusion to the text], and Vögeli, “Lukas und Euripides,” without noting the latter’s skeptical conclusion. 32 Hackett, “Echoes of the Bacchae,” 363.

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In the present case it is possible to admit St. Luke used these infirma et egena elementa for his purpose, without yielding ground on the historical character of narratives of miracles in the New Testament. But it is hard to see their appeal for the writer or his public, particularly if they had any glimmerings of modern interpretations of Euripides’ play – of the horrors of orgiastic religion that Murray writes of, or of Dionysus, as a cruel, “non-moral force” in the scheme of things, like Aphrodite in the Hippolytus. The old patch would thus merely make a greater rent. The parallels of Acts with the Bacchae are individually so faint that it seems quite reasonable to maintain that these New Testament phrases could have been written so had the play never existed.33

Apologetics, as much as cautious skepticism, plays its part in forming scholarly judgments. What tilts the balance strongly in favor of an allusion to the Bacchae in Acts 26 is the fact that Euripides in general and this play in particular was not, as Vögeli and Haenchen suggested, absent from the “school reading” of the first century and hence not on the intellectual radar screen of the author of Acts. The widespread fascination with this bit of classical drama in the Hellenistic and early imperial period is recognized in much recent scholarship. The importance of Euripides is evident in political propaganda that would have been known to Jews.34 Euripides was certainly widely cited in literature produced by Greeks, Jews and Christians, as Courtney Friesen has skillfully catalogued.35 In the hands of Theocritus, Idyll 26, Dionysus, invoked by his Ptolemaic sovereigns, becomes a Greek gentleman, and his maenads, supporters of established piety.36 In the hands of Philo of Alexandria, Dionysus, invoked in his own dramatic way by the Roman emperor Gaius, is seen to be the polar opposite to his imperial imitator, bringing happiness and joy where Gaius brings tragedy.37 Friesen, unlike some of the other recent scholars whom he cites,38 does not argue for direct literary  Ibid, 366.  James M. Scott, Bacchius Judaeus: A Denarius Commemorating Pompey’s Victory over Judaea. NTOAStUNT (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015). 35 Courtney J. P. Friesen, Reading Dionysus: Euripides’ Bacchae and the Contestations of Greeks, Jews, Romans, Christians, STAC 95 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015). 36 Friesen, Reading Dionysus, 72–85. 37 Friesen, Reading Dionysus, 86–93. 38  Detlef Ziegler, Dionysos in der Apostelgeschichte: Eine intertextuelle Lektüre. Religion und Biographie 18 (Münster: Lit, 2008); Ryan Carhart, “The Second Sophistic and the Cultural Idealization of Paul in Acts,” in Engaging Early Christian History: Reading Acts in the Second Century. Rubén Dupertuis and Todd Penner, eds., Bible World (London: Acumen, 2013), 187–207, esp. 203; Detlev Dormeyer, “Bakchos in der Apostelgeschichte,” in Griechische Mythologie und frühes Christentum. Raban von Haehling, ed. (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2014), 287–301; Dennis R. MacDonald, Luke and Vergil: Imitations of Classical Greek Literature (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015), 56. For MacDonald’s analysis, cf. also “Classical Greek Poetry and the Acts of the Apostles: Imitations of Euripides’ Bacchae,” in Christian Origins and Greco-Roman Culture: Social and Literary Contexts for the New Testament. Stanley Porter and Andrew W. Pitts., eds., Early Christianity in Its Hellenistic Context 1; Texts and Editions for New Testament Study 9 (Leiden: Brill, 2013) 463–96. 33 34

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dependence of Acts on the Bacchae, but believes that the “Bacchae illuminates the literary context of Acts in ways that have not have been appreciated.”39 Despite Friesen’s caution, he records details of the story of the Bacchae that are important for Luke. As for most other scholars who have treated the issue, Paul is a theomachos, who “breathes out (ἐμπνέων) threat and murder against the disciples” (Acts 9:1; Bacc. 620). Paul’s characterization of his persecution as excessive madness (περισσῶς τε ἐμμαινόμενος, Acts 26:11) resembles Pentheus’ persecution of Dionysus (Bacch. 326–27, 999). Details of Paul’s description of his encounter with Christ resemble features of the Bacchae: the flash of light (Acts 26:13; Bacch. 594–95), an unseen voice (Acts 26:14–18; Bacch. 576–79), and falling to the ground (Acts 26:16; Bacch. 606–07). Friesen acknowledges that these details are found in connection with other accounts of divine epiphanies, but the connection with the citation of the proverb points to the Bacchae as the decisive intertext.40 Friesen ultimately finds in the evocation of the Bacchae Luke’s attempt to portray Christianity as the polar opposite of the Dionysiac cult, a religious movement of rational prudence, not a cult of ecstatic madness. He finds this motif both in Paul’s speech before Agrippa, which ends with the accusation by Festus that too much study has driven Paul mad (Acts 26:24), to which Paul replies that he is not mad but simply proclaims words of “sober truth” (ἀλλὰ ἀληθείας καὶ σωφροσύνης ῥήματα ἀποφθέγγομαι). Friesen finds the same juxtaposition of Dionysiac cult and the way of Jesus’ followers in the description of Pentecost and the charge that the disciples are drunk.41 Knowledge and use of Euripides in the first century is recognized in one of the most recent commentaries on Acts, the massive work of scholarship by Craig Keener.42 He notes the widespread use of the proverb, rounding up the usual suspects,43 and adding Quintilian Decl. 325.9. He notes the many commentators who have mentioned the parallel in the Bacchae.44 More importantly, he takes

39 Friesen,

Reading Dionysus, 212.  Friesen, Reading Dionysus, 219. 41  Friesen, Reading Dionysus, 221–35. 42 Craig Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary: 4 Vols. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2012– 2015), 3513–16. 43  Ibid. 3514, n. 1351. He also mentions but does not cite the inscription from Asia Minor. See n. 24 above. 44  Ibid, 3514, n. 1349. He adds to the examples noted in this paper Ben Witherington III, The Acts of the Apostles: A Socio-rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 743; Charles H. Talbert, Acts: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles (Rev. ed.; Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005), 207, Gary Gilbert ,“Acts,” in The Jewish Annotated New Testament: New Revised Standard Version. Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler, eds., (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 248. 40

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account of the scholarship that points to wide knowledge of Euripides in the period.45 Friesen argues that the allusion to the Bacchae can be seen to serve the literary fashioning of an “anti-Dionysus” phenomenon. But the allusion, I suggest, does more, operating at two levels, in the rhetorical situation that the character of Paul confronts in his trial before Jewish and Roman authorities and in the framework of Acts’ overall presentation of the development of the Christian movement. Holding out the possibility that there is an allusion to the Bacchae, Keener advances the discussion of what the allusion might mean by noting: “the educated Agrippa inside the narrative world and Theophilus outside it may have caught the allusion.”46 Keener rightly observes that not everyone might have done so: Most members of Luke’s audience would probably have heard the Greek proverb, though they might not have gathered that it ultimately came in this form from Euripides. Although Euripides is the closest form, much of Luke’s target audience may have also been able to supply secondary resonances that could theologically inform the claim.47

IV. A Captatio Benevolentiae Within the rhetorical situation, which Friesen lays out quite well,48 Paul is defending himself against charges of sedition by telling his own story. Like the good orator that Luke portrays him to be,49 he adapts his story to the audience – here, well educated members of the elite. They are likely to be the type of people who would have been familiar with classical drama and who would, therefore, catch allusions and be influenced by them. That situation, rather than any un-

45 Ibid, 3514, n. 1355, citing Abraham Malherbe, Social Aspects of Early Christianity (2nd ed.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), 42; idem, Moral Exhortation: A Greco-Roman Sourcebook. LEC 4 (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986), 115, and Osvaldo Padilla, “Hellenistic παιδεία and Luke’s Education: A Critique of Recent Approaches,” NTS 55 (2009): 416–37. 46 Ibid, 3514, n. 1356. 47  Ibid, 3515. 48  Friesen, Reading Dionysus, 213–14, following Jerome Neyrey, “The Forensic Defense Speech and Paul’s Trial Speeches in Acts 22–26,” in Luke-Acts: New Perspectives from the Society of Biblical Literature Seminar. Charles H. Talbert ed., (New York: Crossroad), 210–24, and Bruce Winter, “Official Proceedings and the Forensic Speeches in Acts 24–26,” in The Book of Acts in Its Ancient Literary Setting. Bruce W. Winter and Andrew D. Clarke, eds. (The Book of Acts in its First-Century Setting, 1; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 305–36, describes Paul’s speech as a bit of forensic oratory with an exordium (26:2–3), narratio (26:4–18), confirmation (29:19–20), and peroration (26:22–23). 49  For another example of Luke’s portrait of Paul’s rhetorical adaptability, see Dean Bechard, Paul Outside the Walls: A Study of Luke’s socio-geographical Universalism in Acts 14:8–20. An Bib 143 (Roma: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 2000).

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usual source, explains the distinctive character of this account of the Damascus Road experience.50 If they did indeed catch the allusion, how would the implied audience of Paul’s speech have reacted to it? Paul’s citation of Dionysus’ comment on the lips of Jesus in effect casts him as a new Pentheus. The king of Thebes was a rather foolish and obtuse resister of the divine power newly come to Greece. As most commentators have noted, Paul who resisted the power of the resurrected one and persecuted his followers, as Acts duly records,51 fits that mold well. But at the end of the day the resistance of Pentheus was in vain and it cost him dearly. For Luke’s character Paul to cast himself in that role could serve as a captatio benevolentiae. Through the allusion, he is saying to his judges, “Have sympathy for me. In the risen Jesus I was confronted with an irresistible force. What else could I do but submit?” Whether the allusion had such an effect is not completely clear, but Paul will later appeal directly to Agrippa (Acts 26:27–28) and, after their bantering exchange, Agrippa at least concludes with a verdict favorable to Paul (Acts 26:31).

V. An Ironic Challenge to Resistant Political Power Beyond the dynamics of the trial narrative and its rhetorical situation, the evocation of Dionysus’ remark to Pentheus could have other functions in the rhetoric of the text as a whole. The identification of Paul with Pentheus might also evoke the king’s tragic end, torn apart by his mother and sisters. Nothing quite like that is in store for Paul in the pages of Acts, and if Luke knows of Paul’s death, as he probably does, he does not tell the story. Although it is entirely possible, perhaps even likely, that Nero released dogs to chase and maul Paul and other prisoners

50 Schmid, “κέντρον,” 666–67 (cited in Hackett, “Echoes of the Bacchae,” 253) captures some of the effect: “… it is no accident that the proverb is employed precisely in the report on Paul’s conversion given before Agrippa, with his Hellenistic education. That means, if the formulation is really derived from Paul himself, that Paul here had his immediate audience in mind and interwove the admirably usable proverb, skillfully adapting it to the situation as we know it from him elsewhere. One can scarcely say that he could not have known the saying. Alternatively, if it is really Luke who speaks here, the latter by his literary skill has carefully selected the expression uniquely suited both to the setting at Damascus and of this speech – an expression that must of course have been familiar to him as an educated man of his age. The slight incongruity of a Greek proverb in the mouth of an Aramaic or Hebrew speaker will accordingly not be taken into account any further.” Arguing against Schmid that the incongruity is worth considering, Friesen, Reading Dionysus, 214, takes it to be an example of Luke subverting the cultural dominance of the Greek language. 51 See Acts 7:58; 9:1–2.

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to death (Tacitus, Ann. 15.44), the later martyrological tradition will frame that death in a very different and more positive way.52 It is not Paul, but the audience who may be cast in a new light by the allusion to Euripides.53 The allusion, that is, could operate both within the narrative world of Acts and also in the text’s interaction with its readers. In the process there is a shift in the relationship between the characters in the story and the realities to which they point. The citation of the proverbial phrase from Dionysus’s comment to Pentheus in effect made Paul into a new Pentheus who resisted the divine power and persecuted the followers of Jesus. But the Paul that stands before Agrippa II and his peers is not one who currently kicks against the goads of Christ. Paul is now his apostle, the instrument of his presence in a potentially hostile world. Paul, once an alter Pentheus, has become now an alter Dionysus, or rather, an alter Christus. If the author of Acts did have Paul’s letters in mind as he composed his portrait of Paul,54 he might well have remembered that in Paul it is not Paul, but Christ who lives within him (Gal 2:20). The words spoken to Paul on the road to Damascus could now be understood as directed to those who would stand in the way of the spread of the Gospel. There is no indication that the characters in the story have any inkling of this point, but the reader who gets the allusion could infer that it will, in the end, indeed be hard for them to kick against the Gospel’s goad.

VI. The Progress of Scholarship The scholarly conversation over the last century about the possible allusion made in Jesus’ address to Paul as reported in Acts 26 has come full circle. The transition from assurance of an allusion reflected a sense that early Christian literature, or at least important parts of it, was grounded as much in the world of Greco-Roman culture as in that of Israel’s scriptures. The approach to the New Testament represented by Richard Pervo shares that sense, which has become more widely accepted in the beginning of the twenty-first century. The New Testament scholarship of recent years has also become more sensitive to ways the sacred texts can work as pieces of literature and how meanings emerge in the interaction of text and reader / ​hearer. Richard Pervo has been another path-breaker in that regard. To kick against such conceptual goads is hard indeed. 52  See David L. Eastman, Paul the Martyr: The Cult of the Apostle in the Latin West. Writings from the Greco-Roman World Supplements 4 (Atlanta: SBL, 2011). 53  Keener, Acts, 3515, also engages in some reader response speculation, but he focuses on the kinds of texts and situations “goads” might evoke in a first-century audience, a move that turns aside from the Bacchae to a broader set of cultural concerns. 54  The possibility is, of course, greater if one accepts a date for Acts considerably later than that of Luke. On the issue of dating Acts see Richard Pervo, Dating Acts: Between the Evangelists and the Apologists (Santa Rosa, CA: Polebridge, 2006).

Rethinking the Relationship of Acts and the Didache Clayton N. Jefford I. Introduction to Modifications Leo Buscaglia1 is credited with having once said that “change is the end result of all true learning.” As historians and students of scripture, we sometimes find that recognition of this axiom places us in a curious dilemma. Thus it is that I now find myself in that place. When I began work on the Didache some three decades ago, I proposed that the text was created with awareness of the evolving Gospel of Matthew from within the same formative community at Antioch.2 I offered this view despite customary opinion that the Didachist wrote some years after the formation of the New Testament,3 and I have held fast to this belief over the years. In the meantime, however, two factors have nudged me toward “change” and away from full conviction for this position: Firstly, I have developed a newfound appreciation for the fact that documentary evidence in support of the Didache is generally late.4 Secondly, editorial evidence may speak more broadly to later 1 Felice Leonardo ‘Leo’ Buscaglia (1924–1998), internationally known motivational speaker, was supervisor of special education in the Pasadena City Schools (1960–1965) of California before joining the faculty of the Department of Special Education at the University of Southern California, where he taught until his death at the age of 74. 2  Thus the presumption of my 1988 dissertation subsequently published as Clayton N. Jefford, The Sayings of Jesus in the Teaching of the Twelve Apostles, VCSupp 11 (Leiden: Brill, 1989). 3 E. g., the most recent commentaries at the time generally supported this position: thus, Jean-Paul Audet, La didachè, EBib (Paris: Gabalda, 1958), 187–206; Robert A. Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache, The Apostolic Fathers 3 (New York: Thomas Nelson & Sons, 1965), 75–77; Stanislas Giet, L’énigme de la didachè, Publications de la faculté des letters de L’Université de Strasbourg 149 (Paris: Ophrys, 1970), 161–70; Willy Rordorf and André Tuilier, La doctrine des douze apôtres (Didachè), SC 248 (Paris: Cerf, 1978), 17–21 (references hereafter are to the 2nd edition [1998]). This same trend continued in the work of Niederwimmer, whose commentary appeared shortly after my dissertation as Kurt Niederwimmer, Die Didache, Kommentar zu den Apostolischen Vätern 1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989), 71–77 (references hereafter are to the English translation based on the 2nd edition, The Didache, ed. Harold W. Attridge, trans. Linda M. Maloney, Hermeneia [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998]). 4  Our best evidence derives (in chronological order) from a third-century Latin form of Didache 1–6 (De doctrina apostolorum = L), Greek Apostolic Church Order (= CO), and Ethiopic recension of the same (= Eth), a late fourth-century Greek fragment (= POxy) and the Greek Apostolic Constitutions (= AC), a fifth-century Coptic rendering of Did. 10.3b–12.2a (= C), a dubious later Georgian recension (= G), and the Greek text preserved in Codex Hi-

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ecclesiastical interference in the transmission of these manuscripts than to the origins of the text itself.5 In what follows I wish to offer evidence of this movement from within my own thought as connected to the possible relationship of the Didache and Acts. I am most grateful for the insights of Richard Pervo and others (hereafter called “the revisionists”) concerning the plausibly late composition of Acts as a foundation upon which to construct the following survey.6 Being conscious of the “evolved” nature of the Didache,7 I do not suppose that all contributors to the text (from the mysterious originator of the Vorlage identified as the “Didachist” to each of the subsequent, unknown editors involved) possessed a singular consciousness of the presumed Luke–Acts tradition, but that at least one of the later contributors was aware of some version of Acts as a reflection of budding, second-century consciousness concerning the emergent authority of logia traditions and the rise of ecclesiastical hierarchies throughout the Mediterranean world.

erosolymitanus 54 dated internally to 11 June 1056 (= H). Curiously, being the most complete, single rendering of the tradition (though not truly without problems itself), it is this most recent version of the Didache (i. e., H) that scholars prefer as the basis for their comments on the antiquity of the tradition. As to G, many researchers debate the origin of this rendering, with Rordorf and Tuilier ignoring its evidence and Holmes considering it to be “a modern translation rather than an independent witness”; so Michael W. Holmes, ed., The Apostolic Fathers, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 340. I do not find myself in agreement with either of these views. 5  Here I finally acknowledge the likely impact that the post-Constantinian church had on the preservation and alteration of our various manuscript traditions, especially since it is from this period that many of the primary witnesses derive. 6  Pervo states clearly his belief that “Acts was written c. 115,” which is a very specific attribution indeed (see Richard I. Pervo, Acts: A Commentary, ed. Harold W. Attridge, Hermeneia [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009], 5; see also his “Dating Acts,” Forum NS 5/1 (2002): 53–72; “Fourteen Years After: Revisiting Rethinking the Unity of Luke and Acts,” in Rethinking the Unity and Reception of Luke and Acts, ed. Andrew F. Gregory and C. Kavin Rowe [Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2010], 31 [pp. 23–40]), though he previously admits a more generous range of 110–20; so his Dating Acts (Santa Rosa, CA: Polebridge, 2006), 343. If one were to accept a more traditional date, a slight (though in my opinion generally less likely) possibility exists that the Didachist knew Acts. Typical dates include “between 80 and 100,” so Hans Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles, ed. Eldon Jay Epp with Christopher R. Matthews, trans. James Limburg et al., Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), xxxiii; the 80s, so James D. G.  Dunn, The Acts of the Apostles, Epworth Commentaries (London: Epworth, 1996), xi; between “the early sixties and the early second century,” so Charles H. Talbert, Reading Acts (New York: Crossroad, 1997), 1–2; early 70s to 90s, so Craig S. Keener, Acts, 4 vols. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012–2015), 1:383–401. Tyson has clearly changed his opinion here, previously offering a more traditional date “for Luke and Acts at A. D. 80–85” (Joseph B. Tyson, A Study of Early Christianity [New York: Macmillan; London: Collier–Macmillan, 1973], 208), though more recently associating himself with the revisionists by offering a range of 100–150 as probable; so his “The Date of Acts: A Reconsideration,” Forum NS 5/1 (2002): 33– 51; Marcion and Luke–Acts (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2006), 1–23; “Implications of a Late Date for Acts,” Forum 3rd series 1/1 (2007): 41–63. 7 So the stated assumption of Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache, 1.

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My own publication on the relationship of the Didache and Acts is quite limited, finding in print only a brief paper presented on the topic in 1990.8 In that review I proposed that the teachings of Didache 6 on the yoke of the Lord and food sacrificed to idols should be seen as fragmentary testimony to events associated with the Jerusalem church’s correspondence directed to Antioch, otherwise known from Acts 15. Notwithstanding arguments that the Didache may likewise reflect knowledge of Matt 11:25–30,9 I remain cautiously convinced of that premise. Beyond this single paper, however, I have offered only random allusions to parallels in Acts without specific argument concerning questions of origin.10 Thus it is that I take this opportunity to remedy this deficit in what follows.

II. Examination of Evidence from Diverse Perspectives Several passages within the Didache suggest possible parallel in comparison with Acts. These include texts with specific wording in common (Did. 1.2c / ​Acts 15:20 D11; Did. 13.1–2 and 15.1–2 / ​Acts 13:1), loose equivalents of theme (Did. 1.5, 4.5 / ​ Acts 20:35; Did. 3.7 / ​Acts 7:33), and further complex pericopae that may share a joint history of tradition (Did. 4.8 / ​Acts 2:44–45 and 4:32; Did. 6.1–3 / ​Acts 15.6– 41). Beyond these, more general assumptions concerning ecclesiastical offices are

 8  That paper, offered as “An Ancient Witness to the Apostolic Decree of Acts 15?” (paper presented at Annual Meeting of the Midwest Region of the SBL, Madison, WI, 18–20 February 1990), was subsequently published under the same title in Proceedings: Eastern Greek Lakes and Midwest Biblical Societies 10 (1990): 204–13, and slightly later with alterations as “Tradition and Witness in Antioch: Acts 15 and Didache 6,” Perspectives in Religious Studies 19 (1992): 409–19, and concurrently in Perspectives on Contemporary New Testament Questions, ed. Edgar V. McKnight, North American Baptist Professors of Religion Festschriften Series 9 (Lewiston, NY: Mellen, 1992), 75–89.  9 For this view (with which I agree), see Jonathan A. Draper, “The Two Ways and Eschatological Hope: A Contested Terrain in Galatians 5 and the Didache,” Neot 45 (2011): 232–33 (pp. 221–52), who here incorporates earlier insights from Audet, La didachè, 353–54, Alfred Stuiber, “Das ganze Joch des Herrn (Didache 6,2–3),” in StPatr 4/2 (TU 79), ed. F. L. Cross (Berlin: Akademie, 1961), 323–29, and Klaus Wengst, Didache (Apostellehre); Barnabasbrief; Zweiter Klemensbrief; Schrift an Diognet, Schriften des Urchristentums (Munich: Kosel, 1985), 95–96. While Niederwimmer recognizes this connection, his reading differs in favor of a slightly different interpretation offered by Rordorf and Tuilier; so Niederwimmer, Didache, 121–23. On the meaning of the yoke both in Matthew (the literary origins of the teaching in messianic literature) and generally within later patristic authors, see most recently Matthew W. Mitchell, “The Yoke is Easy, but What of Its Meaning? A Methodological Reflection Masquerading as a Philological Discussion of Matthew 11:30,” JBL 135 (2016): 321–40. 10 Most especially in Jefford, Sayings, passim, and Didache: The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles, Early Christian Apocrypha 5 (Salem, OR: Polebridge, 2013), passim. 11  Here “D” refers to the Western text family represented in the sixth-century manuscript Codex Bezae.

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likewise worth consideration, though discussion of this topic is extensive in the literature and cannot be addressed fully in what follows.12 The intention here is to offer a brief overview of certain issues involved in comparing these passages, then to propose general observations deemed pertinent. My assumptions are that, if one is to accept a progressively early date for the Didache as proposed by some scholars (even beyond the years of 80–120 offered by my dissertation)13 and a second-century date for Acts projected by the revisionists, then it becomes improbable that the Didachist knew Acts directly, leaving one of the following likely options: The author of Acts knew and used the Didache; later editors of the Didache knew and used pericopae from Acts; the Didachist and author of Acts were dependent on common tradition without necessarily having knowledge of the other’s writing; some combination of these processes. The procedure to demonstrate the validity for any of these solutions is challenging at best, and my conclusions may draw more argument from those who are opposed than approval from those who are in agreement. Nevertheless, one might consider the following six groupings of passages: 1)  Did. 1.2c offers the well-known words of the “golden rule” near the beginning of the tractate: “and whatever you might not want to happen to you, similarly do not do to another” (πάντα δὲ ὅσα ἐὰν θελήσῃς μὴ γίνεσθαί σοι καὶ σὺ ἄλλῳ μὴ ποίει). This is the third element of the work’s opening teachings. The first two instructions (to love God and neighbor) are likely drawn from Deut 6:5 and Lev 19:18, though parallels appear elsewhere in late Jewish writings and early messianic literature, including the teachings of Jesus.14 The golden rule itself, appearing in the gospels only in the parallel passages of Matt 7:12 and Luke 6:31, is often attributed to the Sayings Gospel Q.15 Yet a difference exists between these parallels and the Didache primarily with respect to form, as the gospel versions are expressed in the positive (“you shall”) with that of the Didache in the negative (“you shall not”).16 The issue of formula is not unimportant here, since elsewhere in Acts a similar version of the saying appears at 15:20, though 12  See, e. g., Denis M. Farkasfalvy, “’Prophets and Apostles’: The Conjunction of Two Terms before Irenaeus,” in Texts and Testaments, ed. W. Eugene March (San Antonio, TX: Trinity University Press, 1980), 109–34; and more recently, Alistair C. Stewart, The Original Bishops (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014). 13  Jefford, Sayings, 18. I think here especially of the work of Aaron Milavec, The Didache (New York & Mahwah, NJ: Newman, 2003); Alan J. P. Garrow, The Gospel of Matthew’s Dependence on the Didache, JSNTSup 254 (London & New York: T & T Clark, 2004); William Varner, The Way of the Didache (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2007); Thomas O’Loughlin, The Didache (London: SPCK; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010). 14  So, e. g., Sir 7:30; Matt 22:37, 39; Mark 12:30–31; Luke 10:27; Rom 13:8–9; Gal 5:14; Jas 2:8; Gos. Thom. 25. 15 Though there are minor differences between the parallels. Cf. also 1 Clem. 13.2c; Justin, 1 Apol. 93.1; see Jefford, Sayings, 31–33, 36, 50. 16  See Tob 4:15; T.Naph. 1.6; Philo, Hypothetica 7.6; b. Šabb. 31a. This form is also true of the teachings of Hillel. Vokes suggests that the Didachist changed the form from positive to

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only in the Western text family, with several supporting uncial manuscripts and readings from Sahidic Coptic, Irenaeus, and Eusebius of Caesarea. As offered in the critical apparatus of Nestle–Aland28, this variant reads και οσα αν (– D) μη θελωσιν (θελουσιν D) αυτοις (εαυτοις D) γινεσθαι ετεροις μη ποιειν (ποιειτε D) (“and whatever they might not want to happen to themselves, to others do not do”). A quick comparison offers evidence that, while this saying is equivalent in concept to that found in Did. 1.2c, its wording is hardly exact. What remains to ask is whether this negative form of the golden rule found both in the Didache and certain variants of Acts is drawn from common teaching tradition or, more likely, simply reflects diverse usages of the saying known throughout the Mediterranean world, not only among Jewish and messianic sources, but also among other unrelated literature.17 In this particular instance it seems hard to imagine any direct connection between the Didache and Acts with reference to the saying, unless one were to offer some chronological distance between the creation of these works (as shall be argued below). Otherwise, to offer influences from common contexts may be to push the issues of textual dependency and chronology of origin beyond credulity. 2)  Did. 13.1–2 offers two similar teachings concerning prophets and teachers. The first reads “and any true prophet who wishes to stay with you is worthy of their sustenance” (πᾶς δὲ προφήτης ἀληθινὸς θέλων καθῆσθαι πρὸς ὑμᾶς ἄξιός ἐστιν τῆς τροφῆς αὐτοῦ; 13.1), while the second offers “similarly, a true teacher is him / ​herself, like the worker, worthy of their sustenance” (ὡσαύτως διδάσκαλος ἀληθινός ἐστιν ἄξιος καὶ αὐτός, ὥσπερ ὁ ἐργάτης, τῆς τροφῆς αὐτοῦ; 13.2). Two chapters later in 15.1–2 the community is instructed to appoint bishops and deacons to continue the ministry “of the prophets and teachers” (τῶν προφητῶν καὶ διδασκάλων) and thus to function together “with the prophets and teachers” (μετὰ τῶν προφητῶν καὶ διδασκάλων), as though these were specifically designated offices within a broader category of functions.18 While one might identify a basic negative to “conceal the borrowing,” but this seems unlikely; so F. E. Vokes, The Riddle of the Didache (London: SPCK; New York: Macmillan, 1938), 92. 17 See Albrecht Dihle, Die Goldene Regel, Studienhefte zur Altertumswissenschaft 7 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1962); P. S. Alexander, “Jesus and the Golden Rule,” in Hillel and Jesus, ed. James H. Charlesworth and Loren L. Johns (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 363–88; Huub van de Sandt and David Flusser, The Didache, CRINT 3/5 (Assen: Van Gorcum; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002), 158–60. As Alexander observes, in many respects the rule ultimately was seen as a “summation of the law” (pp. 382–88). 18  For consideration of the role of prophet among the apostolic fathers generally, see Clayton N. Jefford, “Prophecy and Prophetism in the Apostolic Fathers,” in Prophets and Prophecy in Jewish and Early Christian Literature, ed. Joseph Verheyden, Korinna Zamfir, and Tobias Nicklas, WUNT 2/286 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 295–316; Farkasfalvy, “Prophets and Apostles.” Otherwise, the presence of ministerial offices in the Didache is particularly curious. See Clayton N. Jefford, “Presbyters in the Community of the Didache,” in StPatr 21, ed. Elizabeth A. Livingstone (Leuven: Peeters, 1989), 122–28; Jonathan A. Draper, “Torah and Troublesome Apostles in the Didache Community,” NovT 33 (1991): 347–92; Giuseppe

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interest in prophets together with teachers within the mind of the Didachist,19 instances of the two mentioned together to the exclusion of other roles does not commonly appear in early messianic literature. At the same time, the apostle Paul himself seems to have considered the functions of apostle, prophet, and teacher to be the premier roles of ministry, though additional offices eventually became the norm.20 Once again Acts presents a similar instance in which prophets are linked with teachers, explicitly at 13:1: “And there were in the Antiochean church prophets and teachers ….”21 Only here in the text, and specifically in reference to the situation at Antioch, are such functions listed together.22 Unlike the golden rule saying, the parallel between Acts and the Didache in this case is more than a simple matter of verbal parallels. Instead, one suspects on the surface there may be some shared understanding of ecclesiastical functions between these two

Visonà, Didachè (Milan: Paoline, 2000), 196–202. In rebuttal of my own position, see Stewart, Original Bishops, 179–81. 19  For various reasons one might argue that concern for some secondary, editorial hand should be considered as background for understanding 15.1–2 here. This view is endorsed through the text-linguistic analysis of Pardee, for example, who links both these sets of materials to a last, major revision of the text; so Nancy Pardee, The Genre and Development of the Didache, WUNT 2/339 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1920), 133–38, 185–86, 189–90. Milavec has changed his mind on this point, originally arguing for the passage as an interpolation (Aaron Milavec, “The Pastoral Genius of the Didache: An Analytical Translation and Commentary,” in Christianity, vol. 2 of Religious Writings and Religious Systems, ed. Jacob Neusner, Ernest S. Frerichs, and A. J. Levine, Brown Studies in Religion 2 [Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989], 119 [pp. 89–125]), though more recently attributing it to the original hand of the Didachist; so Milavec, Didache, 583, 594–98. 20 See 1 Cor 12:28 (so too Herm. Sim. 9.15.4, though cf. Herm. Vis. 3.5.1; Herm. Sim. 9.16.5; 9.25.2); Rordorf and Tuilier, La doctrine, 246. Elsewhere the author of Ephesians links prophets and teachers in a more extensive listing of ecclesiastical leaders (“apostles, prophets, evangelists, shepherds, and teachers”; 4:11), while 2 Tim 1:11 gives the role of teacher together with those of “preacher” (κῆρυξ) and apostle (1:11) without that of prophet. In neither case, however, are prophet and teacher mentioned together to the exclusion of other roles. In contrast, see Mart. Pol. 16.2, in which the bishop Polycarp is called a “prophetic teacher” (διδάσκαλος ἀποστολικὁς). 21 The functions of “prophets and teachers” need not distinguish separate groups here or elsewhere, though the situation is unclear. Thus, while Aune argues in general “that the prophet was never integrated into the organizational structure of local churches” (David E. Aune, Prophecy in Early Christianity and the Ancient Mediterranean World [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983], 203–211 [quotation p. 203]), he envisages that in Acts “the terms ‘prophet’ and ‘teacher’ are probably interchangeable here” (p. 265). Cf. already Adolf Harnack, Lehre der zwölf Apostel nebst Untersuchungen zur ältesten Geschichte der Kirchenverfassung und des Kirchenrechts, TU 2/1–2 (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1893), 88–94, 140–68; Dunn, Acts, 172–73. 22  Pervo (Acts, 321) correctly links this text to previous materials from Acts 11:19–30, offering that the use of names throughout suggests a written source; so too Conzelmann, Acts, 99. Keener (Acts, 2:1982–90) argues that the listing of separate functions does not necessarily endorse individual offices, but acknowledges that the appearance of names suggests diversity of participation within “cosmopolitan Antioch.”

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works otherwise unknown in the literature.23 This raises some intriguing points for consideration, such as whether the Didachist and author of Acts knew of a single community that held prophets and teachers as the core of their ecclesiastical leadership, whether one may imagine that this community was confirmed uniquely in Antioch to the exclusion of others around the Mediterranean, or to the contrary, whether these parallel references are simply allusions to roles otherwise broadly recognized within the nascent church but by happenstance preserved only here in the surviving literature.24 To draw connections in this regard is quite tempting. Yet when considered on its own, there is little evidence by which to draw proper conclusions. 3)  Did. 1.5 and 4.5 speak to the matter of being a cheerful giver, reluctant to receive in return. The first verse finds ready parallel in materials from the Sayings Gospel Q (see Matt 5:42; Luke 6:30) and likely is formulated on that teaching.25 Indeed, the author refers to this instruction as the “commandment” (ἐντολή), observing that those who give according to it are innocent and blessed.26 The second appearance of similar materials in 4.5 suggests a special concern for such teaching by the Didachist, reinforcing the ethical orientation of the writing. A similar emphasis is found in Acts 20:35, a scene in which Paul addresses the Ephesians with the now famous teaching “it is more blessed to give than to receive” (μακάριόν ἐστιν μᾶλλον διδόναι ἢ λαμβάνειν). This instruction (here credited to “the lord Jesus”) stands in clear correspondence to those materials found in the Didache. In all likelihood some original form of this saying was widely known, exemplified by its presence behind the teaching found in the Didache, Acts, 1 Clem. 2.127, and (under the same rubric of ἐντολή) Herm. Man. 2.4–6. With these various equivalents in mind, one must ask once again whether the parallels between the Didache and Acts in this case represent some direct dependence of one author upon the work of the other or, instead, the reliance of both upon some common teaching tradition.28 One of these options may indeed 23 Keener suggests that the presence of “charismatic ministries alongside what became more institutional offices” in the Didache is special in that it finds parallel in Acts, where “[b]oth kinds of leadership also appear”; Keener, Acts, 2:1983. 24 As with Keener, Dunn (Acts, 172–73) likewise recognizes the “diversity of leadership” at Antioch, otherwise noting that the appearance of prophets and teachers together in this context “foreshadows the structure of the churches subsequently established by Paul (Rom 12:6–9; I Cor 12:28).” As he states, “the portrayal here is hardly of [Luke’s] contriving and is assuredly derived from tradition.” Thus both the Didache and Acts likely depict an authentic, early form of messianic leadership in this instance. 25 Jefford, Sayings, 48–51. 26  For the context of this reference within the literature generally, see Anthony Giambrone, “According to the Commandment (Did. 1.5): Lexical Reflections on Almsgiving as ‘The Commandment,’” NTS 60 (2014): 448–65. 27  Pervo, Acts, 528–29. 28  Pervo (Acts, 529) observes, “[i]f an intertextual relationship is proposed, the most likely solution is that Luke took the aphorism from 1 Clement, Christianized it, and attributed it to

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be true, though once again the question may be too difficult to answer based on this single piece of data. It remains for later consideration. 4)  Did. 3.7 provides a much more general comparison of concepts with Acts 7:33 than do the examples given above. Here one finds a single teaching concerning the “meek” (“the humble / ​meek [οἱ πραεῖς] shall inherit the earth”), which is well known from Matt 5:5 and has its roots in Ps 37:11.29 In terms of source comparisons the matter is generally considered to be closed, with some recognition that the Didachist has borrowed either from the Psalms or from Matthew30 or, as seen from the view of some, Matthew has borrowed from the Didache.31 Yet such conclusions leave a broader concern unexamined with regard to Acts. Thus, in Acts 7:32–33 one finds certain words on the lips of Stephen (“And Moses trembled and did not dare to look. Then the Lord said to him, ‘Take off the sandals from your feet, for the place where you are standing is holy ground’”) whereby it might be imagined Acts has employed a common Jewish topos associated with “holy ground / ​earth”32 that was shared as well by the Didachist. Admittedly this is not a quotation of the teaching in question, nor any terminology found there. Yet the motifs of the meek inheriting the earth and holy ground / ​ earth are common to Jewish thought elsewhere in the literature33, which may have provided a launching point from which both authors chose to incorporate this theme into their works. In the final analysis, to suggest that the Didachist has employed the text of Acts or vice versa is an exceptionally weak argument. The sources for each writing (Psalms or Matthew versus the salvation history of Israel) seem clear enough. One must be content instead with the prospect that each author perhaps has Jesus, but the sentiment of Did. 1:5 and the parallels from c. 50 CE onward make appeal to a known source unnecessary.” So too Dunn (Acts, 275), who opines “that the first Christian churches had a common store of Jesus tradition.” See also J. B. Lightfoot, The Apostolic Fathers: Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp, 5 vols. (New York: Macmillan, 1890; repr., Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1989), 2:12 n. 3. Lightfoot lists several usages from various schools of philosophy as well, including Plutarch, Mor. 778c and Seneca, Ep. 81.17. 29 The LXX is an almost exact parallel in this case, omitting only the word “the” before “earth,” which Matthew preserves much as the Didachist. As a variant of this same phrase, CO reads here “the kingdom of heaven” (τὴν βασιλείαν τῶν οὐρανῶν), clearly under the influence of Matt 5:3, 10. For the likely role of this teaching within the “two ways” tradition, see van de Sandt and Flusser, Didache, 134–35. 30  See, e. g., Audet, La didachè, 320–22; Rordorf and Tuilier, La doctrine, 155; Niederwimmer, Didache, 100. 31  Thus Garrow, Dependence, 239–40. 32  At least this was the perspective of Wohleb, who believed “the good earth” to be a common typology of intertestamental, apostolic, and post-apostolic literature. Wohleb identified numerous references from scripture and historical sources for this view; see Leo Wohleb, Die lateinische Übersetzung der Didache, Studien zur Geschichte und Kultur des Altertums 7/1 (Paderborn: Schöningh, 1913), 26–28; Jefford, Sayings, 73 n. 143. 33  For Matt 5:5, see Isa 49:13; Ps 22:27; Prov 16:19; b. Šabb. 30b; b. Ned. 38a; Pesiq. Rab. 36; Josephus, Ant. 19.330; Philo, Mos. 2.279; for Acts 7:32–33, see Exod 3:5; Josh 5:15; Theodoret, On Exodus 3, Question 7; m. Ber. 9:5; m. Soṭah 40a; y. Šeqal. 5.48d.

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tapped into the theme of “holy ground / ​earth” as a secondary element within their presentations. The Didachist has used it as an element of instruction and the author of Acts, as a witness to divine activity in Jewish tradition. In neither text is the theme primary, but a secondary witness to an ancient concept that is largely Jewish in scope. 5)  Two final parallels present more complex situations and demand closer examination. The first of these appears in Did. 4.8, which reads as follows: Do not turn away the one in need, but share all things with your brother and do not claim anything for yourself; for if you are sharers in what is permanent, how much more in transitory things?34

This simple instruction offers an elaboration of Lev 19:18 (“love your neighbor as yourself”) and may possibly be seen as the work of a redactor.35 There is another possibility, however, when one considers similar comments in Acts, which appear in two places: And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. (2:44–45 ESV) Now the full number of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things that belonged to him was his own, but they had everything in common. (4:32 ESV)

These passages are not calls to action, unlike that of the Didache, but are typical narrative comments on the activities of the earliest community of believers in Jerusalem.36 Much like the source of the Didache’s teaching itself, the reader of

34 The text of L contains the only parallel to the Greek (found both in H and Barn. 19.8a), reading similarly: “Do not turn yourself from the person in need but share all things with your brother; for if we are sharers in the immortal, how much more should we begin from there, since the Lord wishes to give gifts to all.” The term “immortal” (immortalibus) is an emendation of Ms. Monacensis lat. 6264 (one of two primary texts for the Latin), which actually contains the word “mortal” (mortalibus) from the hand of the scribe. Editorial finesse brings the Latin into basic conformity with the Greek, assuming a case for homeoteleuton (enim mortalibus for enim in immortalibus). If the term mortalibus was what the scribe actually intended, however, another sense ensues based on the premise. That is, to the extent one participates in a mortal world (given by God), a person should likewise share his or her blessings with others who are in need of mortal things. Hence, the emendation may be unwarranted. 35  See Jefford, Sayings of Jesus, 83. 36  See Pervo, Acts, 94, 126–27. Pervo observes that while “[t]he subjects are similar, the emphases differ” between these passages, with little about “community” worship in chapter 4 (p. 126). This undoubtedly is true, yet at the same time (as Pervo himself notes) “both summaries begin with a general note about community life (2:42; 4:32), paired with a summary of apostolic activity (2:43; 4:33),” thus to indicate what must be essentially important concerning an appropriate lifestyle as informed by messianic teaching, at least from the perspective of the author. Thus, the authority of legitimate instruction is the common denominator for how believers should live, which is the essence of the Didache’s orientation as we know the text from H.

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Acts is likely expected to see the essential instruction of Lev 19:18 at work in the lives of those who received the faith. For present purposes the question yet again is whether one author has been influenced by the work of the other. As with the discussion of Did. 3.7 above, there is no special reason to think this is the case. Yet the matter of theme comes into consideration once more. On the one hand, one might be pressed to ask whether the teaching in Did. 4.8 does not reflect something of a foundational logion on which the activities portrayed in Acts are recalled. Such teaching is not widely known in this form within early messianic literature apart from an equivalent saying found in Barn. 19.8, whose “two ways” instruction in chapters 18–21 presents a ready ancient parallel, though the historical relationship between these two sets of materials remains uncertain.37 One might always argue instead that Lev 19:18 is behind the impetus for the Jerusalem community’s actions in this regard or perhaps even the similarly developed instruction of Sir 4:5a: “Do not turn your eye from the needy.”38 But such a suggestion holds little more weight than to imagine that the Didache depends on one or the other source, while Acts itself relies on some similar intermediary step in the tradition, that is, either the saying as preserved in the Didache or some similar form that circulated among the early believing communities. On the other hand, one might be tempted to ask whether it is not true that the narrative of Acts has come first and the Didachist (or some editor) has crafted a “word of the Lord” using either Leviticus and / ​or Sirach as a reflection of the account that Acts has provided. Once again, this need not necessitate that the Didachist (or some later editor) knew the text of Acts directly.39 What the Didachist (or a later editor) may have recalled in this regard are the historical circumstances under which the Jerusalem church received its gospel message and shared its resources one with another in response.40 The temptation to offer specific instruction via the Lord that justified these actions would have come quite naturally in reply. There will be those who might argue in either of these directions of trajectory, if one were indeed to choose one or the other. But again the issue is a suggestion 37  On this problem, see James N. Rhodes, “The Two Ways Tradition in the Epistle of Barnabas: Revisiting an Old Question,” CBQ 73 (2011): 797–816. 38  On the probable impact of Sirach upon the vision of both the Didache and Matthew, see Clayton N. Jefford, “The Wisdom of Sirach and the Glue of the Matthew–Didache Tradition,” in Intertextuality in the Second Century, ed. D. Jeffrey Bingham and Clayton N. Jefford, The Bible in Ancient Christianity 11 (Leiden & Boston: Brill, 2016), 8–23. 39  Indeed, Niederwimmer (Didache, 108–9) believes neither was the Didachist working with knowledge of Acts “[n]or, obviously, was there any thought in the original pre‑ or non-Christian tractate of the primitive Christian community as depicted in Acts 2:44–45; 4:32–37.” 40  Wengst (Didache, 35) suggests that such teachings may have had a socially cohesive purpose for binding the Didachist’s community together.

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only and not proof. The comparison of instruction from the Didache and of narrative from Acts in this case makes for some intriguing possibilities that need further reflection. 6)  The final passage from the Didache that holds the greatest possibility in this analysis appears in Did. 6.1–3. This text is preserved in H as follows: See that no one diverts you from this way of teaching, since that one teaches you with no concern for God. For if you can bear the whole yoke of the Lord, you will be satisfied.41 And if you cannot, do what you can.42 And regarding food, accept what you can; but certainly avoid what is offered to idols, for it is in service to dead gods.

One is immediately reminded of the setting found in Acts 15.6–41 in which the so-called “apostolic council” of Jerusalem is remembered and the resulting “apostolic decree” concerning limited restrictions for non-Jewish believers is delivered.43 One might ask whether the Didachist has here preserved the essence of the wording from the decree itself as known from the archives of the church at Antioch, the location to which Acts states the missive was directed.44 Typical of Acts itself then, the materials of chapter 15 offer a narrative context in which to envisage how the decree came into existence and thus to portray the apostolic origins within Jerusalem toward the Noachide commandments eventually recognized throughout the Mediterranean world.45 If such a perspective may be maintained, then the Didache would form a secondary confirmation of the historical reality otherwise portrayed by the author of Acts. This assumes, of course, that each author reflects some awareness of a specific historical event shared by the communities at Jerusalem and Antioch. At the same time, one might be tempted to see the situation the other way around. This is to say that, if at least Did. 6.2–3 were added by a redactor with knowledge of the actual text of Acts 15, the testimony of the Didache might be secondary in nature and not a direct attestation to the circumstances either in Jerusalem or Antioch in the middle of the first century. “perfect” (τέλειος).  The text of G (no longer available) seemed to read with the Greek of H throughout chapter 6, though at this point offering the phrase “if only your faith is the true faith and sincere and [of] good conscience.” This wording either was omitted by the tradition behind H or, more likely, was added to G as rationalization for why one may with justification break with bearing “the whole yoke.” 43 See specifically vv. 19–20 and 28–29 for this matter. Dunn, Acts, 195–211; Alan F. Segal, “Acts 15 as Jewish and Christian History,” Forum NS 4/1 (2001): 63–87; Pervo, Acts, 364–87; Keener, Acts, 3:2194–2296. 44 Apart from the references given in note 8 above, see W. Telfer, “The Didache and the Apostolic Synod of Antioch,” JTS 40 (1939): 133–46; Kraft, Barnabas and the Didache, 163; Jefford, Sayings, 96–98. 45 The Didache’s teaching by which one may avoid complete acceptance of Torah (if one assigned this passage to the Didachist) might lay groundwork for a vision of two levels of Christianity in Antioch within later tradition. See Sarah C. Winter, “Antioch in Acts & Maccoby’s ‘Two-Tiered’ Christianity,” Forum NS 4/1 (2001): 27–44. 41 Or 42

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The question then is when this addition was brought to the textual tradition of the Didache. The third-century witness of L does not contain this ending, but recognizes an entirely different conclusion,46 thus likely reflecting an ancient tradition that does not support the reading of the Greek text of the Didache.47 Beyond this, the late fourth-century text of AC 7, which is written with the Didache as the foundation of its teaching, offers only partial agreement with H and L. Thus one reads here: See that no one lead you from piety …. But abstain from things offered to idols, for they are offered in honor of demons, that is, against the honor of God, so that you may not partner with demons. (AC 7.19–21)

This reading indicates that even in the Greek one finds a version of the Didache used in the post-Constantinian era with at best a reduced form of the ending known from H. Finally, none of the known manuscripts of Barnabas 18–20, which contain close parallels to the “two ways” teaching of Didache 1–6, contain any similar ending. The earliest of these manuscripts is Codex Sinaiticus dating to the fourth century, and the latest, based on a common defective source, to the eleventh–thirteenth centuries. The limited manuscript evidence available once again does not present a conclusive reading for the original ending of Didache 6, nor do the various dates for those textual traditions offer specific insight into when such an editorial addition was inserted. The use of such language as “yoke” (ζυγός) and “perfect” (τέλειος) here, as well as the concern for Noachide commandments in 6.3,48 suggest that such an addition was not very late. Simultaneously, all textual evidence apart from H itself recommends the opposite. This is to say that if H is an accurate rendering of the original ending of Didache 6, then all other textual witnesses 46 Thus one reads here: “And see to it that no one calls you away from this teaching, and if anything less, you shall be taught beyond [your present] teaching. If you pay attention and do these things daily, you shall stay close to the living God; but if you do not do them, you shall be far from the truth. Place all these things in your soul and do not lose your hope, and through these holy struggles you shall arrive at the throne, through Jesus Christ ruling as Lord with God the Father and the Holy Spirit forever and ever. Amen.” 47 See the discussion of Pardee here, especially contesting the view of Milavec (Didache, 58–59) that the passage is both original and unified; Pardee, Genre and Development, 54–57, 184–86. 48  For a helpful review of this teaching within early messianic and rabbinic literature, see Markus Bockmuehl, Jewish Law in Gentile Churches (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2000), 145–73. Bockmuehl observes specifically about the setting of Acts 15: “The form in which these principles are given shows signs both of Lucan redaction and of considerable subsequent textual variation. For our purposes, however, what matters most is that in their original text form the principles themselves are strongly reminiscent of the second-century lists of Noachide Commandments: ‘to abstain from what has been sacrificed to idols and from blood and from what is strangled and from fornication ….” (p. 165). In some respects this analysis appears to support the late date for Acts offered by the revisionists. At the same time, the same argues against any original use of Acts by the Didachist (if writing in the first century), but in favor of a later editor of the Didache text.

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indicate that it was either omitted at the time of writing, has been greatly altered by the editor(s) of H, or was simply unknown to those versions of the “two ways” used by various patristic sources. This is difficult to imagine, and it yet again presents an unresolved situation.

III. Observations The several parallels listed above do not recommend on the surface any particularly close association between the literary history of the Didache and that of Acts. At the same time it may be possible to imagine some tentative awareness from the evidence that would shed additional light on the historical trajectory of the Didache’s evolution. The closest parallel to be found is that of Did. 6.1–3 and Acts 15 (item 6 above). While it is indeed possible to see these passages as independent reflections of a historical moment in the relationship of the Jerusalem and Antiochean communities, the rudimentary omission of this material in the manuscript evidence for the Didache prior to G and H does not endorse this view. At the same time, the limited teaching found in AC that offers the simple instruction not to be diverted from piety (paralleled both in H and L) and to avoid food offered to idols suggests that what now appears in H does indeed encapsulate a greatly expanded version of some more limited instruction that circulated prior to the Constantinian period. The admonition not to be distracted from piety is clearly endorsed by the manuscript traditions but is not of concern for our purposes. Restrictions of the Noachide commandments about food rituals, however, are indeed important, thus to suggest that the original ending of Didache 6 may have included some warning about eating practices at the end of the earliest “two ways” sequence, though this remains uncertain. This conclusion need not be viewed as irrefutable, but only as a possibility. More to the point is that, based on limited manuscript evidence for Didache 6, one may more readily envisage that the warning about food offered to idols became a natural segue to a later, editorial revision of these materials as they now appear in the instruction found in H. What was originally some limited instruction concerning food rituals generally observed by messianic Jews as they associated with believers among the nations may have been present as a simple instruction in Did. 6.3, and it certainly became the focus of Acts 15. What one now finds in H about the yoke of the Lord, becoming complete, accepting whatever of this practice one is able, and food offered to idols being service to dead gods looks more like the work of a later editor, perhaps working sometime during the fourth-fifth centuries and before the construction of H and G. In this regard then one might imagine that such revisions, brief as they are, incorporate knowledge of Acts 15 as the foundation for their insertion. Here one finds par-

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allels in terms such as “yoke” (ζυγός; Acts 15:10) and “idols” (εἰδώλοι; Acts 15:20) to suggest a verbal connection, yet it is likely that the editor had other passages in mind as well, incorporating language from Matt 11:29 about embracing the yoke of Christ and, more specifically, the passage from Paul in which he refutes “eating food offered to idols” (εἰδωλεῖον)49 as irrelevant, since idols have no real existence (1 Cor 8:4).50 The influence of Pauline language intermingled with the Jerusalem context offered by Acts 15 surely became a powerful image for reflection at this stage in H (and G). The utility of such visualization for the empire’s “church” under Theodosius I and subsequent emperors would have been a useful tool in the organization of an ancient Christian mythos about the roots of the ecclesiastical agenda (beginning with Jerusalem) and its validity for authority and instruction in the later Roman empire (concluding with Byzantium and Rome). Turning to the remaining parallels, one might ask whether other materials from the Didache endorse a similar vision. One turns then to the situation of Did. 4.8 (item 5 above) and the instruction not to withhold material goods from a neighbor in need. This teaching is generally recognized as a basic tenet within Jewish ethics51 and is thus hardly unique to messianic traditions themselves. More importantly with respect to the Didache is the associated teaching found at 1.5 and 4.5 (item 3 above), whose presence suggests a similar concern at two points in the text.52 One is tempted to see this theme as an essential concern of the Didachist at the most basic level.53 Yet the instruction of 1.5 is not generally accepted as part of the original text, since 1.3b–2.1 is typically attributed to a later hand54 and, by some scholars, 1.5–6 itself is viewed as an even later addition to that initial redaction.55 49 This is the term employed in Did. 6.3, which is more likely shaped by the wording of Paul than by Acts. 50  Though this does not take into account Paul’s comments in 1 Cor 10:14–22, of course. 51 Apart from principles found in Hebrew scripture, one need only think of subsequent texts such as 2 En. 42:6–14 and m. Pe’ah to make such an argument. On the topic of Jewish influence on messianic ethical systems generally, see Bockmuehl, Jewish Law, 177–240. For classical views concerning the “virtues” (wisdom, courage, temperance, justice) held by the Jews, consult Louis H. Feldman, Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 201–32. 52  With particular awareness of how this text reflects the view of charity among late Jewish and early Christian writers, see Giambrone, “According to the Commandment.” More generally, see Gregg E. Gardner, The Origins of Organized Charity in Rabbinic Judaism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015). 53 Contra Niederwimmer, Didache, 109. 54  Originally offered by Bentley Layton, “The Sources, Date and Transmission of Didache 1.3b–2.1,” HTR 61 (1968): 343–83; most recently, see Perttu Nikander, “The Sectio Evangelica (Didache 1.3b–2.1) and Performance,” in The Didache, ed. Jonathan A. Draper and Clayton N. Jefford, ECL 14 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 287–310. 55  With respect to manuscript evidence, 1.3b–2.1 is missing in L and CO (so too Barnabas), POxy includes 1.4 only, and AC and G omit 1.5b–2.1. It is worth mention, however, that the

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Since the originality of 1.5 is commonly questioned and should perhaps even be seen as a later insertion, one finds good reason to identify this special concern for meeting the needs of others as a distinct focus within the expansion of the post-Constantinian church. Returning to the issue of the yoke and food rituals cited above, once again one finds a particular concern within the fourth-fifth century church for distribution of goods among fellow believers.56 As previously discussed, even if one should agree that to some extent this teaching was original to the logia of Jesus per se, one might envision more properly that through reflection on the narratives found in Acts 2:44–45 and 4:32 (as well as under the influence of Lev 19:18 and Sir 4.5a), the materials of Did. 4.5 and 1.5–6 (if not 1.3b–2.1 more generally) have been considerably expanded by a later editor whose focus is that of contemporary ecclesiastical teaching. What remains to be considered are three lesser parallels that may now be seen from the perspective offered for Did. 1.2 and 6.1–3. It is suggested here that these in turn support an awareness similar to the passages discussed above, though undoubtedly to a lesser degree. Did. 1.2c, concerning the golden rule (item 1 above), fits appropriately into the Didache’s concern for the welfare of others as seen already in 1.5 and 4.8, and in light of observations made above, one is tempted to agree with Niederwimmer (following the observations of Knopf) that this is not the “third part of the principal commandment” but an interpretation of love of neighbor.57 Thus one finds within the entirety of this opening “statement of main principles”58 a concern for neighbor that dominates the Didache’s orientation. This undoubtedly was true already for the Didachist at the original time of writing, but appears to have been even more a focus of later editorial activity under the Byzantine Empire’s united church and state.59 phrase “for the Lord wishes to give to all from his own gifts” (omnibus enim dominus dare vult de donis suis) is preserved in L at the conclusion of 4.8, thus to suggest some original association of this phrase, not with 1.3b–2.1, but with the remaining materials. See the discussions of Garrow, Dependence, 150–53; Pardee, Genre and Development, 156 n. 61, 186 56 Claudia Rapp, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 211–26. Rapp observes, “The Christian obligation to look after those community members who were in need, especially widows and orphans, has its roots in Jewish tradition. But while the Jewish communities looked after their own, Christian teaching made it a religious duty to extend charity to all, even if they were not of the same religion” (p. 223). See too, Susan R. Holman, The Hungry Are Dying, OSHT (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). 57  Niederwimmer, Didache, 66–67. See Alfred Knopf, Die Lehre der zwölf Apostel: Die zwei Clemensbriefe, HNT, Ergänzungsband: Die apostolischen Väter 1 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1920), 5. 58  At least in a text–linguistic sense this is how Pardee defines the nature of all three sayings in 1.2b–c; Pardee, Genre and Development, 86–87. This view seems justified, since all manuscripts include these teachings without exception. 59  Though the origins of such activity are clearly evident in the New Testament, the effect continued thereafter. See Carolyn Osiek, Rich and Poor in the Shepherd of Hermas, CBQMS

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The singular appearance of this teaching within the Western text family of Acts 15:20 recommends that, at least with consideration to origin, this editorial addition might be dated sometime prior to the sixth century. Pervo correctly observes about the following materials in 15:2160 that “[t]he passage assumes that Judaism is a world religion and that the synagogue is of venerable antiquity,”61 thus to suggest (in my opinion) a consciousness later than the early second century.62 One suspects that such a view as drawn from Jewish culture and teaching could have provided some editor of D with ample opportunity for the insertion of the golden rule. To have borrowed this negative form from Jewish tradition is possible, but its appearance in the Didache suggests already common usage within Christian tradition. Contrary to what is advocated elsewhere in this essay, this may be the single instance in which the editor of the Western text family of Acts may have actually employed the Didache as a source.63 Nevertheless, in this respect one might admit that the influence of the fourth-fifth century church is seen as appropriate here, particularly given the saying’s appearance in the manuscript witness of AC. Its inclusion in L, CO, and Eth indicates the teaching was recognized as a staple of messianic instruction prior to this period, and thus widely known and employed. Did. 3.7 concerning the “humble / ​meek” (item 4 above) resists any clear parallel to Acts (see 7:33) since the connection in question is primarily that of “holy ground” considerations. Here the view that some influence is evident is certainly not as strong as elsewhere among the parallels. Indeed, since all manuscript traditions of the Didache contain this saying, one may wish to discard this evidence as irrelevant. Yet this having been said, there is nothing specific to argue against the idea that the teaching was viewed by later editors as a warrant from Matt 5:5 (or perhaps Ps 37:11) to support the rationale for why the sanctity of God’s 15 (Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1983); Bruce W. Winter, Seek the Welfare of the City, First–Century Christians in the Graeco–Roman World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Carlisle, UK: Paternoster, 1994); J. Ian H. McDonald, The Crucible of Christian Morality, Religion in the First Christian Centuries (London & New York: Routledge, 1998). 60  “For from ancient generations Moses has had in every city those who proclaim him, for he is read every Sabbath in the synagogues” (ESV). 61 Pervo (Acts, 378) offers no illumination on the relevance of this wording, disclaiming the view of Dibelius that the verse is a gloss; so Martin Dibelius, Studies in the Acts of the Apostles, ed. Heinrich Greeven; trans. M. Ling and Paul Schubert (New York: Scribner’s Sons, 1956), 92. If Dibelius may be taken seriously here, however, it would appear the passage already provides ready context for the Western text family’s insertion of the rule at this point. 62  The author of Acts is roundly credited with great creativity in this chapter (so Pervo, Acts, 364–96; Profit with Delight [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987], 40–41; and more recently, Keener, Acts, 3:2194–2296). This being the case, one might be loath to deny further creativity in these materials on behalf of later editors. 63 Thus it was observed originally by Kirsopp Lake: “If the saying be part of the true text of the Acts, it would here most naturally be attributed to the use of the Acts. If it be regarded as a gloss in Acts, the Didache may have originated such a gloss.” Oxford Society of Historical Theology, The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers (Oxford: Clarendon, 1905), 26.

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earth must be respected.64 In this respect then one might recognize that what appears in the remaining materials of Acts 7:34 (“I have seen the affliction of my people … and have heard their groaning ….”; ESV) would again fit appropriately within the concern for those in need, as seen above. The final parallel is that of “prophets and teachers” from Did. 13.1–2 and 15.1–2 (item 2 above), understood in loose parallel with Acts 13:1 concerning those who governed the community in Antioch. Unlike the argument for charity associated with the remaining parallels, there is no particular reason to associate this verbal equivalence with a late date in the growth of the Didache tradition, especially since the post-Constantinian church already was structured with a much more complicated system of governance. Again, the comparison may be early (or even perhaps original) in the evolution of the textual tradition, perhaps to be assigned to the Didachist straight away. But since this phrase is not widely recognized within the literature, it is also possible that its presence in the Didache was perceived by a later redactor to make explicit connection with the form of administration associated precisely with the community in Antioch as a certain ecclesiastical link between the text and the geographical tradition from which it was believed to come.65 Though subtle, this would again indicate that materials typically attributed to the Didachist were later recognized as important to a more ecclesiastically conscious editor of the post-Constantinian period. Without certainty, of course, this remains nonetheless plausible. Faced with contemporary views that argue for an earlier (that is, first-century) date for the Didache and that give credit to the revisionist argument by which Acts likely derives from a second-century milieu, one might now offer the following observations concerning the set of six parallels between these texts. In this respect I follow the options identified as possible relationships between the works (as identified above), followed thereafter by more general comments. There is no particular reason to believe the author of Acts knew and used the Didache in the construction of that work. Having made consistent use of scripture via citation formula throughout, Acts does not do likewise with respect to the Didache.66 The single exception might be the case of the golden rule logion (Did. 1.2c / ​Acts 15:20) found in the Western text family. Yet even if this were 64 Indeed, the teaching does not appear in the parallel materials of Barnabas 18–21, apart perhaps from the simple command “to be humble” (ἔσῃ πραΰς), suggesting that whenever these witnesses divided with respect to the “two ways” tradition, the saying likely was added thereafter to the text of the Didache. For an understanding of this teaching from the perspective at Qumran in which the promise to the “poor ones” is that via their status they would eventually gain control of the temple in Jerusalem, see van de Sandt and Flusser, Didache, 134–35. 65 Hence my assumption from the beginning that the Didache originated in Antioch. One observes, for example, that AC likewise is often attributed to the environs of Antioch, thus to explain why the authority of the Didache may have held such weight for its editors. 66 It is not scripture alone that is viewed as authority within early Christian literature, of

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true, there is much to argue instead for the editor’s dependence on the saying’s circulation within late Judaism and / ​or early messianic sources and, beyond that, the likelihood that this saying was inserted secondarily at some date later than the original framing of the text. In this respect one must argue that, given an early date for the Didache and late date for Acts, this certainly does not by necessity mean that the author of the latter work was aware of materials preserved by the Didachist. By the same token, there is no particular reason to think the Didachist knew the text of Acts. No consistent reference to the teachings of Acts appears throughout the Didache, nor does the narrative of that work appear to be of interest to the themes of the Didachist. Most importantly for present purposes, an early date for the Didache and late date for Acts inescapably argues against such a conclusion. In other respects one might argue more profitably that the Didache and Acts drew from common tradition generally without dependence one upon the other. This seems to be the basic assumption of current scholarship, given that the Didache is little aware of Luke–Acts tradition overall and that the various elements identified here have shared parallels throughout the literature. For example, one might note without much debate that teachings about giving without hesitation and the need to be generous (Did. 1.5; 4.5, 8 / ​Acts 2:44–45; 4:32–37; 20:35)67, not to mention the golden rule, are typical of late Jewish and early messianic instruction in a fundamental sense. So too, concerns for holy ground / ​earth language (Did. 3.7/Acts 7:33) are characteristic of the same teaching perspective. Consideration of prophets with teachers (Did. 13.1–2; 15.1–2 / ​Acts 13:1), while not typical of early messianic settings as known from the literature, may also have been recognized to some degree among disparate communities. Likewise, the concern for Noachide commandments (Did. 6.1–3 / ​Acts 15:6 ff.) clearly arose as an issue over time within the early messianic world. All this is acknowledged here. Yet an important objection to the assumption of common tradition is that the text of the Didache in which such materials appear is not always identified as original to the Didachist. Thus by way of example, Did. 1.5 is not preserved in L, POxy, CO, or G, while Did. 6.1–3 is either missing entirely (POxy, Eth, CO)68 or substantially reduced in form (L, AC). In such cases one would need to argue that, while the Vorlage of the Didache (however that may be defined) originally held such materials, their preservation was haphazard within the manuscript tradition, perhaps often having been omitted or altered for editorial reasons. More likely, however, the form of these materials course. AC 7, for instance, appears to build its case on the testimony of the Didache throughout, offering scripture as a means of illustration rather than as the framework for the argument itself. 67 Though, it has been suggested above that the saying in Did. 1.5 may have been constructed secondarily by a later editor to serve as a perceived logion of Jesus as a way to reinforce the authority and antiquity of the teaching. 68 So too Barnabas.

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as they are now preserved in H has been greatly altered by a later hand. In other words, what scholars too often assume to be the original form of the Didache (based on H) likely contains many additions and alterations that are not justified as original according to the evidence of earlier manuscripts. Perhaps a more complete way in which to understand the historical relationship of these texts would be to offer a combination of processes, taking seriously the likelihood that many of these themes were known by the Didachist during the time of the text’s composition but, as a key consideration, that later editors of the manuscript tradition chose to accentuate them in light of evidence gained from the text of Acts that circulated more widely by the third century. Hence, one might say the editors of the Didache did indeed know Acts (even if the Didachist did not) and made use of its materials in an effort to modify the text. To illustrate my suggestion more simply, a chart of likely prospects is offered below. These proposals include options gained from what is known from late Jewish and early messianic literature generally, as well as what is evident from the relatively late manuscript evidence for the Didache. Didache (with Origin)

Acts

1.2c (Didachist)

15:20 D golden rule

1.5 (editor)

20:35

give without ­hesitation

3.7 (Didachist)

7:33

holy ground (the meek)

√

√

4.5 (unclear)

20:35

give without ­hesitation

√ (?)

√

4.8 (unclear)

2:44 f.; 4:32 ff.

be generous

√ (?)

√ (?)

6.1–3 (unclear)

15:6 ff.

yoke / ​Noachide laws

√ (?)

√

13.1–2 (Didachist) 13.1

prophets and teachers

√

√

15.1–2 (editor)

prophets and teachers

13.1

Theme

Common Acts uses Didache EdiTradition Didache tors use Acts √

√ √

√

I propose here that, apart from the secondary addition of the golden rule material into the narrative of Acts 15:20 D (perhaps taken from Did. 1.2c), all other parallels could have been employed in some limited form by the Didachist in the first century as essential teaching of late Jewish and / ​or early messianic instruction. But since the earliest manuscripts for the Didache do not support this evidence in a clear fashion and given the orientation of the post-Constantinian church toward issues of community support, legitimatization of tradition, and uniformity of ecclesiastical leadership, it seems prudent to imagine that later

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editors from the fourth-fifth centuries (as seen from the manuscript tradition itself) chose to reinforce such themes and emphases within the Didache in order to strengthen the text’s value for the institution’s immediate concerns. In many respects a similar process is evidenced in AC 7, where the Didache is employed as illustrative of the essence of ancient teaching, though supplemented broadly with a variety of scriptural support. What remains to be recognized is that such efforts were not restricted to the editors of the Apostolic Constitutions, but were evident throughout all the manuscript traditions of the Didache associated with this period in ecclesiastical history. One final comment deserves brief notation here. Apart from the command to give freely in Did. 1.5 and 4.5 with rough parallel in Acts 20:35, all other connections from Acts derive from materials found in chapters 2–15. This is curious to the extent that the majority of traditions associated with the apostle Paul are thereby omitted from consideration with the exception of Paul’s presence at the stoning of Stephen (7:58), the first recitation of his so-called “conversion” experience (9:1–31), and his initial missionary travels with Barnabas (13:1–14:28). Because there is indeed actually one parallel in Acts 20:35, it may simply be true that materials that the later editors of the Didache sought to borrow were more readily found in these early chapters than in the later travels of Paul. At the same time, however, another possibility may be a situation in which the editors of the Didache had only a limited copy of the text of Acts at their disposal, one that included some portion of the ministry of the apostles and evangelists, combined with the first missionary journey of Paul and Barnabas, and concluding with the apostolic council in Jerusalem (thus, some portion of Acts 1–15). Of course, this would preclude 20:35 from consideration, requiring that its insertion was drawn from elsewhere. But this specific exception would not automatically disprove the thesis in general. While one may not wish to push too hard for the existence of such a limited manuscript during the fourthfifth centuries based simply on the prospect that Acts itself (being such a large work) may have been released in stages during the course of its production,69 it is nevertheless to be imagined that some limited version of the text continued to circulate in one form or another at this late date.70

69  On this point, see the useful survey of Keener, Acts, 1:43–50. Awareness of consistent revision of texts among ancient writers is well-illustrated by authors such as Quintilian, Inst. 10.6.1–2; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Comp. 9; Thuc. 24; Pliny, Ep. 7.17.1–10. 70  This is justified by the wide variety of evidence for the text that circulated well into the post-Constantinian period. See Peter Head, “Acts and the Problem of Its Texts,” in The Book of Acts in Its Ancient Literary Setting, ed. Bruce W. Winter and Andrew D. Clarke , BAFCS 1 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 415–44; James K. Elliott, “The Greek Manuscript Heritage of the Book of Acts,” Filologia Neotestamentaria 17 (1996): 37–50; Pervo, Acts, 1–5.

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IV. Conclusions In the final analysis I have attempted to demonstrate that scholarly assumptions about the use of common traditions known to the Didachist and author of Acts likely need some correction. This is necessitated to the extent that one accepts the current view of a first-century date for the Didache together with the revisionists’ assessment that Acts is a second-century text. Of the several potential parallels between these two works, most may be explained to some limited extent by recognition that each author made use of commonly known teachings, either from Jewish tradition or logia associated with the historical Jesus. This is not possible in every case, however, leaving the researcher with a feeling that certain elements within the Didache reflect not only editorial manipulation (as recognized by most scholars and supported by manuscript evidence) but the secondary influence of a post-Constantinian church that sought to reshape ancient messianic literature into a usable format for the good of the institution. To this extent, I now freely admit that my mind has changed and hopefully, as Buscaglia suggests, we have all come to learn something more about the historical relationship of these materials.

Tabitha / ​Dorcas, Spinning Off Cultural Criticism Amy-Jill Levine Luke’s Tabitha has lost the preeminent rights to her name. The first sentence on the Wikipedia page for “Tabitha” reads, “For the television series spun off from Bewitched, see Tabitha (TV series). For the New Testament character known in Greek as Dorcas, see Dorcas.” For American popular culture, Tabitha is a fictional witch, not an ancient disciple. The biblical Tabitha has also lost a fair share of scholarly attention.1 Already in 1965, Ernst Haenchen stated, with no small degree of accuracy, “Practically all the questions raised by this passage [Acts 9:2–43] were heralded long ago …. More recent research has brought little fresh.”2 For all of Acts 9:31–42 – the accounts of Tabitha in Joppa and Aeneas in Lydda – Hans Conzelmann’s 287-page Hermeneia commentary offered two pages, including the translation.3 The Sacra Pagina commentary offers only five pages, including text and bibliography.4 Other major commentaries are equally limited. It appears there is simply not much to say about the New Testament’s only explicitly named female disciple. Reading the two Tabithas, first-century disciple and twentieth-century witch, in light of each other yields insights into ethnicity and religious identity, self and other, gender constructions, and reader reception. The point of this exercise is not (merely) to be clever,5 but to show how cultural criticism allows insight into ancient texts and opens new possibilities of interpretation. If one can profitably compare the Book of Acts to the Hellenistic romance, then one can just as profitably compare the miraculous story of Tabitha in Acts 9 to the story of the magical Tabitha on ABC. 1 For an excellent summary of commentary, see Janice Capel Anderson, “Reading Tabitha: A Feminist Reception History,” pp. 108–44 in The New Literary Criticism and the New Testament (Elizabeth Struthers Malbon and Edgar V. McKnight, eds.; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994). 2 Ernst Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles. A Commentary (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1971, translated from the 14th German edition [1965], 340). 3  Hans Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles, Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987 [first ed. 1963]), 76–77. 4  Luke Timothy Johnson, Acts. Sacra Pagina 5 (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1992), 176–180. 5  I am not the only person to remark on the connection, although it is rare in exegetical studies. Noting the connection and noting as well, correctly, there is no suspicion of “goddess worship / ​devil conspiracy” in the TV connection but rather “an interesting piece of trivia,” is Susan Campbell, Dating Jesus: A Story of Fundamentalism, Feminism, and the American Girl (Boston: Beacon Press, 2009), 21

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I. The Television Context In 1964, the television show “Bewitched,” starring Elizabeth Montgomery as the witch Samantha, Dick York as her mortal husband Darrin, and Agnes Morehead as her aptly named mother Endora, premiered on ABC. In the second year of the show, the happy couple produced a child, Tabitha, played eventually by Erin Murphy.6 The Stephens family, soon to add a son, Adam (Greg and David Lawrence), delighted viewers, even when Dick York, unable to continue filming because of back problems, was replaced by Dick Sargent. Changes in producers, the deaths of several beloved actors in supporting roles, and a repetitive plotline prompted the show’s exorcism from the network in March 1972. In September of 1977, the spin-off, titled “Tabitha,” featured Lisa Hartman in the lead role. Tabitha grew up (remarkably quickly) to be a lovely, talented production assistant at (fictional) Los Angeles television station KXLA, the love interest of Robert Urich,7 and a magical prodigy. Accompanying her were her now-mortal brother Adam, her supportive Aunt Minerva, and her lovable boss Marvin. Unable to capture the magic of the original show, the series was cancelled (after, appropriately, thirteen episodes) in January 1978. “Bewitched” tapped into 1960’s American interest in / ​romance with / ​fear of the uncanny in depicting people next door who “look like us” but are not, or who are versions “of us”, but monstrous. As neighborhoods and schools faced pressures to integrate, as the Cold War still prompted fears of wolves in sheep’s clothing, and as suburbia put together strangers, television responded with optimism. The August 1963 “March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom,” at which Martin Luther King, Jr. proclaimed, “I have a dream …” underlies mid-decade television programming. Differences – ethnic, racial, religious – needed to be addressed, as did the matter of equal rights. “I Dream of Jeannie” [9/1965–5/1970], “My Favorite Martian” [9/1963–5/1966], “The Munsters” [9/1964–5/1966], “The Addams Family” [9/1964–4/1966] and even “Star Trek” [1966–1969] allayed some fears of social change and cultural diversity. The major trope of “Bewitched” is one of “passing”: the witch attempts to function like a “normal” person. (Inter)married to the all-American Darrin (Dick York or Dick Sargent) – the goyische male, like the children originally played by twins, is interchangeable  – Samantha retains her distinct cultural markers. As Jonathan Z. S. Pollack noted, “Some viewers, both during the show’s initial run and since, saw the show’s witch-marries-mortal premise as a metaphor for interracial relationships. However, in many ways, the show more accurately 6  Tabitha was also played by Cynthia Black (1966); Heidi and Laura Gentry (1966); Tamar and Julie Young (1966); and Diane Murphy (1966–1968). 7  Urich went on to star in S. W. A. T. and then Vega$. His 1996 aptly named “Lazarus Man” was cancelled when he revealed that he had cancer. In 1998, in remission, he returned to television and theatre work. The cancer returned in 2001; Urich died in 2002.

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symbolizes marriages between Jews and non-Jews, especially considering the era when it was produced. In addition to a Hollywood convention that treated anti-Semitism as a cover for racism, the witch characters’ ability to ‘pass’ for mortal more closely mirrors the ‘passing’ issue among American Jews than it mirrors the experience of crossing the color line.”8 Given this observation, that Samantha’s nose served as the focus of her magical ability is not accidental. Addressing intermarriage, assimilation, and cultural difference, Samantha (and the script writers) needed to determine how much of her ethnic identity could be displayed to the public. Elizabeth Montgomery, the shiksa goddess married to the show’s Jewish producer William Asher, was perfectly cast. Her over-the-top mother Endora – so witch; or, so Jewish  – did not fit into suburban Westport, Connecticut or Patterson, New York (the location varied, one of the many inconsistencies of the plot). Her old world values, and clothing, and lack of concern for what others might think, proved embarrassing to suburbia. Despite the cultural view of witches as in league with Satan, that stereotype did not play in the television show. Rather, Samantha turned out to be a friend of Santa Claus, and like other shows then and now, each year saw an annual Christmas special. One such show, “Sisters at Heart,” depicted young Tabitha, wanting to look like her African-American friend Lisa (played by Venetta Rogers), as creating black polka dots for her own face and white ones for Lisa. The episode, first aired on December 24, 1970, won an Emmy in 1971. Tabitha inherited such concerns for ethnic identity and so of passing. Samantha and Darrin Stephens, although not part of their daughter’s television reboot, determined their daughter’s standing. The child of a witch and a mortal, Tabitha is fully a witch. She inherited her mother’s powers, along with her small nose and blond hair. Witch identity apparently carries on the maternal line, as did Jewish identity from at least the early rabbinic period.9 Her younger brother Adam, a cipher although with some magical ability in “Bewitched,” becomes transformed as well as fully fleshed out in the spin-off: this second Adam, now an older brother, is truly an “earth creature” who lacks any magical ability, or blond genes. Adam’s role, like that of his father, is to prevent the woman-witch 8  Jonathan Z. S. Pollack, “Bewitched: An Unorthodox View,” The Ultimate History Project (http://www.ultimatehistoryproject.com/bewitched.html). See also Joy DeLyria, “Bewitched: About that Premise,” The Hooded Utilitarian (June 16, 2011; http://www.hoodedutilitarian. com/2011/06/bewitched-about-that-premise/), who notes the “passing,” but misses the Jewish aspects. 9 Reasons for the shift remain debated: compassion for women raped during the Bar Cochba revolt; adjustments to Roman practice; the role of women’s conversion to Judaism. See Susan Sorek, “Mothers of Israel: Why the Rabbis Adopted a Matrilineal Principle,” Women in Judaism: A Multidisciplinary e-Journal 3.1 (2002): http://wjudaism.library.utoronto.ca/index.php/ wjudaism/article/view/197/175; Shaye J. D. Cohen, “The Origins of the Matrilineal Principle in Rabbinic Law,” AJS Review 10.1 (1985): 19–53, and Idem, The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 263–307.

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from displaying her identity. Both father and son determined witch behavior, and witch identity, to be a social danger. The WASP men had to control their women marked by their odd relatives, peculiar histories, and mysterious noses. The feminist implications of such plot-lines coalesce with the matter of ethnicity: control is essential. Such hiding of religious, ethnic, or racial identity was, however, no longer an issue. Regarding the issue of intermarriage and so of hiding religious / ​ethnic (as opposed to sexual) identity, that problem was addressed by “Bridget Loves Bernie” [1972–1973]. Despite that program’s high ratings, the producers cancelled Bridget and Bernie because of very negative reactions from both Catholic and Jewish viewers. Between “Bewitched”’s last episode and “Tabitha”’s first, the culture had moved on, or back, as television looked back on the (fictional) good old days when everyone got along, and as it presented a world in which neither gender nor race was a particularly threatening category (“Laverne and Shirley” [1976–1983]; “Welcome Back Kotter” [1975–1979]; “What’s Happening” [1976–1979]; “Good Times” (1974–1979]; “One Day at a Time” [1975–1984]; and “The Jeffersons” [1975–1985]). The classic show “All in the Family” [1971–1979] fully rendered Archie’s narrow attitudes towards others as boorish and worthy of laughter. The culture did not need to allegorize ethnic distinction via a witch; ethnic distinction, racially determined, became the subject for discussion, but under the terms of comedy. As for women’s strength, that too had mutated from the domesticated witch to “The Bionic Woman” (1976–78) and “Wonder Woman” (1976–1979). Tabitha couldn’t compete. As the Tabitha of Acts becomes reduced to a paraphrase in the commentary, or a small part of Peter’s larger story, or as a run-up to the conversion of the gentile centurion Cornelius, so the Tabitha of television is at best a footnote to the more famous “Bewitched.” Derivative and repetitive, neither story grabs much attention. Yet the miraculous and magical Tabithas do have stories to tell: their locations, their dual identities, their good works, their supernatural roles, their associates, even their histories as reconstructed, are mutually informative.

II. Now in Joppa … Tabitha the witch moved from the suburbs (New York or Connecticut) to Los Angeles. At that point, the depth of her story is sacrificed. In the 1970s, suburban Connecticut was the major site of spooky doings and gender dystopia. Ira Levin’s 1972 The Stepford Wives (movie 1975), depicts intelligent, accomplished women turned into submissive, unthinking, but beautiful robots. Stepford, a “step” from Stamford, was based on Wilton, CT. In 1973, Thomas Tryon published Harvest Home (movie 1978), in which women rule the paganized Connecticut village of

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Cornwall Coombe; human sacrifice and physical mutilation have their assigned roles. Had Tabitha stayed in the suburbs, her story could have caught the trend of magical women, for better or ill. In Los Angeles, she was generally indistinguishable from millions of other “career girls.” Location matters. New Testament commentaries typically find Tabitha’s home, the city of Joppa (modern Yaffa, originally built as a Jewish satellite of Arab Yaffa; now a satellite of Tel Aviv), as well Lydda, the setting of the companion story of Aeneas, as indicating Peter’s move away from Jerusalem and toward the gentile world. In the New International Critical Commentary, C. K. Barrett offers for 9:32–11:18, “The First Preacher to the Gentiles and the First Gentile Church.”10 In the Anchor Bible commentary, Joseph Fitzmyer labels Acts 9:32–11:18 as “Peter initiates the Mission to the Gentiles.”11 Darrell Bock titles Acts 9:32–12:25 both “The Acts of Peter and Beginnings of Gentile Christianity”12 and “The Gospel to the Gentiles and More Persecution in Jerusalem (9:32–12:25).”13 Luke Timothy Johnson identifies the accounts of Aeneas and Tabitha as serving to “draw Peter from Jerusalem to the coastal city of Joppa, and therefore closer in the reader’s imagination to the wider world of the Gentiles, which boundary will be crossed in the story of Cornelius’s conversion.”14 Ivoni Richter Reimer, citing Martin Hengel, insists not only that “the locale and history of the city of Joppa … plays a vital role in the account” but also that “Joppa represents ‘the boundary of the Jewish region.’”15 Tabitha’s role follows from this understanding of her setting: she is typically classified as one of the bridge characters who, along with the Ethiopian chamberlain, Aeneas the healed paralytic, and Simon the tanner, shifts the mission from its Jewish basis to its gentile goal.16 Doreen Wynter reads the pericope as indicating that “The community in which Dorcas ministered was not homogeneous but rather was racially mixed and her work was not racially exclusive but extended to all.”17 Veronica Lawson neatly summarizes this view: “The Tabitha 10 C. K. Barrett, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on The Acts of the Apostles, Vol. I, (Acts I–XIV), ICC (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1994), 476. 11  Joseph Fitzmyer, Acts, Anchor Bible (New York: Doubleday, 1998), 442. 12 Darrell L. Bock, Acts. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007), 197. 13  Bock, Acts, 374. 14  Johnson, Acts, 179. 15 Ivoni Richter Reimer, “The Miraculous Story of the Disciple Tabitha (9:36–43),” 31–70 in eadem, Women in Acts of the Apostles: A Feminist Liberation Perspective (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), p. 33 and n. 7 (quoting Hengel, “Der Historiker Lukas und die Geographie Palaestinas in der Apostelgeschichte,” Zeitschift des deutschen Palästina-Vereins 99 (1983): 147–83 (171). 16  On Tabitha as representing borders and their crossing, see especially F. Erichson-Wendt, “Tabitha – Leben and der Grenze: Ein Beitrag zum Verständnis von Apg 9, 36–43,” BibNotiz 127 (2005): 67–87. 17  Doreen Wynter, “Dorcas, An Agent of Change and Transformation,” pp. 158–61 in Patricia Sheerattan-Bisnauth (ed.), Righting her-story: Caribbean women encounter the Bible story (Geneva: Word Communion of Reformed Churches, 2011), 159.

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event, situated at the culmination and highpoint of the Judaean phase of Peter’s mission, on the border between Judaea and Samaria, and on the threshold of the inclusion of the Gentiles, is a liminal event in the Lucan schema.”18 Ethnicity and geography, according to the majority of commentaries, are inseparable: Jerusalem represents Judaism, and the farther one moves from the city, the less “Jewish” the setting becomes. The view dismisses or at least underplays the staunch Jewish identity of diaspora communities as well as of the numerous villages of Judea and lower Galilee. Nor is Jerusalem the home only of Jews, as the presence of Roman officials in the city consistently indicates. Joppa, Lydda, and Caesarea are not “gentile” locations; they are part of the Jewish homeland. Whereas Jerusalem is the center of Judaism – much as one might say that Mecca is the center of Islam or Rome the center of Roman Catholicism – Teheran is no “less” Muslim and Fatima is no “less” Roman Catholic. Keener correctly observes, “The most important cities on the coastal plain that were nearly completely Jewish were Lydda and Joppa.”19 There is nothing in Acts 9:31–42 about the gentile mission. The focus, until Peter’s dream and then the conversion of Cornelius, is on “the church throughout Judea, Galilee, and Samaria” (Acts 9:31). Not even Paul, in his Damascus Road experience, learns anything about a gentile mission. Only Ananias hears the detail about Paul: “But the Lord said to him, ‘Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles …’” (Acts 9:15). Whether Ananias mentioned this job description to Paul remains to this point an open question. Paul’s immediate subsequent preaching is entirely to Jews, including Hellenists (who are not less Jewish because of their Greek language or homes). The answer to the question “How Jewish was Joppa?” appears to depend on how commentators view the movement in Acts. Those who are interested in locating Tabitha as on the road to the gentile mission and so seeing her story as minimizing Jewish identity suggest, e. g., “Joppa was a far more Gentile city than Lydda”20 and “Joppa seems to have been a Greek city proper,”21 with 18  Veronica Lawson, “Tabitha of Joppa: Disciple, Prophet and Biblical Prototype for Contemporary Religious Life,” in Rekha M. Chennattu and Mary Coloe (eds.), Transcending Boundaries: Contemporary Readings of the New Testament (Rome: Libreria Ateneo Salesiano, 2005), 288. Dawn Hutchings similarly notes, “In Joppa the followers of the way would encounter a very gentile society where issues about mixing with non-Jews was (sic.) very much an issue” (“The Raising of LOVE: the ‘more-than-literal’ meaning of the Raising of Tabitha – a sermon on Acts 9:36–41” [Posted April 17, 2013; accessed October 13, 2016]; https://pastordawn. com/2013/04/17/the-raising-of-love-the-more-than-literal-meaning-of-the-raising-of-tabithaa-sermon-on-acts-936–41/). 19  Craig Keener, Acts, An Exegetical Commentary, Vol. 2: 3.1–14.28 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013), 1704. 20 Bock, Acts, p. 377, citing C. K. Barrett, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, vol. 1: Preliminary Introduction and Commentary on Acts I–XIV, ICC (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1994), 482. 21 Barret, Acts, 482.

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appeal to Josephus, War 3.56. The citation from Josephus is part of a list of territories associated with Jerusalem (by no means an un-Jewish city), regarding which Josephus states, “it was parted into eleven portions, of which the royal city Jerusalem was the supreme, and presided over all the neighboring country, as the head does over the body” (War 3.54). Thus Joppa appears in the context of a Jerusalem connection. The extended quote (War 3.55–56) reads: “Gophna was the second of those cities [of Judea], and next to that Acrabatta, after them Thamna, and Lydda, and Emmaus, and Pella, and Idumea, and Engaddi, and Herodium, and Jericho; and after them came Jamnia, and Joppa, as presiding over the neighboring people; and besides these there was the region of Gamala, and Gaulanitis, and Batanea, and Trachonitis, which are also parts of the kingdom of Agrippa.” Nothing here suggests a loss of Jewish identity. When Simon Maccabee conquered the city ca. 148 BCE, he expelled the gentile population and repatriated Jews to the area. 1 Macc 14:5 records, “To crown all his honors he [Simon] took Joppa for a harbor, and opened a way to the isles of the sea” and adds, “He also fortified Joppa, which is by the sea, and Gazara, which is on the borders of Azotus, where the enemy formerly lived. He settled Jews there, and provided in those towns whatever was necessary for their restoration” (Ant. 14.34). According to Josephus (War 1.156; Ant. 14.76), Pompey separated it from the province of Judea in 63, but by 47 Rome tucked it back into the province, and it eventually came into Herod’s hands (Ant. 14.202–10). During the First Revolt against Rome, Joppa – unlike Sepphoris – resisted occupation (War 3.414–27). A strategic location, the city was targeted twice by the Romans in the first revolt and destroyed (War 2.507–509). Josephus states, “They took the city with ease; and as the inhabitants had made no provision aforehand for a flight, nor had gotten anything ready for fighting, the soldiers fell upon them, and slew them all, with their families, and then plundered and burnt the city” (War 2.508) the first time; in the second attack (War 3.414–431), “The Romans also took the city without opposition, and utterly destroyed it” (War 3.427). Barrett’s conclusion, “when Peter reached Joppa he was well on his way into a Gentile environment,”22 is thus generous. At the time of Luke’s composition, Joppa had not been rebuilt. The Jewish followers of Jesus are for Luke primarily figures of the past. Richard Pervo proposes, “It is not likely that local Christian traditions from these two cities survived these devastations.”23 Had notice of Joppa’s anti-Roman patriotism been included in such studies, likely New Testament scholars would regard Tabitha and her colleagues as resisting violence and so as sacrificing any concern for Jewish national independence in favor of a universalizing Christian message of peace. But now I am projecting. 22

 Barrett, Acts, 482. I. Pervo, Acts, Heremeneia (Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2008), 252 n. 10.

23 Richard

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Missing in most of these studies is full discussion of Joppa’s earlier roles. Joppa was the major port for Jerusalem (see, e. g., 2 Chron 2:16; Ezra 3:7; 1 Macc 14:5) until Herod’s construction of Caesarea; it is from Joppa that Jonah seeks passage to Tarshish (1:3). On the Classical side, Joppa is the home of Andromeda and the site of her rescue by Perseus, at least according to one version of her myth.24 Numerous sources confirm the connection of the city to the myth, including Josephus (War 3.419–20), who states, “Now Joppa is not naturally a haven, for it ends in a rough shore, where all the rest of it is straight, but the two ends bend towards each other, where there are deep precipices and great stones that jut out into the sea, and where the chains wherewith Andromeda was bound have left their footsteps, which attest to the antiquity of that fable (μύθος).”25 Just as Tabitha the witch had a fabulous, and interesting, history of other witches, from her mother to her grandmother, back to the original “witch” of Endor (1 Sam 28:7), so Joppa has fabulous mythical connections. In the television show, in Acts, and in the majority of Acts commentaries, these connections are ignored, or subverted. Peter’s willingness to come to Joppa does not match up with the story of the reluctant Jonah, at least not quite yet. When the hero Perseus is replaced by the hero Peter, as the doomed but rescued Andromeda is replaced by the dead but revivified Tabitha, nothing of much interest can be determined. Luke does not trade on these connections with Perseus and Andromeda, or even with Jonah, and so the depth of the first Tabitha story becomes lost. Luke does not mark the Tabitha of Acts by any specifically Jewish activities: she does not attend a synagogue, bathe in a miqveh, light a Sabbath lamp, offer a Hebrew prayer to the God of Israel. Thus on the surface she, like Tabitha of television, looks like everyone else. But the context of the story alerts readers that Luke’s Tabitha is a Jew, living in a Jewish area. Tabitha the television character moved to Los Angeles to capture America’s attention; the move was unsuccessful. The setting provided nothing of interest. Joppa, the home of Tabitha, has numerous potential associations, from Greek myths to Jewish wars. Yet Luke evokes none of them. The city, and its Jewish population, serves primarily to move Peter from Lydda and one step closer to Caesarea. Perhaps like the television Tabitha, the Tabitha of Acts was simply “there,” a character Luke could use, to associate Peter with Jesus and to anticipate Paul’s revivifying Eutychus.

24  P. B. Harvey, “The Death of Mythology: The Case of Joppa,” JECS 2 (1994): 1–14, citing Pseudo-Skylax’s Periplus #104. Harvey dates this version of the myth to the late-fifth / ​early-fourth century BCE. Pausanius and Strabo agree with Josephus; Ovid depicts Andromeda and her family as Ethiopian. 25 Other sources listed in Harvey, “Death of Mythology,” 8 n. 28.

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III. Tabitha or Dorcas Luke Timothy Johnson states that “the use of personal names throughout this entire section [Acts 9:31–43] is noteworthy”;26 the question of what to do with this noteworthy item remains open. According to Research.omicsgroup.org (one finds details wherever), “of those born between 1718 and 1745, [Tabitha] ranked about 31st as the most common female given names, about 0.56 % of the population.” However, it gained popularity (#200) again in the US in the 1970s and 1980s, under the influence of “Bewitched.”27 The name Dorcas peaked in popularity in the US in the 1920s. The most famous Dorcas I could locate, outside Acts, is the “Dorcas” played by Julie Newmar in the 1954 Cinemascope “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.” The name Tabitha had, in the 1960s, little antecedent other than Acts 9, which was never (as far as I can tell) adduced in the television show. Possible antecedents include Tabitha Twitchit, the cat in the Beatrix Potter novels (the connection of twitching and the magical nose, along with the association of witches and cats makes this a particularly appealing association), and the connection of Tabitha to the term “tabby” and again the feline association. Then there’s Tobit, the Deuterocanonical hero also known for his good works. Searching for Tabitha’s origins, I found the ironically (and appropriately) named Tabitha Babbit, an eighteenth century New England Shaker who invented the chain saw, but alas, this one is too esoteric. So are the Coptic “virgin [Parthenos] whose name is Tabitha [who] will hear that the shameless one has made his appearance in the holy place” who appears in the Apocalypse of Elijah and Tabithet, the Egyptian goddess, associated with a scorpion and wife of the god Horus.28 All this speculation led to nothing. Elizabeth Montgomery named the character: “‘I love [the name], because it was so old-fashioned,’ she said in 1967. ‘I got it from one of the daughters of Edward Andrews, the actor. The two Andrews girls are named Tabitha and Abigail … But, somehow or other, her name came out ‘Tabatha’ on the credit roll, and that’s the way it’s been ever since. Honestly, I shudder every time I see it. It’s like a squeaky piece of chalk scratching on my nerves.’”29 Tabitha / ​Tabatha serves as a fair warning: not every name, or every variant spelling, need have major symbolic import.

 Johnson, Acts, p. 177.

26

27 http://research.omicsgroup.org / ​index.php / ​Tabitha.

The site lists all the “famous” Tabithas the programmers could find; the list is not long. 28  See David T. M. Frankfurter, “Tabitha in the Apocalypse of Elijah,” JTS n.s. 41.1 (1990): 13–25 and on this the Egyptian goddess, Jean-Marc Rosenstiehl, L’Apocalypse d’Elie (Paris: Paul Geuthner, 1972), 46 (cited in Frankfurter, p. 13). 29  http://mentalfloss.com/article/59789/14-things-you-probably-didnt-know-about-b​e​w​i​ t​c​h​e​d​.

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Generally, commentators see the name of the biblical character as both historically accurate (i. e., there was a woman named Tabitha) and as indicating the movement into the gentile mission. In this configuration, the name Tabitha is Aramaic and so codes as Jewish; Dorcas, the Greek name, codes as gentile. None of these conclusions is secure. Both “Tabitha” and “Dorcas” mean “Gazelle.” The translation may be ironic, given that Tabitha / ​Dorcas – whose primary role is to be a corpse Peter resuscitates – is not among those running the good race. Less likely, although potentially interesting for a gender-critical study, Tabitha’s name echoes Song 2:9; 8:14, where the woman compares her male beloved to a gazelle (ὅμοιός ἐστιν ἀδελφιδός μου τῇ δορκάδι; the Hebrew reads ‫עפר‬, “fawn) as well as to a stag. In Song 4:5; 7:3, the man compares his female beloved’s breasts to “twins of a gazelle.” There is nothing here, by the way, about dietary concerns. Sometimes a gazelle is just a gazelle. Several commentators point out that “Tabitha” was “a name for female slaves in some rabbinic texts (cf. y. Nid. 2.49d; Lev. Rab. 19.4).”30 Why this notice, of texts dating close to half-a-millennium later than Luke, is relevant, is never indicated. The one function this notice appears to have is to suggest that Jews owned slaves. Keener more completely adds that the name applies to rabbinic sages as well.31 According to Rick Strelan, “Tabitha” is not the name of an actual person; the name is metaphoric, and it functions to suggest a proselyte.32 He cites Augustine’s Expositions on the Book of Psalms, which notes that catechumens seeking baptism cited Psalm 42, which mentions a deer seeking living water (the Septuagint speaks of a deer, ἔλαφος, not a gazelle). Finding the gazelle as on the border between kosher and non-kosher food (cf. Deut 12:15, 22–23), he observes that this animal can be eaten for private meals but not prepared as a sacrifice. Later, b. Hull. 17a would declare the gazelle non-kosher. Spanning Jewish literature including Numbers Rabbah and the Zohar, he finds the gazelle a symbol of beauty, compassion, life, and even of the Divine. He concludes, “it certainly need not be assumed that Tabitha was born a Jew, despite the Aramaic name. I suggest she belonged to the class of proselytes and was similar to the God-fearing Cornelius.” On the border, she was, like the gazelle in the dietary laws, “non-consecrated.” Following Strelan, Dawn Hutchings locates gazelles at the border of kosher (cloven-hoof; ruminant) and non-kosher (wild, not domesticated, and thus prohibited from Temple sacrifice) foods. She also notes, “in Joppa the followers of 30  For example, Mikeal C. Parsons, Acts, Paideia Commentaries on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008), 137; Richter Reimer, “Miraculous Story,” 35 and n. 19 (citing Strack-Billerbeck). 31  Keener, Acts, 1715 and n. 7. 32  Rick Strelan, “Tabitha: the Gazelle of Joppa,” Biblical Theology Bulletin (May 1, 2009): 77–86.

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the way would encounter a very gentile society where issues about mixing with non-Jews was very much an issue.”33 Thus the name moves the character and so the reader to the borders of Judaism.34 That Luke’s ideal reader, Theophilus (or gentile followers of Jesus), would follow these clues is dubious. Figures, and especially women, named after animals may, or may not, have symbolic value: “Rachel” means “ewe”; “Deborah” means “bee”; “Jemimah” may mean “dove”; and so on. Just as readers of Genesis gain little insight into Rachel by associating her with a lamb chop, so I doubt Luke’s ideal readers would associate the dead woman with a piece of meat. As for whether Tabitha were a proselyte, Luke has no qualms about mentioning this identification (e. g., Acts 6:5, Nicolaus the proselyte from Antioch), so I see no reason why it would be missing here. Nor does this identification fit any pattern in Acts: a Jewish tanner would have more claim to the identity in question than a proselyte, so if Luke’s point is to move Peter away from Jewish people, Luke has failed to set up a clear case. Whether proselyte or one born Jewish, the biblical Tabitha is, according to Luke’s plot line, fully Jewish. So are all the other figures in Acts 9:36–42. Peter has yet to have his nightmare of the sheet filled with non-kosher animals, and he has yet to convert Cornelius. Were Tabitha a gentile, Peter’s ahistorical comment, “You yourselves know that it is unlawful for a Jew to associate with or to visit a gentile; but God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean” (Acts 10:28) would make even less sense. The doubly named Tabitha / ​Dorcas need not indicate any diminution of Jewish identity, nor does the name Aeneas (see Josephus, War 5.326–28; Ant. 14.248), Alexander, Philip, or, well, Amy-Jill. Nor are all gazelles related. Josephus, speaking of the social breakdown during the First Revolt against Rome, writes of “one John, who was the most bloody minded of them all, to do that execution; this man was also called ‘the son of Dorcas,’ in the language of our country.” This son of Dorcas slaughtered his political rivals, with his pretense being that they were traitors to Jewish nationalism (War 4.145). One could read this “son of Dorcas” in relation to Luke’s Tabitha: he rejected his widowed mother, and her Jesus-following friends, in favor of political revolt. But again, Luke’s audience is unlikely to know this. The Jewish world was a Hellenized Roman world. Even Luke’s narration proves Tabitha’s Jewish (Aramaic) identity. In the narrative Peter addresses the woman as “Tabitha” (9:40), but Luke the narrator refers to her only as “Dorcas” (9:39). It is Luke, then, who translates for his non-Aramaic (and likely ideal non-Jewish reader). Tabitha’s name, although unique in the New Testament,  Hutchings, “Raising of LOVE.”  See e. g., Keener, Acts, p. 1707; Keener refers to Ben Witherington III, The Acts of the Apostles: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 330. 33 34

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is only one consonant off from the Aramaic for “little girl”; in raising Jairus’s daughter, Jesus (in Mark 5:41) commands, “Talitha, cum,” ‘little girl, get up.” Luke – not a fan of Aramaicisms  – does not include the Aramaic in the Third Gospel’s version of her story (Luke 8:41–56). That Tabitha is named at all is remarkable. In the Gospels, figures who are healed or raised are generally not named. Lazarus is the exception. The son of the widow of Nain (Luke 7:11–17), Jairus’s daughter (Matt 9:18–26; Mark 5:22–43; Luke 8:41–56), the child of the royal official (John 4:46–53) all go unnamed. The same is true of Peter’s mother-in-law, any of the people depicted as healed by Jesus from leprosy, the man with the withered hand, the blind men by the roadside, the paralytic in John 5, and the blind man of John 9. Even Bartimaeus son of Timaeus (Mark 10:46) isn’t named; he’s “Timaeus’s boy.” Only in Acts are names occasionally given to healed or raised individuals: Aeneas in Lydda (Acts 9:32–35), Eutychus in Troas (Acts 20:7–12), and Dorcas. The names give verisimilitude to the stories, and they could have symbolic import as well.35 Aeneas, the hero of Virgil’s Aeneid, goes from Roman warrior blessed by the gods to paralytic raised by Peter. Thereby, Peter conquers the Roman Empire. Maybe. Eutychus, whose name means “Good fortune” or more prosaically, “Lucky,” lives up to his name by being raised up by Paul; on the other hand, he does have the misfortune of having to listen to the remainder of Paul’s sermon. The crowd was “not a little comforted,” and the litotes smacks of irony (Acts 20:12). Then again, Luke’s story may rest upon an historical reminiscence, in which Tabitha / ​Dorcas’s name carries no symbolic value, save whatever her parents had in mind. Elizabeth Montgomery’s warning demonstrates that symbolism is often a matter of reader reception rather than authorial intent.

IV. A Disciple … Full of Good Works Samantha’s daughter Tabitha remains in reception history as simply that, an appendage to a famous television show. She will always be “Samantha’s daughter.” The details of her own show – her Aunt Minerva (Karen Black) in the Endora role; her curmudgeonly boss Marvin Decker (Mel Stewart), even Robert Urich as the love interest Paul Thurston – remain for hardcore trivia buffs only. It will be the biblical character, not the television one, whose legacy lives on. In reception history, Tabitha gives her name to numerous charitable organizations founded by or staffed primarily by women. On Sunday, April 17, 2016, 35 See Clare K. Rothschild, “ἐτυμολογία, dramatis personae and the Lukan Invention of an Early Christian Prosopography,” pp. 179–98 in C. K. Rothschild and J. Schröter (eds.), The Rise and Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries C. E., WUNT (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012).

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Rebecca Sheridan preached a sermon on Tabitha at Bethel Lutheran Church of Omaha, in which she noted, “Here in Nebraska, the name Tabitha as one of the first faithful Christian disciples is celebrated with the social service organization Tabitha Elder Care providing hospice care, in-home support, and senior living communities across Nebraska.”36 Dorcas, too, gives her name to institutions as well. While one post on “Urban Dictionary,” likely associating “Dorcas” with “dork,” claims that Dorcas is “Arguably the worst name in the English language,”37 the name, like “Samaritan,” is often attached to church-based work. “Dorcas Ministries” is a New York-based organization seeking “to strengthen and expand the impact of the Gospel of Jesus Christ among Chinese immigrants by lovingly providing services that correspond to the felt needs in that community,”38 the Brooklyn NY-based “Dorcas Medical Mission” that was “established in 2000 to provide medical, surgical, dental and vision care to sick and indigent persons around the globe,”39 the Jamaica NY “Dorcas Society” that provides transitional housing,”40 and so on. The association of “Tabitha” and especially “Dorcas” with ministerial works recovers the ancient woman from her embeddedness in Peter’s story. At the same time, it promotes the vaguely indicated “full of good works” over the more specific connections with widows and clothing. Febbie Dickerson observes, “Readers are inclined to reduce Tabitha’s discipleship to forms of volunteerism. The good works become distinct from anything requiring technical skill or business acumen.”41 Tabitha was “full of good works” (πλήρης ἔργων ἀγαθῶν) and charitable acts (ἐλεημοσυνῶν ὧν ἐποίει). Her description models what 1 Timothy commends: “I desire then, that … likewise the women should adorn themselves in respectable clothing, with modesty and prudence (Ὡσαύτως [καὶ] φυναῖκας ἐν καταστολῇ κοσμίῳ μετὰ αἰδοῦς καὶ σωφροσύνης κοσμεῖν ἑαυτάς), not with elaborate hairstyles, or with gold, pearls, or expensive clothes (ἱματισμῷ πολυτελεῖ), but with good works (δι᾽ ἔργων ἀγαθῶν)…” (1 Tim 2:9–10). The Pastor repeats the concern for good works in 5:9–10 regarding the widow “well attested for her good works … who devoted herself to doing good in every way.” Given the stress on clothing along with good works, Luke’s readers might imagine that Tabitha’s talent with a needle produced the “suitable clothing.” 36  http://bethellutheranomaha.org/2016/04/18/church-of-tabitha-the-sheep-vs-church-ofthe-good-shepherd/. 37 http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Dorcas. 38  http://www.dorcas-nyc.org. 39  http://www.dorcasmedicalmission.org. 40 http://www.transitionalhousing.org/li/the-dorcas-society. 41  Febbie C. Dickerson, “Acts 9:36–43: The Many Faces of Tabitha, A Womanist Reading,” pp. 297–316 in Mitzi J. Smith (ed.), I Found God In Me: A Womanist Biblical Hermeneutic Reader (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2015), 303.

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Tabitha should not, however, be seen as exceptional either because of her good deeds or even because of her identification as a disciple. Whereas she is the only woman in the New Testament explicitly called a “disciple,” she is one of many, as τις ἦν μαθήτρια, “she was a certain [female] disciple,” indicates.42 Nor is it correct to state that her “ministry is a unique one and unprecedented in the Bible: a woman caring for other women in need.”43 Ruth serves as a good precedent. Nor need we claim that the title “exemplifies further discontinuity within the accustomed pattern of things.”44 Luke had not limited the gender of “disciples” (as opposed to “apostles”) to men, and there is no good reason for readers to presume that Mary and Martha, or Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Susanna, were not also “disciples.” Luke’s Tabitha also works for a patriarchalizing agenda. Whereas Robin Gallaher Branch argues that “by silencing [Tabitha], Luke honors her,”45 the silence here has another function. Tabitha takes her place alongside other silenced women: Anna the prophet, Mary the silent disciple by Jesus’ feet, the widow of Nain, even the women who proclaim Jesus’ resurrection, since their words are not recorded but are only reported by the male disciples, the very ones who did not believe their words. Tabitha thus contrasts with rather than simply compares to Cornelius who also was “doing many acts of charity” (ποιῶν ἐλεημοσύνας πολλάς, Acts 10:2): Tabitha was charitable; Cornelius’s charitable acts overshadow hers. Tabitha is silent; Cornelius speaks. In a vision, Jesus tells the centurion, “your prayers and your alms (αἱ ἐλεημοσύναι σου) have ascended as a memorial before God” (Acts 10:4). Peter confirms, “Your alms have been remembered before God” (αἱ ἐλεημοσύναι σου, Acts 10:31). Tabitha becomes the ideal woman: quiet, going about her work, and completely dependent on Peter the Apostle, who merely stops by to raise her before moving on to do more important things (plot-wise), such as converting Cornelius. In reception history, the New Testament’s only named female “disciple” comes to epitomize the very charitable work that epitomizes the discipleship. Her name becomes associated not with Peter’s story, but with her own independent good works. Today, whether the name Tabitha sparks a recognition of the television character, the biblical disciple, or some other figure, will depend on the cultural competencies of each individual. I suspect the day has already  So Parsons, Acts, 138. “Tabitha,” pp. 95–108 in Good Girls, Bad Girls of the New Testament: Their Enduring Lessons (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2016), 102. 44  William H. Willimon, Acts, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox, 1988), 84. 45  Robin Gallaher Branch, “Tabitha in the Bible: A disciple known for doing good,” Bible History Daily (Biblical Archaeological Society 4/17/2016 [http://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/ daily/people-cultures-in-the-bible/people-in-the-bible/tabitha-in-the-bible/]). 42

43 T. J. Wray,

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come when some people, hearing of a social-service agency bearing the name “Tabitha,” will associate health care with magic.

V. Becoming weak, she died (Acts 9:37) In the original “Bewitched,” the character Samantha is centuries old (although she looks terrific). The witch universe is timeless, and no one dies. People on television are, rather, either replaced, cancelled, or resurrected in re-runs and spin-offs. The nosy neighbor Gladys Kravitz, played by Alice Pearce, was recast with Sandra Gould after Pearce died of ovarian cancer. Death matters, and it should not be passed over quickly. Luke’s report of Tabitha, that “becoming weak, she died” (ἀσθενήσασαν αὐτὴν ἀποθανεῖν), lacks details. The same lack accompanies most other revivification stories: no descriptions of symptoms accompany Jairus’s daughter, the son of the widow of Nain, even Lazarus (John 11:1, 2, 3, 6), who had also become weak. For Tabitha, Luke’s focus is rather on the care of her body. The notice that members of the Joppan community (family? friends? the widows? other disciples?) washed the body (λούσαντες …) reminds some commentators of Heb 10:22  – “Let us approach with a true heart and full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water”  – but the connection is tenuous. Rather, the treatment of the corpse is perfectly ordinary. Both Jews and pagans (so Lucian, De luctu 1146) washed corpses. The upper room (ὑπερῷον) where they then placed the body adverts to the “upper room” in 1 Kings 17:19 and 2 Kings 4:10, 21 and so to the two revivifications by Israel’s prophets. It also cleverly anticipates the death and resuscitation of Eutychus, who plunges to his death from a window in what has to be an upper room. Tabitha’s death thus is part of a larger pattern. Claims that the delay in her burial represents “a more Hellenistic Jewish approach”47 (i. e., something that would not be done in Jerusalem or Galilee) find no external support and threaten to reinforce a perceived distancing of the movement from first-century Judaism. Claims that some bodies were kept for three days, given a belief that the soul departs after that time, over-read the text: there is no other “body [that] was kept”48 in the hopes of a revivification. The point may also be, for Acts, practical: graves require digging and tombs require preparation. 46 Cited

by Conzelmann, Acts, 77.  Bock, Acts, 378. 48  Bock, Acts, 378. Bock cites John 11:17, the story of Lazarus, which concerns a body already in the tomb; m. Yeb. 16.3, which concerns the identity of a corpse and not about a corpse preserved in hopes of miraculous healing; Lev Rabbah 18.1, which is about the soul, not the preservation of a corpse by others as is Eccles. Rabbah 12.6. The midrashic texts are late; Acts says nothing about three days. 47

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That no mention is made of Tabitha’s body being anointed, a point often flagged in the commentaries, need not indicate that the followers had planned on Peter’s raising her. There is no mention that Lazarus had been anointed either, nor is there such reference for any of the other revivified corpses, or the non-revivified ones for that matter (e. g., John the Baptist). The anointing has several symbolic values for Jesus (for burial, for a messianic role, for kingship …); the lack says nothing about Tabitha. Upon Tabitha’s death, the (other) disciples, hearing that Peter was near Joppa, send for him. Luke withholds information on what they want him to do: raise Tabitha from the dead? Speak at her funeral? Mourn with them? The plot has only minor suspense, given Peter’s replaying of Jesus’ role as healer. When Peter arrives in Joppa, an anonymous “they” take him to the upper room, and so to the body. No dialogue describes either the messengers’ concern or Peter’s initial response. Filling the gaps, a few commentators rush to adduce a Jewish context, only to dismiss it. A number of studies speak of Peter, if not all of Tabitha’s attendants, as risking “ritual impurity” not only by coming into contact with her corpse, but by being present in the house where the corpse rested. Craig Keener summarizes this approach, “Bringing Peter to the upper room would make him ritually impure even before he takes Tabitha’s hand (9:39). Corpse uncleanness was the severest form of uncleanness, lasting seven days (Num 19:11–13), and in much contemporary Jewish belief it was propagated even by overshadowing.”49 Keener then appeals to Num 19:14, 4Q284, m. Naz. 9.2 (which concerns a Nazirite who comes into contact with corpse matter), m. Eduy. 3.1 (debates concerning what might contaminate the Tent of Meeting), and other texts in noting that “being in the same room with a corpse could make one unclean; indeed, the uncleanness of either upper or lower rooms might contaminate the entire house.”50 Since Peter does not resist entering the home, he must, so the implication goes, be ignoring basic Jewish purity rules. Keener continues, “For purposes of mourning, Jewish people had to incur such uncleanness; nevertheless, for Luke’s purposes, Peter’s involvement here (though he touches her only after raising her, Acts 9:40–41) may foreshadow Peter’s involvement with apparent Gentile impurity in 10:23, 48 (cf. 11:3), though ultimately God declares it not really impure (10:15, 28; 15:9). By crossing such purity barriers to bring restoration, Peter follows Jesus’s example (Luke 5:13; 8:44–48, 51, 54).”51 Thus another Jewish cultural marker is eliminated. Like Adam in the television show, who seeks to marginalize or hide his sister’s identity markers, the new Adams of biblical criticism do the same for Tabitha the disciple. 49 Keener, Acts, 1720, citing (n. 165) m. Kelim 1:4; ʾOhal. 2:1; cf. Luke 10:31–32; b. Bek. 29b; Ber. 19b; and B. Meṣiʿa 114b (n. 165). 50  Keener, Acts, p. 1721. 51 Ibid.

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Absence of evidence (Luke’s lack of reference to corpse impurity) is not evidence of absence (Luke may presuppose it, as may Luke’s audience). Luke also does not note issues of corpse impurity in relation to the dead son of the widow of Nain or any of the people in his funeral procession (Luke 7:11–59), Jairus’s daughter or any of the people in the house with her (Luke 8:49–56), Joseph of Arimathea, who obtains Jesus’ corpse (Luke 23:53), the women who come to the tomb (Luke 24:1–9), or the people who surround the dead Eutychus (Acts 20:9–10). In none of these accounts is the issue the gentile movement; in none of these accounts is the issue of corpse impurity relevant to the story. It is similarly irrelevant regarding all the dead bodies in antecedent stories. One rarely hears that Judith was worried about corpse impurity after striking off Holofernes’s head; the same point holds for Antipas’s court and the beheading of John the Baptist, or the early church and the corpses of Ananias and Sapphira. By entering the house, Peter is doing nothing other than being Jewish. Care for the corpse is among the highest mitzvot, since it must be an altruistic practice. While loving one’s neighbor as oneself might obtain reciprocal love, there is nothing that the corpse is going to do for the family and community members that prepare it or inter it. Washing the body prior to burial, known as tahara (i. e., “purification”) had become a Jewish practice. The Mishnah (m. Shabb. 23.5) offers details: “They prepare all that is needed for a corpse. They anoint and rinse it …” How far back the practice goes cannot be determined; Acts may be the first textual description of the practice of ritual washing as opposed, e. g., to washing off the gore of battle (so Homer’s description of the care for the corpse of Patrocles in Iliad 18.350). Commentators inclined to see Peter as somehow transgressing or even ignoring purity rituals by touching the corpse somehow manage to ignore the washing, which also requires touching. The purity concerns are not a barrier to life. The practice of the purity laws shows that death is taken seriously, as is childbirth (which also creates impurity). One should not attend a birth, or prepare a corpse, and not stop and think about life and death. Peter would have no reason to hesitate entering the home or touching a corpse; he is in Joppa, not the Jerusalem Temple, where purity would be an issue. We have, as far as I am aware, no indications that people hesitated to touch a corpse, or enter a house where a corpse rested, for fear of impurity, despite the common readings of the Priest and Levite in the “Good Samaritan” parable.52 By touching Tabitha, Peter is not in violation of any Jewish law; to read the text as indicating an openness to gentiles is to overstate, again.

52  See, inter alia, Amy-Jill Levine, Short Stories by Jesus: The Enigmatic Parables of a Controversial Rabbi (San Francisco: HarperOne, 2014), 77–116.

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VI. All the Widows … showing tunics and other clothing (Acts 9.39) For “Bewitched” to gain a viewing audience in the 1960s, the stereotypical relationship between witches and Satan needed to be severed; the complicity of numerous Christians in hundreds of thousands of deaths of people accused of witchcraft had to be suppressed, and any coding of Samantha as something less than a typical Christian suburban housewife had to be minimized. For Tabitha / ​ Dorcas to take on their roles in Christian ministry models today requires, I suspect, a minimizing or ignoring of any overt Jewish markers. Tabitha / ​Dorcas codes Christian. Her association with Cornelius aids in this move, as do the commentaries, as we have seen. Supporting the distancing of Tabitha from her Jewish context is the old trope of misogynist Judaism vs. enlightened if not feminist Christianity. Reception history typically finds the widows of Luke 9 as epitomizing the poor, the marginal, and the pathetic. Tabitha is either seen as the champion of the marginalized widow or as a marginalized widow herself, and commentaries then hail her as the champion of the poor and oppressed. William Willimon, surely influencing hundreds of sermons, claims, “Tabitha is busy making a new configuration of power in which God uses what is lowly and despised in the world to bring to nought the things that are.”53 The idea that caring for widows is a new thing – how un-Jewish! – is not a helpful message. That this text goes on to claim that in light of Tabitha’s death, “Now the most vulnerable ones [the widows] have no one,”54 does suggest that the problem is within the church community (i. e., if they only have Tabitha, what were the other Jesus followers doing?), but I’m quibbling again. The view of the widows as united by their poverty has a long scholarly trajectory. Already in the first Hermeneia commentary, Conzelmann states, “The widows do not appear as a social class, but as poor people (cf. 6:1–6).”55 His observation prompts at least three responses. First, the widows in Acts 6, as part of the early church, were among those who gave their funds to the church in the first place. If they were poor, one reason for their poverty was that Peter and his cohort had control over their estates. Second, there is nothing in Acts 9 to indicate the widows’ economic state. We do not know if they were among the poor or among the patrons. Third, at the time Luke was writing, and before, some wealthy widows were patrons of the church. That the widows despair  Willimon, Acts, 84. Acts, 84. Willimon does devote the next several pages (86–91) to the question of “Luke and His Fellow Jews,” sets up Acts as an in-house, inner-Jewish discussion, and warns against anti-Jewish proclamations. 55 Conzelmann, Acts, p. 77. 53

54 Willimon,

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over Tabitha’s death should therefore not be immediately, if at all, linked to their economic condition. Nor should the widows be classified as somehow “marginal,” with Tabitha then the Christian hero who rescues them, although this is the dominant reading. Veronica Lawson claims, “She is a spiritual resource for the marginalized in their daily struggle for survival.”56 Marjorie Lewis adds, “Although her work is not expressly described as ‘ministry’ she mediated God’s presence to poor, outcast widows through her creativity and labour, making garments just for them.” 57 Doug Scalise contextualizes Luke’s narrative, “Especially in the first century, widows tended to be poor, on the bottom rung of the ladder of society, without anyone to represent them or to protect them.”58 Doreen Wynter offers, “The women in the text were living financially challenged lives and Dorcas made clothes and gave to them in their need.”59 Robin Gallaher Branch claims, “Luke indicates that Tabitha took God’s commands about society’s most vulnerable seriously.”60 A sermon preached at Memorial United Methodist Church in White Plains, NY insisted that Tabitha “was a widow, which meant she was of the lowest estate of her society …. Here is something we can learn about the earliest church – widows lived on the margins of the society but at the heart of earliest congregations.”61 That same sermon evoked, in Tabitha’s legacy, day laborers and LGBT individuals. Jon M. Walton summarizes, “If a woman became a widow, she was suspect; in part because misfortune had befallen her in the death of her husband and she might be considered cursed. Any woman without a man, might be considered to be on the make, in search of a husband, and therefore shunned by married women, marginalized and separated from those who had been her friends …. Dorcas we might assume was a kind of free thinker, a person who, in Christ, saw a possibility for ministry and compassion that broke open the old system that was so unjust to women.”62 That “old system” of course has to be Judaism. Luke does not name Tabitha as a widow and does not present the widows surrounding Tabitha as destitute. We know neither Tabitha’s age, economic 56 Lawson,

“Tabitha of Joppa,” p. 292. Lewis, “The Gift of a Garment. A Bible Study on Acts 9.36–43,” pp. 219–220 in Patricia Sheerattan-Bisnauth (ed.), Righting her-story, 219. 58  Doug Scalise, “Acts 9:36–43, Stepping Out in Faith: Tabitha and Peter,” Brewster Baptist Church June 29, 2014; Accessed 9–16–2014, http://www.brewsterbaptistchurch.org/stepping​ faith-tabitha-peter/. 59  Wynter, “Dorcas, An Agent of Change and Transformation,” 161. 60 Robin Gallaher Branch, “Tabitha in the Bible: A disciple known for doing good,” Bible History Daily (Biblical Archaeological Society 4/17/2016 [http://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/ daily/people-cultures-in-the-bible/people-in-the-bible/tabitha-in-the-bible/]. 61 Rev. Joe Agne, “Get up, Tabitha, and claim your place at the center” at http://www. mindny.org/resources/sermons/agne-042510/. 62  Jon M. Walton, “The Worth of a Few Sweaters,” Sermon preached on April 21, 2013 (http://www.fpcnyc.org/media/sermons-pdf/2013/130421.pdf). 57 Marjorie

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circumstances, marital status, or actual relation to the widows – patron, friend, relative? She could be wealthy, as Bock claims, “Almsgiving was highly regarded in Judaism (Tob. 1:3, 16; 3:2; 4:7–8; Sir. 7:10). The detail suggests that she is wealthy and generous.”63 The detail, rather, only suggests that she is a righteous person. One need not be wealthy in order to be generous. We do not know what the widows’ relationship to Tabitha was either, save that they mourned her. Luke simply states, “All the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them” (Acts 9:39). The standard interpretation is that Tabitha provided clothing for the widows, and indeed that her clothing them was her sign of charity. Daniel Belknap states, for example, “Tabitha’s acts of making and giving clothing to the widows represents her care and love for them; the clothing became tangible symbols of her recognition of the Joppan widows, letting them know that they were not forgotten or abandoned.”64 Similarly, Mikeal Parsons reads Tabitha as indicating “another ‘exegesis by example’ of one who ‘out of her poverty put in all the living she had’ (Luke 21:4),” in reference to the widow who puts her coins into the Temple treasury.65 Dorcas may have made clothing for the widows, an inference Codex Beza (D) makes explicit. The middle participle usually translated “show” or “display” could indicate that the widows were wearing the garments. Alternatively, she could have “employed indigent widows in a house-based clothing factory.”66 She may even have been the one who provided elegant garments for rich widows (to lose a good seamstress or tailor is a tragedy even today for the very wealthy). The most we know is that Tabitha worked with textiles. Luke’s numerous depictions of “women of the cloth,” to use Scott Spencer’s well-taken description,67 grants Tabitha close associations with Lydia the “dealer in purple cloth” (πορφυρόπολις, Acts 16:14) and, more distantly, with Priscilla and Aquila, “leather-workers” (σκηνοποιλὶ τῇ τέχνῃ, Acts 18:3). The purpose of this connection remains under discussion. Daniel Belnap, adducing materials from Ancient Near Eastern texts and Mormon Scripture, relates “the fall of Adam and Eve, the veil of the tabernacle described in Exodus, or the atonement of Christ … to the narrative of Tabitha by the symbolic nature of clothing and its attendant rite, investiture.”68 The simpler explanation is that there were real 63 Bock,

Acts, p. 377.  Daniel Belnap, “Clothed with Salvation: The Garden, the Veil, Tabitha, and Christ,” Studies in the Bible and Antiquity 4 (2012): 43–69 (68). 65 Parsons, Acts, 139. 66  Suggested by doubted by Pervo, Acts, p. 256 n. 49; see also Barrett, Acts, p. 485 on her “workshop.” 67 Scott F. Spencer, Women of ‘the Cloth’ in Acts: Sewing the Word,” pp. 135–54 in AmyJill Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff (eds.), A Feminist Companion to Acts, FCNTECW 6, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic / ​Bloomsbury: T & T Clark, 2004). 68 Belnap, “Clothed with Salvation,” 43. 64

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women, named Tabitha, Lydia, and Priscilla, who worked in textiles or leather; Priscilla’s historicity is not in doubt, given Paul’s references to her. Whether the textile references have symbolic value is less easily adduced. Textile working could indicate women of some means, albeit not among the leisured wealthy. The connection between Tabitha and Simon the Tanner, the fellow resident of Joppa with whom Peter will take lodging, offers another possibility: Peter moves from the relatively pristine work of sewing and perhaps dyeing to the messier and smellier work of tanning. Luke does not explain why Peter moves locations in Joppa, or why Peter does not return to Lydda. The symbolic import of Tabitha and her garments remains unexplained as well. As Marinella Perroni notes, “It is difficult to determine whether these widows made garments as a charitable activity or whether the work provided them support. It is unquestionable, though, that the group is not shown to be the object of pity or compassion, contrary to what is commonly held. Rather, it is presented as the core of the Joppa community …. We might argue that the widows were not always socially weak entities committed to the care of the community; in some cases they played an active role in charitable and hosting activities. First Timothy 5:10 – whose wording shows marked similarities to Tabitha’s story – supports these conclusions.”69 Supporting these arguments against Tabitha as a poor widow is also Luke 8:1–3, in which women serve as patrons of the Jesus movement. Reta Halteman Finger states, “There is no evidence that these widows were objects of charity, for the text does not say that Tabitha make the clothes for the widows … It is more likely that Tabitha employed these women to work in the shop in her home as a way of helping them support themselves ….”70 However, the text does not say that the women themselves worked in textiles. In Luke’s narrative context, the widows may be objects of pity; in the broader context of the New Testament, they may be economically independent women who appreciated quality garments. Despite numerous claims that the widows are simply unfortunate women whose husbands have died – so Barrett, “They are not an order; they are not said to perform any service for the church; they are rather its beneficiaries”71 – Luke’s depiction may hint at an order of some sort. Pervo writes, “The story belongs to the world of the Apostolic Fathers and the Pastorals and would be at home in the Apocryphal Acts. It is difficult to imagine a date much earlier than 100 CE for 9:36–42 in its present shape.”72 His claim that “the widows” (vss. 69  Marinella Peronni, “Disciples, Not Apostles,” pp. 173–214 in Mercedes Navarro Puerto and Marinella Peronni (eds), Amy-Jill Levine (ed., English translation), Gospels, Narrative and History, The Bible and Women: An Encyclopedia of Exegesis and Cultural History (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 2015), 201. 70 Reta Haltemann Finger, Of Widows and Meals: Communal Meals in the Book of Acts (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 260. 71  Barrett, Acts, 478. 72 Pervo, Acts, 254.

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39, 41) matches “the saints”73 and so that each designates a separate group finds additional support in the designation of Tabitha as a “disciple”; the pericope is replete with group identity-markers. Reception history has made the widows dependent on Tabitha, determined that widows are marginal, and then concluded that Christianity brings the marginal to the center. The text itself need not produce these readings. Indeed, by consigning the widows to the margins, it is the reader, not the text, that creates the social problem.

VII. Tabitha, Get Up The television show “Tabitha” draws on several supporting characters from “Bewitched,” but Darrin and Samantha never appear. Thus the television show raises questions about family. It also raises questions about age. The child of Samantha and Darrin would be about 11 if the chronology of the spin-off were correct, but Lisa Hartman and so her character was in her early twenties. The association with Acts 9 thus prompts questions about the original Tabitha’s age and family; in turn, these questions move us to the connections among Acts 9, Mark 5, and Luke 12. The resonance of “Tabitha” (Ταβιθά, Acts 9:40) to “Talitha” (Ταλιθα, Mark 5:41) and the command “arise” (ἀνάστηθι, Acts 9:40) link the Acts account to the raising of the “little girl” (παιδίον; κορἀσιον) in Mark 5 and, without the Aramaic, to Luke 8:41–56. Both stories show a summons for aid; in both the main character casts out the crowds (αὐτὸς δὲ ἐκβαλὼν πάντας, Mark 5:40; ἐκβαλὼν δὲ ἔξω πάντας, Acts 9:40); Peter “gave her [Tabitha] his hand” (δοὺς δὲ αὐτῃ χεῖρα, Acts 9:40), and Jesus “grasped the hands of the child” (κρατήσας τῆς χειρὸς τοῦ παιδίου, Mark 5:41); both depict a female person raised from the dead. In both stories, the revivified person demonstrates the hero’s power, and then her story is ended. Whether the connections are coincidental remains a matter of discussion.74 The scene does more than place Peter in Jesus’ role and so underline his authority. The association of Tabitha with the dead child also forces questions. Unlike the unnamed daughter of Jairus, Tabitha is named, twice. For the Gospels, the focus is on the named synagogue ruler Jairus (Mark 5:22; Luke 8:41) who displays faith in Jesus. Unlike Jairus’s daughter, Tabitha, is accorded no immediate relatives. She is no one’s “daughter” or “mother” or “wife.” Instead

73  Ibid, n. 27. See also Lawson, “Tabitha of Joppa,” 291, who appeals to the use of the definite article preceded by the adjective “all” in vs. 39. Peronni, “Disciples, Not Apostles,” 201, proposes that “saints” indicates an anterior source, since the term is not part of Luke’s vocabulary. 74  Barrett, Acts, 485, with details; Barrett concludes, “The case for pure coincidence is by far the stronger.”

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of immediate family she is mourned in particular by a group of widows. The biological family and the synagogue are replaced with fictive kinship and a home. Comparisons continue with other resuscitation stories: the son of the widow of Zarepath, the son of the Great Woman of Shunem, Lazarus the brother of Mary and Martha, the son of the widow of Nain, and poor Eutychus (Acts 20:7– 12). All the resuscitations are of children or at least (as far as we know) of unmarried and therefore young individuals, including Lazarus. Unlike the famous resuscitation of Alcestis, the nearly successful rescue of Eurydice by Orpheus, and the story of the raising of the bride by Apollonius of Tyana, the Hebrew and Christian texts do not signal the move of bride to wife or groom to father. In the canonical stories, no marriages are temporarily or permanently delayed. Children are returned to their parents, a brother to his sisters (perhaps older?), or in Eutychus’s (likely) case, the slave to the masters. Regarding Tabitha, we cannot then determine if she is a widow, virgin, single, wife, or divorced.75 However, unless she is the outlier, she too would be a young, unmarried woman. If she is a widow, she may have been a young widow (cf. 1 Tim 4:11–14). She may be Luke’s ideal convert: the single young woman of independent means who supports her church-based fictive kinship group. A final note on Tabitha’s marital and sexual status: the comparison of Tabitha with other women, and with widows, prompts such questions. However, the questions themselves represent a gendered approach. Dickerson correctly observes, “Remarkably, although the story of Tabitha is paired with that of Aeneas (Acts 9:32–35) whom Peter also raises, no one speculates as to whether he is a widower.”76

VIII. The Remake of the Remake of the Remake …. And Form Criticism “Tabitha” was a spin-off of “Bewitched.” It was also a remake of an earlier pilot, called “Tabatha,” that starred Liberty (Louise) Williams and in which Adam was a fully empowered warlock. One begins to see variations in names. “Tabitha” itself was preceded by a 1973 Saturday morning cartoon, entitled, “Tabitha and Adam and the Clown Family,” in which the children of Samantha and Darrin join the circus. Mercifully, this show lasted for one episode. Following the cancellation of “Tabitha” came a coven of other witches, each with issues about the practice of magic in regular society; these include the (equally uninteresting) prime-time reboot of the soap opera “Dark Shadows,” whose resident witch, Angelique, also traverses the centuries, “Sabrina the Teenage Witch” (a spin-off  Pervo, Acts p. 255; Reimer, “Miraculous Story,” 35. “Acts 9:36–43,” 308.

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of the “Archie” comic series; entirely wholesome), “American Horror Story: Coven” (a spin-off of “American Horror Story”; unwholesome), “Charmed,” “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (Willow the witch); the Hollywood movie “Bewitched” with Nicole Kidman as Isabel playing Samantha, Will Ferrell as Jack Wyatt playing Darrin, and Shirley MacLaine as Iris Smythson playing Endora (the IMDb rating of 4.8 is generous; with Nora Ephron as the writer, one might have hoped for better). Nor was “Bewitched” original. It follows from John Van Druten’s stage play “Bell Book and Candle,” adapted for a 1958 film with Kim Novak and James Stewart, the 1942 “I Married a Witch” with Veronica Lake and Frederick March, itself based on Thorne Smith’s unfinished The Passionate Witch (1941). The list of connections continues, such that no original story can be found. Tabitha of Acts suffers the same tradition history. As Richard Pervo states, “It appears at least equally likely that both the story of Eutychus and the story of Tabitha are Lucan creations aimed at achieving the goal of parallelism.”77 Even James Dunn, who regards the two healings of Acts 9 as resting on historical memory, admits that “the details of the raising of Tabitha by Peter may, however, be a little more contrived.”78 The story is form-critically consistent with other biblical resuscitations, such that it could be seen as a pastiche of motifs readily available: agents of God who raise people from the dead (Elijah [1 Kings 17:17–24], Elisha [2 Kings 4:32–37]), an upper room where a corpse awaits the miracle worker (1 Kings 17 again), the connections with Mark 5. Luke’s frequent pairing of male and female characters finds another example with Aeneas the paralyzed man (Acts 9:32–35) and Tabitha the dead woman, both confined (as it were) to a bed and both “raised” (ἀνάστηθι, Acts 9:34, 40) by Peter’s command.79 Peter’s command to “get up and make your bed” (cf. “take up your bed and walk”; Matt 9:6; Mark 2:9–11; Luke 5:24; John 5:8–10), and the conversion, because of the miracle, of the locals in Lydda and Sharon, are stock in trade. The Tabitha of the television show appeared to be the ideal conventional young woman: beautiful, blond and blue eyed, talented, with interesting friends, and one particular ability that set her apart. The Tabitha of Acts is Luke’s ideal woman: single, in the textile business, charitable, silent, beloved by her community, and entirely dependent on Peter for her life. The television witch is a 77  Richard I Pervo, The Mystery of Acts: Unraveling its Story (Santa Rosa, CA: Polebridge, 2008), 86. 78  James D. G. Dunn, The Acts of the Apostles. Narrative Commentaries (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1996), 129. 79 See, however, Caroline Vander Stichele, “Gender and Genre: Acts In / ​Of Interpretation,” in Todd Penner and Caroline Vander Stichele (eds.), Contextualizing Acts: Lukan Narrative and Greco-Roman Discourse, SBLSymSeries 20 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 2003), 311–29, who locates Tabitha outside of a gendered pair (313).

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fictional character; the Joppan disciple may have been a real person, but the very conventionality of her story coupled with its perfect matching of Lucan themes, makes any historical claim suspect. There was no actual Tabitha, daughter of Samantha and Darrin Stephens; there may well have been no original Tabitha, revivified patron of a group of Jesus followers in Joppa. But their memories remain. And as new associations with their names appear, their stories will continue. Whatever “new” readings may come will substantially depend on the ability of biblical readers to move outside the biblical text, whether by adducing Classical, Patristic or Rabbinic associations (e. g., Frankfurter, Harvey, Strelan), asking new questions guided by new reading strategies (e. g., Capel Anderson, Richter Reimer, Dickerson, Lawson), exploring contemporary accounts of revivification (e. g., Keener), or looking at other texts. Tabitha’s story is not done yet.80

80 In

2014, news of a reboot of “Bewitched” circulated in Hollywood. Who knew?

The Son of Man in Acts 7:56 and His Origin in the Lost Gospel Dennis R. MacDonald I. Introduction The title ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνϑρώπου appears only once in the Acts of the Apostles; the following is Pervo’s translation of 7:55–56: “Stephen … was brimming with inspiration. He gazed upward and saw the nimbus of divinity and Jesus standing to God’s right. ‘I see heaven revealed,’ he proclaimed. ‘The Son of Man is standing at the right side of God.’” This is the only instance of Son of Man as a title for Jesus in Acts, and only here in the entire New Testament does “the Son of the Man” appear as an utterance from someone other than Jesus.1 As Pervo notes, Luke himself was responsible for this innovation as part of his strategy to depict Stephen’s martyrdom as an imitation of Jesus’, inspired no doubt by Mark 14:62 (cf. Luke 22:69).2 Eight times elsewhere the Evangelist inherited the title from Mark (5:24, 9:22, 26, and 44, 18:31, 21:27 and 36, and 22:22). Thirteen times, however, Luke borrowed it from passages attributable to the lost Gospel, conventionally designated “Q” (6:5 and 22, 7:34, 9:44 and 58, 11:30, 12:8, 10, and 40, and 17:22, 24, 26, and 30). Luke himself contributes only three more examples: 18:8, 22:48, and 24:7. Later this study will return to the Son of Man in Acts 7:56, after an investigation of the origin of the title, one of the most contentious topics in New Testament scholarship, carefully traced by Mogens Müller.3 This study builds on Müller’s sage conclusion that “The interpretation of the Son of Man in the New Testament is in freefall until it is recognized that the expression does not have any

1 “Son of Man” without the articles (υἱὸς ἀνϑρώπου) appears in Heb 2:6 and Rev 1:13 and 14:14. 2  Acts: A Commentary, ed. Harold W. Attridge; Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008), 195. Pervo’s attribution of both verses to Lukan redaction agrees with that of M. Sabbe, “The Son of Man Saying in Acts 7,56,” in Les Actes des Apôtres: Traditions, rédaction, théologie, ed. J. Kremer, BETL 48 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1979), 241–79. 3 See Mogens Müller’s The Expression “Son of Man” and the Development of Christology: A History of Interpretation, Copenhagen International Seminar (Sheffield: Equinox, 2008). Also useful is Delbert Burkett’s The Son of Man Debate: A History and Evaluation, SNTSMS 107 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999).

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special meaning before it receives it through its concrete context in the respective Gospels.”4 He thus begins his assessment with Mark, widely acknowledged as the earliest surviving Gospel. Although eventually he provides a brief discussion of the Son of Man in the lost Gospel or “Q” (402–407), he considers it “a highly hypothetical source” and thus avoids locating the origin of the title there, even though, as we shall see, this is where it all began.

II. The Son of Man in Q-Mark Overlap Texts Advocates of the Griesbach (or Two Gospel) Hypothesis and the Farrer Hypothesis (or Markan Priority without Q) fervently deny Q’s existence. For these interpreters, looking for the Son of Man there is a Fool’s Errand. Most scholars, however, accept the Two-Document Hypothesis (2DH) and assume that the Markan Evangelist, who used ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνϑρώπου fourteen times, was unaware of the lost Gospel; he must have known it independently. If so, the title existed independently of Q. Many scholars, however, have argued both for the existence of Q and Mark’s knowledge of it (the Modified Two-Document Hypothesis), which allows for the possibility that the Markan Evangelist inherited the expression Son of Man from the lost Gospel and exploited it for his own purposes.5 Five of the instances of the title Son of Man widely attributed to Q have parallels in Mark.

 Expression “Son of Man,” 419. of the M2DH include John Pairman Brown, “Mark as Witness to an Edited Form of Q,” JBL 80 (1961): 29–44; Jan Lambrecht, “Die Logia-Quellen von Markus 13,” Bib 47 (1966): 321–60; idem, Die Redaktion der Markus-Apokalypse: Literarische Analyse und Strukturuntersuchung, AB 28 (Rome: Papstliches Bibelinstitut, 1967); idem, “Q-Influence on Mark 8,34–9,1,” in Logia: Les Paroles des Jésus, ed. Joel Delobel, BETL 59 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1982), 277–304; idem, “John the Baptist and Jesus in Mark 1.1–15: Markan Redaction of Q?” NTS 38 (1992): 357–84, and idem, “A Note on Mark 8:38 and Q 12.8–9,” JSNT 85 (2002): 117–25; E. P. Sanders, “The Overlaps of Mark and Q and the Synoptic Problem,” NTS 19 (1972–1973): 453–65; Wolfgang Schenk, “Der Einfluss der Logienquelle auf das Markusevangelium,” ZNW 70 (1979): 141–65; Walter Schmithals, Einleitung in die drei ersten Evangelien (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1985), who argues that Mark and Matthew redacted a later, edited version of Q; Burton Mack, “Q and the Gospel of Mark: Revisiting Christian Origins,” Semeia 55 (1992): 15–39; and David R. Catchpole, The Quest for Q (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1993). The most comprehensive articulations of M2DH are those by Harry T. Fleddermann, Mark and Q: A Study of the Overlap Texts. With an Assessment by F. Neirynck, BETL 122 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1995) and idem, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary, BTSt 1 (Leuven: Peeters, 2005). 4

5 Proponents

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Mark

11:30. The Son of Man as a sign 12:8–9. Confessing or denying 12:10. Speaking against the Holy Spirit 12:40. The Son of Man comes as a robber 17:24. The Son of Man like lightning

8:12 8:38 3:28–29 13:35 13:21

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In each case the saying in the lost Gospel appears to be more primitive than its Markan equivalent.7 In Two Shipwrecked Gospels I proposed an alternative solution to the Synoptic Problem, yet another mutation of the Two-Document Hypothesis. The Q+ / ​Papias Hypothesis (Q+ / ​PapH) argues, among other things, that all three Synoptic Evangelists knew and redacted the same lost Gospel. It also attempts to reconstruct the text by applying an alternative set of criteria to Mark, Matthew, and Luke. The consequent reconstruction is twice as long as others and rearranges the sequence of logia. One significant implication of Mark’s knowledge of the lost Gospel – which I call by its more likely original title, The Logoi of Jesus – is that the Evangelist need not have known of the expression Son of Man independently; rather, he could have inherited it from Logoi. The present study thus holds that the quest for the origin of ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνϑρώπου must begin with the lost Gospel, its earliest textual manifestation. Its final appearance in the Synoptic tradition is Acts 7:56. In some respects this quest for the genesis of Son of Man is as old as research on Q itself. A pioneer in this research, Heinz Edward Tödt, went so far as to assert that “Son of Man Christology and Q belong together both in their concepts and in their history of tradition.”8 Some Q scholars have attributed the expression to Jesus, either about himself or someone else.9 Others viewed it as 6 The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke and Thomas with English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas, eds. James M. Robinson, Paul Hoffmann, and John S. Kloppenborg, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000). The chapter-verse numbers for Q are identical to the parallels in Luke, unless only Matthew retains the logion. 7  See MacDonald, Two Shipwrecked Gospels: The Logoi of Jesus and Papias’s Exposition of Logia about the Lord, SBLECL 8 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012), 105–106, 110–11, and 114–15. 8  The Son of Man in the Synoptic Tradition, trans. Dorothea M. Barton (London: SCM, 1965), 269; originally Der Menschensohn in der synoptischen Überlieferung (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1959). 9 E. g., Paul Hoffmann, who argued that Jesus used the title for an eschatological savior but not of himself (Studien zur Theologie der Logienquelle, NTAbh ns 8 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1972), 81–233 and idem, “The Redaction of Q and the Son of Man: A Preliminary Sketch,” in The Gospel behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q, ed. Ronald A. Piper, NovTSup 75 (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 159–98. The latter was originally published as “QR und der Menschensohn: Eine vorläufige Skizze,” in idem, Tradition und Situation: Studien zur Jesusüberlieferung in der Logienquelle und den synoptischen Evangelien (Münster: Aschendorff, 1995), 243–78.

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a primitive post-Easter Christology that informed Q’s author.10 Still others have located its origin in an early redactional stratum of Q.11 This much is clear: the earliest literary references to Jesus as the Son of Man appear in sayings of Jesus often attributed to a lost Gospel, whether or not Mark redacted it.12

III. The Son of Man in the Lost Gospel (the Logoi of Jesus) The methodology applied in the present study is simple and straightforward: it presents every logion in my reconstruction of the Logoi of Jesus germane to Jesus as the Son of God or the Son of Man, assesses how ancient readers most likely would have understood ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνϑρώπου in each instance, and monitors how that understanding would have grown until the reader finished the book, which ended with a Son of Man saying.13 I assume that Logoi’s readers’ only two aids for understanding the meaning of the expression were (1) familiarity with the Greek Bible (LXX / ​OG), and (2) the progression of information about Jesus as

Other scholars defending that position include Foakes J. F. Jackson and Kirsopp Lake, The Beginnings of Christianity; Part 1, The Acts of the Apostles. Prolegomena I: The Jewish and Christian Backgrounds (London: Macmillan, 1920), 368–84 and Rudolf Bultmann, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, FRLANT 19 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1921), 127, 130, and 163; ET: The History of the Synoptic Tradition, trans. John Marsh (New York: Harper & Row, 1963). 10  E. g., Adela Yarbro Collins, “the Son of Man sayings are among the most primitive of post-Easter formulations” and informed the compositional of Q at each stage of redaction (“The Son of Man in the Sayings Source,” in To Touch the Text: Biblical and Related Studies in Honor of Joseph A. Fitzmyer, S. J., ed. Maurya P. Horgan and Paul J. Kobelski (New York: Crossroad, 1989), 389. 11  E. g., Heinz Schürmann proposed that the title did not derive from Jesus or tradition but from an earlier redaction of Q as an interpretive addition to otherwise traditional sayings (“Observations on the Son of Man Title in the Speech Source: Its Occurrence in Closing and Introductory Expressions,” in The Shape of Q, ed. John S. Kloppenborg (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994), 74–97, esp. 90–91; originally published as “Beobachtungen zum Menschensohn-Titel in der Redequelle: Sein Vorkommen in Abschluß-und Einleitungswendungen,” in Jesus und der Menschensohn, ed. Rudolf Pesch and Rudolf Schnackenburg (Freiburg: Herder & Herder, 1975), 124–47. 12  I thus find it astonishing that a recent book on the origin of the Son of Man ignores Q, as illustrated by its absence in its extensive indexes (“Who Is this Son of Man?” The Latest Scholarship on a Puzzling Expression of the Historical Jesus, ed. Larry W. Hurtado and Paul L. Owen, LNTS 390 (London: T & T Clark, 2011). 13 This approach resembles that of Arto Järvinen, who employed narrative criticism to Q logia containing the Son of Man in their Lukan sequence (“The Son of Man and His Followers: A Q Portrait of Jesus,” in Characterization in the Gospels, ed. David M. Rhoads and Kari Syreeni, JSNTSup 184 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 180–222. He concluded that the final redactor of the lost Gospel developed the characterization of the Son of Man to offer consolation to his embattled readers that one day their suffering would find vindication, as Jesus’ did. With this I would heartily concur.

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the Son of God and the Son of Man in a linear reading of the document from beginning to end. Most passages pertinent to this assessment appear both in the tentative reconstruction in the Critical Edition of Q and the Logoi of Jesus, though my reconstruction contains a few others, which I will discuss in the notes.14 In other words, one need not prefer my textual reconstruction to agree with my attribution of Son of Man to the lost Gospel. Two Shipwrecked Gospels, however, argues for the rearrangement of two pericopae that bear on one’s understanding of Jesus as the Son of God and the Son of Man, as we shall see.

IV. The Adopted Son of God Most reconstructions of the lost Gospel, including mine, begin with the preaching of John the Baptist and his prediction of one to come who would be stronger than he. The reader need not wait long to learn the identity of “the one to come”; she learns it at Jesus’ baptism. Two Shipwrecked Gospels argued that the model for Jesus’ baptism was the opening chapters of Ezekiel, in which God addresses the prophet three times as a son of a man.15 “The chapter-verse numbers for the lost Gospel appear twice: the first indicates my numbering of the Logoi of Jesus, the second the conventional numbering of Q (see note 14 on the chapter-verse numbers in Q).” Ezek 1:1, 3, 28b, 2:1–3a

Logoi 2:1–3 and 3:1 (= Q 3:21–22 and 4:1 and 16)

And it so happened in the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, on the fifth of the month, and I was in the midst of the captivity at the river Chorab,

And it so happened in those days

[cf. 1:5 [= Q 3:3]: “in the Jordan River”] that Jesus came from Galilee and was baptized. and the skies were opened, and I saw And the skies were opened, 2 and he saw the visions of God… . 3b The hand of the Spirit descending Lord came upon me… . 28b And I saw, fell upon him. on my face, and heard a voice speaking. 2:1 And it said And a voice came from the skies, to me, “Son of man [ὑιὲ ἀνθρώπου], stand “You are my beloved Son [ὁ ὑιός μου].” on your feet, and I will speak to you.” 2 And the Spirit came upon me, lifted me 3 And Jesus was led up into the wilderness by up, raised me, and stood me on my feet, the Spirit… 14  Logoi 3:2–6 (4:16, 4:22, [M] 13:57, 4:24, 31; rejection at Nazara), 3:25–29 (6:1–5; gleaning on the Sabbath), and 10:1–7 (8:1, 9:1–2, [M] 10:5, 7:6, 10:6, 23; do not go to the Gentiles). The numbers in parenthesis identify verses by their location in Luke (xx:xx) or Matthew ([M] xx:xx). The translations that follow render my reconstruction. 15 For my reconstruction of Jesus’ baptism, see Two Shipwrecked Gospels, 120–24.

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Logoi 2:1–3 and 3:1 (= Q 3:21–22 and 4:1 and 16)

and I heard him speaking to me. 3 And he said to me, “Son of man [ὑιὲ ἀνθρώπου], I am sending you 3:1 to the house of Israel, to those who Jesus went to Galilee and preached, “Reprovoke me.” pent! The kingdom of God has arrived.”

Note the following similarities: 1. Both stories begin with “it so happened” and a time reference (καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν τῷ … ἔτει / κ​ αὶ ἐγένετο ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις). 2. In both the chosen representative is at a river (the Chorab or the Jordan). 3. In both the skies open, and the chosen one sees a vision (καὶ ἠνοίχθησαν οἱ οὐρανοὶ καὶ εἶδον / κ​ αὶ ἠνεῴχθησαν οἱ οὐρανοὶ καὶ εἶδεν). 4. In both a heavenly φωνή speaks. 5. In both the chosen one is addressed as a son: either ὑιὲ ἀνθρώπου or ὁ ὑιός μου. 6. In both the divine Spirit comes upon the chosen one (ἐπ᾿ ἐμὲ πνεῦμα / τ​ ὸ πνεῦμα … ἐπ᾿ αὐτόν) and physically directs him. 7. In both the empowered one begins preaching a message of repentance. This density of similarities surely is not accidental, and a reader aware of them may have seen Jesus as a prophet like Ezekiel, though instead of being “a son of a man” Jesus is the Son of the God. To be sure, not all readers of the lost Gospel could have recognized the parallels to Ezek 1–2, but they likely would have recognized in Jesus’ baptism echoes of call narratives of biblical prophets. Twice in the temptation story that immediately follows the baptism, the devil baits Jesus to claim the prerogatives due him as the Son of God (= Q 4:3–4, 9–12, and 5–8). 2:5 And the devil told him, “If you are God’s Son [ὑιὸς … τοῦ θεοῦ], order that these stones become loaves.” 2:6 And Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘A person will not live only from bread.’” 2:7 And the devil took him along to Jerusalem and put him on the tip of the temple and told him, “If you are God’s Son [ὑιὸς … τοῦ θεοῦ], throw yourself down. 2:8 For it is written, ‘He will command his angels about you to guard you;’ 2:9 and that ‘on their hands they will bear you, so that you do not strike your foot against a stone.’” 2:10 And Jesus in reply told him, “It is written, ‘Do not put to the test the Lord your God.’”

In the third temptation, the devil offers him dominion over the world in exchange for obeisance:

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And the devil took him along to a high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world, and told him, “I will give you all this authority and their glory, if you bow down before me.” And in reply Jesus told him, “It is written, ‘Bow down to the Lord your God and serve only him.’”

This promise of authority over the kingdoms of the world echoes the vision of the Son of Man in Dan 7:13–14: I was watching during a night vision, and behold someone like a son of man was coming with the clouds of heaven, until he arrived at the Ancient of Days. … And authority was given to him, and all the peoples of the earth, tribe by tribe, and every glory will serve him. And his authority was an eternal authority, which would not be snatched away, and his kingdom would not be destroyed.”

This passage is seminal for understanding the use of Son of Man in the last half of the lost Gospel.

V. The Rejected Son of Man The episode that immediately follows the temptations in CEQ is the Inaugural Sermon, but this reconstruction creates a problem: the beatitudes bless Jesus’ disciples for their suffering, but the reader had not been told that he acquired followers, why they joined his mission, or how they suffered for doing so.16 Two Shipwrecked Gospels (136–37 and 196–99) proposes a simple solution. 16  Two Shipwrecked Gospels (194–96) includes a textual reconstruction of Jesus’ rejection in his hometown, Nazara, immediately after he arrived in Galilee, as in Luke 4. 3:2 And he went into Nazara and was teaching in the synagogue. 3:3 And many people on hearing were amazed and said, “Where did this fellow get his wisdom and powers? Is this not Joseph’s son?” 3:4 And they were offended by him. 3:5 And Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in his own homeland.” And he was amazed at their unbelief. 3:6 And on leaving Nazara, he went down to Capernaum. If this passage indeed appeared in Logoi soon after the temptations, its meaning would be clear: now empowered by the Spirit, Jesus’ teachings and activities are so exceptional that his neighbors question if he is the son of Joseph whom they earlier had known. Logoi’s readers recognize, of course, that at his baptism he had become the Son of God. Jesus, however, refrains from identifying himself as such, though he does identify himself with earlier prophets rejected by their own. The proverb “A prophet is not without honor except in his own homeland” would also be apt of Ezekiel: “Son of man, I am sending you to the house of Israel, to those who provoke me… . Perhaps they will listen or tremble, … and they will know that you are a prophet in their midst.

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All reconstructions of the lost Gospel contain the following: Logoi 3:7–8 (= Q 9:57–58): 3:7 3:8

And someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the sky have nests; but the Son of Man [ὁ … υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνϑρώπου] does not have anywhere he can lay his head.”

Despite the hardships, twelve men followed him. Other reconstructions of the lost Gospel invariably place this passage much later in the book, in agreement with both Matthew and Luke, but several considerations favor locating it soon after Jesus arrives in Galilee. First, if it appeared here it would supply the missing call of the disciples whom Jesus praises for their suffering hardships at the beginning of the Inaugural Sermon. Second, the passage modestly resembles Mark 1:17–20, which takes place immediately after Jesus arrives in Galilee. Logoi 3:7–10 (= Q 9:57–60)

And someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” 8 And Jesus said to him: “Foxes have holes, and birds of the sky have nests; but the Son of Man does not have anywhere he can lay his head.”

Mark 1:17–20 Jesus said to them, “Come after me, and I will make you fishermen for people.” 18 Immediately they left their nets and followed him.

And going on a bit further, he saw James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John; they were in a boat repairing the nets. 9 But another said to him, “Master, permit 20 Immediately he called them; and they left me first to go and bury my father.” 10 But their he said to him: “Follow me, and leave the father Zebedee in the boat with the hired dead to bury their own dead.” men and went off after him. 19

If Mark indeed redacted the lost Gospel, he might well have seen there the calling of followers soon after Jesus arrived in Galilee. “The absence of lexical similarities, however, precludes certainty; the parallels are thematic.”

But you, son of man, do not fear them” (2:3 and 5–6). A few verses later, the heavenly voice warns him that had he been sent to people who knew no Hebrew, “they would have listened” to him. Ironically, it was his own people, “the house of Israel,” who would reject him (3:4–7). In other words, this prophet would receive honor elsewhere, but not in his own homeland.

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Third, the inclusion of Jesus’ challenge to potential followers immediately after his temptations creates a compelling contrast between the devil’s offer of dominion over “all the kingdoms of the world,” rightfully his as the Son of God, and his homelessness as the Son of Man. The location of this pericope early in the lost Gospel makes it the earliest reference to Jesus as the Son of Man in any early Christian text! If the saying about the homeless son of man is the earliest attestation of its use in early Christian literature, where did it come from? Müller offers an observation that may help answer that question: “The Greek expression ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνϑρώπου, with two definite articles, is unknown outside the New Testament and literature dependent on it. The indefinite form υἱὸς ἀνϑρώπου is only known in pre-Christian times from the Greek translation of the Old Testament, the Septuagint, where it occurs 108 times, 93 of which are in the book of Ezekiel in God’s address to the prophet.”17 The fact that 87 % of the occurrences apply to Ezekiel and that the baptism of Jesus imitates the calling of the prophet in Ezek 1–2 strongly suggests that the reader of the lost Gospel is more likely to have seen the title in this connection than in any other. Surely there is nothing thus far to suggest that Jesus resembles the glorified Son of Man of Dan 7:13; this will come later in Logoi. The titular Son of Man, with two definite articles, would seem to be the invention of the author of the lost Gospel. At his baptism Jesus learned that he was ὁ ὑιὸς τοῦ θεοῦ, but when calling followers he designated himself ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνϑρώπου. It would appear that the two definite articles in the latter encouraged a comparison with the former. The devil had offered Jesus authority over all the kingdoms of the world, but as the Son of Man he “does not have anywhere he can lay his head.” This opposition between Son of God and Son of Man is consistent both with the use of Son of Man in the LXX and in the early Church. In the LXX son of man and the plural sons of men usually – and potentially universally – refers to human beings. Ancient Christians often understood the titles Son of Man and Son of God to refer to Jesus’ two natures, the human and the divine, the son of Mary and the offspring of the Holy Spirit.18 Of course, such an interpretation would have been impossible for the author of the lost Gospel, but it rightly

17 Expression

“Son of Man,” 2.  Müller: “Already in the Apostolic Fathers, Son of man is perceived as an alternative to Son of God. ‘Of man’ has been ascribed [to] a new and independent signification, qualifying the one so designated as of a different nature than indicated by the title Son of God” (Expression “Son of Man,” 13). He cites as examples Ignatius Eph. 20:2, Barn. 12:9–10, and Justin Apol. 1.54.7. According to the Acts of John, Jesus “was called Son of Man for our sakes,” namely to identify him with humankind. 18

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intuits an important contrast between τοῦ θεοῦ and τοῦ ἀνθρώπου. All references to Jesus as the Son of Man in Logoi 1–7 continue the theme of his suffering.19 Logoi 4:3 (= Q 6:22) In the Beatitudes, Jesus draws a contrast between the status of those who are hated and insulted “because of the Son of Man,” and their “reward in heaven.” He explicitly connects their suffering and that of the Son of Man to hostility to “the prophets.”20 4:3 4:4

“Blessed are you when they hate and insult you and say every kind of evil against you because of the Son of Man. Be glad and exult, for vast is your reward in heaven. For this is how they treated the prophets.”

Logoi 5:15 (= Q 7:34) Hostility to the Son of Man also appears in the next use of the title. 5:12 5:13 5:14 5:15 5:16

.. “To what am I to compare this generation and what is it like? It is like children seated in the market-places, who, addressing the others, say, ‘We fluted for you, but you would not dance; we wailed, but you would not beat your breasts.’ “For John came, neither eating nor drinking, and you say, ‘He has a demon!’ The Son of Man came, eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Look! A person who is a glutton and drunkard, a chum of tax collectors and sinners!’ But Wisdom was vindicated by her children.”

Wisdom appears later in Logoi as the one who sends “prophets and sages, and some of them people will kill and persecute” (7:17), which likely included both John and Jesus.

19  Two Shipwrecked Gospels, (148–50) includes Jesus’ dispute with Pharisees about his disciples gleaning on the Sabbath, which concludes with a Son of Man saying (Logoi 3:29 [Mark 2:28, Matt 12:8, and Luke 6:55]). 3:29 And he said to them, “The Son of Man is lord of the Sabbath.” Jesus permits his disciples to glean on the Sabbath as David had given bread to his soldiers. The lowly “Son of Man,” insofar as he cares for his own, ironically plays the role of “lord of the Sabbath”. 20  Cf. Matt 5:11. Several scholars have proposed that this verse does not refer to Jesus as the Son of Man but to another figure. Matthew, however, clearly took it to refer to Jesus: “because of me.”

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Logoi 6:38 (= Q 11:30) The next use of the title again connects the Son of Man to a prophet, in this case Jonah. 6:36 6:37 6:38

And others said to him, “Teacher, we want to see a sign from you.” But in reply he said to them, “An evil generation seeks a sign, and a sign will not be given to it – except the sign of Jonah! For as Jonah became to the Ninevites a sign, so also will the Son of Man be to this generation.”

Logoi’s first readers wrestled with how the Son of Man would be a sign: Mark omitted the sign entirely (8:12), and Matthew understood it to be Jesus’ resurrection after three days in the tomb (12:40). Most modern interpreters take the sign of Jonah to be his preaching of repentance, while others insist that the future tense of the verb ἔσται anticipates Jesus’ return in glory, as Jonah returned from the belly of the sea monster. In either case, he again compares himself with a prophet. Thus far in the Logoi of Jesus the Son of Man seems to be the self-effacing and ironic designation of the Son of God. Although the devil’s offer of kingdoms echoes the promise to the Son of Man in Dan 7:13–14, Jesus rejected it, preferring instead to identify with Ezekiel, another son of man, even if it meant not having a place to lay his head.

VI. The Glorified Son of Man In my reconstruction of the lost Gospel, Jesus’ controversies with the Pharisees reach the boiling point in chapter 7, at the end of which he predicts that he will destroy the temple and build another (Logoi 7:22). From this point until the end of the book he addresses his teachings exclusively to the disciples or the favorably disposed crowds. Logoi 8:8–10 (= Q 12:8–10) Of all New Testament witnesses to the Son of Man the next three verses have generated the most controversy, though one thing is certain: the Son of Man no longer evokes the rejected prophet like Ezekiel but the vindicated and glorious Son of Man in Daniel, who appears before the Ancient of Days as he judges the wicked and the righteous. “I was watching during a night vision, and behold someone like a son of man [υἱὸς ἀνϑρώπου] was coming with the clouds of heaven, until he arrived at the Ancient of Days, and was brought near him. And authority was given to him” (Dan 7:13–14a). Here is the text in Logoi:

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8:8 8:9 8:10

“Anyone who may speak out for me in public, the Son of Man will also speak out for him before the angels of God. But whoever may deny me in public, the Son of Man also will deny him before the angels of God. And whoever says a word against the Son of Man, it will be forgiven him; but whoever speaks against the holy Spirit, it will not be forgiven him.”21

Many scholars have argued that Jesus here distinguishes himself from the Son of Man who stood before the angels to advocate for his followers and to accuse his foes. Thus, Jesus here – allegedly even the historical Jesus – refers to some eschatological figure other than himself.22 The same assessment then would hold for the Son of Man in 8:10, which, according to this view, came to the author as an independent and originally unrelated tradition. Harry T. Fleddermann, however, makes a compelling case that “The saying on Confessing and Denying … does not distinguish between Jesus and the Son of Man but only between Jesus’ role in the present and his role in the eschaton.”23 Jesus, once glorified, will present charges before God’s angels against his detractors. The angels then will determine if his foes merely maligned him as the lowly Son of Man or actually maligned the Holy Spirit. The author here distinguishes between Jesus as the Son of Man as the self-effacing prophet and his role as the Son of God on whom the Spirit descended at his baptism. Logoi 8:18 (= Q 12:40) All references to the Son of Man from this point to the end of the lost Gospel similarly evoke the eschatological Son of Man as in Dan 7. 8:17 8:18

“But know this: If the householder had known in which watch the robber was coming, he would not have let his house be dug into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.”

Logoi 9:2 (= Q 17:24) 9:2

“As the lightning streaks out from sunrise and flashes as far as sunset, so will the Son of Man be on his day.”

 Cf. Mark 8:38, Matt 10:32–33 and 12:31–32, and Luke 12:8–10. however, clearly takes the Son of Man here to refer to Jesus after his glorification: “I will speak out for him”; “I will deny him” (10:32–33). The same almost certainly is true also of Mark (8:38; cf. 13:26–27). 23 Q, 591; see also 588–91. 21

22 Matthew,

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Logoi 9:4–8 (= Q 17:26–30) 9:4 9:5 9:6 9:7 9:8

“As it took place in the days of Noah so will it be in the day of the Son of Man. They ate, drank, married, and were given in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and the flood came and destroyed them all. And as it was in the days of Lot, they were eating, drinking, buying, selling, planting, and building, but on the day that Lot left Sodom, fire and sulfur rained from heaven and destroyed them, so will it also be on the day when the Son of Man is revealed.”

In each of these examples, the Son of Man no longer is the suffering prophet like Ezekiel but the glorified Son of Man of Daniel. Logoi 10:7 (Matt 10:23) All reconstructions of Q contain the so-called Mission Speech, but mine differs in two respects, both of which carry significance for the Son of Man. I locate the Mission Speech as the final major discourse in the lost Gospel and include the following Son of Man saying near the beginning of the speech, even though it appears only in Matt 10:23: 10:7

“Whenever they persecute you in this city, flee into another. For I tell you truly, you will not complete the cities of Israel until the Son of Man comes.”

The arguments for the inclusion of this passage are complex and would unduly burden the present discussion.24 It may be sufficient to note that here again the author has in mind the glorified Son of Man as in Dan 7:13 (cf. “a son of a man came”). All reconstructions of Q also include Jesus’ declaration to his followers that he is the Son of the Father, viz. God (Matt 11:27 and Luke 10:22), and locate it after the mission speech (= Q 10:22). 10:27

“Everything has been entrusted to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son, and to whomever the Son chooses to reveal him.”

Only here in the lost Gospel does Jesus claim the status that he was given at his baptism. My relocation of this entire unit at the end of the Logoi of Jesus matters because, if one prefers the order in CEQ, say, this statement appears before 24  See Two Shipwrecked Gospels, 360–64. See also the arguments by Heinz Schürmann in Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zur der synoptischen Evangelien: Beiträge, KBANT (Düsseldorf: Patmos, 1968), 137–57.

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the denunciation of the Pharisees and thus before most of the references to the rejected Son of Man. But if the Mission Speech appeared at the end of the book, this passage would appear after Jesus had declared himself as the glorified Son of Man as in Daniel. Logoi 10:62 (= Q 22:29–30) The Son of Man also appears in the last recoverable logion of the lost Gospel (= Q 22:28–30): 10:61 10:62 10:63

“Truly I tell you that you are the ones who followed me; my Father will give you the kingdom, and when the Son of Man sits on the throne of his glory, you too will sit on twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”

The reference here to the Son of Man surely evokes Dan 7. The prophet says that in his vision he saw “thrones set up, and the Ancient of Days sat down” to judge (7:9). Then “someone like a son of man [υἱὸς ἀνϑρώπου] was coming, … And authority was given to him, … and his kingdom would not be destroyed” (7:13–14). The most natural reading of this final logion in the lost Gospel is to say that despite the hardships of following Jesus as the Son of Man who had no place to lay his head, those who stuck it out with him will have lavish rewards when he finally is glorified as the Son of Man. Notice also that here the Son of Man also is the Son of God, indicated by the reference to God as Jesus’ Father.

VII. Analysis It would appear that the origin of the title lies in the literary imagination of Logoi’s author, who found the contrasting uses of the title in Ezekiel and Daniel inspiration for Jesus’ evolution from the rejected prophet to the recipient of the kingdom of God. Every instance of Son of Man in Logoi 1–7 pertains to the Son of Man’s hardships and rejection. 3:8 (= Q 9:58): 4:3 (= Q 6:22):

“The Son of Man does not have anywhere he can lay his head.” “Blessed are you when they hate and insult you and say every kind of evil against you because of the Son of Man.” 5:15 (= Q 7:34): “The Son of Man came, eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Look! A person who is a glutton and drunkard, a chum of tax collectors and sinners!’” 6:38 (= Q 11:30): “For as Jonah became to the Ninevites a sign, so also will the Son of Man be to this generation.” Once again the author compares Jesus to a prophet, but unlike the Ninevites, “this generation” will reject him.

Nothing in these first four uses of the title encourages a connection with the glorified Son of Man in Dan 7.

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The uses of the title dramatically change, however, in the second half of the book, where it refers indisputably to Daniel’s Son of Man. The following cluster of sayings redirects the title: 8:8 (= Q 12:8): 8:9 (= Q 12:9): 8:10 (= Q 12:10):

“Anyone who may speak out for me in public, the Son of Man will also speak out for him before the angels of God. But whoever may deny me in public, the Son of Man also will deny him before the angels of God. And whoever says a word against the Son of Man, it will be forgiven him; but whoever speaks against the holy Spirit, it will not be forgiven him.”

This presentation as the glorified Son of Man persists to the end of the book. 8:18 (= Q 12:40): 9:2 (= Q 17:24):

“The Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.” “As the lightning streaks out from sunrise … , so will the Son of Man be on his day.” 9:4 (= Q 17:26): “As it took place in the days of Noah so will it be in the day of the Son of Man.” 9:8 (= Q 17:30): As it was in the days of Lot, so will it also be on the day when the Son of Man is revealed.” 10:7: “You will not complete the cities of Israel until the Son of Man comes.” 10:62 (= Q 22:29–30): “When the Son of Man sits on the throne of his glory.”

Two Shipwrecked Gospels argued for symmetry between the beginning of Logoi and its ending. After Jesus’ baptism the devil tempted him with three offers, privileges he could claim if he were God’s Son: the transformation of stones into bread, angelic protection from harm, and authority over the kingdoms of the world. At the end of the lost Gospel, Jesus reveals that he will be glorified as the Son of Man, and promises bread to the Twelve, their protection from harm by demons, and twelve thrones from which they will judge the twelve tribes of Israel. Compare the following:25 Logoi 2:5 (= Q 4:3)

Logoi 10:30–31 and 40 (= Q 11:2–3 and 11)

And the devil told him, “If you are God’s Son, order that these stones become bread.”

“When you pray say, … ‘Our day’s bread, give us today… .’ 40What person of you, whose son asks for bread, will give him a stone?” Logoi 10:23–25 (= Q 10:17–19)25 “And in my name the demons will submit to you. 24 I saw Satan falling from the sky like lightning.

Logoi 2:7–8 (= Q 4:9–12) And the devil took him along to Jerusalem and put him on the tip of the temple and told him, “If you are God’s Son, throw yourself down.

25 Most reconstructions of Q omit this logion. See the arguments in Two Shipwrecked Gospels, 367–72.

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Logoi 2:5 (= Q 4:3)

Logoi 10:30–31 and 40 (= Q 11:2–3 and 11)

8 For it is written, ‘He will command his angels about you to guard you.’” [Ps 90:11–12 (MT 91:11–12): He will command his angels about you, to guard you in all your ways; 12 and on their hands they will bear you, so that you do not strike your foot against a stone.]

25

Look, I am giving you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions and every power of the enemy, and nothing will harm you.” [Ps 90:13 (MT 91:13): You will walk on the asp and the basilisk, and you will tread on the lion and the dragon.]

At the temptation, the devil invites the Son of God to throw himself down because angels will protect him from harm. At the end of the lost Gospel it is Satan who falls from the sky and Jesus will protect his followers from harm. The devil quotes Ps 90:11–12 (MT 91:11–12), and its counterpart at the end of the book alludes to the very next verse! This surely is not accidental. One may reasonably object that few readers would be able to catch this resumptive quotation of the famous Psalm, but the contrasts between the final saying of Jesus and the temptations are clearer: Logoi 2:11–13 (= Q 4:5–8)

Logoi 10:62–63 (= Q 22:29–30)

The devil took him along to a high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world, 12 and told him, “I will give you all this authority and their glory, 13 if you bow down before me.”

“My Father will give you the kingdom,

and when the Son of Man sits on the throne of his glory, 63 you too will sit on twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”

In Logoi 10:25 Jesus gave authority to the Twelve to tread on “every power of the enemy.” At the end of his career, Jesus was victorious over his diabolical tempter just after his baptism. Surely is it worth noting that Mark similarly uses the title Son of Man eleven times without parallels in the lost Gospel, and these instances generally follow the same pattern from the rejected Son of Man, like Ezekiel (8:31, 9:9, 12, and 31, and 10:33 and 45; see also 14:21 and 41) to the glorified Son of Man of Dan 7.26 The only references to the exalted Son of Man of Daniel appear later in Mark: “And then they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds with power and glory.” (13:26) He was silent and made no response. Again the high priest asked him and said to him, “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed?” And Jesus said, “I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming with the clouds of heaven.’” (14:61–62) 26  The single exception is 2:10, where one reads of the Son of Man’s authority to forgive sins, which may reflect the Son of Man’s authority over the Sabbath in Logoi 3:29.

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VIII. Conclusion Isolating the genesis of the Son of Man has been difficult because the text of the Logoi of Jesus shipwrecked. The proposed reconstruction implies that the title does not go back to Jesus but to the literary imagination of an unknown Evangelist. At the beginning of this study I quoted the conclusion of Mogen Müller: “The interpretation of the Son of Man in the New Testament is in freefall until it is recognized that the expression does not have any special meaning before it receives it through its concrete context in the respective Gospels.”27 Müller had in mind the canonical Gospels, especially Mark. Here I have proposed that the quest must begin with the Logoi of Jesus. Several scholars have proposed – in my view correctly – that his depiction of the Son of Man addresses the suffering of his intended audience whom he addresses indirectly in Jesus’ instructions to his followers. For example (= Q 6:22–23): 4:3 4:4

“Blessed are you when they hate and insult you and say every kind of evil against you because of the Son of Man. Be glad and exult, for vast is your reward in heaven. For this is how they treated the prophets.”

This proposal for the origin of the titular Son of Man no doubt will meet opposition from several quarters. Most obviously, scholars who are convinced that Q never existed will not be persuaded, no matter how compelling the literary arguments. Furthermore, most advocates of the 2DH and the existence of Q hold that Mark was unaware of the lost Gospel and therefore must have inherited the expression Son of Man independently. Those who hold that the Gospel of John is independent of Q and the Synoptics likewise will look elsewhere for its genesis. Finally, the reading of Son of Man in the lost Gospel works best when two of the relevant logia are arranged as in the Logoi of Jesus and not as in The Critical Edition of Q. On the other hand, this solution elegantly addresses three issues that have vexed other proposals. First, even though the singular “a son of a man” appears 112 times in the LXX, it never appears with the article, let alone with the double articles, “the son of the man.” In the lost Gospel, the Synoptics, and Acts, however, it invariably does. The author of Logoi apparently added both articles so that ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνϑρώπου more obviously contrasts with ὁ ὑιὸς τοῦ θεοῦ. Second, this interpretation of the origin of Son of Man would explain why in the Gospels it always is spoken by Jesus in direct discourse. It is entirely absent in the Christological vocabulary of the early Church. Even for the author of the lost Gospel, the more correct title is Son of God (2:2, 5, and 7 (= Q 3:22, 4:3 27 Expression

“Son of Man,” 419.

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and 9); the title messiah is entirely absent), and Jesus himself says as much to the Twelve in 10:26–27. In fact, by the end of the book the expression Son of Man becomes closely identified with Jesus as God’s Son (10:62 [= Q 22:29–30]). Third, previous scholarship has struggled to see in the Son of Man a coherent concept, but, as Larry Hurtado notes, “’the son of man’ can be used in sayings that stake various claims about Jesus (e. g., Jesus’ authority, or humble situation, or heavenly provenance [in John], or eschatological significance)… . The sheer diversity of sentences in which the Evangelists used ‘the son of man’ … surely show that it did not have for them some precise and fixed meaning.”28 This plasticity in usage likely began with the author of the lost Gospel, who filled the expression with two paradoxical meanings: the rejected prophet like Ezekiel and the glorified recipient of God’s kingdom of Daniel’s vision.

IX. The Son of Man in Luke and Acts 7:56 For the most part, when Luke redacted passages in the lost Gospel he retained them in the sequence that he found them, with two exceptions.29 The lost Gospel apparently presented Jesus’ challenge to potential followers soon after his temptations, but this passage does not appear in Luke until the beginning of his long Travel Section (9:57–62). This relocation most likely was caused by his redaction of Mark 1:16–20, the calling of four fishermen, soon after the temptations. As is widely recognized, for his Travel Section as a whole (9:51–19:27) he relied primarily on the lost Gospel and characteristically retained the sequence of logia as he found it. He apparently used the challenge to followers at the beginning of the lost Gospel for the beginning of this section to provide the setting for Jesus’ expansion of his retinue to the Seventy, whom he commissions in 10:1–20, which surely came from Q / ​Logoi. The second relocation relevant to the Son of Man does not actually use the title. In Luke 10:27 Jesus identifies himself to his disciples as the Son of God, and by so doing the Evangelist disturbed the sequence in the lost Gospel where such a revelation likely took place after, not before, the transition from the rejected to the glorified Son of Man (Logoi 8:8–10; cf. Luke 12:8–10). The passage in Luke appears immediately after the commissioning of the Seventy, which, as we have seen, redacts the sending of the Twelve in the lost Gospel. Two Shipwrecked Gospels argued that the same sequence – commission followed by Jesus’ declaration to be the Son of the Father – appeared in the Logoi of Jesus, but at the  “Who Is this Son of Man?” 166–67. Shipwrecked Gospels attributed to the lost Gospel two other instances: the Son of Man as lord of the Sabbath (Logoi 3:29; cf. Luke 6:55) and the return of the Son of Man before the completion of the mission to Israel (Logoi 10:7). Luke followed the sequence of the lost Gospel for the first and omitted the second. 28

29 Two

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end of the book, not midway. Luke’s relocation of the mission speech reflects his redaction of Mark 6:8–13, where the ending of the Twelve similarly takes place early in Jesus’ career. Be that as it may, the passage most relevant to the Son of Man in Acts 7:56 appears in Luke’s redaction of Mark 16:61–62: Mark 14:61b–62

Luke 22:67–70

Again the chief priest asked him and said to him, “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed?” 62 And Jesus said, “I am,

[They were] saying, “If you are the Messiah, tell us.”

He said to them, “Even if I were to tell you, you would not believe. 68 And if I were to ask, you would not answer. and you will see the Son of Man seated at 69 From now on the Son of Man will be seatthe right hand of Power and coming with ed at the right hand of the power of God.” the clouds of heaven.” 70 Everyone said, “Are you then the Son of God?” He told them, “You yourselves say that I am.”

Earlier in the Lukan Gospel, Son of Man usually referred to Jesus’ rejection and inevitable death, but at his Sanhedrin trial he declares that “from now on” the Son of Man will sit at God’s right hand. The authorities suspect that the glorified Son of Man is Jesus’ elusive way of calling himself the Son of God. The reader, of course, knows that Jesus is both. Stephen’s vision of the Son of Man thus is a brilliant Lukan literary culmination to his use of the title. In his own suffering Stephen imitates the suffering of the Son of Man, but it is his vision of the glorified Son of Man that emboldens him in martyrdom. The reader thus is assured that Jesus’ prediction of his postmortem honors at God’s right hand had been confirmed by the first martyr, the only application of the title to Jesus by someone other than himself in the entire Synoptic tradition.30

 This conclusion largely agrees with that of Sabbe, “Son of Man.”

30

Peter and the Expansion of Early Christianity in the Letters of Acts (15:23–29) and First Peter Troy W. Martin I. Introduction First Peter and the letter from the Jerusalem Assembly in Acts 15:23–29 are rarely considered together and probably for good reason, since they are so different.1 The letter from the Assembly is embedded in a narrative while First Peter is not. In terms of size, First Peter consists of 105 verses while the Assembly letter is much shorter, a mere seven verses. On the one hand, circumcision of non-Jews occasions the Assembly letter but plays no role at all in First Peter. On the other hand, suffering is a major concern of First Peter but is not mentioned in the Assembly letter. Of course, both letters have different senders and recipients, although Peter as one of the apostles may be involved in the writing of the Assembly letter and claims to be the sole author of First Peter. These differences among others explain why these two letters are rarely compared, and such stark differences may even now make any connection between them appear unlikely. In spite of these differences, however, these two letters have one explicit connection beyond their epistolary form, and that similarity is routinely mentioned in the secondary literature. Almost all commentators recognize that Silas or Silvanus plays a key role in both letters. He is one of the two bearers of the letter from the Assembly (Acts 15:27), and he is the faithful brother through whom Peter writes his letter either as an amanuensis or letter carrier or both (1 Pet 5:12). Naturally, some question whether these letters refer to the same man or to two different persons who just happen to share the common name of Silas / ​ Silvanus.2 A few even propose that the Silvanus in First Peter is not a real person at all but rather a literary fiction and a pseudepigraphic device.3 Whatever the 1  See, however, the recent comparison of both of these letters along with James as examples of Diaspora Letters by Lutz Doering, Ancient Jewish Letters and the Beginnings of Christian Epistolography, WUNT 298 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 430–71. 2  For a discussion and bibliography, see Achtemeier, 1 Peter: A Commentary on First Peter, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 350–351. 3  Norbert Brox, Der erste Petrusbrief, EKKNT (Zurich: Benziger, 1979), 241; Karl Hermann Schelkle, Der Petrusbrief, der Judasbrief, HThKNT (Freiburg: Herder, 19703), 133; cf. Achtemeier, 1 Peter, 351.

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resolution of these questions, the fact remains that both letters name a certain Silas / ​Silvanus as somehow involved in transmitting these letters from the authors to their recipients.4 Beyond this obvious connection, these letters also address a similar rhetorical exigence, albeit one that is rarely compared. The historical circumstances that produced these letters were so different that a claim of a similar rhetorical exigence may, at first sight, appear most unlikely. Although surrounded and enclosed by different circumstances, the “imperfection marked by urgency” and “the thing which is other than it should be” in both letters nevertheless bears a striking similarity and invites comparison.5 Now whether this exigence is historical, as Bitzer assumes, or solely in the mind of the authors of these letters, as Vatz contends, it is nevertheless embedded in these texts, as Stamps points out for letters in general.6 An exploration of a similar exigence in First Peter and the Assembly letter, therefore, reasonably begins by investigating the rhetoric of these letters to determine the “positive modification” the rhetorical arguments attempt to make in the rhetorical situation.7

II. The Rhetorical Exigence and Arguments of the Assembly Letter The “imperfection marked by urgency” addressed by the Assembly letter becomes explicit in the narrative in which this letter is embedded. According to this narrative, some unspecified persons come down from Jerusalem to Antioch and are teaching that Gentile brothers cannot be saved without circumcision (Acts 15:1). Since Greeks and Romans consider circumcision immoral and indecent, these Gentile brothers are not about to submit to circumcision.8 A row ensues, and Paul and some other representatives are sent to Jerusalem for an official apostolic determination whether or not uncircumcised Gentile brothers have a legitimate stake in salvation (Acts 15:2). 4 Richard

I. Pervo, Acts: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 380. F. Bitzer, “The Rhetorical Situation,” Philosophy and Rhetoric 1 (1968): 6. 6  Bitzer, “Rhetorical Situation,” 3–6; Richard E. Vatz, “The Myth of the Rhetorical Situation,” Philosophy and Rhetoric 6 (1973): 156–157; Dennis L. Stamps, “Rethinking the Rhetorical Situation: The Entextualization of the Situation in New Testament Epistles,” in Rhetoric and the New Testament: Essays from the 1992 Heidelberg Conference, JSNTSup 120, ed. Stanley E. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 199–203. 7 Bitzer, “Rhetorical Situation,” 7. 8  Troy W. Martin, “Apostasy to Paganism: The Rhetorical Stasis of the Galatian Controversy,” JBL 114 (1995): 441–442; idem, “Circumcision in Galatia and the Holiness of God’s Ecclesiae,” in Holiness and Ecclesiology in the New Testament, ed. Kent E. Brower and Andy Johnson (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 223–225; idem, “Paul and Circumcision,” in vol. 1 of Paul in the Greco-Roman World: A Handbook, ed. J. Paul Sampley, 2nd ed. (London: Bloomsbury, 2016), 114–123. 5 Lloyd

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The narrative assumes that Paul does not have apostolic standing to resolve this controversy over circumcision, although he is allowed to speak at the Jerusalem Assembly (Acts 15:12). However, the apostle Peter’s speech and not Paul’s carries the day (Acts 15:7–11), and James specifically ignores what Paul says but picks up on Peter’s speech and articulates the official apostolic ruling that Gentiles need not be circumcised to be legitimate members of God’s people (Acts 15:13–21).9 Since no apostle is apparently willing to travel to Antioch, James recommends sending a letter to communicate this apostolic decree and to confirm the uncircumcised Gentile brothers as legitimate members of God’s people. The rhetorical situation embedded in this letter reflects the historical situation described in the narrative. This letter is addressed to the Gentile brothers in Antioch and Syria and Cilicia (Acts 15:23). It begins by mentioning the unspecified persons who claimed to be “official” representatives of the apostles and who disturbed and unsettled these brothers as to their status among the people of God. This letter then presents these persons as unauthorized representatives of the apostles, who “gave them no orders [to do what they did]” (Acts 15:24).10 What is thus lacking in the situation of the brothers addressed by this letter is an apostolic determination of their status that has been challenged by these unauthorized persons. The rhetorical exigence of the Assembly letter, therefore, is the lack of apostolic confirmation and legitimation among uncircumcised Gentile brothers in Antioch, Syria, and Cilicia. In contrast to the Gentiles in the household of Cornelius (Acts 10:34–48) and at Samaria (Acts 8:14–17), no apostle is sent to the areas addressed by this letter. Instead, the letter itself serves as a surrogate for the apostolic presence and extends apostolic confirmation and legitimation to the Gentile brothers in these areas.11 The “positive modification” that this letter attempts to make to the imperfection in the rhetorical situation is to confirm and legitimate these uncircumcised brothers by a “direct” word from absent apostles, and this imperfection is both embedded in the letter itself and made explicit by the narrative frame in which this letter occurs. Given this exigence, the Assembly letter appropriately relies heavily on ethical argumentation and from beginning to end emphasizes the importance of its authors’ and senders’ ethos. The prescript of this letter identifies the senders as οἱ ἀπόστολοι καὶ οἱ πρεσβύτεροι ἀδελφοί, which some commentators render as “the  Doering, Jewish Letters, 470; Pervo, Acts, 379.  Aristotle, Rhet. 2.22.14–15 1396b; R. Dean Anderson, Jr., Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms Connected to Methods of Argumentation, Figures and Tropes from Anaximenes to Quintilian (Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 40–41. See Pervo, Acts, 381–382. 11  See Robert W. Funk, “The Apostolic Parousia: Form and Significance,” in Christian History and Interpretation (Studies Presented to John Knox), ed. William R. Farmer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), 249–268; and F. Vouga, “Der Brief als Form der apostolischen Autorität,” in Studien und Texte zur Formgeschichte, ed. Klaus Berger et al., TANZ 7 (Tübingen: Francke, 1992), 7–58.  9 10

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apostles and the elder brothers.”12 Other commentators note that the designation “the elder brothers” occurs nowhere else in Acts or in the rest of the New Testament. Furthermore, they note that “the apostles and the elders” is a common designation in Acts for the leadership of the Jerusalem church (Acts 15:22). For these reasons, these commentators understand the Greek syntax as influenced by an Aramaic idiom as part of Luke’s Semitic style or as part of an Aramaic source for this letter, and they render the senders as “the apostles and the elders, brothers.” These commentators thus take “brothers” to be in apposition to both apostles and elders.13 The prescript of this letter elevates the ethos of these brothers by designating them as “the apostles and the elders,” and Acts uses both these terms to designate the leadership of the church that has authority to make official decisions and to conduct the affairs of the church. The prescript of this letter further enhances the ethos of its senders by portraying their decisions with the well-known formula of a city decree “it seemed good to us” (Acts 15:25).14 Their decisions therefore carry a weight and force similar to the decrees of a city or political council. In addition, the ability of these senders to reach unanimous decisions further enhances their ethos and the trustworthiness of these decisions. The word ὁμοθυμαδόν (“in one accord”) in Acts 15:25 is important not only for the author of Acts (cf. 1:14; 2:46; 4:24; 5:12; 7:57;8:6; 12:20; 18:12; 19:29) but also for political contexts, where “it confers particular weight on the decision of a corporate body.”15 The letter adds even more gravity to the ethos of its senders by including the Holy Spirit in this political formula “it seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us” (Acts 15: 28). Their decisions expressed in this letter are not simply human decrees but have divine force and authorization as well.16 The letter enhances the ethos not only of its authors and senders but also its letter carriers designated as Judas and Silas. It appoints these men as “chosen” 12  F. F. Bruce, The Acts of the Apostles: The Greek Text with Introduction and Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975), 302; Ernst Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1971), 441. Some manuscripts add καὶ οἱ (“and the”) before ἀδελφοί (“brothers”) and thus identify three groups of senders, namely “the apostles, the elders, and the brothers.” According to the text critical rule lectio difficilior probabilior, this variant is probably an emendation of a later scribe to resolve the difficulty of reading ἀδελφοί (“brothers”) in apposition to both οἱ ἀπόστολοι καὶ πρεσβύτεροι (“the apostles and the elders”). 13  For example, Kirsopp Lake and Henry J. Cadbury, English Translation and Commentary, vol. 4 of The Acts of the Apostles, ed. F. J. Foakes Jackson and Kirsopp Lake (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1979), 179–180. See the translations of the NRSV, NJB, and NIV. For the Aramaic idiom, see C. C.  Torrey, The Composition and Date of Acts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1916), 39. Doering (Jewish Letters, 466) sees a similar appositional use of ἀδελφοί (“brothers”) in the introductory letter in 2 Macc 1:1. 14  P. J. Rhodes with D. M. Lewis, The Decrees of the Greek States (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), 525–526, 537. Cf. Doering, Jewish Letters, 467–468 n. 212; Pervo, Acts, 380. 15  Hans Wolfgang Heidland, “ὁμοθυμαδόν,” TDNT 5.185. For examples, see Aristophanes, Aves 1015; Demosthenes, [4 Philip.] 59; Josephus, Ant. 15.277. See also Pervo, Acts, 383. 16 Ibid.

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by the apostles and sent as official apostolic representatives (Acts 15:25, 27). The letter authorizes these men to speak on behalf of the apostles and elders and further elevates their ethos by mentioning Paul and Barnabas as their traveling companions. The letter describes Paul and Barnabas as “beloved” and as men who have put their lives on the line for Jesus Christ (Acts 15:25–26) although they are not official letter carriers and are not authorized to speak on behalf of the apostles. The letter clearly reserves and limits this official capacity to Judas and Silas, who are the spokespersons for the apostles (Acts 15:27) and who reiterate the contents of the letter announcing the decision of the Jerusalem Assembly not to require circumcision for Gentile brothers to be legitimate members of the people of God (Acts 15:28–29). The ethical arguments of this letter thus render not only the authors and senders as worthy of belief but also extend this trustworthiness to its letter carriers.17 The apostolic authorization of these letter carriers is necessary to provide an unbroken link in the transmission of the legitimation and confirmation conferred by the apostles and elders on the Gentile brothers to whom this letter is addressed. The ethical arguments are therefore needed because the trustworthiness of both the senders and carriers of this letter is necessary to substantiate the confirmation and legitimation that resolves the imperfection inherent in the rhetorical situation. In addition to its ethical argumentation, this letter also utilizes one primary logical argument by addressing its recipients as brothers (Acts 15:23). Although brother-terminology occurs in ancient letters as a form of polite address among near equals, its use here is with the sense of a member of the same ethno-religious group.18 Thus, the designation of both the senders and recipients of this letter as brothers in the epistolary prescript (Acts 15:23) is significant and expresses a very truncated enthymeme of only a single title that states the minor premise of the enthymeme while the key assumption and the conclusion remain unstated.19 17 According to Aristotle (Rhet. 1.2.3–5; 2.1.5–7), the goal of ethical argumentation is to render a speaker as worthy of belief (ἀξιόπιστος). The means of the ethical argumentation in the Assembly Letter is by presenting the virtue and perhaps also the good-will of the senders and the letter carriers. 18 For a discussion of the uses of this terminology in general, see Doering, Jewish Letters, 32–33, 38. For its use in Galatians, see Troy W. Martin, “The Brother Body: Addressing and Describing the Galatians and the Agitators as Ἀδελφοί,” BR 47 (2002): 5–18. For its use in 1 Peter, see idem, Apostolic Conformation and Legitimation in an Early Christian Faith Document: A Commentary on the First Epistle of the Apostle Peter, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming). 19 Rhetorical critics understand the enthymeme differently. See Troy W. Martin, “Invention and Arrangement in Recent Pauline Rhetorical Studies: A Survey of the Practices and Problems,” in Paul and Rhetoric, ed. J. Paul Sampley and Peter Lampe (New York: T & T Clark, 2010), 95–102. I am relying here on the working definition and analytical approach of Thomas H. Olbricht, “An Aristotelian Rhetorical Analysis of 1 Thessalonians,” in Greeks, Romans, and Christians: Essays in Honor of Abraham J. Malherbe, ed. David Balch et al. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990), 231–32.

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The recipients must supply the major premise that legitimate members of this faith community are called brothers. The designation of the apostles and elders who send this letter as brothers implies and reinforces the truth of this major premise but does not state it explicitly. Furthermore, the rhetorical suppression of the term brothers in reference to the unspecified, unauthorized persons who went out from the apostles and elders to trouble the recipients and to force circumcision on them also points to this major premise (Acts 15:24). In the prescript of this letter, the apostles and elders as brothers address the recipients as brothers, and the unpacked enthymeme reads as follows: (major premise) legitimate members of our faith community are called brothers; (minor premise) we call you brothers; (conclusion) you are legitimate members of our faith community. This logical argumentation along with the ethical argumentation in the Assembly letter therefore attempts to remove the imperfection of the questionable status of the Gentile recipients and thus resolve the rhetorical exigence addressed by this letter.

III. The Rhetorical Exigence and Argumentation of First Peter In contrast to the Assembly letter, First Peter lacks an external narrative to corroborate the rhetorical situation it addresses. Determining its exigence must therefore rely largely on the contents and arguments within the letter itself, and there is thus a wider range of opinions about the exigence of First Peter than of the Assembly letter. The “imperfection marked by urgency” in First Peter is variously described as suffering, persecution, prejudice, social identity, social distinctiveness, or social assimilation, among a number of other theological and pastoral proposals. Of course, none of these proposals has very much similarity with the “controlling exigence” of the Assembly letter, but then none of these appears to be the “one controlling exigence which functions as the organizing principle” of First Peter, since none of these alone can account for all of the arguments and contents throughout this letter.20 A valid comparison of the “imperfection marked by urgency” in First Peter with the Assembly letter requires identifying the “one controlling exigence” of First Peter. One important clue for identifying the controlling exigence of First Peter is its destination to five provinces in Asia Minor. If these five names refer to Roman Provinces rather than native regions, then they encompass almost the whole of Asia Minor except for an area south and east of the Taurus Mountains primarily along the Mediterranean coast. Hort explains that these southern regions of Cilicia, Pamphylia, and Lycia are not mentioned in First Peter because they are separated from the rest of Asia Minor by the Taurus Mountain Range and form 20 Bitzer,

“Rhetorical Situation,” 7.

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a distinctive geographical area.21 He states that mentioning them in the Petrine prescript “would have been as likely to introduce an incongruity as to give greater completeness.”22 Although Hort’s explanation is more or less geographically accurate, it nevertheless begs the question of why not include these areas anyway. The letter is already addressed to an area encompassing several thousand square miles, and the inclusion of the regions south and east of the Taurus Mountains would not have added significantly to that area.23 Many commentators note this surprising omission of Cilicia, Lycia, and Pamphylia and suggest other explanations such as that these areas were simply not on the delivery circuit of the letter. Perhaps, but it is curious that First Peter picks up geographically precisely where the letter from the Jerusalem assembly leaves off. The Assembly letter provides clear apostolic confirmation and legitimation to the areas of Syria and Cilicia (Acts 15:23) and that confirmation for Cilicia probably also extends to Pamphylia since the two are a geographical unit even if they are not a political one. Acts 27:5 certainly uses a single definite article for both Cilicia and Pamphylia and thus indicates that the two are considered as one.24 The Emperor Claudius joined Lycia and Pamphylia into their own political jurisdiction in 43 C. E., and hence Lycia may also have apostolic confirmation by the Assembly letter because of its political connection with Pamphylia.25 Picking up geographically where the Assembly letter leaves off indicates that the positive modification attempted by First Peter may be to extend into the rest of Asia Minor the apostolic confirmation given to Syria and Cilicia by the Assembly letter. The author of Acts attempts to extend the influence of the Assembly letter into the area north and west of the Taurus Mountains through the hand of Paul and Silas. In Acts 16:4, this author reports that Paul and Silas passed through the cities beyond the Taurus Mountains and delivered to them the decisions determined in the Assembly letter by the apostles and elders in Jerusalem. However, this letter is not addressed to the area beyond these mountains.26 Nevertheless, the tradition that Silas personally announces the Apostolic Decree contained in this letter to Gentiles in Syria and Cilicia and in the rest of Asia Minor may provide the basis for the selection of him as the letter carrier for First Peter. This connection indicates that the controlling exigence of First Peter is the lack of apostolic confirmation for the brothers who live in areas of Asia Minor not specifically addressed or officially legitimated by the Assembly letter. 21   F. J. A.  Hort, The First Epistle of St Peter I.1 – II.17: The Greek Text with Introductory Lecture, Commentary, and Additional Notes (London: Macmillan, 1898), 165–167. 22 Ibid., 167. 23  The area is 128,889 square miles according to John H. Elliott, A Home for the Homeless: A Sociological Exegesis of 1 Peter, Its Situation and Strategy (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981), 60. 24 For the grammatical explanation, see Herbert W. Smyth, Greek Grammar (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980), § 1143. 25  See Hort, First Peter, 162–163. 26 Pervo, Acts, 381.

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The whole of First Peter is easily read as a response to such an imperfection because the rhetorical arguments from beginning to end address the issue of the apostolic confirmation and legitimation of the recipients of this letter. Similar to the Assembly letter, ethos plays a key role in the argumentation of First Peter as the first few words of the Petrine prescript demonstrate. At the very beginning, the author identifies himself as Πέτρος ἀπόστολος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ. The omission of the definite article with ἀπόστολος occasions some translation problems because the lack of a definite article in English implies the indefinite article. Hence, almost all English translations (e. g., RSV, NIV, NAB) insert the indefinite article and translate: “Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ.” This translation minimizes Peter’s apostolic role as one among many. The omission of the definite article in Greek, however, does not minimize Peter’s role but emphasizes his official status as apostle. The Greek definite article originates as a demonstrative pronoun whose syntax is apposition.27 When it is used with an appositive or attributive after a person’s name, it distinguishes that person from others with the same name.28 When it is not used, the emphasis falls on the official designation of the appositive. The force of the article is seen in the articular formulation ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις Ἡρῴδου τοῦ βασιλέως (“in the days of Herod the King; Matt 2:1) in contrast to the anarthrous ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις Ἡρῴδου βασιλέως τῆς Ἰουδαίας (in the days of Herod, King of Judea; Luke 1:5). In the former, the definite article distinguishes this Herod from Herod Antipas (Matt 14:1) and other Herods while the lack of the definite article before βασιλέως in the latter stresses his official title. The former translates “Herod the King” while the latter is rendered “Herod, King of Judea.” Similarly, the phrase Πέτρος ὁ ἀπόστολος would translate as “Peter the apostle” with the force of “Peter, that [Peter who is an] apostle.” The addition of the definite article would thus distinguish this Peter from other men with the same name. Since the name “Peter” is not attested and therefore not widely used before Christianity, the Petrine prescript has no need to use the definite article to distinguish Peter from others with this name.29 Instead, the prescript omits the article to emphasize Peter’s official standing as Apostle of Jesus Christ, and the phrase Πέτρος ἀπόστολος should be translated as “Peter, Apostle of Jesus Christ,” to emphasize his apostolic office as do The New Jerusalem Bible and The Darby Bible.30 The anarthrous construction thus stresses Peter’s official role as apostle and therefore serves the ethical argument of the letter to lend apostolic confirmation and legitimation to its recipients.  Smyth, Grammar, § 1099.  Ibid., § 1142a. 29 Peter Lampe, “Das Spiel mit dem Petrusnamen – Matt. XVI. 18,” NTS 25 (1979): 228. 30  Achtemeier, 1 Peter, 79. For a similar reason, Pauline prescripts also lack the definite article before the official designation ἀπόστολος in 2 Cor 1:1; Gal 1:1; Eph 1:1; Col 1:1; 1 Tim 1:1; 2 Tim 1:1; and Tit 1:1. 27 28

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The syntax of the nominative Πέτρος ἀπόστολος furthers the ethical argument in another way as well. Francis Exler’s formulaic analysis of epistolary prescripts obscures the defective syntax in the formula A‑ to B‑ χαίρειν.31 Specifically, the formula lacks a finite verb for which the sender’s name, in the nominative case, would be the subject and for which the recipients, in the dative case, would be the indirect complement or indirect object.32 Apollonius Dyscolus, a second century C. E. Greek grammarian, reasons that “since both names” in an epistolary prescript “are in the third person, both the nominative one and the dative one, the verb that belongs to them must also be in the third person, and be one which can appropriately be construed with the nominative name as subject.”33 According to him, the verb usually elided in the epistolary prescript is λέγει (“says”) or εὔχεται (“wishes”), but he prefers the former as the more natural and provides the following example: Τρύφων Θέωνι λέγει χαίρειν (“Tryphon says to Theon to rejoice”). 34 He concludes, “It is also clear that the supplying of the understood (hupakoumenon) verb will make the formula a complete sentence (autoteleia).”35 The letters of Amasis and Darius support Apollonius’ completion of the ellipsis with the verb λέγει (“says”). The former begins, “Ἄμασις Πολυκράτει ὧδε λέγει” (“Amasis says thus to Polycrates).”36 The latter reads, “βασιλεὺς βασιλέων Δαρεῖος … Γαδάται δούλωι τάδε λέγει” (“Darius, the King of Kings … , says thus to his servant Gadatas).”37 Both of these letters have the verb λέγει in their prescripts and support Apollonius’ proposed verb to complete the ellipsis. The significance of supplying λέγει in the Petrine prescript is that the letter begins with Peter’s speaking to his recipients to confirm them as legitimate members of God’s people. In the Christian traditions in Acts, Peter’s speaking le31  Francis Xavier J. Exler, “The Form and Function of the Ancient Greek Letter: A Study in Greek Epistolography,” (PhD Dissertation, Catholic University of America, 1923), 23. 32  See the discussion of the syntactical problem in Hans-Josef Klauck, Ancient Letters and the New Testament: A Guide to Context and Exegesis (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2006), 18–19. Klauck’s resolution of the problem is preferable to that of Mark Dubis, I Peter: A Handbook on the Greek Text, BHGNT (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2010), 1. In regard to First Peter, for example, Dubis (I Peter, 1) specifies that Πέτρος is a nominative absolute and states that “such nominatives only appear in introductory material, such as the opening formula of a letter,” and that they do “not constitute a sentence.” According to Dubis, the syntax of the Petrine prescript is anacoluthic in that the nominative “at the beginning is not followed out consistently” to form a complete sentence. For this understanding of an anacoluthon, see Smyth, Grammar, § 3004. 33  Apollonius Dyscolus, De constructione 3.64; trans. Fred W. Householder, The Syntax of Apollonius Dyscolus: Translated and with Commentary, Amsterdam Studies in the Theory and History of Linguistic Science 3, Studies in the History of Linguistics 23 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1981), 179. 34  Apollonius Dyscolus, De constructione, 3.65–66. 35 Ibid., 3.66; trans. Householder, Syntax, 180. 36  Herodotus, Hist. 3.40. 37  Russell Meiggs and David Lewis, A Selection of Greek Historical Inscriptions to the End of the Fifth Century B. C. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1969), inscr. 12, p. 20.

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gitimates Gentile Christians both in the household of Cornelius (Acts 10:44–45) and at the Jerusalem Assembly (Acts 15:7–11). If λέγει were the elided verb in the Petrine prescript, then First Peter is an extension of these early Christian traditions as Peter speaks through this letter to his recipients in Asia Minor and legitimates their status as true members of the church. In addition to λέγει (“says”), another possibility is that an elided ἐπιστέλλει (“sends”) or its aorist form (ἐπέστειλε) as an epistolary aorist completes the defective syntax of the Petrine prescript. Two of the oldest Greek letters yet discovered (fifth and fourth century B. C. E.) contain this verb in the prescript. The first begins, “Ὦ Πρωταγόρη, ὀ πατήρ τοι ἐπιστέλλε̄ ” (“Protagoras, your father sends you [a letter]).”38 The second likewise begins, “Μνησίεργος ἐπέστειλε τοῖς οἴκοι χαίρε̄ ν καὶ ὑγιαίνε̄ ν” (“Mnesiergos sends [a letter] to the people at home [for them] to rejoice and to be healthy”).39 These letters clearly demonstrate that the finite verb ἐπιστέλλε̄ or ἐπέστειλε completes the syntax of epistolary prescripts and that its omission in the prescript of later letters becomes a standard ellipsis. In addition to λέγει (“says”), therefore, supplying ἐπιστέλλε̄ (“sends”) or the aorist form (ἐπέστειλε) along with the cognate accusative ἐπιστολήν is possible in the Petrine prescript. The full form of the Petrine prescript would thus read, “Peter, Apostle of Jesus Christ, [sends a letter] to the chosen exiles of the Diaspora.”40 These two possibilities for resolving the lack of a finite verb in the Petrine prescript emphasize that Peter’s recipients hear him speaking to them through the letter he has sent to them just as the recipients of the Assembly letter hear the apostles speaking to them in that letter. Utilizing ethical argumentation, both letters communicate the legitimating apostolic voice to their recipients. In addition to its lacking a finite verb, the nominative Πέτρος ἀπόστολος furthers the ethical argument in yet another way. Again, Apollonius Dyscolus explains the oddity of an author’s use of a third person name as a self-reference rather than a more natural first person pronoun. He points out that without this third person nominative self-designation, the first person pronouns in the remainder of the letter would be deprived of a speaker and the identity of those pronouns 38 SEG 26.845.3; See M. Trapp, Greek and Latin Letters: An Anthology with Translation, Cambridge Greek and Latin Classics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 50–51. 39  W. Dittenberger, Sylloge inscriptionem graecarum, 4 vols. (Leipzig, 1915–19243), 3.1259; See Trapp, Letters, 50–51; Klauck, Ancient Letters, 19. 40 Such an ellipsis helps explain why the earliest reference to First Peter calls it an ἐπιστολή (2 Pet 3:1), even though this term is not explicitly stated in First Peter. Later designations of First Peter as a Diaspora Letter are thus also supported by completing the ellipsis in the Petrine prescript with the words ἐπέστειλε ἐπιστολήν. See J. Ramsey Michaels, 1 Peter, WBC 49 (Waco, TX: Word Books, 1988), xlvi and Troy W. Martin, Methaphor and Composition in First Peter, SBL 05 131 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), 46 no. 20. Completing the elliptical prescript in this way also explains why ἐπιστολή becomes the standard designation for this type of correspondence in the ancient world and especially in the New Testament (Acts 9:2; 15:30; 22:5; 23:25, 33; Rom 16:22; 1 Cor 5:9; 16:3; 2 Cor 3:1–3; 7:8; 10:9–11; Col 4:16; 1 Thes 5:27; 2 Thes 2:2, 15; 3:14, 17; 2 Pet 3:1, 16).

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could not be established.41 Since Peter is separated from his recipients, his epistolary prescript must begin by naming himself and them to provide antecedents for the first and second person pronouns used throughout the remainder of his letter. Apollonius’ explanation thus provides a way to see the link between the Petrine prescript and the letter-body closing in which Peter, Apostle of Jesus Christ, says, “I have written to you exhorting and witnessing that this grace of God is genuine; in which grace, stand [you stand]” (1 Pet. 5:12).42 Exhorting and witnessing express the action of Peter’s speaking throughout this letter, and his speaking confirms that the grace of God in which he urges his Gentile recipients to stand or in which they stand is genuine.43 Peter’s speaking confirms their standing as legitimate members of the people of God as these recipients hear from the beginning to the end of his letter the confirming and legitimating voice of Peter, Apostle of Jesus Christ. The Petrine prescript thus begins with a rhetorical argument from ethos to persuade its recipients of their legitimacy. Aristotle (Rhet. 1.2.3–5; 2.1.5–7) states that the goal of an ethos argument is to render the speaker worthy of belief (άξιόπιστος), and Peter’s credentials as Apostle of Jesus Christ make Peter and his letter worthy of belief.44 The recipients can trust this apostolic letter that he writes to them to legitimate their status as the chosen people of God. Similar to the Assembly letter, First Peter also uses ethical arguments to authorize Silvanus as its letter carrier. In 1 Pet 5:12, Peter reckons (λογίζομαι) him as a “trustworthy brother” (πιστοῦ ἀδελφοῦ). In the Pauline letter tradition, Paul calls his co-workers πιστός (“trustworthy”) “because they represent the gospel reliably in the Church.”45 Applied to Silvanus, this adjective designates him as Peter’s reliable co-worker authorized to carry this letter to its recipients. Peter’s reckoning of Silvanus as a “brother” also emphasizes his legitimate membership in the faith community and reinforces his reliability, and Peter’s use of the term λογίζομαι (“reckon”) does not diminish this assessment of Silvanus to mere personal opinion but characterizes this assessment as “a specific judgment of the apostle.”46 Achtemeier explains that Silvanus’ “reliability is reinforced with the phrase ὡς λογίζομαι (‘in my estimate’), here to be understood in the Pauline sense of giving an apostolic judgment that therefore does not relativize but strengthens Silvanus’ reliability.”47 Achtemeier concludes that Silvanus “brings with him apostolic approbation.”48 These ethical arguments establishing and emphasizing Silvanus as a trustworthy and reliable co-worker with Peter are essential for  Apollonius Dyscolus, De constructione 2.42.  Martin, Metaphor and Composition, 72–73 43 Ibid., 100–103. 44  Martin, “Invention and Arrangement,” 103. 45  Leonhard Goppelt, A Commentary on 1 Peter, ed. Ferdinand Hahn, trans. John E. Alsup (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 371. For examples, see 1 Cor 4:17; Eph 6:21; Col 4:7. 46  Goppelt, 1 Peter, 371–72. 47  Achtemeier, 1 Peter, 352. For examples, see 2 Cor 11:5; Rom 3:28; 8:18. 48 Ibid. 41 42

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maintaining an unbroken link in the transmission of Peter’s apostolic authority through this letter to its recipients, and First Peter thus shares this rhetorical similarity with the Assembly letter. 49 First Peter is also rhetorically similar to the Assembly letter in its logical argumentation with several enthymemes sharing the form of the single enthymeme in the Assembly letter that is expressed by the term ἀδελφοί (“brothers”). Although First Peter does not address its recipients with this term, it nevertheless refers to them with several other terms that traditionally apply to the legitimate people of God.50 For example, the Petrine prescript addresses the recipients as “chosen exiles” (ἐκλεκτοῖς παρεπιδήμοις) in 1 Pet 1:1.51 In response to the problem of legitimacy in a foreign land, Jewish writers frequently describe Jewish exiles as the chosen people of God. John J. Collins states, “It is true that nearly all the Diaspora literature assigns a special place to the covenantal people.”52 J. N. D. Kelly says, “Chosen was the epithet regularly used by the Jews to express their conviction that God had singled them out from all the nations to be His special people…. In Maccabean times and later the growing consciousness of living in a hostile environment strengthened this conviction.”53 Addressing its recipients as “chosen exiles,” therefore, the Petrine prescript expresses a truncated enthymeme similar to the one expressed by the title “brothers” in the prescript of the Assembly letter. This unpacked enthymeme reads as follows: (major premise) legitimate members of the people of God are called chosen exiles; (minor premise) Peter calls these recipients chosen exiles; (conclusion) the recipients are legitimate members of the people of God. In contrast to the Assembly letter, First Peter replicates this enthymeme with additional titles such as “obedient children” (1 Pet 1:14), “believers in God” (1:21), “chosen race” (2:9), “royal body of priests” (2:9), and “holy nation” (2:9). Also in contrast to the Assembly letter, First Peter explicitly states the conclusion of this enthymeme at least once in 1 Pet 2:10. Regardless of which title is used, this enthymeme responds to the rhetorical exigence of illegitimacy and argues for the legitimacy of these recipients whom the Apostle Peter now confirms as the people of God (1 Pet 2:10). Of course, First Peter also adds several other types of enthymemes and logical arguments not found in the much shorter Assembly letter, but this additional 49 Goppelt,

1 Peter, 369–70.  First Peter does however use cognate terms such as “brotherly love” (1 Pet 1:22) and “brotherhood” (1 Pet 2:17; 5:9). 51 The oxymoron “chosen exiles” thus introduces tension in the coupling of the honor of being chosen with the dishonor of being an exile. See Lewis R. Donelson, I & II Peter and Jude: A Commentary, The New Testament Library (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2010), 26. 52 John J. Collins, Between Athens and Jerusalem: Jewish Identity in the Hellenistic Diaspora (New York: Crossroad, 1983), 168. 53   J. N. D.  Kelly, A Commentary on the Epistles of Peter and Jude, Thornapple Commentaries (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1981), 40. 50

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logical argumentation also addresses the imperfection of the questionable status of its suffering Gentile recipients and thus attempts to resolve the imperfection addressed by First Peter. Where the rhetorical arguments of these two letters do overlap, therefore, both the ethical and logical arguments address a similar imperfection of the lack of legitimacy and attempt to remove such an exigence with similar rhetorical argumentative strategies.

IV. Conclusion In its purpose, First Peter closely resembles the letter (ἐπιστολή) sent to Gentile Christians after the Jerusalem Assembly (Acts 15:23–29), and both of these letters are sent or possibly written through the hand of (διὰ χειρός; Acts 15:22–23) or through (διὰ Σιλουανοῦ; 1 Pet 5:12) Silas, also known as Silvanus. These letters are addressed to different but contiguous areas of Asia Minor and share a similar rhetorical exigence and similar rhetorical arguments. Although the issue of illegitimacy that occasions these letters is somewhat different, both seek to legitimate their Gentile recipients. The letter from the Assembly as indeed the Assembly itself is occasioned by the perceived illegitimacy of uncircumcised Gentile believers in Antioch, Syria, and Cilicia while the illegitimacy in First Peter arises from a lack of clear apostolic confirmation for the believers in the rest of Asia Minor amid their persecution and suffering. Although active in areas to which the assembly letter and First Peter are sent, Paul is unable to substantiate the legitimacy of the brothers in these areas on his own. In contrast to Paul’s apostleship that is contested (e. g. 1 Cor 9:1–3), the apostleship of the twelve and especially of Peter is not since they received their commission from both the historical Jesus and the risen Lord in contrast to Paul, who can only claim the latter.54 The double legitimacy of the apostleship of the twelve legitimates the Gentile recipients of the Assembly letter just as Peter’s does for the recipients of First Peter. As a result of receiving these letters, these recipients in the contiguous areas of Asia Minor can now claim apostolic confirmation of their Christian standing. That legitimacy only comes as a result of the apostolic authorship and the reliable delivery of both these letters. Both letters thus employ similar ethical arguments for their senders and carriers and logical arguments for their recipients. Although these two letters are rarely compared because of surface differences in occasion and content, they nevertheless share a rhetorical deep structure that addresses a similar exigence of illegitimacy and that argues ethically and logically for the legitimacy of their respective recipients. 54  Reinhard Feldmeier, The First Letter of Peter: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2008), 50–51.

Fleshly Resurrection, Wifely Submission, and the Myth of the Primal Androgyne The Link between Luke 24:39 and Ephesians 5:30

Shelly Matthews In the midst of the directives aimed at wives and husbands within the Ephesian household code, the author of the epistle affirms: “we are members of [Christ’s] body” (μέλη ἐσμὲν τοῦ σώματος αὐτοῦ, 5:30). Some ancient witnesses contain an additional clause here: “ – of his flesh and of his bones” (ἐκ τῆς σαρκὸς αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐκ τῶν ὀστέων αὐτοῦ). Evidence for the shorter reading includes P46, ‫*א‬, A and B, while witnesses to the longer version include ‫א‬², D, the Peshitta and Irenaeus, among others. This longer reading is universally recognized as somehow connected to the direct citation of Gen 2:24 at Eph 5:31, “For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” As such, it is generally characterized as a paraphrase of Adam’s exclamation at Gen 2:23, “This now is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called woman, because she was taken out of her man” (τοῦτο νῦν

ὀστοῦν ἐκ τῶν ὀστέων μου, καὶ σὰρξ ἐκ τῆς σαρκός μου· αὕτη κληθήσεται γυνὴ, ὅτι ἐκ τοῦ ἀνδρὸς αὐτῆς ἐλήφθη).

That the allusion to Genesis must be characterized as a loose paraphrase owes in part to the fact that the order of the substances is reversed (in Genesis, first bone, then flesh; in Ephesians, first flesh, then bone). More significantly, while in Genesis the bone and flesh spoken of by Adam is the wife taken out of his (the husband’s) body, the longer reading of Eph 5:30 marks out the church as the flesh-and-bone body of Christ. Scholars have been at a loss to explain how the church might be understood as Christ’s body in such starkly material terms. Thus, while some make the case for the longer reading, on the principle of lectio difficilior, most commentators point to the impressive manuscript evidence for the shorter reading, and dismiss the longer reading as an incomprehensible scribal gloss.1 1 Those justifying the longer reading as original include Harold Hoehner (Ephesians: An Exegetical Commentary [Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2002], 768–70), who suggests that the verse underscores the reason Christ “nurtures and takes tender care of the church.”(770); and Peter R. Rodgers (“The Allusion to Genesis 2:23 at Ephesians 5:30,” JTS 2/41.1 [1990]: 92–94), who

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While this paper is not driven by the insistence that the longer reading is original, it aims to clarify the logic of this reading that refers to Christ’s flesh and bone. While Gen 2:24 is also an intertext for the longer reading of Eph 5:30, we propose here that an equally important text serving to elucidate the phrase is Luke 24:39b. In this verse the Lukan Jesus, standing before his apostles in his resurrected state, asserts: “Touch me and see; for a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have” (ψηλαφήσατέ με καὶ ἴδετε, ὅτι πνεῦμα σάρκα καὶ ὀστέα οὐκ ἔχει καθὼς ἐμὲ θεωρεῖτε ἔχοντα). Though Irenaeus’s own citation of the longer reading of Eph 5:30 is followed immediately by a paraphrase of Luke 24:39b, to my knowledge modern scholarship up until now has not recognized a connection between these two scriptural passages.2 Acknowledging the connection may help to account for the word order, since both Luke 24:39 and Eph 5:30 place “flesh” first and then “bone.” Most importantly, it elucidates the fact that Eph 5:30 pertains to the body of Christ, and not of Adam. For the author of the longer reading, the insistence that the body of Christ is a body of flesh and bone logically aligns with the argument for wifely submission, since both arguments are made in the interest of affirming social hierarchy, and, more particularly, gender hierarchy. This argument is influenced in part by the increasing interest among text-critical scholars to consider variant witnesses, not merely for the purpose of establishing the original reading, but also to enrich our understanding of the literary and social worlds in which they were copied, revised, corrected and argues that the phrase somehow communicates the self-sacrifice of Christ, which should be imitated by the husband in relation to his wife. Consider also the summary of proposals for interpretation of the longer reading of 5:30 in John Eadie, Commentary on the Epistle to the Ephesians Classic Commentary Library (repr. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1955), 427–34. Nestle-Aland Novum Testamentum Graece, 28th ed. regards the shorter reading as original. See also Bruce Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament (Stuttgart: German Bible Society, 1971), 609, and the commentaries listed in note 2. 2 “Even as the blessed Paul declares in his Epistle to the Ephesians, that ‘we are members of his body, of His flesh, and of His bones.’ He does not speak these words of some spiritual and invisible man, for a spirit has not bones or flesh” (Irenaeus, Haer. 5.2.3 [Roberts-Donaldson], my emphasis). To be sure, Irenaeus references these two passages from Ephesians and Luke in an argument linking the flesh of Christ to the nourishment of the eucharist, and does not make explicit the connection between them proposed here. Commentaries linking Gen 2:23 to Eph 5:30, while taking no account of Luke 24:39b, include Eadie, Ephesians, 425–429; Metzger, Textual Commentary, 609; Rudolf Schnackenburg, Der Brief an die Epheser, EKKNT 10 (Zurich: Benzinger; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1982), 259; Andrew T. Lincoln, Ephesians, WBC 42 (Dallas, TX: Word, 1990), 351; Margaret Y. MacDonald, Colossians and Ephesians, SP 17 (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical, 2000), 330; JeanNoël Aletti, Saint Paul Épître aux Éphésiens: Introduction, traduction et commentaire, EBib ns 42 (Paris: Gabalda, 2001), 284; Hoehner, Ephesians 769–70; Ben Witherington III, The Letters to Philemon, the Colossians, and the Ephesians: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on the Captivity Epistles (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2007), 332; Stephen E. Fowl, Ephesians: A Commentary, NTL (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2012), 184.

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expanded. 3 That is, even if the longer reading at 5:30 is not original, we may value it for its insights into how the “living text” of the epistle to the Ephesians was understood by a wide swath of early Christians who preserved the variant reading, including, for instance, communities reading with so influential a figure as Irenaeus. This argument is inspired foremost by the work of Richard Pervo, in whose honor it is written. Pervo’s arguments for dating the Acts of the Apostles to the second century are a watershed moment in New Testament and early Christian studies, inviting scholars to reconsider a number of presumed relationships between early Christian texts, authors, and communities – from the question of whether the author of Acts had access to the epistles of Paul,4 or the substance of Pliny’s letter to Trajan,5 or the political program inaugurated through Hadrian’s Panhellenion,6 or the text of the Gospel used by Marcion, to the question of the entire process of canon formation. It raises further questions about the final redaction of canonical Luke, which has been recognized by a number of recent scholars as having likely reached its final form in a second century context.7 I am grateful now to have the opportunity to consider a new connection between Lu3  For this trend to merge text-critical and social world studies, consider, for instance, Bart Ehrman, The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture: The Effect of Early Christological Controversies on the Text of the New Testament (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996); David Parker, The Living Text of the Gospels (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); Jennifer W. Knust, “Early Christian Re-Writing and the History of the Pericope Adulterae,” JECS 14 (2006): 485–536. 4  Pervo, Dating Acts: Between the Evangelists and the Apologists (Santa Rosa, CA: Polebridge, 2006), 51–147; Lars Aejmelaeus, “The Pauline Letters as Source material in Luke-Acts,” in The Early Reception of Paul, ed. Kenneth Liljeström (Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, 2011), 54–75; Heikki Leppä, “Luke’s Selective Use of Gal 1 and 2: A Critical Proposal,” in The Early Reception of Paul, ed. Kenneth Liljeström (Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, 2011), 91–124; Ryan Schellenberg, “The First Pauline Chronologist? Paul’s Itinerary in the Letters and in Acts,” JBL 134 (2015): 193–213. 5 Mark G. Bilby, “Pliny’s Correspondence and the Acts of the Apostles: An Intertextual Relationship?” and Thomas E. Phillips, “How did Paul Become a Roman ‘Citizen?’” in Luke on Jesus, Paul, and Earliest Christianity: What Did He Really Know?, ed. Joseph Verheyden and John S. Kloppenborg, Biblical Tools and Studies 29 (Leuven: Peeters, 2017), 147–69 and 171–89, respectively. 6  Laura Nasrallah, “The Acts of the Apostles, Greek Cities, and Hadrian’s Panhellenion,” JBL 127 (2008): 533–66. 7 On issues of text, canon, and the relationship of Marcion’s Gospel to Lukan materials, see Joseph Tyson, Marcion and Luke-Acts: A Defining Struggle (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 2006); Matthias Klinghardt, “Markion vs. Lukas: Plädoyer für die Wiederaufnahme eines alten Falles,” NTS 52 (2006): 484–513; idem, “The Marcionite Gospel and the Synoptic Problem: A New Suggestions,” NT 50 (2008): 1–27; idem, Das älteste Evangelium und die Entstehung der kanonischen Evangelien, 2 vols., TANZ 60 (Tübingen: Francke, 2015); Jason D. BeDuhn, The First New Testament: Marcion’s Scriptural Canon (Salem Oregon: Polebridge, 2013); Shelly Matthews, “Does Dating Luke-Acts into the Second Century Affect the Q Hypothesis?” Gospel Interpretation and the Q Hypothesis, ed. Heike Omerzu and Mogens Müller (London: Bloomsbury Academic, forthcoming).

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kan materials and the “Paul” who is constructed in the pseudepigraphon known as Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, in recognition that Pervo’s scholarship on Acts is closely aligned with his attempts to understand the competing portraits of Paul that develop after his death.8

I. Flesh, bone, hierarchy: concerning the resurrected Jesus Of the canonical gospel authors, Luke is most explicit in thematizing the resurrected body of Jesus. Luke names the substances of the resurrected Jesus as “flesh and bone” in Luke 24:39, adding further proof of this substance through the narrative of Jesus’ eating fish at 24:43. Twice in Acts further reference is made to the fleshly nature of the resurrected body, through the cipher of the resurrected Jesus eating with his apostles (Acts 1:4;9 10:41). In addition, the inaugural speeches of both Peter and Paul describe Jesus’ resurrected body as not having known corruption, which may also be understood as assertions of the continuity of the body’s fleshliness (2:31: “his flesh did not know corruption;” 13:37: “the one whom God raised did not know corruption”). As I have argued more fully elsewhere, closely interwoven with each of these five invocations of the resurrected Jesus’ fleshly body in these Lukan materials is the assertion of the exclusive authority of the (eleven, then twelve) male apostles, as witnesses to that resurrection. Furthermore, closely associated with the assertion of the exclusive authority of the twelve male apostles for Luke is the devaluing of traditions in which the resurrected Jesus appears first to women, along with the concomitant redaction of traditions concerning women leaders in the Jesus movement in the direction of subordination and silence.10 Through this argument pertaining to Lukan materials, my work is positioned among scholarship recognizing that assertions of Christ’s fleshly resurrection are sometimes tied in early Christian literature to exclusive apostolic claims and hierarchical models of ecclesial leadership. This is, for instance, the view articulated in classic arguments by Elaine Pagels pertaining to orthodox Christians, on the one hand, who both championed apostolic succession and insisted that Jesus rose in the flesh; and gnostic groups, on the other, whose valuation of visionary experiences of the risen Christ led to a central role for Mary Magdalene as leader and teacher.11  8  I assume, with Richard Pervo, that Ephesians is pseudonymous. See his The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2010), 71–77.  9  Here reading συναλιζόμενος, “he who shared the salt,” as participation in table fellowship. 10  For this argument in full, see Shelly Matthews, “Fleshly Resurrection, Authority Claims, and the Scriptural Practices of Lukan Christianity,” JBL 136 (2017): 163–83. 11  Elaine Pagels, “Visions, Appearances and Apostolic Authority: Gnostic and Orthodox Traditions,” in Gnosis: Festschrift fur Hans Jonas, ed. Barbara Aland (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht,1978), 415–30; eadem, The Gnostic Gospels (New York: Random House, 1979),

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Connections between fleshly resurrection, exclusive privilege of the apostles and social hierarchy have also been recognized by Daniel Smith in the writings of Ignatius.12 Ignatius, Smyrneans 3 is often studied for the saying it attributes to the resurrected Jesus, inviting the apostles to “touch and to see” that he has a palpable body, a saying related to Luke 24:39.13 But for purposes of the argument here, more important is Ignatius’s subsequent reflection in which the union of the apostles with the resurrected Jesus is described as a mixing [κραθέντες] of flesh and spirit: And immediately they touched him and believed, having been intermixed with his flesh and spirit … . And after his resurrection he ate and drank with them as a fleshly being, even though he was spiritually united with the Father (καὶ εὐθὺς αὐτοῦ ἥψαντο καὶ ἐπίστευσαν, κραθέντες τῇ σαρκὶ αὐτοῦ καὶ τῷ πνεύματι … Μετὰ δὲ τὴν ἀνάστασιν συνέφαγεν αὐτοῖς καὶ συνέπιεν ὡς σαρκικός, καίπερ πνευματικῶς ἡνωμένος τῷ πατρί,. Smyr. 3.2–3 [Ehrman, LCL]).

In this passage, the intermixing of spirit and flesh, a process involving touching and then eating with the resurrected Jesus, marks the apostles as having privileged union with Jesus. The social hierarchy established because of this unity is more clearly elaborated in Ignatius’ letter to the Magnesians: Be submissive to the bishop and to one another – as Jesus Christ was to the Father, according to the flesh, and as the apostles were to Christ and to the Father and to the Spirit – so that the union might be both fleshly and spiritual (Magn. 13.2 [Ὑποτάγητε τῷ ἐπισκόπῳ

καὶ ἀλλήλοις, ὡς Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς τῷ πατρὶ κατὰ σάρκα καὶ οἱ ἀπόστολοι τῷ Χριστῷ καὶ τῷ πατρὶ καὶ τῷ πνεύματι, ἵνα ἕνωσις ᾖ σαρκική τε καὶ πνευματική, Ehrman, LCL, slightly modified]).14

As Smith argues: “For Ignatius, there is a fleshly component to the spiritual union that is the basis of the ecclesial hierarchy; this fleshly-spiritual union between the congregation and its overseer originates in the fleshly-spiritual union between the resurrected Jesus and the apostles.”15 3–32. Following Pagels, John Gager situated fleshly resurrection claims within a Durkheimian structural-functionalist framework to argue that in early Christian communities belief in future but indefinite, bodily resurrection, correlated with Christians rising in the hegemonic social order and becoming more at home in this world. John G. Gager, “Body-Symbols and Social Reality: Resurrection, Incarnation and Asceticism in Early Christianity,” Religion 12 (1982): 345–63. This view is challenged by Carolyn Walker Bynum, in The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity, 200–1336 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995), 108–114. I navigate this debate by arguing that the connection between fleshly resurrection and hierarchy appears specifically in the sources considered here, without making more general claims about the relevance of solidifying social hierarchies to other early Christian debates concerning the flesh. 12 Daniel A. Smith, “Marcion’s Gospel and the Resurrected Jesus of Canonical Luke 24,” ZAC 21 (2017): 41–62. 13  Helmut Koester, Synoptische Überlieferung bei den apostolischen Vätern, TU 65 5th series 10 (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1957), 50–56. François Bovon, Luke 3: A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke 19:28–24:53, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 388–89. 14  Cf. also Eph. 5.1, Magn. 1.2; Rom. pr. 1; Smyrn. 1.1. 15 Smith, “Marcion’s Gospel, 58.”

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To these passages pertaining to Ignatius’s employment of the fleshly-spiritual union as the basis of ecclesial hierarchy, we might add a further reference pertaining specifically to household hierarchy. Consider this passage from Ignatius’ letter to Polycarp, which invokes the flesh-spirit union in the context of marriage, while also citing Ephesians 5:25, 29: Instruct my sisters to love the Lord and to be satisfied with their husbands in flesh and spirit [τοῖς συμβίος ἀρκεῖσθαι σαρκί καὶ πνεύματι]. So too enjoin my brothers in the name of Jesus Christ to love their wives as the Lord loves the church” (Poly. 5.1 [Ehrman, LCL]).

Having identified passages in which the link is made between Jesus’ fleshly resurrection and social hierarchy in the Gospel of Luke and the letters of Ignatius; and positing further that the longer reading of Eph 5:30 might also be explained according to this hierarchical impulse, we turn now to elucidating the logic of this connection. Why do assertions that Jesus rose in the flesh come to be associated in these texts with kyriarchal ecclesial and household leadership structures?16 It will be argued below that answers to this question may be found through considering the role of the “myth of the primal androgyne,” in early Christian social formation. In order to lay the ground for this argument, we turn first to the pre-Pauline baptismal formula preserved at Gal 3:28.

II. Galatians 3:28 and early Christian utopian striving It is widely recognized that the proclamation at Gal 3:28 – “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” – bears witness to a pre-Pauline baptismal formula reflecting an early understanding among Jesus believers that markers of social identity along the axes of ethnicity / ​race, social class, and gender are somehow altered through baptism.17 Working through the thicket of scholarship on the significance of the formula, we stake the following position here: 16 I adopt the neologism kyriarchy, literally “the rule of the master,” introduced by Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, as a better term for theorizing domination than patriarchy. As she explains, this word better underscores that “domination is not simply a matter of patriarchal, gender-based dualism, but of more comprehensive, interlocking, hierarchically ordered structures.” See, Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Rhetoric and Ethic: The Politics of Biblical Studies (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), ix. 17  Key scholarly contributions, working from the position that the formula is pre-Pauline, include those of Wayne A. Meeks, “The Image of the Androgyne: Some Uses of a Symbol in Earliest Christianity,” Journal of the History of Religions 13 (1973): 165–208; Hans Dieter Betz, Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia, Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 181–85; Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (New York: Crossroad, 1983), 205–41; Dennis Ronald Macdonald, There is no Male and Female: The Fate of a Dominical Saying in Paul and Gnosticism, HDR 20 (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987); Antoinette Clark Wire, The Corinthian

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First, Paul’s own invocation of the formula in Galatians owes to his primary concern with the implications of baptism into Christ for relations among Jews and Gentiles in the Galatian ekklēsia. Thus, the first of the binaries in the formula – there is no Jew and Greek – drives toward his acclamation in 3:29 that, through Christ, Gentiles have become the seed of Abraham. As Denise Buell and Johnson Hodge recognize, for Paul being “in” Christ is no “mere” metaphor for altered kinship ties. They write: [W]ith this language, Paul calls upon a widespread understanding of the relationship between ancestors and descendants in antiquity: offspring are contained in their forebears, whether in their seed or womb or some other way… . In the same way that descendants share the same “stuff” as their ancestors, gentiles are “of Christ,” – they have taken in his pneuma – so that he can serve as a link for them to the lineage of Abraham.18

That is, Paul invokes the baptismal formula in his letter to the Galatians in the service of his argument that baptism into Christ brings Gentiles into a new ethno-racial relationship with Jews, in a way that is more substantive and literal than is usually supposed. Second, while Paul himself finds the proclamation pertaining to ethnicity useful to his arguments about the relationship between Jew and Gentile in Galatia, Women Prophets: A Reconstruction through Paul’s Rhetoric (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990), 118–28; Sheila Briggs, “Slavery and Gender,” in On the Cutting Edge: The Study of the Women in Biblical Worlds, Essays in Honor of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, ed. Jane Schaberg, Alice Bach and Esther Fuchs (New York: Continuum, 2004), 171–92. Schüssler Fiorenza’s well-known position that the pre-Pauline formula is central to the anti-kyriarchal utopian impulse in the Jesus movement has been continually elaborated and refined. See for instance, Rhetoric and Ethic, 149–73; eadem, “Slave Wo / ​men and Freedom: Some Methodological Reflections,” in Postcolonial Interventions: Essays in Honor of R. S. Sugirtharajah, ed. Tat-siong Benny Liew (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2009), 123–45. For an important discussion of Gal 3:28 and intersectionality, see Marianne Bjelland Kartzow, “Asking the Other Question”: An Intersectional Approach to Galatians 3:28 and the Colossian Household Codes,” BI 18 (2010): 364–89; for a recent discussion of the formula from the perspective of empire studies, see Davina C. Lopez, Apostle to the Conquered: Reimagining Paul’s Mission, Paul in Critical Contexts (Minneapolis, Fortress, 2010), 149–52. For a recent argument that Gal 3:28 is not pre-Pauline, see Bernard C. Lategan, Reconsidering the Origin and Function of Galatians 3:28,” Neotestamentica 46 (2012): 274–86. 18 Denise Kimber Buell and Caroline Johnson Hodge, “The Politics of Interpretation: the Rhetoric of Race and Ethnicity in Paul,” JBL 123 (2004): 235–51, esp. 246–47. Many of the scholars associated with the movement to understand Paul within Judaism have adopted the position that Paul’s arguments about Gentile’s altered ethnicity should be recognized as having a material thrust. See for example, Pamela Eisenbaum, “Jewish Perspectives: A Jewish Apostle to the Gentiles,” in Studying Paul’s Letters: Contemporary Perspectives and Methods, ed. Joseph A. Marchal (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012), 135–53, esp. 143–49; Carolina Johnson Hodge, If Sons, Then Heirs: A Study of Kinship and Ethnicity in the Letters of Paul (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007); Stanley Stowers, A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews and Gentiles (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994). For recent critique of the scholarly tendency to dissociate metaphorical thinking from materialism in Paul, from the perspective of cognitive linguistics, see Frederick Tappenden, Resurrection in Paul: Cognition, Metaphor and Transformation, ECL 19 (Atlanta: SBL, 2016), 8–41.

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he himself does not embrace the principle of radical social equality in Christ with respect to ethnicity, status, and gender in any thorough-going or consistent way. Thus, as Buell and Johnson-Hodge note with respect to ethnicity, Paul does not imagine an erasure of all power differences between Jew and Greek. Rather, he assumes a hierarchy in which Gentiles stand in a relationship before God that is “less secure” than that between the Jews and God.19 As Sheila Briggs has pointed out, while Paul may approach the issue of the vulnerability of the slave to physical torture in his letter to the Philemon, neither in this letter, nor in any portion of his correspondence does Paul challenge the institution of slavery or “explicitly trespass on what he and his society understood as the prerogative of a slave owner.”20 As but one instance of Paul’s embrace of gender hierarchy, consider his tortuous arguments concerning women’s head coverings in 1 Cor 11:2–16. That veiling is deemed necessary “because of the angels,” (v. 11:10b) suggests that for Paul gender subordination owes to the circumstances of the current moment, and might no longer hold, in a future, eschatological state.21 Still, it is clear that in Paul’s understanding of the current moment – which for him is pre-eschatological  – gender hierarchy is part of the divinely ordained cosmic order (as is made clear in 1 Cor 11:3). Third, ascertaining Paul’s position on the question of whether and, if so how, baptism into Christ reorders power relations within assemblies of the baptized should not be an end in itself for biblical scholars concerned to reconstruct the history of the early Christian assemblies. Because Paul is engaging in what Anna Miller has called ekklēsia discourse, a discourse which is communal, and predicated on active deliberation and debate among participants within these democratic assemblies, it follows that Paul’s voice is but one of many, rather than the only voice, attempting to work out the implications of the baptismal formula.22  Buell and Johnson Hodge, “Politics of Interpretation,” 248–50.  Sheila Briggs, “Paul on Bondage and Freedom in Imperial Roman Society,” in Paul and Politics: Ekklesia, Israel, Imperium, Interpretation, Essays in Honor of Krister Stendahl, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2000), 110–23, here 117. 21  Jason David BeDuhn, “‘Because of the Angels’: Unveiling Paul’s Anthropology in 1 Corinthians 11,” JBL 118 (1999): 295–320. 22 Anna Miller, Corinthian Democracy: Democratic Discourse in 1 Corinthians, Princeton Theological Monograph Series (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2015). This monograph is a revision of a dissertation written under Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, who has been on the forefront of pressing for a shift toward understanding Pauline texts rhetorically, and therefore as sites of tension and contestation, from which multiple perspectives might be discerned. See, for instance, In Memory of Her; Rhetoric and Ethic, 149–73; “Slave Wo / ​men and Freedom,” 123–45; “Paul and the Politics of Interpretation,” in Paul and Politics: Ekklesia, Israel, Imperium, Interpretation, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2000), 40–51. Other important voices in the movement to decenter Paul in historical reconstruction of first century ekklēsiai include Melanie Johnson-DeBaufre and Laura S. Nasrallah, “Beyond the Heroic Paul: Toward a Feminist and Decolonizing Approach to the Letters of Paul,” in The Colonized Apostle: Paul Through Postcolonial Eyes, ed. Christopher D. Stanley (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2011), 161–74; Wire, Corinthian Women Prophets; Cynthia Briggs Kittredge, “Re19 20

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Recognizing Paul’s position as but one of many within the Christ-assemblies allows for the decoupling of the question of egalitarian strivings from the question of Paul’s own ambivalence concerning egalitarianism. As Sheila Briggs has captured this approach and its implications for historical reconstruction, with respect to Paul and other New Testament authors: If we have shifted the terms of historical inquiry from whether the New Testament authors could envisage social egalitarianism to how they were able to resist its becoming part of their discourse, then we can search for the silent residues of that which they refused, the ghostly remnants of what they rendered unthinkable and therefore preserved as an invisible shadow of their own thought.23

Employing this wider lens to read the Pauline epistles for signs of “these ghostly remnants,” in the form of counter arguments and competing proposals has produced historical reconstructions moving beyond the mind of Paul himself. From this perspective, it becomes evident that in the Corinthian assembly the women who prayed and prophesied with uncovered heads understood the dissolution of gender hierarchy to have taken place, already, in their baptism.24 Such understanding of equality at baptism also helps to account for the many women leaders greeted in Romans 16, as well as the leadership of Euodia and Syntyche in the assembly in Philippi. It further explains why slaves in Corinthian assemblies might have expected assistance from the free and freedpersons within these assemblies in finding opportunities for their own freedom; it allows for the posing of the question of what Onesimus himself might have hoped for in response to the exhortation that he be received as “more than a slave,” in the assembly that gathered in the house of Philemon, Apphia and Archippus.25 thinking Authorship in the Letters of Paul: Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza’s Model of Pauline Theology,” in Walk in the Ways of Wisdom: Essays in Honor of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, ed. Shelly Matthews, Cynthia Briggs Kittredge, and Melanie Johnson-DeBaufre (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2003), 318–33. Cf. also arguments framing Paul as a “plural subject” or “collective author” in Elsa Tamez, The Amnesty of Grace: Justification by Faith from a Latin American Perspective, trans. Sharon H. Ringe (Nashville: Abingdon, 1993), 48–49; Luise Schottroff, “Auf dem Weg zu einer feministischen Rekonstruktion der Geschichte des frühen Christentums,” in Feministische Exegese: Forschungserträge zur Bibel aus der Perspektive von Frauen, ed. Silvia Schroer and Marie-Theres Wacker (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 1995), 207; and Joseph Marchal, ed., The People beside Paul: The Philippian Assembly and History from Below, ECL 17 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015). 23 Sheila Briggs, “Slavery and Gender,” 175–76. 24  See here especially Antoinette Wire, Corinthian Women Prophets, 116–34. Compare also Miller, Corinthian Democracy, 90–114; Shelly Matthews “A Feminist Analysis of the Veiling Passage (1 Corinthians 11:2–16): Who really cares that Paul was not a Gender Egalitarian after all?” Lectio Difficilior 2 (2015).  http://lectio.unibe.ch / ​. To be sure, this insight concerning a realized eschatology as a motive for unveiling predates the feminist work cited here, but the distinctly feminist contribution has been to imagine the Corinthian women sympathetically, rather than to dismiss their understanding as “libertine,” “gnostic,” “enthusiast,” and the like. 25  On this question, consider Demetrius K. Williams, “‘No longer as a Slave’: Reading the Interpretation History of Paul’s Epistle to Philemon,” in Onesimus Our Brother: Reading Re-

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Fourth, the search for early Christian assemblies which interpreted the Jesus event as leveling hierarchical social relations should not be limited to the earliest two or three decades of the movement, as if the egalitarian strivings of some Jesus believers were a phenomenon to be explained only in terms of pure, fleeting utopian origins. Rather, in the same way that Paul’s non-disputed epistles can be read as sites of struggle and contestation over the implication of the Christ event for the reordering of power, so also can post-Pauline early Christian texts. Though it is impossible here to provide an exhaustive list of case studies to support this principle, consider the following examples: As one sign of the struggle to resist hierarchical social relations in Christ groups beyond the first generation of the movement with regard to slavery, Angela Standhartinger points to the letter to the Colossians. Reading the household code of Colossians against the grain, she finds its hierarchical oikos-philosophy undone by exhortations regarding inheritance, partiality (προσωπολημψία) and equality (ἰσότης).26 That slaves in the Christ community in Smyrna desired freedom is suggested by Ignatius’ exhortation that this desire not be accommodated through use of the common treasury (Pol. 4.3). Numerous scholars have pointed to the Acts of Thecla and its gender-bending protagonist as a text that disrupts traditional gender hierarchy, and that might be traced back to a community reading the Pauline epistles in the direction of asceticism and egalitarianism.27 That Gal 3:28 was read in support of women’s ecclesial leadership even into the 4th century is evident from Epiphanius’ ridicule of this practice among “the Quintillianists.”28 From this position that egalitarian struggles were inspired by the baptismal formula in decades, and even centuries beyond Paul, we turn now to focusing specifically on Gal 3:28c, and the gender binary male-and-female, raising questions related to this verse and what we refer to here as the myth of the primal androgyne.

ligion, Race and Culture in Philemon, ed. Matthew V. Johnson, James A. Noel and Demetrius K. Williams (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 11–45. 26  Angela Standhartinger, “The Origin and Intention of the Household Code in the Letter to the Colossians,” JSNT 79 (2000): 117–130. Standhartinger also notes that each of these three exhortations is suppressed in the epistle to the Ephesians, a redactional tendency that conforms to the assessment of Ephesians made below. 27 See, for example, Dennis MacDonald, The Legend and the Apostle: the Battle for Paul in Story and Canon (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1983); Shelly Matthews, “Thinking of Thecla: Issues in Feminist Historiography,” JFSR 17 (2001): 39–55. For recent discussion and bibliography see Diane Lipsett, Desiring Conversion: Hermas, Thecla, Aseneth (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 54–85. 28  Pan 49.2.5 [Williams]: “They have woman bishops, presbyters and the rest; they say that none of this makes any difference because ‘In Christ Jesus there is neither male nor female.’”

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III. Gender and Spirit in the myth of the primal androgyne The phrase at Gal 3:28c “there is no male and female (οὐκ ἔνι ἄρσεν καὶ θῆλυ)” alludes to the first creation account in Genesis, where God makes the human creature (Gk: anthropos) in his image, male and female (ἄρσεν καὶ θῆλυ, Gen 1:27; cf. also Gen 5:1b–2). Through the negation οὐκ ἔνι, the passage shares with a number of early Christian texts the view that Christ has somehow disrupted the binary gender division established in creation.29 Scholarship on the question of whether this proclamation affected social practice within the Christ-assemblies may be divided roughly into two camps. On the one hand are scholars who argue that “there is no male and female,” should be understood in relation to a widespread Hellenistic Jewish exegetical tradition that the creature of Genesis 1 is unitary and androgynous – male-andfemale – and hence of a radically different nature than the creature(s) of Genesis 2.30 In this Platonically influenced, Hellenistic Jewish exegesis of Genesis 1–2, the first adam / ​anthropos belongs to the spiritual realm, existing in a bodiless, pre-gendered, and immortal state. Only in the subsequent narrative in Genesis 2 is a second type of creature formed out of clay, and marked as possessing body, gender and mortality. Within Hellenistic Jewish sources, the fullest accounting of this primal myth of the androgyne comes to us through the writings of Philo: After this [Moses’s] says that “God formed the human [τὸν ἄνθρωπον] by taking clay from the earth, and breathed into his face the breath of life” (Gen 2:7). By this also he shows very clearly that there is a vast difference between the human [τοῦ ἀνθρώπου] thus formed and the one that came into existence earlier after the image of God: for the one so formed is an object of sense-perception, partaking already of a certain quality, consisting of body and soul, man or woman [ἀνὴρ ἢ γυνή], by nature mortal; while the one that was after the (Divine) image was an idea or type or seal, an object of thought (only), incorporeal, neither male nor female (οὔτ’ ἄρρεν οὔτε θῆλυ) by nature incorruptible [Opif. 134 trans. LCL, slightly modified. Cf. also Leg. All.. 1.31–32].

This basic contrast between two creatures, one of spirit, and the other molded from the earth, seems also to inform the musings of Paul himself with respect 29  Of special note here are three texts preserving “there is no male nor female” as a teaching of Jesus, including Gospel of Thomas 22, 2 Clement 12:1–2, and the Gospel of the Egyptians 5 (=Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 3.92.2). For analysis of the earliest form of this saying, its modification and reception, see MacDonald, No Male and Female. 30 These scholars build on the work of Thomas H. Tobin, The Creation of Man: Philo and the History of Interpretation, CBQMS 14 (Washington, D. C.: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1983). MacDonald helpfully contextualizes this Hellenistic Jewish understanding within broader Greek anthropogonies which can be traced back to the pre-Socratics, No Male and Female, 23–30. Consider also Daniel Boyarin, A Radical Jew: Paul and the Politics of Identity, Contraversions 1 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 180–200, discussed further below.

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to the resurrection at 1 Corinthians 15:49: “and as we have borne the image of clay, so also we shall bear the image of heaven (καὶ καθὼς ἐφορέσαμεν τὴν εἰκόνα τοῦ χοϊκοῦ, φορέσομεν καὶ τὴν εἰκόνα τοῦ ἐπουρανίου).” Further, Paul’s argument in 1 Cor 11:10 that the subordination of women owes to the “angels” suggests that Paul holds to the view that this second creation from clay, in which gender distinctions are made, was carried out by God’s intermediaries – the angels – rather than God himself.31 Scholars linking this myth to the baptismal formula imagine that early Jesus believers, reflecting on the Genesis stories on the one hand, and the Christ event on the other, understand Jesus / ​ho kyrios as having opened the door for his followers to experience this prelapsarian state. But because the prelapsarian state has been traditionally associated with renouncing and transcending the material world, those who embraced the myth of the primal androgyne are sometimes characterized in this scholarship as apolitical and escapist. Typically, this escapist stance toward the world has been labelled as Christian Gnosticism.32 Included among those who reject the suggestion that the myth of the primal androgyne informs the baptismal formula are leading feminist biblical scholars Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza and Antoinette Wire. While arguing that the baptismal formula was understood to have social consequences in the Christ assemblies, they resist the argument that “no male or female” invokes the primal androgyne. Instead of linking “no male or female” to the myth of the creation of two different types of creatures in two different steps, via a Platonic / ​Philonic division between spirit and flesh, Schüssler Fiorenza, has argued that the “male and female,” of Gen 1:27 pertains to procreation and marriage and that Gal 3:28c is thus an announcement of the abolishment of patriarchal marriage.33 Similarly, Wire acknowledges Jewish and later Christian speculation about an androgynous first creation but cautions that it may be “overinterpreting this text to read that 31 BeDuhn,

“Because of the Angels,” esp. 308–13. Wayne Meeks (“Image of the Androgyne,” pp. 207–08) concludes: “Paul recognized in the gnostic appropriation of the reunification symbols [in Corinth] an implicit rejection of the created order… . Dissolving – or failing ever to understand – Paul’s eschatological tension, the spirituals abandoned world and community for the sake of subjective transcendence.” Compare MacDonald, No Male and Female, 50–63, 128. Emphasizing that ancient notions of androgyny were androcentric, both Lone Fatum and Dale Martin are particularly adamant that no egalitarian impulse could have been drawn Gal 3:28. See Lone Fatum, “Image of God and Glory of Man: Women in the Pauline Congregations,” in The Image of God and Gender Models in Judeo-Christian Tradition, ed. Kari Elisabeth Børresen (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 50–133; Dale Martin, “The Queer History of Galatians 3:28: ‘No Male and Female,’” in Sex and the Single Savior: Gender and Sexuality in Biblical Interpretation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006), 77–90; originally published as “‘Ikke mannlig og kvinnelig’: Likestilling, androgyny og kjønnosverskridelse hos Paulus” in Naturlig sex? Seksualitet og kjønn I den kristne antikken, ed. Halvor Moxnes, Jostein Børtnes and Dag Østein Endsojø (Oslo: Gyldendal, 2002), 99–125. 33 Rhetoric and Ethic, 149–73; compare Miller, Corinthian Democracy, 140–43. 32 Thus,

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God’s image in Christ, which is not male and female, is both male and female.” She then goes on to suggest that Gal 3:28 as a whole “was understood to mean overcoming in Christ a division cutting across the whole of society, which privileged one group at the expense of another.”34 In short, Schüssler Fiorenza and Wire have been reluctant to see exegetical speculation on the myth of the primal androgyne at the heart of the quarrel in Christ-assemblies, because this myth is most often associated with gnostic quietism. While in broad agreement with feminist scholarship which sees the pre-Pauline baptismal formula as having social effects in the ekklēsia, I challenge here the particular argument that social-political readings of Gal 3:28 need be divorced from readings of Genesis 1 and 2 in terms of the primal androgyne myth for the following reasons: First, knowledge of the myth seems to be widely available among early Christian communities, from Egypt to Syria, as well as in the regions more typically associated with the Pauline School.35 Further, the practices of ancient communities embracing the egalitarian potential of the formula – in so far as they can be reconstructed  – map quite readily onto elements of the myth. That is, in the historical reconstructions of the Corinthian assembly by both Schüssler Fiorenza and Wire, along with scholarship on communities responsible for circulating the Acts of Thecla, and on other early Christian texts in which gender hierarchies are challenged, arguments for the reordering of power in the direction of equality are predicated on having received the Spirit of Christ. The embrace of the Spirit as impetus for the reordering of power is consonant with the affirmation that the first adam / ​anthropos is a spirit-creature, and that gender hierarchy is the consequence of the fallen state of the fleshly creature in Genesis 2. Finally, in the Corinthian community of the first century, as well as in other early Christian communities that might be identified as resisting heirarchical gender roles, there is a high correlation between that resistance and the renunciation of sexual practice. Abstaining from heterosexual marriage practice seems also consonant with a self-understanding that one belongs no longer to the realm of the fleshly Adam of Genesis 2, but rather to the realm of the spiritual anthropos.36  Corinthian Women Prophets, 125–26; see also note 16, p. 281.  MacDonald, No Male and Female, 45–46; BeDuhn, “Because of the Angels.” 36 Here I agree with Boyarin, Radical Jew, 195, who suggests that some early Christians, including the Corinthians themselves, enacted the primal androgyne myth by radically acting out the cancellation of gender difference on the social plane, a view that is consonant with reconstructions of the Corinthian situation offered by Wire and Schüssler Fiorenza. The recent scholarship of Fred Tappenden, might also help to bridge the difference between those who have embraced the myth of the primal androgyne as integral to Gal 3:28c and those who have not. Tappenden argues that a Hellenistic Jewish understanding of the two creatures of Genesis 1 and Genesis 2 as belonging to two different spheres, the spiritual and the earthly, need not have been understood in terms of an radical ontological dualism, requiring an “escape” from one realm into another, but rather in terms of a hierarchy of essences. It would have been 34 35

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To be sure, “there is no male and female” was a malleable saying among early Christians, subject to a variety of readings, and it need not be argued that all Christians processed it through this mythic reading of Genesis 1 and 2.37 Yet, we turn now to develop the argument that the imperatives in the Ephesians household code concerning wifely submission seem to take direct aim at the primal androgyne myth, especially when the longer reading of Eph 5:30 is taken into account.

IV. Flesh, Bone, Hierarchy: Ephesians 5:22–33 In contrast to the Paul of the non-disputed epistles, who assigns high value to ascetical practices, the Pauline pseudepigrapher’s defense of (heterosexual) hierarchical marriage in the Ephesian household code is thorough-going; one might even say hyperbolic. In likening the nurture of Christ for the church to the husband’s nurture for his wife, the pseudepigrapher asserts that “no one ever hates his own flesh” (Οὐδεὶς γάρ ποτε τὴν ἑαυτοῦ σάρκα ἐμίσησεν, 5:29a), a statement that would have been regarded as contrary-to-fact in ascetic contexts, and that is countered both in gospel and Pauline traditions.38 Though Paul had cited Gen 2:24 in 1 Corinthians 6:16 to condemn the practice of joining to a prostitute (a fleshly practice he contrasts with joining to the Lord in spirit in 1 Cor 6:1739), here the pseudepigrapher hails the two-becoming-one-flesh as a mystery pertaining to both Christ and the church (Eph 5:31–32).40 Most remarkably, the author justifies the literal, hierarchical marriage union he desires for each (free) member of his assembly through the highly charged sexual metaphor of Christ subjecting his bride to a pre-nuptial bathing and purity inspection.41 possible then for early Christ believers to understand the realms of spirit and earth, as interconnected and permeable, rather than as polar opposite and alien from each other. Tappenden, Resurrection in Paul, 97–102. 37  MacDonald provides useful analysis of various readings of the saying “no male and female,” including, for instance, Clement of Alexandria’s allegorizing male and female as vices to be overcome. No Male and Female 39; Clement, Strom. 3.13.93. 38  Consider 1 Cor 9:27a: ἀλλ᾿ ὑπωπιάζω μου τὸ σῶμα καὶ δουλαγωγῶ; or Luke 14:26: εἴ τις ἔρχεται πρός με καὶ οὐ μισεῖ … τὴν γυναῖκα … ἔτι τε καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν ἑαυτοῦ, οὐ δύναται εἶναί μου μαθητής. 39 ὁ δὲ κολλώμενος τῷ κυρίῳ ἓν πνεῦμά ἐστιν. 40  Annette Merz, “Why did the Pure Bride of Christ (2 Cor. 11.2) Become a Wedded Wife (Eph. 5:22–33)? Theses about the intertextual transformation of an Ecclesiological Metaphor,” JSNT 79 (2000): 131–47, esp. 143. 41  Eph 5:26–27a: ἵνα αὐτὴν ἁγιάσῃ καθαρίσας τῷ λουτρῷ τοῦ ὕδατος ἐν ῥήματι, ἵνα παραστήσῃ αὐτὸς ἑαυτῷ ἔνδοξον τὴν ἐκκλησίαν, μὴ ἔχουσαν σπίλον ἢ ῥυτίδα ἤ τι τῶν τοιούτων. See here Carolyn Osiek, “The Bride of Christ (Ephesians 5:22–33): A Problematic Wedding,” BTB 32.1 (2002): 29–39, esp. 35. As Osiek notes, in the background of the argument that Christ washes his bride in preparation for sexual union lies the motif of the hieros gamos, or sacred marriage between god and earthly female representative.

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The overarching – and, certainly for many, overreaching – argument here is that Christ’s union with the church is sexual, and consequently that ascetics have no place in the church. As Annette Merz puts it, in the pseudepigrapher’s view, “hierarchically structured marriage is the only human relational structure that can completely correspond to the protological action whereby God established the foundations of human life and to the eschatological action whereby Christ brought salvation.”42 Merz argues convincingly that the anti-ascetical emphasis of Eph 5:22–33 is an instance of “fictional self-reference,” whereby the pseudepigrapher modifies and “corrects” passages of the Pauline correspondence which had encouraged ascetical and egalitarian practices of those who understood themselves as having joined with the Lord in spirit (Cf. 1 Cor 6:17, 7:34). That is, the pseudepigrapher combats a cluster of issues associated with the concerns of those attempting to enact the myth of the primal androgyne – asceticism, gender egalitarianism, spiritual union with the Lord – by arguing for wifely submission on the basis of the hierarchical order of creation established in Genesis 2. Within this frame of reference, it makes perfect sense not just to remind the adressees that Woman is a subordinate product of Adam’s bone and flesh, but that the church itself is of the flesh and bone of Christ, as the longer reading of Eph 5:30 does. And thus, we clarify the logic of this reading: What better way to underscore that the church lives in the realm of Genesis 2, rather than the realm of Genesis 1, than to assert that even as Christ’s body, it is composed of flesh and bone, substances associated with the dust of the earth. It remains to make some accounting for the direction of influence between Luke’s assertion that Jesus stands before his apostles in flesh and bone in 24:39b, where these substances function as part of the exclusive authorization of the twelve male apostles; and the longer reading of Eph 5:30 where the flesh and bone of Christ’s body stand as part of the rationale for women’s subjection. As argued here, asserting that Christ’s body is of flesh and bone logically coheres in an argument for gender subordination driven by reference to the creation myth of Genesis 2. Therefore, scholars who have hesitated to regard the longer reading as original only on the grounds of logical incoherence may now accept it. Working from the principle that in ancient storytelling biographical incidents are often generated by literalizing metaphorical statements, it would be tempting to explain Luke 24:39 as derivative of the longer reading of Eph 5:30. In this scenario, an author familiar with the longer version of 5:30 develops the image of Christ’s body of flesh and bone into a narrative in which this substantive corporeal form of the resurrected Christ might be actually touched.43 On the other  Merz, “Pure Bride of Christ,” 147.  For discussion of early Christians literalizing the metaphorical in biographical narrative, see Shelly Matthews, Perfect Martyr: The Stoning of Stephen and the Construction of Christian 42 43

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hand, those who regard the witnesses for the shorter reading as superior may conclude that a later scribe has chosen to underscore the logic of subordination in the passage by adding this material emphasis, inspired by knowledge of the phrase in Luke 24. Either route is plausible, depending on decisions one reaches about the original reading of Eph 5:30, on the one hand, and the dating of the final redaction of Luke 24, on the other. Regardless of the direction of influence, it may at least be noted that both Eph 5:30 and Luke 24:39b seem to be penned by authors sharing common concern to “correct” troublesome aspects of Paul’s own correspondence.44

V. Conclusion Quarrels among early Christians on the question of the resurrection of the flesh are often accounted for as the embrace of the “goodness” of the flesh by the orthodox on the one hand, and a platonically influenced disavowal of materiality by heretics on the other. Alternately, the orthodox embrace of fleshly resurrection is understood as the insistence on the “reality” of the resurrection, in the face of those who dismiss bodily resurrection as an illusion (phantasia; cf. Pseudo-Justin, On Resurrection 2.14, for one ancient formulation in these terms). But reasons for insisting that the resurrected Christ possesses a fleshly body should not be reduced merely to the desire to affirm the “goodness” or the “reality” of that flesh.45 In the case of Lukan texts pertaining to the appearance of the resurrected Jesus, as well as in the longer reading of Eph 5:30, flesh and

Identity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 83–84; and also Richard Bauckham, “For What Offence Was James Put to Death?” in James the Just and Christian Origins, ed. Bruce Chilton and Craig A. Evans, NovTSup 98 (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 199–232. One problem with this scenario, for those who regard Marcion’s Luke 24 as a source for canonical Luke 24, is that Marcion’s text of Luke 24 includes “bone” as a substance of the resurrected body of Jesus, but not flesh. I thank Daniel Smith for conversation about the puzzle of how these ancient sources are related, which for me is not yet fully resolved. 44  See Daniel A. Smith for discussion of how Luke 24:36–43 might serve to “correct” Paul’s views on resurrection, and especially how the “flesh and bones” of Luke serve to counter the insistence at 1 Cor 15:50 that “flesh and blood” do not inherit in “Seeing a Pneuma[tic Body]: The Apologetic Interests of Luke 24.36–43,” CBQ 72 (2010): 752–72, esp. 765–72. 45  See Taylor Petry’s insightful analysis of the problem of such a division in Resurrecting Parts: Early Christians on Desire, Reproduction and Sexual Difference (New York / ​London: Routledge, 2016). Petrey reminds us that early Christians engaged in thematizing the resurrection were themselves caught up in defining the malleable and contested terms of the debate and cautions, “We need to avoid reading [these texts] as if we already know what [they] say about flesh, because flesh is not, at this point, a stable concept” (Resurrection Parts, 1–2, 40). Judith M. Lieu argues similarly in Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 372–75.

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bone are “good to think with,” because these are materials into which gender exclusions and hierarchies are readily inscribed.46

46 Consider also this assessment on why matter and the body are rejected in the early Christian text, The Gospel of Mary: “The author of this work accepts a world view that disparages matter and the body… . This acceptance, it seems to me, is not only because of a deep sensitivity to the connection of suffering and death with the physical body, but because of the body’s insensitivity to other (different) bodies, its insistence on separation and domination, its blindness… . Gender wars belong to matter.” Jane Schaberg, The Resurrection of Mary Magdalene: Legends, Apocrypha, and the Christian Testament (New York: Continuum, 2004), 183.

The ‘Strange New Dish’ Called Acts! 1 David P. Moessner Contemporary readers of Acts, not unlike their ancient counterparts, often find themselves wondering aloud just what sort of story they are encountering – naked exorcists, magical handkerchiefs, vipers dangling in an exotic Maltese-island barbeque, etc., etc.2 These extraordinary episodes and spectacle of characters have led even as sophisticated, rhetorically savvy exegetes as Chrysostom to opine that, “[The Acts of the Apostles] is a strange new dish … strange, I say, and not strange …. Not strange, for it belongs to the order of Holy Scripture; and yet strange, because peradventure your ears are not accustomed to such a subject.”3] Is Acts an ‘outlier’ book, so strange in form and content that the early Christian communities did not know what to do with it? This short peek into the overlapping ‘end’ of Luke’s Gospel with the ‘beginning’ of the Acts of the Apostles is written with the deepest appreciation and admiration for the incredible depth and scope of Richard Pervo’s erudition in all things “Greco-Roman.” The appearance of his Hermeneia volume on Acts marked especially one of the great highpoints in modern-postmodern historical-critical interpretations of the Lukan writings and has gifted scholars and interested readers everywhere with a brilliant illumination of Luke’s second volume, this “strange new dish.”

I. Metalepsis Not only the strange tales, but also the transition from Acts 1:4a to 1:4b seems almost as bizarre as many of the subsequent actions of the apostles themselves. The main character of the first volume, already ascended to the exalted Place of the Deity of Israel (Luke 24:50–51), suddenly, unexpectedly, almost eerily appearing out of nowhere speaks out of the mouth of the narrator. (Narrator speaking) – “And while he was eating with them, he commanded them not to 1  A shorter version of this paper was presented in the doctoral seminar of Prof. Tobias Nicklas, Catholic Faculty of Theology, Universität Regensburg, October 5, 2016. I am indebted to the helpful questions and comments from both students and professor. 2  See esp. Acts 19:11–20 and 28:1–10. 3  On principium Actorum iii, 54, trans. H. J. Cadbury, The Book of Acts in History (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1955), 159.

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depart from Jerusalem but to await the promise of the Father which you heard from me – (Jesus speaking!). As a literary trope in Greek, moving from indirect to direct speech is not in itself unusual. Luke does this in several other places such as Luke 5:14 and Acts 14:22; 23:22, etc.4 But, what does this ‘sudden slippage’ in a secondary prologue mean for the interpretation of Acts? An interesting but asymmetrical parallel between Jesus in Luke and Jesus in Acts now emerges. Consider the following two verses: Luke 5:14 (indirect to direct speech of Jesus, first level narration maintained): καὶ αὐτὸς παρήγγειλεν αὐτῷ μηδενὶ εἰπεῖν ἀλλὰ ἀπελθὼν δεῖξον σεαυτὸν τῷ ἱερεῖ καὶ προσένεγκε περὶ τοῦ καθαρισμοῦ ….

Acts 1:4a to 4b (indirect to direct speech through second level narration [Acts 1:1–3] collapsed back into the first level of the first volume, establishing a new first level narration of Acts): καὶ συναλιζόμενος παρήγγειλεν αὐτοῖς ἀπὸ Ἱεροσολύμων μὴ χωρίζεσθαι ἀλλὰ περιμένειν τὴν ἐπαγγελίαν τοῦ πατρὸς ἣν ἠκούσατέ μου ὅτι Ἰωάννης ….

This “slide” from the narrated world about Jesus to Jesus’s own voice in Luke 5 is one thing. But, the ‘interruption’ of the authorial-narrator through the main speaker and actor of the previous volume (i. e., Jesus in the Gospel) in a secondary prologue is another. It is startling, contrary to all expectation. Jesus has been “taken up” to the “Exalted Place” (Luke 24:49b), and this opening of Acts provides a quick summary of the content of that ‘Gospel’5 – “all the things, O Theophilus, that Jesus began to do and to teach until the day on which, after he had given instruction through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen, he was taken up (ἀνελήμφθη)” (Acts 1:1–2). Thus, the authorial voice of the first volume (esp. e. g., Luke 1:1–4) introduces the subsequent volume. But then, in the second volume (Acts 1:3–4), still in ‘first person narration,’ the authorial voice begins to expand on the significance of the risen Jesus’s instructions to the apostles before his ascension, supplementing Luke 24:13–51. It was in fact a longer period of time than the ending of Luke would give Luke’s readers to believe. Important teaching had taken place during a “40-day period to the apostles concerning the Kingdom of God,” in light of the major change of circumstances that Jesus the Christ had undergone, “after

4 Pervo provides a full treatment of direct to indirect speech and vice versa in Acts in Richard I. Pervo, Acts: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2009), 38–39. Though not referring to the trope of metalēpsis in Acts 1:4, he does observe that as a function of “popular literature”: “The sudden eruption of direct speech in Acts 1:4 is therefore stylistically appropriate; it indicates the author’s desire for immediate and vivid communication.” 5  If you allow my anachronistic use of ‘gospel’ for the genre or even title of Luke’s first volume.

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suffering” rejection, execution (μετὰ τὸ παθεῖν αὐτόν), and then appearing as alive (ζῶντα) again (Acts 1:3). The ensuing interruption within the prologue to a sequel volume, which should reorient the audience to what lies ahead, would seem here only to complicate matters. The Gospel of Luke has already reached a conclusive end (τελευτή): “The days of Jesus’s ἀναλήμψις” have been announced in Galilee (9:51) and are moving toward realization. They are accomplished when in 24:51 Jesus “is carried up to heaven” (ἀνεφέρετο εἰς τὸν οὐρανόν) – not to mention a final inclusio of characters gathered at the Temple: Zechariah offering incense (Luke 1:5–23); and “they returned to Jerusalem, praising God continually in the Temple” (Luke 24:52–53).6 The voiceover of the narrator by the main character of the previous volume in a linking prooemion of a multi-volume work is, as far as I have been able to determine, unprecedented in ancient Greek narrative. This ‘speaking out of turn’ would indeed arrest audience attention. According to Quintilian, μετάληψις [hereafter, metalepsis] belongs in a discussion of the familiar tropes of metaphor, synecdoche, metonymy, autonomasia, onomatopoeia, and catachresis. Metalepsis: provides a transition [transumptio] from one trope to another …. It is the nature of metalepsis to form a kind of intermediate step between the term transferred and the thing to which it is transferred, having no meaning in itself, but providing a transition. It is a trope with which to claim acquaintance, rather than one which we are ever likely to require to use [Inst. 8.6.37–38].7

Quintilian had already prefaced his comments by pointing out that metalepsis is a ‘Greek thing,’ “not infrequently used” by Greeks, but rarely used in Latin, except for comedy (8.6.37). He gives, as an example of the latter, the use of the apocopated “cano” for “canto” (to repeat) and since “canto” is a synonym for “dico,” “cano” therefore forms a trope as a middle-term synonym for “dico” (8.3.38).8 Ancient Greek auditors would hardly be shocked or ‘put off’ by such a rhetorical intrusion; although it is not a frequent trope in Greek narrative, neither is it, according to Quintilian, a rare form (Inst. 8.6.37–38) [See Appendix 1].9 In the modern-postmodern narratology of Gérard Genette, in his seminal Discours du récit (Narrative Discourse), he adopts and applies the ancient notion of transumption or transference to characterize the breaking of narrative boundaries or “levels,” as he calls them, in order better to explain narrative significations rendered through the ‘novel’ forms of the novel in such delineations 6 Cf.

the recapitulation in Acts 1:2: “until the day he was taken up” (ἄχρι ἧς ἡμέρας …

ἀναλήμφθη).

7  ET: A. E. Butler, trans., The Institutio oratoria of Quintilian, 4 vols., LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1920–22), 3:323. 8  Ibid., 8.3.39 (trans. Butler [n. 7]). 9  See below, Irene de Jong et al. for examples of metalepsis in the narrating of the Iliad, the Odyssey, and Philostratus’s Vita Apollonii.

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as ‘narrator,’ ‘the narrated,’ and ‘narratee.’ In his chapter on “Voice,” Genette defines metalepsis as “any intrusion by the extradiegetic [“outside” the narrated story or ‘second level’] narrator or narratee into the diegetic universe [narrated story] (or by diegetic characters into a metadiegetic universe, etc.), or the inverse ….”10 Genette calls this second narrative level “metadiegesis” since it presumes to hover somehow above or exterior to the primary story narration, though contained within it. In Acts 1:6 the metadiegetic narrator of the first-person “I” appears to return to ‘normalcy’ in continuing the opening voice of Acts 1:1–4a. But when, in that same verse, both Jesus and the disciples speak directly to each other at the level of “the narrated,” it is now clear that the “world of narrating” has shifted from the level of that same direct interaction of the first volume to the new ‘orb of narrating’ from the point of view of the crucified, resurrected, exalted one of “heaven.” Jesus will no longer be present with them as the ‘hidden’ presence that goes before them, appears incognito “on the way” to accompany them, or even enters their “room” mysteriously to eat with them (Luke 24:1–49). Though the narrator will reiterate Jesus’s “journeying into heaven” as that extended period comes to a close (Acts 1:9–11) and the new ‘equilibrium’ of the fulfilled worship of “God” in the Temple is re-instated (Acts 1:12–14), Jesus of Nazareth, the “anointed” prophet who “must suffer to thus enter into his glory” (Luke 24:19–21 → 25–26), will no longer be present to his disciples by “appearing and disappearing” to them willy-nilly. Rather, Jesus’s ongoing presence with his followers will now create a new world of “speaking and acting” where the divide between heaven and earth is replaced by the somatic presence of his “flesh and bones” mediated through the “baptism of the Holy Spirit” that Jesus himself effects (σάρκα καὶ ὀστέα, Luke 24:38–41; συναλιζόμενος … αὐτοῖς, Acts 1:4–5; τήν τε ἐπαγγελίαν τοῦ πνεύματος τοῦ ἁγίου λαβὼν παρὰ τοῦ πατρός, ἐξέχεεν τοῦτο ὃ ὑμεῖς [καὶ] βλέπετε καὶ ἀκούετε, Acts 2:33b). This transformed presence of Jesus of Nazareth constitutes the new reality of the “Kingdom of God” that now presents Jesus the suffering, crucified Christ as “the living one” who himself bespeaks and enacts the Kingdom of God. As the broken one at table with the twelve (“he broke the bread … my body which is being given for you,” Luke 22:19), Jesus the suffering-exalted one had already anticipated and celebrated the passage of this new realization of God’s reign11 in a new ‘universe of narrating’ where his disciples as “witnesses to all these things” would journey “to the ends of the earth” (Luke 24:48; Acts 1:8). We may sum up. Through metaleptic transference, Luke collapses the world of the Jesus of the Gospel that is consummated at his heavenly enthronement12 into 10  Gérard Genette, Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method, trans. J. E. Lewin (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1980), 235. 11  Luke 22:16 – ἕως ὅτου πληρωθῇ ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ τοῦ θεοῦ; Luke 22:18b – ἕως οὗ ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ ἔλθῃ. 12 Cf. Acts 2:30–35.

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the world of his continuing followers whose sending will culminate at the center of Empire. Jesus is still the primary actor and teacher in Acts. By designating an ‘in-between temporal space’ (i. e., between resurrection and ascension) as well as a liminal physical space of the resurrected Jesus (i. e., between earth and heaven) – that is to say, using Genette’s terms,13 between intra-diegetic and extra-diegetic plotting and universes of narration between Luke 24 and Acts 1:1–14 – Luke fuses the two volumes to narrate one larger story of Israel’s Messiah Jesus who thus composes the one subject matter or pragmatikos topos of the one two-volume ‘work’ (ergon). Jesus, deus ex machina-like,14 continues “to act and to teach” as he did in volume one, lending peculiar poignancy to the epitome of Acts 1:1: “all that Jesus began to enact and to teach.” The interweaving of the Gospel of Luke within the opening prologue of Acts shows how the collapsed world of Jesus of the Gospel re-aligns, re-orders, and thus re-configures the disciples’ understanding and embrace of the new presence of the reign of God for the witness of the church. Rather than “restoring the kingdom to Israel” (κύριε … ἀποκαθιστάνεις τὴν βασιλείαν τῷ Ἰσραήλ, Acts 1:6) into which the nations of the earth would stream to worship the one true God, the one God who controls the heaven and the earth now extends the newly fulfilled Kingdom of the exalted-suffering Lord, Jesus, through the baptized power of the Holy Spirit upon Jesus’s witnesses to the nations “to the end of the earth” (ἕως ἐσχάτου τῆς γῆς, Acts 1:8). We attain, then, the following poetics of overlap, where the symbol * indicates metalepsis and the siglum ≈ represents “corresponds to”:15

 Genette, Narrative Discourse, esp. 232–35. image from the “stage” is not to suggest that Luke draws upon metalepsis to contrive some ‘fantastic’ or artificial device [lowering a crane!] for re-inserting Jesus’s presence into Acts. Rather, the realm of the Divine is collapsed into the material, created world of flesh and bones in a way reminiscent of the visible reinsertion of the Divine reality onto the stage to make sense and comprehend the greater significance of the entire plot. 15  Henk J. de Jonge, “The Chronology of the Ascension Stories in Luke and Acts,” NTS 59 (2013): 151–71, relegates Acts 1:3 as a “flash forward” (pp. 162–63) to the period following the ascension, summarized in 1:2b, to produce a very different overlap where the forty-day period now introduces the period of the church. The problem with this scheme is that the summative language of Acts 1:3–6 captures the main features of each happening in the series of events and sayings of Luke 24:36–50 so that the second account of the ascension (Acts 1:9–11) also expands the shorter epitome of Luke 24:50–51. According to the author, a forty-day period subsequent to the ascension lends greater authority to the apostles as “eyewitnesses” of the resurrection. De Jonge compares this trope of prolepsis to Luke 3:19–20 when John is ostensibly put in prison before Jesus is baptized (3:21–22). The difficulty, however, is that Luke does not give any appearances of the resurrected Christ to the 12 apostles in the chapters that follow (Acts 1:15–5:42), unlike the clear movement of the narrative to John’s (later) imprisonment in Luke 7:18–35! It is only Saul / ​Paul, beginning in Acts 9, who “sees” and “hears” and “talks” to the risen Christ (See Appendix 2 below). Nor do de Jonge’s other two examples of “flash forward” function in a way parallel to Acts 1:3 (Acts 11:28 and Luke 6:16). 13

14 This

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Acts Luke 1:1–4a [inscribed narrator, “I,” of second level, 1st pers. narration, summarizes vol. 1 and adds a ‘40’ day period after the resurrection up to the ascension]

≈

3:21–24:53

1:3 [“Kingdom of God announced” to apostles for “40 days” after Jesus’s “suffering”: 1st pers. narration continues]

≈

24:13–43

1:4a [at a meal: apostles told indirectly by resurrected Jesus to “stay in this city” {Jerusalem}]

≈

24:36–49

*1:4b–5 [Jesus speaks directly out of narrator’s mouth as diēgētic first level narration of Acts: “await the promise which you heard from me” – cf. “through the Holy Spirit,” narrator – Acts 1:2]

≈

24:49

1:6–11 [“witness” to “end of the earth”: the answer to “restoring the Kingdom to Israel?” through Jesus’s analempsis]

≈

24:50–51

1:12–14 [apostles / ​disciples re-gather in the Temple]

≈

24:52–53

1:15 ff. [resumption of “the narrated” narrative time from Luke 24:53]

II. The Reception History of Acts Is there any evidence within the history of the reception of Acts that would support this reading or even evoke this understanding of Acts as an authoritative interpretative voice of the risen-crucified Jesus over the whole period of his public ministry, as well as narrating his continuing to speak and to act within the new, yet ongoing life of his followers, the church?16 [For detailed evidence of Jesus as speaker and actor, see Appendix 2 below]. 1.  We have seen that Luke appears to write Acts to be read as one larger narrative story that continues his Gospel. After all, he opens each of his two books with a short prooimion in which he addresses the same person, “Theophilus” (Luke 1:4; Acts 1:1) and indicates ostensibly that the sequel volume will continue “all 16  For a detailed review of the formation of the Christian Bible, see Tobias Nicklas, “The Development of the Christian Bible,” in What is Bible?, ed. K. Finsterbusch and A. Lange, CBET 67 (Leuven and Walpole, MA: Peeters, 2012), 393–426.

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that Jesus began to do and to teach” (Acts 1:1). If this is so, why did the earliest church communities not read ‘Luke and Acts’ together as Luke-Acts, one flowing work in two volumes?17 Why in the several lists of an emerging ‘canon’18 of newly authoritative or “new testament” scripture texts does Acts never follow Luke?19 Even the “Cheltenham Canon,” the only placement of Luke among canonical lists as the last of the four Gospels (ca. 360 CE – northern Africa: Matthew, Mark, John, Luke, Paulines (!), Acts, Revelation, 5 Catholic Epistles) has Acts follow the Paulines and not the last listed Gospel, Luke! Or consider the example of a ‘canonical’ ‘table of contents’ inscribed within a codex of the Paulines, namely, Codex Claromontanus, D [06] – 6th c.) In the stichometry of the books, Luke is placed as the last of the Gospels; yet Acts is not listed until the very last book of the New Testament (NT), following Revelation! Other examples could be given. But, we can summarize this strange phenomenon:

 Cf. Patricia Walters, The Assumed Authorial Unity of Luke and Acts: A Reassessment of the Evidence, SNTSMS 145 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), who argues in part that too many stylistic differences in the Greek of Acts point to a different composer than the author of the Gospel; contra, David P. Moessner, Luke the Historian of Israel’s Legacy, Theologian of Israel’s ‘Christ’: A New Reading of the ‘Gospel Acts’ of Luke (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016), esp. 315–39. See C. Kavin Rowe’s challenge to the ‘historical-critical’ conclusion that Luke-Acts was intended by Luke to be read sequentially as two volumes of one work and the resulting debate: “History, Hermeneutics and the Unity of Luke-Acts,” JSNT 28 (2005): 131–57; Luke T. Johnson, “Literary Criticism of Luke-Acts: Is Reception-History Pertinent?,” JSNT 28 (2005): 159–62; Markus Bockmuehl, “Why not Let Acts Be Acts? In Conversation with C. Kavin Rowe,” JSNT 28 (2005): 163–66; Andrew Gregory, “The Reception of Luke and Acts and the Unity of Luke-Acts,” JSNT 29 (2007): 459–72; C. Kavin Rowe, “Literary Unity and Reception History: Reading Luke-Acts as Luke and Acts,” JSNT 29 (2007): 449–57. 18 Single quotation marks indicate that although a process was underway, the resulting canon of NT books would come only later and recognized as such after a longer period of scrutiny and final acceptance; see esp. Harry Y. Gamble, “Marcion and the ‘Canon,’” in The Cambridge History of Christianity, Vol. 1: Origins to Constantine, ed. M. M. Mitchell and F. M. Young (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 195–213, esp. 207–13. 19  See, e. g., Henry J. Cadbury, The Book of Acts in History, Chapter VI “Subsequent History,” 136–164; Alexander Souter, The Text and Canon of the New Testament, rev. C. S. C. Williams (London: Duckworth, 1953), esp. 188–220; Robert M. Grant, The Formation of the New Testament (London: Hutchinson & Co., 1965), esp. 148–61; Ernst Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary (Oxford: Blackwell, 1971), 3–14; Bruce M. Metzger, The Canon of the New Testament (Oxford: Clarendon, 1987), esp. 191–266; Andrew Gregory, The Reception of Luke and Acts in the Period before Irenaeus: Looking for Luke in the Second Century, WUNT 2/169, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); David E. Smith, The Canonical Function of Acts (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2002), esp. 11–18; Jens Schröter, “Die Apostelgeschichte und die Entstehung des neutestamentlichen Kanons: Beobachtungen zur Kanonisierung der Apostelgeschichte und ihrer Bedeutung als kanonischer Schrift,” in The Biblical Canons, ed. J.-M. Auwers and H. J. de Jonge, BETL 163 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2003), 395–429; R. Pervo, Acts, 1–7; Carl Holladay, Acts: A Commentary, NTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2016), 1–13; cf. also the discussions in Mikeal C. Parsons and Richard I. Pervo, Rethinking the Unity of Luke and Acts (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993), esp. 1–44. 17

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1. No scroll or papyrus contains Luke and Acts together (maximum functional length of papyrus rolls would not permit this) 2. No codex (either bound leaves or animal skins) combines Luke followed by Acts a) Papyrus e. g., Chester Beatty (3rd c.) [p45]: Gospels + Acts (=1 codex) Western order: Matthew – Mark – Luke – John – Acts b) Parchment e. g., Bezae (5th c.) [D {05}]: Gospels + 60 pp. + Acts Eastern order: Matthew – John – Luke – Mark – 60pp.[broken off] – Acts 3. No canonical list places Acts immediately after Luke e. g., Athanasius, ep. fest. 39 [367 ce] Matt – Mark – Luke – John – Acts – Catholic Epistles – Paulines – Revelation e. g., Augustine, Doctr. chr. II.cc.8–9§§ 12–14 [ca. 400 ce] Matt – Mark – Luke – John – Paulines – Catholic Epistles – Acts – Revelation 2.  In the historical-critical interpretation of Acts in Europe from the Enlightenment in the 18th cent. on, Acts has by and large been viewed as a ‘secondary’ member, at best, of the NT books. Not only is its ‘genre’ strange (as Chrysostom had so aptly pointed out already in the 4th century), but also its content is regarded as essentially historical facts of the early church that played more of the role of an archive appended to the Gospels or NT books rather than a vital expression of the ongoing work of Christ through the Holy Spirit based on the Gospel accounts.20 Ernst Haenchen, a leading interpreter of the 20th century, expressed the role of Acts this way: “In Acts the Christian reader encountered a book unlike any he had previously known … neither necessary nor customarily used in preaching or instruction. Only because of its connection with the third gospel, then, was Acts allowed to cross the threshold of the Canon.”21 More than that, the author of Acts, the canonical “Luke,” was regarded as at best a ‘third generation’ Christian, not, in any case, part of the “we passages” in Acts, but a later historian who had not known Paul personally, and, quite often, missed the more powerful understanding of Paul’s theology of ‘justification by grace through faith.’22 Neither a theological book on the same level as Paul and the Gospels, nor a format that was familiar or seemed fitting for “the gospel” per se, Acts made it into the canon by ‘slipping in’ through the ‘edges.’ In fact, according to certain western-critical approaches, that Acts occupies such different positions in the various sequences of the diverse canonical lists is taken to mean 20  Cf. Jerome in Epist. 53 ad Paulinum (PL 22:548): “naked history,” cited in Cadbury, Book of Acts in History, 159 n. 48. 21  Acts of the Apostles, 9. 22  E. g., Philipp Vielhauer, “Zum ‘Paulinismus’ der Apostelgeschichte,” EvT 10 (1950–51): 1–15.

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that Acts was regarded at worst as an “also read” edifying book, and at best as an awkward ‘add-on’ to the Gospels. In short, in much of the historical-critical exegesis of Western church traditions, especially from the 19th century on, Acts is devalued as considerably less important to expounding the gospel than many of the other books of the NT. 3.  Do the canonical lists and tables from a wide expanse of the Mediterranean world indicate that Acts was slow to be accepted or regarded as somewhat ‘marginal’ and thus never clearly recognized as an authoritative, even ‘canonical’ book in its own right?23 A review of the position of Acts within a variety of sequences will be helpful: 1. Acts between the Four Gospels (ending with John) and the Paulines (followed by Hebrews, the Catholic Epistles, and Revelation), e. g., the Synod of Carthage (397 ce): Matt  – Mark  – Luke  – John  – Acts  – 13 Paulines  – Hebrews  – 7 Catholic Epistless – Revelation 2. Acts between the Four Gospels (ending with John) and Catholic Epistles (followed by the Paulines and Revelation), e. g., Athanasius, ep. fest. 39 of 367 ce: Matt – Mark – Luke – John – Acts – 7 Catholic Epistles – 14 Paulines – Revelation 3. Acts at the end of the list of accepted NT books, following Revelation (with Luke the pivot between the Four Gospels and 10 Paulines), e. g., Codex Claromontanus (c. 6th cent.-Sardinia perhaps?): Matt – John – Mark – Luke – 10 Paulines – 7 Catholic Epistles – {Barnabas – less than fully authoritative} – Revelation – Acts {Hermas Pastor; Acts of Paul; Revelation of Peter – all less than fully authoritative} 4. Acts between the Paulines and Revelation (with Luke closing the opening Four Gospels and 5 Catholic Epistles closing the list), e. g., the Cheltenham Canon (360 ce northern Africa): Matt – Mark – John – Luke – 13 Paulines – Acts – Revelation – 5 Catholic [three Johannine and two Petrine – with greater weight given to 1 John and 1 Peter] 5. Acts between the Catholic Epistles and Revelation, e. g., Augustine, Doctr. chr. II.8–9 §§ 12–14 [ca. 400 ce]: Matt – Mark – Luke – John – 14 Paulines – 7 Catholic Epistles – Acts – Revelation 23 For the evidence of material culture and ‘book’ impact from Acts, see Tobias Nicklas, “Vom Umgang mit der Schrift: Zeugen der Apostelgeschichte als Quellen christlichen Kultur‑ und Soziallebens in der Antike,” in: The Book of Acts as Church History – Apostelgeschichte als Kirchengeschichte, ed. T. Nicklas and M. Tilly, BZNW 120 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2003), 297–319 .

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6. Acts concluding the nascent Christian Bible of the “Law and the Prophets” along with the Gospel and Paulines, e. g., The Doctrine of Addai [Syriac Churches, 2nd half of the 4th cent.]: “The Law and the Prophets … and the Gospel … and the Epistles of Paul … and the Acts of the twelve Apostles … these books you should read in the Church of God, and with these do not read others.” [emphasis mine]

Preliminary Observations and Inferences: What are we to make of this amazing fluidity of Acts’s alignment in the various sequences of the ‘canonical’ books? (1) Though Acts can be listed toward the end and seemingly associated with the less certain or “also read” books like Hermas or Acts of Paul or Apocalypse / ​ Revelation of Peter, etc., Acts itself is never demarcated as less than authoritative, that is to say, as anything but one of the books emerging with ‘canonical’ stature. There is no debate regarding the overall authenticity of Acts as apostolic and thus it always appears as a member of the emerging body of revered and “set aside” books. If Acts were always or typically listed toward the end, then one could doubt its ready acceptance in contrast to the Paulines and the Gospels, etc. But as we see, Acts appears in at least six different positions: three of the six are more or less in the middle of the sequence while the other three are at the end. There is no evidence within the larger incipient ‘church catholic’ that Acts was regarded as marginal in authority. Beginning in the last quarter of the second century, it always seems to be there-wherever it falls into line! (2) The silence of any controversy regarding Acts’s authenticity and the general acceptance of its emerging ‘canonical’ authority – coupled with the varying positions it occupies in the different sequences – argues that Acts was viewed from different angles or points of scrutiny regarding its relation to the other ‘canonical’ books. It is not a ‘leap of logic’ to perceive Acts as playing an important role in ‘vouching for’ certain collections as the Pauline or Catholic Epistles.24 The relation of Acts to the Gospel of Luke appears to allow the two volumes to play different roles in the coalescing ‘mergers’ or ‘associations’ of books clustering according to topic and apostolic authority. Acts may well have been a ‘bridge’ to link these different ‘clusters’ or ‘blocks’ to each other. Certainly this view of Acts has been espoused by a number of canonical authorities, including no one less than Adolf von Harnack, who compared the role of Acts to a superstructure for the whole of the NT, ‘housing’ both ‘wings’ of the Four Gospels and the Paulines under the same ‘roof’ and making room for the habitation of the Catholic epistles, as well.25 A contemporary American author, David E. Smith, has gone 24 See

esp. Charles K. Barrett, “The First New Testament?,” NovT 38 (1996): 94–104.  Adolf von Harnack, History of Dogma (London: Williams and Norgate, 1896), 48 n. 2. On the role and meaning of “apocryphal” writings for the formation of the canon of the NT, see esp. Tobias Nicklas, “Christian Apocrypha and the Development of the Christian Canon,” EC 5 25

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even further, suggesting that the role of the Holy Spirit in Acts pulled the prophetic books of the OT along with the Four Gospels and the Paulines through their commonly shared view of the Spirit’s working and relation to the ‘anointed’ Christ of Israel.26 Since Acts was not disputed and presented the authority of the apostles and witnesses, Peter, John, James, and Paul, who are all legitimated by the Spirit in the unfolding account of their apostolic work, the book played a determinative role in pulling the NT together, including the embrace of the Catholic Epistles of Peter, James, and John. Can this special role or function be affirmed by additional historical or literary observations? 4.  My thesis affirms this view of Acts as an important ‘collaborator’ and ‘organizer’  – if you will  – in the production of the emerging canonical lists of the second through fifth centuries. Two additional considerations support this conclusion: 1) The present scope does not permit treating the many uses and references to Acts from the second to fifth centuries ce.27 Irenaeus illustrates the first extant citing when, in Book 3 of his Adversus haereses, he refers to Acts in conjunction with Jesus’s own promise of the Spirit – “after our Lord rose from the dead” – linking Luke 24:40 to Acts 1:8 as well as to Acts 2. For, after our Lord rose from the dead, [the apostles] were invested with power from on high when the Holy Spirit came down [upon them], were filled from all [His gifts], and had perfect knowledge: they departed to the ends of the earth, preaching the glad tidings of the good things [sent] from God to us, and proclaiming the peace of heaven to all humankind, who [apostles] indeed do all equally and individually possess the Gospel of God (3.1.1; PL 174:37–38; trans. mine; italics = echoes from the Gospels, primarily Luke, and Acts 1–2).

But rather than speaking only about Luke’s Gospel, this promise interprets the words and deeds of Jesus in all of the Gospels (3.2.1). Thus, Jesus’s promise demonstrates that the Spirit through Jesus is the common source of the Four Gospels. “Collectively and individually they [the twelve apostles] had the Gospel of God” (3.3.1).28 It would seem that, not only is the role of Acts as authoritative apostolic interpretation not disputed, but also, that the function of Acts as a lens for understanding all of the four Gospels is simply taken for granted. That Acts should (2014): 220–40; cf. p. 239: “the variety of Christian apocrypha can show us that Christianity has been an extremely complex phenomenon with not only different developments in different regions but consisting of different groups with different access to (and use of) written books, with different theologies, liturgies and other expressions of ecclesiastical life.” 26  David E. Smith, The Canonical Function of Acts (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2002). 27  For one of the fullest treatments of bibliographical resources for the study of Acts before the Reformation, see Paul F. Stuehrenberg, “The Study of Acts before the Reformation. A Bibliographic Introduction,” NovT 29 (1987): 100–36. 28  Robert M. Grant, trans. Irenaeus of Lyons, Against Heresies, ECF (London: Routledge, 1997), 124.

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be read as volume 2 of a Luke + Acts only – or even primarily – does not even come into consideration. 2) Perhaps my thesis is illustrated most poignantly by the ‘Doctor of the Church’ with whom we opened, namely, Chrysostom, who in Antioch toward the end of the fourth century laments that Acts is not well known and thus certainly neglected.29 Yet a few years later as bishop of Constantinople this biblical exegete par excellence writes a commentary on Acts in which he reveals, perhaps unwittingly, how Acts has been understood for two centuries or more in a fashion similar to Irenaeus; namely, utilizing Acts as an authoritative commentary on the rest of the writers of the now emergent, more consolidated NT ‘canon.’30 For the sake of brevity we will focus only on his comments on the opening verses of Acts, Homily 1, summarizing his major contributions by highlighting what he calls Acts’s special “treasures”: a.  Acts is on par with the Gospels in its utterances about Christian wisdom and sound doctrine (dogma). Thus no less than the Gospels, Acts is worthy of study and application.31 b.  Acts shows how Jesus’s predictions in (all) the Gospels come true in his followers, citing, e. g., John 14:12; Matt 10:18: “hauled before governors and kings.” This saying in Matthew is also in Mark 13:9 and Luke 21:12 (the triple tradition), but instead of citing Luke’s own version from his ‘first volume,’ Chrysostom cites Matthew!32 c.  Acts demonstrates how the apostles went through a major change of mentality and life-style, “once so timorous and void of understanding” (καὶ τοὺς 29 In principium Actorum, PG 51:65–112 [5 homilies on the beginning of Acts, one of which was lost]. See esp. Michael B. Compton, “Introducing the Acts of the Apostles: A Study of John Chrysostom’s ‘On The Beginning of Acts’” (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Virginia, 1996): these homilies were intended to introduce Chrysostom’s congregation in Antioch to the vital moral, hortative character of the Acts of the Apostles when the book had become “neglected,” even “unknown”; Compton provides his own translation of Homily 1, pp. 248–63. Chrysostom’s custom was “to prepare his congregation for later homilies on a particular book” (p. 3). The full commentary [55 homilies], however, followed only after Chrysostom became bishop of Constantinople in 400 ce. 30 Homilies on the Acts of the Apostles; cf., e. g., ed. Philip Schaff, vol. 11 of The Nicene and Post Nicene Fathers (NPNF1): Homilies on the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistle to the Romans, eds. and trans. J. Walker, J. Sheppard, H. Browne, G. B. Stevens (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1994). Already in his In principium Actorum Chrysostom had emphasized the apostolic words and deeds as programmatic for emulation and necessary resource for Christian transformation of character or paideia on the same level of power and persuasion as the Gospels. Even the title of Acts was to be understood as rhetorically persuasive for Christian discipleship (1.3 [PG 51:71.37]). 31  “For indeed it may profit us no less than even the Gospels; so replete is it with Christian wisdom and sound doctrine, especially in what is said concerning the Holy Ghost,” Οὐδὲ γὰρ ἔλαττον αὐτῶν τῶν Εὐαγγελίων ὠφελῆσαι ἡμᾶς δυνήσεται· τοσαύτης ἐμπέπλησται φιλοσοφίας καὶ

δογμάτων ὀρθότητος, καὶ θαυμάτων ἐπιδείξεως, καὶ μάλιστα τῶν παρὰ τοῦ Πνεύματος εἰργασμένων (Hom. Act. 1.1, trans. NPNF1 11:1 [PG 60:13]). 32 Ibid.

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δειλοὺς ἐκείνους καὶ ἀσυνέτους ἀθρόον) due to the transformation by the Holy

Spirit.33 This radical change makes Acts a treasure trove for ‘spiritual’ interpretations of all of Jesus’s words and deeds as well as all of the church’s OT scriptures. d.  Acts reveals doctrines / ​truths (dogma) otherwise unknown!34 According to Chrysostom, Acts makes it clear that Paul’s gospel as articulated in 1 Cor 15:1–5 and epitomized in 15:10 is the same gospel expounded by the apostles Peter, John, and James, but foremost by Paul himself in Acts, as Luke accurately records. e.  Acts divulges, through its prologue, that Luke is the human author, whereas the “real author” is Christ.35 Especially as the “we” passages, for example, Acts 16:10–18, link Luke with the Luke mentioned by Paul in 2 Tim 4:10 (cf. 2 Cor 18:8) and other references, there is no doubt that Luke is the author. Yet what is more important to Chrysostom is that the actual author is Christ himself! (“There can be no mistake in attributing this work to him [Luke]: and when I say, to him, I mean, to Christ” [ὥστε οὐκ ἄν τις ἁμάρτοι τὴν πραγματείαν ταύτην αὐτῷ ἀναθείς – Ὅταν δὲ εἴπω, τούτῳ, τῷ Χριστῷ λέγω]). Chrysostom, in fact, links the instructions of Christ in Acts 1:3–8 to the authority and content of the words used by Luke. In other words, the teachings of the resurrected-crucified One are the basis for the whole Book of Acts. Chrysostom distinguishes between the Spirit as the personal medium, facilitator, and energizer through which Jesus spoke and acted in the Gospels just as the Spirit continues this role in the Book of Acts: “You shall be baptized by the Holy Spirit …” indicates that the Spirit is the personal power of Jesus’s presence even as Jesus himself is the “One who baptizes with / ​by / ​through the Holy Spirit” (Acts 1:5). Or in Chrysostom’s words, “even as Christ here in the Acts still works in humans as He did in the Gospels.”36  NPNF1 11:1 [PG 60:13, 15]. then, besides, there are doctrines to be found here, which we could not have known so surely as we now do, if this Book had not existed, but the very crowning of our salvation would be hidden, alike for practice of life and for doctrine,” Ἔστι δὲ καὶ δόγματα ἐνταῦθα εὑρεῖν, ἅπερ, εἰ μὴ τοῦτο ἦν τὸ βιβλίον, οὐδενὶ σαφῶς οὕτω γνώριμα ἐγένοντο· ἀλλὰ τὸ κεφάλαιον τῆς σωτηρίας ἡμῶν ἀπεκρύπτετο, καὶ ἄδηλον ἦν, καὶ βίου καὶ δογμάτων ἕνεκεν (NPNF1 11:1–2 [PG 60:15]). 35  “And the reason is, that the author of this Book, that is, the blessed Luke, was his companion: a man whose high qualities, sufficiently visible in many other instances, are especially shown in the firm adherence to his Teacher, whom he constantly followed,” Καὶ τὸ αἴτιον, ὅτι αὐτοῦ φοιτητὴς ἦν ὁ τὸ βιβλίον τοῦτο συνθεὶς Λουκᾶς ὁ μακάριος· οὗ τὴν ἀρετὴν πολλαχόθεν μὲν καὶ 33

34 “And

ἄλλοθεν ἔστιν ἰδεῖν, μάλιστα δὲ ἐκ τοῦ πρὸς τὸν Διδάσκαλον ἀδιασπάστως ἔχειν, καὶ διαπαντὸς αὐτῷ παρακολουθεῖν (NPNF1 11:2 [PG 60:15]).

36  “The Gospels, then, are a history of what Christ did and said; but the Acts, of what that ‘other Comforter’ said and did. Not but that the Spirit did many things in the Gospels also; even as Christ here in the Acts still works in men as He did in the Gospels.” Τὰ μὲν οὖν Εὐαγγέλια, ὧν ὁ Χριστὸς ἐποίησε καὶ εἶπεν ἱστορία τίς ἐστιν· αἱ δὲ Πράξεις, ὧν ὁ ἕτερος Παράκλητος εἶπε καὶ ἐποίησε. Καὶ τότε μὲν γὰρ πολλὰ καὶ αὐτὸς ἐποίει, ὥσπερ οὖν καὶ νῦν ὁ Χριστὸς ἐνεργεῖ, καθάπερ καὶ τότε (NPNF1 11:7 [PG 60:21]).

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f.  Acts depicts Jesus primarily as a human being and has far less concern to present his Godhead. The reason, Chrysostom argues, is that the Jewish people needed to understand how a Messiah / ​savior figure could be crucified and then believe that he had risen from the dead. “It was mostly of the human-ness (ἀνθρωπότητος) that they discussed.”37 So the apostles have to “condescend” and start gently with the basic facts of Jesus of Nazareth so that the audiences can come to comprehend how Jesus had risen from the dead, ascended to the Father, and therefore had ultimately come from God. For Chrysostom, then, the primary role of Acts is a “demonstration of the resurrection” (ἀπόδειξις ἀναστάσεως), “once this is believed, the rest [of the details] would come in due course”38 (NPNF1 11:3 [PG β, 60:16, lines 19–20]).

III. Conclusions 1.  As uneven and checkered as the history of the reception of Acts has been in the West, there is significant evidence that before the end of the second century Acts was appreciated and utilized as a ‘canonical’ witness to the heart of “the gospel.” 2. The fluidity of its position within the multiple canonical listings from various periods and a variety of geographical settings suggests that the apostolic imprimatur of authority that Acts stamps upon Peter, John, James, and Paul renders Acts especially qualified to link the works of these apostles together in a chain of authority or standard of the truth of the Gospel for a “measure” or “canon” of books. This “bridge”-effect of Acts seems to be especially true for linking Paul to the Gospels, on one side, and to either some form of the Catholic Epistles or to Revelation on the other. Unlike the Catholic Epistles, Acts does not exhibit ‘uncertainty’ or ‘marginality’ in its acceptance. 3.  The main reason, therefore, that there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that Luke and Acts were read and studied as one “book” in two sequel volumes by early Christian communities is due to the fact that the author Luke himself has made this point evident in his carefully crafted overlap of the beginning of Acts with the ending of Luke. The suffering-risen Christ who speaks, acts, and takes over the voice of the continuing narrator of the first volume is himself the primary ‘narrative-story voice,’ the hermeneutical authority whose speech will resonate behind the continuation of “all that he began to do and to teach” (Acts 1:1) throughout his public activity (the Four Gospels). Instead of hearing Luke’s voice through the narrator as the primary hermeneutical ‘microphone’ of  τὰ δὲ πλείονα περὶ τῆς ἀνθρωπότητος διελέγοντο (PG 60:15, trans. mine).  Καὶ γὰρ τοῦτο μάλιστά ἐστι τουτὶ τὸ βιβλίον, ἀπόδειξις ἀναστάσεως. Τούτου δὲ πιστευθέντος, ὁδῷ καὶ τὰ ἄλλα προὔβαινεν (Hom. Act. 1.2, NPNF1 11:3 [PG 60:16]). 37 38

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communication to later generations, the collapse or transumption of metalepsis privies the church to the hermeneutics of Jesus himself, the Risen, Crucified One, exalted in Heaven, somatically present with the church on earth in “flesh and bones!” So when Peter “opens the scriptures” to interpret what is happening on the Day of Pentecost (Acts 2), Luke’s Greek-hearing audiences know that the voice of Peter and that of the narrator derive from and echo the voice of the Risen One whose baptism of the Holy Spirit upon the apostles vouchsafes the authoritative teaching and interpretation of the Kingdom of God’s present reign through the speaking and acting of Jesus himself “in / ​through / ​by” the power of the Holy Spirit. Thus, through a metaleptic collapse of the world of Jesus of Nazareth of the Gospel into that of the Risen-Crucified One of the church (Acts 1:4a to 1:4b), Luke signals loudly and clearly that, as Chrysostom put it, Christ is the “real author” of “this strange new dish” called Acts!

Appendix 1 In a relatively new series, Narratology and Interpretation – the goal of which is “to write a history of Greek literature from a narratological point of view” (p. 1) – Irene de Jong has taken up Genette’s suspicion that ancient Greek narrative, in particular, exhibits more instances of metalepsis than previously thought.39 She categorizes five types of metaleptic transgressing of the boundaries between the orb of ‘narrating’ and that of ‘the narrated.’ Two of these types are especially instructive for understanding Acts 1:1–14: 1.  Characters of the diegesis address each other to announce what will take place in the rest of the diegesis and thereby de facto enter the world of narration. De Jong points to Helen’s address of Hector in Iliad 6.357–58, where Helen tells of Zeus’s vile destiny for them such that they “shall be subjects of song for people of future generations.” De Jong comments: “It is impossible for the narratees not to think of the Iliad itself when hearing Helen’s words; she would thus be ‘referring to’ the very text the Homeric narrator is recounting at that moment.”40 The net effect of this metaleptic transference is neither the comic nor the phantastic of postmodern narrative but rather the enhancement of the authority and status of the narrator as well as the authority of the story told. As Jesus takes over the voice of the narrator in Acts 1:4b does his prophecy to the apostles in Acts 1:5 – that they “will be baptized by the Holy Spirit not after many days as these” – function in a similar way to lead Luke’s audience to hear 39 Irene de Jong, “Metalepsis in Ancient Greek Literature” in Narratology and Interpretation: The Content of Narrative Form in Ancient Literature, ed. J. Grethlein and A. Rengakos, 4 vols. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2009), 4.87–115. 40 Ibid., 98.

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the voice of the risen Jesus as blending with the telling of the story that follows of the Acts of those apostles? 2.  Where the voice of the narrator merges with the voice of a reported narrator or character of the diegesis it is not always possible to determine where one ends and the other begins. De Jong refers to Odyssey Book 8 where instead of narrating Demodocus’s song in direct speech so that he would become a secondary or metadiegetic narrator (as with Odysseus in Books 9–12), the Homeric narrator moves to indirect speech such that his voice and that of Demodocus become blended and finally indiscriminate. As she points out, at the linguistic level, slippage from a dependent subordinate infinitive construction to a straightforward independent construction – from the more complex to the simpler – is typical of oral-aural culture’s narrating. Yet this observation only underscores the technique or architecture that renders and thus generates narrative-epic meaning. αὐτὰρ ὁ φορμίζων ἀνεβάλλετο καλὸν ἀείδειν ἀμφ’ Ἄρεος φιλότητος ἐϋστεφάνου τ’ Ἀφροδίτης ὡς τὰ πρῶτ’ ἐμίγησαν ἐν Ἡφαίστοιο δόμοισι λάθρῃ· πολλὰ δ’ ἐδῶκε … (Odyssey 8.266–70). Thus plucking his lyre he began to sing beautifully about the love-affair of Ares and the fair-crowned Aphrodite how they in secret mingled in love for the first time in Hephaestus’ house. And he [Ares] gave many gifts … (trans. mine).

It is only some hundred lines later that Demodocus’s song ends with the reminder, “This song the famous minstrel sang” (ταῦτ’ ἄρ’ ἀοιδὸς ἄειδε περικλυτός, 8.367). Thus at the narrative-performative level, it is not clear whether a bard like a Demodocus forms an image of Homer himself such that the ancient singer performs Homer’s singing, or whether Demodocus is allowed to intrude, even if discreetly, into the performance itself to become in effect at that point, the song of the Odyssey. De Jong, I think rightly, opts for both, concluding that this metalepsis is a conscious move for Homer to fuse the voice of a venerable poet of the past with his own, and thereby embellish his own authority to sing the tale (“his own song is just as good as a song of the heroic past”41). Through Jesus’ direct address-charge to the apostles the author-narrator transports the audience back to that first level narration of the Gospel volume to hear, re-configure, and thus re-signify the entirety of “all that Jesus began to do and to teach,” while at the same time receiving new ‘hearing aids’ to discern and follow the newly launched first level or intra-diegetic narration of Acts. As audience, we are in effect to continue hearing and seeing Jesus act and teach, as our author-narrator begins to blend the world narrated in volume one with the world that continues to be narrated in the ongoing volume. 41 Ibid.,

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Appendix 2 How extensive is the prima facie evidence in Acts for Jesus as a primary actor or speaker? 1. Acts 1:15–5:42. Jesus is present primarily through his “name” (τὸ ὄνομα) (continuing LXX usage): He speaks through various agents, healing, for example through the apostles; “faith” can be said to be directed toward Jesus’s active presence: Acts 2:38–39 → 2:47: “Baptized into the name of Jesus Christ” is aligned with a “call” from “the Lord our God”: “Lord” (κύριος) is ambivalent in referent, following the two “Lords” of LXX Pss 15 and 109 and echoing Joel 3:5, τὸ ὄνομα κυρίου, Acts 2:21; and “the κύριος adding daily to the whole,” 2:47b. 3:1–26: 3:6, Peter to paralytic: “in / ​through the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk” (ἐν τῷ ὀνόματι Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ τοῦ Ναζωραίου [ἔγειρε καὶ] περιπάτει) → 3:16, “and by means of faith / ​trust in his name, his name itself has strengthened this one, and the faith which is through him has given him [the paralytic] this wholeness of health” (ἐπὶ τῇ πίστει τοῦ ὀνόματος αὐτοῦ τοῦτον […] ἐστερέωσεν τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ, καὶ ἡ πίστις ἡ δι᾽ αὐτοῦ ἔδωκεν αὐτῷ τὴν ὁλοκληρίαν ταύτην) → 3:26, “Since God raised up his servant, he sent him first to you to bless you by each of you turning away from your wicked deeds” (ὑμῖν πρῶτον ἀναστήσας

ὁ θεὸς τὸν παῖδα αὐτοῦ ἀπέστειλεν αὐτὸν εὐλογοῦντα ὑμᾶς ἐν τῷ ἀποστρέφειν ἕκαστον ἀπὸ τῶν πονηριῶν ὑμῶν).

4:1–22: Peter and John are taken in custody before the Sanhedrin: 4:7, “by what power or by what name have you done this thing [healed the paralytic]” (ἐν ποίᾳ δυνάμει ἢ ἐν ποίῳ ὀνόματι ἐποιήσατε τοῦτο ὑμεῖς) → 4:10, “[…] that by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth […] through this one he [the paralytic] stands before you in good health” (ὅτι ἐν τῷ ὀνόματι Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ τοῦ Ναζωραίου […] ἐν τούτῳ οὗτος παρέστηκεν ἐνώπιον ὑμῶν ὑγιής) → 4:12, “for there is no other name under the heaven” (οὐδὲ γὰρ ὄνομά ἐστιν ἕτερον ὑπὸ τὸν οὐρανόν) → 4:17–18, “neither to speak to anyone by this name […] nor to teach by the name of Jesus” (μηκέτι λαλεῖν ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόματι τούτῳ μηδενὶ […] μηδὲ διδάσκειν ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόματι τοῦ Ἰησοῦ) [compare Acts 1:1!]. 4:23–33: Peter and John return to “their own gathered” disciples, called “servants” (4:29): 4:30, “signs and wonders occur through the name of your holy servant Jesus” (σημεῖα καὶ τέρατα γίνεσθαι διὰ τοῦ ὀνόματος τοῦ ἁγίου παιδός σου Ἰησοῦ) → 4:33, “with great power the apostles were providing witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus” (δυνάμει μεγάλῃ ἀπεδίδουν τὸ μαρτύριον οἱ ἀπόστολοι τῆς ἀναστάσεως τοῦ κυρίου Ἰησοῦ). 5:12–42: The Twelve are arrested and appear before the Sanhedrin: 5:12, “through the hands of the apostles many signs and wonders were being performed” (διὰ δὲ τῶν χειρῶν τῶν ἀποστόλων ἐγίνετο σημεῖα καὶ τέρατα πολλά) → 5:14, “Yet more than ever those exhibiting faith were being added to the Lord” (μᾶλλον δὲ προσετίθεντο πιστεύοντες τῷ κυρίῳ) → 5:28, “We charged you not to teach by / ​through his name […] you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching […] you are determined to bring upon us the blood of this man” (παρηγγείλαμεν ὑμῖν μὴ διδάσκειν ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόματι τούτῳ […] πεπληρώκατε τὴν Ἰερουσαλὴμ τῆς διδαχῆς ὑμῶν […] βούλεσθε ἐπαγαγεῖν ἐφ᾽ ἡμᾶς τὸ αἷμα τοῦ ἀνθρώπου τούτου) → 5:41–42, “they went on their way with joy […] to be considered worthy to receive dishonor for the sake of the name […] not ceasing in their teaching and their proclaiming the good news that

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Jesus is the Messiah” (ἐπορεύοντο χαίροντες […] κατηξιώθησαν ὑπὲρ τοῦ ὀνόματος ἀτιμασθῆναι […] ἐπαύοντο διδάσκοντες καὶ εὐαγγελιζόμενοι τὸν χριστόν Ἰησοῦν).

2. Acts 6:1–8:40. Stephen is aligned with the Jesus of Nazareth who is capable of destroying the Temple, presumably at any moment. Yet in this transition from the original apo­ stolic witness in Jerusalem (Acts 1:15–5:41) to Paul’s more universal mission to both Jew and Gentile alike (9:1 [passim] through 28:31), though the enthroned Jesus of Nazareth welcomes Stephen’s “witness” before the “standing attendants” as witnesses in the Heavenly Throne Room (see especially Dan 7:9–18), there is no direct speech or action of Jesus at the earthly level of plotted action. Before his accusers Stephen claims he can see this Jesus “standing […] the Son of Humankind standing at the right hand of God”: 6:1–15: Stephen, working signs and wonders, is seized and accused before the Sanhedrin: 6:7, “The word of God kept increasing” (ὁ λόγος τοῦ θεοῦ ηὔξανεν) → 6:13,“saying that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place [Temple]” (λέγοντος ὅτι Ἰησοῦς ὁ Ναζωραῖος οὗτος καταλύσει τὸν τόπον τοῦτον). 7:1–60: Stephen’s Speech and Reaction: 7:55–56: Stephen: “saw […] Jesus standing […] ‘I see the Son of Humankind standing at the right hand of God’” (εἶδεν […] Ἰησοῦν ἑστῶτα […] θεωρῶ τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐκ δεξιῶν ἑστῶτα τοῦ θεοῦ). 8:1–40: Philip and Peter and John in Samaria, and Philip in Gaza: 8:12: Philip “proclaiming the good news of the Kingdom of God […] and the name of Jesus Christ” (εὐαγγελιζομένῳ περὶ τῆς βασιλείας τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ τοῦ ὀνόματος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ). 8:6, 13: Philip an agent of “signs and mighty works taking place” (σημεῖα καὶ δυνάμεις μεγάλας γινομένας).

3. Acts 9:1–30 and Two ‘Relectures’ of the ‘Calling’ of Paul with Paul as Narrator (22:4–21 → 26:9–20). The direct voice of the risen-crucified Jesus of Acts 1:4b is heard again for the first time addressing Paul, “Why are you persecuting me?!” (9:4). But unlike Jesus’s commissioning of the Twelve,42 this voice will continue to speak directly through Paul in a way unattested with the Twelve. In fact, Paul, not the Twelve, will fulfill the proemial voice to be Jesus’s witness to the “ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). Paul becomes the witness of witnesses for the Jesus who continues to speak and enact salvation through Paul in unprecedented ways: 9:1–30: Saul / ​Paul encounters Jesus the Lord who appears to him, speaks to him, and sends him (through Ananias) to Israel and the Nations as one “who must suffer for the sake of my [Jesus’s] name”: 9:16, “I myself will show him how much he will have to suffer for the sake of my name” (ἐγὼ γὰρ ὑποδείξω αὐτῷ ὅσα δεῖ αὐτὸν ὑπὲρ τοῦ ὀνόματός μου παθεῖν). 22:4–21 and 26:9–20: Paul’s hypodiegetic commentary progressively heightens the role that the acting and direct speaking of Jesus “the Lord” and / ​or the “Lord God” play in 42 Actually

the “Eleven” in Acts 1:4b–8.

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engaging Paul to “turn around” from being chief antagonist to prime protagonist through Jesus’s own presence in the fulfilled reign of God: 22:10: Now Paul extends the conversation with the “Lord” on the Damascus Road (compare 9:5–6; Luke 24:13–35): “But the Lord said to me: ‘Get up and go into Damascus and there I will tell you about all the things that I have commanded you to do” (ὁ δὲ κύριος εἶπεν πρός με· ἀναστὰς πορεύου εἰς Δαμασκὸν κἀκεῖ σοι λαληθήσεται περὶ πάντων ὧν τέτακταί σοι ποιῆσαι) → 22:17–21: Paul telescopes the later Temple encounter when in a trance he will see Jesus saying to him, “Move quickly and get out of Jerusalem in a hurry for they will not accept your witness concerning me”43 (σπεῦσον καὶ ἔξελθε ἐν τάχει ἐξ Ἰερουσαλήμ, διότι οὐ παραδέξονταί σου μαρτυρίαν περὶ ἐμοῦ [compare 22:20 and 7:55–56: Paul protests appealing to Stephen’s vision]) → v. 26, “Go, for I will send you myself far away into the nations” (πορεύου, ὅτι ἐγὼ εἰς ἔθνη μακρὰν ἐξαποστελῶ σε) → 26:16–18: Now Paul collapses Ananias’s role as mediator of revelation into the voice of the Lord himself. Jesus tells Paul directly that he must be both “servant” and “witness” to the things he has seen in the Jesus he has been persecuting and bear witness to all those things through which Jesus himself will appear and reveal to Paul: “For this purpose I have appeared to you, to appoint you to be a servant and witness of those things which you have seen of me and to those things of which I shall disclose to you, rescuing you from the people and from those of the nations to which I am sending you to open their eyes, to turn them around from darkness to the light, from the authority of Satan to that of God, so that they might receive release from their sins and an inheritance among those who have been made holy by means of their faith which is entrusted to me” (εἰς τοῦτο γὰρ ὤφθην σοι, προχειρίσασθαί σε ὑπηρέτην καὶ μάρτυρα ὧν τε εἶδές [με] ὧν τε ὀφθήσομαί σοι, ἐξαιρούμενός σε ἐκ τοῦ λαοῦ καὶ ἐκ τῶν ἐθνῶν εἰς οὓς ἐγὼ ἀποστέλλω

σε ἀνοῖξαι ὀφθαλμοὺς αὐτῶν, τοῦ ἐπιστρέψαι ἀπὸ σκότους εἰς φῶς καὶ τῆς ἐξουσίας τοῦ σατανᾶ ἐπὶ τὸν θεόν, τοῦ λαβεῖν αὐτοὺς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν καὶ κλῆρον ἐν τοῖς ἡγιασμένοις πίστει τῇ εἰς ἐμέ).

4. Acts 9:31–28:31. Though Peter’s voice predominates in presenting the ‘word’ and ‘name’ of the Lord in the first five chapters of Acts, it is Jesus’s voice that takes over the narrator’s and Paul’s own voice in a fashion similar to the metaleptic transumption of Acts 1:4b. Thus Jesus’s direct speech takes precedence over any other voice, thereby defining and disseminating in the last two-thirds of Acts the presence of “the Lord” who reigns in the Kingdom of God: 10:1–11:15: Peter tells Cornelius’s household in 10:43 that “all the prophets bear witness through this one (τούτῳ [Ἰησοῦ τῷ ἀπὸ Ναζαρέθ] […] οἱ προφῆται μαρτυροῦσιν) that release of sins is received through his name (διὰ τοῦ ὀνόματος αὐτοῦ).” 10:9–16→11:5–10: Peter in a trance “sees” a sheet with unclean animals lowered from heaven with a voice telling him to “kill and eat;” Peter later understands this voice to have been from “the Lord” (10:14; 11:8). 11:16: Peter only later aligns the coming of the Spirit upon the Gentile household with the “word of the Lord” of Acts 1:4b–5! [15:6–11: Similar to Paul, Peter eventually understands the whole Cornelius episode to be God’s own “bearing witness” to the Gentiles through the Spirit].

43 Acts

9:26–30.

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13:13–52 Paul in Antioch of Pisidia: “to you through this one release of sins is being proclaimed” (διὰ τούτου ὑμῖν ἄφεσις ἁμαρτιῶν καταγγέλλεται). (13:47–49: Paul reports, “‘I [the Lord] have appointed you [Paul and Barnabas and entourage] to be a light of the Gentiles, in order that you might be salvation to the end of the earth’” [τέθεικά σε {…} σε είς σωτηρίαν {…}] [Isa 49:6 describing the “servant” Israel as both a group of Israel to Israel and an individual who represents that group par excellence, now fulfilling the command given by the “Lord Jesus” to the twelve (eleven) apostles in Acts 1:8 to extend his witness “to the end of the earth.”]) 14:1–6 Paul in Iconium [of Lycaonia]: Paul and Barnabas “speak openly on behalf of the Lord [Jesus] who himself bears witness to the word of his grace” (παρρησιαζόμενοι ἐπὶ τῷ κυρίῳ τῷ μαρτυροῦντι ἐπὶ τῷ λόγῳ τῆς χάριτος αὐτοῦ). 26:1–29: Paul before Festus and Agrippa [Caesarea]: Summing up his entire calling: Paul has taken his stand “by bearing witness (μαρτυρόμενος) […] saying nothing other than those things which Moses and the prophets said would take place, namely, that there would be a suffering Messiah, and that being the first of the resurrection from the dead, he himself [suffering Messiah] would proclaim light to the people and to the nations (εἰ

παθητὸς ὁ χριστός, εἰ πρῶτος ἐξ ἀναστάσεως νεκρῶν φῶς μέλλει καταγγέλλειν τῷ τε λαῷ καὶ τοῖς ἔθνεσιν, 26:23).

The Interrelationship of Friendship, Hospitality, and Philanthropy in Luke’s Writings Mikeal C. Parsons

I. Introduction At various points in his magisterial commentary on Acts, Richard Pervo mentions Luke’s use of or allusion to the ancient practices of friendship, hospitality, and philanthropy.1 In this essay, I analyze three social practices as presented in the Lukan writings in an effort to understand how they relate to each other, at least in Luke’s understanding. Hospitality, philanthropy, and friendship often overlapped, and the lines between them were frequently blurred. For the purpose of analysis, it is helpful to separate these three strands to understand their function (and perhaps subversion?) in early Christianity, at least as Luke portrayed them. We are further justified in separating the practices because Luke himself seems to do this by assigning particular roles and responsibilities to each custom. The Venn Diagram in Table 1 displays both the distinctive features in Luke’s presentation of friendship, hospitality, and philanthropy, as well as their overlap. This disaggregation is clearly evident in Luke 10–11, in which the customs are clustered together. There we find an interrelation of philanthropy (in the story of the Good Samaritan, 10:25–37), hospitality (in the story of Mary and Martha, 10:38–42) and friendship (in the parable of the Friend at Midnight, 11:1–10). The social custom of friendship (φιλία) underlies the parable of the Friend at Midnight (11:5–8). The parable reflects a web of obligations, and here the word “friend” (φίλος) is prominent, occurring three times in five verses. In Greco-Roman society there was no better or more noble good than private, genuine friendship (Plutarch, Adul. amic. 49F). The key to the parable is that the obligations are to intimate acquaintances, friends and not strangers. A person is a friend both to the one to whom he is giving the gift of food and a friend to the one from whom he requests it. So this is an “insider” to “insider” relationship. The setting, in this case, is a house (or houses). The arrangement, at least between 1  See Richard I. Pervo, Acts: A Commentary, Hermeneia, (ed. Harold W. Attridge Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 91 n. 25; 127; 272; 655–56.

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Philanthropy – Outsider – Ad Hoc Protocols (under duress)

Temporary Arrangement

Unspecified Setting Insider

Friendship – Permanent arrangement – Unlimited Protocols

Insider House Setting

Hospitality – Outsider – Set Protocols

Key Participants: Insider or Outsider Setting: House of Unspecified Arrangement: Permanent or Temporary Protocols: Set/Unlimited/Ad hoc

the sleeper and the friend at the door, is a permanent one. The protocols are unlimited: in this particular case, they revolve around the sharing of bread. One of the key components of genuine friendship was commonality. True friends did not cling to their possessions as their own private property. Rather, friends shared everything, tangibly demonstrating their affection for and commitment to one another. The friend at the door is obligated to provide for the friend who has shown up unannounced at his home in the middle of the night. The friend asleep in his bed is obligated to fulfill the request of his friend for three loaves. In the story of Mary and Martha we find the social custom of hospitality (ξενία) on display (10:38–42). The constant social context in ancient hospitality scenes appears to be travel, and the setting is a house. The arrangement is temporary, lasting only so long as the guest remains. Protocols were set: hosts were expected to provide food, shelter, amenities, and protection to these traveling strangers. The participants are insiders and outsiders. By “welcoming” Jesus (who, though

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familiar, still fulfills the role of the “Other”) and preparing a meal for him, Martha was engaging in the actions expected of a hospitable host (even though Jesus’s point in the story is that, in some instances, some things may be more important than hospitality). The social practice of φιλανθρωπία was most often expressed in antiquity by offering assistance, especially in times of trouble. Although the term φιλανθρωπία is missing from the text, according to Ronald Hock, the actions of the Good Samaritan in having mercy and extending compassion on the traveler on the road to Jericho most closely resembles a philanthropic act.2 The Good Samaritan is an outsider extending assistance to an insider (a Jew) to the Lukan Jesus’s audience. The setting is unspecified, in this case somewhere on the road between Jericho and Jerusalem. The arrangement is temporary; the Good Samaritan binds the man’s wounds and pays for his convalescence. These actions are ad hoc; the Samaritan does what is necessary to provide assistance to the one under duress. In what follows, I will take up each of these practices in detail, as understood in the ancient world and as portrayed by Luke.

II. Friendship in Antiquity Friendship was an important cultural value in the ancient world.3 In classical times, Aristotle (Eth. nic. 8.4.2–6) claimed that there were three levels of friendship based on (1) virtue (which was very rare and enduring); (2) pleasure (where each friend derives the same benefit; e. g., friendship between two witty people); or (3) utility (such friendship dissolves as soon as its profit ceases). By Hellenistic times, friendship (φιλία / ​amicitia) covered a wide array of social relationships, including those between non-equals of different social standing or economic means.4 Public friendships among political allies or between patrons and clients 2 Ronald F. Hock, “Why New Testament Scholars Should Read Ancient Novels,” Ancient Fiction and Early Christian Narratives (ed. R. F. Hock; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), 132–37. 3 For a thorough assessment of friendship in late antiquity, see Martin M. Culy, Jesus – Friend of God, Friend of His Followers: Echoes of Friendship in the Gospel of John (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2010), 34–86. See also J.-C. Fraisse, Philia: La Notion d’Amitié dans la Philosphie Antique, Bibliothèque d’Histoire de la Philosophie (Paris: Librairie Philosophique J. Vrin, 1974); Samuel N. Eisenstadt and L. Roniger, Patrons, Clients and Friends: Interpersonal Relations and the Structure of Trust in Society, Themes in the Social Sciences (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984); John T. Fitzgerald, ed., Greco-Roman Perspectives on Friendship, SBLRBS 34 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997); David Konstan, Friendship in the Classical World, Key Themes in Ancient History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); and R. Metzner, “In aller Freundschaft. ein frühchristlicher Fall freundschaftlicher Gemeinschaft (Phil 2.25–30),” NTS 48 (2002): 111–31. 4  See Eisenstadt and Roniger, Patrons, Clients and Friends, 52–64; Benjamin Fiore, “The Theory and Practice of Friendship in Cicero,” in Greco-Roman Perspectives on Friendship, 73; Konstan, Friendship in the Classical World, 7; and Culy, Echoes of Friendship, 57.

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could cross these social boundaries and were typically of the utilitarian variety. With private friendships, Cicero argued, one had to distinguish between friendships of advantage and “true” friendships (e. g., Cicero, Amic. 17.64). The former was a considered a necessary evil, while the latter was highly desirable. Cicero considered true friendship to be the most valuable gift, with the exception of wisdom, that the gods had granted to humankind (Amic. 6.20). Three characteristics marked true friendship.5 The first was unity; true friends shared common interests. According to Sallust, “agreement in likes and dislikes – this, and only this, is what constitutes true friendship” (Sallust, Bell. Cat., 35; [Rolfe]). Cicero expresses the unity characteristic of friendship as follows: “When two people have the same ideals and the same tastes, it is a natural consequence that each loves the other as himself; and the result, is, as Pythagoras requires of ideal friendship, that several are united … by the ties of enduring intimacy” (Off. 1.17.56 [Miller, LCL]). Unity in relations naturally led to a second characteristic of genuine friendship: mutuality. Aristotle’s slogan, “Friends have all things in common” (Eth. Nic. 9.8.2; see earlier Plato, Phaedr. 279), was proverbial during Hellenistic times.6 The unity of interests extended to the tangible expression of shared material possessions. The Greek novel An Ethiopian Story makes this dimension of friendship clear. Nausikles speaks about his friendship with former houseguests: It would be much to my liking if you were to decide to stay and live here in my house forevermore, sharing my possessions and all that I hold most dear. You see, I have come to think of you not as guests staying a while in my home but as true friends, who reciprocate my feelings, and thus nothing you may ask of me shall I consider the slightest imposition. (An Ethiopian Story 6.6 [Morgan, CAGN, 477])

The third characteristic of genuine friendship was that it presumed social equality. Cicero, Plutarch, Dio Chrysostom, and a host of others cited Pythagoras’s proverb, “Friendship is equality.”7 By the Roman period social equality was not a rigid perquisite. We have seen this already with political alliances and patron-client relationships, but several alternatives were available to those of unequal social standing who wished to pursue true friendship. Cicero, for example, argued that “the superior should put himself on a level with his inferior, so the latter ought not to grieve that he is surpassed by the former in intellect, fortune, or position” (Amic. 20.7.1 [Falconer, LCL]). The Stoic Seneca offered another solution. Rather, a “socially inferior” friend could return gratitude or loyalty in return for gifts shared by the social superior (Ben. 2.31–35 [Basore, LCL]).8 Thus, in discussing the issue of whether slaves and masters should share meals,  What follows draws on the work of my former student, Culy, Echoes of Friendship, 34–86. Culy, Echoes of Friendship, 51 n. 79 for a list of authors who quoted or paraphrased Aristotle. 7  See Culy, Echoes of Friendship, 56 n. 102. 8 John M. Barclay, Paul and the Gift (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 45–50. 5

6 See

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Seneca tells Lucilius: “You need not, my dear Lucilius, hunt for friends only in the forum or in the Senate-house; if you are careful and attentive, you will find them at home also” (Ep. 47.16 [Gummere, LCL]). While this cannot be taken as clear evidence that Seneca thought “true” friendships could emerge from slave / ​ master relationships, it is a move away from the rigid view that friendships were limited to those who shared social rank and cracked the door open for a different understanding of the shape of social relations that underpinned ancient friendship (see also Pliny, Ep. 2.6.3). We will return again to the issue of inequitable social and economic standing in our discussion of friendship in Acts.

III. Friendship in Early Christianity and Luke / ​Acts Given the pervasiveness of the social custom of friendship in antiquity, we are not surprised to find evidence of it among early Christian writers.9 According to Alan Mitchell, “Luke uses friendship more than any other NT author, adding it in some places in the Gospel where it is lacking in synoptic parallels (Luke 7:6, 12:4, 15:6, 21:16).”10 Luke’s use of the language of friendship reflects the varying Hellenistic perceptions of it. In Luke 7:6, the term “friend” describes subordinates: “When he [Jesus] was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to say to him” (cf. John 4:5).11 In other places, “friend” functions as a patron: “Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!” (Luke 7:34).12 Luke also uses the term friend in relationship to presumed social equals: “When he [the shepherd] comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors” (Luke 15:6; see 15:9, 29). When we move to Acts, we see the concept of friendship functioning to describe the social relations within the Christian community, of insider to insider. The summary statements in Acts 2 and 4 describe the practices of the early Jerusalem congregation. Although neither the term for “friendship” (φιλία) or “friend” (φίλος) occurs in these passages, interpreters since the eighteenth century have recognized that the ancient custom of friendship shapes Luke’s depic 9 See, e. g., John T. Fitzgerald, ed., Friendship, Flattery, and Frankness of Speech: Studies on Friendship in the New Testament World (Leiden: Brill, 1996); idem, “Christian Friendship: John, Paul, and the Philippians,” Int 61 (2007): 284–96; Luke T. Johnson, “Making Connections: The Material Expression of Friendship in the New Testament,” Int 58 (2004): 158–71; Alan C. Mitchell, “‘Greet the Friends by Name’: New Testament Evidence for the Greco-Roman Topos on Friendship,” in Greco-Roman Perspectives on Friendship, 141–60; Peter Marshall, Enmity in Corinth: Social Conventions in Paul’s Relations with the Corinthians (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987). 10  Mitchell, “‘Greet the Friends by Name’,” 237. 11 Unless noted otherwise, all biblical quotations are from the NRSV. 12  On the role the Asiarchs play as Paul’s patronal “friends” in Acts 19:31, see Craig S. Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary, Vol. 3:15:1–23:35 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014), 2913–17.

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tion.13 Examining the Acts 4 passage, we clearly see the first two characteristics of ancient friendship highlighted: (1) Unity: the “whole group of believers were of one heart and soul” (4:32; cf. 2:44). Unity does not imply conformity. There is plenty of evidence of disagreement in the early church, despite charges against Luke that he has painted an idyllic, rose-colored picture of the first Christian communities. Think of the debate over the inclusion of gentiles in the community in Acts 10–11 and 15 and the dispute between Paul and Barnabas over John Mark at the end of Acts 15. The early church practiced the discipline of being of “one heart and soul” even when they disagreed with each other. In fact, as the pagan writer Plutarch argued in his treatise, How to Tell a Flatterer from a Friend, the practice of friendship entailed engaging in “frank speech” or “candid criticism” in which friends spoke the truth to one another rather than flattering each other with words they wanted to hear. This deep unity led to (2) mutuality in the community, especially in terms of material possessions, so that “all who believed were together and had all things in common” (2:44, 4:33). The Jerusalem community “pooled” their possessions for the use of the common good. They met the needs of the widows and the poor and the spiritual needs of everyone. They devoted themselves together to the teaching of the apostles and they shared in the Lord’s table. But what about (3) equality? Luke tells us “there was not a needy person among them” (4:34). This does not mean, of course, that all the Jerusalem believers came from the same socio-economic stratum; rather, “as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need” (4:34–35). By pooling resources, the early Christian community in Jerusalem was able to meet the needs of the less fortunate in their group. This practice was both intra‑ and inter-congregational. Later, in Antioch, “the disciples determined that according to their ability, each would send relief to the believers living in Judea” (11:29). How then did reciprocity work, that is, how did the poor in the community “repay” the gifts of those who shared their wealth? Perhaps Luke has in mind the Stoic solution of Seneca in which the inferior party repaid the superior party with expressions of gratitude (Ben. 1.21; 1.15.3; 3.13.1–2).14 Certainly this is how the early Christian author of 1 Clement understood this relationship: “Let the one who is strong take care of the weak; and let the weak show due respect to the strong. Let the wealthy provide what is needed to the poor, and let the poor offer thanks to God, since he has given him someone to supply his need” (1 Clem. 38:2 [Ehrman, LCL]). Or perhaps the Jerusalem community took to heart the words 13  J. J. Wettstein, Novum Testamentum Graecum (Amsterdam Dommerian, 1751–1752), 2.470–71; cited by Alan C. Mitchell, “The Social Function of Friendship,” JBL 111 (1992): 255. 14 Cited by Barclay, Paul and the Gift, 48.

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of Jesus, who instructed his followers to “lend, expecting nothing in return” (Luke 6:35) and whose aphorism, “It is more blessed to give than to receive” is found only in Acts after an admonition by Paul that “by such work, we must support the weak” (20:34–35).15 In either case, reciprocity on the human level (exchanging for mutual benefit)16 is no longer the motivating factor in choosing friends. In such socially inequitable relationships, reciprocal reward may come as a result of sharing, but it is not the motivator, and the reward will be of a different kind, as Jesus notes, you will be “children of the Most High” (Luke 6:35). Barnabas is exemplary of this view. This constructed equality was confirmed by the use of fictive kinship language: the believers were “brothers [and sisters]” (cf. Acts 1:15, 16; 2:29; 3:22; 6:3; 9:17, 30; 10:23; 11:1, 12, 29; 12:17; 14:2; 15:1 passim). Whether Luke is describing an idealized Christian utopia or reflecting the reality of early Christian practice in Jerusalem, these summaries function to call Luke’s audience to practice koinonia as Christianized friendship based on Jesus’s teaching and admonitions in Israel’s Scriptures (Exod 22:21–24, et al.) in which the believers, who share in “one spirit,” are devoted wholly to each other, as shown in their pooling resources, and treat each other equally as brothers and sisters, despite differences in socio-economic levels.17

IV. Hospitality in the Ancient World The Greek word for hospitality is ξενία, which is related to ξένος (“stranger,” and from which we get the English word, xenophobia, “fear of strangers”).18 Hospitality in the ancient world was pervasive, and its practice was highly valued, especially among the Greeks. Hospitality was one of the practices that separated Greeks from “barbarians.” Generally, hospitality referred to a host and guest relationship on a private, individual level in which the guest was usually a traveler and often a stranger to the host. There were, however, different kinds of hospitality practiced on different levels. The custom could refer to the collective relationship between nations (see Herodotus, Hist. 1.27.5, 1.69.3), communities (Hist. 6.21), or families (Homer, Il. 6.215–31). Hospitality could also refer to temporary or permanent relationships. Of course, incidental, random acts of “simple hospitality” could lead to more permanent bonds of friendship or 15  Beverly Gaventa, The Acts of the Apostles (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 289–90, observes: “Verse 35 follows nicely in that it offers a theological warrant for Paul’s example. The ‘must’ of ‘we must support the weak’ again is the divine dei, mutual support reflects God’s own will.” 16  James A. Kelhoffer, “Reciprocity as Salvation: Christ as Salvific Patron and the Corresponding ‘Payback’ Expected of Christ’s Earthly Clients according to the Second Letter of Clement,” NTS 59 (2013): 433–56. 17  Mitchell, “The Social Function of Friendship in Acts,” 255–58; Pervo, Acts, 90–91. 18  For what follows, see the work of Andrew Arterbury, Entertaining Angels: Early Christian Hospitality in its Mediterranean Setting (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2005).

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“guest-friendship” in the case of individuals living at some distance from each other. In either case, some form of reciprocity was expected. For our purposes, we will focus on examples of temporary or “simple hospitality” with an eye toward how those relationships might mature into something more like friendship. Examples of simple hospitality, in which a host offers gifts of lodging and meals to a traveling stranger, go back to the beginning of Greek literature, Homer’s Odyssey. In fact, many interpreters of Homer’s writings find hospitality, or the lack thereof, to be a literary type-scene and dominant theme in that epic.19 In Books I–IV of the Odyssey, Telemachus, son of Odysseus and Penelope, embarks on a journey in search of his father, who has not returned home from the Trojan War. In Book III, Telemachus arrives at Pylos and is brought to see the head of the family, Nestor. Nestor is hosting a feast for family and friends, but when those gathered see “the strangers [Telemachus and company], they all came thronging about them, and clasped their hands in welcome, and bade them sit down” (3.34–35 [Murray, LCL]). Telemachus is provided a seat and encouraged to eat (3.36–41). Nestor invites Telemachus to join in offering libations to Poseidon (3.40–68). After dining, Telemachus reveals he is the son of Odysseus, and over the next few hours, Nestor provides Telemachus with a bed, bath, and new clothes. Nestor’s men escort him to Sparta, his next destination. Nestor is the perfect host, providing food and shelter to a stranger (and even more gifts when he learns Telemachus is son of Odysseus with whom he has a permanent guest-friendship relationship). Such scenes recur throughout the narrative. It may, therefore, be instructive to point out a scene marked not by hospitable actions but rather by a perversion of hospitality. In Book IX, Odysseus and his men are shipwrecked on the Isle of the Cyclops. They enter the cave of a Cyclops who they learn later is named Polyphemus; it is filled with milk and cheese and lambs and kids. Rather than taking the provisions they need and leaving as his comrades urged, Odysseus decides to stay “to the end that I might see the man himself, and whether he would give me gifts of hospitality” (9.228–229 [Murray, LCL]). So they eat their fill of cheese (inappropriate action for a guest! Cf. the scene of Penelope’s suitors in Book XXIV) and wait for the giant to return. When the Cyclops confronts Odysseus and his men, Odysseus introduces his group and says we “have come as suppliants … in the hope that you will give us hospitality, or in otherwise make some present, as is the due of strangers” (9.266–268 [Murray, LCL]). Rather than offering the requested hospitality, Odysseus reports that Polyphemus “sprang up and put forth his hands upon my comrades. Two of them at once he seized and dashed to the earth like puppies, and the brain flowed upon the ground and wetted the earth. Then he cut them limb from limb and made ready his supper and ate them as a mountain-nurtured 19  Steve Reece, The Stranger’s Welcome: Oral Theory and the Aesthetics of the Homeric Hospitality Scene (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1993).

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lion, leaving nothing – he ate the entrails and the flesh, and the marrowy bones” (9.288–293 [Murray, LCL]). Eating your guests is surely a perversion of hospitality in any culture! This story, of course, underlines the difference between the cultured Greeks who prize hospitality and the barbarians, such as the Cyclops, who do not. But why is hospitality so prized among the Greeks? The answers to this question are in the text, but I have purposely minimized them here. When Odysseus asks for hospitality from the Cyclops, he does so in the name of Zeus, whom he identifies as the “god of strangers” who “ever attends upon revered strangers” (9.269–70 [Murray, LCL]). In rejecting the request for hospitality, the Cyclops also rejects Zeus and does so defiantly: “A fool you are, stranger … that you bid me either to fear or shun the gods. For the Cyclops pays no heed to Zeus … nor the other gods, since truly we are far better than they. Nor would I, to avoid the wrath of Zeus, spare either you or your comrades, unless my own heart should bid me” (9.273–278 [Murray, LCL]). So Polyphemus’s perversion of hospitality is not just a matter of bad manners but rather a stark display of impiety. By extending hospitality to strangers, the pious also show their devotion to Zeus, who is the god of strangers. Even more, the Greeks believed that the gods often visited humans in the form of travelling strangers. As Penelope’s suitors put it later in the Odyssey, “the gods in the guise of strangers from afar, put on all manner of shapes, and visit the cities, beholding the violence and the righteousness of people” (17.485–487 [Murray, LCL]). So, for example, at the beginning of the Odyssey, the goddess Athena disguises herself in the form of a man, Mentes, and visits Telemachus in Ithaca, who offers the stranger hospitality (1.102–324). The practice of hospitality continues into the Hellenistic period, essentially unchanged.20 We can illustrate the practice during this period by appeal to Chariton’s Chaereas and Challirhoe, a Greek novel written in the first century CE and roughly contemporaneous with the first writings of the early Christians. Chariton’s novel contains several scenes with all the elements of requisite hospitality. At the very beginning of the novel, Leonas, servant of Dionysius, meets a character named Theron on the street. Theron is a pirate and a kidnapper, but Leonas only recognizes him as a “stranger” and offers him hospitality in his home. Leonas exclaims: “You must come to the house … and be my guest from this very minute!” (1.12.6–10 [Reardon, CAGN, 35]). In addition to lodging, Leonas offers Theron food and drink (1.13). Furthermore, Leonas hopes to receive reciprocal gifts from Theron: “Some god has delivered you to me to be my benefactor” (1.12.9 [Reardon, CAGN, 35]). Later when he sees Challirhoe (Theron’s captive, though this fact is unknown to Leonas), Leonas mistakes her 20  Gabriel Herman, Ritualised Friendship and the Greek City (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 7.

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for a goddess (1.14.4–6). Welcoming someone into the home, providing lodging and meals, and thinking the stranger is, in fact, a god in disguise: these are all elements of private hospitality. The custom of hospitality also figures prominently in Jewish literature, both of the biblical and Second Temple varieties, in which the Covenant Code (Exod 22:21, 23:9), the Levitical rules (Lev 19:33–34), and the prophetic tradition (Isa 14:1–3) command Jews to extend generous hospitality to the stranger. In Gen 18, Abraham extends hospitality to three strangers by washing their feet and offering them food. There is even the strong hint that these visitors were divine figures disguised in human form (cf. 18:1–2, 9, 13, 22; 19:1). The story of Abraham’s hospitality figures prominently and is embellished in subsequent literature such as Philo (Abr. 107–118), Josephus (Ant. 1.191–198), the Testament of Abraham (first or second century CE), and Genesis Rabbah (fifth century CE?). We might also mention the delightful Jewish apocryphal tale of Tobit in which Tobias is accompanied by Raphael, angel incognito, and afforded hospitality at the home of Raguel (7:10–11).21 Examples of hospitality from ancient pagan and Jewish literature could be multiplied many times over.

V. Hospitality in Early Christianity and Luke / ​Acts It is little surprise, then, that we find hospitality language and examples both in the New Testament and early Christian literature (cf., e. g., Did. 12).22 Paul says “extend hospitality to strangers” (Rom 12:13) and later provides a christological and theological basis for that injunction: “Welcome one another … just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God” (15:7). The author of Hebrews says, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers” (Heb 13:2a). Hebrews is aware of the tradition that strangers may be divine figures incognito because the author continues: “by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it” (13:2b). The Pastoral Epistles exhort bishops to be hospitable (1 Tim 3:2, Tit 1:8). The Shepherd of Hermas exhorts Christians to provide hospitality to others (Herm. Mand. 8.10) as does the Didache (12) and 1 Clement (1.2; 10.7; 11.1; 12.1, 3). No New Testament author explores the social custom of hospitality more frequently or more deeply than Luke. In fact, “Luke provides us with the clearest pictures of hospitality in the New Testament.”23 In Luke’s Gospel, the stories of the visitation by Mary to Elizabeth (1:39–56), Jesus’s dining with Simon the Pharisee (7:36–50), the mission of the disciples (9:1–6 and 10:1–16), Jesus in the  For more on Jewish hospitality, see Arterbury, Entertaining Angels, ch. 3. more on early Christian hospitality, see Arterbury, Entertaining Angels, ch. 4. 23  Arterbury, Entertaining Angels, 135. See also John Koenig, New Testament Hospitality: Partnership with Strangers as Promise and Mission, OBT 17 (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985), 85, 120. 21

22 For

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home of Mary and Martha (10:38–42) (noted above), and Jesus in the home of Zacchaeus (19:1–10) all contain various elements associated with hospitality. The story of Emmaus in Luke 24 also contains features commonly associated with hospitality, and we will return to it momentarily. Numerous passages in Acts could also be cited (16:11–15, 21:3–6, 21:7–16, 28:7–10), but pride of place clearly belongs to the story of Peter and Cornelius in Acts 9:43–11:18. There are actually three hospitality scenes here.24 First, Peter accepts hospitality from Simon the tanner, whose occupation was despised as “smelly” and “dirty” by Jews and gentiles alike (cf. Artemidorus, Onir. 4.56) and may even have rendered him ritually unclean from a Jewish perspective.25 In fact, it is here in Acts 10:6 that we encounter for the first time in Luke or Acts the use of the verb for “entertaining strangers,” ξενίζω (the word is repeated in relation to Peter “lodging” with Simon at 10:18 and 32). Peter has taken a first step in the process of changing his perspective on gentiles by accepting hospitality from an ostracized tanner, even if he is not yet quite fully conscious of the implications of his action. The second hospitality scene occurs in Acts 10:17–23a. Peter has just had the puzzling vision of the clean and unclean animals on the sheet when three gentile emissaries arrive from Cornelius’s house. The Spirit directs Peter to accompany them “without hesitation” (10:20). Now it is Peter who offers hospitality: “So he invited them in and gave them lodging” (10:23). It is unusual, but not unprecedented, for a guest in another’s home to offer hospitality to someone else (cf. e. g., Homer, Od. 17.38–386; Heliodorus, An Ethiopian Story 2.21.7). Still, the dynamic is unusual enough to heighten even more the fact that hospitality provides the social context for the story.26 Finally, then, the third hospitality scene occurs in Acts 10:24, when Peter enters into the house of Cornelius. Immediately Cornelius falls at Peter’s feet and worships him (10:25), presumably on the assumption that this traveling stranger is an angel.27 Peter corrects Cornelius’s assumption and reassures him, “I am only a mortal” (10:26). Furthermore, Peter shows that his own “conversion” is complete: “God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean.… I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him” (10:28, 34–35). Peter then proclaims the good news of Jesus, the Holy Spirit falls on Cornelius and his household, and they are baptized (10:36–48). What is the significance of hospitality in Luke’s narrative logic? On an ecclesial and missional level, there is the “importance of Christian hospitality for

 For what follows, cf. Arterbury, Entertaining Angels, 154–68. not “chronically unclean,” contra Luke Timothy Johnson, Acts of the Apostles, SP 5 (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1992), 179. 26  Arterbury, Entertaining Angels, 158. 27 Cf. Acts 14:1–8, 28:1–6, where pagans mistake Paul for a god. 24

25 Though

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spreading the gospel and fulfilling Christian mission.”28 Noteworthy also is the fact that the most explicit references to hospitality occur here in Acts 10–11 with the multiple uses of ξενίζω. Acts 10–11 represents the account of the first public conversion of a gentile (and his household), and thus hospitality is inextricably linked to cross-cultural interaction with the “Other.” Accepting hospitality from, and especially extending hospitality to, the Stranger is a hallmark of the Christian church on mission, as Luke portrays it.

VI. Philanthropy in the Ancient World The first uses of the term φιλανθρωπία occur in fifth-century Athenian drama.29 In Aeschylus’s Prometheus Bound, Kratos describes the reasons for the fate of the Titan god, Prometheus: “For such an offense he must assuredly pay his penalty to the gods, to teach him that he must accept the autocracy of Zeus and abandon his human-loving ways” (φιλανθρώπου τρόπου)” (Prom. 8–11; cf. 28 [Sommerstein, LCL]). Aristophanes’s Peace, from around the same time (421 BCE), describes the god Hermes as the “most human-loving (φιλανθρωπότατε) and most generous of the deities” (line 390).30 In Plato’s Symposium, this same Aristophanes labels Eros (and not Hermes) as the “most human-loving (φιλανθρωπότατος) of the gods” (189C). Laws, another of Plato’s works, describes Kronos as φιλάνθρωπος (4.713D) because he created a “golden age” for humans “characterized by peace and justice.”31 In these first occurrences, the adjective φιλανθρώπος is used “as an epithet of the gods, who were said to bestow gifts and other benefits upon humankind.”32 Ultimately, the adjective came to be especially associated with Asclepius, god of healing and patron of physicians.33 In Plato’s Euthyphro, the noun φιλανθρωπία was used of a human, in this case to describe the attitude of Socrates toward his fellow citizens. Socrates claims: “I fear that because of my love of men (φιλανθρωπία) they think that I not only pour myself out copiously to anyone and everyone without payment, but that I would even pay something myself, if anyone would listen to me” (Euthyphro 3D [Fowler, LCL]). This shift in the use of philanthropic terminology from descriptions of gods to humans was at first limited to exceptional persons, such as Socrates, Cyrus the Great (in Xenophon, Cyropaedeia 1.2.1), and Evagoras,  Arterbury, Entertaining Angels, 175.  For what follows, see Birger Pearson, Ancient Roots of Western Philanthropy (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1997). 30  Cited by Pearson, Ancient Roots of Western Philanthropy, 2. 31  Pearson, Ancient Roots of Western Philanthropy, 2. 32 Pearson, Ancient Roots of Western Philanthropy, 2. 33  Cf. Aristides, Or. 73.24 who describes Asclepius’s “kindness and love of humanity”; cited in Bruce Longenecker, Remember the Poor: Paul, Poverty, and the Greco-Roman World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 102 n. 20. 28 29

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King of Cyprus (Isocrates, Or. 9.43). Epictetus uses the term of the famous Cynic philosopher Diogenes, who “was so gentle and kind-hearted (φιλανθρώπος) that he gladly took upon himself all those troubles and physical hardships for the sake of the common weal” (Diatr. 3.24.64 [Oldfather, LCL]). In this stream of usage, φιλανθρωπία and φιλάνθρωπος refer to a virtue associated with the gods or “great men” of society; maybe at this point it is not so far removed from our modern notions of philanthropy, at least in terms of the persons described as being philanthropic, those removed from the ordinary citizen, whether gods or kings or famous philosophers. Greco-Roman philanthropy was also closely related to the practice of benefaction (εὐεργ – family). Local officials were expected to provide gifts to benefit the welfare of the city and its inhabitants; in return they received honor and gratitude – typical reciprocity.34 Much of the evidence for these benefactions is preserved in both literary texts and honorific inscriptions (which typically celebrate and honor the benefactor and his or her benefactions). The famous Rosetta Stone, a stone of black granite, contains an inscription in three scripts (hieroglyphic, Demotic, and Greek). It celebrates the contributions of Ptolemy V to the priests and people of Egypt. In its preamble, Ptolemy is honored for, among other things, using all the “power at his command to favor us with his kindness and has cancelled entirely some of the revenues and taxes due him from Egypt” (lines 11–13).35 The word used for “favor with kindness” is πεφιλανθρώπηκε, the perfect form of φιλανθρωπέω.36 By Hellenistic times, the practice of philanthropy was not limited to gods, great men, or elected political officials, or even people! In Longus’s novel, Daphnis and Chloe, a goatherd named Lamon discovers an abandoned child “being suckled by one of his she-goats” (1.2.1, trans. Gill [CAGN, 289]). Longus reports that Lamon followed her [the she-goat] closely and saw the goat standing carefully over the child (so that she wouldn’t hurt it by treading on it with her hooves) and the child sucking her milk as though from its mother’s breast. Naturally he was amazed; he went up close and found a baby boy, big and beautiful, and dressed in baby clothes finer than you would expect to find on a child that had been exposed – he had a purple cloak with a gold clasp, and a dagger with an ivory handle. His first plan was to ignore the baby and to take only the tokens of his identity. Then he felt ashamed at failing to match even a goat’s “love of humanity. (Longus, Daphnis and Chloe, 1.2–3 [Gill, CAGN, 290])

34 As Longenecker, Remember the Poor, 71, notes: “Although eugertism was intended to benefit society, it should probably not be listed as an expression of concern for the well-being of the destitute directly.” 35 Cited in Frederick W. Danker, Benefactor: Epigraphic Study of a Graeco-Roman and New Testament Semantic Field (St. Louis, MO: Clayton Publishing House, 1982), 208. 36  Danker, Benefactor, 329. Danker (94) also cites a certain Menas who in an inscription from 133–120 BCE, is celebrated for his “philanthropic enterprise” (inscription 17, lines 63–66).

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The “other” here is a goat, and her philanthropy to the boy allows Daphnis to grow up and take his place as one of two protagonists in the story. 37 This example also shows that philanthropy could be associated with kindness shown to others in crisis. According to Diogenes Laertius, Plato defined a philanthropist as “one who is given to assisting everyone in distress” (Lives 3.98 [Hicks, LCL]).38 We will return to this point in our discussion of Acts. The recent work by Bruce Longenecker has shown that, contrary to prevailing opinions, there was a small body of evidence that “low-grade” acts of charity were extended by “pagans” to the poor and destitute and that “at times, charitable initiatives were probably undergirded by a religious dimension in relation to the deities.”39 Still, pride of place for philanthropic acts toward the unfortunate, whether the permanently poor or the temporarily distressed, clearly belongs to Jewish almsgiving.40 We have already referred to those texts in Israel’s Scriptures that exhort Israel to care for the poor and disenfranchised (Exod 22:20–26, 23:6–9; Lev 19:9–18; Deut 15:7–11; Amos 2:6–7; Isa 3:13–15). The Greek word φιλανθρωπία does not occur in any Greek translations of the Hebrew Bible, but the concept is nonetheless appropriated by Greek-speaking Jews in a Greco-Roman world of benefaction and philanthropy. Grounding his argument in Scripture, Philo of Alexandria identifies φιλανθρωπία as one of four human virtues (along with courage, ἀνδρεία; repentance, μετάνοια; and nobility, εὐγενία) (Virt. 51–174). Philo argues that the Mosaic law insists on humane behavior, often in the form of just economic interactions, not only toward fellow Jews, but strangers, sojourners, and even enemies (Virt. 119–120). Philo also gives examples of φιλανθρωπία regarding slaves, animals and plants (121–124, 125–147, 148–159). Josephus argues that human virtue grows out of “the majesty of God and his love for humanity” (Ant. 1 [Thackery, LCL], italics mine). Later rabbinic material claimed, “Almsgiving and deeds of loving kindness are equal to all the commandments of the Law.… almsgiving is done with one’s money, deeds of loving kindness either with money or personally” (j. Pe’ah 15b–c; t. Pe’ah 4.19; Sukkah 49b).41 On an individual basis, Jewish philanthropy most often took the form of almsgiving, which was aimed at care for the poor and understood as an expression  Chloe, his female counterpart and lover, is found the same way! (1.4–6). addition to assistance in duress, Plato identified offering greetings and hosting dinners as examples of philanthropy (Lives 3.98); cited in Hock, “Why New Testament Scholars Should Read Ancient Novels,” 132–33. Offering greetings, and especially hosting dinners, also underscores the point that, at least in some quarters, philanthropy was a practice (however flexible) and not just a moral trait or characteristic. 39  Longenecker, Remember the Poor, 104. 40 Barclay, Paul and the Gift, 39–45, discusses Jewish reciprocity and the poor from a slightly different angle than taken here. 41  Cited by Pearson, Roots of Western Philanthropy, 14. The Greek term, of course, does not occur here. 37

38 In

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of piety and devotion to God.42 No Second Temple Jewish text exemplifies the central role of almsgiving as an expression of pious devotion better than the second-century BCE document Tobit. In instructions to his son Tobias, Tobit says; “To all those who practice righteousness, give alms from your possessions.… Do not turn your face away from anyone who is poor, and the face of God will not be turned away from you.… For almsgiving delivers from death and keeps you from going into the Darkness” (Tob 4:6b–7, 10; cf. Prov 10:2).43 We could say more about Jewish benefaction and philanthropy based on the Dead Sea Scrolls (cf. CD 6:14–7:1; 7:1–6) or other Second Temple Jewish Literature (cf. Sib Or. 3:119–38; Sir 3:30 et passim), but there is, as Longenecker says, little debate that “concern for the economically insecure” is “integral for Jewish identity.”44

VII. Philanthropy in Early Christianity and Luke / ​Acts The term φιλανθρωπία, and its adverb φιλανθρώπως, occur only three times in the NT, and two of those are in Acts.45 In Acts 28:2, after the harrowing experience of shipwreck (the narration of which takes up most of chapter 27), Paul and the other survivors reach Malta, where the indigenous folk demonstrated “unusual kindness” (οὐ τὴν τυχοῦσαν φιλανθρωπίαν) that consisted of building a fire to offer warmth and comfort in the cold and rain to the survivors (28:2).46 Paul also received “human kindness” from a Roman centurion, which took the form of allowing him, while a prisoner (and presumably in chains; cf. 26:29) to be cared 42 Pearson,

Roots of Western Philanthropy, 13–14.  The reference in Tobit to almsgivings’ power to deliver from death may refer to a long rather than an eternal life, but Gary Anderson, Charity: The Place of the Poor in the Biblical Tradition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013), cites Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov for a story in which charity did (or could have) delivered from eternal damnation: Once upon a time there was a peasant woman and a very wicked woman she was. And she died and did not leave a single good deed behind. The devils caught her and plunged her into the lake of fire. So her guardian angel stood and wondered what good deed of hers he could remember to tell to God; “She once pulled up an onion in her garden,” said he, “and gave it to a beggar woman.” And God answered: “You take that onion then, hold it out to her in the lake, and let her take hold and be pulled out. And if you can pull her out of the lake, let her come to Paradise, but if the onion breaks, then the woman must stay where she is.” The angel ran to the woman and held out the onion to her. “Come,” said he, “catch hold and I’ll pull you out.” He began cautiously pulling her out. He had just pulled her right out, when the other sinners in the lake, seeing how she was being drawn out, began catching hold of her so as to be pulled out with her. But she was a very wicked woman and she began kicking them. “I’m to be pulled out, not you. It’s my onion, not yours.” As soon as she said that, the onion broke. And the woman fell into the lake and she is burning there to this day. So the angel wept and went away. 44  Longenecker, Remember the Poor, 114. 45 The one other occurrence is in Titus 3:4 refers to the “loving kindness” of God expressed in the sending of Jesus as Savior. 46  On this passage, see Joshua W. Jipp, Divine Visitations and Hospitality to Strangers in Luke-Acts: An Interpretation of the Malta Episode in Acts 28:1–10 (Leiden: Brill, 2013). 43

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for by fellow believers (“friends”; 27:3). Philanthropy is closely associated in Acts with almsgiving (ἐλεημοσύνη), and both in Acts belong to the larger category of benefaction. Almsgiving is related to benefaction in the story of the healing of the lame man in Acts 3–4. The lame man sits at the beautiful gate begging for alms (3:2). Peter tells the man he has not silver or gold but offers him healing in Jesus’s name (3:7). Later he refers to the healing as a “good deed” or “benefaction” (εὐεργεσία; 4:9). Tabitha is described as “being full of good works47 and alms deeds” (πλήρης ἔργων ἀγαθῶν καὶ ἐλεημοσύνη)48 and shares her good works with the widows. The paring of benefaction and almsgiving here is no surprise, since, simply put, the first Jesus followers were all Jewish.49 One of the things that separates φιλανθρωπία from ἐλεημοσύνη is that almsgiving in Acts is always an act performed by insiders (Jewish or Jesus followers) especially to the vulnerable and destitute (so Cornelius in 10:2, 4, 31 and Paul in 24:17). φιλανθρωπία, in Acts at least, is reversed: outsiders show benefaction to insiders. And Paul and the shipwreck survivors were “treated kindly” by the Maltese.50 The action is labeled “unusual” because it is not behavior expected of “barbarians.”51 Furthermore, remember the example of philanthropy in Luke’s Gospel we cited earlier. There it is the “outsider,” the Samaritan, who extends kindness to the Jew on his way to Jericho. But how is φιλανθρωπία distinct from hospitality? The two practices share certain things in common: both are temporary arrangements (contra friendships). In both, outsiders can also bestow benefits on insiders (or refuse to do so). We see this in hospitality in the Third Gospel in the mission of the twelve and especially the longer version of the mission of the seventy(‑two), where Jesus instructs the disciples to accept hospitality from those who will give it by remaining in the house, eating and drinking whatever they provide (10:7–8; cf. 9:4). In return, the disciples are ordered to heal the sick and pronounce the imminent coming of God’s kingdom (10:9). But to those who refuse hospitality, the disciples are to wipe off the dust from their feet in protest against them (10:11; cf. 9:5). In Acts 28, just after the initial scene, and partially as a result of the Maltese misidentify47 The concept of “good works” was common in early Christian literature (cf. Rom 2:7, 13:3; 2 Cor 9:8; Eph 2:10; Phil 1:6; Col 1:10; 1 Tim 2:10, 5:10; 2 Tim 2:21, 3:17; Titus 1:16, 3:10; Barn. 4:9b–10) as well as the larger Greco-Roman culture. 48 Anderson, Charity, 170–74, makes the interesting suggestion that the raising of Tabitha may be a reflection of the injunction found in Tobit (and Prov 10:2) that almsgiving delivers from death. He suggests that when the widows display the fruit of Tabitha’s benefaction “it is not hard to imagine that God was also being urged to take notice” (171). 49  In Acts, almsgiving is a form of benefaction aimed at the destitute and an act of devotion to God (Acts 9:36; 10:2, 4, 31; 24:17). 50 Those receiving assistance no doubt included some “non-believers,” but this is muted by the fact that the narrator refers to “us,” which generally means Paul and his entourage of believers. So, at the least, this is the group forefronted. 51 Jipp, Divine Visitations, 259.

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ing Paul as a god, Publius offers hospitality on his estate to Paul and company, entertaining them for three days (28:7).52 The two cultural scripts do have significant differences, however, at least as Luke presents them. Hospitality takes place in a home and entails certain prescribed protocols (shelter, food, drink, gifts), in Luke/Acts at least philanthropy occurs wherever one encounters a person in duress, whether a man left for dead on the side of the road (Luke 10), or a prisoner in chains set to make a long voyage (Acts 27), or shipwreck survivors still shivering from wet and cold (Acts 28). There are no set protocols; the philanthropist simply provides what is needed at the time: binding wounds or the comfort of friends or the warmth of a fire. This focus on assisting those in duress (e. g., good Samaritan, Paul in chains, and shipwreck survivors) plays a minor role in the Lukan writings in comparison to friendship and hospitality. But it is a crucial role, nonetheless, because it underscores the importance of the insider being willing to receive help / ​gifts from the outsider. It also means the outsider will be judged on how he or she treats the insider. This is not unique to Luke. Many read Matt 25 as a judgment not on how believers treated the vulnerable of the world but on how the world treated the “least of these” among the community of faith.53 And there is a christological focus to these behaviors. To mistreat one of Christ’s followers is to mistreat Christ, as Paul discovered when the voice on the Damascus road said, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” (Acts 9:4). It is also instructive to note that when we engage in these kinds of activities ourselves, we may be assuming the role of the outsider. Since the patristic era, the Samaritan has been identified as a Christ figure.54 And while that interpretation has fallen out of favor among many modern commentators, it is not without support.55 In any case, the command to “Go and do likewise,” that is, go and imitate the behavior of the Samaritan, is a radical invitation to assume the role of 52 Contra Jipp, Divine Visitations, 260, who translates φιλανθρωία as “hospitable kindness” and sees all of 28:1–10 functioning as a scene, as his title puts it, of “divine visitation and hospitality to strangers.” 53 David Garland, Reading Matthew: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the First Gospel (New York, NY: Crossroad, 1995), 243, for example, argues: “The nations are judged according to the way they treated Jesus’ humble brethren who represented Christ to them.” See also Charles H. Talbert, Matthew, Paideia: Commentaries on the New Testament, (eds. Mikeal C. Parsons and Charles H. Talbert, Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010), 276; Craig Blomberg, Matthew, NAC 22, (ed. David S. Dockery; Nashville, TN: Broadman, 1992), 378; Donald Hagner, Matthew 14–28, WBC 33B, (ed. David A. Hubbard and Glenn W. Barker Dallas, TX: Word, 1995), 746. Thanks to Michael Barnard, my student assistant, for compiling this list. 54  See e. g., Origen, Hom. Luc. 34:9. 55 Mikeal C. Parsons, Luke, PCNT (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2015), 180–81: “Why should Jesus, a Jew, expect something of a Jewish lawyer that he is not prepared to expect of himself? It is in the very offense of the image of the Samaritan as Christ figure that the parable has its evocative power in the fullest sense.”

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the Other in seeking to offer assistance to those in duress and whom we would be least likely to want to help. So Luke’s perspective on philanthropy involves the faith community under duress being willing to accept assistance from the outsider, and being prepared to render assistance as the outsider, especially to those one would least like to help. It also renders the lines less sharp than we are apt to imagine. In Acts, it is Jesus whose activities stoke the imagination of early Jesus followers and provide a model to emulate (according to Luke). This is true of the larger practice of benefaction to which we have seen philanthropy is closely associated, and we find that it is Jesus who is most closely associated with benefaction and the concomitant practice of philanthropy. In a pivotal scene in Acts, Peter chooses to characterize the healing ministry of the earthly Jesus as “doing good” or “benefaction” (εὐεργετῶν; 10:38). Certainly the disciples have taken over the role of benefactor, though, like Jesus, that which they have to give – wholeness of life – is far more precious than the benefits of “silver and gold” so typical of most benefactors. And they do not exercise benefaction in order to “lord it over others” as Jesus has warned at the Last Supper (Luke 22:25). Jesus’s benefaction does not discriminate; he offers it to insider and outsider alike (cf. healing of centurion’s son in Luke 7; Samaritan leper in Luke 17). And, of course, so do his disciples (Acts 14, etc.). But it is the outsider who has received the philanthropic mantle, especially if, as I have argued elsewhere, the “Good Samaritan” is a Christ figure, then Jesus the “Outsider” provides philanthropic care to the insider.56 While it is “unusual” from a larger cultural perspective for barbarians at Malta to practice philanthropy, it is what is expected in Luke’s social world. And the faith community must be willing to receive these philanthropic gifts

56  For the full version of the argument, see Mikeal C. Parsons, “The Character of the Good Samaritan: A Christological Reading,” in Festschrift for Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, ed. Edwin K. Broadhead (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, forthcoming). In the parable, the Good Samaritan “had compassion” on the man beaten by the road. The term ἐσπλαγχνίσθη, “he had compassion,” occurs three times in all of Luke / ​Acts; in the other two instances, only God’s agent, Jesus (Luke 7:13) and a figure for God, the father of the Prodigal (Luke 15:20) show compassion. In other words, “showing compassion” in the Lukan narrative is a divine prerogative and a divine action. When the Samaritan shows compassion on the man in the ditch, he is functioning figuratively as God’s agent. At the conclusion of the parable, Jesus asks, “Which of these three, do you think, proved neighbor to the man who fell among robbers?” (Luke 10:36). The lawyer responds by saying, “The one who showed mercy on him” (ὁ ποιήσας τὸ ἔλεος μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ, 10:37). This comment is usually understood by commentators to show the lawyer’s reluctance to even utter the word “Samaritan.” Without denying this claim, the response also has the effect of creating an interpretive gloss on the Samaritan’s action. The Samaritan’s act of compassion is made by the lawyer to be the dynamic equivalent of “showing mercy.” In Luke’s Gospel, only God or God’s agent, Jesus, shows mercy (Luke 1:47, 49–50, 54, 68–69; 17:13, 14; 18:38, 42). Ron Hock (see n. 29) argues that the term “show mercy” is also semantically equivalent in other literature to φιλανθρωπία and puts the Samaritan’s actions into the conceptual and social world of philanthropy.

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of benefaction, lest they be guilty of a patronizing attitude that only they have something to offer and give. Because of what is at stake in Acts, it is crucial that the philanthropy flow in both directions, and that outsiders are not absolutized but are allowed to move back and forth. The second half of Acts 10:38 is crucial in this regard. Jesus went about “doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil” (10:38b). Here benefactions are placed within the framework of a cosmic drama that pits the power of God over against the anti-God powers.57

VIII. Conclusion In the ancient world, the protocols of the cultural conventions of friendship, hospitality, and philanthropy often and most certainly overlapped. As shown, however, Luke seems to have a particular function in mind for each. Friendship in Luke is described with unlimited protocols of those insiders within the community toward each other. Hospitality was related to insiders and outsiders, hosts and guests, in a house setting in a travel context, providing set protocols for food and shelter to any traveling strangers who might require them. For Luke, hospitality also functioned as the social context for the gentile mission, and for welcoming the “Other” into the community. The practice of philanthropy was used in Lukan contexts to describe assistance provided to the “other” in duress (victims of brigands or shipwreck or prisoners), and Luke also uses philanthropy especially to describe the obligations of the “pagan” world toward Jesus followers.

57  See Mikeal C. Parsons, “Acts in the Discourse of Politics: A Response,” in Reading Acts in the Discourses of Masculinity and Politics, ed. Matthew Skinner, Eric Barreto, and Steve Walton, LNTS (New York: T & T Clark, 2016), 141–147.

The Open Stage of Luke and Acts Mark Reasoner εἶδον οἱ ὀφθαλμοί μου τὸ σωτήριόν σου ὃ ἡτοίμασας κατὰ πρόσωπον πάντων τῶν λαῶν, φῶς εἰς ἀποκάλυψιν ἐθνῶν καὶ δόξαν λαοῦ σου Ἰσραήλ (Luke 2:30–32).

I. An Open Stage The second half of Simeon’s prediction in the temple, quoted above, seems to be programmatic for the presentation of Jesus in Luke and Acts.1 It is from the same cloth as the “not done in a corner” statement of Paul to King Agrippa in Acts 26:26, for both the pronouncements of Simeon and Paul imply that Jesus is known both before Israel and the nations. Because of the way the author of Luke and Acts reads Scripture and Paul’s letters and because of this author’s quest to evoke ἀσφάλεια, Luke and Acts presents Jesus on an open stage: Jesus is predicted by all of Scripture, his prophetic actions and teachings performed openly before all of Judea and Israel, and the witness about him spread powerfully and ubiquitously through the implied audience’s world. The thesis sounds too obvious, but not all have noticed these phenomena, considered how they are related, or sought for the origin of these ways that Luke is portraying Jesus and the spread of Jesus’ word on an open stage. For example, while Abraham Malherbe treats the “not done in a corner” statement of Acts 26:26 as evidence of the author’s portrait of Paul as moral philosopher who legitimates his message by addressing other intellectuals in public,2 Richard Pervo goes beyond this to add how Acts 26:26 “weave[s] together a number of Lucan strains: salvation history, the universal mission, and the social, political, and theological respectability of the Movement.”3 Pervo’s seminal assessment is consistent with an understanding of the open stage of Luke and Acts. But how is 1 In this essay I call the two volumes “Luke and Acts” and attempt to treat Acts as the sequel to Luke, but not as the second volume of a unified two volume work, in sensitivity to the insights of Richard I. Pervo and Mikeal C. Parsons, Rethinking the Unity of Luke and Acts (1993; reprint ed. Minneapolis: Fortress 2007), 126–27. 2  “‘Not in a Corner’: Early Christian Apologetic in Acts 26:26,” The Second Century 5/4 (1985–86): 193–210. 3 Acts: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 636.

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the open stage of Luke and Acts literarily constructed, and why does its author stage the two volume drama on such an open stage? Initial evidence for this description of Luke’s gospel can be seen specifically in the public scenes at the temple with which the gospel is framed (1:8–22; 24:52– 53). And the word of Simeon at Jesus’ presentation in the temple, Luke 2:31–32, is often recognized as a messianic universalism somehow bound together with the primacy of Israel in salvation history. The πολλοί in Israel, whose fall and rise is connected by Simeon with the child he is blessing in 2:34, can easily be understood in a universal sense as well.4 Jesus’ public warning to Herod, his later trial before him (13:31–32; 23:6–12), and Paul’s hearings before all the authorities that mattered in the mid-first century Roman province of Judea, including the promise that he would stand before Caesar (Acts 22:25–29; 23:1–10; 24:1–21; 25:6–12; 25:23–26:32) all contribute to the open stage. Such phrases as ὃ ἡτοίμασας κατὰ πρόσωπον πάντων τῶν λαῶν (Luke 2:32), σὺ μόνος παροικεῖς Ἰερουσαλῆμ καὶ οὐκ ἔγνως τὰ γενόμενα ἐν αὐτῇ ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις ταύταις; (Luke 24:18b); ὑμεῖς οἴδατε τὸ γενόμενον ῥῆμα καθ΄ ὅλης τῆς Ἰουδαίας (Acts 10:37a); τοῦτο δὲ ἐγένετο ἐπὶ ἔτη δύο,

ὥστε πάντας τοὺς κατοικοῦντας τὴν Ἀσίαν ἀκοῦσαι τὸν λόγον τοῦ κυρίου, Ἰουδαίους τε καὶ Ἕλληνας (Acts 19:10) are used to provide the impression that all contempo-

raries of Jesus and Paul heard Jesus or knew of the word about Jesus.

II. Objection: Luke Keeps Most of Mark’s Messianic Secret Texts An obvious objection presents itself: Of the nine passages in Mark that include a silencing command or statement that Luke incorporates in his gospel, he retains the silencing command in six, and in one, the denouement of the Transfiguration scene, he omits the silencing command but retains Mark’s idea that the disciples told no one. Mark

Luke

1:25 καὶ ἐπετίμησεν αὐτῷ λέγων· φιμώθητι …

=

4:35 καὶ ἐπετίμησεν αὐτῷ λέγων· φιμώθητι …

1:34b … καὶ οὐκ ἤφιεν λαλεῖν τὰ δαιμόνια, ὅτι ᾔδεισαν αὐτόν.

≈

4:41b… καὶ ἐπιτιμῶν οὐκ εἴα αὐτὰ λαλεῖν, ὅτι ᾔδεισαν τὸν χριστὸν αὐτὸν εἶναι.

1:43–45 καὶ λέγει αὐτῷ· ὅρα μηδενὶ μηδὲν

≈

5:14 καὶ αὐτὸς παρήγγειλεν αὐτῷ μηδενὶ εἰπεῖν, ἀλλὰ ἀπελθὼν δεῖξον σεαυτὸν τῷ ἱερεῖ

εἴπῃς, ἀλλὰ ὕπαγε σεαυτὸν δεῖξον τῷ ἱερεῖ …

…

4  So Wolfgang Wiefel, Das Evangelium nach Lukas, THkNT 3 (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1988), 80.

The Open Stage of Luke and Acts

Mark 3:10–12 πολλοὺς γὰρ ἐθεράπευσεν … καὶ πολλὰ ἐπετίμα αὐτοῖς ἵνα μὴ αὐτὸν φανερὸν ποιήσωσιν

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Luke ≠

6:17–19 adds ἰᾶτο πάντας in 6:19; omits silencing command

4:11ὑμῖν τὸ μυστήριον δέδοται τῆς βασιλείας ≈ τοῦ θεοῦ· ἐκείνοις δὲ τοῖς ἔξω ἐν παραβολαῖς τὰ πάντα γίνεται, …

8:10 ὑμῖν δέδοται γνῶναι τὰ μυστήρια τῆς βασιλείας τοῦ θεοῦ, τοῖς λοιποῖς ἐν παραβολαῖς, …

5:43 καὶ διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς πολλὰ ἵνα μηδεὶς =

8:56b καὶ διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς πολλὰ ἵνα μηδεὶς γνοῖ τοῦτο

7:31–37 … καὶ διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς ἵνα μηδενὶ λέγωσιν (36)

Luke omits this healing story

8:22–26 … καὶ ἀπέστειλεν αὐτὸν εἰς οἶκον αὐτοῦ λέγων· Μηδὲ εἰς τὴν κώμην εἰσέλθῇς

Luke omits this healing story

γνοῖ τοῦτο

(26)

8:30 καὶ ἐπετίμησεν αὐτοῖς ἵνα μηδενὶ λέγωσιν περὶ αὐτοῦ.

≈

9:21 ὁ δὲ ἐπιτμήσας αὐτοῖς παρήγγειλεν μηδενὶ λέγειν τοῦτο.

9:9–10 καὶ καταβαινόντων αὐτῶν ἐκ τοῦ

≈

9:36 [omits silencing command] καὶ αὐτοὶ ἐσίγησαν καὶ οὐδενὶ ἀπήγγειλαν ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις οὐδὲν ὧν ἑώρακαν.

9:30 κἀκεῖθεν ἐξελθόντες παρεπορεύοντο διὰ ≠ τῆς Γαλιλαίας, καὶ οὐκ ἤθελεν ἵνα τις γνοῖ·

9:43b πάντων δὲ θαυμαζόντων ἐπὶ πᾶσιν οἷς ἐποίει …

ὄρους διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς ἵνα μηδενὶ ἃ εἶδον διηγήσωνται, εἰ μὴ ὅταν ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστῇ. καὶ τὸν λόγον ἐκράτησαν πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς συζητοῦντες τί ἐστιν τὸ ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστῆναι.

So it is evident that Luke is not averse to the messianic secrecy texts of Mark. At the same time, we notice some “open stage” editing: Luke 4:41 is more specific regarding what the demons know, after already portraying them as saying more than they say in Mark (cf. Mark 1:34a with Luke 4:41a); Luke 6:17–19 adds a statement of universal healing and omits the silencing command; and Luke changes the introduction of the second passion prediction from Jesus’ secrecy intention to a statement of widespread wonder. The differences, though outnumbered by the instances where Luke retains Mark’s secrecy motif, are enough to keep the investigation open, and lead us to another feature of the open stage in Luke and Acts, its inclusion of the nations in the itinerary of Jesus and the apostles.

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III. Rejoinder: Yet Luke and Acts Foreground Jesus before Israel and the Nations But there are more cases unique to Luke in which Jesus and his ministry are portrayed before large crowds or other adaptations made to make the impact of Jesus and his message wider and more intense than is found in the other gospels. Also, from early in Luke’s gospel, the nations are uniquely mentioned as part of Jesus’ eventual audience. There are a number of miscellaneous passages in which the stage is opened and widened in the gospel of Luke. Luke 11:29 and 12:1 introduce new sections by describing how many people were amassing around Jesus. The latter of these in fact uses “thousands.” These statements are not paralleled in the other canonical gospels. Luke’s unique insertion of Peter’s question in 12:41 has the effect of drawing the reader into the parable, this time extending the stage of Jesus’ teaching in a way somewhat analogous to how Jesus’ words in John 20:29b draw the reader into the conversation between Jesus and Thomas. In the account of Jesus healing a crippled woman on the Sabbath, unique to Luke, the pericope ends with the statement that all Jesus’ opponents were ashamed, and all the crowd rejoiced at what Jesus was doing (13:17). These all-encompassing descriptions again present this single miracle in a synagogue as a very influential event that affected all involved. Luke’s unique account of the warning from the Pharisees about Herod ends with Jesus saying that he will continue on his way, since a prophet cannot die outside Jerusalem (13:33). This statement, only found in Luke, fits with the public stage on which Luke is presenting his account. Jesus must die in Jerusalem, the central city of the land. The beginning of the Q discipleship material (Matt 10:37–38; Luke 14:25–33) begins only in Luke with Συνεπορεύοντο δὲ αὐτῷ ὄχλοι πολλοί, καὶ στραφεὶς εἶπεν πρὸς αὐτούς (14:25), again casting Jesus on a stage with a greater audience than Matthew does. In more frequent and explicit ways than in the other canonical gospels, Luke mentions the nations. Statements that in the discourse of the LXX refer to the nations appear in the Magnificat (1:52–55) and Benedictus (1:68, 71–74), foreshadowing Simeon’s more obvious statement that the salvation brought by the Christ is displayed to the nations. After Simeon’s programmatic statement in 2:29–32, the idea that the life and teachings of Jesus unfold before the nations is picked up in Luke’s development of Jesus’ debut in the Nazareth synagogue. The quoted text for the haftorah reading is Isa 61:1–2. Though these two verses do not mention the nations, Isa 61:5 describes how foreigners will be shepherding and farming as servants of the

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Jewish people; Isa 61:9 describes how God’s people will be known as a blessed people among the nations, and the chapter ends with a description of how God will make righteousness and praise abound in the presence of the nations (Isa 65:11). The author develops Isaiah’s idea of the international audience by crafting a homily for Jesus that highlights the Gentile beneficiaries of Elijah and Elisha’s ministries (Luke 4:25–27). In 9:52 we read that Jesus sent messengers to prepare for his stay in a Samaritan village. We could take this as slight evidence for the open stage on which Luke narrates his gospel, for this detail accentuates the readers’ impression of Jesus’ entourage in a way analogous to Luke’s description of the women who followed Jesus (8:2–3). Within his travel narrative, Luke’s unparalleled phrase that Jesus διήρχετο διὰ μέσον Σαμαρείας καὶ Γαλιλαίας carries the sense that Jesus was travelling right through the middle of Samaria and Galilee, as if he was not trying to skirt these areas. In some ways this is analogous to the Ἔδει δὲ αὐτὸν διέρχεσθαι διὰ τῆς Σαμαρείας in John 4:4, though the Alands’ synopsis does not link these texts. The necessity of the message of Jesus going out to the nations is uniquely found as well in Luke 24:47, though this is close to Matt 28:19. Luke adds the idea of the Scripture-based necessity for the proclamation to the nations. So even though Luke retains most of Mark’s silencing commands, there is at the same time something more open and public about the narratives in Luke and in Acts, so we may at least continue to see how the silencing commands relate to the public perspective of Luke and Acts.

IV. Debut Scenes A reasonable place to begin considering the open stage in Luke and Acts in a more systematic way is its author’s penchant for debut scenes. Luke and Acts narrate beginnings, and use words for a debut of a person or message in the presence of a new audience: ἀνάδειξις (1:80); ἀρχόμενος (3:23). While Gabriel’s annunciation to Mary seems to be as private as Joseph’s dreams (Matt 1:20–24; 2:13, 19–20), Luke also describes a semi-public announcement to Zecharias regarding the birth of John the Baptist, Mary’s hymn in the presence of her relative Elizabeth, in which the former says that “all generations will call [her] blessed” (1:48), and the news of John the Baptist that spreads to all in the Judean hills before his appearance to Israel (1:65–66, 80). Luke, who likes to stage debut scenes, breaks from Mark, Q and M actually to narrate Jesus’ birth and the angelic announcement to the shepherds, who then hear the πλῆθος στρατιᾶς οὐρανίου praising God (2:6–14). One could counter that the public stage of Luke’s nativity scene might be somewhat matched by Matthew’s narrative in which “Herod was troubled and

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all Jerusalem with him” at the inquiry of the magi (Matt 2:3), But since this is happening some time after Jesus’ birth, it is not quite the debut that Luke offers of Jesus’ birth. An enhanced debut scene is the baptism of Jesus. Only Luke situates Jesus’ baptism within a baptism in which “all the people” are participating (3:21: . . ἐν τῷ βαπτισθῆναι ἅπαντα τὸν λαὸν καὶ Ἰησοῦ βαπτισθέντος …). And Luke removes the phenomenological delimiters of the other gospels, who indicate that Jesus (Matt 3:16; Mark 1:10) or Jesus and the Baptist (John 1:32–34) saw the Spirit descending. If we only had Luke 3:21–22 to read, we would imagine all at the Jordan seeing the heavens opened and the Holy Spirit descending in physical form as a dove on Jesus. Luke can enhance Synoptic debut scenes to portray Jesus as speaking and acting before larger crowds than we see in Matthew and Luke. For example, Luke’s version of Jesus’ debut at the Nazareth synagogue is the most publically staged telling of this episode. Jesus returns to Galilee in the power of the Spirit (4:14a; cf. Matt 4:12; Mark 1:14; John 4:3). The report about Jesus spreads throughout the whole, surrounding area (4:14b; cf. John 4:45). Luke then segues into the debut scene with his unique summary of Jesus’ initial Galilee tour: καὶ αὐτὸς ἐδίδασκεν ἐν ταῖς συναγωγαῖς αὐτῶν δοξαζόμενος ὑπὸ πάντων (4:15). Once in the synagogue, “the eyes of all” are fixed on Jesus (4:20). In the Synoptic tradition, Jesus’ teaching in the synagogue leads to the audience’s amazement (Matt 13:54; Mark 6:2 with πολλοἰ; Luke 4:22b), but only Luke describes the extent of the audience’s approbation: καὶ πάντες ἐμαρτύρουν αὐτῷ (4:22a). The crowd-encompassing reportage extends to a response of contempt as well, since at the end of the sermon, it is only Luke who tells us καὶ ἐπλήσθησαν πάντες θυμοῦ ἐν τῇ συναγωγῇ ἀκούοντες ταῦτα, καὶ ἀναστάντες ἐξέβαλον αὐτὸν ἔξω τῆς πόλεως, καὶ ἤγαγον αὐτὸν ἕως ὀφρύος τοῦ ὄρους ἐφ’ οὗ ἡ πόλις ᾠκοδόμητο αὐτῶν, ὥστε κατακρημνίσαι αὐτόν (4:28–29). Luke does not mention Jesus’ non-performance of miracles in his hometown (cf. Matt 13:58; Mark 6:5). So the addition of the adjective πᾶς in 4:15, 22, 28 serves to make this debut a bigger event than it is in Matthew or Mark. The quoted Scripture reading and Jesus’ midrash on what it means to be a prophet in Israel extend the import of the scene to fit with what seems to be mentioned in most, if not all of the debut scenes in Luke and Acts: the legacy of Israel and what it means to be an Israelite.5 The Palm Sunday entrance is another typical debut scene that Luke enhances. I concede that Luke’s ἅπαν τὸ πλῆθος τῶν μαθητῶν (19:37) does not in itself contribute to a greater throng around Jesus than Matthew’s οἱ δὲ ὄχλοι οἱ προάγοντες αὐτὸν καὶ οἱ ἀκολουθοῦντες (21:9). But the prophetic weeping and address to the city within this scene (19:41–44) add a gravity to the scene not found in the 5  The legacy of Israel and what it means to be an Israelite in the debut scenes of Luke and Acts: Luke 1:68–77; 3:7–9; 4:23–27; 19:45–46; Acts 2:16–40; 7:2–53; 13:16–41.

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other gospels. And the conclusion of the scene, with its uniquely Lukan phrase, ὁ λαὸς γὰρ ἅπας ἐξεκρέματο αὐτοῦ ἀκούων, pictures Jesus holding “all the people” spellbound in the temple. In Acts, the most fully developed debut scene is the Pentecost narrative. It contains a detailed description of the varied backgrounds of those in the audience (2:5–11), a Scripture based homily on Jesus as fulfillment of the promises to Israel (2:14–36, 38–40) and a description of the audience’s response (2:37, 41). Our author does not write so as to demarcate clearly the beginnings and endings of debut narratives. Nor does the author take pains always to include the same elements in each scene. Yet Acts, like the gospel of Luke, does display a propensity for narrating first encounters of those bringing the word of Jesus into a new ethnic or geographic locale. Other debut scenes in Acts include Peter’s first sermon in the temple (3:1–26), Peter’s first sermon to the Sanhedrin (4:5–22), Paul’s first missionary sermon (13:16–43), Paul’s sermon in Athens (17:16–34), Paul’s speech before the people of Jerusalem (22:1–21) and Paul’s first encounters with the Jews in Rome (28:17–28). The debut scenes in the gospel of Luke present Jesus as having a larger impact on audiences than the other canonical gospels present, thus contributing to this author’s open stage perspective. Jesus is shown as more famous, and his message more accessible and profound than is seen in the other gospels. In the book of Acts, the debut scenes present the message concerning Jesus coming effectively to significant numbers of varied people groups in the Mediterranean world.

V. A Prophet, Mighty in Deed and Word Luke and Acts show or refer to Jesus as ministering publically as a prophet to God’s people. Of course, the other gospels also portray Jesus ministering to Israel and Judah, but Luke and Acts do so in ways more explicitly emphasizing Israel’s national identity as the prophet’s audience than the other gospels provide. Besides the explicit identification of Jesus as a prophet (Luke 24:19), the gospel of Luke uniquely presents Jesus as a prophet by linking Elijah and Elisha to Jesus (4:24–27), staging an Elijah / ​Elisha-like child-raising in a first century site near ancient Shunem (7:11–17), and portraying Jesus crying, like Elisha, over future distress for God’s people (19:41–44; see 2 Kgs 8:11).

VI. Prophet for the People Jesus is depicted as a prophet who ministers before the people of Israel and Judah.The noun λαός is used 37 times in Luke’s gospel, outnumbering the uses in Matthew, Mark and John. Minear finds Luke’s use of λαός to mean the “specific

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historical community which has been set apart by God from all other communities by the covenant which He has sealed with it.” While he notes Acts 15:14; 18:10 as possible exceptions, in most cases Minear affirms that “to Luke λαός, with the article, normally refers to Israel as the elect nation which forever retains the specific identity given to it by God.” 6 The term λαός does not occur uniformly throughout Luke’s gospel: Minear notes how it appears more densely in the passion narrative, to emphasize that the salvation for God’s people is accomplished through Jesus’ passion. The use of λαός in Acts as well leads Minear to believe that the author, rather than the sources, of Luke and Acts is responsible for the frequent use of the term.7 Minear notes how in Luke, the μαθηταί are specifically presented as being prepared by Jesus to teach to the λαός of Israel. Minear’s preeminent piece of evidence for this is Luke 20:45, which changes Mark’s ὄχλος to λαός and focuses Jesus’ discourse to the disciples (cf. Matt 23:1; Mark 12:37b).8 Jesus’ interaction with the people is portrayed as occurring in Samaria (9:52– 56) and to Samaritans (17:11–19), as if to include Israel in its limited sense and to present Jesus as the antitype of Elijah and Elisha. Those associated with Jesus, John the Baptist and the apostles, also live out their prophetic roles on an open stage, before the people of Israel and Judah in Luke and Acts. Luke’s Jesus adds πᾶς ὁ λαός to the description of tax collectors and prostitutes as the audience who responded to the preaching of John the Baptist (Luke 7:29; cf. Matthew 21:31b–32). In the Q passage of open confession (Matt 10:26–27; Luke 12:2–3), Luke has taken what is a command in Matthew for the disciples to declare openly what Jesus has said secretly and transformed it into a prediction that whatever the disciples say secretly will be made public. In a way not found in Matthew, then, Luke shows Jesus describing an inexorable process by which all that Jesus’ followers say will be revealed, known and announced from the rooftops. Just as what was done by Jesus and his followers was not done in a corner, so also what his followers say will be broadcasted to all.

VII. Second Objection: Resurrected Jesus Does Not Appear to All the People Despite the unique way in which Luke and Acts use the phrase “all the people,” the open, ubiquitously accessible aspect of the presentation of Jesus’ life and 6 Paul S. Minear, “Jesus’ Audiences, according to Luke,” in The Composition of Luke’s Gospel: Selected Studies from Novum Testamentum (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 41. 7  Minear, “Jesus’ Audiences” 43. 8 Minear, “Jesus’ Audiences” 43.

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teachings that Luke and Acts present is not matched in the way Luke and Acts present Jesus’ resurrection. As Peter says in Acts 10:40–41: τοῦτον ὁ θεὸς ἤγειρεν τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ καὶ ἔδωκεν αὐτὸν ἐμφανῆ γενέσθαι, 41 οὐ παντὶ τῷ λαῷ ἀλλὰ μάρτυσι τοῖς προκεχειροτονημένοις ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ, ἡμῖν, οἵτινες συνεφάγομεν καὶ συνεπίομεν αὐτῷ μετὰ τὸ ἀναστῆναι αὐτὸν ἐκ νεκρῶν·

In the scheme of Luke and Acts these witnesses are: Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James and other women who first go to the empty tomb (Luke 23:55–24:11), Clopas and his companion on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13–35), and the apostles (Luke 24:36–49; Acts 1:1–3), especially Simon Peter (Luke 24:34). So the open stage of Luke is a stage on which the life and death of Jesus occurs. But the third act of the drama, the resurrection, is played before a limited audience, witnesses handpicked by God. As a careful reader of Paul’s letters, we would expect Luke to emphasize how many people saw the resurrected Christ, on the analogy of Paul’s description of the resurrected Christ’s appearance to over five hundred witnesses in 1 Cor 15:6. But instead Luke is rather guarded in identifying and enumerating witnesses of the resurrection.

VIII. Rejoinder: Utility of the Limited Stage of Resurrection Witnesses The limited audience before whom Luke and Acts portray Jesus’ resurrection is similar to what we find in the other gospels. The valid charge of the objection just raised is that this limited audience seems to be in discontinuity with the open stage aspects of the volumes, with their frequent references to the nations, the people, and their use of the adjective “all” in describing Jesus’ audiences. Since these aspects remain unique to Luke, we need to try to understand why Luke and Acts want to retain the narrative format of a limited audience for Jesus’ resurrection. One way in which the limited audience of Jesus’ resurrection positively serves the narrative scheme of Luke and Acts is that it adds credibility to Paul, whom the risen Jesus confronts and encourages.9 Since Paul claims to be the last person to whom the risen Jesus appeared (1 Cor 15:8), the limited number of these witnesses that Luke and Acts presents serves to accentuate Paul’s apostolic credentials. Paul, quoting Isaiah, gets the last word in Acts, highlighting the implied author’s claim that a singular, unified understanding of Christian truth is found in the Pauline reading of Scripture.10  Acts 9:4–5 (21:6–10; 26:13–18); 16:7; 18:9–10; 23:11.  François Bovon, “‘Schön hat der heilige Geist durch den Propheten Jesaja zu euren Vätern gesprochen’ (Act 28 25),” ZNW 75 (1984): 227, 229.  9 10

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The resurrection witnesses in Luke and Acts are more bold and more self-assured in their witness than those in the other gospels. The comparison is easiest to make with Mark 16:8. Also, the witnesses in Luke and Acts are presented as continuously worshiping God in the temple, another aspect of Luke’s open stage, very different from the other canonical gospels. Whereas Mark and John tend to view the temple as a place that is hostile to Jesus, Luke, perhaps because it is written so long after the temple was destroyed, can more easily situate the followers of the resurrected Christ in the temple, a topos that is foreshadowed in its opening scene of all the people praying while Zecharias offers incense. While Jesus’ authority is challenged in the temple in Luke as in the other Synoptics, Luke omits the cursing of the fig tree narrative so closely associated with the temple in Matthew and Mark, and instead presents a more hopeful version of this narrative as a parable within his travel narrative.11 The gospel ends with the apostles praising God in the temple (24:53), and Acts depicts Jesus’ followers worshipping in the temple, with many of its priests becoming obedient to the faith.12 Yes, Peter is arrested for preaching in the temple area, and Paul’s custody begins with a temple scene (Acts 21), but in general, Luke films announcements of God’s kingdom inaugurated by Jesus as occurring with less opposition in the temple.

IX. The Prophet Speaks to the Leaders of the People The Herods in Luke include a king of Judea (1:5) and one of Israel (23:6–12). The latter Herod’s interaction and rapprochement with Pilate in legal proceedings that lead to Jesus’ death seem to be narrated in order to follow the script provided by Psalm 2:1–2, a connection expressly indicated in Acts 4:25–28. Minear notes that Luke distinguishes between the people and its leaders: “Whenever Luke wished to draw a distinction between the leaders and the led he regularly used “the people” for the larger group. The rulers (elders, priests, Pharisees, scribes, etc.) fear the λαός (Acts iv 21) and also seek to stir up in this same λαός hostility to the apostles (iv 27). The context usually makes it quite clear that in these cases λαός equals Israel minus these leaders. The apostles and these leaders openly compete for the allegiance of the men of Israel (iii 9, 11, 12, 23). Luke was not hostile to Israel, only to the rulers of this λαός.”

I am interested in the rulers here because Luke’s inclusion of them seems to fit with his need to portray Jesus’ life as occurring openly before them. There is first of all the identification of rulers contemporary to Jesus’ birth (2:1–2) and those 11 Jesus’ authority is challenged in the temple – Matt 21:23–27; Mark 11:27–33; Luke 20:1–8, see also John 2:18–22. John 8:48–59 presents a scene most hostile in Jesus. Jesus cleanses temple, curses the fig tree and it withers – Matt 21:10–22; Mark 11:12–26. Cf. Luke 13:6–9; 19:45–46. 12 Acts 2:46; 5:12, 21; 6:7.

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contemporary to the beginning of John the Baptist’s ministry (3:1–2). This is not to say that these rulers knew about Jesus’ birth or John the Baptist’s ministry, as in other narrative panels’ descriptions of Jesus before rulers (cf. Luke 13:31–32; 23:1–16). But it is this author’s way of emphasizing that Jesus’ birth happened in history, in known time. But then there are the rulers before whom Jesus appears. We might expect Luke to focus more in the trial narratives on the leaders of the Sanhedrin, named already in 3:2. Though he does not name the high priests in the trial narratives, he does distinguish between the leaders and the people in 22:66 – συνήχθη

τὸ πρεσβυτέριον τοῦ λαοῦ, ἀρχιερεῖς τε καὶ γραμματεῖς, καῖ ἀπήγαγον αὐτὸν εἰς τὸ συνέδριον αὐτῶν. The leaders are depicted in the second volume in thicker texture, for Gamaliel is the voice that allows the apostles to be released and to go on “teaching and announcing Christ Jesus” (Acts 5:42).

X. The Prophet Like Moses, Predicted by All the Prophets Acts is the one New Testament book that links Jesus to the prophet like Moses (Acts 3:22–26; 7:37), mentioned in the Torah (Deut 18:15, 18–19; 34:10). Acts does not develop this link explicitly. But the narrative setting of Pentecost, the festival linked to the giving of the Torah, is a subtle way, like the mention of ἔξοδος of Luke 9:31, of placing Jesus at or above the level of Moses. And Luke and Acts are unique for viewing Jesus as one predicted by “all the prophets” (Luke 24:27; Acts 3:18; 10:43), or simply by “the prophets” (Luke 24:25, 44). This accessibility is a canonical analogue to the narratological openness that this author displays. In other words, just as Jesus is seen and known by all in Israel according to the gospel of Luke and summaries in Acts, so he was predicted by all the prophets, a patent exaggeration.

XI. The Ever-Widening Λόγος The open staging of Jesus’ actions and teachings in Luke offers its author a challenge when writing his second volume. How can Jesus be portrayed as teaching and healing as a prophet after he has ascended to heaven? One strategy of course is for Acts to emphasize the Holy Spirit’s decisive role in the disciples’ lives and ministry (Acts 4:8, 31; 5:3, 32; 10:19, 44; 13:2; 19:6). Indeed this spirit is “the spirit of Jesus” (16:7). This strategy of emphasizing the Holy Spirit’s role is well known; we will not belabor it here. A second strategy that our author employs in Acts to keep the drama playing on an open, expansive stage is to focus on how the λόγος extends out in the world. As Pervo has summarized, “In the Gospel, Jesus was the proclaimer; in

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Acts he is the object of the proclamation.”13 The term λόγος is used by itself, or in such phrases as λόγος τοῦ θεοῦ, λόγος τοῦ κυρίου, λόγος τῆς σωτηρίας, λόγος τῆς χάριτος,and λόγος τοῦ εὐαγγελίου.14 It appears in close proximity with the kingdom of God in enough cases to lead readers to understand that λόγος amounts to a proclamation of the kingdom of God (Acts 8:12, 14; 14:22, 25; 19:8, 10; 20:25; 32) that is in agreement with Israel’s prophets (15:15). Because descriptions of the expanding λόγος occur alongside reports of an increase of believers, one aspect of the term’s use in Acts seems to be the number of people following the proclamation (6:7; 19:18–20). In most cases, the spread of the word seems tied to a geographical area, though in 6:7 its growth in Jerusalem includes extension across a cultic line: πολύς τε ὄχλος τῶν ἱερέων ὑπήκουον τῇ πίστει. Beyond Jerusalem, the λόγος goes out through all of Judea (8:1; 10:37); it moves through Israel (8:5–13, 40; 9:36–42), and on into the nations (13:49; 19:10; 28:30–31). The term is not used in Paul’s debut scene in Rome, nor in the following description. But the conclusion’s reference to Paul κηρύσσων τὴν βασιλείαν τοὺ θεοῦ καὶ διδάσκων τὰ περὶ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ is tantamount to saying that the word is being proclaimed in Rome.

XII. The Open Stage and Other Themes of Luke and Acts So far we have considered the ways in which Luke and Acts present Jesus and the word about Jesus on an open stage. Before we consider the composite impetus behind this open stage, it might be useful to ask the question of how this open stage relates to other themes in Luke and Acts.

XIII. Hospitality Brendan Byrne has helpfully characterized the gospel of Luke as oriented around hospitality: “The One who comes as visitor and guest in fact becomes host and offers a hospitality in which human beings and, potentially, the entire world, can become truly human, be at home, can know salvation in the depths of their hearts.”15 With this in mind, one could argue that Luke and Acts present Jesus as openly proclaiming his message to all and the word of Jesus spreading to all because of God’s hospitality for humanity. The affirmation here is analogous to  Pervo, Acts 687.  λόγος simpliciter: 8:4; 10:36; 14:25; 17:11; λόγος τοῦ θεοῦ: 6:7; 8:14; 11:1, 19; 13:5, 7, 44, 46, 48; 16:32; 17:13; 18:11; λόγος τοῦ κυρίου: 8:25; 12:24; 13:49; 15:35, 36; 19:10, 20, 20:35; λόγος τῆς σωτηρίας: 13:26; λόγος τῆς χάριτος: 14:3; 20:32; λόγος τοῦ εὐαγγελίου: 15:7. 15  Brendan Byrne, S. J., The Hospitality of God: A Reading of Luke’s Gospel (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical, 2000), 4 (his emphases). 13 14

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Luke 14:15–24, which adds another invitation and prioritizes society’s marginalized in comparison to the Q version of the parable of the great supper, emphasizing that the banquet hall has to be filled. Similarly the whole two volumes of Luke and Acts present Jesus and the proclamation of Jesus as going out to all.16

XIV. Universalism Byrne’s reading of Luke focusing on the theme of hospitality fits well with the commonly acknowledged universal horizon of Luke and Acts. Like Paul in Rom 1:18–2:29, the stage of Luke and Acts is ethnically open, focused on accounting for Israel and all other nations. This openness is apparent in the favorable light in which Samaritans are shown in Luke, and in the way in which the ethnic tension in the Jerusalem church is resolved.17 Even the description of the leaders in Antioch, including Barnabas, Simeon called Niger, Lucius from Cyrene, and Manaen who was closely associated with Herod the tetrarch, seems to communicate that the leadership of that particular church included people from varied ethnic backgrounds (Acts 13:1).

XV. Salvation History Like Paul in Rom 5:12–21, the stage of Luke and Acts is temporally expansive, seeking to account for all of salvation history. It is this salvation historical orientation of Luke and Acts that overlaps with the way in which Luke and Acts portray Jesus as predicted by all the prophets and indeed all of Scripture, as we have seen above. As is well known in regard to eschatology, so for salvation history, Luke and Acts have significant differences. In Acts, the Jews’ rejection of Jesus seems to be a theologoumenon that has swollen to influence every feature of how Acts treats salvation history.18 In addition, the references to the ascension and parousia of Jesus in Luke and Acts also fit with its extensive view of salvation history.19 It remains for us to consider why Luke might employ a more open stage than the other canonical evangelists.

 Cf. Luke 14:15–24 with Matt 22:1–14.  Samaritans (Luke 10:29–37; 17:11–19; but cf. Luke 10:51–56 for a more mixed portrait); ethnic tension resolved in Acts 6:1–7. 18  Pervo, Acts 22–25; 684–85. 19  Jesus predicted by all the prophets in Acts 3:18, 24; 10:43; by all of Scripture in Luke 24:27, 44; Acts 26:22; the ascension in Luke 24:50–51 and Acts 1:9; the parousia in Acts 1:11. 16 17

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XVI. Formative Forces behind the Open Stage 1. Luke’s Scriptures Luke’s interest in the Deuteronomistic History is well known from the Elijah / ​ Elisha patterning in his depictions of Jesus, to his inclusion of an ascension scene. The literary connection between Samuel and Jesus is known from the quotations from 1 Samuel found in Luke 2:40, 49, 52.20 It is also in this section where we read that: Καὶ ἐμεγαλύνθη Σαμουηλ, καὶ ἦν κύριος μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ, καὶ οὐκ ἔπεσεν ἀπὸ πάντων τῶν λόγων αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν.καὶ ἔγνωσαν πᾶς Ισραηλ ἀπὸ Δαν καὶ ἕως Βηρσαβεε ὅτι πιστὸς Σαμουηλ εἰς προφήτην τῷ κυρίῳ. καὶ προσέθετο κύριος δηλωθῆναι ἐν Σηλωμ, ὅτι ἀπεκαλύφθη κύριος πρὸς Σαμουηλ· καὶ ἐπιστεύθη Σαμουηλ προφήτης γενέσθαι τῷ κυρίῳ εἰς πάντα Ισραηλ ἀπ᾽ ἄκρων τῆς γῆς καὶ ἕως ἄκρων (LXX 1 Sam 3:19–21a).

All Israel’s recognition of Samuel as prophet can possibly be paired with all Israel’s later recognition of David as king (2 Sam 3:10, 21; 5:1–5). The implied author of Luke and Acts seems to regard Paul’s letters as Scripture.21 Τhe aspect of Luke and Acts’s open stage that shows all the prophets predicting Jesus seems related to Paul’s statement at the beginning of Romans. One specific verbal link where this is especially clear is the way in which the ἃ προκατήγγειλεν διὰ στόματος πάντων τῶν προφητῶν παθεῖν τὸν χριστὸν αὐτοῦ seems to follow the ὃ προεπηγγείλατο διὰ τῶν προφητῶν αὐτοῦ ἐν γραφαῖς ἁγίαις περὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ αὐτοῦ discourse in Rom 1:2–3. Paul’s use of Isaiah may have prompted our author to go back and use language and images from Isaiah. The author of Luke and Acts, like Paul in Rom 10:18–21, grounds the idea in Isaiah that Israel as a whole knows about Jesus and Jesus’ message.22 Simeon’s programmatic statement contains conceptual and verbal parallels with Isa 52:10. LXX Isa 52:10

Luke 2:29–32

καὶ ἀποκαλύψει κύριος τὸν βραχίονα αὐτοῦ τὸν ἅγιον ἐνώπιον πάντων τῶν ἐθνῶν, καὶ ὄψονται πάντα τὰ ἄκρα τῆς γῆς τὴν σωτηρίαν τὴν παρὰ τοῦ θεοῦ.

Νῦν ἀπολύεις τὸν δοῦλόν σου, δέσποτα, κατὰ τὸ ῥῆμά σου ἐν εἰρήνῃ· ὅτι εἶδον οἱ ὀφθαλμοί μου τὸ σωτήριόν σου ὃ ἡτοίμασας κατὰ πρόσωπον πάντων τῶν λαῶν, φῶς εἰς ἀποκάλυψιν ἐθνῶν καὶ δόξαν λαοῦ σου Ἰσραήλ.

 1 Sam 2:21, 26. I. Pervo, Dating Acts: Between the Evangelists and the Apologists (Santa Rosa, CA: Polebridge, 2006), 51–147. 22  Jacob Jervell, Luke and the People of God: A New Look at Luke-Acts (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1972), 174. 20

21 Richard

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The revelation of God’s salvation in the sight of all the nations seems to be behind Simeon’s programmatic statement and may well have prompted Luke to set other narrative material on a more open stage than in the other gospels. Luke and Acts know this section of Isaiah well, as we see in the crafting of the eunuch episode (Acts 8:26–40), from the description of a temple opened to the foreigner and the eunuch (Isa 56:3–5), and the final servant song (Isa 52:13–53:12). This use of the final servant song is an extension of the appropriation of Isaiah not found in Paul. Besides Paul’s use of Isaiah, the author of Luke and Acts may well have taken some universal statements in Paul’s letters and developed them. Paul’s emphasis on how God’s righteousness comes to Jews and Gentiles in Romans (Rom 1:16–17; 5:17), his claim to have evangelized a wide arc of the Mediterranean (Rom 15:19), his address to all who call on Jesus everywhere and his tendency to speak of what is done in all the churches in his Corinthian correspondence may also have led our author to present Jesus on an open stage.23 Our author ends his second volume with Paul on an open stage: Paul receives a long escort up the Italian peninsula to Rome (Acts 28:15). On the appointed day when he meets with the Jewish residents, πλείονες come to hear Paul. Though many of them do not accept Paul’s gospel, Paul tells them that God’s salvation is sent to the nations (28:28). The book ends with Paul welcoming all who come to see him, preaching and teaching μετὰ πάσης παρρησίας ἀκωλύτως (28:31). 2. Josephus The author of Luke and Acts may also gain his Scriptural knowledge via Josephus’s Antiquities.24 Luke’s patterning of the boy Jesus on Samuel seems in part to be based on Josephus’ account, for it is Josephus who tells us that Samuel began serving as an intermediary for God, receiving the divine oracle at night in his residence at the tabernacle, when he was twelve years old.25 I suggest that the reason Luke 2:42 tells us Jesus was twelve when he visited and first taught in the temple is that the type for the boy Jesus that Luke is employing, the boy Samuel who was raised at the tabernacle, is identified by Josephus as being twelve years old when God spoke to him there. But more significantly for this essay, Josephus paraphrases and summarizes LXX 1 Sam 3:19–20 as follows: Σαμουήλου δὲ ηὔξετο ἐπὶ πλέον ἡ δόξα πάντων ὧν προεφήτευσεν ἀληθινῶν βλεπομένων.26 This is worth noting because Luke uses the same lead verb in 2:40 – τὸ δὲ παιδίον ηὔξανεν … This parallel might be rejected  1 Cor 1:2; 4:17; 7:17; 14:33b; 16:1, 19; 2 Cor 8:1; 11:28. Pervo, Dating Acts 149–99, though the instance of Jesus-Samuel patterning via Josephus that follows here is not found in Pervo’s thorough survey. 25  Ant. 5.348 Σαμούηλος δὲ πεπληρωκὼς ἔτος ἤδη δωδέκατον προεφήτευε. See Luke 2:42. 26 Ant. 5.351. 23

24 See

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because it seems that 1 Sam 3:19–20 and Josephus Ant. 5.351 state that Samuel’s reputation increases or that he is known by all, while this is not so clear of Jesus in Luke 2:40. However, when Luke 2:40 is read alongside the summary in 2:52, it seems probable that Jesus’ reputation is included in the way in which Luke 2:40 is describing Jesus’ growth. The short notice of Samuel’s death in LXX 1 Sam 28:3, καὶ Σαμουηλ ἀπέθανεν, καὶ ἐκόψαντο αὐτὸν πᾶς Ισραηλ καὶ θάπτουσιν αὐτὸν ἐν Αρμαθαιμ ἐν πόλει αὐτοῦ, is expanded in Josephus’ telling to emphasize Samuel’s fame and significance. Included in Josephus’ expansion is a description of the public and private mourning that occurred when Samuel died: ἀποθνῄσκει δὲ κατὰ

τοῦτον τὸν καιρὸν καὶ Σαμουῆλος ὁ προφήτης, ἀνὴρ οὐ τῆς τυχούσης ἀπολαύσας παρὰ τοῖς Ἑβραίοις τιμῆς· …27 This confirms my identification of Josephus’s interest in

presenting Samuel as well-known in Israel, a possible source for Luke’s tendency to portray Jesus as similarly recognized by all. 3. Luke’s Later Date Luke writes at a later date than some or all of the other canonical gospels. Luke has by the exigencies arising out of the longer gap between the subject of his narrative and its composition a wider, more comprehensive stage than gospels written earlier. The way that Luke dates the appearance of John the Baptist is an example. A young Robert Grant suggested in regard to Luke 3:1–2: “This interest in chronology is late: it comes as Christianity becomes self-consciously an historical religion.” But Grant immediately went on to reject this as the reason for the grand dating offered in Luke 3:1–2, since he considers Luke’s gospel to be different in genre from the contemporary historians’ works that also include such dating formulae. 28 Instead, Grant suggests that Luke 3:1–2 is motivated by its author’s need to provide certainty regarding the age of Jesus and length of his ministry.29 It seems to me that Grant may have succumbed to a perceived need to choose between the poles of an artificially conceived dichotomy. There is definitely an interest in chronology beyond simply ascertaining Jesus’ age and the length of his ministry in Luke, and this interest seems to result both in indicators of time and narrative settings that emphasize the wide and profound impact made by Jesus. Its sequel, Acts, does not have the focus on eschatology that is evident in Luke.30 But the sequel continues to have an interest in salvation history and the broad scope of the word of Jesus.31

 Cf. LXX 1 Sam 28:3 with Josephus, Ant. 6.292–94. M. Grant, “The Occasion of Luke III:1–2,” HTR 33 (1940):151. 29  Grant, “The Occasion” 151–54. 30  Pervo, Acts 25. 31 Pervo, Dating Acts 321–33. 27

28 Robert

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Another way this consideration might be framed is as follows: the further in time an author is from a narrative subject, the heavier the burden of proof that the subject is important and really matters to the implied audience. One way of establishing the text’s significance and confirming its relevance for the audience is to widen the scope and deepen the impact of the events, and at least for the gospel of Luke this could be partially behind statements that “all the prophets” predicted Jesus and that all in Judea and Galilee knew about Jesus. 4. Ἀσφάλεια The open stage evokes ἀσφάλεια. As we would expect, Luke does not include Mark’s parable of the seed growing while the farmer sleeps, a parable on the secret growth of God’s kingdom (Mark 4:26–29). Luke contradicts Mark’s narrative detail on the silence of the women who witnessed the empty tomb, emphasizing more than Matthew the scope of their witness (Luke 24:9; cf. Matt 28:8; Mark 16:8). Matthew follows Mark in stating that Jesus did not speak publicly except in parables, a statement connoting the enigmatic nature of Jesus’ teaching that Luke does not include (Matt 13:34–35; Mark 4:33–34). The ἀσφάλεια that Luke seeks to create is tied to his dating of events (2:1–2; 3:1–2). There is perhaps the implication that since the events of Jesus’ birth and public ministry are datable to publicly known magistracies, there can be certainty of pinpointing Jesus’ age and the length of his ministry.32 And not only is the age and length of ministry easily reckoned, the message of Jesus is also a matter of public knowledge (Acts 10:37, 43; 26:22–23, 26). When these “not done in a corner” statements are examined in their contexts in Acts, it is apparent that they function as a way to guarantee the reliability of the message, to evoke ἀσφάλεια in the hearers.

XVII. Conclusion Near the end of his Acts commentary, Pervo comments on Acts’s last word, ἀκωλύτως: “The final adverb is brilliant, worthy of a bravo, were commentators authorized to introduce such exclamations.” He then cites places where a cognate verb and infinitives are used in the “What is to hinder baptism?” questions of Acts 8:36; 10:47; 11:17.33 Paul’s preaching is unhindered, i. e., the λόγος regarding Jesus is now announced in the world’s capital. 32

 Grant, “The Occasion” 151–54. Acts 687.

33 Pervo,

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The open ending of Acts as well, which suppresses the results of a trial and does not explicitly narrate Paul’s martyrdom, is also a way of keeping Paul on a wider, more open stage than an ending that endeavored to tie up all the loose ends.34 If readers were informed of the results of Paul’s trial and of his death, the stage would shrink to a grave. So it seems that the ending of Acts fits with the phenomena that together comprise the open stage in Luke and Acts: their debut scenes, characterizations of Jesus as prophet who fulfills all of Scripture, and vistas of the ever-widening λόγος. Whether these phenomena result from the implied author’s understanding that Jesus and the proclamation of Jesus as inaugurator of the kingdom of God fulfill Israel’s scriptures, as well as their author’s quest to evoke ἀσφάλεια in readers, must be left open. Someone else will be able to make a certain judgment on that part of my thesis, someone with a wide-ranging knowledge of these two different, but somehow connected, volumes of Scripture – my friend and mentor, Richard Pervo.

34 See

Pervo, Acts 688–90 for further reflections on the literary utility of the ending of Acts.

Perfect Martyr? Dangerous Material in the Stoning of Stephen Clare K. Rothschild I. Introduction The impetus for this essay written in honor of my dear friend and mentor Richard I. Pervo traces back to the winter meeting of the Chicago Society of Biblical Research hosted by Judson University on January 25, 2014. The theme of the meeting was Luke-Acts and Richard offered the first paper comparing the canonical Acts and the Acts of Paul. Patricia L. Walters (Rockford University) gave the second paper – new research addressing questions arising from her publication, The Assumed Authorial Unity of Luke and Acts.1 This book (a revised version of Walter’s dissertation at Loyola University Chicago) contains a statistical analysis of Luke and Acts that demonstrates highly significant differences in the prose styles of each book. Walters argues that a comprehensive reexamination of the least contested authorial strata of the two books proves beyond reasonable doubt that they were written by different authors. Neither Richard nor I had been persuaded by Walters’s book, but the work she presented that day – addressing various objections that had arisen after its publication  – did, to our surprise, persuade us. At the end of Walter’s paper, I can remember turning incredulously to Richard who looked back at me as if to say, “Did Irenaeus write Acts?” Since then, it has been our dirty little secret that – for at least a split second, Richard Pervo harbored the thought that Luke did not write Acts. In the years since that meeting, I have become increasingly skeptical that Luke wrote Acts.2 This brief essay represents my first formal investigation. It takes a tentative approach, asking only whether the assumption that Luke wrote Acts has blinded scholars to a better solution to one interpretive conundrum. Among other important and influential publications, Pervo has written an erudite and, 1  With sincere gratitude to Harold Attridge and Robert Matthew Calhoun for substantial editorial critique and proofreading on an earlier version of this essay. Patricia L. Walters, The Assumed Authorial Unity of Luke and Acts: A Reassessment of the Evidence, SNTSMS 145 (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009). 2  In this essay the author of the Third Gospel will be referred to as ‘Luke’ for the sake of ease but without prejudice toward the actual identity of the author.

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at times, very witty commentary on Acts in which he enumerates similarities between the martyrdom of Stephen (Acts 6:8–8:1a, 2) and the Lukan passion of Jesus (Luke 22:47–23:56). However, closer examination of the two reports reveals surprising disagreements. I begin with an overview of the last hundred years of scholarly discussion of this passage, after which I offer a comparative analysis of the two passages and conclude with implications for the authorship and purpose of Acts.

II. History of Scholarship Over the previous century, most commentators on Stephen’s martyrdom have emphasized parallels with the Lukan passion narrative.3 Ernst Haenchen writes, “Thus in relating the trial of the first martyr, Luke had the trial of Jesus in mind.”4 Charles Kingsley Barrett comments: “ψευδεῖς [Acts 6:13] … suggests accounts of the trial of Jesus. … The story of Stephen shows further parallels with the story of Jesus; these will be noted.”5 Joseph Fitzmyer expresses a similar sentiment: “This [Stephen’s martyrdom] is another instance of the parallelism with which Luke has fitted out his entire story; it is part of his imitative historiography, the way he has chosen to present his historical narrative.”6 Richard Pervo does some of the finest work in the commentary on Stephen’s story. This section of Acts is, at he points out, nearly 70 verses in length, 75 % of which are devoted to a speech.7 Arrested within five verses of the outset, sixty verses intervene before Stephen’s assault. Pervo writes: “The story of Stephen encases the sturdy meat of his address within two very thin slices of bread.”8 He opens the section on Stephen’s ministry (6:8–15) pointing to parallels with Jesus’s passion in Luke: “Verses 11–14 reveal that the proper model is not Peter but Jesus, as the account rapidly dons the vestments of the passion narrative” – an opinion he repeats in the opening statement on Stephen’s martyrdom (7:54–8:3): “The martyrdom of Stephen has been shaped to conform to the passion of Jesus.”9 About vv. 11–14, Pervo adds, “These verses constitute a single rapid sentence that propels Stephen 3  For the purposes of argument, I presume in this essay that Luke had a version of the Markan passion. 4 Ernst Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary, trans. Bernard Noble, Gerald Shinn, Hugh Anderson and R. McL. Wilson (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1971), 274. 5  C. K. Barrett, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, 2 vols. ICC (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1994–98), 1:327, cf. 328. 6  Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Acts of the Apostles: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 31 (New York: Doubleday, 1998), 390. 7 Richard I. Pervo, Acts: A Commentary, ed. Harold W. Attridge, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 164. 8  Pervo, Acts, 165. 9 Pervo, Acts, 164, 195.

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from the receipt of criticism by members of a synagogue to the object of the gravest charges before the highest court in the land. Stephen, it suddenly transpires, will follow the footsteps of Jesus.”10 Mikael Parsons shares Pervo’s view: … the scene now more closely echoes the arrest and trial of Jesus. The charge of blasphemy and the reference to false witnesses echo the passion of Jesus preserved in Mark 14:56–57, 64 (cf. Matt 26:59–60, 65). The passage also echoes Luke’s gospel. Like Jesus, Stephen is led into the Sanhedrin (Acts 6:12; Luke 22:66) and the people are stirred first against Jesus, now against Stephen (Luke 23:13–25). The tension has escalated here in Acts to unprecedented proportions.11

In addition to these and other important views of commentators, a burgeoning interest in the topic of martyrdom has compelled a few ad hoc treatments of Stephen – Shelly Matthews’s exquisite monograph, for example, The Perfect Martyr. 12 Taking her cue from Irenaeus’s reference to Stephen as the martyr who “fulfilled the perfect doctrine, imitating in all ways the Teacher of martyrdom and praying for those who were killing him” (Haer. 3.13), Matthews argues that the narration of Stephen’s death in canonical Acts is relevant to the second-century discourse on martyrdom. She not only connects Stephen’s martyrdom in Acts to the death of Jesus in the Third Gospel, but “to the conversion of the Paul in Acts, for Stephen’s death is closely modeled on the death of Jesus and closely linked to the conversion of Paul, the apostle to the Gentiles.”13 Matthews rightly emphasizes that the book of Acts blames the Jews for Stephen’s death: While the grounds for the martyr’s death are not obvious, the identity of the persecutors is. They are Jews living in Jerusalem, who come from the far reaches of the earth. Saul / ​ Paul is also implicated as one who receives the coats of those stoning Stephen, his pre-conversion presence at the stoning standing as a sign of the violence of his former life, when he persecuted the church to the utmost. That the death comes by stoning makes clear the Ioudaioi who murder Stephen are despicable rabble-rousers since, from a Roman imperial view, stoning is the crime of the barbarous. The vile persecutors serve as a perfect foil to the innocent and generous martyr who, filled with the Holy Spirit, prays an extravagant prayer of mercy upon them.14

Matthews views Acts’s pro-Roman Tendenz as the other side of an anti-Jewish coin:  Pervo, Acts, 168. C. Parsons, Acts, Paideia (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008), 87. 12  Matthews expresses mild disdain for the historical-critical method, reducing its insights to fact and fiction (Perfect Martyr: The Stoning of Stephen and the Construction of Christian Identity [Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2010], 16–20). She seldom cites major commentators, inviting dialogue, rather, with ideological interpreters. 13  Perfect Martyr, 3. 14 Matthews, Perfect Martyr, 4. 10

11 Mikeal

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The Roman officials depicted in Acts, with few exceptions, not only refrain from persecuting the Way but also take great pains to ‘rescue’ Paul from his persecutors. Concerning the relationship of Jesus followers to ‘the Jews’ – hoi Ioudaioi – the force of its assertion is unrelenting: The dividing line between these two groups lies at the point of the persecution of the former by the latter. In the schema of Acts, unbelieving Ioudaioi kill and desire to kill; Jesus followers are persecuted and killed by unbelieving Ioudaioi.15

Acts’s pro-Roman position points, for Matthews, to its purpose: … the explanation for this peculiar avoidance of Roman violence … is related to Acts’ legitimating function. … In a narrative designed to reassure its readers of their place in the empire, the loss of prominent leaders of the movement through state-sanctioned execution is a subject best avoided, or if not avoided at least deflected. … The stoning of Stephen … provides … a means to engage in such deflection by underscoring the centrality of persecution to the Jesus movement, while avoiding any mention of Roman involvement in this pivotal execution. The flip side of veiling Roman agency in violent actions toward Jesus believers is to assign this agency to Jews.16

Returning, now, to Haenchen, after reporting that Luke had the trial of Jesus in mind for Stephen’s story, he offers an important caveat: Thus in relating the trial of the first martyr, Luke had the trial of Jesus in mind and used material which might have been dangerous if applied to the earlier occasion. It would therefore be methodologically wrong to try to deduce something of Stephen’s real history from the details of 6.13 f.17

By “gefährliches Material” (“dangerous material”), Haenchen denotes two elements that Luke (the presumed author of Acts) omits from Mark in his description of Jesus’s death: (1) the false witnesses and (2) the alleged saying of Jesus concerning the destruction of the Temple.18 Hans Conzelmann agrees with Haenchen: “The false witnesses are reminiscent of the trial of Jesus: they are not found in Luke’s account of the passion,”19 and “what is presented here is the accusation against Jesus as found in Mark 14:58, again absent from Luke’s passion

 Matthews, Perfect Martyr, 56–57. Perfect Martyr, 57, emphasis added. Matthews sharply distinguishes between Jews and Romans in Acts. See, however, Trevor W. Thompson on the letter of Claudius Lysias: “Writing in Character: Lysias to Felix as Double-Pseudepigraphon,” in The Interface of Orality and Writing: Seeing, Speaking, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres, ed. Annette Weissenrieder and Robert B. Coote, WUNT I/260 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 393–407. Roman law may be good, even if the occasional Roman official defending that law is not. 17  Acts of the Apostles, 274, emphasis added. German: “Lukas hat also beim Prozeß des ersten Märtyrers Jesu Prozeß vor Augen gehabt und hier material gebracht, das dort gefährlich gewesen ware” (Die Apostelgeschichte, 16th ed., KEK 3 [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1977], 267). 18 Acts of the Apostles, 274. 19  Hans Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, ed. Eldon Jay Epp and Christopher R. Matthews, trans. James Limburg, A. Thomas Krabel and Donald H. Juel, Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 48. 15

16 Matthews,

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account.”20 Carl Holladay perceives irony in the transferal of this “dangerous material” from Mark (i. e., Jesus) to Acts (i. e., Stephen): Luke’s account of Jesus’s trial before the Sanhedrin (22:66–71) omits the reference to false witnesses and their charge that Jesus would / ​could destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days. By including here, rather than in the Lukan passion narrative, the threat that Jesus poses to the temple, Luke ironically interprets what has been reported in Acts 3–5. The apostles’ unrelenting proclamation, along with their healing miracles, has been carried out in the temple precincts. The community of believers that has formed around these dramatic displays of power has arisen within the temple. Even more remarkable, a sizeable group of priests are now numbered among the new converts (6:7). At the narrative level, what the false witnesses charge is true; Jesus the Nazarene poses a serious threat to the temple and to the continuing viability of Mosaic customs.21

As Holladay rightly acknowledges, if the Markan material was dangerous for Jesus, it was dangerous for the early Christians as well. After all, Acts suggests that Stephen spoke against the temple and the law, even claiming that Jesus of Nazareth would destroy the temple. Matthews argues that Acts engages in rejection of οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι and legitimation of early Christians. However, even the early Christians in this passage – as Jewish-Christians dwelling (permanently or temporarily) in Jerusalem – are in some sense Ἰουδαῖοι, including Stephen. And, the incendiary accusations of the “false witnesses,” which Stephen’s lengthy speech not only fails to address but turns against them, all but legitimate his stoning. By including the dangerous materials left out of Luke’s passion narrative as the accusations levied against Stephen in his pre-trial, and by corroborating these accusations in his speech, the writer portrays Jerusalem in toto (both Jews and Jewish-Christians) as hazardous. Closer examination of the details of Stephen’s story attempts to demonstrate this claim.

III. Comparative Analysis Pervo offers a chart (reproduced below) to show the similarities between the martyrdom of Stephen and the passion of Jesus. Action

Mark

Luke

Acts

1. Refutation impossible 2. Seizure by officials 3. Trial by Sanhedrin 4. False Witness 5. Will destroy temple

12:34 14.43, 46 14:53 14:56–57 14:58

yes yes yes no no

6:10 6:12 6:12, 7:1 6:13 6:14

 Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles, 48.  Carl R. Holladay, Acts: A Commentary, NTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2016), 158, cf. 176. 20 21

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Action

Mark

Luke

Acts

6. Temple = artifact 7. Son of man saying 8. Blasphemy 9. Question of high priest 10. “Commit my spirit” 11. Loud cry [12. Prayer for enemies22

14:58 14:62 14:64 14:61 – 15:34 –

no yes no no yes yes 23:34

7:48 7:56 6:11 7:1 7:59 7:60 7:60]

This chart demonstrates that Stephen’s story shares material in common with both Luke and Mark.23 However, this chart does not adequately emphasize that a number of critical elements missing from Luke’s report about Jesus are found in the report about Stephen in Acts.24 The designation “yes” in Pervo’s “Luke” column (above) in lieu of chapter and verse numbers disguises the fact that the kernel of Stephen’s story (6:8–15, 7:54–8:1a, bold font added above) comes from Mark and was omitted from Luke (i. e., Haenchen’s “dangerous material”). I have created a supplementary chart to display this emphasis. It omits Pervo’s first item, “Refutation impossible” (since that similarity is not a core part of either Jesus’s or Stephen’s passion story). It also includes the Gospel of Matthew for the sake of comparison.25 Chart I: Similarities between Jesus’s Passion in Matthew, Mark, and Luke and the Report of Stephen’s Stoning in Acts Matthew

Mark

Luke

Acts

26:50 Seizure by officials 26:57 Trial by Sanhedrin

14:43, 46 Seizure by officials 14:53 Trial by Sanhedrin

22:52, 54 Seizure by officials 22:66 Trial by Sanhedrin

6:12 Seizure by officials 6:11–12 Trial by Sanhedrin

26:59 False testimony sought

14:55 False testimony sought

6:11–12 False testimony sought

22  Pervo, Acts, 168. Regarding Acts 7:54–8:3 (p. 195), Pervo lists: (1) absence of a formal sentence (Luke 22:71 vs. Mark 14:64); (2) climactic Son of Man saying (Luke 23:69; Acts 7:56); (3) reference to garments (Luke 23:54 [sic v. 53]; Acts 7:58); (4) final words in a loud voice and a prayer (Luke 23:46; Acts 7:60); (5) prayer of forgiveness of enemies (Luke 23:34; Acts 7:60); and, (6) burial by ‘devout’ person(s) (Luke 23:50–53; Acts 8:2) 23 “The passion of Stephen has the same general structure as that of Jesus and succinctly illustrates the extent to which Luke drew on material from Mark that was omitted from the Gospel” (Pervo, Acts, 169). 24 So also: John T. Carroll and Joel B. Green, The Death of Jesus in Early Christianity (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1995), 60–81, esp. 80–81. 25  Both Mark and Matthew have the leftover pieces. If Luke did not write Acts, the author may have relied on Matthew.

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Matthew

Mark

Luke

26:60 False witnesses testify

14:55 False witnesses testify

6:13 False witnesses testify

26:61 Temple destruction threat

14:58 Temple destruction threat

6:14 Temple destruction threat

26:62–63 Answer demanded; met with silence

14:60 Answer demanded; met with silence

7:1 Answer demanded met with silence

26:63b Are you Christ?

14:61b 22:67 Are you the Christ? Are you the Christ?

26:64 [prophecy] Son of Man sitting

14:62 [prophecy] Son of Man sitting

26:65–66 High Priest tore robes

14:63 High Priest tore robes

26:65b Question regarding witnesses and blasphemy confirmed

14:63b Question regarding witnesses and blasphemy confirmed

26:66 Condemned to death

14:64 Condemned to death

22:69 [prophecy] Son of Man sitting

Acts

7:55–56 [vision] Son of Man standing 7:57–58 Crowd pounced and threw stones

22:71 Question regarding testimony and blasphemy confirmed

14:65 [22:63–65 26:67 Spit, struck, prophe- Spit, struck, prophe- Mocked, beaten, sy demanded sy demanded prophesy demanded] Luke 23:34 “Father, forgive them”26

7:59–60 “Jesus receive my spirit; forgive them”

Reduced to its core elements, Stephen’s arrest conforms closely to Markan elements that Luke omitted from Jesus’s passion. The next section aims to show that the converse is also true, namely that elements present in all three accounts (i. e., Mark, Luke, and Acts) are much less significant than the Markan parallels.27 26  Luke 23:34 is absent from an impressive array of witnesses: P75, B, D*, W, Θ, ita, d, syrs, copsa, bo mss al. Metzger assumes it was not an original part of the Gospel of Luke. See TCGNT, 154. NA28 retain double brackets from previous edition. Pervo is only moderately convinced by Metzger et al. providing convincing counterarguments (Acts, 199). 27  Fitzmyer makes his preference for the prayer clear: “The vision introduces Stephen’s prayer, ‘Lord, do not hold this against them,’ reminding the reader of the Lucan Jesus’ prayer,

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Pervo lists the following six shared elements between Stephen’s martyrdom and Luke’s gospel: (1) formal sentence; (2) Son of Man; (3) garments; (4) shouts; (5) prayer of forgiveness; and, (6) burial.28 1. Formal Sentence In Mark 14:64b (cf. Matt 26:66) the Council condemns Jesus to death. Luke omits Jesus’s official condemnation (see Luke 22:71). Likewise, Stephen receives no official sentence in Acts. On first glance, it appears that Luke and Acts share this omission, but in Luke this is only because Jesus’s hearing is not finished. The Council escorts him to be heard by Pilate (23:1) after which he goes before Herod, ultimately receiving his formal death sentence by (an unwilling) Pilate (23:24). In contrast, Stephen’s trial in Acts amounts to a procedural fiasco. Stephen is recklessly accused before he is allowed to speak. The accusations transfigure Stephen’s countenance into the face of a terrifying angel (τὸ πρόσωπον αὐτοῦ ὡσεὶ πρόσωπον ἀγγέλου, 6:15).29 Once he speaks, he delivers a speech that corroborates the false charges. The crowd is so enraged they rush forward and stone him to death. Thus, a closer look at the context substantially minimizes this similarity. 2. Son of Man Reference to the Son of Man is an important element that all four reports share. That said, the Synoptics have Jesus predict that “from now on the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the power of God” (Luke 22:69; cf. Mark 14:62; Matt 26:64), while Acts 7:56 refers to a vision of the Son of Man standing. Although Dan 7:13 is in the background of all four passages, the details of sitting and standing signify very different adaptations of the material.30 This difference has important thematic significance to be discussed below. preserved unfortunately only in some MSS, ‘Father, forgive them; they do not realize what they are doing’” (Acts of the Apostles, 390). 28  Pervo, Acts, 195. 29  Of the following commentators, Haenchen alone emphasizes the horror of Stephen’s transfigured face. The others stress literary parallels with later martyrs, the appearances of which often reflected serenity, God’s glory, and confidence. See Haenchen, Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary, 272; cf. Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles, 48; Barrett, Acts I–XIV, 329–330; Fitzmyer, Acts of the Apostles, 360; Pervo, Acts, 170; and, Holladay, Acts, 158–59. 30  Following the logic that the author of Acts seeks to depict Stephen’s martyrdom as different from Jesus’s, the reason that Jesus is standing may be to separate the two visions. Fitzmyer notes that Stephen sees Jesus standing (7:55) because he declared Jesus to be “the Upright One” (7:52). Fitzmyer lays out all of the many ways that Jesus’s posture (ἐκ δεξιῶν ἑστῶτα τοῦ θεοῦ) in Acts 7:56 has been interpreted. See Acts of the Apostles, 392–93. Fitzmyer also rightly notes that the “standing” Christ” suggests that he is “one who rises in judgment against Stephen’s own

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3. Garments Pervo lists “garments” as “parallel,” citing Luke 23:54 (sic v. 53).31 However, the only similarity between the accounts is the mere mention of clothing. In Acts, witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul; in the Synoptics, Joseph of Arimathea wraps Jesus’s dead body in a linen cloth (σινδών) for burial. 4. Shouts Shouting is parallel in the accounts. However, the report about Stephen’s loud voice (ἔκραξεν φωνῇ μεγάλῃ) (7:60) is closer in wording to the shout by the crowd in v. 57 (κράξαντες δὲ φωνῇ μεγάλῃ) than to Jesus’s “crying out with a loud voice” in Luke 23:46 (καὶ φωνήσας φωνῇ μεγάλῃ ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν) or his shouts in Mark or Matthew (καὶ τῇ ἐνάτῃ ὥρᾳ ἐβόησεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς φωνῇ μεγάλῃ, Mark 15:34; ἀνεβόησεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς φωνῇ μεγάλῃ λέγων, Matt 27:46), deemphasizing the point of the parallel with Luke. 5. Prayer of Forgiveness The authenticity of this verse is contested. Pervo neatly spells out the options: One must either suppose that an editor took note of Acts 7:60, decided that what was appropriate for Stephen was at least as appropriate of Jesus, and then composed Luke 23:34 on its basis, transforming Stephen’s prayer into more conventional language and, for good measure, adding the ignorance motif from Acts 3:17, or one must suspect that Luke 23:34 was deleted because of the authority behind it (Jesus) and because it was absent from the other Gospels.32

Acts frequently repeats the theme of pardonable ignorance (3:17; 7:60; 13:27; 17:30). Whether this idea appears in Luke remains doubtful. 6. Burial Burial is parallel in all accounts; however, descriptions of the buriers vary. Luke refers to Joseph of Arimathea as “good” and “righteous” (ἀνὴρ ἀγαθὸς καὶ δίκαιος, Luke 23:50). In Mark 15:43, Joseph is “noble” or “respectable” (εὐσχήμων) and people, as Isa 3:13 may imply” (ibid., 392). See also Hans Conzelmann, Acts, 60; Rudolf Pesch, Die Vision des Stephanus: Apg 7,55–56 im Rahmen der Apostelgeschichte, SBS 12 (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1966), 38, 53; and, Alfons Weiser, Die Apostelgeschichte, 2 vols., ÖTK 5 (Würzburg: Echter, 1981–85), 1:194. 31  Pervo, Acts, 195. 32 Pervo, Acts, 199.

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in Matt 27:57, he is rich (ἄνθρωπος πλούσιος ἀπὸ Ἁριμαθαίας). In Acts 8:2, “devout men” (ἄνδρες εὐλαβεῖς) bury Stephen, making “loud lamentation over him.” 33 The adjective εὐλαβής is used of pious Jews in Jerusalem in both Luke and Acts, including Simeon (Luke 2:25), Jews living in Jerusalem (Acts 2:5), and Ananias (Acts 22:12).34 In addition to these overemphasized parallels enumerated by Pervo, I would point out that much is made of the similarity of Jesus’s and Stephen’s deaths, yet Jesus is crucified, whereas Stephen is stoned. As two distinctly different forms of execution, crucifixion is an almost exclusively Roman method – Rome’s most severe form of the death penalty,35 whereas Jewish law stipulates death by stoning.36 Moreover, Jesus “breathes his last” (ἐξέπνευσεν, Luke 23:46), whereas Stephen “falls asleep” (ἐκοιμήθη, Acts 7:60).37 In this case, contrast rather than parallel seems to be the point. Summation In almost every case, the parallels that Acts shares with both Mark and Luke are less significant than commentators would have us imagine. While one may aptly characterize Stephen’s trial as botched and his death as a lynching, one cannot say the same of Jesus’s trial and death in any gospel – least of all Luke’s.38 33  As Pervo points out, εὐλαβής occurs in Luke and Acts to refer to ethnic Jews: Luke 2:25 (Simeon); Acts 2:5 (those at Pentecost): 22:12 (Ananias)” (Acts, 201 n. 52). 34 In the NT, εὐλαβής (Luke 2:25; Acts 2:5; 22;12), εὐλάβεια (Heb 5:7; 12:28), and εὐλαβεῖσθαι (Heb 11:7 [Noah]) possess a distinctly Jewish religious orientation. See Rudolf Bultmann, “εὐλαβής, εὐλαβεῖσθαι, εὐλάβεια,” TDNT 2:751–54. 35 According to Jens-Wilhelm Taeger, “There is at least one instance of crucifixion imposed by the Jewish authorities (under Alexander Jannai: Josephus Ant. XIII 380ff; Bell. I 97; cf. 4QpNah 3–4, I, 7 f.)” (“III. The Crucifixion of Christ,” in: “Cross / ​Crucifixion,” RPP [consulted online on 12 January 2017 http://dx.doi.org / ​10.1163/1877–5888_rpp_COM_12299]). 36 Stoning is specified as the punishment for deception (Deut 13; m. Sanh. 7:10–11), blasphemy (Lev 24:16; m. Sanh. 7:5; cf. John 8:59; 10:31–33) and various other violations including apostasy (cf. Exod 19:13; 21:28; Lev 20:13, 27; 24:10–16; Num 15:32–36; Deut 13:7–12; 21:18–21; 22:13–21, 23–24, 25–27. (Martinus C. de Boer, “II. New Testament,” in: “Death Penalty,” RPP [consulted online on 12 January 2017 http://dx.doi.org / ​10.1163/1877–5888_ rpp_COM_025133]). Matthews understands stoning as a barbarous and un-Roman form of punishment (Perfect Martyr, 7–77). 37  Κοιμάομαι is a characteristically Pauline word for Christian death: 1 Thess 4:13, 14, 15; 1 Cor 7:39; 11:30; 15:6, 18, 20, 51; cf. Acts 7:60; 12:6; 13:36; Luke 22:45. 38 Fitzmyer discusses this question, asking “How could a lynch mob succeed in Jerusalem during Roman occupation? Or how could there have been an official trial ending with capital punishment under Roman authorities?” (Acts of the Apostles, 390–91). Perhaps the account is related to the Lukan Paul’s claim that when Christians were sentenced to death, he “cast his vote against them” (Acts 26:10). Mention of the Sanhedrin in 6:12 gives the account an official air but the rest resembles mob action. Haenchen refers to the account with the oxymoronic expression “lynch-justice” (Acts, 296).

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IV. Interpretation The witnesses at Stephen’s trial in Acts are characterized as perjurers (ψευδεῖς, 6:13). If we follow Pervo, it is because the readers will not hear a sample of Stephen’s preaching until the next chapter (7:2–53).39 Yet even with his preaching, Stephen is not exactly exonerated. Pervo spells out this difficulty: “But it [Stephen’s charge in Acts 6:13–14] produces some discomfort for many modern critical readers, who, in the light of the subsequent speech, are likely to find these accusations not wholly without substance.”40 This brings us back to the question of Haenchen’s “dangerous material.” What is the ultimate effect of applying Jesus’s “dangerous material” to Stephen and why would the author of Acts do so?41 In comparison with Mark and Matthew, Luke offers a “G-rated” version of Jesus’s arrest, trial, and death. Whether or not the Third Gospel was penned by the author of Acts the latter composes Stephen’s martyrdom to feature the Third Gospel’s leftovers, particularly in the arrest. Stephen’s martyrdom is, therefore, in its most important aspect not like Jesus’s death in Luke. In fact, it might be characterized as its countertype: it is a death by mob violence, which Stephen appears to have deliberately provoked.42 It is as if the writer of Acts is saying to 39 Pervo, Acts, 169.  The author of Acts expects basic knowledge of legal procedure among his readers. The Jews are not given the ‘out’ of prosecuting and condemning Stephen on a fair basis (i. e., on the basis of what Stephen will ultimately say). They start with trumped-up, false charges and these false charges result in Stephen’s death. We might imagine that Stephen sees (through the Spirit or some other revelatory source) what the ultimate outcome will be and chooses the means of his demise in order to inscribe it with meaning: Stephen’s murder entrenches the rejection of God by Israel (and vice-versa), and (as such) is not a martyrdom (whose purpose is testimony), but something more like a watershed event that inevitably summons the Gentile mission. By killing Stephen, the Jews effectively curse and condemn themselves. 40 Pervo, Acts, 169. He also notes that Craig C. Hill rejects this understanding (Hellenists and Hebrews: Reappraising Division Within the Earliest Church [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992], 56–58). Stephen’s speech is highly offensive so it is not difficult to see how he angered the crowd. Pervo writes: “… where, like the apostles, Stephen attacks members of the governing council for killing Jesus” (Pervo, Acts, 166). We note also that the second half of Stephen’s story (the stoning) begins with the statement that Stephen, “full of grace and power,” performs τέρατα καὶ σημεῖα μεγάλα in the midst of the people (6:8). Just before Jesus is arrested in Mark 13:22 (cf. Matt 24:24) signs and wonders are also mentioned. Jesus issues a warning to his disciples about them; he says that they indicate imposters: “False messiahs and false prophets will appear and produce signs and omens, to lead astray, if possible, the elect.” This verse does not appear in Luke. 41 Either the author of Acts foisted the less palatable parts of Jesus’s passion on Stephen accidentally or deliberately. If accidentally: the author had no other material or considered this material worth salvaging (perhaps implying that the Third Gospel was intended to replace Mark). If deliberately, the author was either correcting Mark (i. e., knew for a fact that these details belonged with Stephen’s, not Jesus’s passion) or wished to impugn Stephen’s reputation. Since most of Acts seems intentional and it is impossible to know whether Luke was correcting Mark, we are considering whether Acts sought to create a countertype martyr to Jesus. 42  Cf. Thomas L. Brodie, “The Accusing and Stoning of Naboth (1 Kgs 21:8–13) as One Component of the Stephen Text (Acts 6:9–14; 7:58a),” CBQ 45 (1983): 417–32. Rage coupled with grinding teeth (7:54) and shouting en masse (ὁμοθυμαδόν) has no NT parallels. Fitzmyer

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readers interested in Christian origins: if you heard about an uncivilized aborted trial resulting in a lynching, you are thinking of Stephen; this was not Jesus’s trial. As Matthews emphasizes, there is an anti-Ἰουδαῖοι disposition in Stephen’s story that coheres with the rest of Acts. According to Pervo, such a disposition reflects Pauline influence:43 Africa does not fall within his story of the mission (although he mentions persons from those places), whereas Cilicia is Paul’s province and Jews from Asia will bring about his ultimate arrest (21:27). Through this addition, the narrator introduces a hint of Paul’s presence into the story and identifies the enemies of Stephen with those of his hero, as well as portraying Stephen as victorious over a wide range of enemies. 44

While true that at the narrative level the enemies of Stephen (i. e., Jerusalem Jews) turn out to be the enemies of the author’s hero (i. e., Paul is arrested in the Temple by Jerusalem Jews in ch. 21), and while Stephen appears to be victorious over those enemies in his prediction of Paul’s ultimate victory, Stephen also belongs among the Jewish-Christian leadership – prominent opponents of Paul in his letters. 45 If the author of Acts knows and seeks to provide background for a corpus Paulinum as Pervo has also persuasively demonstrated, this includes the conflicts between Paul, Peter, James, and their respective partisans. Stephen might, thus, be regarded as Paul’s “enemy” insofar as he represents the very kind of Christianity Paul had trouble with later in his career. Stephen is not literally Paul’s enemy, but as a “Hellenist,”46 his identity as a Greek-speaking Jewish-Christian (contemporary, possibly even allied with Peter) in Jerusalem the dangerous city associates him generally with the anti-Pauline side. This explains why Stephen can assume Jesus’s dangerous mantle. Stephen’s martyrdom depicts Paul facilitating the death-by-mob-action of one of the (albeit more noble) founding figures of his dangerous Jerusalem opponents. Stephen’s association with Jerusalem Jewish-Christianity thereby justifies Paul’s career as persecutor (Acts 8:1a), explains his expulsion from the city (1 Thess 2:15), and rationalizes his transfer of the movement to Europe (Acts 16:6–10) and finally Rome.47 With Pervo, lists LXX parallels for this behavior, suggesting the author drops into a “Jerusalem” register for the portrayal of a stoning (Acts of the Apostles, 392–93). In 2 Cor 11:25, Paul says that he was stoned once – possibly by Jews, cf. v. 24. According to Acts 14:19, Paul was nearly stoned to death by Jews from Antioch and Iconium. 43 Matthews, Perfect Martyr, 58–59. 44  Pervo, Acts, 167. Note also 164 (cited above n. 9) where Pervo acknowledges that the model for Stephen’s death is not Peter. 45 Richard Pervo persuasively argues that Luke relies on a collection of Paul’s letters: Dating Acts: Between the Evangelists and the Apologists (Santa Rosa, CA: Polebridge, 2006). 46  Hellenists were presumably Jewish-Christians from the Diaspora whose native language was Greek and spoke little or no Aramaic. 47  This theme also explains a crucified Messiah or scandal of the cross, why Jerusalem is an inauspicious city for great prophetic movements, why Jerusalem Jews killed Jesus and chased Paul out, why Jews chased Paul around the Aegean basin, why Jews pose a danger to Paul,

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Stephen partly has himself to blame for his fate. He provoked a crowd of Jews in the dangerous city of Jerusalem with a highly antagonistic speech about tearing down the temple. They accused him and he replied by essentially reversing the charges on the accusers. Matthews argues that Stephen’s death is pro-Roman, and she is correct: the mob that violently stoned Stephen to death did the Romans a favor.48 It is also pro-Pauline: a leader from among the Jerusalem Jewish-Christians provokes his own demise. Acts alleges more than once that the people of Jerusalem killed Jesus (2:22–23, 36; 3:12–15a; 4:8b–10a; 5:30; 7:51–52; 10:39; 13:27–28).49 With Matthews, the message is clear: Jerusalem kills.50 For narrative and heuristic purposes alike, the author renders both the city and its inhabitants as metonymous with death. In Luke’s Gospel Pilate provides a taste of civility and protection in this dangerous place. He shields Jesus from mob violence although not enough to save his life. Even still, Jesus dies the dignified death of a Christian martyr. In contrast, nothing protects the city from itself in Acts: Stephen is ignobly stoned to death for provoking the stulti.51 Stephen’s death is not parallel to Jesus’s passion in Luke and the persecution in its wake (Acts 8:1–3) is not the blood of martyrs that results in the movement’s expansion.52 Stephen’s death and the subsequent persecution is one of the darkest episodes of church history during which the future of the movement was a serious concern. If authentic, his prayer of forgiveness (7:60), κύριε, μὴ στήσῃς αὐτοῖς ταύτην τὴν ἁμαρτίαν encompasses multiple culpabilities: the Jerusalem Jews for rejecting Jesus, Paul for his persecuting past, and the Jewish-Christians (Stephen himself) for opposing Paul. Stephen dies Jerusalem’s death. The vision of Jesus he sees during the vicious attack that steals his life is the Son of Man standing in judgment on both people and place.53

why Paul gives Jews opportunities to change course in every city he visits, and why Paul had to suffer for the gospel. 48 This recalls how in the Jewish War with Rome, the Romans initially moved in to fight. But once they saw that the Jews were killing each other, they left and waited for them to destroy themselves. By 69 CE they moved in to bring the disaster to a conclusion. Cf. Josephus, B. J. 6. Shaye J. D. Cohen, “Roman Domination: The Jewish Revolt and the Destruction of the Second Temple,” in Ancient Israel: From Abraham to the Roman Destruction of the Temple, ed. Hershel Shanks (Washington, DC: Biblical Archaeology Society, 1999), 265–72. 49 Matthews, Perfect Martyr, 58–59. Opposition to Stephen by the “synagogue” rather than priestly authorities (new in Acts, another of Pervo’s perspicacious observations, Acts, 164) flags popular – not just institutional – rejection of Jesus. 50 See n. 15 above. 51  Matthews, Perfect Martyr, 5. 52  Tertullian, Apol. 50. 53 See n. 30 (above).

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V. Conclusion In this essay I have argued that scholarship on Luke and Acts stresses similarities between the passions of Jesus and Stephen – an interpretation partly traceable to the longstanding assumption that one author wrote both works. Suspension of this assumption permits us to see how the author of Acts emphasizes materials from Mark not used for Stephen’s story, which in turn shows that Stephen’s death is not a retelling of Jesus’s passion. In addition, I propose that Stephen’s story not only advances an anti-Jewish, pro-Roman position, but also a pro-Pauline bias – including but not limited to the author’s desire to explain various data in Paul’s letters. The pro-Pauline bias is revealed in: (1) Stephen’s provocation of his own death by his offensive speech; and (2) the depiction of Jerusalem as a very dangerous place. Neither of these points depends on Stephen being identified with an anti-Pauline faction of Paul’s later career, yet his martyrdom marks the inception of Paul’s career as persecutor suggesting some relationship between the two events. I surmise that the persecuting Paul, defender of Jewish tradition, assists in the execution of Stephen, defender of Jewish-Christian tradition because the writer is familiar with the events of Paul’s life as portrayed in his letters (i. e., so-called Jerusalem Council, so-called Antioch Incident, arguments concerning circumcision and dietary laws in Galatians and elsewhere).54 Paul incited one of the worst crises in church history – a dispersion (8:1b) that was not an impetus to growth, but the obliteration of whatever gains were made in the expansion noted into 6:7. As if the facts cannot be bypassed,55 Acts absolves Paul by: (1) emphasizing the barbarity of Jerusalem and the unchecked zeal of its Council members; and, (2) shifting blame to the foolish early martyr who first incited him to act.56 I close with one additional observation. In an important article, François Bovon reflects on the fact that after Irenaeus ‘discovered’ Acts, Stephen exploded in popularity.57 Such an observation raises the question of why the first Christian 54 Exploration of literary scenarios such as this one in which the events of a single event (e. g., Stephen’s death) schematically allude to the “bigger picture” (e. g., Paul’s biography and the history of his involvement in the church) – which the author does not himself disclose – are a desideratum of scholarship on Acts. 55  Also distancing it from Lukan authorship, Acts assumes a published corpus Paulinum (pace Pervo, Dating Acts). 56 The depictions of James and Peter in Acts 15 cohere with Stephen’s portrayal as described in this essay insofar as they too attempt to absolve Paul of his regrettable past – in this case the disrespectful descriptions of Peter and James in Galatians 1–2. Both cases falls neatly into the generic classification of apologetic historiography (pace Greg Sterling). 57  Matthews, Perfect Martyr, 18; François Bovon, “Beyond the Book of Acts: Stephen, the First Christian Martyr, in Traditions Outside the New Testament Canon of Scripture,” PRSt 32 (2005): 93–107. Bovon describes burgeoning interest in Stephen’s martyrdom as follows: “Unlike today, the Hellenist Stephen aroused a great deal of curiosity in the minds of early Christian believers, and the literature produced about him during the late antique period is extensive. In addition to the Lukan narrative preserved in Acts 6–8, we can mention at least three different

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martyr (dying ca. 36 CE?) left no trace for more than a century. While it may be tempting to agree with those who have suggested that Stephen is a fictional character invented by the author of Acts as a tribute to Paul (i. e., etymology of his name, “crown”; see 1 Thess 2:19; Phil 4:1),58 it is also possible that the character was invented in response to the political-theological climate of the time during which he was ‘discovered.’ Martyrdom of Polycarp 4 narrates the story of Quintus, the Phrygian who compelled himself and others to turn themselves in to the Roman officials, but backed down once the beasts were in view. Insofar as Quintus invites persecution (and then cowardly backs out) he serves as a countertype to Polycarp who circumvented arrest until the very end when he bravely faced the pyre. The dangerous material in Mark creates a portrait of Stephen in Acts that resembles the Quintus episode. Whereas Jesus resisted his fate until he was betrayed at which time he courageously faced his fate, Stephen provokes his accusers and departs in a shameful manner. The meteoric rise of Stephen’s celebrity at the end of the second century includes, like Quintus, an anti-Montanist exhortation: do not rush to martyrdom. Never deliberately provoke your accusers.59 Insofar as Stephen represents a second-century, Pauline counter-example to Jesus, he is indeed the perfect martyr.

texts written in Greek: the martyrdom story (Passio); the story of the revelation of Stephen’s relics to Lucian, a priest in the little town of Caphar Gamala (Revelatio); and the story of the translation of Stephen’s relics from Jerusalem to Constantinople (Translatio). There are at least nine different recensions of the martyrdom and several different recensions of the Revelatio; the same can be said of the Translatio. To these numerous recensions one has to add the large number of translations of each text. The Greek Revelatio, for instance, exists in Syriac, Latin, Armenian, Georgian, Coptic, Ethiopie, Slavonic, and Gaelic” (93). 58 In 1 Thess 2:19 and Phil 4:1, στέφανος (“crown”) symbolizes heavenly glorification. The “crown” is συνεκδοχή for rewards associated with Christian death and resurrection. Eusebius notes this etymological significance in Hist. eccl. 2.1.1. The argument that I am implying is that the author of Acts chose this name and thus created Stephen to signify Paul’s ministry, or decided to construct this narrative in a manner that speaks to the etymology of his name, as opposed to transparently narrating what ‘actually’ happened – even allowing for the elaborations that Greco-Roman historians allowed for historical reporting. 59  This is not the only similarity between Mart. Pol. and Acts. Mart. Pol. 2:2 claims that martyrs endure torment with austerity because the Lord is “standing” (παρεστώς) alongside them. See Pervo, Acts, 197.

James and the Rejection of Apostolic Authority in the Gospel of Thomas Melissa Harl Sellew The disciples said to Jesus, “We know that you are going to leave us. Who will be our leader?” Jesus said to them, “No matter where you are, you are to go to James the Righteous, for whose sake heaven and earth came into being.” Thomas 12

Since the first publication of the Gospel of Thomas half a century ago, scholars have labored to map the curious and extravagant praise offered to James the Righteous in logion 12 onto the known or imagined grid of early Christianities. Most interpreters have connected the praise of James with some previous historical stage of a postulated “Thomas community” in which James is thought to have been a figure of honor and importance. The praise of James in Thomas 12 is also viewed by some as evidence for suggestions of one or more Jewish-Christian sources for earlier stages of the gospel, since the James pictured in many other texts served as the byword for a Jerusalem-centered, Torah-observant style of Christianity.1 In this essay, which I offer in honor of a scholar known for his fundamental studies of apostolic traditions in the literary context of the Roman Empire, as well as for his fine ear for sly humor and irony in ancient texts, I aim to redirect this line of interpretation. In my reading of Thomas, the praise offered James functions not as a remnant of a supposed earlier stage of a community that held the apostle of righteousness in special reverence as their leader, but instead as an ironic dismissal by Jesus of followers intent on what this gospel would consider an inadequate and misguided approach to piety focused on our material existence. The standard reading of Thomas 12 as straightforwardly literal, and thus of social-historical significance, results in part from a persistent tendency to interpret particular statements in Thomas largely in isolation from the writing as a whole. To claim an ironic interpretation of a text, as I do here, risks an easy dismissal if one does not pay sufficient attention to the authorial techniques and 1 Scholarship on the Gospel of Thomas continues to flourish. A valuable collection that illustrates the vitality and range of current work is Das Thomasevangelium: Entstehung – Rezeption – Theologie, ed. Jörg Frey, Enno Edzard Popkes, and Jens Schröter, BZNW 157 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2008).

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ideological perspective of the book overall. The literary character of the Gospel of Thomas puts a premium on close reading, alert to its use of paradox and contrast, misdirection, and deliberate mystification. These characteristic features are not mere accidental remnants left in the text by a chaotic or thoughtless editorial process, as is sometimes asserted, but lie at the very heart of the gospel’s message: to seek the meaning of its words so as to escape the living death around us.2 My argument has several parts. First, I discuss how James functions as a symbol for a style of Christian piety typically called “Jewish,” and how this function fits against the gospel’s well-documented attitude toward “Jewish-Christian” practices. Next I will consider the problematic of “leadership” in Thomas, since Jesus’ apparent praise of James comes in response to his disciples’ request for a leader when he has gone, literally, “someone to be great over us.” Third will be some observations about how this request exemplifies a general pattern of the incomprehension of the disciples, as well as Jesus’ style of response to their characteristic lack of understanding. Then I will comment on the specific content of the praise offered James in Thomas 12, namely, that “heaven and earth came into being” for his sake, and show that this “praise” is inappropriate and dubious from the perspective of the core values and worldview of the gospel. Next I will consider the dynamics of siblings (or potential siblings) of Jesus, such as James or Thomas himself, when they serve as special authorities or vehicles of revelation in various early Christian texts. Lastly, I will consider the exchange between the disciples and Jesus in Thomas 12 and 13 in light of the general themes of apostolic authority and the demand on the part of the gospel for its readers to construct a model of “masterless” discipleship. Questions of method will be put front and center throughout.

I. The Apostle James and Jewish Christianity The extravagant praise apparently offered to James the Righteous by Jesus has played a key role in attempts to trace the historical and religious setting or background of the gospel.3 More recently, however, Risto Uro has reconsidered the 2  Recent useful commentaries include those of Uwe-Karsten Plisch, Peter Pokorny, and Simon Gathercole. Plisch has many helpful observations about specific portions of the text, but still treats the text atomistically, denies that it has any “unified theology,” and views its composer in rather old-fashioned form-critical terms as merely a “compiler” of disparate traditions who “minimized his editorial manipulations of the material” (The Gospel of Thomas: Original Text with Commentary, trans. Gesine Schenke Robinson [Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2008], 17, 22–30, here: 25). Gathercole’s quite fine and comprehensive commentary is more nuanced and balanced in its assessments: The Gospel of Thomas: Introduction and Commentary, TENT 11 (Leiden: Brill, 2014). 3  Two influential examples are John Dominic Crossan, The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1991), 427–28, and Richard

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juxtaposed statements on apostolic authority in Thomas 12 and 13 in comparison with the same themes in the Gospel of Matthew. Uro rightly cautions against the usual tendency to connect the content of Thomas 12 to the development of “specific groups or traditions in early Christianity.”4 Instead, “we should take seriously the symbolic nature of these images and realize that their use may be motivated by several concerns, some of which may deal with the narrative logic, others with ideological or ‘church-political’ realities.”5 I agree with Uro that when working with Thomas we at times must supplement or even avoid a tradition-historical approach to consider the logia with greater attention to the deployment of the statements within the text and thus avoid “hypotheses … often built on a rather simplistic reading of Thomas’s religious symbolism and ethical teaching.”6 In many early Christian writings, whether canonical or extracanonical, James represents traditional, Torah‑ and Temple-centered Judeo-Christian piety.7 As early as Paul’s Letter to the Galatians, through Luke’s Acts of the Apostles and the Gospel of the Hebrews, again in such writings as the Second Apocalypse of James or the Church History of Eusebius, “James the brother of the Lord” stands as the stalwart emblem of a style of emergent Christian practice linked closely to Palestinian Jewish observance.8 But how do we analyze instances of ideological J. Bauckham, “James and the Jerusalem Church,” in The Book of Acts in Its Palestinian Setting (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 415–80. April D. DeConick has pressed this interpretation most tenaciously; among her many writings see e. g. “The Original Gospel of Thomas,” VC 56 (2002): 167–199, and Recovering the Original Gospel of Thomas: A History of the Gospel and Its Growth (London: T & T Clark, 2005), on this point e. g. 98. 4  Risto Uro, “‘Who Will Be Our Leader?’ Authority and Autonomy in the Gospel of Thomas,” in Ismo Dunderberg, Christopher Tuckett, and Kari Syreeni, eds., Fair Play: Diversity and Conflicts in Early Christianity: Essays in Honour of Heikki Räisänen, NovTSup 103 (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 457–85, here 458. This important essay is reprinted with slight revisions in Risto Uro, Thomas: Seeking the Historical Context of the Gospel of Thomas (London: T & T Clark, 2003), 80–105. 5  Uro, “Authority and Autonomy in Thomas,” 461; also idem, “The Social World of the Gospel of Thomas,” in Jon Ma. Asgeirsson, April D. DeConick, and Risto Uro, eds., Thomasine Traditions in Antiquity: The Social and Cultural World of the Gospel of Thomas, NHMS 59 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 19–38. 6 Uro, “Social World of Thomas,” 37. Uro goes on to say: “Those scholars who have moved toward literary-oriented reading strategies have focused on the text and the function of its readers. They are not so interested in reconstructing a hypothetical community or group that produced the gospel …” (37–38). 7 There is a very helpful survey of the figure of James in first‑ through fourth-century authors in Luke Timothy Johnson, James, AB 37A (New York: Doubleday, 1995), 92–108. Johnson is at pains to argue that within the New Testament material, especially Galatians and Acts, James functions not so much as a symbol of inflexible conservatism as rather a mediating figure between Paul and more stringently Torah observant followers of Jesus (95–97). 8  Paul, Gal 1:1–19; 2:1–14; cf. 1 Cor 15:7; Acts 12:17; 15:1–20; 21:17–26; Gos. Hebrews 7; Sec. Apoc. James 44.14; 59.22; 60.12; 61.14; Eusebius H. E. 1.23; cf. 2.3.3; 7:10; cf. also Josephus Ant. 20. 200. References to Jesus’ brother James in the New Testament gospels and the Protevangelium Jacobi have nothing tangible to offer about his attitudes about religious observance (Mark 6:3; Matt 13:35; cf. John 7:305 and Jude 1).

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symbolism so as to infer data of historical significance? How can we be confident that the image of James as proponent of conservative pious practice has any connection to actual people and groups, such as the presumed early tradents of the Thomas traditions? Luke Timothy Johnson puts it well when he says: Deciphering the diverse traditions about James in the Christian literature of the first few centuries is a more daunting task. The main reason is that, like other ‘founding figures,’ such as Peter and Paul, James was variously appropriated by diverse groups who fitted his figure to their own purposes. In these traditions, James is much more a fictional than a historical character. His presentation is shaped by the ideological standpoint of the tradents, as well as by the hagiographical instinct for pious elaboration.9

Of course analogous ideological tendencies are just as visible in the canonical material as in the extracanonical texts that Johnson labels “fictional” as opposed to the “historical” New Testament writings. The Gospel of Thomas plays a part for many who are interested in the canonical Epistle of James as helping to document this widespread characterization of “James of Jerusalem” as the symbol of authoritative righteousness.10 John Painter’s exhaustive study of Just James quite typically, but in this case also appropriately, cites Thomas 12 as evidence for James’s widespread reputation.11 Stephen Patterson says that “Paul’s relations with Jerusalem as described in Galatians seem to presuppose the system of authority laid down in Thom 12.”12 Specialists on James the brother of Jesus usually explain his appearance in Thomas via suggestions like Quispel’s of postulated Jewish-Christian gospel sources behind the text.13 But of course the problematics of “Jewish Christianity” as a construct and its sources are severe.14  9 Johnson, James, 99. Unfortunately Johnson has little to say about James in the Gospel of Thomas, since he chooses to interpret its perspective via association with the presumably later “Gnostic” texts also found at Nag Hammadi rather than with the concerns of emergent gospel literature. 10  So for example Hartin’s observation: “In the Gospel of Thomas the authority of James is acknowledged very strongly.” Patrick J. Hartin, James, SacPag 14 (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 2002), 20. 11 John Painter, Just James: The Brother of Jesus in History and Tradition (Charleston: University of South Carolina Press, 1997; 2nd ed. 2004), 160–163. 12 Stephen J. Patterson, The Gospel of Thomas and Jesus (Sonoma: Polebridge Press, 1993), 151 n. 122. 13  Gilles Quispel, “L’Évangile selon Thomas et les Clémentines,” VC 12 (1958): 181–96; “The Gospel of Thomas and the Gospel of the Hebrews,” NTS 12 (1966): 371–82; “The Discussion of Judaic Christianity,” VC 22 (1968): 181–93. His most loyal follower in the current discussion, to be sure with modifications, is DeConick, in such works as “The Original Gospel of Thomas.” There is a helpful survey of Quispel’s theories and their development in Francis T. Fallon and Ron Cameron, “The Gospel of Thomas: A Forschungsbericht and Analysis,” ANRW 2.25.6 (1986): 4195–4251 (4217f). 14  See especially the incisive discussion of Gathercole, Gospel of Thomas, 163–64, and the literature cited there. Petri Luomanen offers a helpful survey of the “Jewish-Christian” gospels hypothesis as it relates to Thomas in “‘Let Him Who Seeks Continue Seeking’: The Relationship between the Jewish-Christian Gospels and the Gospel of Thomas,” in Asgeirsson et al., Thomasine Traditions, 119–53.

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Here I merely emphasize James’s emblematic quality, so as to underline the part he plays in the context of Thomasine literature. Within the Gospel of Thomas, the sort of religiosity evoked by James is proposed by the disciples but rejected by Jesus firmly and repeatedly.15 Pious practices associated with Judaism are denigrated: not only are fasting, prayer, and charitable giving called into question as potentially hypocritical and arising from sinfulness (such as in Thomas 14 and 104), but also food laws (14) and even circumcision (53) are dismissed as irrelevant at best. James is of course the most potent symbol of an early “Christianity” focused on retaining just these markers of Jewish identity. Some scholars believe that the gospel and its community retained close ties to Palestinian Judaism. In some cases this view arises due to perceived “Jewish” characteristics in either the gospel or its presumed sources. April D. DeConick, for example, in her early book on Thomas and Jewish mysticism, states: “Logion 12 indicates that the Thomasites were tied closely to the law-abiding ‘Hebrews’ of the primitive Jerusalem organization of which James was the leader.”16 Nonetheless, DeConick recognizes the strong tension between the praise offered to James in Thomas 12 and the perspective on Jewish-Christian piety expressed in Thomas 53, at least (Jesus’ dismissal of the worth of circumcision).17 Some scholars, however, including these days especially DeConick, cope with this dissonance by positing an earlier historical stage of development in the past of the Thomasine community before the group left its origins within Palestinian or perhaps Syrian Judaism behind it.18 The retention of the praise of James in the gospel can then be explained, according to this approach, as a remnant, even if a rather meaningless survival, or what Antii Marjanen calls a “reflection of a historical development” in the juxtaposition of Thomas 12 and 13 (the dialogue about apostolic knowledge, with implications for many readers for potential leadership).19 As Gathercole puts the issue with his typical clarity: “It can hardly have escaped the reader’s notice that in GTh 12, James is commended as the authority, whereas in GTh 13 it is apparently Thomas.”20 Patterson interprets the 15  Melissa [Philip] Harl Sellew, “Pious Practice and Social Formation in the Gospel of ­Thomas,” Forum 10 (1994): 47–56; Antti Marjanen, “Thomas and Jewish Religious Practices,” in Risto Uro, ed., Thomas at the Crossroads: Essays on the Gospel of Thomas (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1998), 107–39. 16  DeConick, Seek to See Him: Ascent and Vision Mysticism in the Gospel of Thomas, VCSup 33 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 128. Subsequently DeConick has adopted a more self-consciously tradition-historical approach to Thomas and its compositional history; see further below. 17  DeConick, “The Origins of the Gospel of Thomas.” 18 For a critique see Gathercole, Gospel of Thomas, 26. 19  Marjanen, “Is the Gospel of Thomas Gnostic?” in Uro, ed., Thomas at the Crossroads, 107–39, here 199. Petr Pokorny’s approach is similar in his recent Commentary on the Gospel of Thomas: From Interpretations to the Interpreted (London: T & T Clark, 2009), 53. 20  Gathercole, Gospel of Thomas, 256; his excursus on this issue weighs the various interpretive possibilities (256–58). See also Antti Marjanen, “The Portrait of Jesus in the Gospel of Thomas,” in Asgeirsson et al., Thomasine Christianity, 209–19, here 215 f.

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praise of Jesus in Thomas 12, just before the apostolic competition of logion 13, in which Thomas emerges as the apparent winner, less historically than does DeConick, and more in terms of the composition history of the gospel: “the superfluity of Thom 13 over against the claims already made in Thom 12 suggests this secondary status for Thom 13 as well,” a section he connects in compositional terms with the incipit and conclusion of the gospel as we now have it in Coptic.21 Patterson’s attention to the literary devices of the gospel in this regard is salutary. What has been missing from treatments of Thomas 12 that presume its existence as a remnant of an earlier, Jewish-Christian stage in the history of the community, however, is adequate attention to the form-critical and especially the tradition-historical implications that would necessarily be involved. Patterson himself, to be fair, has drawn attention to the formal point of how Thomas 12.1 fits a pattern of twelve statements in the gospel introduced by a question posed by the disciples (Thomas 6; 12; 18; 20; 24; 37; 43; 51; 52; 53; 99; and 113),22 to which we could add five more where they proffer a challenge to Jesus (22; 91; 100, 104; and 114; cf. Mary’s question in 21); he appeals further to the form-critical point that the use of the command in 12.2 (go to James!) fits Bultmann’s category of legal demands employed in community formation.23 All that Patterson can extract, however, from this so-called legal instruction in terms of any practical Sitz im Leben, is an allusion to his postulated Thomasine itinerancy in the phrase ntatetnei mmau, translated in this case as “wherever you go,” with reference to Thomas 14.24 This effort to explain Thomas 12 within the context of rules for internal organization of the community is laudatory in its impulses, but ultimately unsatisfying; as Patterson himself says, “there is little in Thomas that provides for community organization or structure.”25 More fundamental from the standpoint of form criticism is that the clause demanding that the disciples go to James is difficult to fit into a specific life setting of the early followers of Jesus. When, and on what sort of specific occasions would this word of the Lord be quoted and actualized? Does Jesus really lay 21  Patterson, Thomas and Jesus, 117, followed by Thomas Zöckler, Jesu Lehren im Thomasevangelium, NHMS 47 (Leiden: Brill, 1999) 22–25. 22 Patterson, Thomas and Jesus, 130 n. 36; see also Zöckler, Jesu Lehren, 29–30. 23  Patterson, Thomas and Jesus, 126, citing Rudolf Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition (2nd ed. 1921; ET New York: Scribners, 1968) 138–61. 24 Patterson discusses challenges to his Thomasine itinerancy hypothesis (adopted from Gerd Theissen’s ‘Wanderradikalismus’) in his essay “The Gospel of Thomas and Christian Beginnings,” in Asgeirsson et al., Thomasine Traditions, 1–17, and nuances his position in view of the theoretical proposal of Richard Valantasis regarding Thomas and ascetical performances that was explicated after Patterson’s book was published (3–8); see esp. Valantasis, “Is the Gospel of Thomas Ascetical? Revisiting an Old Problem with a New Theory,” JECS 7 (1999): 55–81. 25 Patterson, Thomas and Jesus, 151. For a critical treatment of various attempts to conjure up a Thomasine community see Melissa [Philip] Harl Sellew, “Thomas Christianity: Scholars in Search of Community,” in Jan M. Bremmer, ed., The Apocryphal Acts of Thomas (Leuven: Peeters, 2001), 11–35; also Uro, “The Social World of Thomas,” 35–36.

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down a rule, via prophecy or another medium, that James should be the new Rabbi or Caliph of the emergent church? Plisch reads the question of Jesus’ imminent departure as a reflection of the disciples’ “pre-Easter” situation and then finds this (fictional?) historical note thematically puzzling: “the disciples seem to anticipate the passion of Jesus, which does not play any role elsewhere in the Gospel of Thomas.”26 The command is in fact not a legal pronouncement at all in terms of its content, as opposed to its syntax  – it does not do work like enjoining a specific attitude toward Sabbath observance, for example, or regulating specific treatment of wayward members of a congregation. In works that move beyond her initial interest in connecting Thomas with aspects of Jewish mystical practice, April DeConick has addressed the origin of Thomas 12 and its meaning for our gospel using a robust model of historical and literary development.27 In her significant and comprehensive work on the gospel’s compositional history, DeConick treats remarks like logion 12 as having direct historical significance as she attempts to unpack the developmental stages of what she terms its ‘agglutinative’ or ‘accretive’ text.28 Going further than her earlier, more thematic and history-of-religions approach to Thomas, DeConick has now applied and modified form-critical and tradition-historical methods to discover what she sees as several key stages in the growth of the gospel, starting from an original and generative ‘kernel’ of logia, while also showing awareness of questions of orality and performance in the transmission of early Christian literature. Despite this awareness, her work has a resolutely historicizing emphasis, with a sometimes startling willingness to read literature as a realistic script of actual events. In this case she states: “The initial Thomasine community looked to Jerusalem and the leadership of James. It was under the authority of the Jerusalem church. This connection with Jerusalem is explicitly delineated in L. 12.”29 26 Plisch, Gospel of Thomas, 61; cf. Pokorny, Commentary, 53: “The passion of Jesus is not mentioned, but it is presupposed here and in sayings 38, 55, 58, 68, and 69.” Plisch is more helpful when he comments that the phrase ntatetnei mmau in Gos. Thom. 12 can mean “wherever you have come from” instead of the common earlier translation “wherever you go” (ibid.), but then he also applies this insight to an historicizing reading of the text (the various hometowns of the disciples). 27  See esp. her Recovering the Original Gospel of Thomas (cited above, n. 3). 28 An early and influential discussion of this compositional model is R. McL. Wilson, “‘Thomas’ and the Growth of the Gospels,” HTR 43 (1960): 231–50. Wilfried Eisele has a critical summary of the “rolling corpus” or “Schneeballsystem” hypothesis in his book Welcher Thomas? Studien zur Text‑ und Überlieferungsgeschichte des Thomasevangeliums, WUNT 259 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 29–32; see also Gathercole, Gospel of Thomas, 24–34. 29  DeConick, Recovering Original Thomas, 94. Similarly in her commentary published the next year: “Jesus in L. 12 personally commissions James to lead them. … [T]he authority of James remains because Jesus commissioned him personally.” The Original Gospel of Thomas in Translation: With a Commentary and New English Translation of the Whole Gospel, LNTS 287 (London: T & T Clark, 2006), 82.

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DeConick identifies statements like Thomas 12 and 13 as early additions to her kernel text on various grounds; in particular, employing the formal analytic tool that Patterson already adopted, she notes that this small complex on leadership displays a question-and-answer format on issues of importance to the developing Thomasine church. But reaching beyond this specific literary analysis, she is confident that Thomas 12 can be taken at face value as having specific historical worth on the grounds that it references actual real-life events: “Based on the content of the logion, this addition to the original collection must have occurred before 62 C. E. when James died but not necessarily during the original formation of the Thomasine community. In fact, I am convinced that this saying actually accrued in the collection as the result of the community’s first crisis  – a significant threat to James’s authority must have occurred within the community.”30 I find this level of confidence to be misplaced. When we adopt a more cautious approach to employing form-critical categories to discover specific historical data, as opposed to illustrating social practices or ideological principles, we can recognize that Thomas 12 is not a legal or ecclesial demand but instead a literary creation of the gospel writer.

II. The Problem of “Leadership” in the Gospel of Thomas Recently some scholars have begun to notice the problematic nature of the disciples’ question and Jesus’ response in Thomas 12. When we pay closer attention to the literary and symbolic elements of the text as a whole, the relevant points come more sharply into focus.31 As Marjanen has argued in connection with logion 13, developing the insights of Richard Valantasis, in this gospel we encounter a “notion of a ‘masterless’ Christian identity associated with Thomas.”32 Leaders are thoroughly discounted elsewhere in the gospel. In Thomas 3 Jesus states that “those who lead you” will lead the disciples  – and presumably thus also the reader  – astray with regard to finding the Kingdom. In Thomas 13 the potential apostolic authorities Simon Peter and Matthew compete but fail to uncover Jesus’ identity. Thomas succeeds by his silence, but is rebuked in one regard: when he calls Jesus “master” or “teacher,” psah. “I am not your master,” insists Jesus, before anything else is said. Valantasis is surely correct when he emphasizes that “the question of leadership has always had an ironic component to 30 DeConick, Recovering Original Thomas, 94–95. Pokorny expresses a similar caution to DeConick’s historical interpretations: “[W]e have very little information about the history of the Thomas community and its social component” (Commentary, 21). 31 Eisele lists the collocation of Thomas 12 and 13 as a key example of how the arrangement of the gospel often juxtaposes statements that fit together rather poorly (“nicht so recht einander passen”) in Welcher Thomas, 9. 32 Marjanen, “Is Thomas Gnostic?” 120; also idem, “Portrait of Jesus in Thomas,” 216.

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it” in Thomas. He goes on to say, “Jesus’ … direction that [the disciples] should ‘go to’ James the Just points them in a direction of a recognized authority in the world, an orientation … disavowed in other sayings (Saying 3, for example).”33

III. Incomprehension of the Disciples in Thomas The inability of Matthew and Peter to identify Jesus correctly should come as no surprise. The disciples’ hapless request for a leader in Thomas 12, far from offering evidence of some previous historical stage in the gospel’s “community,” a time when the supposedly Jewish-Christian Thomasine believers would have honored and respected James or his authoritative position, is instead part of a thoroughgoing pattern of the disciples’ clueless and doggedly inattentive character within the (largely implicit) narrative unfolding of the gospel. The confusion and misunderstanding of the disciples is one of the subsidiary themes of the gospel narrative. Beginning with Thomas 6, their first appearance in the story, and extending throughout the entire text, culminating in Peter’s reflexive misogyny in Thomas 114, those labeled “students” (mmathetes) in this gospel just don’t understand (Thomas 6; 13; 18; 24; 37; 43; 51; 52; 91; 99; 104; 113; 114).34 The odd presentation of Jesus’ speech and his mystified interlocutors has some formal similarities but differs in literary and theological function from the apocalyptic wariness of Mark’s “hidden messiah” or the misdirection and Socratic wordplay of John’s divine word made flesh.35 In the Gospel of Thomas the confusion of Jesus’ audience is thematized more rhetorically. As Uro says, “Thomas elaborates the traditional theme of incomprehension in several sayings in which the disciples’ (or the audience’s) failure has an important rhetorical function in contrasting the human situation to Jesus’ divine revelation.”36 For modern readers to take Jesus’ reply to his disciples’ anxious request for a “leader when you are gone” at face value is not too surprising. As I have observed, all too often the content of Thomas is still ransacked and atomized for purposes leading away from the central meaning of the text, with even peculiar statements like this one interpreted with little regard for the gospel’s ideological or even its  Richard Valantasis, The Gospel of Thomas (London / ​New York: Routledge, 1995), 73. recently Uro has also recognized this aspect of the character of the Thomasine disciples (“Authority and Autonomy,” 469 = Uro, Thomas, 90–91). 35  William Wrede, The Messianic Secret, trans. J. C. G. Greig (Cambridge: James Clarke, 1971) is still useful on both Mark and John. Amongst a vast literature see Joel Marcus, The Mystery of the Kingdom of God, SBLDS 90 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986); Heikki Räisänen, The ‘Messianic Secret’ in Mark’s Gospel (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1990); Norman R. Petersen, The Gospel of John and the Sociology of Light: Language and Characterization in the Fourth Gospel (Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, 1993). 36  Uro, “Authority and Autonomy,” 459 (= Uro, Thomas, 90), with reference to many of the same statements. 33

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literary context.37 At a fundamental level what is at stake is the modern reader’s openness to the possibility that this ancient author was capable of literary devices like characterization and irony, reaching beyond the techniques of wordplay and catchword that all scholars acknowledge to be fundamental to the gospel’s structure. A less generous view of the literary accomplishment of the author in the face of the text’s repetitions and other inconcinnities has led many scholars to regard the author of Thomas as “simply not a skilled writer,” who may have been “moderately educated” but exhibits “little literary sophistication.”38 And yet the Gospel of Mark offers an interesting counter example of a text that lacks most literary pretensions but nonetheless exhibits a powerful narrative voice that deploys many literary devices, including both situational and narrative irony. And there is no necessary connection between a higher literary tone and ideological depth, as the Gospel of John famously illustrates; scholars indeed find several thematic aspects of Thomas to reflect the popular Stoic ethics and widespread Platonic ontological ideas so prevalent in early Christian times and seen in other writers like Paul, John, or Justin Martyr.39 According to Risto Uro, “Adopting a literary critical or reader-oriented approach to the Gospel of Thomas does not mean that the critic is simply asking different kinds of questions than the one who is doing traditional historical criticism. … Many of Thomas’ symbols and parables are open-ended and it is natural to assume that people debated about their interpretations as they do now.”40 What more can reading Thomas 12 tell us when we allow the possibility that the composer of the text deploys an author’s voice and control over his product?

IV. Heaven and Earth Came into Being for His Sake? We read in Thomas 12 that “heaven and earth came into being” for James’s sake. Note the use of the emphatic second (focalizing) tense: it was done for him. Though scholars working on the figure of James elsewhere in early Christianity still use this statement as evidence that “in the Gospel of Thomas the authority of 37  For further discussion of the need for greater attention to the literary character of Thomas see already Melissa [Philip] Harl Sellew, “The Gospel of Thomas: Prospects for Future Research,” in John D. Turner & Anne McGuire, eds., The Nag Hammadi Library after Fifty Years, NHMS 44 (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 327–46, echoed by Uro, “Social World of Thomas,” 37. 38  So Gathercole (joining many others) in Gospel of Thomas, 28, quoting in this instance William E. Arnal, “The Rhetoric of Marginality: Apocalypticism, Gnosticism, and Sayings Gospels,” HTR 88 (1995): 471–94. Valantasis accords much more respect to the literary capabilities of Thomas’s author in his commentary. 39 For Stoic and Platonizing values or concepts operative in Thomas see e. g. Uro, “Social World of Thomas,” 32–34, and Asgeirsson, “Conflicting Epic Worlds,” in Thomasine Traditions, 155–74, esp. 158 f. 40 Uro, “Social World of Thomas,” 36.

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James is acknowledged very strongly,”41 specialists in the gospel betray growing unease with this effusive praise. For one thing, one of the most insistent themes of Thomas is its strongly negative view of the world.42 Marjanen bumps up against Thomas 12 when he discusses what he sees as the gospel’s positive view of creation and the world as part of his otherwise thoroughly persuasive critique of a “Gnostic” construal of the text. Despite his acknowledgement of the repeated and emphatic disparagement of this world as a place of darkness and death, indeed a corpse, as in Thomas 56, 80, and 111, Marjanen follows the conventional tack in interpreting Jesus’ remark in Thomas 12 as non-ironic and unambiguous praise. The supposed honor being demanded for James overwhelms all the other evidence of the text to show that Thomas must have a positive view of the world: why else would Jesus explain its very existence as a divine honor for him? In fact Marjanen calls an ironic reading of Thomas 12 “hardly possible.” I would propose that Jesus’ so-called praise of James is instead an indictment. Our world is not a place to boast about in this gospel. Just before this attribution of the very existence of the cosmos to the righteousness of James comes the avowal in Thomas 11 that “this heaven will pass away, and the one above it will pass away.” As Uro has pointed out, this statement is picked up and reemphasized late in the gospel, at Thomas 111.43 Those who have come to know the world in its true character are superior to the world and will escape its clutches  – symbolized by flesh, matter and the whole process of life (coming into being) and death  – when they return to their true home in the presence of the Father of Light (Thomas 11; 27; 50; 56; 80; 111). As several scholars have noticed, expressions like “for whose sake heaven and earth came into being” have a particular setting within Jewish literature as praise of righteous figures of the Israelite past, such as Abraham the patriarch, Moses the prophet, Aaron the priest, or David the king.44 Yet for the Jesus of Thomas 52, indeed just before he disparages circumcision as contrary to nature (Thomas 53), those who use the prophets and sacred authors of Israel to explain him and his role “disregard the living one and speak of the dead.” In Thomas’s value system, coming into being is in and of itself not a good thing,45 let alone the coming into being of our world of darkness, ignorance and spiritual death.  Hartin, James, 20. this theme see especially Melissa [Philip] Harl Sellew, “Death, the Body and the World in the Gospel of Thomas,” StPat 33 (1997): 530–35; eadem, “Jesus and the Voice from Beyond the Grave: Thomas 42 in the Context of Funerary Epigraphy,” in Asgeirsson et al., Thomasine Traditions, 39–73. 43  Uro, “Authority and Autonomy,” 464 (= Uro, Thomas, 86). 44  For discussion see e. g. Painter, Just James, 163; Marjanen, “Is Thomas Gnostic?” 199; Uro, “Authority and Autonomy,” 464 (= Uro, Thomas, 86); Plisch, Gospel of Thomas, 62; DeConick has a particularly rich discussion in her Original Thomas Commentary, 80–81. 45  To this extent at least the Gospel of Thomas shares in the generally Platonizing worldview so widespread in the Roman imperial period; for a fascinating treatment see Patterson, “Jesus 41

42 On

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V. James and Thomas as Rival Brothers of Jesus? In subsequent literature associated with this apostle, namely the Book of Thomas (the Contender) and the Acts of Thomas, the mysterious identity of Thomas as a brother of Jesus  – indeed his twin and seeming avatar  – is given direct expression.46 But this is only one instance of what seems to become a competition of sorts waged between various literary characters to emerge as the closest disciple of Jesus, the one most qualified to vouchsafe his meaning. In addition to the contest of Matthew, Simon Peter, and Thomas in Thomas 13, we have (for example) the famous rivalry of Peter, Thomas, and the unnamed Beloved Disciple in the Gospel of John,47 the attempted dismissal of Mary by Peter at Thomas 114, or their confrontation in the Gospel of Mary 10, the rivalry between Peter and ‘Simon’ in the Pseudoclementines, or the animosities expressed in the Gospel of Judas. It is interesting to consider the possibility whether in the Gospel of Thomas there is already an implicit sibling rivalry at work in the statements Jesus makes about first James (12) and then Thomas (13; cf. 108). This seems at least to be the understanding of later Thomasine literature that depends on this gospel.48 At the opening of the Book of Thomas Jesus calls upon Thomas to recognize the implications of his true identity: The savior said, “Brother Thomas, while you have time in the world, listen to me, and I will reveal to you the things you have pondered in your mind. Since it has been said that you are my twin and my only true companion, examine yourself and learn who you are, in what way you exist, and how you will come to be. Since you will be called my brother, it is not fitting that you be ignorant about yourself.”49

Thomas is thus the paradigm of Christian redemption via knowledge of who one is, how one exists, and how or where one will come to be. In the Acts of Thomas, Judas Thomas is addressed by the prophetic colt of an ass as “Twin brother of Christ, apostle of the Most High, and fellow-initiate into the hidden word of Christ who receives his hidden sayings.”50 Meets Plato: The Theology of the Gospel of Thomas,” in Frey et al., Das Thomasevangelium, 181–205. 46  There are useful summaries of this topic and previous literature in Helmut Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels: Their History and Development (Philadelphia: Trinity Press International, 1990), 78–80; Uro, Thomas, 8–24; and Plisch, Gospel of Thomas, 17–19. 47  On this topic see esp. Ismo Dunderberg, The Beloved Disciple in Conflict? Revisiting the Gospels of John and Thomas (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). 48 For discussion of the connections between ‘Thomasine’ texts see esp. Paul-Hubert Poirier, “Évangile de Thomas, Actes de Thomas, Livre de Thomas,” Apocrypha 7 (1996): 9–26, and “The Writings Ascribed to Thomas and the Thomas Tradition” in Turner and McGuire, Nag Hammadi Library after Fifty Years, 295‑ 307. 49  Translated by John D. Turner in NHLE, 201 = Thom. Cont., NHC II 7, 138.4–12. Uro offers a longer excerpt with discussion in Thomas, 12–15. 50 Acts Thom. 39, as translated in Plisch, Gospel of Thomas, 19.

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It is intriguing to note that James too can be put forward elsewhere in analogous ways as a guarantor of the Jesus tradition and pioneer of salvation, in terms reminiscent of Thomas 1 and 13 or the Book and Acts of Thomas. For example, in the (First) Apocalypse of James Jesus addresses James as his brother right at the start, though not in “material” or “physical” terms,51 and suggests that James can serve as a model for other Christians to assimilate to divinity: “(When you) throw off the blindness that is in your heart, and this very bond that is in the flesh, then you will attain to the One Who Is, and you will no longer be James, but someone who in every respect is in the One Who Is.”52

The rivalry between James and Thomas to be seen as the true brother of Jesus, even in spiritual terms alone, and thus as guarantor of his authentic teaching and even exemplar of the path to redemption, is however attested explicitly only in these later texts. Given the strong rejection of the master-student dependence found elsewhere in the Gospel of Thomas, to which I now turn, we should not insist that such a rivalry is implicit in the sarcasm of Thomas 12–13; but such a comparison would well have been activated in the minds of late antique readers of these competing texts with their varying proposals for construing proper apostolic authority.

VI. Rejection of Apostolic Authority in Thomas  – Masterless Discipleship According to the Gospel of Thomas, successful following of Jesus requires rejection of the traditional scholastic model of the hierarchical master-disciple relationship. Here Marjanen is exactly right when he observes regarding Thomas 13 that “the disciples, having come to a full realization of Jesus’ and their own real character, have no need of any master (see also logion 108).”53 But where Marjanen seems to go off track is in his insistence that Thomas 12 not be read or even 51 The Nag Hammadi version of the First Apocalypse of James begins this way: “It is the Lord who spoke with me: ‘See now the completion of my redemption. I have given you a sign of these things, James, my brother. For not without reason have I called you my brother, although you are not my brother materially.’” Translation is that of William R. Schoedel in NHLE, 262 = NHC V,3, 24.10–16. The newly published version found in the Tchacos Codex, 10–30, offers a different Coptic translation of the original, with mostly minor variations (Rudolphe Kasser and Gregor Wurst, eds., The Gospel of Judas together with the Letter of Peter to Philip, James, and a Book of Allogenes from Codex Tchacos: Critical Edition (Washington, D. C.: National Geographic Society, 2007), here 121. The Second Apocalypse of James has Mary explain that James is Jesus’ step-brother (NHC V 4, 50.11–23; NHLE, 271–72). 52 Tchacos Codex 13.19–14.2, trans. Marvin W. Meyer (Kasser and Wurst, Gospel of Judas, 127–29). 53  Marjanen, “Is Thomas Gnostic?” 119, and “Women Disciples in the Gospel of Thomas,” in Uro, Thomas at the Crossroads, 90–91.

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re-read in light of the diminution and rejection of apostolic authority effected in Thomas 13 and 108. He maintains that “the very fact that James is appointed by Jesus to be the leader of the disciples implies that his characterization … be seen in a positive light.”54 Why should we disagree with this claim? Marjanen himself and his colleagues in the Helsinki school show the way with their important conclusion that Thomas Christians “have no need of any master” through comparative analysis of Thomas 13, the competition among apostolic authorities to name Jesus’ identity, in light of the fascinating statement of Thomas 108, where Jesus says, “Whoever drinks from my mouth will become like me; I myself shall become that person, and the hidden things will be revealed to him.” This precise event has of course been narrated for us in Thomas 13. Jesus says to Thomas: “I am not your master, but because you have drunk, you have become intoxicated from my bubbling spring.” And then Jesus proceeds to whisper three hidden and potentially explosive secret words into Thomas’s ear. Yet none of this makes Thomas the new James, whereby as Marjanen and many others would have it, “James is superseded by Thomas as a spiritual authority.”55 Instead, as Ismo Dunderberg demonstrates in the context of his important discussion of the ideal figures of Thomas and the Beloved Disciple in John’s Gospel, “Thomas is … presented as a paradigmatic figure to the audience.”56 As Patterson says, “Thom 13 makes Thomas, in a sense, the prototypical Thomas Christian.”57 According to Dunderberg, “Thomas’ experience and insight with regard to Jesus are not unique in the sense that others could not achieve them. On the contrary, the audience of this gospel is encouraged [through Thomas 108] to seek a relationship to Jesus similar to that which Thomas has achieved.”58 As Uro phrases it, “Becoming one and the same person with Jesus logically means that there can no longer exist any master-disciple relationship.”59

54 Marjanen,

“Is Thomas Gnostic?” 119.  Marjanen, “Is Thomas Gnostic?” 119. Plisch notes (Thomas, 62): “It is striking that the strong emphasis on James (in Gos. Thom. 12) precedes the saying in Gos. Thom. 13 where the preeminence of Thomas, who gave this Gospel its name, is brought up.” 56  Ismo Dunderberg, “Thomas and the Beloved Disciple,” in Uro, Thomas at the Crossroads, 65–87, here: 77. See further his Beloved Disciple in Conflict. 57 Patterson, Thomas and Jesus, 206, quoted by Dunderberg, “Thomas and the Beloved Disciple,” 78. 58  Dunderberg, “Thomas and the Beloved Disciple,” 79. On the implications of Thomas 13 when read against 108 see also Eisele, Welcher Thomas, 66–68. 59  Uro, “Authority and Autonomy,” 472 (= Uro, Thomas, 93). DeConick seems to misconstrue Uro when she says that he has confused two issues, withdrawal from the world, which she also recognizes in the text, and criticism of leadership, which she does not (Original Thomas Commentary, 82). Marjanen adds helpful comments about the “egalitarian Christology” operative in Thomas with regards to the “process of salvation” in his essay “Portrait of Jesus in Thomas,” 214–17. 55

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VII. Conclusion If we were to maintain a traditional reading of the praise of James in Thomas 12, we would join much previous and current scholarship in conceding far too much to the abject passivity of the composer of the text as we have it, in absorbing and retaining traditions that he or she actually rejects, and we would mistake literary sequencing or juxtaposition as a chronological guide to external historical developments. Thomas 13 does not function as a rhetorically weak replacement of an earlier model of leadership found in the immediately preceding statement, with an alteration in management styles; instead logion 13 brings into sharp focus the remarkably effusive and ultimately ironic praise just offered a “leader” of Christianity, or more literally, “one who is great over us,” indeed one who is starkly at odds with the fundamental program of the text. The Jesus of the Gospel of Thomas is a teacher of a different sort: unresponsive to the questions of his students, at least at first, and less than clear when he does supply an answer. His technique with his thoroughly befuddled disciples is not the studied confusion of the apocalyptic Jesus in the Gospel of Mark, where riddling divides the saved from the lost. In Thomas he is more like the Socratic Jesus of the Gospel of John, using misdirection and confusion to tease his audience  – both the fictive audience of the text and especially of course the reader  – to tease them into active thought.60 But unlike the lengthy expositions of the Johannine Jesus, the Jesus of Thomas refuses to explain his words to his disciples. His sort of Socratic teaching employs much of that philosopher’s famous irony. Of course irony is lost on us if our eyes will not see and our ears will not hear. Unless we take most seriously the overall message and meaning of the Gospel of Thomas, we risk being lulled into a tin-eared reception of the praise of James offered with such sarcastic hyperbole in Thomas 12  – the very heavens and earth exist because of him! Really? Not very likely. According to the fictive Jesus of Thomas, those of his followers who remain so enmeshed in the material world  – thus whose soul and spirit, God forbid, rely on the poverty of the flesh (Thomas 29; 87; 112)  – that they should require traditional apostolic leadership, will find that sort of guidance from his somewhat stick-in-the-mud brother James “the Just.” For the rest of his audience, Jesus offers a journey of seeking and finding, of discovery, marvel, distress, and rest.61 60 Compare Uro’s helpful discussion of revelation dialogues in his comparison of the style of the Dialogue of the Savior (NHC III) and Thomas, e. g.: “For the modern reader, the answers of the Lord do not always directly answer the questions raised by the disciples” (Thomas, 35), referring further to Pheme Perkins, The Gnostic Dialogue: The Early Church and the Crisis of Gnosticism (New York: Paulist, 1980). My phrase “tease [the mind] into active thought” is of course an homage to C. H. Dodd’s famous construal of the effects of parables of Jesus in his classic work The Parables of the Kingdom (London: Nisbet, 1935; 2nd ed. New York, 1961). 61 An earlier version of this essay was presented to the Christian Apocrypha Section of the Society of Biblical Literature. I would like to thank the colleagues present for their receptive discussion of my proposals.

Joking and Play in the Acts of John Janet E. Spittler I. Introduction The following story is told by Herodotus of the Egyptian king Amasis in the Histories: The following was how [Amasis] scheduled his affairs: in the morning, until the hour when the marketplace filled, he readily conducted whatever business was brought to him; the rest of the day, he drank and made fun of his symposium-guests (κατέσκωπτε τοὺς συμπότας) and was idle and playful (μάταιός τε καὶ παιγνιήμων). But this displeased his friends, who admonished him thus: “Oh King, you do not conduct yourself well by indulging too much in vulgarity. You, a celebrated man, ought to conduct your business throughout the day, sitting on a celebrated throne; and thus the Egyptians would know that they are governed by a great man, and you would be better spoken of; as it is, what you do is by no means kingly.” But he answered them like this: “Men that have bows string them when they must use them, and unstring them when they have used them; were bows kept strung forever, they would break, and so could not be used when needed. Such, too, is the nature of man. Were one to be always at serious work and not permit oneself a bit of play, he would go mad or idiotic before he knew it (εἰ ἐθέλοι κατεσπουδάσθαι αἰεὶ μηδὲ ἐς παιγνίην τὸ μέρος ἑωυτὸν ἀνιέναι, λάθοι ἂν ἤτοι μανεὶς ἢ ὅ γε ἀπόπληκτος γενόμενος); I am well aware of that, and give each of the two its turn.” Such was his answer to his friends.1

This well-known and oft-repeated story2 nicely represents Greek attitudes towards joking and play: it reflects both a negative attitude (frequently associated with Plato) in the initial admonishment of Amasis’ friends and a positive attitude towards joking and play in the king’s answer. It also represents the complexi1 Herodotus,

Hist. 2.173; translation adapted from Godley. story is also told of the Scythian Anacharsis, with the difference that Anacharsis is rebuked while playing dice: ὁ αὐτὸς ἀστραγαλίζων καὶ ἐπιτιμηθείς, διότι παίζει, ἔφη· ὥσπερ τὰ 2 The

τόξα διὰ παντὸς τεταμένα ῥήσσεται, ἐπὰν δὲ ἀνεθῇ, εὔχρηστα γίνεται πρὸς τὰς ἐν τῷ βίῳ χρείας, οὕτω καὶ ὁ λογισμὸς ἐπὶ τῶν αὐτῶν μένων κάμνει (“[Anacharsis] himself, while playing dice and being

rebuked for playing, said: ‘Just as bows break when they are kept always bent, but, if they are released, remain serviceable for use in life, thus also reason, when it concentrates on the same things, wears out.’”) We find it told of Aesop, who is seen among a crowd of boys playing with nuts, in Phaedrus, Fab. 3.14. Yet another seemingly related story is told by Diogenes Laertius of Heraclitus (9.3), who, like Anacharsis, defends himself against criticism while playing dice, though without the bow analogy; this version is perhaps the closest to what we find in the Acts of John – and notably takes place within the temple of Artemis of Ephesus. For texts and discussion, see Jan F. Kindstrand, Anacharsis: The Legend and the Apophthegmata. Studia Graeca Upsaliensia 16 (Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, 1981), 109 and 129–130.

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ty of joking: it is frequently at the expense of others (evident here in the verb κατασκώπτω) and can easily lead to trouble, but it is ultimately necessary; without it, according to Amasis, we would all go mad. The same story is told by John Cassian (360–435 CE) in the Conferences, but now of the apostle John: It is said that the blessed John, while he was gently stroking a partridge with his hands suddenly saw a philosopher approaching him in the garb of a hunter, who was astonished that a man of so great fame and reputation should demean himself to such paltry and trivial amusements (ad tam parva et humilis se oblectamenta submitteret), and said: “Can you be that John, whose great and famous reputation attracted me also with the greatest desire for your acquaintance? Why then do you occupy yourself with such poor amusements?” To whom the blessed John: “What is it,” said he, “that you are carrying in your hand?” The other replied: “a bow.” “And why,” said he, “do you not always carry it everywhere bent?” To whom the other replied: “It would not do, for the force of its stiffness would be relaxed by its being continually bent, and it would be lessened and destroyed, and when the time came for it to send stouter arrows after some beast, its stiffness would be lost by the excessive and continuous strain, and it would be impossible for the more powerful bolts to be shot.” “And, my boy,” said the blessed John, “do not let this slight and short relaxation of my mind disturb you, since unless it sometimes relieves and relaxes the rigor of its purpose by some recreation, the spirit, slackened in strength / ​virtue by unending vigor, will not be able, when necessity demands it, implicitly to obey commands (nisi remissione quadam rigorem intentionis suae interdum relevet ac relaxet, inremisso vigore lentescens virtuti spiritus, cum necessitas poscit, obsecundare non poterit).”3

There are interesting differences in these two versions of the story,4 but the central point remains much the same: joking and play are not only acceptable, 3  John Cassian, Conf. 24.21; translation adapted from Gibson. Yet another version is told of the desert father Antony, (Apophthegmata patrum, Antony 13): Ἦν δέ τις κατὰ τὴν ἔρημον

θηρεύων ἄγρια ζῶα, καὶ εἶδε τὸν ἀββᾶν Ἀντώνιον χαριεντιζόμενον μετὰ τῶν ἀδελφῶν. Θέλων δὲ αὐτὸν πληροφορῆσαι ὁ γέρων, ὅτι χρὴ μίαν συγκαταβαίνειν τοῖς ἀδελφοῖς, λέγει αὐτῷ· Βάλε βέλος εἰς τὸ τόξον σου, καὶ τεῖνον· καὶ ἐποίησεν οὕτως. Λέγει αὐτῷ· Πάλιν τεῖνον· καὶ ἔτεινεν. Καὶ πάλιν φησί· Τεῖνον. Λέγει αὐτῷ ὁ θηρευτής· Ἐὰν ὑπὲρ τὸ μέτρον τείνω, κλᾶται τὸ τόξον. Λέγει αὐτῷ ὁ γέρων· Οὕτως καὶ εἰς τὸ ἔργον τοῦ Θεοῦ· ἐὰν πλεῖον τοῦ μέτρου τείνωμεν κατὰ τῶν ἀδελφῶν, ταχὺ προσρήσσουσι. Χρὴ οὖν μίαν μίαν συγκαταβαίνειν τοῖς ἀδελφοῖς. Ταῦτα ἀκούσας ὁ θηρευτὴς, κατενύγη, καὶ πολλὰ ὠφεληθεὶς παρὰ τοῦ γέροντος, ἀπῆλθε· καὶ οἱ ἀδελφοὶ στηριχθέντες ἀνεχώρησαν εἰς τὸν τόπον αὐτῶν. (“There was a

certain man, hunting wild animals in the desert, and he saw Abba Anthony joking around with the brothers. The old man, wishing to satisfy him fully that it is necessary sometimes to condescend to the brothers, says to him: ‘Take an arrow to your bow and stretch it.’ And so he did. He says to him: ‘Stretch another.” And he stretched. And again he says: “Stretch!” The hunter says to him: ‘If I stretch too much, the bow breaks.’ The old man says to him: ‘And likewise in the work of God. If we stretch the brothers too much, soon they will break. It is therefore necessary from time to time to condescend to the brothers. The hunter, having heard these things, was sorely struck, and having benefited much from the old man, departed. And the brothers, strengthened, departed to their place.”) 4 E. g. whereas Herodotus represents Amasis as making fun of friends at a drinking party, Cassian represents John as entertaining himself by playing with an animal; whereas Herodotus’ Amasis regards joking and play as necessary for not going mad, Cassian’s John regards it as necessary for maintaining vigor in other areas of life, particularly in obeying commands (obse-

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they are necessary elements of human life – particularly important for men (sic)5 of wisdom and influence. But how did this story come to be told of the apostle John? Why was it transferred to a Christian context, and how did John in particular become a paradigmatic figure, representing the necessity of play in the pursuit of (even the ascetic) Christian life? These questions are all the more perplexing, in as much as early Christians are not known for their jokes. In recent scholarly treatments of laughter in antiquity or in the history of religions (and there are several prominent good ones),6 it is the antigelastic leanings of early Christians that are emphasized: they are, with varying degrees of nuance and complexity, represented as the wet blankets of the ancient Mediterranean. To be sure, our patristic authors have their antigelastic moments. John Chrysostom, apparently the first Christian author to note that Jesus never laughs in the New Testament,7 is perhaps justifiably described as such, particularly in his fifteenth homily on Hebrews, where the rhetorical question “and you laugh?” is a biting refrain: Ποῦ τοῦ Χριστοῦ τοῦτο ἤκουσας ποιοῦντος; Οὐδαμοῦ, ἀλλὰ κατηφοῦντος μὲν πολλάκις … Καὶ γὰρ ὅτε τὴν Ἱερουσαλὴμ εἶδεν, ἐδάκρυσε, καὶ ὅτε τὸν προδότην ἐνενόησεν, ἐταράχθη, καὶ ὅτε τὸν Λάζαρον ἔμελλεν ἐγείρειν, ἔκλαυσε· σὺ δὲ γελᾷς; Εἰ ἐπὶ τοῖς ἑτέρων ἁμαρτήμασιν ὁ μὴ ἀλγῶν, κατηγορίας ἄξιος· ὁ ἐπὶ τοῖς αὑτοῦ ἀναλγήτως διακείμενος καὶ γελῶν, ποίας ἔσται συγγνώμης ἄξιος; Πένθους ὁ παρὼν καιρὸς καὶ θλίψεως, ὑπωπιασμοῦ καὶ δουλαγωγίας, ἀγώνων καὶ ἱδρώτων· σὺ δὲ γελᾷς; Οὐχ ὁρᾷς πῶς ἐπετιμήθη Σάῤῥα; οὐκ ἀκούεις τοῦ Χριστοῦ λέγοντος· Οὐαὶ οἱ γελῶντες, ὅτι κλαύσονται; Where do you hear Christ [laughing]? Nowhere, though he is frequently sad … For indeed when he saw Jerusalem, he cried; and when he contemplated the traitor, he was troubled; and when he was about to raise Lazarus, he wept – but you laugh? If the one not grieving over the sins of others is worthy of accusation, what about the one so callously disposed, even laughing, towards his own? Of what sort of accusation is he worthy? The present time is for mourning and affliction, for bruising and enslavement, for struggles

cundare). The contexts of the two stories also differ: in Herodotus, the story is – in part – used to characterize Amasis as an example of the philhellenic barbarian, who frequently acts contrary to expectation but is, in a sense, more Greek than the Greeks themselves; John Cassian tells the story to illustrate his own opinion that, contrary to some of his fellow monks, he regards the frequent interruption of visitors to the monastery as necessary and helpful to the pursuit of the monastic life. 5  I have not found similar examples featuring women. 6  See, in particular, Ingvild Sælid Gilhus, Laughing Gods, Weeping Virgins: Laughter in the History of Religion (London and New York: Routledge, 1997); Stephen Halliwell, Greek Laughter: A Study of Cultural Psychology from Homer to Early Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008); also very helpful, though explicitly leaving Christian sources out, is Mary Beard, Laughter in Ancient Rome: On Joking, Tickling and Cracking Up. Sather Classical Lectures 71 (Berkeley – Los Angeles – London: University of California Press, 2014). 7  See Irven M. Resnick, “‘Risus Monasticus’: Laughter and Medieval Monastic Culture,” Revue Bénédictine 97 (1987): 90–100.

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and sweating – but you laugh? Do you not see how Sarah was rebuked? Do you not hear Christ saying “woe to those who laugh, for they shall weep”?8

As even those who emphasize the antigelastic attitude of early Christianity concede, Chrysostom is not in fact entirely antigelastic, nor are Clement of Alexandria, Basil of Caesarea, or other patristic authors whose more dour statements are frequently cited in discussions of ancient joking and laughter.9 What’s more, in this case as in so many, a look beyond the homilies and treatises and into the narrative texts of early Christianity offers a broader and more complex view of the early Christian landscape. To be sure, others have attempted to find humor in Christian narrative – particularly in the gospels and acts.10 Some of these attempts have been  – to the present author, at least – rather persuasive. Bruce Longenecker, just to name one, has written an article on Luke’s version of the parable of the dinner as essentially a dirty joke told by Jesus.11 And, of course, Richard Pervo, who makes me laugh out loud more than any other scholar of early Christianity, has made a persuasive case for the presence of irony, burlesque, cleverness, and wit in the canonical Acts.12 A hurdle for these arguments is that one cannot really prove something is funny – or, much worse, prove that it was funny to audiences consuming the text some two thousand years ago. The following, then, is a case study in Christian humor. It is a close reading of four episodes in the Acts of John, in which  8 John

Chrysostom, Homilies on the Ep. to the Hebrews xv (PG 63, 122).  Halliwell notes, for example, that John Chrysostom’s Homilies on the Ep. to the Hebrews xv also includes the sentence: “Laughter is not bad in itself, but is bad (when it) is excessive or untimely” (οὐ κακὸν γέλως, ἀλλὰ κακὸν τὸ παρὰ μέτρον, τὸ ἄκαιρον) (PG 63, 122). 10  The following is a representative list of some of the more recent attempts: Kelly R. Iverson, “Incongruity, Humor, and Mark: Performance and the Use of Laughter in the Second Gospel (Mark 8:14–21),” New Testament Studies 59.1 (2013): 2–19; Marius J. Nel, “He who Laughs Last – Jesus and Laughter in the Synoptic and Gnostic Traditions,” HTS Teologiese Studies / ​ Theological Studies 70.1, Art. #2034, 8 pages. http://dx.doi.org / ​10.4102 / ​hts.v70i1.2034 (accessed on Nov. 30, 2016); and Joshua Ezra Burns, “Like Father, Like Son: An Example of Jewish Humor in the Gospel of John,” in Portraits of Jesus: Studies in Christology. WUNT 321 (ed. Susan E. Myers; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 27–43. Widening the scope beyond canonical literature, one might turn to Angela Standhartinger, “Humour in Joseph and Aseneth,” Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 23 (2015): 239–259; and Jared Ludlow, Abraham Meets Death: Narrative Humor in the Testament of Abraham. Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Supplement Series 41 (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002). Widening the scope one step further, to non-Christian narratives of the first centuries CE, we might consider Margaret Doody, “Comedy in Heliodoros’ Aithiopika,” in The Construction of the Real and the Ideal in the Ancient Novel. Ancient Narrative Supplementum 17 (ed. Michael Paschalis and Stelios Panayotakis; Groningen: Barkhuis, 2013), 105–126. A useful overview of the scholarly search for humor in the New Testament is provided by Terri Bednarz, Humor in the Gospels: A Sourcebook for the Study of Humor in the New Testament, 1863–2014, (Lanham, MD: Lexington, 2015). 11 See Bruce Longenecker, “A Humorous Jesus? Orality, Structure and Characterisation in Luke 14:15–24, and Beyond,” BI 16 (2008): 179–204. 12  Richard I. Pervo, Profit with Delight: The Literary Genre of the Acts of the Apostles (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987), 58–66.  9

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I attempt to skirt this obstacle by focusing on episodes in which the humor is internal to the narrative – episodes in which characters are explicitly described as joking and / ​or laughing. The question I must answer, then, is not Is this funny? but rather How is this funny? and, in conclusion, Why is this funny? or, more explicitly, What purpose does humor serve in this text?

II. Joking and Play in the Acts of John A. Lycomedes and the Portrait of John The outline of the episode13 involving the portrait of John is as follows: Lycomedes (whom, along with his wife, John raised from the dead in the previous episode) devises a plan for a painter to produce a portrait of the apostle. Perhaps anticipating the apostle’s objections,14 Lycomedes asks the painter to work on the portrait in secret, which he does over the course of two days. At the end of c. 26, Lycomedes is described as delighted by his own plan: while the painter secretly paints, he is “relishing” (or, perhaps better “feasting upon” or “enjoying”; the Greek is εὐωχούμενος) “the faith and knowledge of our God,” and “was overjoyed all the more that he was about to have him in portrait” (ἐπὶ πλεῖον δὲ ἠγαλλιάσατο ὅτι ἐν εἰκόνι ἤμελλεν αὐτὸν ἔχειν). When finished, the painter delivers the portrait to a “rejoicing” (χαίροντι) Lycomedes, who places it in his bedroom and decorates it with garlands.15 In c. 27, John, who notices Lycomedes’ (apparently frequent) disappearances, asks “what are you doing when you come from the bath into your bedroom alone? Am I not to pray with you and the rest of the brothers and sisters? Or are you hiding something from us?”16 The narrative then reports that the apostle, “while saying these things and joking with him, went into the bedroom” (ταῦτα λέγων καὶ παίζων μετ’ αὐτοῦ εἴσεισιν εἰς τὸν κοιτῶνα). With the explicit designation of these questions as “joking,” the reader perhaps pictures John chuckling as he enters the room, completely unprepared for what he finds there: the garlanded 13  This episode is extant in the R, Z and K manuscripts and the palimpsest H; chs. 27–28 are also recorded in the Acts of the second Council of Nicaea. See Junod and Kaestli, 361–365; see also Junod and Kaestli, L’Histoire des Actes Apocryphes des Apôtres du IIIe au IXe Siècle: Le Cas des Actes de Jean. Cahiers de la Revue de Théologie et de Philosophie 7 (Genève / ​Lausanne / ​ Neuchâtel 1982), 123–126. 14 The narrative does not provide a rationale for the secrecy; it is, in any case, necessary for the plot: the comic scene in which the apostle disbelieves that the portrait is of himself, not recognizing his own face, requires that the portrait have been painted without his knowledge. 15 There may be erotic overtones here. Note that the production and veneration of the image of a beloved is a theme in the ancient novel, e. g. Chariton’s Callirhoe 1.14.9–10, 2.11.1–3, 3.6.3, and 4.1.11. 16 Acts John 27.7–8.

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portrait of an old man (εἰκόνα περιεστεμμένην πρεσβύτου), with lamps placed beside it and altars in front. John’s response (“Lycomedes, what does this portrait mean to you? Which of your gods is depicted here? For I see you are still living like a pagan!”) no doubt surprises and amuses the reader, who knows the portrait is of John and, moreover, has gleaned from Lycomedes’ happiness upon receiving it that the likeness is good.17 John’s state of confusion – and the reader’s amusement  – is prolonged as Lycomedes replies first to John’s accusation of pagan behavior (“For me the only God is that one that raised me from death along with my spouse, but if indeed, after that God, one really ought to invoke our human benefactors as gods …”18) before revealing that the portrait is of John himself (“… you are the one depicted in the portrait”). The comedy continues in c. 28, but now John, who “had never before seen his own face” (μηδέποτε τὸ ἑαυτοῦ πρόσωπον θεασάμενος), thinks Lycomedes is the one being funny: “You’re joking with me, child! Is that what I look like? By your Lord, how are you going to persuade me that the portrait is like me?” (παίζεις με, τέκνον· τοιοῦτός εἰμι τῇ μορφῇ; τὸν κύριόν σου πῶς με πείθεις ὅτι μοι ἡ εἰκὼν ὁμοία ὑπάρχει;). Lycomedes, of course, does the obvious: he brings John a mirror. The narrative goes on: “After looking at himself in the mirror and having gazed intently at the portrait he said: ‘As the Lord Jesus Christ lives, the portrait is like me!’” (καὶ ἰδὼν ἑαυτὸν ἐν τῷ κατόπτρῳ καὶ ἀτενίσας τῇ εἰκόνι εἶπε· Ζῇ κύριος Ἰησοῦς Χριστός, ὁμοία μοι ἡ εἰκών). The patently humorous nature of the scene (with the aged apostle, in a state of disbelief, comparing his own reflection with the portrait – both equally unfamiliar to him) is heightened by his Septuagintal outburst Ζῇ κύριος, which has the comic flavor of the frequent exclamatory invocations of the gods in Roman comedy (e. g. edepol, “by Pollux” or hercle, “by Hercules”). And, indeed, Roman comedy offers a scene with comparable themes in Plautus’ Amphitruo, where the god Mercury impersonates the slave Sosia – leading 17 Note that the mistaking of a portrait of a human character for an icon of a god is also a theme familiar in the ancient novel; see, especially, Chariton’s Callirhoe 2.3.5–7, where Callirhoe is mistaken for Aphrodite, and 3.6.3, where her image has been set up beside Aphrodite’s within the temple. For a discussion of these and other related scenes from ancient fiction, see Froma Zeitlin, “Landscapes and Portraits: Signs of the Uncanny and Illusions of the Real,” in The Construction of the Real and the Ideal in the Ancient Novel. Ancient Narrative Supplementum 17 (ed. Michael Paschalis and Stelios Panayotakis; Groningen: Barkhuis, 2013), 61–88. 18 Minor variations in translation have rather significant effects on both the sense and tone of this statement. J. K. Elliott’s translation, for example, reads “if one is permitted next to God to call those gods who are our benefactors,” which, to my mind, suggests that Lycomedes is generating, and perhaps questioning, the notion that human benefactors might be called gods. In contrast, I understand Lycomedes to be referring, tongue in cheek, to John’s identification of his own portrait as that of a god. To cast Lycomedes’ statement much more colloquially, we might say something like “Sure, if you really think it’s okay to call yourself a god – because that portrait is you!” The irony of the statement is all the more clear if we read εἰ δέ γε καὶ (with the R and Z manuscripts); as Denniston writes, “there is often some tinge of repartee about δέ γε” (The Greek Particles, 2nd edition [Indianapolis / ​Cambridge: Hackett., 1950], 155).

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Sosia into existential doubt concerning his own identity. When confronted with Mercury, Sosia says “It’s true, by Pollux, that when I look at him, I recognize my own shape and what I look like (I often look in the mirror). He is exactly like me: he has the same hat and clothing; he is as like me as I am to myself … There is nothing more alike than this likeness. But when I think about it, I’m pretty sure that I am the same person I’ve always been.”19 Further (and nicely comparable to John’s question “by your Lord, how will you persuade me”) in line 399 we find “By god, you’ll never convince me that I am anyone but myself!”20 What follows in chs. 28 and 29 is, as Junod and Kaestli have shown, not the iconoclastic rant one might expect, but a discourse resembling neo-platonic discussions of portraiture, particularly the inability of material objects to represent the true self.21 As the episode proceeds, John takes issue – not with the fact of the portrait, nor with the particulars of Lycomedes’ behavior towards it – but with the accuracy of the depiction. Key to the present argument is that there is no trace of anger in John’s speech. While Lycomedes defends himself against the charge of worshipping pagan gods,22 it is important to note that at the time when he is expected to be praying with John and the other brethren he is alone in his room, venerating an image of the apostle in much the same way that images of pagan gods are venerated (that is, with garlands, lamps, and altars). Given the anti-idolatry polemic of the second and third centuries CE, we might expect John to be furious! Junod and Kaestli put it well: Devant cette démonstration de paganisme, comment l’apôtre se retient-il de briser le portrait, de renverser les autels, de rappeler que Dieu seul mérite d’être honoré et de condamner tout recours aux idoles? Quand on sait l’acharnement des écrivains chrétiens des IIe et IIIe siècles à contester toutes les formes de l’idolâtrie païenne, et spécialement les représentations matérielles des dieux, on demeure abasourdi par la réaction de l’apôtre … qui ne parvient pas à croire qu’il a bien la tête peinte sur le portrait et qui doit se regarder dans un miroir pour s’en assurer.23

Far from tearing the portrait and flinging the altars to the ground, in c. 29 John says “you become a good painter for me, Lycomedes” (γενοῦ δέ μοι σὺ ἀγαθὸς ζωγράφος, Λυκόμηδες) and describes Jesus as the painter who truly knows our shapes and forms and figures, etc. At the end of the episode, John’s final judg Plautus, Amphitruo, lns. 441–443, 446–447 (Trans. R. R. Caston). a discussion of this passage from Plautus, see R. R. Caston, “The Divided Self: Plautus and Terence on Identity and Impersonation,” in Plautine Trends: Studies in Plautine Comedy and its Reception (eds. Ioannis N. Perysinakis and Evangelos Karakasis; Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014), pp. 45–53. 21  Junod and Kaestli point specifically to Plotinus, Enneads 5.8.1, 33–40 and 6.3.15, 30–33 and to Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana 6.19. Note that Junod and Kaestli have also identified a very similar episode (in which disciples secretly enlist a painter to make a portrait of their master) described in Porphyry’s Life of Plotinus, 2.450–456. 22  The success of this defense depends in part on translation: see comment in note 18 above. 23 Junod and Kaestli, Acta Iohannis 2.449. 19

20 For

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ment on the portrait is quite mild: it is “childish and incomplete” (παιδιῶδες καὶ ἀτελές). Note that we have in παιδιῶδες (cognate with παίζω) a return to the

language of joking. Though here “childish” or “puerile” is, I think, the best translation, the adjective also carries the sense of “entertaining” or perhaps even “jokey.”24 In the last lines of the episode, then, the reader is reminded of the joking and comedy with which the episode began, but now with an appreciation of the ultimate seriousness of it all: John jokes, Lycomedes jokes, but understanding one’s own identity as Christian is serious business. B. John and the Bedbugs A similar effect is evident in the second clearly comic section of the Acts of John, the episode involving the bedbugs.25 The first person narrator26 explicitly designates the action of this episode as comic, introducing the story as follows: “During the first day, when we arrived at a certain deserted inn and not having a cot for the blessed John to rest, we witnessed a certain comic performance of his (παίγνιον αὐτοῦ ἕν τι εἴδομεν).”27 After his disciples have arranged a bed for him, the apostle attempts to rest but is annoyed by a great quantity of bedbugs (ὑπὸ κορίων παμπόλλων διωχλεῖτο)28; with increased annoyance, he calls out to the bugs: “I say to you, oh bedbugs, be reasonable, one and all, and, having left your home in this hour, be quiet in one place and keep away from the servants of God (Ὑμῖν

λέγω ὦ κόρεις, εὐγνωμονήσατε σὺν ἑνὶ πάντες, καὶ καταλιπόντες τὴν νύκτα ταύτην τὸν οἶκον ὑμῶν ἡσυχάσατε ἐν ἑνὶ τόπῳ, καὶ ἔστε πόρρω τῶν δούλων τοῦ θεοῦ).” As the first person narrator reports, the disciples laughed in response to this (ἡμῶν γελώντων)

and continued to talk amongst themselves as the apostle falls asleep. In the morning, the narrator is the first to wake and thus (along with Verus and Andronicus) the first to find the bedbugs, obediently gathered just outside the door of the house. When John wakes up, the disciples immediately tell them what they have 24  LSJ sv. παιδιῶδης. In his LCL translation of Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics 1150b, Rackham renders the term “addicted to entertainment.” 25 On this episode generally, see Junod and Kaestli 2.527–541; Eckhard Plümacher, “Paignion und Biberfabel,” Apocrypha 3 (1992): 69–109; Janet E. Spittler, Animals in the Apocryphal Acts. WUNT 247 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 96–110. 26 On first person narration in the Acts of John, see Julia Snyder, “Imitation of ‘We’ Passages in Acts? Canonical Influence and the Internal (First Person) Narrator of the Acts of John,” Early Christianity 64 (2015): 488–516. 27 This is the reading of the O manuscript (with Junod and Kaestli); R and Z do not include the τι; M has only παίγνιον εἴδομεν. All manuscripts include the key term παίγνιον. As to the meaning of the term – and the specific types of literature and performance to which it applies, see Plümacher, “Paignion und Biberfabel”; Junod and Kaestli, 2.539–540; cf. Halliwell, 511 n. 96, with further bibliography. 28  Here we read (with Junod and Kaestli) the O and M manuscripts; RZ has ὑπὸ τῶν κορίων διωχλεῖτο.

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seen; John then gets out of bed and looks for himself.29 Having seen the bugs, he then says: “Since you have been quite reasonable, having observed my command, go to your place.” The bedbugs respond by running back to the cot, crawling up its legs and into the springs. The episode concludes in c. 61 with John’s admonition: “This animal, having heard the voice of a man, remained still in itself and did not transgress; we, hearing the voice of God, disobey the commandments and are slothful. For how long? (τὸ μὲν ζῷον τοῦτο φωνὴν ἀνθρώπου ἀκοῦσαν ἔμεινεν ἐφ᾽ ἑαυτοῦ ἠρεμῆσαν καὶ μὴ παραβάν· ἡμεῖς δὲ φωνὴν θεοῦ ἀκούσοντες καὶ ἐντολῶν παρασκούομεν καὶ ῥᾳθυμοῦμεν· καὶ μέχρι πότε;)” That this episode is funny is made explicit by the narrator’s designation of it as a παίγνιον and by the reported laughter of the disciples in response to John’s command to the bedbugs. What exactly is funny about it has been the subject of contemporary scholarly debate,30 though we are more or less in agreement that there is both irony and a pun at work. The irony lies in the nature of the bedbugs contrasted with the nature of John’s command: in Greco-Roman literature (and, for that matter, in the mind of anyone familiar with this insect), bedbugs were famous above all as annoying creatures that prevent rest;31 to command the creatures famous for preventing rest to be at rest themselves (as John does here with the command ἡσυχάσατε) is highly ironic. Combined with the fact that John is speaking to animals as if they will understand and obey, this irony alone is perhaps sufficient to account for the disciples’ laughter.32 The pun involves 29  This moment – with the apostle going to “see for himself,” so to speak – perhaps evokes his response in c. 28, comparing his reflection and the portrait to confirm that he is really the one depicted. The H palimpsest continues with some 20 (unfortunately) illegible letters after John sees the bugs, but before he speaks to them. 30  See, for example, Junod and Kaestli, 2.527–541; Plümacher, op. cit.; Hans-Josef Klauck, Apokryphen Apostelakten: Eine Einführung (Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2005), 39–40 [ET: Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles: An Introduction (trans. Brian McNeil; Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2008), 25–26; Spittler, Animals, 96–110. 31 Their annoying nature and apparent uselessness were frequently cited in debates surrounding divine intent in creating animals; if all animals are created by God for humankind’s use (as, e. g., Stoics held), why were bedbugs created? “To wake us up” is Chrysippus’ response (according to Plutarch, Stoicorum Rep. 1044d-e). 32 Plümacher understands the irony slightly differently, placing the emphasis on John’s command that the bedbugs “be reasonable” (εὐγνωμονήσατε), or, as Plümacher translates it “sei klug”. For Plümacher, the irony is in expecting dumb animals to be clever. He writes: “Und eben daruber müssen die Jünger lachen: über die paradoxe Zumutung, annehmen zu sollen, Tiere – und noch dazu Wanzen! – kannten Einsicht zeigen oder Klugheit beweisen, ganz, als ob es sich um verständige Wesen – Menschen – handelte, als welche sie der Apostel aber sogar – Gipfel der Komik erzeugenden Paradoxie ! – expressis verbis anredet: als κόραι, Mädchen, so jedenfalls die Handschrift M.” Plümacher finds further irony in the comparison of the miracles performed by other apostles in other apocryphal acts (“Serien von Totenauferweckungen, Wunderheilungen u. ä. mehr”) with John’s rather paltry, trifling miracle: “Das Wunder enthält nichts Übernatürliches, keine höhere Macht greift ein; Johannes bringt die Wanzen lediglich dazu, etwas zu tun, was ganz im Bereich ihrer normalen Fähigkeiten liegt und was sie auch ohne Johannes hätten tun können: nämlich fortzukrabbeln.” As to the significance of the command ἡσυχάσατε,

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the term for κόρεις (“bedbugs”), which is a near homonym to κόραι (“girls”);33 in other words, when John commands the “bedbugs” to leave his bed, it sounds like he is commanding the “girls” to leave his bed! This pun itself is funny on multiple levels. On the one hand, John is – as the reader has learned in the episode concerning the portrait – an old man; to command the “girls” to leave his bed so that he can get some rest is perhaps to evoke the dirty old man (senex amans) of Roman comedy – an ironic contrast to John’s actual chaste lifestyle.34 On the other hand, the narrative reports in another section (the so-called “metastasis”) that the apostle was not always so chaste (or, at least, did not want to be): in c. 113 we read that John attempted to marry three times, each time being prevented by the Lord, who stopped at least one of the impending marriages by afflicting him with a bodily ailment. It is unclear whether the material in c. 113 is a rehearsal of episodes originally included, but not extant, in the Acts of John, or if this is new information presented in mini-flashback form.35 In either case – though particularly the former – it is possible that John was known to have struggled with chastity earlier in his life. Part of the humor of the pun, then, might be rooted in a reference to John’s own life and character.

Plümacher sees no irony, but instead the reason for the author / ​compiler of the Acts of John’s selection, Christianization, and inclusion of an otherwise largely inappropriate story (which, Plümacher believes, had its origins in Roman mime). In terms of the sources of comedic effect, my disagreement with Plümacher is one of emphasis, not substance. To my mind, Plümacher’s observations are quite valid, and contribute to the comedy. As Homer Simpson said of the man getting hit by the football, “it works on so many levels!” Cf. Junod and Kaestli’s discussion of the humor of the passage, 2.539–540. 33  There was apparently some confusion in antiquity concerning the correct plural of κόρις (“bedbug”): the scholiast on Aristophanes indicates the correct nominative singular and plural (κόρις, κόρεις), noting that it declines like ὄφις. The confusion is evident in our manuscript tradition, where O gives κόρεις, R and Z give κόριδες, and M gives κόραι – this last being a true homonym with “girls.” See Junod and Kaestli, 1.249 and 2.540 34 Or perhaps John here evokes something of the senex lepidus, the Plautine stock character who is neither the grumpy old man nor the dirty old man, but (as Erik Gunderson describes him) “the affable old fellow who remembers what it was to be young and who does not begrudge others their fun” (Laughing Awry: Plautus and Tragicomedy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 127). John’s sending away from his bed the “bedbugs / ​girls” does, in a way, remind one of the scene in Pseudolus (cited by Gunderson as a veritable definition of the senex lepidus), where Simo asks “So what’s new if a young man is in love and if he sets his girlfriend free?” to which Pseudolos offers the aside “a charming old man (lepidum senem)!” See Gunderson, 127, n. 34. 35  Indeed, the “flashback” is a feature of the Acts of John, which offers an extended flashback of John’s experiences with the living Jesus in chs. 87–102. Other, minor and thus more comparable flashbacks occur in c. 19 (in Lycomedes’ account of his vision), c. 63 (in the anonymous report of Andronicus shutting Drusiana up in a tomb), and c. 82 (in Drusiana’s account of Andronicus’ behavior). Pieter J. Lalleman, pointing in particular to chs. 19, 63 and 82 as comparisons, concludes that “it is unlikely that a scene about John’s decision to become celibate was part of the early AJ because, as it stands, c. 113 is a complete episode that tells its own story without looking back on any earlier episode” (The Acts of John: A Two-Stage Initiation into Johannine Gnosticism. Studies on the Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles 4 (Leuven: Peeters, 1998), 16.

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While there is general agreement that the episode concerning the obedient bedbugs is manifestly funny, this has been contrasted with the tenor of the rest of the text. Junod and Kaestli, for example, write: “L’image de l’apôtre qui se dégage de l’anecdote est plus familière que dans les autres épisodes.”36 Although pointing to this and other distinctive aspects of the episode, they do not regard it possible to isolate a source prior to the production of the text as a whole.37 For his part, Plümacher argues, against Junod and Kaestli, that the author of the Acts of John has taken over and Christianized the pre-existing anecdote from a piece of Roman mime.38 For the present purposes, it is important to note that Plümacher’s argument is based in large part on the funniness of the bedbug episode and the un-funniness (as he perceives it) of the rest of the text – particularly the closing admonition of c. 61 (which he thinks reveals the editorial efforts of the author of the whole). We have already seen the humor and jocularity of chs. 26–29, and the overarching argument of the present paper is, of course, that joy and jocularity are an important theme for the whole – not just isolated parts – of the Acts of John. But I would even go so far as to argue that the admonition of c. 61 is not necessarily a hastily applied wet blanket to an otherwise comical tale. John’s statement (“This animal, having heard the voice of a man, remained still in itself and did not transgress; we, hearing the voice of God, disobey the commandments and are slothful. For how long?”) simply highlights yet another layer of irony: that animal behavior can put the behavior of human beings to shame.39 Moreover, while the final question (“for how long?”) is, as Junod and Kaestli suggest, reminiscent of Jesus’ expression of frustration in Mark 9:19 (and the parallel in Matt 17:17), I see no reason for concluding that John’s exasperation is hopelessly out of step with the comedy that precedes it. As with the episode concerning the portrait, in this last line I see, rather, the underscoring of the serious lesson to be learned from a clearly comic event. It, at any rate, does not detract from the characterization of John as jocular, inasmuch as the exasperated old man is itself a comedic stereotype. C. John and the Partridge The story of John and the partridge is brief enough to quote in full: ἐν μιᾷ οὖν τῶν ἡμερῶν ὡς ἦν Ἰωάννης καθεζόμενος πέρδιξ διαπτᾶσα καὶ ἐλθοῦσα ἐκονίζετο ἔμπροσθεν αὐτοῦ. ὁ οὖν Ἰωάννης βλέπων αὐτὸ ἐθαύμαζεν. ἱερεὺς δέ τις ἐλθών, εἷς τῶν ἀκροατῶν ὤν, εἰσελθὼν πρὸς Ἰωάννην, εἶδεν τὴν πέρδικα κονιζομένην ἔμπροσθεν αὐτοῦ· καὶ σκανδαλισθεὶς ἐν ἐμαυτῷ [? ἑαυτῷ] ἔλεγεν· Ὁ τοιοῦτος καὶ τηλικοῦτος τέρπεται ἐπὶ πέρδικος κονιζομένης; Γνοὺς 36 Junod

and Kaestli, 2.528.  Ibid., 2.529. 38  See note 32, above. 39 See discussion in Spittler, Animals, 15–26, 105. 37

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δὲ ὁ Ἰωάννης τῷ πνεύματι τὴν ἐνθύμησιν αὐτοῦ εἶπεν πρὸς αὐτόν· Ἄμεινον ἦν καὶ σὲ τέκνον ὁρᾶν πέρδικα κονιζομένην καὶ μὴ εἰς αἰσχρὰς καὶ βεβήλους πράξεις μολύνεσθαι. ὁ γὰρ πάντων τὴν ἐπιστροφὴν καὶ τὴν μετάνοιαν ἀναμένων διὰ τοῦτο ἐνταῦθά σε ἤγαγεν· ἐπεὶ ἐγὼ πέρδικος κονιζομένης οὐ χρῄζω· ἡ γὰρ πέρδιξ ἡ σή ἐστιν ψυχή. Ταῦτα ἀκούσας ὁ πρεσβύτης καὶ ἰδὼν ὅτι οὐκ ἔλαθεν ἀλλὰ πάντα τὰ ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτοῦ εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὁ ἀπόστολος τοῦ Χριστοῦ, πεσὼν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν ἐβόα λέγων· Νῦν οἶδα ὅτι ὁ θεὸς οἰκεῖ ἐν σοὶ μακάριε Ἰωάννη· καὶ μακάριος ὅστις οὐκ ἐπείρασεν ἐν σοὶ τὸν θεὸν· ὁ γὰρ σὲ πειράζων τὸν ἀπείραστον πειράζει. Παρεκάλει δὲ αὐτὸν εὔχεσθαι ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ· καὶ κατηχήσας αὐτὸν καὶ δοὺς κανόνας ἀπέλυσεν εἰς τὸν οἶκον αὐτοῦ δοξάζων τὸν ἐπὶ πάντων θεόν. Now, on one of these days, as John was sitting down, a partridge, fluttering about, came and was rolling in the dust before him; John, watching it, was marveling. A certain priest, one of the ‘hearers,’ came and, having approached John, saw the partridge rolling in the dust before him and, scandalized, was saying to himself: ‘Such a man of so advanced an age is taking delight at a partridge rolling in the dust.’ But John, knowing with his spirit what the man was thinking, said to him: ‘It would be better for you, child, to look at the partridge rolling in the dust and not be defiled in shameful and profane deeds. For the one who awaits the conversion and repentance of all led you here on this account, since I have no need of a partridge rolling in the dust. The partridge, therefore, is your soul.’ The old man, having heard these things and having perceived that he did not escape notice but rather the apostle of Christ told him all the things in his heart, after falling on his face on the ground, began to shout, saying: ‘Now I know that God dwells in you, blessed John; and blessed is anyone who does not test God in you. For the one testing you tests the untestable.’ And he was urging him to pray on his behalf; and when [John] had instructed him and given him the rules, he dismissed him to his house, glorifying God.40

The various characteristics of the partridge, on which this short episode plays, have been laid out in detail elsewhere.41 Key for the present purposes are (1) the comedic reversal, whereby one old man scorns the behavior of another old man, only to be revealed as the one truly worthy of scorn, and (2) the depiction of John as a jocular type: an old man who wonders and delights at the behavior of a rather dirty bird.42 The former may be compared with scenes in Roman comedy in which a senex who should know better is given his comeuppance. As Segal puts it, “it is, of course, surefire comic material when an older and wiser paterfamilias is overthrown by the lowliest member of his familia, especially for the Romans, who, under ordinary circumstances, were renowned for their reverential attitude toward older persons.”43 Segal further notes that “Plautus constantly emphasizes the stature of the senex-victim,” which serves to heighten the audience’s pleasure when he receives his just desserts.44 Something similar is likely at play in our episode’s description of the old man as “a certain priest, one of the ‘hearers.’” 40 Acts

of John 56–57. Translation slightly adapted from Spittler, Animals, 116–117.  See Spittler, Animals, 116–124, with other sources cited in the footnotes. 42  Ibid.; according to Athenaeus, the partridge “is employed symbolically for lust” (Deipn. 9.389a). 43  Erich Segal, Roman Laughter: The Comedy of Plautus (2nd ed.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), 119. 44 Ibid., 121. 41

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The latter is, to my mind, very much in line with the characterization of John in the bedbug episode: he finds meaning and humor in the behavior of animals. The partridge episode is preserved only in Paris. gr. 1468;45 it was included by Bonnet as chs. 56–57 (though with reservation), but Junod and Kaestli conclude that it was not part of the original Acts of John, based on evidence both textual and internal to the episode itself.46 I am not completely convinced one way or the other: on the one hand, Junod and Kaestli’s arguments as to the difficulty of placing the episode within the over-arching sweep of the narrative as preserved in manuscripts RZ is strong; on the other hand, their difficulty in reconciling the “mise en scène” of the episode with other episodes in the early Acts of John seems to me rather exaggerated.47 I would, then, leave open the possibility that the partridge episode belongs to an original or early version of the text.48 If it did not belong to the early text, then I would place it among other Johannine traditions that develop the notion of a joyful, jocular John and regard it as evidence of the enduring nature of that characterization. D. Joyful, Jocular Jesus We have seen John joke, we have seen Lycomedes joke; now we will see Jesus himself joke. In chs. 87–105, we find an extended “flashback,” in which the apostle describes his experiences with the living Jesus, prior to and during his crucifixion. In c. 88 we are introduced (for the first time in this text) to the notion of the “polymorphy” of Jesus, that is, his capacity and general tendency both to appear simultaneously in different forms to different individuals and to take different forms at different times to single individuals.49 John, here narrating his 45  On the contents of this manuscript and the details concerning the immediate context of this episode, see Junod and Kaestli 1.145–148. 46 See Junod and Kaestli 1.145–156. 47 They write: “Toutefois, l’élément le plus insolite réside dans la mise en scène de l’épisode. Dans les AJ, l’intervention de l’apôtre est provoquée par une situation particulière. Ici, c’est l’apôtre qui crée la situation en regardant la perdix, et c’est son comportement qui va déclencher une réaction de la part d’un témoin” (1.152). But the staging (and indeed the comic tone) is much the same in the episode involving the bedbugs. The specific connections, moreover, between this episode and others in the Acts of John are perhaps a bit stronger than Junod and Kaestli allow. The occurrence of the phrase “test the untestable” (πειράζειν τὸν ἀπείραστον) in both the partridge episode and Acts of John 90.22 (see below), for example, seems to me rather significant – even given that the phrase also occurs in the Acts of John by Prochorus. 48 This tack is taken also by Lalleman, The Acts of John, 13. 49  On the polymorphy of Jesus, see, for example, Eric Junod, “Polymorphie du Dieu Sauveur” in Gnosticisme et monde hellénistique. Publications de l’Institut orientaliste de Louvain, 27 (ed. Julien Ries; Louvain-la-Neuve: Université catholique de Louvain, Institut orientaliste, 1982), 38–46; Pieter J. Lalleman, “Polymorphy of Christ,” in The Apocryphal Acts of John (ed. Jan N. Bremmer; Kampen: Kok Pharos, 1995), 97–118; Hugues Garcia, “La Polymorphie du Christ. Remarques sur quelques definition et sur de multiples enjeux,” Apocrypha 10 (1999):

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experiences to an internal audience of brethren, reports how when he and his brother James first met Jesus, he appeared to each of them in a distinct form: For when he had chosen Peter and Andrew, who were brothers, he came to me and my brother James, saying: ‘I have need of you; come to me!’ And my brother, having heard this, said: ‘John, this child on the shore who called to us – what does he want?’ And I said: ‘What child?’ And he again said to me: ‘The one waving at us to come!’ And I answered: ‘On account of our long watch at see, you’re not seeing straight, my brother James! Don’t you see the man standing there – fit, good-looking, with the merry face (ἱλαροπρόσωπος)?’ And he said to me: ‘I don’t see that man, brother – but let’s go and we shall see what this means.’50

There is, to my mind, a basic comic element in this scene, evoking (mis‑)recognition scenes of comedy but with a twist: here, there is no real identity, Jesus is both the child and the handsome man (or, perhaps, neither). But the key element for the present argument is the form in which Jesus (who continues to shape shift throughout the episode) first appears to John: he is fit, good-looking, and ἱλαροπρόσωπος, “merry,” “happy,” or “cheerful” with respect to his face. This is a rare term (appearing in the TLG only four times, including this instance), but its meaning is clear. While the Acts of John does not have a fully developed theory of polymorphy (whereby, for example, Jesus appears to human beings in forms tailored to match their capacity for understanding), it is significant that this is the form Jesus takes when first appearing to John. Later in this section of the text, Jesus is depicted as “joking” or “playing,” with the same term found in c. 28 (παίζειν). In c. 90, where the transfiguration is narrated from John’s point of view, the apostle recounts how he approached Jesus as he prayed, finding him so transfigured (not at all like a human being (ἄνθρωπον δὲ οὐδὲ ὅλως), with shining white feet and a head stretching up to heaven) that he cried out in fear. John reports that Jesus then turned, now appearing as a small person (μικρὸν ἄνθρωπον), took hold of John’s beard and tugged (καὶ κρατήσαντός μου τὸ γένειον ἀνασπάσαι), saying “John, don’t be faithless but faithful – and not a busy-body!’ (Ἰωάννη, μὴ γίνου ἄπιστος ἀλλὰ πιστὸς καὶ μὴ περίεργος)” The instantaneous transformation from a giant, super-human Jesus to a small man giving John a chastising tug on the beard is, to my mind, already rather comic. This comedy is heightened when we consider the image in contrast with canonical transfiguration scenes (Mk 9:2–8; Mt 17:1–8; Lk 9:8–26), with the description of the risen Son of Man in Rev 1:13–18, or with the other description of a giant Jesus in the Gospel of Peter 10 (38–42). These other scenes are deadly serious in a way that the image of a small man reaching up and tugging on your beard completely undercuts. 16–55; Paul Foster, “Polymorphic Christology: Its Origins and Development in Early Christianity,” JTS, NS, 58 (2007): 66–99. 50 Acts John 88.9–18.

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John’s response is – depending on the tone with which one reads it – potentially rather comic, too: “And I said to him, ‘Well, what did I do, Lord?’ (καὶ εἶπον αὐτῷ· Τί γὰρ ἐποίησα, κύριε;)”51 That there is humor in this scene is confirmed in John’s description (at the end of c. 90) to his internal audience of the pain caused by Jesus’ tug: “And I’m telling you, brothers, I suffered so much at the place where he took hold of my beard for thirty days that I said to him, ‘Lord, if your joking tug has caused such pain, what [would it be like] if you took hold of me with slaps?’ (Κύριε, εἰ τὸ τίλμα σου παίζοντος τοιαύτην ἀλγηδόνα πεποίηκεν, τί εἰ ῥαπίσμασίν μοι ἔλαβες;) And he said to me: ‘Let it be your future not to test the untestable’ (Σὸν λοιπὸν εἰ τὸν μὴ πειράζειν τὸν ἀπείραστον.)” To be sure, John’s narration of the transfiguration conveys serious information to both the internal audience (his own disciples) and the reader: in the Acts of John, these descriptions of Jesus’ polymorphy are the clearest expressions of his divinity. But the fact that the content is serious clearly does not preclude a comic delivery.

III. Conclusion I hope the reader is convinced that the Acts of John has some funny moments – that jokes and play are an intrinsic part of the narrative. But I would be remiss if I did not point out that the narrative also includes some very, very dark moments. Here are a few examples: as noted above, when his wife Cleopatra lies dying, Lycomedes first threatens suicide then literally dies of grief; in chs. 48–54, a young man kicks his own father to death, then, wracked with guilt, threatens to kill both himself and the woman he blames for his behavior; in chs. 56–57, a father whose twin sons are possessed by demons threatens to euthanize them to end their suffering; in ch. 64, Callimachus, who is in love with the married Drusiana, becomes physically ill when she rejects him; Drusiana, distraught at having caused his illness herself then dies of grief; he then, driven mad by this loss attempts to rape her corpse. These are dark events indeed, and the apostle himself is frequently driven to cry out in despair. My larger question, then – and one that I cannot address fully in a short essay – has to do with how these episodes fit together. How is it that this one narrative includes both some of the funniest and some of the most disturbing episodes in early Christian narrative? Some might suggest that this is primarily a function of 51  The use of γάρ in a question frequently expresses indignant incredulity. According to Denniston: “The question is rhetorical, or, at least, surprised and incredulous, often ironical; and implies that the speaker throws doubt on the grounds of the previous speaker’s words. The tone is dissentient. We may often render ‘why,’ ‘what?’ (or ‘what!’). Frequently the second speaker echoes, with contempt, indignation or surprise, a word or words used by the first.” (Greek Particles, 77). We might compare, just as one example, Diogenes Laertius’ account of Antisthenes’ ironic response when told “many men praise you” (πολλοί σε ἐπαινοῦσι): “‘Why?!’ he said ‘What evil have I done?’ (τί γάρ, ἔφη, κακὸν πεποίηκα;) (D. L. 6.8).

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genre, that this emotional rollercoaster is typical of ancient novels and cognate literature like the apocryphal acts. And I would agree that that is part of it. But I think there’s something else going on here as well. The Acts of John is a fragmentary text – or rather a text that exists in a few large chunks, with a few additional episodes that may or may not belong to the early text. While there may be a majority opinion, there is not yet scholarly consensus as to what order either the large chunks or the isolated episodes should be placed. As a result, it is difficult to make conclusive arguments as to the overall shape of the plot or purpose of the whole. That said, we might still be able to draw some tentative conclusions, particularly with respect to one aspect of the Acts of John that is strikingly different from the other extant apocryphal acts  – and that’s this: whereas in the other extant apocryphal acts, the plot is typically driven by conflict with authorities that lead to imprisonment and, ultimately, execution, the extant Acts of John contains very little conflict with authorities – and these moments, where they do exist, do not drive the plot. Instead, moments of crisis within the narrative – the moments when John himself despairs – generally have to do with the internal, or perhaps psychological, states of characters, particularly, though not exclusively, new adherents to Christianity. My suspicion, therefore, is that one overarching theme (if not the overarching theme) in the Acts of John involves instruction, by both negative and positive example, of how the Christian should respond to tragedy and personal crises of various sorts. I offer here just one brief example, which we find within the episode involving Callimachus, who is in love with Drusiana, who is married to Andronicus. As I already mentioned, Callimachus becomes physically ill as a consequence of his unrequited love for Drusiana; she, in turn, falls ill and ultimately dies from grief at the thought of having caused Callimachus’ illness. The key lines from the episode are as follows: So, while John was present [in Ephesus], Drusiana died, but he knew nothing of the matter. She did not die happy, but in grief (οὐ πάνυ ἡδομένη ἀλλὰ καὶ λυπουμένη) over [Callimachus’] damaged soul. Andronicus, secretly troubled, lamented both silently and with open tears, so that John would often silence him, saying, ‘Drusiana has passed on to a better hope, having left this unjust life behind.’ … When, however, she had been buried and John had consulted Andronicus and learned what had caused her death, he became more unhappy than Andronicus (μᾶλλον ἐπένθει τοῦ Ἀνδρονίκου).52

In other words, the problem for John is not that Drusiana has died, but that she has died in a state of grief and not happiness. This new information about her state of mind – again, not the death itself – causes the crisis that must be remedied by her resurrection. And when we look in a bit more detail at other episodes in the Acts, I think we see more hints in the same direction – instances where the 52 Acts

John 64.11–66.3.

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real crisis is not external circumstances, but internal human despair in response to those circumstances. This, then, is how I see the jokes and playfulness of some episodes fitting together with the desperation and grief of others. I think that the author of the Acts of John has constructed a narrative argument almost directly opposed to what John Chrysostom says. The “present time” is not “for mourning and affliction, for bruising and enslavement, for struggles and sweating”; to the contrary, I think the argument of the Acts of John is that the present time – even for Christians, even for ascetically-minded Christians – is for happiness, is for joking, is for rejoicing.

Better Ending: Paul at the Roman Colonia Philippi in Acts 16 Angela Standhartinger Acts 16 has not been neglected in New Testament scholarship in recent years. Lydia, Paul’s first convert at Philippi, has been honored with more than five monographs.1 Scholars setting out to explore the social and political environment of Christ’s followers at the Colonia Augusta Iulia Philippensis usually combine data from Acts with those from Paul’s letter. On the basis of these two sources, the social stratification of the congregation, as well the political and theological conflicts within this particularly Roman city, have been extensively described, albeit in diverging ways.2 Only in Acts are we informed of the ethnicity, gender, and profession of Paul’s first two converts, even though their actual status is a contested issue.3 It is in the Philippi account in Acts that Paul publicly reveals 1  Ivoni Richter Reimer, Women in the Acts of the Apostles: A Feminist Liberation Perspective, trans. Linda M. Maloney (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995); Jean-Pierre Sterck-Degueldre, Eine Frau namens Lydia: Zu Geschichte und Komposition in Apostelgeschichte 16,11–16.40. WUNT 2.176 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004); Richard A. Ascough, Lydia: Paul’s Cosmopolitan Hostess (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2009); Eva Ebel, Lydia und Berenike: Zwei selbständige Frauen bei Lukas. Biblische Gestalten 20 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2009); Teresa J. Calpino, Women, Work and Leadership in Acts. WUNT 2.361 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014). Alexandra Gruca-Macaulay, Lydia as a Rhetorical Construct in Acts (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016). See also: Friedrich Gustav Lang, “Neues über Lydia? Zur Deutung von ‘Purpurhändlerin’ in Apg 16,14,” ZNW 100 (2009): 29–44, and below. 2 See, e. g., Craig Steven de Vos, Church and Community Conflicts: The Relationships of the Thessalonian, Corinthian, and Philippian Churches with Their Wider Civic Communities. SBLDS 168 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1999), 250–87; Peter Oakes, Philippians: From People to Letter. SNTSMS 110 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001); Joseph H. Hellerman, Reconstructing Honor in Roman Philippi: Carmen Christi as Cursus Pudorum. SNTSMS 132 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005); Heiko Wojtkowiak, Christologie und Ethik im Philipperbrief: Studien zur Handlungsorientierung einer frühchristlichen Gemeinde in paganer Umwelt. FRLANT 243 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2012), 42–48. Only few have discussed the source of Luke’s Philippi account. Richard S. Ascough (Paul’s Macedonian Associations: The Social Context of Philippians and 1 Thessalonians. WUNT 2.161 [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003], 208–12) speculates that the author drew upon a (written?) “we” source. 3  On the question of Lydia’s status, see below. On the less-discussed jailor, some assume that he was a soldier (cf. David Lertis Matson, Household Conversion Narratives in Acts: Pattern and Interpretation. JSNTSup 123 [Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1996], 157), while others see him as a public slave (cf. Davorin Peterlin, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians in the Light of Disunity in the Church. NovTSup 79 [Leiden: Brill, 1995], 144–51). Apart from that, he is the head of a household but neither a magistrate nor a lictor. Acts provides no further information on his social status.

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for the first time that he and Silas hold Roman citizenship (Acts 16:37), thereby helping at least some scholars to determine Paul’s own social status.4 Acts mirrors the impression conveyed by Phil 4:15–16 and 1:5. This congregation seems to have provided Paul with his first and only faithful friends at a time – namely, after his break with Antioch – when friends were sorely needed. Acts would appear to inform us of a conflict between Paul and the city’s authorities, including a rare report of a charge laid against Paul’s missionary team by Roman accusers: “These fellows are convulsing the city! They are Jews and commend practices that we Romans can neither accept nor follow.”5 The legal rationale behind this charge remains obscure, however. Have they been accused of being Jews, Christians, commending non-Roman customs, disturbing the peace of the city, practicing magic?6 The conflict, which involves a riot, accusations, flogging, and imprisonment, might, according to 1 Thess 2:2, bear parallels to the conflict that leads to the missionaries’ expulsion from Philippi and is ongoing according to Phil 1:29–30. It is plausible that, at this point, Acts 16 is inspired by literary knowledge of Paul’s letters, as Richard Pervo argues.7 At least the evidence for using 1 Thessalonians is strong.8 Nevertheless, substantial overlap between Paul’s letter to the Philippians and Acts 16 is meager at best. While elsewhere Paul does not hesitate to name his “firstling” in a city or province, neither Lydia nor the jailor are mentioned in his letter to the Philippians.9 In fact, no character apart from Paul is mentioned in the two Philippi accounts. Not even Timothy, the cosender of Philippians (Phil 1:1), whom Paul warmly recommends as his deputy in Phil 2:19–24, appears to be on the missionary team in Acts 16. He, who immediately after his conversion and circumcision is invited to replace John Mark on Paul’s missionary team (Acts 4 See, e. g., the essays collected in the volume: The Last Years of Paul: Essays from the Tarragona Conference, June 2013. WUNT 352 (ed. Armand Puig i Tàrrech et al.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015). 5 Acts 16:20–21. Unless otherwise indicated, translations from Acts are taken from Richard I. Pervo, Acts: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009). 6  See the various proposals by: Willem C. van Unnik, “Die Anklage gegen die Apostel in Philippi, Apostelgeschichte xvi 20 f,” Sparsa Collecta: The collected essays of W. C. van Unnik. Part One. Evangelia. Paulina. Acta. NovTSup 29 (Leiden: Brill, 1973), 374–85; Daniel R. Schwartz, “The Accusation and the Accusers at Philippi (Acts 16,20–21),” Biblica 65 (1984): 357–63; de Vos, “Finding a Charge that fits: The Accusation against Paul and Silas at Philippi (Acts 16.19–21),” JSNT 74 (1999): 51–63; and Pervo, Acts, 406–7. 7  Pervo, Dating Acts Between the Evangelists and the Apologists (Santa Rosa, CA: Polebrige , 2006), 100–147. 8 Ibid., 141–42. 9  See Rom 16:5: Epaenetus, firstling of Asia; 1 Cor 16:15: Stephanas, firstling of Achaia. Nineteenth-century commentators and, more recently, Peterlin (Paul’s Letter, 128–30) identify Lydia’s name as a nickname for either Euodia or Syntyche (Phil 4:2). Some nineteenth-century commentators speculate that the name of the jailor is Clement (Phil 4:3) (cf. Paul Ewald and Gustav Wohlenberg, Der Brief des Paulus an die Philipper, 3rd ed. [Leipzig: Deichertsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1917], 216).

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16:1–5), is next mentioned only in Acts 17:14 at Beroea. As Richard Pervo presumes, “the claim that Timothy was (beside Paul and Silas) also a Roman citizen would have placed undue strain on credulity.”10 It cannot be denied that Acts 16 narrates its own Philippi story. Therefore, strategies defending the historical reliability of the Philippi episode in Acts argue for its general soundness and historical verisimilitude. The most influential of these has been that of Peter Pilhofer, who identifies the Macedonian man (who appears at night to call Paul for help in Macedonia) as the author of Acts.11 The author’s knowledge of the locality is said to be reflected in the description of Philippi as “a city of the first district of Macedonia” (πρώτης μερίδος τῆς Μακεδονίας πόλις, 16:12), his localization of the place of prayer (προσευχή, 16:13), references to the demand for purple in a city that necessitates dealers in purple goods (like Lydia), the veneration of the Most High God (θεὸς ὕψιστος, 16:17) in Macedonia, and the titles borne by city officials.12 However, L. Michael White and others have raised serious objections to this identification.13 For one thing, the text of Acts 16:12 that Pilhofer interprets is not attested to in any manuscript.14 The oldest text instead reads: “the first city of that district of Macedonia (πρώτη μερίδος τῆς Μακεδονίας πόλις 16:12).” Historically, this statement is untrue, for that role belonged to Amphipolis.15 Likewise, extensive debates on Lydia’s status, profession, religious affiliation, and the identity of the place (proseuche) where she gathers among other women outside the city proves that Acts is at least ambiguous in its representation of this character. Thus far, a synagogue is not attested in Philippi prior to the fourth century.16 Acts is nearly alone in referring to the city’s leaders as ἄρχοντες (16:19) and στρατηγοί (16:30, 35–38); elsewhere in the archaeological record, Philippi’s magistrates are known 10 Pervo,

Acts, 387 n. 14.  Peter Pilhofer, Philippi. Vol. 1: Die erste christliche Gemeinde Europas. WUNT 87 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1995), 153–59. 12 Pilhofer, Philippi, 1.159–99. Cf. Justin Taylor, “The Roman Empire in the Acts of the Apostles,” ANRW 2.26.3 (1996), 2436–2500, at 2442–58; Stefan Schapdick, “Der missionarische Anfang im europäischen Makedonien als Gottesgeschehen: Zum lukanischen Bild der Paulus-Mission in Philippi (Apg 16,11–40),” in Das Paulusbild der Apostelgeschichte (ed. Rudolf Hoppe and Kristell Köhler; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2009), 75–100. 13  L. Michael White, “Visualizing the ‘Real’ World of Acts 16: Toward Construction of a Social Index,” in The Social World of the First Christians: Essays in Honor of Wayne A. Meeks (ed. Michael White et al.; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 234–61. 14  According to the NA28, this version exists in some manuscripts of the Vulgate. 15  Cf. Lukas Bormann, Philippi: Stadt und Christengemeinde zur Zeit des Paulus. NovTSup 78 (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 4–7. Richard S. Ascough (“Civic Pride at Philippi: The Text-Critical Problem of Acts 16.12,” NTS 44 [1998]: 93–103, at 102–3) argues: “The designation of πρώτη πόλις does not necessarily reflect an official designation but may just as well reflect personal claims of the author or those he represents.” 16  Chaido Koukouli-Chrysantaki, “Colonia Iulia Augusta Philippensis,” in Philippi at the Time of Paul and after his Death (ed. Charalambos Bakirtzis and Helmut Koester; Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1998), 28–36. 11

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as the dumviri. “Στρατηγός generally means a military officer; however, it is regularly found in the papyri as the equivalent for the Latin praetor.”17 Ἄρχοντες is a general term.18 The designation of Philippi as a colonia (16:12) can be verified by historical and archaeological data from the city. However, that is virtually the only feature of the story that could be called evidence-based. The existence of lictores (ῥαβδοῦχοι, 16:35, 38) is plausible.19 Yet surprisingly, in Acts 16, they neither carry out the seizure and arrest of Paul and Silas, nor do they explicitly administer the whippings.20 Instead, they deliver messages from the magistrates to the jailor (16:35, 38). In the following, I will not engage any further with the debate on the historical plausibility of the Philippi account in Acts. Instead, with the help of Richard Pervo’s outstanding, life-long work and excellent studies on Acts, I will examine the account’s literary function. Although it is not the beginning of Paul’s mission, his stay in Philippi represents his first missionary endeavor after the Jerusalem assembly. It is to this city alone that he is called by a nightly vision. Here he converts his first two households. In Acts 16, Paul has, for the first time, to face not Jewish but Roman opposition. Here the author, conventionally called Luke, narrates his third and most elaborate story of a prison escape. And here Paul is for the first time exonerated by Roman officials. I will argue that the Philippi account in Acts is a proleptic preview of the narrative’s end. It foreshadows not only Paul’s final encounter with Rome, but also the vindication that is implied, but not ultimately achieved, in Acts 27–28. First, I will retell the Philippi account of Acts 16 in its narrative context, and second, I will highlight some repetitions and parallels, as well as some narrative gaps and features, which suggest a symbolic meaning to this exciting and amusing story.

I. Acts 16 in its Literary Context Alluding to Martin Kähler’s famous dictum, Pervo calls Acts “the story of the Pauline mission with a long introduction.”21 Paul’s diaspora mission to the gen17  White, “Visualizing,” 246. Contrastingly, Pilhofer (Philippi, 1.196–97) refers to a bilingual inscription recently discovered in Corinth, honoring the five-times duumvir of Corinth, equestrian Cn. Cornelius Pulcher, as στρατηγὸς τῆς πόλεως Κορινθίων πενταετηρικόν (IG 4. 1600). In late antiquity, this equivalent appears to become more common; cf. Leonard A. Curchin, “The End of Local Magistrates in the Roman Empire,” Gerión 32 (2014): 271–87, at 274: “The stratēgos held a magistracy equivalent to the duumvirate, as shown both by the synonyms ‘stratēgos magistratus duumvir’ and by two constitutions of A. D. 531, one in Greek listing the stratēgos, the other in Latin listing the duumvir, as equivalent to the defensor civitatis.” 18 Cf. White, “Visualizing,” 256–57. 19  Pilhofer, Philippi, 1.198–99. 20  But see Apuleius, Metam. 3.2; 3.9; 9.41 and Christian Gizewski, “Lictor,” DNP 7: 180–82. 21 Pervo, The Mystery of Acts: Unraveling Its Story (Santa Rosa, CA: Polebridge, 2008), 30.

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tiles already starts in chapter 13. Sent out by the congregation of Antioch at the behest of the Spirit, who requested that they “be so good as to reserve Barnabas and Saul for the task to which I have called them” (13:2), he and Barnabas set off for Cyprus. Barnabas, however, is mentioned only occasionally on this first of the so-called missionary journeys.22 Paul’s initial task is to fight the magician Bar-Jesus, alias Elymas, and win the Proconsul of that island, Sergius Paulus, over to his side. After this astonishing success with a representative of the highest Roman elite, the missionaries simply sail away. The function of this enigmatic episode is, as Pervo puts it, “to establish through the one concrete incident the superiority of Paul.”23 Furthermore, by converting gentiles, the so-called first mission journey “set the agenda for the famous ‘council’ of Acts 15.”24 Furthermore, the mission to Antioch of Pisidia, Iconium, etc., introduces the missionary’s agenda that will shape his future activities in almost every city: starting in the synagogue, turning to gentiles when the synagogue is not receptive (enough), encountering troubles raised by Jews, shifting to gentiles, with more success but also more intense opposition, and enduring persecution, which “serves as a catapult from which Paul is propelled from one location to another.”25 After the Jerusalem council, Peter, Barnabas, and John Mark disappear from the narrative. Paul establishes his new team, consisting of Silas, put forward by the Jerusalem council (15:22, 27), and Timothy, a new recruit and the son of an already faithful (πίστη) Jewish mother and a Greek father, recommended by the brothers and sisters of Lystra and Derbe (16:1–3). In opposition to Paul’s own telling in 1 Cor 4:17 and Phil 2:22, Acts implies that Timothy was already a Christian before he met Paul. And, in contrast to the just-reached consensus at Jerusalem (Acts 15:19, 28), Paul circumcises Timothy, thereby underlining his own faithfulness to his Jewish people and ethos, and also turning his new assistant into an adequate replacement for John Mark from Jerusalem (12:12).26 Moreover, Timothy’s ethnically mixed origin introduces a dense series of ethnic ascriptions in the following episode, culminating in Paul’s and Silas’s revelation of their Roman citizenship.27 The reason for Timothy’s astonishing circumcision 22 Acts

13:7, 43, 46; 14:12, 14, 29. Mystery, 126. 24  Pervo, Mystery, 127. 25  Pervo, Luke’s Story of Paul (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990), 48. See 13:45–50 (Antioch of Pisidia) 14:1–5 (Iconium); 14:19 (Lystra). For Luke’s fondness for stereotyped episodes and variations on the basic pattern, see Pervo, Mystery, 45, 75–82. 26  Cf. Pervo, Acts, 388. 27 In the course of the following action, the following characters appear: a Macedonian man (16:9), a Lydian woman from Thyatira (16:14), and the Roman owners of a soothsaying slave (16:20). Furthermore, the charges the slave owners bring against Paul place Jewish and Roman customs in opposition to one another (16:21). Paul also for the first time claims that he and his assistant are both Roman citizens (16:37). This is neither the most extensive nor the most colorful list of ethnicities in Acts (see 2:10–11; 6:9; 8:27), but it is the second time that Romans are mentioned by name (cf. 2:10) and the first time that Romans appear as actors on stage. For a 23 Pervo,

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reads “because of the Jews in those parts” (διὰ τοὺς Ἰουδαίους τοὺς ὄντας ἐν τοῖς τόποις ἐκείνοις, 16:3). Luke thereby reminds the reader of the envious attacks of some other Jews in Antioch of Pisidia (13:45:50), Iconium (14:1–5), and Lystra (14:19). With this substructure, Acts 16 pursues the missionary pattern – from Jews to God-fearers and beyond – established in Acts 13–14: Here the line runs from the Jew Timothy to Lydia, the “God-fearer” (σεβομένη τὸν θεόν, 16:14), and finally to the first heathen without any previous affiliation with Judaism: the jailor.28 The next six verses propel Paul and his new team to Europe, or at least to Macedonia.29 At a breathtaking pace, they cross the northeast of Asia Minor, twice prevented by the Spirit from proclaiming the message.30 Finally, at (Alexander) Troas, Paul receives the redeeming vision. At night, a Macedonian man appears, imploring: “Come over to Macedonia and help us” (16:9). Similar appearances of a personified province are well known in the careers of such famous personalities as Alexander, Caesar, and Apollonius of Tyana. 31 “Readers of Acts would understand not only that the direction of Paul’s mission was determined by God but also that he was an individual of the status of Alexander and Caesar.”32 Elsewhere visions lead to the foundation or transfer of a cult. “Miracles work … to insert and entrench the god’s followers in territories otherwise closed to the foreign and unfamiliar.”33 Here the interpretation of this nightly vision is attributed to a suddenly appearing we-group. This first-person plural disap-

theoretically informed reading of ethnicities in Acts 16, see Eric D. Barreto, Ethnic Negotiations: The Function of Race and Ethnicity in Acts 16. WUNT 2.294; (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010). However, I am not convinced that Luke argues for a “flexibility of ethnic constructions,” but rather for the prevalence of a Roman cultural identity. 28 Sergius Paulus in Acts 13 had been impressed by a “Jewish practitioner of sorcery and prophetic quackery” (13:6) before he encounters Paul and Barnabas. For parallels between Timothy and Lydia, see Bart J. Koet, “Im Schatten des Aeneas: Paulus in Troas (Apg 16,8–10),” in Luke and His Readers: Festschrift A. Denaux. BEThL182 (ed. Reimund Bieringer et al.; Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 415–39, at 420–21. 29  Whether the notion of a European continent as a geographical or political-cultural concept existed in antiquity is disputed. Pilhofer (Philippi, 1.154–55) denies its existence. Dietrich-Alex Koch (“Kollektenbericht, ‘Wir’-Bericht und Itinerar. Neue (?) Überlegungen zu einem alten Problem,” NTS 45 [1999]: 367–90, at 386 n. 61) affirms this by pointing to the chronographer Pomponius Mela and Herodotus, Hist. 5.36–45. See also Elisabeth Erdmann, “Europe,” DNP 4: 290–93. 30  Acts 16:6–7. Next time the Spirit will guide Paul through Macedonia, Achaea, and from Jerusalem to Rome (19:21). The route described in Acts 16:6–8 is unclear and not at all realistic. See Pervo, Acts, 389; and Koch, “Kollektenbericht,” 382. 31  For Alexander: Josephus, Ant. 11.333–35; for Caesar: Suetonius, Jul. 32; Apollonius: Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 4.34. Cf. Alfred Wilkenhauser, “Religionsgeschichtliche Parallelen zu Apg 16,9,” BZ 23 (1935): 180–86; and Pervo, Acts, 391. 32  Pervo, Acts, 391. 33  John B. Weaver, Plots of Epiphany: Prison-escape in Acts of the Apostles. BZNW 131 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004), 278.

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pears as suddenly as it had appeared after 16:17.34 It brings readers more closely into the story, as “a rhetorical shorthand for the Pauline Christians” and their “symbolic and proleptic inclusion,” as Marianne P. Bonz convincingly argues.35 With regard to the interpretation of the instructing (συμβιβάζειν) vision, there can be no doubt: 36 As the Spirit has called (προσκαλεῖν) Paul and Barnabas to their first missionary journey in Acts 13:2, the Macedonian man calls (προσκαλεῖν) the missionaries up to a new task (16:10). Slowed down by a detailed description of the sea voyages via Samothrace and Neapolis, the missionaries reach “a leading city in this district of Macedonia,”37 the colonia Philippi. The reference to Philippi’s status as a colonia is remarkable, as Acts does not mention the historical fact for other cities known to have held the same status, like Antioch of Pisidia, Iconium, Lystra, Troas, and Corinth. Luke places emphasis on the Roman character of this particular city. The Roman author Aulus Gellius characterizes a colonia as a “miniature and copy of Rome.”38 At Philippi, Augustus triumphed over the murderers of his father, Cassius and Brutus. The Colonia Augusta Iulia Philippensis marks an exceptional place on the ideological map of the early Roman Empire. At the first Sabbath, Paul and his team “went beyond the city gate to the riverside, where we thought there would be a place of prayers.”39 Here they preach to the assembled women, the most prominent among them being Lydia, a dealer or dyer of purple (cloth) (πορφυρόπωλις). Her status, wealth, and religious affiliation are highly disputed. Her name, taken from a province, could point to a (former) slave, and her occupation might be that of a socially despised dyer.40 34 In conclusion to his detailed analysis, Jürgen Wehnert (Die Wir-Passagen der Apostelgeschichte: Ein lukanisches Stilmittel aus jüdischer Tradition. Göttinger theologische Arbeiten 40 [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989], 180) states: “Eine Textanalyse von Apg 16 ergab, dass Lukas innerhalb und außerhalb der W(ir) P(assagen) die Anwesenheit einer extensional identischen Aktantengruppe voraussetzt, also keinen zusätzlichen wir-Sprecher einführt, sondern einer der bereits vorher auftretenden Personen phasenweise diese Rolle überträgt.” 35 Marianne P. Bonz, The Past as Legacy: Luke-Acts and Ancient Epic (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 170–173, quotations from 170 and 173. Cf. Pervo, Acts, 392–96. 36  Some, e. g., John B. Miller (Convinced that God has called us: Dream, Visions and the Perception of God’s will in Luke-Acts. BibInt Series 85 (Leiden: Brill, 2007]) and Matteo Crimella (“The Vision of the Macedonian: Acts 16:6–10,” RB 121 [2014]: 392–403), argue that the narrator wants to emphasize the role of a subjective human element in interpreting God’s will. However, for Acts, the characters react to the Spirit in an unmediated way. 37 The reading with brackets is presented by P74, ‫א‬, A, C, among others. The manuscripts B, L 323, and M read “a city in the first district of Macedonia.” 38  Aulus Gellius, Noc. Att. 16.13.9. 39 Acts 16:13. The reconstruction of the text is highly problematic at this point, as both the singular ἐνομίζεν and the nominative προσευχή are well attested. Yet as Pervo (Acts, 402) rightly reminds: “All solutions raise the problem of why the party did not make efforts to ascertain if and where Jews gathered.” 40  Richter Reimer, Women, 71–149, esp. 92–109. Gruca-Macaulay (Lydia) argues that Lydia represents an immoral Lydian “huckster.” However, the role of the hucksters seems to me played by the owners of the soothsaying slave.

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As a dealer in purple, she would have been at least fairly well situated.41 Beside Tabitha (9:43) and Priscilla (18:3), she is one of three female artisans in Acts. And after the proconsul Sergius Paulus, Lydia is the second of Paul’s converts who is honored with a name. Lydia’s conversion foreshadows that of prominent women at Thessalonica (17:4), Beroea (17:12), and Damaris at Athens (17:34).42 That she fits in so well with the type of convert Acts prefers is one of the other reasons to doubt that she ever existed outside this narrative.43 Lydia’s religious affiliation is that of a “God-fearer,” a category of gentiles who frequent synagogues, introduced in chapter 13 of Acts.44 The place where she meets her missionaries outside the city gate is called προσευχή. Proseuche can be used as a synonym for a Jewish synagogue.45 And by having her met by Paul and his team at the “first Sabbath,” Luke undoubtedly implies a Jewish context.46 So far, the mission at Philippi follows the typical pattern. However, one has to ask why Luke does not refer to the place as a synagogue. The fact that women gather there would not rule out its being referred to as such.47 But, while everywhere else in Acts, the Jewish prayer house is called a synagogue, the term προσευχή denotes merely the act of praying.48 Luke keeps the religious affiliation of this place, “outside the city’s gate at a river,” deliberately vague. No other women gathered at the proseuche join Lydia in conversion, nor does Paul encounter any

41  Cf. Pilhofer, Philippi, 1.174–82; Sterck-Degueldre, Eine Frau, 134–38; Ebel, Lydia, 25–33; Ascough, Lydia; Calpino, Women, 180–221; and Pervo, Acts, 403–4. 42 This list will be continued by the most prominent female hearer attracted to Paul’s missionary speech, Queen Bernice at the end of the story (Acts 25:13, 23; 26, 30). Cf. Shelly Matthews, “Elite Women, Public Religion, and Christian Propaganda,” in A Feminist Companion to the Acts of the Apostles (ed. Amy-Jill Levine; London: T & T Clark, 2004), 105–33; eadem, First Converts: Rich Pagan Women and the Rhetoric of Mission in Early Judaism and Christianity (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001), 85–95. 43 See Bonz, Past, 167; Matthews, “Elite Women,” 132; First Converts, 93; Dennis R. MacDonald, “Lydia and Her Sisters as Lukan Fiction,” in A Feminist Companion to the Acts of the Apostles (ed. Amy-Jill Levine; London: T & T Clark, 2004), 105–10. 44 Cf. Acts 13:16, 26 (οἱ φοβούμενοι τὸν θεόν), afterward σεβόμενοι (Act 13:43, 50; 16:14; 17:4; 18:7). On this category in Acts, see Pervo, Acts, 332–34. 45  See Philo, Legat. 156; Josephus, Vita 277; P.Tebt 1.86; and Martin Hengel, “Proseuche und Synagoge: Jüdische Gemeinde, Gotteshaus und Gottesdienst in der Diaspora und in Palästina,” in Judaica et Hellenistica: Kleine Schriften I. WUNT 90 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 171–95. 46  See especially Acts 13:14: In Antioch of Pisidia, Paul and his companions “went into the synagogue on the Sabbath and took a seat” ([εἰσ]ελθόντες εἰς τὴν συναγωγὴν τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῶν σαββάτων ἐκάθισαν) and are invited to deliver their sermon. Cf. Acts 8:31; 18:11. 47  See Luke 13:10–17. A minyan of only ten males is a later restriction. See t.Megillah 3.11 and Hannah Safrai, “Women and The Ancient Synagogue,” in Daughters of the King: Women and the Ancient Synagogue (eds. Susan Grossmann and Rivka Haut; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1992), 39–49. 48 Acts 1:14; 2:42; 3:1; 6:4; 10:4, 31; 12:5.

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Jewish opposition at Philippi. As Pervo puts it: “In this story, the narrator will restrict hostility to polytheists.”49 After being baptized together with her house, Lydia invites Paul and his team to lodge with her.50 Hence, Paul begins a series of three household conversions, in fulfillment of Jesus’s instruction to the seventy-two messengers in Luke 10:5– 7.51 However, verse 16 seems to have forgotten about Lydia’s “house-church.” Paul and his team are still on their way to the Proseuche (16:13).52 On their way out of the city, they encounter Lydia’s antitype, a slave woman doubly possessed by “a Pythonian spirit,” and some owners who make plenty of money out of her prophetic gifts (16:16). As she runs after “Paul and us,” she cries: “These people are slaves of a Most High God, they proclaim to you a way of salvation.”53 This sounds like free advertising. Nothing is wrong with her prophecy, apart from its origin.54 As Pervo observes: “There is … irony in that the demon has forsaken its would-be exploiters and begun to pour forth advertisements for Paul.”55 Paul, however, becomes furious and exorcises the spirit in the name and by imitation of Jesus Christ.56 What begins as a typical exorcism remains unfinished, however: The spirit is not afforded an opportunity to demonstrate his power, nor is any reintegration of the slave into any type of community permitted. Silenced, she exits the narrative.57

49 Pervo,

Acts, 403.  Lydia serves here, just as Martha serves Jesus and his disciples in Luke 10:38–42. See Pervo, Acts, 404; with Kathleen E. Corley, Private Women, Public Meals: Social Conflict in the Synoptic Tradition (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1993), 143. 51  See Acts 16:33 and 18:9; and Matson, Household Conversion, 135–83. 52  Cf. Ernst D. Haenchen, Die Apostelgeschichte. KEK 3 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1977), 439. 53  Acts 16:17. Translation by the author. 54  Hans-Josef Klauck (Magic and Paganism in Early Christianity: The World of the Acts of the Apostles [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003], 68) argues that the slave does not talk about “the soteria,” like Paul, but only about “a soteria,” thereby “implying that the Christian path is only one among many.” 55 Pervo, “The Literary Genre of the Acts of the Apostles” (Diss., Harvard University, 1976), 258. 56  Acts 16:18. Demons reveal the divine identity of Jesus in Mark 1:41 / ​Luke 4:41. The unclean spirit in Mark 5:7 / ​Luke 8:28 calls Jesus “son of the Highest God” (υἱὲ τοῦ θεοῦ τοῦ ὑψίστου). For parallels to Mark 5:1–20, see: Pervo, Acts, 405–6. For comparison to Luke 8:26–39, see Richter Reimer, Women, 171; Johann Hintermaier, Die Befreiungswunder in der Apostelgeschichte: Motiv‑ und formkritische Aspekte sowie literarische Funktion der wunderbaren Befreiungen in Apg 5,17–42; 12,1–23; 16,11–40. BBB 143 (Berlin: Philo 2003), 273–77; Todd Klutz, The Exorcism Stories in Luke-Acts: A Sociostylistic Reading. MSSNTS 129 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 231–33. However, as Matthews (First Converts, 89–90) remarks, this is not a typical exorcism. “The slave girl is not depicted as being physically tormented by the possessing spirit (cf. Luke 8:29). No crowd is present to witness in astonishment the miraculous event and no one proclaims the deed.” 57 See further Richter Reimer, Women, 162–201. 50

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Instead of an awestruck crowd, admiring and proclaiming this triumph over the demons as splendorous, the slave’s owners, realizing “that their expectation of income had left,” rouse an angry mob (16:19). In fighting magic, and more significantly, the way in which men were making money from it, Paul emulates Peter’s battle with Simon the magician (8:9–24). Soon afterwards, at Ephesus, Jewish charlatans attempting to perform an exorcism in Paul’s name will lead to the total bankruptcy of magic and to the burning of magical books valued at about fifty thousand pieces of silver (19:13–18). In Roman satire, soothsaying for money in public places is a standard trope for ridiculing foreign religions, including Judaism.58 There is some irony at work when these slave-owning hucksters of fortune-telling and ventriloquism at a Roman colony turn out to be Romans (16:21). After the Jewish sorcerer and magician Bar-Jesus, alias Elymas (13:6–12), the slave woman possessed by the Pythion spirit is the second false prophet whom Paul curses. This time, however, Roman officials are not as easily won over. Hauled by the slave’s owners to the marketplace in the city center, Paul and his companions are accused of disturbing the peace, promoting non-Roman practices, being Jewish, and perhaps also of promulgating a foreign cult.59 Among this dizzying list of accusations, one is noticeably missing: the most logical accusation of practicing magic.60 However, the charges that are made by these dubious religious entrepreneurs will shortly prove themselves ridiculous.61 In any event, as some Jews at Thessalonica and Beroea (17:5–8, 13) and Jews from Asia at Jerusalem (21:27–28) will do in the subsequent narrative, the slave’s owners manage to rouse enough rabblement to convince the crowd (ὁ ὅχλος) and the magistrates (οἱ στρατηγοί) that these men must be immediately stripped of their clothing, severely flogged, and imprisoned in the city’s jail, noticeably without any formal trial (16:22–23) or attempt at a defense on the part of those wrongly accused. Instead, the jailor (ὁ δεσμοφύλαξ) takes the stage. As he is ordered, he holds the alleged agitators most securely “in the innermost cell” and shackles “their feet in stocks” (16:24). This represents maximum security, as is known from social history and early Christian martyrdom accounts.62 Now, having “committed (their) cause entirely to God, sought neither to defend  See Juvenal, Sat. 6.510–91.  See above n. 6. 60 See de Vos “Finding;” Andy M. Reimer, “Virtual Prison Breaks: Non-Escape Narratives and the Definition of ‘Magic,’” in Magic in the biblical world: From the rod of Aaron to the ring of Solomon, JSNTSup 245 (ed. Todd E. Klutz; London: T & T Clark, 2003), 125–39; Klutz, Exorcism Stories, 249–50; Frederick E. Brenk, “The exorcism at Philippoi in Acts 16.11–40. Divine possession or diabolic inspiration?” in With Unperfumed Voice: Studies in Plutarch, in Greek Literature, Religion and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background. Potsdamer Altertumswissenschaftliche Beiträge 21 (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007), 495–513. 61  Similarly, the potential loss of earnings (ἐργασία) on the part of the silversmiths will lead to another disturbance in Ephesus. See Acts 19:24–25 and Pervo, “The Literary Genre,” 259–61. 62 For martyrs in the innermost part of a prison, see Pervo, Acts, 408 n. 76. 58 59

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(themselves) nor yet to render a strict account of what had passed, but silently endure (their) bonds and confinement, confident that God, who knew the cause of (their) calamity and the truth, would prove stronger than those who had bound them,” 63 Paul and Silas do what biblical and philosophical righteous ones should do in prison: They sing.64 At first, their midnight hymns are heard only by their fellow-prisoners.65 But God’s answer is not long in coming. A sudden earthquake opens the door and causes all fetters to fall (16:25). As true sages, however, Paul and Silas do not escape prison but wait confidently for Roman justice to arrive.66 Although the earthquake has rocked the foundations of their jail, only one inhabitant of Philippi awakens, the jailor (16:27). Noticing that his prison and the fetters have been opened, he pulls out his sword, intending to kill himself. Conceivably, he fears the same severe punishment that his poor colleagues, having failed to guard Peter, had to face (12:19). However, by assuring that all prisoners stayed in prison, Paul prevents him from committing suicide. Luke does not explain how Paul could have known what was going on in the other cells or what the jailor’s intention might be. However, the jailor immediately understands what is to be done. Calling for illumination, he “rushes in and falls trembling before Paul and Silas,” asking the essential question: “Lords, what must I do to be saved?” (16:29–30). “He has sensed the presence of the numinous and has turned his thoughts from death to deliverance.”67 This “lord’s” answer echoes the words of Jesus to synagogue leader Jairus at the moment when he heard of the death of his daughter: “Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved, you and your house” (16:31).68 What had begun as a prison-escape story turns into a conversion of the jailor’s household. Unlike the two previous prison-escape stories, in Acts 5 and 12, the anticipated ending does not come to pass: the prisoners do not escape into freedom but wait patiently to be released.69 The other prisoners are ig63 Josephus, Ant. 2.60, on the patriarch Joseph in jail. Translation: Thackeray. T. Jos. 2.3 reads like a short version of Paul and Silas’s experience in prison: “I was jailed, I was whipped, I was sneered at, but the Lord granted me mercy in the sight of the prison-keeper” (ἐφυλακίσθην, ἐτυπτήθην, ἐμυκτηρίσθην· καὶ ἔδωκέ με κύριος εἰς οἰκτιρμοὺς ἐνώπιον τοῦ δεσμοφύλακος). Translation: H. C.  Kee, OTP. 64  Sages who sing and pray in prison include Daniel (Dan 3:16–24 LXX) and Joseph (T. Jos. 8:5. 4Q372 [4QApocrphon of Josephb] I.17–32 reports Joseph’s prayer). Socrates is said to have composed a paian, a song to Apollo, in prison. Plato, Phaid. 60d; Epictetus, Disc. 2.6.26; Diogenes Laertius 2.42. See also Pervo, Acts, 411 n. 96. 65  Pervo (Acts, 411 n. 95) notes that midnight is the most common time to be rescued, and not only in Acts (5:29; 9:24; 12:6; 27:27). See Artapanus, frag. 4 and Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 8:30. 66  Cf. Demetrius and his friend Antiphilus: Lucian, Tox. 33; Apollonius, in Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 8:34–38; and Socrates: Diogenes Laertius 2.24. 67 Pervo, Luke’s Story, 58. 68  Cf. Luke 8:50 (cf. 8:12) and Acts 15:11. The phrase might be inspired by Paul’s letters. See 1 Cor 1:21; 15:2; Rom 1:16; 10:9; 13:11. 69 Cf. Pervo, Mystery, 63.

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nored.70 Paul and Silas are liberated by the jailor, who also washes their wounds. In return, the jailor receives the word of the Lord, is immediately baptized with his entire household, and escorts the missionaries to his home to celebrate a meal and rejoice greatly that all have come to faith in God.71 As Matson observes, the short story contains the most emphatic use of the οἶκος formula in Luke and Acts;72 and while this conversion and baptism recall Peter’s encounter with Cornelius, it is the first time in Acts that missionaries are placed at a table with former non-Jews.73 Strikingly, Paul and Silas thereby transgress Jesus’s commands: “Do not move about from house to house in the same city” (Luke 10:7).74 The next morning, the magistrates send their lictores to the jailor with the command to “release these people” (16:35). But Paul refuses to go: He answers to the jailor (or the lictores, or both): “They give us … a public beating, us, Roman citizens convicted of no crime, then toss us into jail, and now they want to kick us out of town secretly? Not a chance! Let them come in person and remove us from jail” (16:37). In Pervo’s words, Paul confronts them “with a catalogue of official misdeeds.”75 Naturally, this catalogue of misdeeds terrifies (φοβεῖσθαι) the magistrates. Appealing (παρακαλεῖν) to Paul and Silas personally and providing them with a formal escort (ἐξαγαγόντες, cf. verse 37), they request (ἐρωτᾶν) to leave the city.76 Surprisingly, the magistrates do not mention the earthquake in the night. Many scholars have noted that logically speaking, verse 35 ought to follow directly on the heels of verse 24.77 Or in the words of Hans Conzelmann: Die “Rahmenhandlung … läuft ohne Rücksicht auf das Wunder weiter.”78 However, one has to ask whether this third ending to the story that had begun with the flogging and imprisonment of Paul and Silas indeed lacks supernatural elements.79 No doubt Paul has proved himself loyal to Roman law and officials by preventing 70  In verse 30, the D-text and P127 let the jailor first secure the other prisoners before he speaks to Paul and Silas. 71 John Chrysostom puts it like this: “He washed and was washed; he washed them from their stripes, and he himself was washed from his sins” (Hom. Acts 36.2). However, it remains unclear where the jailor is taught “the Word of God” and where his baptism takes place. This part of the narrative “seems displaced.” See Pervo, Acts, 412–13. 72 Four times in four verses. See Matson, Household, 154. 73  Cf. Acts 11:14 and 10:48. 74  This might be the reason why in D and P127 the plural form is used here, so that the missionaries might lead the jailor’s family to Lydia’s house. However, in Corinth, Paul will move from the house of Aquila and Priscilla to the house of Titus Justus (18:9). 75  Pervo, Acts, 413. 76 D and P127 have again an extended version. 77  Stefan Schreiber, Paulus als Wundertäter: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zur Apostelgeschichte und den authentischen Paulusbriefen. BZNW 79 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1996), 85. The first readers to notice this gap were the scribes of the manuscripts D and P127; they added: “reflecting upon the earthquake that had occurred, they were filled with awe ….” 78  Hans Conzelmann, Die Apostelgeschichte. HNT 7 (Tübingen: Mohr 1972), 102. 79 See also Pervo (Mystery, 64), who points to the parallel in Acts 5:35–40.

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his fellow prisoners from escaping. But why did he conceal his status as a Roman citizen when he was subjected to a shameful public beating? Paul will call attention to his status once again in a quite similar situation, when he has already been bound yet before the torture has commenced (22:25). In both incidents, citizenship let the reader assume that he is a member of the Roman elite and therefore has privileges and protection from degrading treatment. Paul’s status will turn out to be superior to that of the tribune, who commands the cohorts at Jerusalem (22:27–28). In other words, Roman citizenship functions in Acts as a literary device, not only to mark Paul’s elite status, but also to rescue him from the most dangerous situations.80 It serves as deus ex machina to save Paul at the very last moment, allowing for the missionaries to be restored to their original state. An official escort would have been a perfect way to exit the city, yet the missionaries return to Lydia’s house for a last time to “see” and “comfort” (παρακαλεῖν) the brothers and sisters there (16:40), whose existence was not previously mentioned. And one could also ask whether there was no need for a report and why the more recent “house-church” of the jailor is not honored with a last farewell.81 However, Luke said what he wanted to say with regard to Philippi.

II. Repetitions, Parallels, and Symbolism As Pervo has shown, repetition and parallel accounts are two of the prominent literary techniques in Acts.82 Chapter 16 is a conclusive example. The nightly vision (ὅραμα) is the second in a series of three that mark important turns in Paul’s career. In the first, the Lord appears to Ananias, commissioning him to restore Paul’s vision and baptize him (9:9–10). In the third, the Lord himself appears with an oracle of assurance: “Have no fear. Continue to speak and do not desist, for I am with you” (18:9–10).83 After the Macedonian man, two more heavenly figures will appear to Paul at night and lead him further on to his final destination. Arrested at Jerusalem, Paul is approached by the Lord, who assures him: “Don’t falter, for just as you have given testimony for my cause in Jerusalem, so also must you testify in Rome” (23:11). And finally, in the middle of the storm at 80 Paul’s self-presentation as an artisan (1 Thess 2:9; cf. Acts 18:3) raises serious doubts that Paul could indeed have held Roman citizenship. See Wolfgang Stegemann, “War der Apostel Paulus ein römischer Bürger?” ZNW 78 (1987): 200–229; John C. Lentz, Luke’s Portrait of Paul. SNTSMS 77 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 105–138; David Alvarez Cineira, Die Religionspolitik des Kaisers Claudius und die Paulinische Mission. HBS 19 (Freiburg: Herder, 1999), 349–70; and Pervo, Acts, 554–56. 81 D and P127 felt this need and add: “When they saw the believers, they related all that the Lord had done to them.” 82  See Pervo, Mystery, 55–74. 83 See Pervo, Acts, 453–54.

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sea, an angel will comfort him at night: “Do not be afraid, Paul, you must appear before Caesar” (27:23). Lydia is the first in a series of women of high standing who are drawn to Paul’s mission, as hers is the first in the series of household conversion stories.84 The jailor’s household will of course receive more attention. As a “God-fearer” who has gathered at a religious place only vaguely identified as Jewish, Lydia is baptized on ground that lies between the Jewish and the gentile religions. This middle ground must be traversed until Acts achieves its ultimate goal of preaching God’s salvation to the gentiles (28:28). Although a Roman of high status, the proconsul Sergius Paulus at Cyprus, had been converted right at the beginning of Paul’s missionary journeys, Philippi is the place where Paul for the first time enters an entirely gentile, namely Roman, context. The naming of Philippi – and Philippi alone – as a colonia, and as a “first” in Macedonia, indicates this view right from the beginning of the episode. While Paul will be hosted in Corinth by some Jewish refugees from Rome (18:2), he will set out for “the city of his destiny” right after the defeat of magic at Ephesus (19:13–20) and before another mob is rounded up by some other religious entrepreneurs (19:23–24).85 After gathering his first disciples, namely Silas (15:39) and Timothy (16:1–3), Paul launches his new mission, as did Jesus in Mark 1:21–28, with the exorcism of a demon that knows the truth. By exorcising the Pythonian spirit from the slave woman – his second contest with a false prophet86 – Paul, like Peter before him, confronts a “practitioner of exploitative religion.”87 The prophecy of the slave woman is not at all wrong. She, or rather her spirit, is actually the only one apart from Paul to refer to the “way” (ἡ ὁδός), Luke’s preferred trope for Christianity in Acts.88 When she or her spirit speaks of salvation (σωτηρία), she reminds the reader of Peter and John’s encounter with the Jerusalem council (4:12) and anticipates Paul’s final word at Rome (28:28): “God’s salvation (τὸ σωτήριον τοῦ θεοῦ) has been offered to the gentiles. They shall listen” (28:28). However, her encounter with Paul and Silas will lead directly to public torture and imprisonment. The miraculous event in a prison (verses 23–39) is the third in series of three, which also includes the liberation of the twelve apostles detained by the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem (Acts 5:17–41) and that of Peter, who had been  See above. Acts19:21: “In the wake of these accomplishments, Paul resolved, with the guidance of the Spirit, to travel through Macedonia and Achaea and then on to Jerusalem. ‘After I have been there,’ he said, ‘I must see Rome as well.’” As Pervo (Acts, 482–83) demonstrates, the verse is a parallel to Luke 9:51. 86  See Acts 13:6–12; 19:13–20 and above. 87  Pervo, Mystery, 68. See Acts 8:14–25. Thomas Johan Bauer (“Gestalten des Anfangs: Zur Konstruktion der Figuren des Petrus und Paulus in der Apostelgeschichte,” BZ 60 [2016]: 52–72) argues that Peter is the model, whom Paul merely imitates. But most of the chapters in Acts focus on Paul rather than Peter. 88 Cf. Acts 9:2; 18:25–26; 19:23; 22:4; 24:14, 22. 84

85 See

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confined by Herod Agrippa I (Acts 12:5–17). Many interpreters follow Otto Weinreich in perceiving analogies to liberation miracles popular in many ancient religions, and especially in the Dionysus cult. One can even list almost literal parallels to Euripides’s Bacchae:89 Like Paul, Dionysus attracts women, drives them mad, and causes them to prophesy. The god is accused of disturbing the peace of the city by introducing barbaric religious practices into Hellas and is chained and sent to the darkest corner of a prison, from which he frees himself and his singing adherents by shaking the earth with thunder and lightning.90 Some versions of the Dionysus myth also include a conversion.91 However, as Pervo has shown, desmolyta (prison escapes) are no less prominent in Jewish and early Christian writings.92 Moreover, door-opening miracles and last-minute rescues from captivity or execution are common features of ancient novels.93 Variations on this theme recur frequently in such novels, as they do in Acts.94 Yet while the prison story of Acts 16 can be called the most spectacular account in the series of three, it remains incomplete.95 God shakes the earth and breaks the shackles, but the missionaries are not ready to leave. Despite many parallels to other prison-escape stories in Acts and elsewhere, the story diverges from that about Peter. Awakened by an angel, Peter is guided out of the prison, past the sleeping prison guards and through an iron gate, and escapes.96 Paul 89  Otto Weinreich, Religionsgeschichtliche Studien (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1968), 281–341; Hintermaier, Befreiungswunder, 295–96. The parallel was already noticed by Origen, Cels. 2.34. 90  See MacDonald, “Lydia;” Matthews, First Converts, 75–85. For a list of parallels, see Weaver, Plots, 269–71; and Richard A. S. Seaford, “Thunder, Lightning and Earthquake in the Bacchae and the Acts of the Apostles,” in What is a God ? Studies in the Nature of Greek Divinity (ed. Alan B. Lloyd; London: Duckworth, 1997), 139–51, 140–42. For Seaford, thunder, lightning and earthquake are “dramatic manifestations of the helplessness of humankind before the power of nature or of deity” (147) and therefore common elements of mystic initiations. For Detlef Ziegler (Dionysos in der Apostelgeschichte – eine intertextuelle Lektüre [Berlin: Lit, 2008], 188–93), Acts 16 promotes Paul as a “new Dionysus.” 91 See Homeric Hymns to Dionysus 7.48–54. See Pervo, “Literary Genre,” 84–85. 92 L. A. B. 6:7–19; Artapanus, frag. 3 (Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.27.23–24); Acts of Paul and Thecla 27–34; Acts Thom. 106–29; 142–63, etc. See Pervo, “Genre,” 54–90; Profit with Delight: The Literary Genre of the Acts of the Apostles (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 21–24 with the list on p. 147, n. 15, and Acts, 409–11. Religious literature is also discussed by Reinhard Gregor Kratz, Rettungswunder: Motiv-, traditions‑ u. formkritische. Aufarbeitung einer biblischen Gattung (Frankfurt: P. Lang, 1979), 353–445; and Hintermaier, Befreiungswunder, 14–73. 93 See Pervo, “Genre,” 76–84; Profit, 22. Examples include Lucian, Tox. 28–33 and Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 8:34–38, but also Xenophon of Ephesus, An Ephesian Tale 3.12; 4.2–3, 6 and Chariton, Chaer. 4.2–3. 94 Pervo, Mystery, 70–74 and passim. 95  Pervo, Acts, 409. 96  Beside this obvious contrast, Pervo (Acts, 414 n. 128) lists the following parallels: “tight security (12:4–5; 16:24), the nocturnal setting (12:6; 16:25), the appearance of light in darkness (12:7; 16:29), chains that fell of (12:7; 16:26), doors that opened without human effort (12:10; 16:26), evident liability of the guards (12:19; 16:27), and the closure: both go to the home of a prominent woman convert and then go elsewhere (12:12–17; 16:27).”

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and Silas stay behind until the jailor leads them out (προάγειν ἔξω, 16:30), and the magistrates escort them (ἐξάγειν, 16:39), with honor, out of the city.97 This anomaly raises the question whether this story also has a symbolic meaning.98 Pervo argues that Acts 12:5–17 is “a symbolic portrayal of Peter’s ‘passion.’”99 Most commentators agree that there is some symbolic meaning behind the fifty-eightverse-long sea voyage recounted in 27:1–28:14. Pervo argues that these chapters are designed to show that “God vindicated Paul through deliverance from death by water and by poison.”100 Symbolic meaning might be conveyed by specific terms and narrative gaps. Being bound by the feet, for instance, could be more easily expressed (cf. 21:11). Yet in Acts 16:22–24, the author prefers to have Paul’s and Silas’s feet secured “into a block of wood.” Elsewhere in Acts, τὸ ξύλον denotes the cross.101 Earthquakes are part of the end-time scenario in early Christian literature,102 the resurrection marking the beginning of the end of time,103 an event that opens doors elsewhere (Mark 16:3). Like Paul, Jesus and Stephen shout their final word in a loud voice.104 Who, after such a scenario, would not thirst for baptism and salvation? A meal at a table shared in great joy (16:34) recalls Jesus’s Last Supper in Luke 22 and the realized utopia of the first believers at Jerusalem in post-Pentecost times.105 And when the missionaries slip one final time through the city gate to comfort the brothers and sisters at Lydia’s house (16:40), one is reminded not only of Peter’s farewell at the house of John Mark’s mother (Acts 12:17) but also of some post-resurrection appearances elsewhere.106 However, compared to Acts 12, allusions to passion and resurrection are less frequent in this chapter. Another symbolic reading seems to me more obvious. Having been called at night to the colonia Philippi, as he will later be called to Rome (23:11; 27:23–24), Paul is arrested by Roman officials for the first time. This arrest is brutal, and the narrator devotes three verses (22–24) to the details of humiliation, torture, and

 97  προάγειν is used elsewhere in a juridical sense: bring before a tribunal (Acts 12:6; 17:5; 27:26).  98 For symbolic meaning in opposition to allegorical reading, see Pervo, Mystery, 93–101.  99  Pervo, Acts, 301–13, quotation from 302; Mystery, 101–6. 100  Pervo, Mystery, 110. For a list of parallels between Jesus’s and Paul’s passion in Acts 21–26, see Pervo, Mystery, 68. 101  See Acts 5:30; 10:39; 13:29. The expression is elsewhere known as an instrument of torture. See Chariton, Chaer. 4.2.6 and Lucian, Tox. 29. Pervo, Acts, 400. 102 Mark 13:8, 26; Matt 24:7, 26; Luke 21:11, 26. 103  Matt 28:2; cf. 8:24; 27:54; and Mark 16:3. 104  See Luke 23:46: φωνήσας φωνῇ μεγάλῃ; Acts 7: 60: ἔκραξεν φωνῇ μεγάλη; 16:28: ἐφώνησεν δὲ μεγάλῃ φωνῇ. 105  The trope τράπεζα refers to a meal only in Luke 20:21 and 30 and Acts 16:25. For ἀγγαλιάζειν, see Acts 2:26 (quote from Ps 15:8–11 LXX as David’s prophesy about the risen Christ) and 2:46. 106 See also Pervo, Acts, 415.

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severe bondage.107 The one to come lasts from 21:33 to 28:31, but is comparatively benign: his claim of Roman citizenship protects Paul from being tortured (22:29–30), never again will he see the inside of a Roman jail. Instead, he will be held in barracks (παρεμβολή, 21:34, 37; 22:24; 23:10, 16, 32) at the governor’s palace in Caesarea (23:35); later the conditions of his custody will become even lighter (ἂνεσις, 24:23), until he is finally allowed to stay first with a leading citizen of Malta and then at his own home in Rome, with just one remaining guard (28:17).108 However, at the end of the story, his liberation is still pending. To be sure, the governors Felix (23:19) and Festus and King Agrippa (26:31) will agree that “there is nothing that deserves execution or incarceration.”109 But Paul remains a prisoner and never will be free again. However, Acts elsewhere implies that Paul died in a Roman prison.110 What cannot be narrated in the context of Paul’s final visit to Rome is told in Acts 16: in Philippi, Paul suffers severe torture in prison and yet is finally set free. Roman “magistrates sent their police escort with the message: ‘Let those people go.’” (16:35). No reasons are given. They simply changed their mind. Yet when informed that their prisoners are in fact their own peers, they escort them to the next city in a manner worthy of a Roman citizen.111 Paul’s first sojourn in this “miniature copy of Rome” anticipates his last. Paul’s visit to the colonia Augusta Iulia Philippensis is the proleptic preview to his final encounter with Rome, but this preview has an even better ending.112

107 Acts is not the only early Christian writing from the second century to connect Paul’s sufferings and even martyrdom with Philippi. See Standhartinger, “The Beloved Community after Paul: Early Christianity in Philippi from the 2nd to the 4th Century,” in Philippi, from colonia augusta to communitas christiana: Religion and Society in Transition (eds. Steven J. Friesen, Daniel N. Schowalter, and Michalis Lychounas; Leiden: Brill, forthcoming 2017). 108  Paul’s conditions are better than those Josephus describes for the Jewish prince Agrippa (Ant. 18.188–227), a source that might have inspired Luke. Cf. Pervo, Acts, 678 n. 80. Cf. Dating, 149–99. See also Standhartinger, “Letter from Prison as Hidden Transcript: What it tells us about the people at Philippi,” in The People beside Paul: The Philippian Assembly and History from Below (ed. Joseph A. Marchal; Atlanta: SBL Press 2015), 107–40. 109 Paul also declares himself innocent before the Jews at Rome: “After investigating the case, they wished to release me, since I had committed no capital crime” (28:18). 110  See the three passion predictions: Acts 20:23–25; 21:4; 21:11–13. 111 Kratz (Rettungswunder, 499) calls Acts 16 a “Meilenstein auf dem Weg zum ἀκωλύτως am Ende des Buches.” For some parallels, see also Hintermaier (Befreiungswunder, 285–86) and, of course, Pervo, Luke’s Story, 60; and Acts, 551–53. 112 A preview to the following events and their happy ending is presented by Xenophon of Ephesus in An Ephesian Tale 1.6, as an oracle from Apollo at Colophon. In other Greek novels, an ekphrasis at the beginning anticipates the following plots. See Longus, Daphn. Prologue; and Achilles Tatius, Leuc. Clit. 1.1.2–1.2.3. On this technique in epic writings, see Stephen J. Harrison, “Picturing the Future: The proleptic ekphrasis from Homer to Vergil,” in Texts, Ideas, and the Classics: Scholarship, Theory, and Classical Literature (ed. Stephen J. Harrison; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 70–92.

II. Complete Bibliography: Richard I. Pervo

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016 1975  1. “The Testament of Joseph and Greek Romance.” Pages 15–28 in Studies on the Testament of Joseph, ed. G. Nickelsburg, Jr., Missoula, MO: Scholars, 1975.

1976  2. “Joseph and Aseneth and the Greek Novel.” Pages 171–81 in SBLSP 1976, ed. G. MacRae, Missoula, MO: Scholars, 1976.   3. Review of R. Tannehill, The Sword of His Mouth, Virginia Seminary Journal 28 (1976): 23.

1977   4. Review of E. Ellis, The Gospel of Luke, ATR 59 (1977): 107–8.   5. Review of W. Gasque, A History of the Criticism of the Acts of the Apostles, ATR 59 (1977): 108–12.   6. Review of W. Kelber, The Kingdom in Mark, ATR 59 (1977): 465–66.

1978   7. Review of David F. Strauss, The Christ of Faith and the Jesus of History: A Critique of Schleiermacher’s Life of Jesus, ed. L. Keck, Virginia Seminary Journal 30 (1978): 34–35.   8. Review of N. Perrin, A Modern Pilgrimage in New Testament Christology, ATR 60 (1978): 213–14.   9. Review of H. Harris, The Tübingen School, ATR 60 (1978): 222–23.

1979 10. (With W. Carl) Proclamation 2: Epiphany C. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979. 11. “Johannine Traditions in the Acts of John,” paper read at Midwest Patristics Seminar, South Bend, IN, 12 May 1979.

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Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

1980 12. Review of D. Sparks, ed., The Apostolic Fathers, RSR 6 (1980): 235. 13. Review of C. Talbert, What is a Gospel? ATR 62 (1980): 285.

1981 14. “Evening What?” Visitor 96 (1981): 3–4, 7. 15. “I Clement and the Origin of II Corinthians,” paper read at Midwest Patristics Seminar, Evanston, IL, 13 November 1981. 15a. Different version read at Pauline Epistles Section, SBL Annual Meeting, New York, 20 December 1981. 16. Review of X. Leon-Dufour, Dictionary of the New Testament, Living Church (1981): 5. 17. Review of H. Boers, What is New Testament Theology? ATR 63 (1981): 204–5. 18. Review of S. Davies, Revolt of the Widows ATR 63 (1981): 329–30. 19. Review of M. Hengel, Acts and the History of Earliest Christianity, ATR 63 (l981): 92–93. 20. Review of S. Davies, Revolt of the Widows, Anglican 11 (1981): 14.

1982 21. “Holy Week and Our Church,” Visitor 97 (1982): 1–4. 22. “The Choral Office,” Cantate Domino (1982): 3–5. 23. “Reading the Bible in Church,” Living Church (1982): 12–13. 23a. Reprinted several times in other publications. 24. Review of W. Countryman, The Rich Christian in the Church of the Early Empire, ATR 64 (l982): 238–39. 25. Review of M. Hengel, Jews, Greeks, and Barbarians, ATR 64 (1982): 237–38. 26. Review of S. Davies, Revolt of the Widows, SecCent 2 (1982): 47–49. 27. Review of P. Hanson, The Diversity of Scripture, The Living Church, 10 (1982): 6, 16. 28. Review of E. Käsemann, Commentary on Romans, ATR 64 (1982): 401–3. 29. Review of A. Mattill, Luke and the Last Things, ATR 64 (1982): 98–99. 30. Review of D. Tiede, Prophecy and History in Luke-Acts, ATR 64 (1982): 99–100. 31. Review of B. Metzger, ed., The Readers Digest Bible, The Living Church (1982): 28–29. 31a. Longer edition of above in ATR 65 (1982): 214–17. 32. Review of J. Nunnally-Coxe, Foremothers, The Anglican 12 (1982): 16.

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33. Review of C. Smith, ed., A Prayer Book Manual, The Anglican 12 (1982): 13–14. 33a. Reprinted in Open (1982): 7–8. 34. Review of E. Shelp, R. Sunderland, eds., A Biblical Basis for Ministry, Perkins Journal 36 (1982): 30–1. 35. Review of H. Attridge and R. Odean, eds., Philo of Byblus, RSR 9 (1982): 381–82. 36. Review of E. Hinson, The Evangelization of the Roman Empire, RSR 9 (1982): 382.

1983 37. “Ashes to Fire,” The Visitor, 98 (1983): 2–3. 38. “The Sermon in its Setting,” Living Church (1983): 13. 38a. This piece was reprinted several times in different publications. 39. “How Many Words are there for Love?” Paper at Faculty Colloquy, Evanston, IL, 4 February 1983. 40. Review of D. Hagner and M. J. Harris, eds., Pauline Studies: Essays Presented to Professor F. F. Bruce on His 70th Birthday, Virginia Seminary Journal 35 (1983): 34–35. 41. Written response to J. Fennelly “The Jerusalem Community and Kashrut Shatnes,” AAR-SBL Annual Meeting, Dallas, TX, 20 December 1983.

1984 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50.

“Entertainment and Early Christian Literature,” Explore 7 (1984): 29–39. “Meditation for St. Luke’s Day,” Visitor 99 (November 1984): 7. Review of F. Borsch, Power in Weakness, Living Church (1984): 12. Review of D. Groh and R. Gregg, Early Arianism, ATR 66 (1984): 103–4. Review of H. Koester, Introduction to the New Testament, ATR 66 (1984): 198–99. Review of A. Wilder, Jesus’ Parables and the War of Myths, ATR 66 (1984): 102–3. Review of J. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke, I–IX, ATR 66 (1984): 443–45. Review of J. B. Lightfoot, The Christian Ministry, ATR 66 (1984): 311–12. “Petronius and the Social World of Early Christianity,” Paper read at Social World of Early Christianity Section, SBL Annual Meeting, Chicago, IL, 20 December 1984.

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1985 51. “Social and Religious Aspects of the Western Text,” Pages 229–41 in D. Groh and R. Jewett, eds. The Living Text: E. W. Saunders Festschrift. Ann Arbor, MI: University Press of America, 1985. 52. “Matthean Studies Revived,” Crossroads 15 (1985): 15–17. 53. “Wisdom and Power: Petronius’ Satyricon and the Social World of Early Christianity,” paper read at Faculty Colloquy, Evanston, February 1985, 53a. Published ATR 67 (1985): 307–25. 54. Response to C. Osiek, Rich and Poor in the Shepherd of Hermas, North American Patristics Society Annual Meeting, Chicago, IL, 20 May 1985. 55. Review of A. Kavanaugh, Elements of Rite, Anglican 15 (1985): 7. 56. Review of G. Theissen, The Miracle Stories of the Early Christian Tradition, ATR 67 (1985): 95–99. 57. Review of H. Kee, Miracle in the Early Christian World, ibid. 58. Review of C. Brown, Miracle and the Critical Mind, ibid. 59. Review of P. Richardson and J. Hurd, eds., From Jesus to Paul, ATR 67 (1985): 99. 60. Review of F. Beare, The Gospel according to Matthew, ATR 67 (1985): 280–81. 61. Review of A. Wallace-Hadrill, Christian Antioch, RSR 5 (1985): 51–52. 62. Review of G. Anderson, Eros Sophistes, SecCent 5 (1985–86): 51–52. 63. Review of J. Crossan, Four Other Gospels, ATR 67 (1985): 372–73. 64. Review of W. Temple, Readings in St. John’s Gospel, Anglican 15 (1985): 16.

1986 65. 66. 67. 68.

“The Presence of Christ in the Eucharist,” Visitor 101 (1986): 6. “The Lenten Array,” Visitor 101 (1986): 6. “Rising with Christ,” Visitor 101 (1986): 8. Review of F. J. Moloney, Woman First among the Faithful, Living Church (1986): 11. 69. “The Sign of the Cross,” Visitor 101 (1986): 5. 70. “Advent Morning Prayer,” Visitor 101 (1986): 8.

1987 71. Review of J. Crossan, Sayings Parallels, Living Church (1987): 5. 72. “The Social and Economic Setting of the Feeding Stories,” paper read at Faculty Colloquy, 4 May 1987. 73. Proclamation 3: Lesser Festivals 3. Philadelphia: Fortress.

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74. Profit with Delight: The Literary Genre of the Acts of the Apostles. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987. 75. Review of L. Weil, Gathered to Pray, Anglican 17 (1987): 14–15. 76. Review of B. Layton, The Gnostic Scriptures, Living Church (1987): 6. 77. “The Role of Aseneth: A Feminist Perspective,” paper read at Hellenistic Judaism Section, SBL Annual Meeting, Boston, MA, 8 December 1987. 78. Review of G. Nickelsburg and G. MacRae, eds., Christians among Jews and Gentiles: K. Stendahl Festschrift, ATR 69 (1987): 301–2. 79. Review of E. Haenchen, John 1, John 2, ATR 69 (1987): 300–1. 80. Review of V. Robbins, Jesus the Teacher, ATR 69 (1987): 389–91. 81. Review of C. Caragounis, The Son of Man, ATR 69 (1987): 389–91.

1988 82. “Old Testament-New Testament and Ancient Prose Fiction,” Petronian Society Newsletter 18 (1988): 3. 83. “Read Mark and Learn,” Crossroads 18 (1988): 8–9. 84. “Rose among Thorns,” paper read at Anglican-Roman Catholic Marian Year Conference for scholars, Chicago, IL, 2 February 1988. 85. “Ecumenical Reflection,” Living Church (1988): 10. 86. Review of R. Grant, Gods and the One God, JR 68 (1988): 286–87. 87. Review of D. Georgi, Paul’s Opponents in Second Corinthians, ATR 70 (1988): 101–3. 88. Review of M. DeJonge, Christology in Context, Living Church (1988): l6. 89. “Was Ancient Judaism a Missionary Religion?” Paper read at Hellenistic Judaism Section, SBL Annual Meeting, Boston, MA, 19 November 1987. 90. Review of A. Logan and A. Wedderburn, eds., The New Testament and Gnosis: Essays in Honour of Robert McL. Wilson. SecCent 6 (1987–88): 242–243. 91. Review of H. Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles, ATR 70 (1988): 364–65.

1989 92. “Social and Economic Contexts and Functions of the Miraculous Feeding Stories,” paper read at Midwest Regional SBL, Evanston, IL, 11 January 1989. 93. Review of H. Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles, Int 43 (1989): 187–88. 94. Review of V. Burrus, Chastity as Autonomy, CBQ 51 (1989): 364–65. 95. Review of R. Tannehill, The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts, Vol. 1, Virginia Seminary Journal 41 (1989): 42.

252

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

96. “Bread from Heaven: The Feeding Stories in Social and Theological Perspective,” paper read at annual meeting of the North American Patristics Society, 23 May 1989. 97. “Must Luke and Acts Belong to the Same Genre?” Pages 309–16 in SBLSP 1989, ed. D. J. Lull, Atlanta: Scholars, 1989. 98. Prepared responses to five published papers on Judith, Pseudepigrapha Section, SBL Annual Meeting, Anaheim, CA, 21 November 1989. (Essays were published as “No One Spoke Ill of Her.” Ed. J. VanderKam. Scholars: Chico, CA, 1992.) 99. Review of V. Burrus, Chastity as Autonomy, CRBR (1989): 300–1.

1990 100. Luke’s Story of Paul. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990. 100a. Repr. April, 1991. 100b. Reprinted by Parthenon Press, September, 1996. 101. “Putting on the Armor of Light,” Visitor 105 (1990): 3. 102. “Probing the Anthropology of Luke and Acts,” paper read to Graduate Seminar, Baylor University, Waco, TX, 4 May 1990. 102a. Revised edition of above read to ACTS NT Group, Villa Park, IL, 21 May 1990. 103. “Liturgical Posture and Gesture,” Visitor 105 (1990): 2. 104. “A Good Question,” Crossroads 20.3 (1990): 10. 105. Proclamation 4. Holy Week. Series B. Minneapolis: Fortress. 106. “Recent Revisions of Bible Versions,” Visitor 105 (1990): 3. 107. “Johannine Traditions in The Acts of John,” paper for the Intertextuality in Christian Apocrypha Seminar, SBL Annual Meeting, New Orleans, LA, 17 November 1990. 108. Prepared response to four papers and participation in “Panel on Post-classical Prose Narrative in its Social Context,” Annual Meeting of the American Philological Association, San Francisco, CA, 30 December 1990.

1991 109. “Recent Work on the New Testament and Early Christianity,” Crossroads 21.1 (1990): 19–20. 110. “The Dead Sea Scrolls: Scandal, Puzzle, and Thriller,” Visitor 106 (1991): 1–2. 111. “A Practical Look at the Newest Translation,” [a review of the NRSV] Anglican Advance 104 (1991): 4.

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

253

112. Review of F. Hughes, Early Christian Rhetoric and 2 Thessalonians, ATR 73 (1991): 209–11. 113. “A Corpus Christi.” Visitor 106.5 (1991): 4–5. 114. Review of D. Rouleau, L’Epitre apocryphe de Jacques (NH I,2) and Louise Roy, L’Acte de Pierre (BG), BCNH 18, SecCent 8 (1991): 55–56. 115. Review of B. Thurston, The Widows: A Women’s Ministry in the Early Church. ATR 73 (1991): 332–33. 116. Review of F. Martin, Narrative Parallels to the New Testament, CBQ 53 (1991): 500. 117. Review of W. Schneemelcher, ed., Neutestamentliche Apokryphen, 2 Vols., SecCent 8 (1991): 184–86. 118. “Aseneth and Her Sisters: Women in Jewish Narrative and in the Greek Novels.” Pages 145–60 in A.-J. Levine, ed. “‘Women like This.’ New Perspectives on Jewish Women in the Greco-Roman World. SBLEJL 1. Atlanta: Scholars, 1991. 119. Review of S. Garrett, Demise of the Devil, JBL 110 (1991): 532–34. 120. “The Acts of Andrew and Early Christian Asceticism,” brief presentation in the Intertextuality in Christian Apocrypha Seminar, AAR-SBL Annual Meeting, Kansas City, MO, 24 November 1991. 121. “With Lucian: Who Needs Friends? Lucian’s Story of Friendship (the Toxaris),” paper read at Hellenistic Moral Philosophy and Early Christianity Consultation, AAR-SBL Annual Meeting, Kansas City, MO, 25 November 1991. 122. Review of D. Moessner, Lord of the Banquet, VirSemJrnl 43 (1991): 69–70. 123. Review of J. Jeffers, Conflict at Rome, SecCent 8 (1991): 255–56.

1992 124. “A Tale of Two Centurions: Ancient Judaism and Missionary Religion,” Presented to ACTS NT Group, Chicago, IL, 21 January 1992. 125. Review of G. Luedemann, Opposition to Paul in Jewish Christianity, ATR 74 (1992): 104–6. 126. Review of H. Räisänen, The Messianic Secret in Mark’s Gospel. Patristics 20 (1992): 3. 127. Review of B. Egger, “Constructing the Feminine,” Petronian Society Newsletter 22 (1992): 9–10. 128. “Proclaiming Luke after Redaction Criticism,” Crossroads 22 (1992): 15– 16. 129. “Romans and 2 Corinthians as Early Patristic Texts,” at the Annual Meeting of the North American Patristics Society, Loyola University, Chicago, IL, 28 May 1992.

254

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

130. “On Perilous Things”: A Response to Beverly R. Gaventa. Pages 37–43 in M. C. Parsons and J. Tyson, eds., Cadbury, Knox, and Talbert. American Contributions to the Study of Acts. Society of Biblical Literature Centennial Publications. Atlanta: Scholars, 1992. 131. “Meditation for Corpus Christi,” Saltire (1992): 1. 132. Review of J. D. Kingsbury, Conflict in Luke. Living Church (1992): 12. 133. Review of H. Richards, The Gospel according to St. Paul, Living Church, (1992): 12. 134. Review of B. P. Reardon, Collected Ancient Greek Novels, SecCent 9 (1992): 118–19. 135. Prepared Responses to six papers for conference on “Christians in Second Century Rome,” Amherst College, Amherst, MA, 9–10 October 1992. 136. Review of D. R. MacDonald, The Acts of Andrew and The Acts of Andrew and Matthias in the City of the Cannibals, CBQ 54 (1992): 579–80. 137. “Romancing an Oft-Rejected Stone: The Pastoral Epistles and the Epistolary Novel,” for the Consultation on Ancient Fiction and Early Christian and Jewish Narrative, SBL Annual Meeting, San Francisco, CA, 21 November 1992. 138. “Johannine Trajectories in the Acts of John,” Apocrypha 3 (1992): 47–68 (substantial revision of 108).

1993 139. “Boys Will Be Boys: A Written Response to B. Reid, ‘Separating the Women from the Men: Discipleship in Luke-Acts,’” ACTS NT Group, Chicago, IL, 5 May 1993. 140. “The Reserved Sacrament and the Eucharistic Life of the Church,” Visitor 108 (1993): 1–2. 141. “Doing the Write Thing: A Response to C. Osiek, ‘The Oral World of the First Christians at Rome,’” SNTS Annual Meeting, Chicago, IL, August 11, 1993. 142. Review of J. Reumann. Variety and Unity in New Testament Thought, ATR 75 (1993): 402–03. 143. (With M. Parsons) Rethinking the Unity of Luke and Acts. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993. 143a. Reprinted with correction and updated bibliography, 2007. 144. Review of A. Yarbro Collins, The Beginning of the Gospel. STRev 36 (1993): 558–60. 145. “Juggling Acts: Orientations and Principles,” paper delivered at Intertextuality in the Christian Apocrypha Seminar, SBL Annual Meeting, Washington, D. C., 22 November 1993.

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255

146. Review of C. M. Robeck, Jr., Prophecy in Carthage: Perpetua, Tertullian, and Cyprian, ATR 75 (1993): 569–71. 147. Review of R. N. McMichael, ed., Creation and Liturgy. In Honor of H. Boone Porter, Open 39.3 (1993): 11. 148. Review of Robert M. Grant, Jesus After the Gospels. The Christ of the Second Century, Virginia Seminary Journal 45 (1993): 70–71.

1994 149. “What’s Wrong with Which Picture?” A response to M. M. Mitchell, “The Archetypal Image: John Chrysostom’s Portraits of Paul,” ACTS NT Group, Chicago, IL, 8 March 1994. 150. “Paul Remains a Living Influence: Features of Deutero-Paulinisms,” guest paper at the NT Graduate Seminar, Baylor University, Waco, TX, 21 March 1994. 151. “Confirmation Then and Now,” Visitor 109 (1994): 3. 152. “Early Christian Fiction.” Pages 239–54 in J. R. Morgan and R. Stoneman, eds., Greek Fiction: The Greek Novel in Context. London: Routledge, 1994. 153. “PANTA KOINA: The Feeding Stories in the Light of Economic Data and Social Practice.” Pages 164–94 in L. Bormann et al. eds., Religious Propaganda and Missionary Competition in the New Testament World. Festschrift for Dieter Georgi. NovTSup Leiden: Brill, 1994. 154. Proclamation 5: Series C. Lent. Minneapolis: Fortress Press. 155. Review of R. Burridge, What Are the Gospels? Luke-Acts session of International SBL, Leuven, 9 August 1994. 156. “The Pastoral Epistles and the Epistolary Novel,” (revised and expanded edition of 137) for section on NT and Ancient Romances, International SBL, Leuven, 10 August 1994. 157. “A Hard Act to Follow? The Acts of Paul in the Light of the Canonical Acts,” paper for SBL Seminar on Intertextuality in Christian Apocrypha, SBL Annual Meeting, Chicago, IL, 19 November 1994. 158. “Coming down from the Cross (?): An Early Christian Reads An Ephesian Tale,” paper for Ancient Fiction and Early Jewish and Christian Literature, SBL Annual Meeting, Chicago, IL, 21 November 1994. 159. Review of D. MacDonald, Christianizing Homer, seminar on Intertextuality in the Christian Apocrypha, SBL Annual Meeting, Chicago, IL, 19 November 1994. 160. “Romancing an Oft-neglected Stone: The Pastoral Epistles and the Epistolary Novel,” Journal of Higher Criticism 1 (1994) 25–47 (publ. ed. of 137, rev. and expanded, but not identical with 156).

256

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

161. Review of M. Soards, The Speeches in Acts: Their Content, Context, and Concerns, ATR 76 (1994): 526–27. 162. “What Should a Well-Dressed Emperor Wear? An Early Christian Reading of the Alexander-Romance,” American Philological Association Annual Meeting, Atlanta, GA, 29 December 1994.

1995 163. “The Romance of They Rose: Crucifiction, Empty Tomb, and Resurrection in Ancient Fiction,” paper for Seabury-Western Faculty Seminar, 23 January 1995. 164. “Qualis Artifex Non Periit: Paul between Nero and Commodus,” paper for ACTS NT Group, Chicago, IL, 26 January 1995. 165. Review of M. L. Soards, The Speeches in Acts. Int 49 (1995): 316. 166. Review of G. Downing, Cynics and Christian Origins, JECS 3 (1995): 62–64. 167. Review of W. Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, Bib 76 (1995): 262–65. 168. Review of J. Crossan, Who Killed Jesus? Anglican Advance 104 (1995): 4. (Review won “Award of Excellence for special achievement in Church Communications” from the Episcopal Communicators, 28 June 1996.) 169. Review of L. Alexander, The Preface to Luke’s Gospel, JBL 114 (1995): 522–24. 170. Review of Dennis MacDonald, Christianizing Homer, Journal of Religion, 75 (1995): 557–58. 171. “‘A Nihilist Fabula’: Introducing the Life of Aesop,” paper for Ancient Fiction and Early Jewish and Christian Literature Group, SBL, Philadelphia, PA, 19 November 1995. 172. “‘Natural Seaology’: A Response to C. H. Talbert and J. H. Hayes, ‘A Theology of Sea Storms in Luke-Acts,’” for SBL Luke-Acts Seminar, Philadelphia, PA 19 November 1995. 173. Review of L. Leloir, Ecrits apocryphes sur les apotres: Traduction de l’édition arménienne de Venise. Tome 2. CBQ 57 (1995): 401–2. 174. “A Hard Act to Follow: The Acts of Paul and the Canonical Acts,” Journal of Higher Criticism 2.2 (1995): 3–32 (thoroughly revised and expanded edition of 157). 175. Review of D. W. J. Gill and C. Gempf, eds. The Book of Acts in its First Century Setting, Volume 2: Graeco-Roman Setting, CBQ 57 (1995): 840– 42. 176. Review of W. Schneemelcher, ed., New Testament Apocrypha, Vol. 1. CRBR (1994): 256–58.

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177. Review of G. Sterling, Historiography and Self-Definition, JSP 7 (1995): 108–10.

1996 178. Review of L. Wills, The Jewish Novel in the Ancient World, ATR 78 (1996): 159–161. 179. “Crucifixion: Passion, Tomb, Resurrection and Recognition in Ancient Fiction,” Plenary address at the Rocky Mountain / ​Great Plains Regional Meeting of The AAR-SBL, Denver, CO, 26 April 1996 (revised and abbreviated version of 163). 180. “Charge ‘Er: The Death of John: a Jewish Court Novella,” Rocky Mountain / ​Great Plains Regional AAR-SBL, Denver, CO, 27 April 1997. 181. Review of D. W. J. Gill and C. Gempf, eds. The Book of Acts in its First Century Setting, Volume 2: Graeco-Roman Setting, JECS 4 (1996): 255–56. 182. “The Ancient Novel Becomes Christian.” Pages 685–711 in The Novel in the Ancient World, ed. G. Schmeling. Mnemosyne Supplementum 159. Leiden: Brill, 1996. 182a. Revised. Leiden: Brill, 2003. 183. Review of H. W. Tajra, The Martyrdom of St. Paul, CBQ 58 (1996): 565–67. 184. Review of T. Seland, Establishment Violence in Luke and Philo, SPhiloA 8 (1996): 208–10. 185. “The Acts of Titus: A Preliminary Translation, with an Introduction and Notes.” Pages 455–82 in SBL Seminar Papers 1996. Atlanta: Scholars: 1996. 186. “The Conversion of Aseneth,” a response (typed and distributed) to four recent books on Joseph and Aseneth, Pseudepigrapha Section, SBL Annual Meeting, New Orleans, LA, 25 November 1996. 187. Review of J. A. Harrill, Manumission of Slaves in Early Christianity. JECS 4 (1996): 546–47. 188. Review of P.-H. Poirier, La Version copte del la prédication et du martyre de Thomas. avec une Contribution codicologique au Corpus copte des Acta Apostolorum Apocrypha par Enzo Lucchesi. JECS 4 (1996): 593.

1997 189. “With Lucian: Who Needs Friends? Friendship in the Toxaris.” Pages 163–80 in J. Fitzgerald, ed., Greco-Roman Perspectives on Friendship. Atlanta: Scholars, 1997 (rev. ed. of 121). 190. Proclamation 6: Epiphany C. Minneapolis: Fortress. 191. Review of J. N. Bremmer, ed., The Apocryphal Acts of John, CBQ 59 (1997): 184–85.

258

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

192. Review of P. Q. Beeching, Awkward Reverence: Reading the New Testament Today, TLC (1997): 27. 193. Review of R. Brawley, Text to Text Pours Forth Speech JR 77 (1997): 612– 13. 194. Review of G. Vermes, The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English, TLC 12 (1997): 23–24. 195. “Rhetoric in the Christian Apocrypha.” Pages 793–805 in S. Porter, ed., A Handbook of Classical Rhetoric in the Hellenistic Period 330 B. C.-A. D. 400. Leiden: Brill, 1997. 196. Review of G. W. Bowersock, Fiction as History, in Ancient Fiction and Early Christian and Jewish Narrative Group, SBL Annual Meeting, San Francisco, CA, 22 November 1997. 197. “Narrative Theology: Two (Too?) Enlightened Theologians: Artapanus and Lucas,” paper in Luke-Acts Group, SBL Annual Meeting, San Francisco, CA, 23 November 1997. 198. “The So-Called Protevangelium of James in the Windy Cave of Early Christian Fiction,” paper in Ancient Fiction and Early Christian and Jewish Narrative Group, SBL Annual Meeting, San Francisco, CA, 24 November 1997. 199. Review of M. Turner, Power from on High, Bib 78 (1997): 427–32. 200. Review of B. J. Malina and J. H. Neyrey, Portraits of Paul, CBQ 59 (1997): 777–78.

1998 201. “A Nihilist Fabula: Introducing the Life of Aesop.” Pages 77–120 in R. F. Hock, J. Chance, and J. Perkins, eds., Ancient Fiction and Early Christian Narrative. SBLSS 6. Atlanta: Scholars, 1998 (rev. and expanded ed. of 171). 202. Review of John Painter, Just James. STR 42 (1998): 104–6. 203. Review of O. W. Allen, Jr., The Death of Herod: The Narrative and Theological Function of Retribution in Luke-Acts CBQ 60 (1998): 355–56.

1999 204. M. Williams and D. Smith, eds., vol. 12 of The Storyteller’s Companion to the Bible. Stories about the Apostles: Acts of the Apostles (introduction, commentary on most of text and other matter). 205. “Crucifiction: Passion, Tomb, and … in Ancient Narrative,” paper for ACTS NT Meeting. Chicago, IL, 11 May 1999.

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

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206. “Apocrypha, New Testament.” Pages 44–48 in J. H. Hayes, ed., Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation, Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1999. 207. Review of William Hansen, ed., Anthology of Ancient Greek Popular Literature. Petronian Society Newsletter 29.1–2 (1999): 6. 208. “Petronius,” Petronian Society Newsletter 29.1–2 (1999): 8. 209. Review of Ben Witherington, The Acts of the Apostles: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary. JBL 118 (1999): 364–66. 210. “Egging on the Chickens: A Cowardly Response to Dennis MacDonald and Then Some.” Pages 43–56 in Robert F. Stoops, ed., The Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles in Intertextual Perspectives, Semeia 80 (1997). 211. “Die Entführung in das Serail: Aspasia: A Female Aesop,” paper read at the Trial Balloon Society, St. Paul, MN, 2 November 1999. 211b. Rev. ed. of above at Ancient Fiction and Early and Jewish and Christian Literature Group, SBL Annual Meeting, Boston, MA, 21 November 1999. 212. “Israel’s Heritage and Claims upon the Genre(s) of Luke and Acts: The Problems of a History.” Pages 127–43 in D. P. Moessner, ed., Jesus and the Heritage of Israel: Luke’s Narrative Claim upon Israel’s Legacy. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1999. 213. “Bridging a Vast Chasm Improving Acts: A Non-invidious Comparison of Acts and the Acts of Peter,” paper for the Luke-Acts Group, SBL Annual Meeting, Boston, MA, 22 November 1999. 214. Review of P. Comfort and D. Barrett, eds., The Complete Text of the Earliest New Testament Manuscripts. CurTM 26 (1999): 474.

2000 215. “My Happy Home: Beginning at / ​from Jerusalem,” paper on Luke and Acts for the Acts Seminar, Santa Rosa, CA, 4 March 2000. 216. “Damaris.” Page 65 in Women in Scripture, ed. Carol Meyers et al. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2000, 65. 217. “Joanna.” Pages 102–3 in Women in Scripture, ed. Carol Meyers et al. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2000. 218. “Rhoda.” Page 145 in Women in Scripture, ed. Carol Meyers et al. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2000. 219. “Sapphira.” Pages 149–50 in Women in Scripture, ed. Carol Meyers et al. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2000. 220. “Susanna.” Pages 158–59 in Women in Scripture, ed. Carol Meyers et al. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2000. 221. “(Luke 8:3) Unnamed Women Who Provide for the Jesus Movement.” Pages 441–43 in Women in Scripture, ed. Carol Meyers et al. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2000.

260

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

222. “(Acts 16:16–18) Slave Girl Healed of a Spirit.” Page 464 in Women in Scripture, ed. Carol Meyers et al. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2000. 223. “(Acts 21:9) Four Unmarried Daughters of Philip.” Pages 467–68 in Women in Scripture, ed. Carol Meyers et al. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2000. 224. “Dysangelion: Or A Woman’s Place. The story of Philinnion and its Relation to Ancient Fiction and Jewish and Christian Writings,” paper at ICAN 2000, Groningen, 26 July 2000. 225. “Meet Right – and Our Bounden Duty: Meetings and Assemblies in Acts,” paper in Acts Seminar, Santa Rosa, CA, 7 October 2000. 226. “Wanted: Paul, Dead or Alive,” inaugural lecture for Sundet Family Chair of New Testament and Christian Studies, Department of Classical and Near Eastern Studies, College of Liberal Arts, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, MN, 19 October 2000. 227. “The Pastoral Epistles.” Pages 1014–15 in Eerdmans Dictionary of the Bible, ed. David N. Freedman. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000. 228. “Dis You Topia” Aristeas and 3 Maccabees as Works of Fiction,” paper given in Ancient Fiction and Early Jewish and Christian Narrative Section, SBL Annual Meeting, Nashville, TN, 20 November 2000. 229. “Grant, Frederick Clifton.” Pages 3:1250 in RGG4. Ed. H. D. Betz et al. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000. 230. “My Happy Home: The Role of Jerusalem in Acts 1–7,” Forum N. S.  3.1 (2000): 31–55 (rev. version of 213).

2001 231 “Mamalujo Minus Ma: Some Sources of Acts,” paper in Acts Seminar, Santa Rosa, CA, March 2001. 232. Review of G. Gamba, P. Arbitro and I. Cristiani: Ipotesi per una lettura Contestual del Satyricon. BSR 141. Petronian Society Newsletter 31 (2001): 1–2. 233. “Meet Right  – and Our Bounden Duty,” Forum N. S. 4.1 (2001): 45–62 (printed ed. of 224).

2002 234. Review of Vahan Hovhannessian, Third Corinthians: Reclaiming Paul for Christian Orthodoxy, JR 82 (2002): 101–3. 235. “Dating Acts,” paper in Acts Seminar, Santa Rosa, CA, 19 October 2002.

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2003 236. “Profitable Prefaces or Delightful Proems: The Prefaces to Luke and Acts in the Context of Ancient Fiction,” paper at conference “Luke and Mimesis: Imitations of Classical Literature in Luke-Acts,” Institute for Antiquity and Christianity, Claremont, CA, 14 March 2003. 237. “What Athens Has to Do with Jerusalem: The Speeches in Acts as Historical Record,” paper in Acts Seminar, Santa Rosa, CA, 18 October 2003. 237a. Published in Forum Third Series (2013): 193–213.

2004 238. Review of Christine M. Thomas, The Acts of Peter, Gospel Literature, and the Ancient Novel, JR 84: (2004) 451–52. 239. “Converting Paul: The Call of the Apostle in Early Christian Literature,” paper in Acts Seminar, Santa Rosa, CA, 23 October 2004. 240. “The Gates Have Been Closed: The Jews in Acts,” paper in Acts Seminar, Santa Rosa, CA, 23 October 2004. 241. “Theology, Theodicy, Philosophy, Christianity.” Pages 545–56 in Sarah Iles Johnston et al., eds., Religions of the Ancient World: A Guide, Cambridge: Belknap / ​Harvard University, 2004.

2005 242. “Doubts ‘mongst Divines, and Difference of Texts”: The Text of Acts and Some Problems,” paper for Trial Balloon Society, St. Paul, MN, 25 January 2005. 243. “Dating Acts,” Forum N. S.  5.1 (2002) 53–72 (cf. 234). 244. “Introduction.” Pages 1–12 in J.-A. Brant et al., eds., Ancient Fiction: The Matrix of Early Christian and Jewish Narrative. SBLSymS 32. Atlanta: SBL, 2005. 245. “Die Entführung in das Serail: Aspasia: A Female Aesop?” Pages 61–88 in J.-A. Brant et al., eds., Ancient Fiction: The Matrix of Early Christian and Jewish Narrative. SBLSymS 32. Atlanta: SBL, 2005 (rev. and expansion of 210). 246. “‘Identification Please’: Aspects of Identity in Ancient Narrative,” at Ancient Fiction and Early Christian and Jewish Narrative Section, SBL Annual Meeting, Philadelphia, PA, 21 November 2005. 247. “The Gates Have Been Closed (Acts 21:30): The Jews in Acts,” Journal of Higher Criticism 11 (2005): 128–49 (rev. ed. of 239).

262

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

2006 248. “Direct Speech in Acts and the Question of Genre,” JSNT 28.3 (2006): 285–307. 249. “Antioch, farewell! For wisdom sees …”: Traces of a Source Describing the Early Gentile Mission in Acts 1–15,” paper for the Acts Seminar, Westar Institute, Santa Rosa, CA, October 2006. 250. Dating Acts: Between the Evangelists and the Apologists. Santa Rosa, CA: Polebridge, 2006. 251. Review of T. Penner, In Praise of Christian Origins, JR 86 (2006): 456–57. 252. Review of John B. Weaver, Plots of Epiphany, JR 86 (2006): 460–1. 253. “Acts in the Suburbs of the Apologists,” paper for SBL Acts Section, Washington, D. C., 19 November 2006.

2007 254. Review of L. Alexander, Acts in Its Ancient Literary Context: A Classicist Looks at the Acts of the Apostles, JR 87 (2007): 91–92. 255. Review of S. Shauf, Theology as History, History as Theology, CBQ 69 (2007): 166–67. 256. Review of J. Tyson, Marcion and Luke-Acts, JR 87 (2007): 435–36. 257. “Fourteen Years Later: Revisiting Rethinking,” paper presented at Trial Balloon Society, St. Paul, MN, 16 October 2007.

2008 258. Review of István Czachesz, Commission Narratives, RelSRev 34 (2008): 42–43. 259. Review of R. Thompson, Keeping the Church in Its Place and R. Finger, Of Widows and Meals, JR 88 (2008): 229–30. 260. Review of R. Finger, Of Widows and Meals: Communal Meals in Acts, CBQ 70 (2008): 366–67. 261. “The Paul of Acts And the Paul of the Letters: Luke as an Interpreter of the Corpus Paulinum,” paper for conference “Le paulinisme de Luc-Actes,” Lausanne, 25–26 April 2008. 261a. Published as pages 141–55 in D. Marguerat, ed., La Réception du paulinisme dans les Actes des Apôtres. Leuven: Peeters, 2009. 262. Review of Paul N. Anderson, The Fourth Gospel and the Quest for Jesus, CBQ 70 (2008): 590–91. 263. “Converting Paul: The Call of the Apostle in Early Christian Literature,” Forum N. S. 7 (2004): 127–58, rev. ed. of 238.

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263

264. Acts. A Commentary. Ed. H. W. Attridge. Hermeneia. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009. 265. “Cultivating Paul: The Correspondence between Paul and Seneca,” paper in Ancient Fiction and Early Jewish and Christian Narrative Section, SBL Annual Meeting, Boston, MA, 21 November 2008. 266. The Mystery of Acts: Unraveling Its Story. Santa Rosa: Polebridge, 2008.

2009 267. Review of B. Malina and J. Pilch, Social-Science Commentary on the Book of Acts, CBQ 71 (2009): 184–86. 268. “A Fresh Look at Laodiceans,” paper at Upper Midwest Regional AARSBL Annual Meeting, St. Paul, MN, 27 March 2009. 269. Review of Josep Ruis-Camps and Jenny Read-Heimerdinger, The Message of Acts in Codex Bezae: A Comparison with the Alexandrian Tradition, Vol. 3: Acts 13.1–18.23: The Ends of the Earth. First and Second Phases of the Mission to the Gentiles, CBQ 71 (2009): 421–22. 270. Review of Elisabeth Esch-Wermeling, Thekla – Paulusschülerin wider Willen? Strategien der Leserlenkung in den Theklaakten, RBL, 16 May 2009. 271. “Acts in the Suburbs of the Apologists.” Pages 29–46 in Thomas E. Phillips, ed., Contemporary Studies in Acts. Macon, GA: Mercer University, 2009 (rev. and expanded ed. of 249). 272. “Proper 18, Year B,” Tuesday Morning [hereafter: TM] 11 (2009): 25–26. 273. Review of H.-J. Klauck, The Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles: An Introduction, JR 89 (2009): 410–11. 274. Review of O. Padilla, The Speeches of Outsiders in Acts, JR 89 (2009): 411–12. 275. Review of Uta B. Fink, Joseph und Aseneth: Revision des griechischen Textes und Edition der Zweiten Lateinischen Übersetzung, RelSRev 35 (2009): 194. 276. “Flattery in Its Sincerest Manifestation,” The Fourth R, 22.5 (2009): 11–14, 28. 277. Review of J. G. D.  Dunn, Beginning from Jerusalem, STRev 52 (2009): 437–38. 278. Review of R. MacMullen, The Second Church: Popular Christianity A. D. 200–400, STRev 52 (2009): 439–40. 279. “Proper 24, Year B,” TM 11.4 (2009): 13–15. 280. Review of Darrell L. Bock, Acts, CBQ 71 (2009): 892–93. 281. “Is There a There There? Looking for Antioch in the Former Antioch Source,” paper in Acts Seminar, Santa Rosa CA, 17 October 2009 (rev. and exp. version of 249).

264

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

281a. Forum Third Series. 2.2 (2013): 169–92. 282. “History Told by Losers: Dictys and Dares on the Trojan War,” paper in Ancient Fiction and Early Christian and Jewish Narrative section, SBL Annual Meeting, New Orleans, LA, 23 November 2009. 283. Review of J. Fitzmyer, 1 Corinthians, STR 53 (2009): 107–8. 284. Review of P. Walters, The Assumed Authorial Unity of Luke and Acts, RBL, 26 December 2009.

2010 285. 286. 287. 288.

“Ash Wednesday,” TM 12.1 (2010): 20–22. “Dying and Rising with Paul,” The Fourth R 23.1 (2010): 3–8. Review of A. Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord, CBQ 72 (2010): 151–53. Review of F. Bovon, L’évangile selon Saint Luc 19, 28–24.5, RBL, 2 March 2010. 289. “Easter, Year C,” TM 12.2 (2010), 9–10. 290. “Easter 7, Year C,” TM 12.2 (2010), 18–19. 291. The Making of Paul. Constructions of the Apostle in Early Christianity. Minneapolis: Fortress. 291a. Trans. by Francisco J. Molina de la Torre, Pablo Después de Pablo. Salamanca: Ediciones Síguome, 2012. 292. “The Hospitality of Onesiphorus: Missionary Styles in the Acts of Paul,” paper at Upper Midwest Regional SBL, St. Paul, MN, 9 April 2010. 292a. Slight revision presented to conference on Rise and Expansion of Christianity, Berlin, 26 July 2010. 292b. Published, with minor revisions, pages 341–51 in C. K. Rothschild and J. Schröter, eds., The Rise and Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries of the Common Era, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013. 293. “Proper 9, Year C,” TM 12.3 (2010): 10–11. 294. “Proper 16, Year C,” TM 12.3 (2010): 19–20. 295. Review of A. Lindemann, Evangelien und Apostelgeschichte, RelSRev 36 (2010): 148. 296. Review of M. Zugman “Hellenisten” in der Apostelgeschichte, RelSRev 36 (2010): 149. 297. “To Have and to Have Not: Receptions of Paul in the Acts of Paul,” paper for SNTS Seminar on the Reception of Paul, Berlin, 29 July 2010. 298. “Fourteen Years Later: Revisiting Rethinking.” Pages 23–40 in Andrew Gregory and Kavin Rowe, eds., Rethinking the Unity and Reception of Luke and Acts. Columbia: University of South Carolina, 2010 (expanded rev. of 257). 299. Review of M. Lattke, The Odes of Solomon, STR 53 (2010): 458–59.

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

265

300. Review of F. Downing, God with Everything: The Divine in the Discourse of the First Christian Century, STR 53 (2010): 459–61. 301. Review of Thomas A. Robinson, Ignatius of Antioch and the Parting of the Ways. Early Jewish-Christian Relations, STR 53 (2010): 461–62. 302. Review of Luke Timothy Johnson, Among the Gentiles: Greco-Roman Religion and Christianity, STR 53 (2010): 463–65. 303. Review of J. Barrier, The Acts of Paul and Thecla, CBQ 72 (2010): 822–23. 304. “Proper 23, Year C,” TM 12.4 (2010): 10–11. 305. “Christ the King,” TM 12.4 (2010): 20–21. 306. Review of C. K. Rowe, World Upside Down, JR 90 (2010): 560–61. 307. Review of M. Sleeman, Geography and the Ascension Narrative, JR 90 (2010): 561–62. 308. Review of A. J. Thompson, One Lord, One People, JR 90 (2010): 562–64. 309. “Trajectories through Acts in the Second Century,” paper for Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti, SBL Annual Meeting, Atlanta, GA, 21 November 2010. 310. “(Not) Appealing to the Emperor: Acts (and The Acts of Paul),” Reading Acts in the Second Century consultation, SBL Annual Meeting, Atlanta, GA, 23 November 2010. 311. Review of J. Spittler, Animals in the Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles, EC 1 (2010): 628–30. 312. “Trinity Sunday through Proper 14.” Pages 63–120 in New Proclamation, Year A 2011. Easter through Christ the King. Ed. David Lott. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2011.

2011 313. 314. 315. 316.

“Holy Name of Jesus, Year A,” TM 13 (2011): 11–12. “2 Christmas, Year A,” TM 13 (2011): 12–13. Review of the Common English Bible, STR 54 (2011): 173–75. Review of C. K. Robertson, Conversations with Scripture: The Acts of the Apostles, STR 54 (2011): 175–77. 317. Review of W. Pratscher, ed., The Apostolic Fathers: An Introduction. STR 54 (2011): 178–80. 318. Review of R. Kieckhefer, There Once Was a Serpent: A History of Theology in Limericks, STR 54 (2011): 185. 319. “The Acts of Paul as an Aide to Exegesis and a Source for Ecclesiastical History,” paper for Minneapolis Association for Patristic Studies, St. Paul, MN, 30 March 2011. 320. “Paul as a Christ Figure in the Acts of Paul,” paper for Upper Midwest Regional SBL Conference, St. Paul, Minnesota, MN, 2 April 2011.

266

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

321. “Lent4, Year A,” TM 13 (2011): 16–17. 322. “Easter 5, Year A,” TM 13 (2011): 25–27. 323. Review of Peter Oakes, Reading Romans in Pompeii, STR 54 (2011): 293– 95. 324. Review of Paul Foster, The Gospel of Peter, STR 54 (2011): 295–96. 325. Review of Ross Kraemer, Unreliable Witnesses, STR 54 (2011): 296–98. 326. “Proper 18A,” TM 13 (2011): 16–17. 327. Review of S. Matthews, Perfect Martyr, RBL, 11 August 2011. 328. Review of C. K. Rothschild, Hebrews as Pseudepigraphon, CBQ 73 (2011): 629–30. 329. Review of J. Killinger Hidden Mark and A. C.  Wire, The Case for Mark Composed in Performance, STR 54 (2011): 395–97. 330. “Proper 27, Year A,” TM 13 (2011): 15–17. 331. “Advent 2, Year B,” TM 13 (2011): 21–22. 332. “God and Planning: Footprints of Providence in Acts and in the Acts of Paul. Pages 259–77 in Andrew McGowan, ed., Method and Meaning: Festschrift for Harold Attridge. Atlanta: SBL, 2011. 333. “Luke and the Bishops,” paper in Book of Acts seminar, SBL Annual Meeting, San Francisco, CA, 21 November 2011. 334. “A Commentator Confronts the Text of Acts,” paper in NT Textual Criticism session, SBL Annual Meeting, San Francisco, CA, 21 November 2011. 335. “Identification Please”: Aspects of Identity in Ancient Narrative.” Pages 187–202 in C. K. Rothschild and T. W. Thompson, eds., Christian Body, Christian Self: Concepts of Early Christian Personhood. WUNT 284. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. 336. “Acts.” Pages 1–11 in Oxford Encyclopedia of the Books of the Bible. Ed. M. Coogan. New York: Oxford University, 2011.

2012 337. Review of James D. Hester and J. David Hester, eds., Rhetoric in the New Millennium, CBQ 74 (2012): 207–8. 338. Review of Robert Titley, A Poetic Discontent. Austin Farrer and the Gospel of Mark, RBL, 20 February 2012. 339. “Shepherd of the Lamb: Paul as a Christ Figure in the Acts of Paul.” Pages 355–69 in S. Meyers, ed., Portraits of Jesus: Studies in Christology. WUNT 321. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck (rev. version of 320). 340. Review of Dale Allison: Constructing Jesus: Memory, Imagination, and History, STRev 55 (2012): 224–25. 341. Review of J. Ramsey Michaels, The Gospel of John, STRev 55 (2012): 225–27.

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

267

342. Review of Michael A. Salmeier, Restoring the Kingdom, RBL, 10 April 2012. 343. Review of B. Diane Lipsett, Desiring Conversion, CBQ 74 (2012): 380–81. 344. “When in Rome: The Authorship of Acts in the Late Second Century,” paper for Trial Balloon Society, St. Paul, MN, 17 May 2012. 345. Review of A. J. Wedderburn, Jesus and the Historians, STR 55 (2012): 336–38. 346. Review of R. Scroggs, The People’s Jesus: Trajectories in Early Christianity, STRev 55 (2012): 338–39. 347. Review of M. Bird and J. Dodson, eds., Paul and the Second Century, STRev 55 (2012): 340–41. 348. Review of M. de Boer, Galatians, STRev 55 (2012): 341–42. 349. Review of R. P. Byars, The Sacraments in Biblical Perspective STRev 55 (2012): 342–44. 350. “Proper 21, Year B,” TM 14.3 (2012): 21–22. 351. “(Not) Appealing to the Emperor: Acts (and The Acts of Paul).” Pages 165–79 in D. Moessner et al. eds. Paul and the Heritage of Israel. Paul’s Claim upon Israel’s Legacy in Luke and Acts in Light of the Pauline Letters. London: T & T Clark, 2012, 165–79 (substantial rev. of 310). 352. Review of Urban C. von Wahlde, The Gospel and Letters of John, STRev 55 (2012): 447–48. 353. Review of Markus Vinzent, Christ’s Resurrection in Early Christianity, STRev 55 (2012): 448–49. 354. “Proper 26, Year B,” TM 14.4 (2012): 12–13. 355. “Thecla Wove This Web,” paper in Ancient Fiction and Early Jewish and Christian Narrative section at SBL Annual Meeting, Chicago, IL, 17 November 2012. 356. “Dare and Back: The Stories of Xanthippe and Polyxena,” paper in XXX section at SBL Annual Meeting, Chicago, IL, 20 November 2012. 357. Review of Elaine Pagels, Revelations. Visions, Prophecy, & Politics in the Book of Revelation, STRev 56 (2012): 99–101. 358. Review of Robert Doran, 2 Maccabees, STRev 56 (2012): 101–2. 359. “Acts of the Apostles,” Encyclopedia of the Ancient World (Wiley). Online. 360. Review of Kenneth Liljeström, ed., The Early Reception of Paul, CBQ 74 (2012): 636–37. 361. Ed. with Marília P. Futre Pinheiro and Judith Perkins, The Ancient Novel and Early Jewish and Christian Narrative: Fictional Intersections. Ancient Narrative Supp. 16. Gronigen: Barkhuis, 2012.

268

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

362. “Introduction.” Pages xv–xx in R. I. Pervo, M. P. Futre Pinheiro and J. Perkins, eds., The Ancient Novel and Early Jewish and Christian Narrative: Fictional Intersections.

2013 363. “Epiphany, 2013,” TM 15.1 (2013): 11–12. 364. Review of C. Keener, Acts, Vol. 1, RBL, 9 January 2013. 365. “Dare and Back: The Stories of Xanthippe and Polyxena,” paper at MAPS, 19 March 2013 (full, slightly rev. text of 355.) 366. “Blasting Away at Acts 12:20: Genre and Source,” paper at Upper Midwest SBL Regional Meeting, 5 April 2013. 367. “Pentecost, Year C. 19 May 2013,” TM, 15.2 (2013) 14–15. 368. Review of David Eastman, Paul the Martyr: The Cult of the Apostle in the Latin West, CBQ 75 (2013): 356–57. 369. Review of Richard S. Ascough, Philip A. Harland, and John S. Kloppenborg, Associations in the Greco-Roman World. A Sourcebook. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2012, RBL, 12 May 2013. 370. Review of Tony Burke, ed., Ancient Gospel or Modern Forgery? STRev 63 (2013): 299–300. 371. Review of John T. Carroll, Luke: A Commentary. STRev 63 (2013): 298– 99. 372. Review of Peter Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle. STR 63 (2013): 300–2. 373. Review of Konrad Hammann, Rudolf Bultmann. STRev 63 (2013): 302–4. 374. “Proper18c 8 September 2013, TM (2013): 17–18. 375. Review of Raymond F. Collins, 2 Corinthians, STRev 56 (2013): 393–94. 376. Review of Paul Foster and Sara Parvis, eds., Irenaeus STRev 56 (2013): 394–95. 377. Review of William Baird, History of New Testament Research, Vol. 3. STRev 56 (2013): 396–97. 378. Review of Joseph A. Bessler, A Scandalous Jesus STRev 56 (2013): 397–98. 379. Review of Roger Stronstad, The Charismatic Theology of St. Luke, RBL, 24 September 2013. 380. “Exegetical study for 22c, 6 October 2013,” TM 15.4 (2013): 7–8. 381. English translation of Acts, in Dennis B. Smith and Joseph B. Tyson, eds., Acts and Christian Beginnings: The Acts Seminar Report. 382. “The Date of Acts,” in ibid., 5–6. 383. “The Text of Acts,” in ibid., 14–15. 384. “Speeches in Acts,” in ibid., 45–46. 385. “The Gentile Mission Source,” in ibid., 222–23.

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

269

386. “Acts in Ephesus (and Environs) c. 115,” paper in Acts Seminar, Westar Institute, 25 October 2013. 386a. Rev. ed., Forum Third Series 4 (2015): 21–46. 387. Review of Luke Timothy Johnson. Prophetic Jesus, Prophetic Church, RBL, 29 October 2013. 388. “Miracle and Parable: A Camel’s Eye View,” paper in Early Jewish and Christian Narrative, SBL Annual Meeting, Baltimore, MD, 24 November 2013. 389. “Paideia in Three Acts: A Drama in Seven Acts,” Corpus Hellenisticum of the New Testament section, SBL Annual Meeting, Baltimore, MD, 26 November, 2013. 390. Review of Stephen E. Fowl, Ephesians, STRev 57 (2013): 95–96. 391. Review of John Yieh, Conversations with Scripture: The Gospel of Matthew, STRev 57 (2013) 96–97. 392. Review of Thomas G. Guarino, Vincent of Lérins, STRev 57 (2013): 98–99. 393. Review of F. Bovon, Dans l’atelier de l’exegète CBQ, 75 (2013): 786–87.

2014 394. “1 Lent 1A, 9 March 2014,” TM 16.1 (2014): 20–21. 395. “When in Rome: The Authorship of (Luke and) Acts in the Late Second Century,” paper at Chicago Society of Biblical Research, Elgin, IL, 25 January 2014 (substantial rev. of 343). 396. Scholars Bible: Luke. Salem, OR: Polebridge, 2014. 397. The Acts of Paul: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. Eugene Oregon: Cascade, 2014. 397a. Published in U. K. by James Clarke. 398. “‘Sex, Lies, and … Marriage’ among Christians in Second Century Rome,” paper in Early Christianity Section of Upper Midwest Regional AARSBL, St. Paul, MN, 4 April 2014. 399. “2 Easter Year 2014,” TM 16.2 (2014): 13–14. 400. “Antioch in the Book of Acts,” SBL Bible Odyssey (3/7/14). 401. Review of J. BeDuhn, The First New Testament, RBL, 17 July 2014. 402. Review of A. Lincoln, Born of a Virgin? STRev 57 (2014): 199–200. 403. Review of D. Oakman, The Political Aims of Jesus, STR 57 (2014): 200–1. 404. Review of R. Wilken, The First Thousand Years, STRev 57 (2014): 204–5. 405. Review of T. Burke, Secret Scriptures Revealed, STRev 57 (2014): 205–6. 406. Review of L. Jefferson, Christ the Miracle Worker in Early Christian Art, STRev 57 (2014): 206–7. 407. Review of Van Thanh Nguyen, S. V. D., Peter and Cornelius: A Story of Conversion and Mission, CBQ 76 (2014): 776–77.

270

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

408. “Canonical Apocrypha,” paper in Christian Apocrypha section, SBL Annual Meeting, San Diego, CA, 22 November 2014. 409. Review of J. BeDuhn, The First New Testament, paper in Formation of Luke-Acts, SBL Annual Meeting, San Diego, CA, 23 November 2014. 410. “An Odd Couple: Apuleius’ Metamorphoses and the Acts of Thomas,” paper in Ancient Fiction and Early Jewish and Christian Narrative Section, SBL Annual Meeting, San Diego, CA, 24 November 2014. 411. Review of F. Bovon, Luke 2–3, STRev 57 (2014): 408–9. 412. Review of Women’s Bible Commentary, 3rd ed., STRev 57 (2014): 421–23.

2015 413. Review of W. Atkinson, Baptism in the Spirit CBQ 77 (2015): 165–66. 414. Review of B. M. Sheppard, The Craft of History and the Study of the New Testament CBQ 77 (2015): 185–86. 415. Review of F. J. Moloney, The Resurrection of the Messiah, RBL, 10 April 2015. 416. “Beyond Debate: Mark and the Sacred Disease” paper at Upper Midwest Regional SBL meeting, 17 April 2015. 417. Review of Glenn E. Snyder, Acts of Paul CBQ 77 (2015): 380–81. 418. “Dare and Back: The Stories of Xanthippe and Polyxena.” Pages 161–204 in I. Ramelli and J. Perkins, eds., Early Jewish and Christian Narrative: The Role of Religion in Shaping Narrative Forms. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. 419. “Easter 3B 2015,” TM 17.2 (2015): 14–16. 420. “Easter 4B 2015,” TM 17.2 (2015): 16–17. 421. Review of B. L. White, Remembering Paul. JECS 23 (2015): 330–31. 422. Review of P. Bing and R. Höschele, Aristaenetus: Erotic Letters RBL, 19 June 2015. 423. “Proper 11B 2015,” TM 17.2 (2015): 14–16. 424. “Proper 20B 2015,” TM 17.2 (2015): 26–28. 425. Review of R. Bauckham et al., Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, STRev 57 (2014): 555–56. 426. Review of G. Vermes, The True Herod, STR 57 (2014): 557–58. 427. Review of C. Vine, The Audience of Matthew, STR 57 (2014): 558–60. 428. Review of John Ashton, The Gospel of John and Christian Origins, STRev 57 (2014): 560–62. 429. Review of M. Casey, Jesus: Evidence and Argument or Mythicist Myths? STRev 57 (2014): 562–63. 430. Review of Christopher P. Jones, Between Pagan and Christian, STRev 57 (2014): 564–65.

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

271

431. Review of Sean A. Adams, The Genre of Acts and Collected Biography, STRev 57 (2014): 565–67. 432. Review of A. Stewart, The Original Bishops, STRev 57 (2014): 567–69. 433. The Acts of John. Salem, OR: Polebridge, 2015. 434. “1 Christmas C 2015,” TM 17.4 (2015): 19–20. 435. “Apostolic Narratives: Non-Canonical Acts and Related Material.” Pages 65–89 in A. Gregory and C. Tuckett, eds., Oxford Handbook of Christian Apocrypha. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015. 436. “The Role of the Apostles.” Pages 306–18 in A. Gregory and C. Tuckett, eds., Oxford Handbook of Christian Apocrypha. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015. (386a. Rev. ed. of “Acts in Ephesus [and Environs] c. 115,” Forum Third Series 4 [2015]: 125–51.) 437. Review of R. Dupertuis and Todd Penner, eds., Engaging Early Christian History: Reading Acts in the Second Century, RelSRev 41.3 (2015): 115–16. 438. Substantially rev. ed. of 409 published in EC 6 (2015): 417–26. 439. “Paideia in Three Acts: A Drama in Seven Acts,” BR LVIII (2013): 7–15 (rev. ed. of 389). 440. Review of R. Burridge, Four Gospels, One Jesus? CBQ 77 (2015): 754–55. 441. Review of C. Bartholomew and M. Goheen, The Drama of Scripture, CBQ 77 (2015): 751–52. 442. “Degrees of Separation,” paper in SBL session honoring Dennis MacDonald, Atlanta, GA, 21 November 2015. 443. “Defense Mechanisms: The Apostle Makes His Case(s),” paper in Inventing Christianity group, SBL Annual Meeting, Atlanta, GA, 23 November 2015.

2016 444. “ Good Friday, 25 March 2016,” TM 18.1 (2016): 15–17. 445. “Easter Sunday 27 March 2016,” TM 18.1 (2016): 17. 446. Review of F. Dicken, Herod as a Composite Character in Luke-Acts, CBQ 86 (2016): 156–57. 447. Review of M. Parsons, Luke. Paideia, CBQ 86 (2016): 170–71. 448. “4 Easter,” TM 18.2 (2016): 7–9. 449. “5 Easter,” TM 18.2 (2016): 9–10. 450. Review of J. Weima, I–II Thessalonians, CBQ 86 (2016): 381–82. 451. “A Ray of Light on the Pauline Legacy: 1 Tim 5:18,” paper at Upper Midwest Regional SBL meeting, St. Paul, MN, 1 April 2016. 452. Review of Keener, Acts, Vol. 3, RBL, 23 April 2016.

272

Bibliography of Richard I. Pervo 1975–2016

453. Review of Samuel L. Adams, Social and Economic Life in Second Temple Judea, STRev 58 (2014): 236–38. 454. Review of P. Hartog, Polycarp, STRev 58 (2014): 239–41. 455. Review of David A. Fiensy and James Riley Strange, eds., Galilee in the Late Second Temple and Mishnaic Periods: Life, Culture, and Society, Vol. 1, STRev (2014): 241–43. 456. Review of D. Eastman, The Ancient Martyrdom Accounts of Peter and Paul, JECS 24 (2016): 304–5. 457. “Proper 11, Year C, 17 July 2016,” TM 18.3 (2016): 10–11. 458. “Proper 12, Year C, 24 July 2016,” TM 18.3 (2016): 11–13. 459. The Pastoral Epistles and Polycarp. Titus, 1–2 Timothy and Polycarp to the Philippians. Scholars Bible. Salem, OR: Polebridge, 2016. 460. “Can Homer Be Read with Profit? A Delightful Response  – and Then Some.” Pages 83–100 in M. Froelich et al. eds., Christian Origins and the New Testament in the Greco-Roman Context: Essays in Honor of Dennis R. MacDonald. Claremont, CA: CST Press, 2016. 461. “The Horror of Babylon: Iamblichus’ Babylonica and the Apocryphal Acts,” paper in the Ancient Christian and Jewish Narrative Fiction, SBL Annual Meeting, San Antonio, TX, 22 November 2016. 462. “Proper 25c, 23 October 2016,” TM 18.4 (2016): 8–10. 463. “Proper 26c, 30 October 2016,” TM 18.4 (2016): 10–11. 464. “The Acts of Titus,” introduction and translation. Pages 406–15 in Tony Burke and Brent Landau, eds., New Testament Apocrypha: More Noncanonical Scriptures, Vol. 1, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016 (rev. of 185). 465. Review of Lightfoot, Acts of the Apostles STRev 58 (2015): 451–53. 466. Review of J. P. Burns Jr. and R. M. Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa STRev 58 (2014): 453–56. 467. “Ash Wednesday, 2017,” TM 19.1 (2017): 20–22. 468. “1 Lent A, 2017,” TM 19.1 (2017): 22–24.

List of Contributors Harold W. Attridge, Sterling Professor of Divinity, Yale University, New Haven, CT Clayton N. Jefford, Professor of Scripture, Saint Meinrad Seminary and School of Theology, St. Meinrad, IN Amy-Jill Levine, University Professor of New Testament and Jewish Studies Mary Jane Werthan Professor of Jewish Studies Divinity School and College of Arts and Science, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, TN Dennis R. MacDonald, Research Professor, Claremont School of Theology, Claremont, California Troy W. Martin, Professor, Religious Studies, Saint Xavier University, ­Chicago, IL Shelly Matthews, Professor of New Testament, Brite Divinity School, Fort Worth, TX David P. Moessner, A. A. Bradford Chair and Professor of Religion, Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, TX Mikeal C. Parsons, Acting Director of Graduate Studies, Professor and Macon Chair in Religion, Baylor University, Waco, TX Mark Reasoner, Associate Professor of Theology, Marian University, ­Indianapolis, IN Clare K. Rothschild, Professor, Scripture Studies, Lewis University, ­Romeoville, IL Melissa Harl Sellew, Associate Professor, Classical and Near Eastern ­Studies, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, MN Janet E. Spittler, Associate Professor, Department of Religious Studies, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, VA Angela Standhartinger, Universitätsprofessorin, Evangelische Theologie, Neues Testament, Philipps-Universität Marburg, Germany

Index of Ancient Citations Italics indicate reference is in a footnote.

Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Genesis 1–2 111, 113–114 1:27 111–112 2 111, 113–114 2:23 101 2:24 101–102, 114 5:1b–2 111 18:1–2 148 18:9 148 18:13 148 18:22 148 19:1 148 Exodus 3:5 26 19:13 186 21:28 186 22:20–26 152 22:21 148 22:21–24 145 23:6–9 152 23:9 148 Leviticus 19:9–18 152 19:18 22, 27–28, 33 19:33–34 148 20:13 186 20:27 186 24:10–16 186 24:16 186 Numbers 15:32–36 186 19:11–13 56 19:14 56

Deuteronomy 6:5 22 12:15 50 12:22–23 50 13 186 13:7–12 186 15:7–11 148 18–19 169 18:15 169 21:18–21 186 22:13–21 186 22:23–24 186 22:25–27 186 34:10 169 Joshua 5:15

26

1 Samuel 2:21 172 2:26 172 3:10 172 3:19–20 174 3:21 172 5:1–5 172 28:3 174 28:7 48 1 Kings 17:17–24 64 17:19 55 2 Kings 4:10 55 4:21 55

276

Index of Ancient Citations

4:32–37 64 8:11 166 2 Chronicles 2:16 48 Ezra 3:7 48

52:13–53:12 173 56:2–3 173 61:5 163 61:9 163 65:11 163

Proverbs 10:2 153, 154 16:19 26

Ezekiel 1–2 72 1:1 71 1:3 71 1:28 71 2:1–3 71 8:31 82 9:9 82 9:12 82 9:31 82 10:33 82 10:45 82 14:21 82 14:41 82

Song of Solomon 2:9 50 4:5 50 7:3 50 8:14 50

Daniel 7 78 7:9–18 136 7:13 75, 79, 184 7:13–14 73, 77

Isaiah 3:13–15 152 14:1–3 148 49:13 26 52:10 173

Amos 2:6–7 152

Psalms 2:1–2 168 15:8–11 242 22:27 26 37:11 26, 34 90:11–12 82 90:13 82

Jonah 1:3 48

Apocrypha 1 Maccabees 14:5 47 2 Maccabees 1:1

90

Sirach 3:30 153 4:5a 28 7:10 60 7:30 22

Tobit in toto 148 1:3 60 1:16 60 3:2 60 4:6b–7 153 4:7–8 60 4:10 153 4:15 22

277

Post-Biblical Jewish Literature

Post-Biblical Jewish Literature Apocalypse of Elijah in toto: 49 Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Bekhorot 29b 56 Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Berakhot 19b 56 Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Hullin 17a 50 Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Meṣiʿa 114b 56 Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Nedarim 38a 26 Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Pe’ah 4.19 152 Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sabbath 30b 26 31a 22

14.34 47 14.76 47 14.202–210 47 14.248 51 15.277 90 19.330 26 20.200 195 Bellum Judaicum 1.156 47 2.507–509 47 2.508 47 3.54 47 3.55–56 47 3.56 47 3.414–431 47 3.419–420 48 3.427 47 4.145 51 5.326–328 51 Vita 277

234

Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sukkah 49b 152

Leviticus Rabbah 18.1 55 19.4 50

Ecclesiates Rabbah 12.6 55

Mishnah Berakhot 9:5 26

Jerusalem Talmud, Tractate Niddah 2.49d 50

Mishnah Eduyyot 3.1 56

Jerusalem Talmud, Tractate Pe’ah 15b-c 152

Mishnah Kelim 1:4

Josephus Antiquitates Judaicae 1 152 1.191–198 148 2.60 237 5.348 174 5.351 174 6.292–294 174 11.333–35 232

Mishnah Nazir 9.2 56

56

Mishnah Ohalot 2:1 56 Mishnah Sanhedrin 7.5 186 7.10–11 186

278

Index of Ancient Citations

Mishnah Shabbat 23.5 57

Legatio ad Gaium 156 234

Mishnah Sheqalim 5.48d 26

Vita Moses 2.279

Mishnah Sotah 40a

De opificio mundi 134 111

26

Mishnah Yevamot 16.3 55 Pesiqta Rabbati 36

26

Philo De Abrahamo 107–118 148 De decalogo 87

11

Hypothetica 7.6

22

26

De virtutibus 51–174 152 121–124 152 125–127 152 148–149 152 Psalms of Solomon 16.4 12–13 Testament of Joseph 8.5 237 Testament of Naphtali 1.6 22

Legum allegoriae 1.31–32 111

Dead Sea Scrolls Damascus Document (CD) 6:14–7:1 153 7:1–6 153

4Q284 in toto:

56

4QApocryphon of Joseph 1.17–32 237

New Testament Matthew 1:20–24 163 2:1 94 2:3 164 3:16 164 2:13 164 2:19–20 164

4:12 164 5:3 26 5:5 26, 34 5:10 26 5:42 25 7:12 22 9:6 64

New Testament

9:18–26 52 10:23 79 10:26–27 166 10:37–38 162 11:25–30 21 11:27 79 11:29 32 12:40 77 13:34–35 175 13:54 164 13:58 164 14:1 94 17:1–8 222 22:1–14 171 22:37 22 22:39 22 23:1 166 23:31–32 166 24:7 242 25 155 26:50 182 26:57 182 26:59 182 26:59–60 179 26:60 183 26:61 183 26:62–63 183 26:64 183–184 26:65 179 26:65–66 183 26:66 183–184 26:67 183 27:46 185 27:57 186 28:2 242 28:8 175 28:19 163 Mark 1:10 164 1:14 164 1:16–20 84 1:17–20 74 1:25 160 1:34 160 1:41 235 1:43–45 160 2:9–11 64

3:1–12 161 3:28–29 69 4:11 161 4:26–29 175 4:33–34 175 5 62, 64 5:7 235 5:22–43 52 5:22 63 5:41 52, 62 5:43 161 6:2 164 6:5 164 7:31–37 161 8:12 69, 77 8:22–26 161 8:30 161 8:38 69 9:2–8 222 9:9–10 161 9:30 161 10:46 52 12:30–31 22 12:34 181 12:37 166 13:8 242 13:9 130 13:21 69 13:26 82 13:35 69 14:43 181–182 14:46 181–182 14:53 181–182 14:55 182 14:56–57 179, 181 14:58 180–183 14:60 183 14:61 183 14:61–62 82, 85 14:62 67, 183–184 14:63 183 14:64 182–183 14:64 183 15:34 182, 185 16:3 242 16:8 168, 175

279

280 Luke in toto: 9 1:1–4 120 1:4 124 1:5 94, 168 1:5–23 121 1:8–22 160 1:39–56 148 1:47 156 1:48 164 1:49–50 156 1:52–55 162 1:54 156 1:65–66 164 1:68 162 1:68–69 156 1:71–74 162 1:80 164 2:1–2 169, 175 2:25 186 2:29–32 164 2:30–32 159 2:31–32 160 2:32 160 2:34 160 2:40 172, 174 2:42 174 2:49 172 2:52 172, 174 3:1–2 169, 175 3:2 169 3:17 186 3:19–20 123 3:21 164 3:21–22 123, 164 3:21–24:53 124 3:23 163 4:14 164 4:15 164 4:22 164 4:24–27 166 4:25–27 163 4:28–29 164 4:41 161 4:34 144 4:34–35 144 4:35 160 4:41 160, 235

Index of Ancient Citations

5 120 5:12–16 120 5:13 56 5:14 120, 160 5:24 64; 67 5:39 13 6:5 69 6:16 123 6:17–19 161 6:30 25 6:31 22 6:35 145 7 156 7:6 143 7:11–17 52, 166 7:11–59 57 7:13 156 7:18–35 123 7:29 166 7:34 69, 143 7:36–50 148 8:1–3 61 8:2–3 161 8:10 161 8:28 235 8:41–56 52, 62 8:41 62 8:44–48 56 8:49–56 57 8:50 237 8:51 56 8:54 56 8:56 161 9:1–6 148 9:4 154–155 9:5 154 9:8–26 222 9:21 161 9:22 67 9:26 67 9:31 169 9:36 161 9:43 161 9:44 67 9:51 121 9:51–19:27 84 9:52 163 9:52–56 166

New Testament

9:57–62 84 10–11 139 10:1–16 148 10:1–20 84 10:5–7 235 10:7 238 10:7–8 154 10:9 154 10:11 154 10:22 79 10:25–37 139 10:27 22, 84 10:36 156 10:37 156 10:38–42 140, 149 11:1–10 139 11:5–8 139 11:28 123 11:29 144, 162 12:1 162 12:2–3 166 12:4 143 12:8 67 12:8–10 84 12:10 67 12:40 67 12:41 162 13:10–17 234 13:17 162 13:31–32 160, 169 13:33 162 14:15–24 171 14:25 162 14:25–33 162 15:6 143 15:9 143 15:20 156 15:29 143 16:26 13 17 156 17:11–19 166, 171 17:13 156 17:14 156 17:22 67 17:24 67 17:26 67 17:30 67 18:31 67

18:38 156 18:42 156 19:1–10 149 19:37 165 19:41–44 165 20:21 242 20:30 242 20:45 166 21:4 60 21:9 165 21:11 242 21:12 130 21:16 143 21:26 242 21:27 67 21:36 67 22:16 122 22:18b 122 22:19 122 22:22 67 22:25 156 22:45 186 22:47–23:56 178 22:52 182 22:54 182 22:66 169, 179, 182 22:66–71 181 22:67 183 22:67–70 85 22:69 67, 183–184 22:71 183 23:1 183 23:1–16 169 23:6–12 168 23:13–25 179 23:24 184 23:34 182–183, 185 23:46 182, 185, 186, 242 23:53 57 23:54 185 23:55–24:11 167 24 116, 122 24:1–9 57 24:1–49 122 24:9 175 24:13–35 137, 167 24:13–43 124 24:13–51 120

281

282

Index of Ancient Citations

24:18 160 24:19 165 24:19–21 122 24:25 169 24:27 169 24:34 167 24:36–43 116 24:36–49 124, 167 24:36–50 123 24:38–41 122 24:39 102, 104–105, 115 24:40 129 24:43 104 24:47 163 24:48 122 24:49 120, 124 24:50–51 119, 123, 124 24:51 121 24:52–53 121, 124, 160 24:53 124, 168 John 1:32–34 164 4:3 164 4:45 164 4:4 163 4:46–53 52 5 52 5:8–10 64 8:59 186 9 52 10:31–33 186 11:1 55 11:2 55 11:3 55 11:6 55 11:17 55 20:29 162 Acts in toto: 25 1:1 123, 125, 132, 135 1:1–2 120 1:1–3 120, 167 1:1–4a 122, 124 1:1–14 123, 133 1:2 121 1:3 120–121, 123, 124

1:3–4 120 1:3–6 123 1:3–8 131 1:4 104, 119–120, 124, 133, 136–137 1:4–5 122 1:4b–8 136 1:5 131, 133 1:6 122–123 1:6–11 124 1:8 122–123, 129 1:9–11 122, 123 1:12–14 122, 124 1:14 90, 234 1:15 124, 145 1:15–5:42 123, 135–136 1:16 145 2 133 2:5 186 2:5–11 165 2:14–36 165 2:22–23 189 2:26 242 2:29 145 2:30–35 122 2:31 104 2:33 122 2:36 189 2:37 165 2:38–39 135 2:38–40 165 2:41 165 2:42 27, 174, 234 2:43 27 2:44–45 21, 27, 28, 33, 36 2:44 37, 144 2:46 90, 242 3–4 154 3–5 181 3:1 234 3:1–26 135, 165 3:2 154 3:7 154 3:12–15 189 3:16 135 3:17 185 3:18 169, 172 3:22 145

New Testament

3:22–26 169 3:26 135 4:1–22 135 4:5–22 165 4:7 135 4:8 170 4:8–10 189 4:9 154 4:10 135 4:12 240 4:17–18 135 4:22–23 135 4:24 90 4:25–28 168 4:30 135 4:31 170 4:32 21, 27, 28, 33, 36, 144 4:33 135 4:32–37 28, 36 4:33 27, 135, 144 5:3 179 5:12 90, 135 5:12–42 135 5:14 135 5:17–41 240 5:18–25 8 5:28 135 5:30 189 5:32 170 5:39 8, 11 5:41–42 135 5:42 169 6:1–6 58 6:1–15 136 6:1–8:40 136 6:3 145 6:4 234 6:5 51 6:7 170, 181, 190 6:8–15 178, 183 6:8–8:1a 178 6:10 181 6:11 181 6:12 179, 181–182 6:13 136, 178, 181, 183, 187 6:13–14 187 6:14 181, 183 6:15 184

7:1 182 7:1–60 136 7:2–53 187 7:32–33 26 7:33 21, 26, 34, 36–37 7:34 35 7:37 169 7:48 182 7:51–52 189 7:54–8:3 178, 182 7:55–56 67, 136, 183 7:56 67, 69, 85, 182–183 7:57 90, 186 7:57–58 183 7:58 17, 38 7:59 182 7:59–60 183 7:60 182, 185–186, 189 8:1 170, 188, 190 8:1–3 189 8:1–40 136 8:2 182, 186 8:5–13 170 8:6 90 8:9–24 236 8:12 136, 170 8:13 136 8:14 170 8:14–17 89 8:26–40 173 8:36 175 9 15, 41, 62, 64 9:1 136 9:1–30 136 9:1–31 38 9:1–2 17 9:2 96 9:2–43 41 9:4 155, 136 9:4–5 167 9:5–6 137 9:9–10 239 9:15 46 9:16 136 9:17 145 9:26–30 137 9:30 145 9:31–43 49

283

284 9:31–42 41, 46 9:31–28:31 137 9:31 46 9:32–35 52, 63–64 9:32–11:18 45 9:32–12:25 45 9:34 64 9:36 154 9:36–42 51, 61, 170 9:37 55 9:39 51, 56, 60 9:40 51, 56, 62 9:43 234 9:43–11:18 149 10–11 144, 150 10:1–11:15 137 10:2 54, 154 10:4 54, 154, 234 10:6 149 10:14 137 10:15 56 10:17–23a 149 10:18 149, 170 10:20 149 10:23 56, 145, 149 10:24 149 10:25 149 10:26 149 10:28 51, 56, 149 10:31 54, 154, 234 10:32 149 10:34–35 149 10:34–38 89 10:36–48 149 10:37 160, 170, 175 10:38 156 10:39 189 10:40–41 167 10:41 104 10:43 169, 172 10:44 170 10:44–45 96 10:47 176 10:48 56, 238 11:1 145 11:3 56 11:8 137 11:12 145

Index of Ancient Citations

11:14 238 11:16 137 11:17 176 11:19–30 24 11:29 145 12:4–17 8 12:5 234 12:5–17 241–242 12:6 186 12:12 241 12:17 145, 195, 242 12:19 237 12:20 90 13:1–14:28 38 13 234 13:1 21, 24, 35–36, 171 13:2 170, 233 13:6 232 13:6–12 236 13:7 231 13:13–52 138 13:14 234 13:16 234 13:16–43 165 13:27 185 13:27–28 189 13:36 186 13:37 104 13:43 231 13:45–50 232 13:46 231 13:47–49 138 13:49 170 14 156 14:1–5 232 14:1–6 138 14:1–8 149 14:2 145 14:12 231 14:19 232 14:14 231 14:22 120, 129, 170 14:25 170 14:29 231 15 21, 29–32, 144, 231 15:1 88, 145 15:1–20 195 15:2 88

New Testament

15:6–11 137 15:6–41 36 15:6ff 36–37 15:7–11 88, 96 15:9 56 15:10 32 15:11 237 15:12 88 15:13–21 89 15:14 166 15:19 231 15:20 20, 22, 32, 34–35, 37 15:21 34 15:22 90, 231 15:22–23 99 15:23 89, 91, 93 15:23–29 87, 99 15:24 89, 92 15:25 90 15:25–26 91 15:27 87, 90, 231 15:28 90, 231 15:28–29 91 15:30 96 15:39 240 16 227–229 16:1–3 231, 240 16:1–5 229 16:3 232 16:4 93 16:6–7 232 16:7 168, 170 16:6–10 188 16:9 231, 232 16:10–18 131 16:11–15 149 16:12 229–230 16:13 229, 235 16:14 60, 232 16:16 235 16:17 233 16:18 235 16:19 229, 236 16:20–21 228, 231 16:21 232, 236 16:22–23 236 16:22–24 242 16:23–27 8

16:24 236, 241 16:25 237, 242 16:27 237 16:29–30 237 16:30 229, 242 16:31 237 16:33 235 16:34 242 16:35 230, 238, 243 16:37 232, 238 16:38 230 16:39 242 16:40 239, 242 17:4 234 17:5–8 236 17:12 234 17:16–34 165 17:30 185 17:34 234 18:2 240 18:3 60, 234 18:9 235 18:9–10 168, 239 18:10 166 18:12 90 19:6 170 19:8 170 19:10 160, 170 19:11–20 119 19:13–18 236 19:13–20 240 19:21 240 19:23–24 240 19:29 90 20:7–12 52, 63 20:9–10 57 20:12 52 20:23–25 243 20:25 170 20:32 170 20:34–35 145 20:35 21, 25, 36–38 21:1–21 165 21:3–6 149 21:4 243 21:7–16 149 21:11 242 21:13 243

285

286 21:17–26 195 21:27 188 21:27–28 236 21:34 243 21:37 243 22:1–21 165 22:4–21 126 22:5 96 22:10 137, 186 22:12 186 22:17–21 137 22:20 137 22:24 243 22:25 239 22:26 137 22:27–28 239 22:29–30 243 23:10 243 23:11 168, 239, 242 23:16 243 23:22 12: 23:25 96 23:32 243 23:33 96 24:17 154 25:13 234 25:23 234 25:26 234 25:30 234 26 13–14 26:1–29 138 26:2–3 16 26:4–18 16 26:9–10 136 26:11 15 26:13 15 26:14 7 26:14–18 15 26:16 15 26:16–18 137 26:22–23 16, 175 26:23 138 26:24 15 26:26 159, 175 26:27–28 17 26:29 154 26:31 17, 243 27 155

Index of Ancient Citations

27–28 230 27:1–28:14 240 27:3 154 27:5 93 27:23 240 27:23–24 242 28 155 28:1–6 149 28:1–10 119 28:2 153 28:7 155 28:7–10 149 28:15 173 28:17–28 165, 173 28:28 240, 242 28:30–21 170 28:31 173 29:19–20 16 Romans 1:2–3 172 1:16–17 173 1:18–2:29 171 2:7 154 3:28 97 5:12–21 171 5:17 173 8:18 97 10:18–21 173 12:6–9 29 12:13 148 13:3 154 13:8–9 22 15:7 148 15:19 173 16 109 16:5 228 16:22 96 1 Corinthians 1:2 173 4:17 97, 173, 231 5:9 96 6:16 114 6:17 114–115 7:17 173 7:34 115 7:39 186

287

New Testament

8:4 32 9:1–3 99 9:8 154 9:15–18 11 9:27a 114 11:3 108 11:10 112 11:30 186 12:28 24–25 14:33 173 15:1–5 131 15:6 167, 186 15:7 195 15:8 167 15:10 131 15:18 186 15:20 186 15:49 112 15:50 116 15:51 186 16:1 173 16:3 96 16:9 173 16:15 228 2 Corinthians 1:1 94 3:1–3 96 7:8 96 8:1 173 10:9–11 96 11:2–16 108 11:5 97 11:10 108 11:28 173 18:8 131 Galatians 1:1 94 1:1–19 195 2:1–14 195 2:20 18 3:28 106, 110–113 3:29 107 5:14 22 Ephesians 1:1

94

2:10 154 5:22–23 115 5:25 106 5:26–27a 114 5:29 106, 114 5:30 101–103, 106, 114–116 5:31 101 5:31–32 114 6:21 97 Philippians 1:1 228 1:5 228 1:6 154 1:29–30 228 2:19–24 228 2:22 231 3:12 11 4:1 191 4:2 228 4:3 228 4:15–16 228 Colossians 1:1 1:10 4:7 4:16

94 154 97 96

1 Thessalonians 2:2 228 2:9 239 2:15 188 4:13 186 4:14 186 4:15 186 5:27 96 2 Thessalonians 2:2 96 2:19 191 2:15 96 3:14 96 3:17 96 1 Timothy 1:1 94 2:9–10 53

288

Index of Ancient Citations

2:10 154 3:2 148 4:11–14 63 5:9–10 53 5:10 61, 154

1 Peter in toto 87, 92–93 1:1 98 1:14 98 1:21 98 1:22 98 2:9 98 2:10 98 2:17 98 5:9 98 5:12 87–88, 90, 99

2 Timothy 1:1 94 1:11 24 2:21 154 3:17 154 4:10 131 Titus 1:1 94 1:6 154 1:8 148 3:4 153 3:10 154

2 Peter 3:1 3:16

96 96

James 2:8

22

Revelation 1:13 67 1:13–18 222 14:14 67

Hebrews 2:6 67 5:7 186 10:22 55 11:7 186 12:28 186 13:2 148

Early Christian Writings Acts of John 19 218 26 213 27 213 27.7–8 213 28 214–215, 222 29 215 48–54 223 56–57 221, 223 61 217, 219 63 218 64 223 64.11–66.3 224 82 218 87–102 218 87–105 221 88.9–18 222

90 222–223 90.22 221 113 218 Acts of Paul and Thecla 27–34 241 Acts of Thomas 39 106–129 142–163

204 241 241

(First) Apocalypse of James 13.19–14.2 205 (Second) Apocalypse of James 44.14 195

Early Christian Writings

59.22 60.12 61.14

195 195 195

Apophthegmata Patrum Antony 13 210 Barnabas 4.9b–10 154 12.9–10 75 18–21 35 18–20 30 19.8a 27, 28 1 Clement 1.2 148 2.1 25 10.7 148 11.1 148 12.1 148 12.3 148 13.2c 22 38.2 144 2 Clement 12:1–2

111

Clement of Alexandria Stromateis 3.13.93 114 3.92.2 111 Didache in toto: 25–26 1–6 30 1.2 33 1.2c 22–23, 33, 35, 37 1.3b–2.1 33 1.5 21, 25, 32–33, 36–38 1.5–6 33 3.7 21, 26, 28, 34, 37 4.5 21, 25, 33, 36–38 4.8 21, 27–28, 32–33, 36–37 6 30 6.1–3 21, 29, 31, 36–37 6.2–3 29 6.3 30–31

12 148 13.1–2 21, 23, 35–37 15.1–2 21, 35–37 Eusebius of Caesarea Historia ecclesiastica 1.23 195 2.3.3 195 7.10 195 Praeparatio evangelica 9.27.23–24 241 Gospel of the Egyptians (= Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis, 3.92.2) 5 111 Gospel of the Hebrews 7 195 Gospel of Mary 10 204 Gospel of Peter 10 222 Gospel of Thomas 1 205 3 200 6 198, 201 11 203 12 195–203 13 194–197, 200–201, 204–207 14 197 18 198, 201 20 198 22 111, 198 24 198, 201 25 22 28 202 29 207 37 198, 201 43 198, 201 50 203 51 198, 201 52 198, 201, 203 53 197, 203

289

290

Index of Ancient Citations

56 203 80 203 87 207 91 198, 201 99 198 100 198 104 197–198, 201 108 204–205 111 203 112 207 113 198, 201 114 198, 201, 204 Ignatius To the Ephesians 5.1 105 20.2 75 To the Magnesians 1.2 105 13.2 105 To Polycarp 4.3 110 5.1 106 To the Romans pr. 1

105

To the Smyrnaeans 1.1 105 3 105 3.2–3 105

John Chrysostom Homiliae in Acta apostolorum 1.1 130–131 1.2 131–132 3.54 119 36.2 238 Homiliae in epistulam ad Hebraeos 15 212 John Cassian Conferences 24.21 210 Justin Apologia I 1.54.7 93.1

75 22

Pseudo-Justin On Resurrection 2.14 116 Origen Contra Celsum 2.34

8

Homiliae in Lucam 34:9 155 Shepherd of Hermas, Mandates 2.4–6 25 8.10 148

Irenaeus Adversus haereses 3.1.1 129 3.2.1 129 3.3.1 129 3.13 179 5.2.3 102

Shepherd of Hermas, Similitudes 9.15.4 24 9.16.5 24 9.25.2 24

Jerome Epistulae 53

Sibylline Oracles 3:119–38 153

126

Shepherd of Hermas, Visions 3.5.1 24

Theodoret On Exodus 3, Question 7

26

291

Greek and Roman Authors

Greek and Roman Authors Achilles Tatius Leucippe et Clitophon 1.1.2–1.2.3 243

Athenaeus Deipnosophistae 9.389a 220

Aeschylus Agamemnon 1624

Aulus Gellius Noctes atticae 16.13.9

8, 10, 11, 12, 13

Prometheus vinctus 8–11 150 322–323 10 324–325 11 390 150 Apollonius Dyscolus De constructione 2.42 96 3.64 95 3.65–66 95 3.66 95 Aristides Orationes 73.24

150

Aristotle Ethica nicomachea 8.4.2–6 141 9.8.2 142 1150b 216 Rhetorica 1.2.3–5 2.1.5–7 2.22.14–15

91, 97 91, 97 89

Artapanus Fragments 4

237

Artemidorus Onirocritica 4.56 149

233

Chariton De Chaerea et Challirhoe 1.12.6–10 147 1.12.9 147 1.13 147 1.14.4–6 148 1.14.9–10 213 2.3.5–7 214 2.11.1–3 213 3.6.3 213 4.1.11 213 4.2–3 241 4.2.6 242 Cicero De amicitia 6.20 142 17.64 142 20.7.1 142 De officiis 1.17.56 142 Diogenes Laertius Lives 2.24 237 2.42 237 3.98 152 9.3 209 Dionysius of Halicarnassus De compositione verborum 9 38 De Thucydide 24

38

292

Index of Ancient Citations

Epictetus Dissertationes 2.6.26 237 2.16.44 8 3.24.64 151 Euripides Bacchae in toto: 9–10, 13 326–327 15 576–579 15 594–595 15 606–607 15 620 15 794 7 794–795 7–8, 11 795 12–13 Iphigenia taurica 1395f 13 1396 10 Fragments 604

8

Heliodorus Aethiopica 2.21.7 149 6.6 142

9–12 134 9.228–229 146 9.266–268 146 9.269–270 147 9.273–378 147 9.288–293 147 17.38–386 149 17.485–487 147 Isocrates Evagoras 9.43 151 Julian Orationes 8.246b

8

Longus Daphnis and Chloe pr. 243 1.2.1 151 1.2–3 151 Lucian Toxaris 28–33 241 29 242 33 237

Herodotus Historiae 2.173 209 3.40 95 6.21 145

Philostratus Life of Apollonius of Tyana 4.34 232 6.19 215 8.30 237 8.34–38 237

Homer Iliad 6.215–231 145 6.357–358 133 18.350 57

Pindar Frag. iamb. adesp. 13 8

Odyssey 1.102–324 147 3.34–35 146 3.36–41 146 3.40–68 146 8 134 8.367 134

Pythian Odes 2.94–95 8, 11 2.94–96 13 2.173 12 Plato Apologia 33C

8

Greek and Roman Authors

Euthyphro 3D 150 Leges 4.713D 150 Phaedo 60D

237

Phaedrus 279 142 Symposium 189C 150 Pliny (the Younger) Epistulae 2.6.3 143 7.17.1–10 38 Plautus Amphitruo 441–443 215 446–447 215

Quintilian Declamationes 325.9 15 Institutio oratoria 8.6.37–38 121 8.6.39 121 10.6.1–2 38 Sallust Bellum catalinae 35 142 Seneca De beneficiis 1.15.3 144 1.21 144 2.31–35 142 3.13.1–2 144 Epistulae 47.16 142 81.17 28

Truculentes 4.741 13

Tacitus Annales 15.44 18

Plotinus Enneads 5.8.1 6.3.15

215 215

Terence Phormio 1.2.27f 12 77 11

Plutarch De adulatore et amico 49F 139

Theocritus Idylls 26 14

Moralia 778c

26

Porphyry Life of Plotinus 2.450–456

Xenonphon Cyropaedeia 1.2.1 150

215

Papyrus Tebtynis 1.86 234

Xenophon of Ephesus An Ephesian Tale 1.6 243 3.12 241 4.2–3 241 4.6 241

293

Index of Modern Authors Achtemeier, P. J. ​87, 94, 97 Aejmelaeus, L. ​103 Agne, J. ​59 Aletti, J.-N. ​102 Alexander, P. S. ​23 Anderson, G. ​153–154 Anderson, J. C. ​41, 65 Anderson Jr., R. D. ​89 Ascough, R. S. ​227, 229, 234 Arnal, W. E. ​202 Arterbury, A. ​145, 148–150 Audet, J.-P. ​19, 21, 26 Aune, D. E. ​24 Barclay, J. M. ​142, 144, 152 Barreto, E. D. ​232 Barrett, C.  K. ​12, 13, 45, 46, 47, 60–62, 128, 178, 184 Bauckham, R. J. ​116, 195 Bauer, T. J. ​240 Bauernfeind, O. ​10, 13 Beard, M. ​211 Bechard, D. ​16 BeDuhn, J. D. ​103, 108, 112–113 Belnap, D. ​60 Bengel, J.  A. ​13 Betz, H. D. ​106 Bilby, M. G. ​103 Bitzer, L.  F. ​88, 92 Blomberg, C. ​155 Bock, D.  L. ​45, 46, 55, 60 Bockmuehl, M. ​30, 32, 125 Bonz, M.  P. ​233, 234 Borman, L. ​229 Boyarin, D. ​111, 113 Bovon, F. ​105, 167, 190 Branch, R. G. ​54, 59 Brenk, F. E. ​236 Briggs, S. ​107, 108–109 Brodie, T. L. ​187 Brown, J. P. ​68

Brox, N. ​87 Bruce, F. F. ​9, 90 Buell, D.  K. ​107–108 Bultmann, R. ​12, 13, 70, 186, 198 Burkett, D. ​67 Burns, J. E. ​212 Buscaglia, F. L. ​19, 39 Cadbury, H.  J. ​13, 90, 119, 125–126 Calpino, T. J. ​227, 234 Cameron, R. ​196 Campbell, S. ​41 Carhart, R. ​14 Carroll, J. T. ​182 Caston, R. R. ​215 Catchpole, D. R. ​68 Cineira, D. A. ​239 Cohen, S. J. D. ​43, 189 Collins, A. Y. ​70 Collins, J.  J. ​98 Compton, M. B. ​130 Conzelmann, H. ​10–11, 20, 24, 41, 55, 58, 180, 181, 184–185, 238 Corley, K. E. ​235 Crimella, M. ​233 Crossan, J. D. ​194 Culy, M. M. ​141–142 Curchin, L. A. ​230 Danker, F. W. ​151 De Boer, M. C. ​186 De Jong, I. ​121, 133–134 De Jonge, H. J. ​123 De Vos, C. S. ​227–228, 236 DeConick, A. D. ​195–196, 197–200, 203, 206 DeLyria, J. ​43 Denniston, J. D. ​214, 223 Dickerson, F. C. ​53, 63, 65 Dibelius, M. ​10, 13, 34 Dihle, A. ​23

Index of Modern Authors

Dittenberger, W. ​96 Dodd, C. H. ​207 Dodds, E. R. ​7–9 Doering, L. ​87, 89–91 Donelson, L. R. ​98 Doody, M. ​212 Dormeyer, D. ​14 Draper, J. A. ​21, 23 Dubis, M. ​95 Dunderberg, I. ​204, 206 Dunn, J. D. G. ​20, 24–26, 29, 64 Eadie, J. ​102 Eastman, D. L. ​18 Ebel, E. ​227, 234 Ehrman, B. ​103 Eisele, W. ​199–200, 206 Eisenbaum, P. ​107 Eisenstadt, S. N. ​141 Elliott, J. H. ​93 Elliott, J. K. ​38, 214 Erichson-Wendt, F. ​45 Ewald, P. ​228 Exler, F. X. J. ​95 Fallon, F. T. ​196 Farkasfalvy, D. M. ​22–23 Fatum, L. ​112 Feldmeier, R. ​99 Finger, R.  H. ​61 Fiore, B. ​141 Fitzgerald, J. T. ​141, 143 Fitzmyer, J. A. ​7, 11, 45, 178, 183–184, 186–187 Fleddermann, H. T. ​68, 78 Flusser, D. ​23, 26, 35 Foakes Jackson, F. J. ​12, 70 Foster, P. ​222 Fowl, S. E. ​102 Fraisse, J.-C. ​141 Frankfurter, D. T. M. ​49, 65 Friesen, C. J. P. ​14–16, 17 Funk, R. W. ​89 Gager, J. G. ​105 Gamble, H. Y. ​125 Garcia, H. ​221 Gardner, G. E. ​32

295

Garland, D. ​155 Garrow, A. J. P. ​22, 26, 33 Gathercole, S. ​194, 196, 197, 199, 202 Gaventa, B. ​145 Genette, G. ​121–123, 133 Giambrone, A. ​25, 32 Giet, S. ​19 Gilbert, G. ​15 Gilhus, I. S. ​211 Gizewski, C. ​230 Goppelt, L. ​97–98 Grant, R. M. ​125, 174, 175 Green, J. B. ​182 Gregory, A. F. ​125 Gruca-Macaulay, A. ​227, 233 Gunderson, E. ​218 Hackett, J. ​8, 9, 13, 17 Haenchen, E. ​3, 8, 10, 11, 14, 41, 90, 125, 126, 178, 180, 182, 184, 186, 187, 235 Hagner, D. ​155 Halliwell, S. ​211–212, 216 Harnack, A. ​24, 128 Hartin, P. J. ​196, 203 Harvey, P. B. ​48, 65 Head, P. ​38 Heidland, H. W. ​90 Hellerman, J. H. ​227 Hengel, M. ​45, 234 Herman, G. ​147 Hintermaier, J. ​235, 241, 243 Hock, R.  F. ​141, 152, 156 Hodge, C.  J. ​107–108 Hoehner, H. ​101–102 Hoffman, P. ​69 Holladay, C. ​11, 125, 181 Holman, S. R. ​33 Holmes, M. W. ​20 Horn, R.C ​7 Hort, F. J. A. ​92, 93 Hutchings, D. ​46, 50, 51 Iverson, K. R. ​212 Järvinen, A. ​70 Jefford, C. N. ​21–23, 25–29 Jervell, J. ​172 Jipp, J. W. ​153–155

296

Index of Modern Authors

Johnson, L. T. ​41, 45, 49, 143, 149, 195, 196 Johnson-DeBaufre, M.108 Junod, E. ​213, 215, 216–218, 219, 221 Kaestli, J. D. ​213, 215, 216–218, 219, 221 Kartzow, M. B. ​107 Keener, C. ​15–16, 18, 20, 24–25, 29, 34, 38, 46, 50, 51, 56, 65 Kelhoffer, J. A. ​145 Kelly, J. N. D. ​98 Kindstrand, J. F. ​209 Kittredge, C. B. ​108 Klauck, H.-J. ​95–96, 217, 235 Klinghardt, M. ​103 Koenig, J. ​148 Koester, H. ​105, 204 Klutz, T. ​235–236 Knox, W. L. ​12 Knust, J. W. ​103 Koch, D.-A. ​232 Koet, B. J. ​232 Konstan, D. ​141 Koukouli-Chrysantaki, C. 229 Kraft, R. A. ​19–20, 29 Kratz, R. G. ​241, 243 Kümmel, W. G. ​10 Lake, K. ​12, 34, 70, 90 Lalleman, P. J. ​218, 221 Lambrecht, J. ​68 Lampe, P. ​94 Lang, F. G. ​227 Lategan, B. C. ​107 Lawson, V. ​45, 46, 59, 62, 65 Layton, B. ​32 Lentz, J. C. ​8, 239 Leppä, H. ​103 Levine, A. J. ​57 Lewis, D. M. ​90, 95 Lewis, M. ​59 Lieu, J. M. ​116 Lightfoot, J. B. ​26 Lincoln, A. T. ​102 Longenecker, B. ​150–151, 152–153, 212 Lopez, D. C. ​107 Ludlow, J. ​212

MacDonald, D. R. ​14, 69, 106, 110–114, 241 MacDonald, M. Y. ​102 Mack, B. ​68 Malherbe, A. ​16, 159 Marcus, J. ​201 Marjanen, A. ​197, 200, 203, 205–206 Marshall, P. ​143 Martin, D. ​112 Martin, T. W. ​88, 91, 96–97 Matson, D. L. ​227, 235, 238 Matthews, S. ​103–104, 109–110, 115, 179–181, 186, 188–189, 190, 234–235, 241 McDonald, J. I. H. ​34 Meeks, W. A. ​106, 112 Meiggs, R. ​95 Merz, A. ​114, 115 Metzger, B. ​102, 125, 183 Metzner, R. ​141 Milavec, A. ​22, 24, 30 Miller, A. ​108, 109, 112 Miller, J. B. ​233 Minear, P. S. ​165–166, 168 Mitchell, A.  C. ​143, 144–145 Mitchell, M. W. ​21 Moessner, D. P. ​125 Müller, M. ​67, 75, 83 Nasrallah, L. ​103, 108 Nel, M. J. ​212 Nestle, W. ​7–9, 10, 13 Neyrey, J. ​16 Nicklas, T. ​124, 127–128 Niederwimmer, K. ​19, 21, 26, 28, 32, 33 Nikander, P. ​32 O’Loughlin, T. ​22 Oakes, P. ​227 Oepke, A. ​10 Olbricht, T. H. ​91 Osiek, C. ​33, 114 Padilla, O. ​16 Pagels, E. ​104, 105 Painter, J. ​196, 203 Pardee, N. ​24, 30, 33 Parker, D. ​103

Index of Modern Authors

Parsons, M. C. ​50, 54, 60, 125, 155–157, 159, 179 Patterson, S. J. ​196–198, 200, 203, 206 Pearson, B. ​150, 152–153 Perkins, P. ​207 Petersen, N. R. ​201 Petry, T. ​116 Peronni, M. ​61–62 Pervo, R. I. ​2–3, 8–9, 11, 18, 20, 24–25, 27, 29, 34, 38, 47, 60, 61, 63, 64, 67, 88–90, ​ 93, 103–104, 119, 120, 125, 139, 145, 159, 169, 170–174, 175–179, ​181–182, 183, 184–188, 189–191, 212, 228–231, 232–234, 235, 236–237, ​ 238–239, 240, 241–242, 243 Pesch, R. ​185 Peterlin, D. ​227–228 Phillips, T. E. ​103 Pilhofer, P. ​229, 230, 232, 234 Plümacher, E. ​216–218, 219 Poirier, P.-H. ​204 Pokorny, P. ​194, 197, 199–200 Pollack, J. Z. S. ​42, 43 Quispel, G. ​196 Räisänen, H. ​201 Ramsay, W.  M. ​12 Rapp, C. ​33 Reece, S. ​146 Reimer, A. M. ​236 Reimer, I.  R. ​45, 50, 63, 65, 227, 233, 235 Renehan, R. ​7–8 Resnick, I. M. ​211 Reyero, S. ​7 Rhodes, J. N. ​28 Rhodes, P. J. ​90 Rodgers, P. R. ​101 Roniger, L. ​141 Rothschild, C. K. ​52 Roloff, J. ​13 Rordorf, W. ​19–21, 24, 26 Rowe, C. K. ​125 Sabbe, M. ​67, 85 Safrai, H. ​234 Sanders, E. P. ​68 Scalise, D. ​59

297

Schaberg, J. ​117 Schapdick, S. ​229 Schellenberg, R. ​103 Schenk, W. ​68 Schmid, L. ​9, 10, 13, 17 Schmithals, W. ​68 Schreiber, S. ​238 Schröter, J. ​125 Schürmann, H. ​70, 79 Schüssler Fiorenza, E. 106–108, 112–113 Schwartz, D. R. ​228 Scott, J. M. ​14 Seaford, R. A. S. ​8, 241 Segal, A. F. ​29 Segal, E. ​220 Sellew, M. H. ​197–198, 202–203 Smend, F. ​7, 9–10 Smith, A.  H. ​12 Smith, D.  A. ​105, 116 Smith, D. E. ​125, 128, 129 Smyth, H. W. ​93–95 Snyder, J. ​216 Sorek, S. ​43 Souter, A. ​125 Spencer, S.  F. ​60 Spittler, J. ​216–217, 219–220 Stamps, D.  L. ​88 Standhartinger, A. ​110, 212, 243 Stegemann, W. ​239 Sterck-Degueldre, J.-P.227, 234 Stewart, A. C. ​22, 24 Stichele, C. V. ​64 Stowers, S. ​107 Strelan, R. ​50, 65 Stuehrenberg, P. F. ​129 Stuiber, A. ​21 Taeger, J.-W. ​186 Talbert, C. H. ​15, 20, 155 Tamez, E. ​109 Tappenden, F. ​107, 113–114 Taylor, J. ​229 Telfer, W. ​29 Thompson, T. W. ​180 Tobin, T. H. ​111 Trapp, M. ​96 Tyson, J. B. ​20, 103

298

Index of Modern Authors

Uro, R. ​194–195, 198, 201–203, 204, 206, 207 Valantasis, R. ​198, 200, 201–202 Van de Sandt, H. ​23, 26, 35 Van Unnik, W. C. ​228 Varner, W. ​22 Vatz, R.  E. ​88 Vielhauer, P. ​126 Visonà, G. ​24 Vögeli, A. ​9–10, 13, 14 Vokes, F. E. ​22–23 Vouga, F. ​89 Walters, P. L. ​125, 177 Walton, J.  M. ​59 Weaver, J. B. ​8, 232, 241 Wehnert, J. ​233 Weinreich, O. ​8–10, 13, 241 Weiser, A. ​185 Wettstein, J. J. ​144

White, L.  M. ​229, 230 Wiefel, W. ​160 Wilkenhauser, A. ​232 Williams, D. K. ​109–110 Willimon, W. H. ​54, 58 Wilson, R.McL. ​199 Windisch, H. ​7, 9–10 Winter, B. W. ​16, 34 Winter, S. C. ​29 Wire, A. C. ​106, 108–109, 112–113 Witherington III, B. ​15, 51, 102 Wohleb, L. ​26 Wohlenberg, G. ​228 Wojtkowiak, H. ​227 Wray, T. J. ​54 Wrede, W. ​201 Wynter, D. ​45, 59 Zeitlin, F. ​214 Ziegler, D. ​14, 241

Index of Subjects

Acts ​51–52, 55, 90, 95–96, 104, 119, 127– 131, 159–160, 165–176, 188, 190–191, 195, 212, 227–234, 237, 239–241, 243 – Authorship of ​177–178, 180, 187–188, 190–191 – Assembly Letter ​87–90, 91, 92–94, 96–99 – Church leadership in ​90 – Dating of ​18, 22, 30, 35–36, 103 – Debut scenes in ​163–165, 176 – Friendship in ​139, 143–145 – Hospitality in ​139, 148–150, 155, 170–171 – Jesus as narrator in ​120, 122–124, 132–138 – Philanthropy in ​139, 153–157 – Reception history of ​48, 124–132, 178–181, 227 – Relation to Didache ​20–29, 31–39 – Relation to Euripides ​8–18 – Relation to Luke ​119–133, 178, 181–187, 189–190, 238, 242 – Relation to Paul ​103–104, 159, 172–173, 188, 227–228, 231 – Son of Man in ​67, 83, 85 – and Teachers ​24–25, 35 – Textual families of ​34 Acts of John ​75, 212–225 Acts of Paul ​127–128, 177 Acts of Thecla ​110, 113 Acts of Thomas ​204–205 Aeneas (in Lydda) ​41, 45, 51–52, 63–64 Aeschylus ​ 8, 10–13, 150 Alcestis ​63 Almsgiving ​60, 152–154 Amasis ​95, 209–210, 211 Androgyne ​106, 110–115, 117 Angel(s) ​72, 78, 81, 108, 112, 148–149, 184, 240 – Guardian angel ​153

– Raphael ​148 Antioch ​19–21, 24–25, 29, 31, 35, 51 88–89, 99, 130, 144, 171, 188, 190, 228, 231, – Antiochean Community ​31 – of Pisidia ​138, 232–233, 234 Apocalypse of Elijah ​49 Apocalypse of James – First ​205 – Second ​195 Apollonius Dyscolus ​95–97 Apollonius of Tyana ​63, 232 Aristophanes ​150 Aristotle ​ 91, 97 – on Friendship ​141–142 Asia Minor ​92–93, 96, 99, 232 Asphaleia ​159, 175–176 Athanasius – Festal Letter 39 ​126–127 Augustine – De doctrina christiana ​126–127 – Expositions on the Book of Psalms ​50 Baptism ​50, 106–109, 135, 163–164, 175, 238, 242 – Baptismal Formula ​106–108, 110, 112–113 – of the Holy Spirit ​122, 133 Bar-Jesus ​231, 236 Barnabas ​91, 138, 144–145, 171, 231, 232, 233 Bedbugs ​216–219, 221 Bewitched ​ 41–44, 49, 55, 58, 62, 64, 65 Body of Christ ​101–102 Book of Thomas ​204–205 Byzantium ​32 Caesarea ​46, 48, 138, 243 Canon ​103, 125–127, 128, 130, 132 – Cheltenham ​125, 127

300

Index of Subjects

Catholic Epistles ​125–129, 132 Chaereas and Challirhoe ​147 Chester Beatty Papyrus ​126 Cicero ​142 Cilicia ​89, 92–93, 99, 188 Circumcision ​87–89, 91–92, 190, 197, 203 – of Timothy ​228, 231 – Uncircumcised Gentiles ​88–89, 99 Codex Bezae ​21, 126 Codex Claromontanus ​125, 127 Cold War ​42 Comedy ​44, 121, 214, 216, 218–220, 222 – Mime ​218, 219 Cornelius ​44–46, 50–51, 54, 58,149, 154, 238 – Household of ​89, 96, 137, 149 Covenant Code ​148 Cyclops ​146–147 Daphnis and Chloe ​151–152 Demodocus (Odyssey) ​134 – Didache ​19–21, 27, 32–33 Dating of ​ 22, 35–36, 39 – Relation to Acts ​20–26, 28–29, 31–33, 35–38 – Relation to Matthew ​21, 26 – Textual tradition of ​29–30, 36–37 – and True prophets ​23–25, 35–36 Dio Chrysostom ​142 Diogenes (Cynic) ​151 Dionysius ​7–8, 11, 14–15, 17–18, 147, 241 – Cult of ​15–16, 241 Doctrine of Addai, The ​128 Dorcas ​41, 45, 49–53, 58–60 Drusiana ​218, 223–224 Egalitarianism ​109–110, 112, 113, 115 Elijah ​64, – And Elisha ​163, 165–166, 172 Epiphanius of Salamis ​110 Ethnic identity ​41–44, 107–108 Euripides ​9–11, 15 – Bacchae ​7–13, 15–16, 241 Eurydice ​63 Eusebius of Caesarea ​23, 191, 195 Eutychus ​48, 52, 55, 57, 63–64 Ezekiel ​75

Feminism ​44, 58, 109, 110, 112–113 Fictive Kinship ​63, 145 First Peter ​87–88, 92–94, 95, 99 – Petrine Prescript ​89–98 Flesh ​123, 203, 205, 207 – of Adam ​101, 115 – of Christ ​101–102, 104, 106, 115–116, 122, 133 – in Ephesians ​101–102, 114–117 – in Genesis ​101–102 – in Luke ​104 – and Spirit ​105–106, 112 Food – and Hospitality ​139–141, 146–148, 155, 157 – Offered to idols ​21, 29, 31–32 – Rituals ​31–33, 50, 190, 197 Four Gospels ​125, 127–129, 132 Friendship – in the Ancient World ​141–143, 157 – Guest-friendship ​146 – in Luke/Acts ​139–140, 143–145, 155, 157 – and Mutuality ​142–144 – Patron/Client ​142–143 – Public/Private ​141–142 Gaius ​14 Gazelles ​50–51 Genesis Rabbah ​148 Gentile(s) ​45–47, 50–51, 56–57, 88–89, 91–93, 96–97, 99, 137, 144, 149, 150, 163, 179, 231, 234, 240 – Gentile mission ​45–46, 50, 57, 71, 136, 138, 157, 187, 240 – and Jews ​107–108, 136, 149, 173 Gods (pagan) ​12–13, 29, 52, 142, 147, 150–151, 214–215 – Dead ​31 – Idols of ​31–32 Golden Rule ​22–24, 33–37 Good Samaritan ​57, 139, 141, 154–156 Gospel of Barnabas ​32, 127 Gospel of Thomas ​193–207 – Community of ​193, 197–199 – Leadership in ​200–201 – Master-student dependence in ​205–206 – Misunderstanding in ​201–202

Index of Subjects

– Sibling rivalry in ​204–205 Greek proverbs ​7–8, 9–13, 15–16, 17, 142 Harvest Home ​44 Head coverings ​108 Heaven ​67, 79, 112, 121–123, 129, 133, 135, 137, 164, 169, 191, 203, 222 – Clouds of ​73, 77, 82, 85 – and Earth ​122–123, 193–194, 202–203, 207 – Kingdom of ​26 – Heavenly figure(s) ​11, 239 – Heavenly Throne Room ​136 – Heavenly voice ​72, 74 – Reward in ​76, 83 Helen (Iliad) ​133 Herod Agrippa I ​241 Herod Agrippa II ​7, 15–18, 47, 138, 159, 243 Herod the Great ​47–48, 94, 163, 168 Herod the Tetrarch ​160, 162, 168, 171, 184 Herodotus ​209, 210–211 Holy ground ​26–27, 34, 36–37 Holy Spirit ​30, 75, 90, 120, 124, 126, 129, 131, 137, 169, 179 – Baptism of ​122–123, 131, 133 – Descent of ​78, 129, 149, 164 – Power of ​123, 133, 164 – Speaking against the ​69, 78, 81 Homer – Iliad ​57, 133 – Odyssey ​134, 146–147 Hospitality ​139–141, 145–150, 154–157, 170–171 Household codes ​101, 110, 114 Ignatius ​105–106, 110 Insider/Outsider ​139–141, 143, 145–150, 154–157 Intertextuality ​8, 11, 15, 25, 102 Ioudaioi ​179–181, 188 Irenaeus ​23, 102–103, 129–130, 177, 179, 190 James (the Righteous) ​193–207 Jerusalem ​29, 32, 45–48, 55, 120–121, 124, 136–137, 141, 162, 164–165, 170,

301

179, 181, 186, 188–190, 211, 232, 236, 239–240 – Christian Community in ​21, 27–29, 31, 90, 143–145, 171, 188–189, 193, 196, 199, 242 – Council of (Acts 15) ​29, 38, 87–93, 96, 99, 190, 230–231 – Temple ​35, 57, 60, 72, 77, 81, 121–122, 124, 136–137, 159–160, 165, 168, 173, 180–183, 188–189, 195 Jesus 10, 62, 74, 91, 106, 115, 122, 135, 153, 205, 211 – in Acts ​7, 9, 11, 13, 17–18, 26, 54, 67, 85, 99, 110, 119–120, 122–125, 130–138, 155–157, 159–161, 165–167, 169–174, 176, 235, 237–238 – in the Acts of John ​214–215, 218, 221–223 – Anointing of ​56 – Baptism of ​71–72, 73, 75, 78–79, 81–82, 164 – Birth of ​163–164, 169 – Burial of ​56, 184–185 – Followers of ​15, 47, 51, 58, 61, 65, 104, 106, 107, 112, 154, 155, 156–157, 162, 180, 198 – as Healer ​56, 169 – as Heavenly figure ​11 – in John ​52, 84, 130, 162–164, 168, 207 – Logia of ​33, 36, 39 – as Lord ​25, 30, 99, 112, 123, 135–136, 138, 237 – in the Lost Gospel ​69–85 – in Luke ​52, 84–85, 102, 104, 119–123, 140–141, 143, 148–149, 154, 155, 156, 159–176, 212, 235, 238, 242 – in Mark ​52, 62, 74, 77, 82, 85, 130, 168, 175, 179–181, 219 – in Matthew ​76, 77, 78, 130, 155, 162, 164, 166, 175 – Name of ​11, 106, 135–138, 154 – Passion of ​85, 166–168, 178–191, 195, 199 – and Peter ​48, 56, 62, 94, 96–97, 149, 154 – as Prophet ​72, 80, 165–166, 169–170, 176

302

Index of Subjects

– Resurrection of ​54, 77, 102, 104–106, 116, 122–124, 131–132, 135, 138, 166–168, 242 – as Son of Man ​67, 69–72, 74–78, 80–85, 136, 184 – and Stephen ​178–191, 242 – Teachings/Words of ​22, 111, 129–131, 134, 144–145, 164, 170–172, 174–175 – Temptation of ​72–73, 75, 77, 81–82 – in the Gospel of Thomas ​193–194, 197–201, 203–207 Jewish-Christian(s) ​181, 188–190, 193–201 – Palestinian Judaism ​195, 197 Jewish identity ​43, 46–47, 51, 56, 153, 197 Jewish practice ​34, 57, 197, 199 John (the apostle) ​213–223 John Cassian – Conferences ​210, 211 John Chrysostom ​119, 126, 130–133, 211–212, 225, 238 John the Baptist ​56–57, 71, 163–164, 166, 169, 174 Jokes/joking ​209–213, 216, 221–223, 225 Joppa ​41, 44–48, 50–51, 55–57, 61, 65 Josephus ​47–48, 51, 148, 152, 173–174, 243 Kingdom of God ​72, 80, 120, 122–124, 133, 136–137, 170, 176 Koinonia ​ 145 Laos ​ 137, 159, 164–166, 168–169, 172 Lazarus ​52, 55–56, 63, 211 Letters ​95–96 – Carriers ​90–91, 99 – Epistolary form ​87 – Epistolary terms ​91, 94–97, 99 Logos ​ 169–170, 175–176 Luke (gospel) ​47, 52, 54, 57, 61–62 69, 102, 104–106, 115, 129, 162–163, 235, 238 – Conclusion of ​119, 121 – Dating of ​103, 116, 174–175 – Debut scenes in ​163–165, 176 – Friendship in ​139–140, 143, 145, 157 – Hospitality in ​139–140, 148–149, 157, 170–171 – Messianic Secret in ​160–161, 163

– Open stage of ​159–161, 165–176 – Passion narrative ​166, 178, 180–187, 189–190 – Philanthropy in ​139–140, 154–157 – Position in canon ​125–128 – Relation to Acts ​20, 36, 119–133, 159, 177–190, 240, 242 – Son of Man in ​84–85 Lycomedes ​213–216, 218, 221, 223 Lydda ​41, 45–48, 52, 61, 64 Lydia ​60–61, 227–229, 232–235, 239–240 – House of ​235, 238, 242 Macedonia ​229, 232–233, 240 Malta ​153, 156, 243 March on Washington ​42 Marcion ​103, 116 Mark ​68–70, 77, 125–127, 207 – Misunderstanding in ​201–202 – Passion narrative ​178, 179, 180–184 – Relation to Acts ​180–186, 190–191 – Relation to Luke ​84–85, 160–161, 163–165, 168, 175, 187 – Son of Man in ​78, 82–83 Martin Luther King, Jr. ​42 Mary Magdalene ​104, 167 – And Martha ​54, 63, 139–140, 149 Mary (mother of Jesus) ​75, 148, 163, 204, 205 Matthew (gospel) ​19, 21, 26, 28, 68, 69, 76, 77, 78, 126–127, 195 – Passion narrative ​187 – Relation to Acts ​182–185 – Relation to Luke ​162, 164–166, 168, 175, 187 Messiah ​82, 84–85, 123, 136, 138, 201 – Crucified ​132, 188 – False ​187 Messianic literature ​21, 22, 24, 28, 37, 39 Messianic secret(s) ​160–161, 163 Metadiegesis ​122, 134 Metalepsis ​119–123, 132–134, 137 Moses ​ 34, 111, 138, 169, 203 Narratee ​122, 133 Nations, the ​31, 98, 123, 136–138, 155, 159, 161–163, 167, 170, 173 Nausikles ​142

Index of Subjects

Nestor ​146 Noachide commandments ​29–31, 36 Odysseus ​134, 146–147 Open stage ​159–176 Pamphylia ​92–93 Partridge ​210, 219–221 Passionate Witch, The ​64 Paul ​9, 10–12, 15, 18, 25, 32, 48, 52, 61, 102, 104, 114, 123, 131, 143, 144–145, 148, 149, 153–155, 159–160, 175, 179–180, 188, 191, 196, 236 – as an Apostle ​18, 24, 89, 99, 129, 132 – Audience of ​10, 18 – Conversion of ​179 – and Damascus Road ​7, 11, 17–18, 46, 137, 155 – and his Death ​17–18, 176, 190, 243 – Epistles/Letters of ​18, 94, 97, 103, 109–110, 114, 116, 125–128, 159, 167, 170–173, 186, 188, 190, 195, 228, 237 – Imprisonment of ​155, 168, 236–238, 241–243 – and Jerusalem Council ​88–89, 93, 231 – Mission(s) of ​8, 38, 46, 136–138, 165, 228, 230–233, 240 – as Persecutor ​11, 13, 15, 18, 136–137, 179, 186, 188–189 – in Philippi ​227–230, 233–243 – and Social Identity ​106–109, 111–112 – Trials of ​15, 16–18, 159–160, 176 – Visions of ​229–230, 232–233, 239 Pentheus ​7–8, 15, 17–18 Peter ​12, 47–48, 50–52, 54, 56–58, 61, 89, 95–98, 104, 133, 135–137, 149, 154, 156, 162, 165, 167–168, 178, 188, 190, 196, 200–201, 204, 222, 231, 236–238, 240–242 – as an Apostle ​87, 94–99, 129, 131–132 – Mission(s) of ​45–46, – and Tabitha ​44, 48, 50–51, 53–54, 56–57, 62–64 – Visions of ​46, 51, 137, 149 Philanthropy ​139–140, 150–157 Philippi ​109, 227–230, 233–235, 239–240, 242–243 Philo of Alexandria ​14, 111, 148, 152

303

Pilate ​168, 184, 189 Plato ​142, 150, 152, 209 Platonism ​111–112, 116, 202, 203 – Neo-Platonism ​215 Plautus ​215, 220 Plutarch – On friendship ​139, 142, 144 Priscilla and Aquila ​60–61, 234, 238 Prison escape(s) ​8, 230, 236–241 Proseuche ​229, 233, 234–235 Pseudepigraphy ​87, 104, 114–115 Purity ​56–57, 114 Q (Sayings Gospel) ​22, 25, 67–68, 79, 83, 162, 164, 166, 171 – Two Document Hypothesis ​68–69, 83 – Q+/Papias Hypothesis ​69 – Logia of ​69–84 Resurrection ​104–106, 112, 138, 116, 191, 224 Revelation of Peter ​127–128 Rome – Citizenship ​239 – City ​46, 165, 170, 173, 188, 230, 232, 233, 239–240, 242–243 – Empire ​32, 47, 51, 186, 189 – and Roman Catholicism ​46 Romans (People) ​88, 220, 228, 231, 236 Rosetta Stone ​151 Salvation history ​26, 159–160, 171, 174 Samuel ​172–174 Seneca ​142–144 Senex amans ​218, 220 Shepherd of Hermas ​127–128, 148 Silas/Silvanus ​87–88, 90–91, 93, 97, 99, 228–231, 237–238, 240, 242 Simon Maccabee ​47 Son of God ​70–72,, 73, 75, 77–78, 80, 82–85 Son of Man ​67–85, 182–184, 189, 222 Stepford Wives, The ​44 Stephen the martyr ​26, 38, 67, 85, 136–137 178–191, 242 – as a Hellenist ​188 Strangers ​42, 139–140, 145–150, 152, 155, 157

304

Index of Subjects

Synagogue ​34, 48, 63, 73, 162, 164, 179, 189, 229, 231, 234 Syria ​89, 93, 99, 113 Tabitha (Bible) ​41–42, 45–56, 58–65, 154, 234 – Death of ​55–59 – as a Female disciple ​41, 52–54 – Meaning of name ​49–52 Tabitha (TV series) ​41–45, 48–49, 52, 54, 62–65 Telemachus ​146–147 Testament of Abraham ​148 Theodosius I ​32 Theophilus ​16, 51, 120, 124

Thomas ​162, 194, 197–198, 200, 204–206 Timothy (Acts) ​228–229, 231–232, 240 Tobit ​49, 153 – Book of ​148, 153, 154 Torah ​29, 169, 193, 195 Two Shipwrecked Gospels ​69, 71, 73, 76, 79, 81, 84 “Two ways” teaching ​26, 28, 30–31, 35 Widow of Nain ​52, 54–55, 57, 63 Widows ​33, 51, 55, 58–63, 144, 154 – and Clothing ​53, 60–61 Witches ​41–44, 48–49, 58, 63–64 Zacchaeus ​149