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Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Herausgeber/Editor Jörg Frey (München) Mitherausgeber/Associate Editors Friedrich Avemarie (Marburg) Markus Bockmuehl (Oxford) Hans-Josef Klauck (Chicago, IL)
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Paul A. Holloway
Coping with Prejudice 1 Peter in Social-Psychological Perspective
Mohr Siebeck
IV Paul A. Holloway, born 1955; 1998 Ph.D. University of Chicago; 1998–2006 Assistant Professor and then Associate Professor of Religion, Samford University, Birmingham, Alabama; 2006–2009 Lecturer then Senior Lecturer in Christian Origins, University of Glasgow; since 2009 Associate Professor of New Testament, School of Theology, Sewanee: The University of the South, Sewanee, Tennessee.
e-ISBN PDF 978-3-16-151533-0 ISBN 978-3-16-149961-6 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.d-nb.de.
© 2009 by Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen, Germany. 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 reproduction, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was typeset by Computersatz Staiger in Rottenburg/N., printed by Gulde-Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.
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For Melissa, and for Chapney, Abigail, Callie, and Lillian
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Acknowledgements It is a pleasure to recall the encouragement and help I have received in researching and writing this book. First of all, I wish to thank Jörg Frey and Hans-Josef Klauck, the editors of Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, for expressing their interest in the topic and issuing a contract at an early stage of my research. Their continuing interest and support has been a great boon. My thanks also to Henning Ziebritzki, general editor for early Christian and Jewish Studies at Mohr Siebeck, whose gentle encouragement and great patience have been much appreciated. One of the greatest joys of the academy is the many conversations it allows. The ideas expressed in this book have been developed in conversation with a host of generous and intelligent friends and colleagues. I offer my hearty thanks to each of these individuals, who include: Eddie Adams, Jeff Asher, Liz Asmis, Harry Attridge, David Aune, David Bains, Matt Baldwin, John Barclay, Dieter Betz, Ward Blanton, Bill Brosend, Walter Brownridge, Chris Bryan, Adela Yarbro Collins, John Collins, Cindy Crysdale, Art Droge, Jim Dunkly, Garrett Fagan, Chris Faraone, Hugh Floyd, Jörg Frey, David Garland, Matt Goff, Jim Henges, Matthias Henze, Karina Hogan, David Horrell, Bob Hughes, Alastair Hunter, Larry Hurtado, Matt Jackson-McCabe, Werner Jeanrond, Werner Kelber, Jim Kelhoffer, Hans-Josef Klauck, Ed Krentz, Manfred Lang, Louise Lawrence, A.-J. Levine, Penny Long Marler, Dale Martin, Margy Mitchell, Chris Mount, Halvor Moxnes, Carol Newsom, George Nickelsburg, George Parsenios, Sarah Parvis, John Riches, Olivia Robinson, Clare Rothschild, Ken Roxburgh, Richard Saller, Joe Scrivner, Yvonne Sherwood, Bill Stafford, Todd Still, Jim Turrell, Mark Usher, Dale Walker, Heather Walton, and Becky Wright. I would like to acknowledge Brill Academic Publishers for permission to incorporate material from my earlier articles: “Paul’s Pointed Prose: The Sententia in Roman Rhetoric and Paul,” Novum Testamentum 40 (1998) 32–53, and “‘Beguile your soul’ (Sir xiv 16; xxx 23): An Epicurean Theme in Ben Sira,” Vetus Testamentum 58 (2008) 1–16; the president and fellows of Harvard College for permission to incorporate material from my article: “Bona Cogitare: An Epicurean Consolation in Phil 4:8–9,” Harvard Theological Review 91 (1998) 89–96; and Cambridge University Press for permission to incorporate material from my book: Consolation in Philippians: Philosophical Sources and Rhetorical Strategy (SNTSMS 112: Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), and
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Acknowledgements
my article: “Nihil inopinati accidisse — ‘Nothing unexpected has happened’: A Cyrenaic Consolatory Topos in 1 Pet 4.12ff.” New Testament Studies 48 (2002) 433–48. I lovingly dedicate this book to my wife Melissa and to our four wonderful children: Chapney, Abigail, Callie, and Lillian. They have selflessly supported me throughout this project. I have on numerous occasions benefited from Melissa’s astute social and cultural critical sensibilities. Indeed, it was because of Melissa’s example that my first serious efforts at social analysis were awakened some twenty-five years ago. Readers will be especially happy to know that more than once a half-baked idea intended for the pages of this book has been sent scurrying by her disapproval.
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Table of Contents Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, Series . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XIII List of Plates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Part 1:
Encountering Prejudice Chapter One: Locating 1 Peter: 1 Peter As an Early Christian Pseudepigraphal Letter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Literary Integrity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Authorship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Date of Composition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Original Readership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
Chapter Two: Social Prejudice and Its Effects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 On the Nature of Prejudice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 An Emphasis on Group Membership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Social Attitude with Cognitive, Affective, and Behavioral Elements . . . . . . .
22 23
On the Causes of Prejudice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 Prejudice from the Target’s Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
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Chapter Three: Social Prejudice and Persecution: On the Occasion of 1 Peter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Anti-Christian Prejudice in the Early Roman Empire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Official Correspondence on the Treatment of Christians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Early Christian Martyrdom Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Early Christian Apologetic Writings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Various Early Non-Christian Literary and Non-Literary Sources . . . . . . . . . . Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
42 48 54 59 65
Evidence of Anti-Christian Prejudice in 1 Peter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Part 2:
Coping with Prejudice Chapter Four: Ancient Theories and Practices of Consolation: Greco-Roman and Early Jewish Traditions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Greco-Roman Consolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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On the Nature of Greco-Roman Consolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Consolation and Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Jewish Consolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Mourning and Consolation in Judaism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Consolation in the Jewish Wisdom Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Consolation in the Jewish Prophetic Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Consolation in Jewish Apocalypticism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
87 90 97 105
Chapter Five: How People Cope with Prejudice: The Findings of Modern Social Psychology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 Strategies for Coping with Prejudice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 Problem-Focused Coping Strategies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Emotion-Focused Coping Strategies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
117 122
Moderators for Choosing Coping Strategies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 The Costs and Consequences of Coping . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 Conclusion: Coping and Consolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
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Chapter Six: “Born again to a living hope” (1 Pet 1:1–12): Initial Words of Consolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 “To the elect sojourners” (1 Pet 1:1–2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 “Blessed be God” (1 Pet 1:3–12) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 “God has caused us to be born again” (1 Pet 1:3–5) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “In this you rejoice” (1 Pet 1:6–9) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “Concerning which salvation the prophets enquired” (1 Pet 1:10–12) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
142 148 152
Chapter Seven: “Set your hope fully” (1 Pet 1:13–2:10): Coping with Prejudice through Apocalyptic “Disidentification” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156 Reorienting One’s Values (1 Pet 1:13) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 Restructuring One’s Identity (1 Pet 1:14–2:10) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 “As obedient children” (1 Peter 1:14–16) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “If you call on a father who judges impartially” (1 Peter 1:17–21) . . . . . . . . . . . “Having purified your souls for genuine sibling love” (1 Pet 1:22–25) . . . . . . . “As newborn infants” (1 Peter 2:1–3) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “As living stones … a spiritual house” (1 Pet 2:4–10) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
161 163 166 167 171
Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172
Chapter Eight: “To silence the ignorance of the foolish” (1 Pet 2:11–3:12): Coping with Prejudice through “Behavioral Compensation” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 “Having good behavior among the gentiles” (1 Pet 2:11–12) . . . . . . . . . . . . 175 “Submit to every human institution” (1 Pet 2:13–3:7) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178 Christian Behavior toward the State (1 Pet 2:13–17) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Christian Behavior in the oi\ko~ (1 Pet 2:18–3:7) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
178 183
“Finally, you should all strive to live in harmony” (1 Pet 3:8–12) . . . . . . . . 191
Chapter Nine: “Keeping a good conscience” (1 Pet 3:13–4:11): Coping with Prejudice through “Attributional Ambiguity” . . . 192 Attributional Ambiguity and Attribution Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 “But even if you should suffer …” (1 Pet 3:13–14a) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197 “With meekness and respect” (1 Pet 3:14b-16) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199
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“It is better to suffer as one who does good” (1 Pet 3:17–22) . . . . . . . . . . . . 206 “… and that is why they slander you” (1 Pet 4:1–6) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210 “The end of all things is near” (1 Pet 4:7–11) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212
Chapter Ten: “Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal” (1 Pet 4:12–5:14): Concluding Words of Consolation . . . . . . . . . . . 214 Cyrenaic Consolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 “Time has come for judgment to begin” (1 Pet 4:12–19) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 “Be examples to the flock” (1 Pet 5:1–5) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229 “Humble yourselves under the hand of God” (1 Pet 5:6–11) . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 “I have written to exhort and to testify” (1 Pet 5:12–14) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Plates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 Reference Works . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 Ancient Sources: Texts, Editions, and Translations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Secondary Literature Cited . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249 Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279 Primary Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279 Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311
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Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, Series The following table contains abbreviations not found in P. H. Alexander, et al., eds., The SBL Handbook of Style (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1999). References to ancient Greek and Latin sources follow the abbreviations used in H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, and H. S. Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon (9th ed.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1940), G. W. J. Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969), and P. G. W. Glare, The Oxford Latin Dictionary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1983), though in a few instances I have expanded an abbreviation for clarity. References to papyri should be decipherable on the basis of F. Preisigke and E. Kiessling, Wörterbuch der griechischen Papyrusurkunden (4 vols.; Berlin; Göttingen: Selbstverlag, 1925–44) vol. 1:x-xii. and vol. 4:vii–x, and Supplement 1 (Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1971) vii–xii, and Supplement 2 (Wiesbaden: Harrasowitz, 1991) vii–xi. Abbreviations for the titles of social scientific journals used in this study are not given in this table, since I have spelled out these titles in full in the notes and in the bibliography. AAntHung AE AFLA AFLD AIRF ALCP AnSt APAW ASNSP ASNU AuC BAK BDAG
BET BGU BKAW BKP BO BT CCh
Acta Antiqua Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae L’année épigraphique Annales de la Faculté des Lettres et Sciences Humaines d’Aix Annales de la Faculté des Lettres et Sciences Humaines de Dakar Acta Instituti romani Finlandiae Annali del Liceo classico G. Garibaldi di Palermo Antolian Studies Abhandlungen. Preussische Akademie der Wissenschaften Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa Acta seminarii neotestamentici upsaliensis Antike und Christentum Beiträge zur Altertumskunde A Greek English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, ed. W. Bauer, F. W. Danker, et al., 4th ed., Chicago, 2000 Beiträge zur evangelischen Theologie Ägyptische Urkunden aus den Königlichen Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin: Griechische Urkunden Bibliothek der klassischen Altertumswissenschaften Beiträge zur klassischen Philologie Bibiotheca orientalis Bibliotheca Teubneriana Continuity and Change
XIV CeS CIL CIMRM ClAnt CLE CNRS CollLatomus CPJ CTA DELG DK ECC EvTh HBS IGR ILCV ILS JAOS JRS JSJSup KAV KP LCL LD LSJ MBPF MGWJ NHS NTG NTApoc OCD OCT OECT OSAP OTP P&P PGL PGM
Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, Series
Civilizations et sociétés Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, ed. T. Mommsen, et al. Berlin, 1863 – Corpus Inscriptionm et Monumentorum Religionis Mithraicae, ed. Vermaseren, The Hague, 1956–60 Classical Antiquity Carmina Latina Epigraphica, ed. F. Bücheler and E. Lommatzsch, Leipzig, 1895–1926 Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique Collection Latomus Corpus Papyrorum Judicarum, ed. V. A. Tcherikover and A. Fuks, Cambridge, MA, 1957–64 Corpus des tablettes en cunéiformes alphabétiques, ed. A. Herder, Paris, 1963 Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque, ed. P. Chantraine, Paris, 1968–80 Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, ed. H. Diels and W. Kranz, 6th ed., Berlin, 1974–5 Early Christianity in Context Evangelische Theologie Herders Biblische Studien Inscriptiones Graecae Urbis Romae Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae veteres Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae Journal of the American Oriental Society Journal of Roman Studies Journal for the Study of Judaism Supplement Series Kommentar zu den Apostolischen Vätern Der kleine Pauly Loeb Classical Library Lection divina A Greek-English Lexicon, ed. H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, and H. S. Jones, 9th ed., Oxford, 1940 Münchener Beiträge zur Paprusforschung und antiken Rechtsgeschichte Monatschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums Nag Hammadi Studies New Testament Guides New Testament Apocrypha, 2 vols., ed. E. Hennecke and W. Schneemelcher, trans. R. McL. Wilson, Philadelphia, 1992 Oxford Classical Dictionary, ed. S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth, 3rd ed., Oxford, 1996 Bibliotheca Oxoniensis (Oxford Classical Texts) Oxford Early Christian Texts Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy. Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. Charlesworth, 2 vols., New York, 1983–5 Past and Present A Patristic Greek Lexicon, ed. G. W. H. Lampe, Oxford, 1961 Papyri Graecae Magicae, ed. K. Preisendanz, Leipzig, 1928–31
Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, Series
PIBA PIR 2 PMG PMS PTS PW(PWSup)
RecAug RhM RIDA RVV SBS SCHNT SCI SEG STA STAC SVF SVTP ThLZ TRG/RHD TrGF TU TUGAL TWAT TWNT VCSup YCS ZThG ZKG ZPE
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Proceedings of the Irish Biblical Association Prosopographia imperii romani Saeculi I. II. III., Berlin, 1933 – Poetae Melici Graeci, ed. D. L. Page, Oxford, 1962 Patristic Monograph Series Patristische Texte und Studien Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, ed. G. Wissowa, W. Kroll, et al. 24 vols., 19 vols., and supplement (15 vols.), Stuttgart, 1893–1980 Recherches augustiniennes Rheinisches Museum für Philologie Revue Internationale des Droits de l’Antiquité Religionsversuche und Vorarbeiten Stuttgarter Bibelstudien Studia ad corpus hellenisticum Novi Testamenti Scripta Classica Israelica Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum, ed. J. Hondius, et al. Alphen aan den Rijn and Amsterdam, 1923 – Studia et Testimonia Antiqua Studien und Texte zu Antike und Christentum Stoicorum veterum fragmenta, ed. H. von Arnim, Leipzig, 1904–24 Studia in Vetus Testamenti pseudepigraphca Theologische Literaturzeitung Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis/Revue d‘Histoire du Droit Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, ed. B. Snell et al., Göttingen, 1971 – Text und Untersuchungen Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur Wörtenbuch zum Alten Testament. ed. H.-J. Fabry, et al., Stuttgart. 1973–2000 Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament, ed. G. Kittel. Stuttgart, 1935–79 Supplements to Vigiliae christianae Yale Classical Studies Zeitschrift für Theologie und Gemeinde Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik
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List of Plates 1. Alexamenos Graffito (Palatine Museum; with permission of the Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Roma). 2. Detail of the Alexamenos Graffito showing the head and a possible titulus.
1
Introduction Modern social psychology has devoted a significant share of its resources to the study of human prejudice. Most research to date has focused on those groups that exhibit prejudice, the objective being to uncover the different cognitive and motivational processes that give rise to prejudiced attitudes and behaviors. However, a number of recent studies have begun to investigate prejudice from the perspective of its “targets.”1 These studies have shown prejudice to be a powerful stressor that places unique and often costly demands on its targets. They have also identified a number of strategies that targets of prejudice use to cope with their predicaments. These findings hold real promise for scholars of early Christianity, for not only were early Christians frequently the targets of religious prejudice – they were to become its perpetrators soon enough!2 – but 1 Because the members of socially stigmatized groups actively seek to cope with their predicaments, social psychologists studying these groups avoid the term “victim” with its connotations of passive suffering and speak instead of the “targets” of prejudice, a term that leaves room for a degree of agency and self-determination. Social psychology’s early neglect of the targets of prejudice was noted already in 1974 by G. Harrison, “A Bias in the Social Psychology of Prejudice,” in Nigel G. Armistead, ed., Reconstructing Social Psychology (Baltimore, MD: Penguin Education, 1974) 189–204; see more recently, Gary Collier, Henry L. Minton, and Graham Reynolds, Currents of Thought in American Social Psychology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991); Sandra Graham, “‘Most of the Subjects Were White and Middle Class’: Trends in Published Research on African Americans and Selected APA Journals, 1970–1989,” American Psychologist 47 (1992) 629–39. Two notable exceptions to this general neglect of the target’s perspective are Erving Goffman, Stigma: Notes on the Management of a Spoiled Identity (Englewood Cliff, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1963), and Morris Rosenberg and Roberta G. Simmons, Black and White Self-Esteem: The Urban School Child (Washington, D.C.: American Sociological Association, 1972). 2 E.g., G. E. M. de Ste. Croix, “Heresy, Schism, and Persecution in the Later Roman Empire,” in idem (Michael Whitby and Joseph Streeter, eds.), Christian Persecution, Martyrdom, and Orthodoxy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006) 201–29: “the Christian Church – or rather churches – became during the fourth and following centuries, and remained for more than a millennium and a half, the greatest organized persecuting force in human history” (201); cf. Timothy D. Barnes, “From Toleration to Suppression: The Evolution of Constantine’s Religious Policies,” Scripta Classica Israelica 21 (2002) 189–207; and now, Michael Gaddis, There Is No Crime for Those Who Have Christ (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005). That triumphant Christians were quick to persecute was already pointed out by late antique “pagan” historians such Eunapius and Zozimus, and to a lesser degree by Ammianus Marcellinus, later to be taken up with a passion by Montesquieu and Gibbon, and with a more philosophical bent (regarding the nature of polytheism and theism) by Hume, for which see
2
Introduction
much of what they wrote sought either directly or indirectly to address this problem. In this study I apply these recent findings from social psychology to the early Christian pseudepigraphon known as 1 Peter. My thesis is that 1 Peter marks one of the earliest attempts, perhaps the earliest attempt, by a Christian author to craft a more or less comprehensive response to anti-Christian prejudice and its outcomes. Unlike later Apologists, however, who also wrote in response to anti-Christian prejudice,3 the author of 1 Peter does not seek to influence directly the thoughts and actions of those hostile to Christianity, but writes instead for his beleaguered coreligionists, consoling them in their suffering and advising them on how to cope with popular prejudice and the persecution it engendered. As we shall see, the coping strategies he recommends are strikingly similar to strategies currently being described by modern social psychologists studying the targets of prejudice. I have divided the study into two parts. Part 1 is entitled “Encountering Prejudice: On the Occasion of 1 Peter” and consists of three chapters. Virtually all New Testament scholars today agree that the occasion of 1 Peter lies with the conflict between its Christian readers and their non-Christian neighbors.4 In these early chapters I argue that this conflict may be further specified as deriving from a rapidly developing anti-Christian prejudice, which prejudice has been rendered particularly salient by the fact that it is finding a ready ear in the provincial courts where Christians are being accused and successfully prosecuted by their neighbors. I begin in chapter 1 with a brief discussion of the standard topics of historical and literary introduction – the literary integrity of 1 Peter, its authorship, date, and original readership – leaving aside for the moment the letter’s occasion. There is presently a general consensus on these topics, and since I have only a few additional points to make, my discussion of them is brief. I then review in chapter 2 the findings of modern social psychology on the nature and causes of prejudice, including how targets of prejudice experience their plight. Lastly in chapter 3 I apply these findings to a description of antiChristian prejudice as the occasion of 1 Peter. I conclude: (1) that social prejudice played a determinative role in the persecution of early Christians, including the readers of 1 Peter; (2) that this prejudice constituted an ever-present source of stress and anxiety – actual persecutions may have been “local and sporadic” but anti-Christian prejudice and the very real threat it posed was for the most part ubiquitous and constant – and (3) that a careful comparison with Joseph Streeter, “Religious Toleration in Classical Antiquity and Early Christianity,” in Ste. Croix, et al., Christian Persecution, Martyrdom, and Orthodoxy, 229–251. 3 See chapter 3 below. 4 This is in contrast to earlier studies which saw in 1 Peter a early Christian baptismal sermon or baptismal liturgy. Even these studies, however, understood 1 Pet 4:12ff. as an appended “letter” addressing a conflict situation. See chapter 1 below.
Introduction
3
modern prejudice studies casts significant light on this important but generally overlooked aspect of early Christian experience.5 Part 2 is entitled “Coping with Prejudice: On the Argument of 1 Peter” and consists seven chapters. Here I apply the findings from Part 1 to a reading of 1 Peter as a response to anti-Christian prejudice and it outcomes. I begin with two prefatory chapters in which I consider the various strategies the author of 1 Peter might have employed as he sought first to console his readers in their suffering and then to advise them in how best to cope with anti-Christian prejudice (chapters 4 and 5 respectively).6 In the remaining chapters (chapters 6–10) I apply the findings from these two chapters, alongside the conclusions from Part 1, to a reading of 1 Peter as a response to anti-Christian prejudice. Since the contours of this reading can be readily discerned from the table of contents, I will not repeat them here, except to call attention to the fact that the author of 1 Peter’s coping advice comes mostly in the central portion of the letter (1:13–4:11), and that his efforts at consolation are concentrated at the letter’s beginning and end (1:1–12; 4:12–5:14). In describing the hostility felt toward Christians in the early Roman Empire as “prejudice” I do not mean to imply that this hostility was unfounded. On the contrary, Christians obviously did pose a threat to the Roman Empire, as subsequent history was quick to show, and it was reasonable for the Romans to fear them, especially as the movement began to grow in numbers and in influence.7 The fact that these fears quickly (and predictably) expressed themselves in social prejudice with all of its characteristic distortions and excesses says nothing about the legitimacy of Roman anxieties, and a full history of the relationship between Christian and non-Christian in the early Roman Empire would have to take this into account.8 My objective here is only to describe as accurately as possible the nature of the troubled relationships early Christians had with their neighbors (and through them with the Roman government) and to examine the role these troubled relationships played in the daily lives of these Christians,
5 I do not mean to imply by this that ancient and modern prejudice are wholly identical, or that the findings of modern empirical social psychology can be mapped directly onto the ancient evidence. But neither do I imagine that modern and ancient prejudice are radically different species of human social interaction such that a familiarity with modern prejudice studies can be of no help in interpreting the ancient materials. Not the least of these benefits is that modern studies encourage conceptual clarity and descriptive precision in our analysis. 6 The latter of second chapters (chapter 5) is especially central to my argument, since it surveys the work currently underway by social psychologists on the various coping strategies deployed by targets of prejudice. For the relationship between consolation and coping, see my comments at the end of chapter 5 below. 7 For inter-group threat as one of the principal causes of prejudice, see chapter 2 below. 8 I speak to the legitimacy of these fears in passing in my discussion of the causes of prejudice below in chapter 2. This topic also surfaces from time to time in part 2.
4
Introduction
including how these Christians sought to cope as the targets of social prejudice. My reading of 1 Peter as a response to anti-Christian prejudice and its outcomes obviously hinges on my understanding of the type of conflict – conflict expressive of social prejudice – evidenced in the letter. I discuss this conflict in detail in chapters 2 and 3 below. But so as not to miss the forest for the trees, let me briefly summarize my understanding of it here. Scholars have imagined the conflict underlying 1 Peter in essentially two ways: (1) as government-sponsored persecution – a view popular in the past but now largely abandoned9 – or (2) as popular hostility that stops short of state action – presently the majority opinion.10 As different as these views are, they both rest upon a common assumption, which in my view is also their fundamental flaw. They both assume that a hard and fast separation should be made between popular animosity and official persecution: either the state is acting alone, as in view 1, or local residents are acting alone, as in view 2. But as David Horrell has very recently observed, “to pose as alternatives informal public hostility and official Roman persecution [is] to misconstrue the situation that pertained, broadly speaking, from the time of Nero until the third-century persecution under Decius.”11 Horrell’s own view is a kind of via media between these two extremes. After duly noting the accusatorial nature of the Roman provincial courts – which is to say that these courts did not prosecute offenders so much as hear accusations against them brought by private citizens – Horrell goes on to say:12 precisely the kind of public hostility and antagonism that most [interpreters] rightly see lying behind 1 Peter can lead to Christians being accused and brought to court. And when this happens, if they acknowledge the name ‘Christian’, they are liable to punishment and 9 This appears to be the view of Leonhard Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief (KEKNT 12/1; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978) 61–2, who imagines provincial authorities (alle Behörden des Imperiums) proceeding against Christians based on the general unpopularity of Christians and on Nero’s police action (Polizeiaktion) in Rome; cf. Norbert Brox, Der erste Petrusbrief (EKKNT 21; Zurich: Neukirchener, 1979) 27. For a more general discussion along these lines, see Paul Keresztes, “The Imperial Roman Government and the Christian Church I: From Nero to the Severi,” ANRW 2.23.1.247–315, esp. 279–87. 10 E.g., John H. Elliott, 1 Peter: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 37B; New York: Doubleday, 2000) 794: “there is no basis for claiming that at the time of 1 Peter Christianity had been officially proscribed by Rome and that being labeled a Christian implied being charged as a criminal.” On the topic of Christians as criminals, see my discussion of kakopoiov~ (“criminal”; 2:12) below in chapters 3 and 8 below; correctly, Brox, Der erste Petrusbrief, 113: “als Kriminelle diffamiert.” 11 David G. Horrell, 1 Peter (NTG; London: T & T Clark, 2008) 56–8. 12 Horrell, 1 Peter, 57 (emphasis original). I am slightly uncomfortable (only slightly) with Horrell’s reference to “imperial” hostility. I would rather speak of gubernatorial hostility, in as much as it was the provincial governor’s stance toward Christians that made the biggest difference for Christians. This point has been made by Timothy D. Barnes, “Legislation Against the Christians,” JRS 58 (1968) 49–50. Of course, Roman governors served at the pleasure of the emperor, as the author of 1 Peter himself makes plain (2:13–14).
Introduction
5
execution. In other words it was a combination of public and imperial hostility that resulted in formal action against Christians.
I think this is exactly right.13 The only thing I would wish to add is that the anti-Christian “hostility and antagonism” Horrell envisages may be helpfully described as social prejudice with all that that means. It will be the burden of this study to demonstrate the advantages of this description.14
13 This is essentially the view now taken by Reinhard Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus (THKNT 15/1; Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2005). 14 Three of these advantages may be briefly listed here. First, by describing anti- Christian hostility during this period as the result of social prejudice we invite comparison with modern prejudice studies (chapters 2 and 5 below). Second, we gain a better sense of the lived experience of early Christians, which has I think largely been lost sight of today. To take but one obvious example: the persecution of Christians is almost universally described in the commentary tradition as “local and sporadic.” This is, of course, technically true. But it is also technically true that the lynching of Blacks in pre-Civil Rights America was “local and sporadic.” Needless to say, such language does little to capture the constant physical and emotional stress of such an experience, which is better appreciated, I think, if we speak instead of intense social prejudice. Finally, and continuing with the above analogy, just as intense and wide-spread social prejudice influenced both public opinion and the courts in pre-Civil Rights America, so anti- Christian prejudice influenced the courts in the early Roman Empire. This is a key observation and greatly strengthens Horrell’s insight that popular outcry led easily to judicial persecution. Christians were hauled to court by their prejudiced neighbors where they faced judges who like their accusers were similarly prejudiced against them, and where there was little if any procedural justice to protect them.
6
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8
Chapter One
Locating 1 Peter: 1 Peter As an Early Christian Pseudepigraphal Letter … in Asia presbyterum qui eam scripturam construxit, quasi titulo Pauli de suo cumulans, convictum atque confessum id se amore Pauli fecisse loco decessisse.*
My objective in these first three chapters is to reassess the evidence for the occasion of 1 Peter and to propose what I believe will be a more fruitful way of imagining that occasion. I agree with the majority of scholars who have worked on 1 Peter over the past half century or so1 that the occasion of 1 Peter lies with the conflict between its original readers and their non-Christian neighbors. 2 However, I believe that it is possible to be more specific about the nature of this conflict, and over the course of the next three chapters I will argue that the readers of 1 Peter have become the targets of social prejudice and that this prejudice and its various outcomes – which include an ever-present threat of prosecution in the provincial courts – along with the easy-to-imagine fears and anxieties that these outcomes produced, constitute the proper occasion of 1 Peter. I will approach the question of the occasion of 1 Peter through the traditional topics of historical introduction: literary integrity, authorship, date, original readership, and of course the letter’s specific occasion, in so far as that can be ascertained. Since there is now a general consensus among scholars regarding the first four of these (integrity, authorship, date, and readership), and since I will not depart significantly from this consensus I will discuss these topics to-
* Tertullian, De baptismo 17. 1 A turning point in the modern study of 1 Peter was Eduard Lohse’s programmatic essay, “Paränese und Kerygma im 1. Petrusbrief,” ZNW 45 (1954) 68–89, which was in part prepared for by Edward Gordon Sewlyn’s important The First Epistle of St. Peter (London: Macmillan, 1946; 2nd ed., 1955). Prior to Lohse, the tendency among critical interpreters was to see in 1 Peter something other than a “letter” written for a concrete social situation (see below). 2 E.g., Udo Schnelle, The History and Theology of the New Testament Writings (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998) 404: “A decisive factor for determining the circumstances of the addressees of 1 Peter is the interpretation of the conflict situation presupposed in the parenetic sections dealing with suffering” (emphasis original).
Chapter One: Locating 1 Peter
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gether in this first chapter. I will consider the fifth topic (occasion) separately and in more detail in chapters 2 and 3 below.
Literary Integrity The integrity of the 1 Peter has been challenged on both literary-critical and form-critical grounds.3 The literary-critical case was first made by Richard Perdelwitz in his influential monograph, Die Mysterienreligion und das Problem des 1. Petrusbriefes.4 Building on the work of Adolf von Harnack, 5 Perdelwitz proposed that 1 Peter was an early baptismal sermon that had been fitted into an epistolary framework. But whereas Harnack had preserved the general integrity of 1 Peter by proposing that the original sermon extended from 1:3 to 5:11, Perdelwitz argued that a major redactional seam was discernible between 4:11 and 4:12, and that 4:12–5:11 constituted an appended consolatory note. 6 Perdelwitz offered two arguments for his division of the letter: first, that the doxology of 4:11 would provide a natural ending for a sermon, while the fresh start at 4:12 could mark the beginning of the main portion of a separate letter; and second, and closer to issues that still exercise interpreters, that 4:12–5:11 reflects a different set of circumstances (physical persecution versus public verbal abuse) than those reflected in 1:3–4:11 and thus signals a later addition. To be sure, it is possible to imagine a redactional seam after the doxology of 4:11, just as it is possible if one is so inclined to imagine redactional seams with virtually every major sectional division in an ancient document.7 But there is no compelling reason to do so. It was common practice among Greco-Roman speakers and writers to signal the end of a section of discourse with a wellturned phrase or sententia that served as a concluding sentence or clausula.8 3
Schnelle, The History and Theology of the New Testament Writings, 407. E. Richard Perdelwitz, Die Mysterienreligion und das Problem des 1. Petrusbriefes (RVV 11/3; Giessen: Töpelmann, 1911); cf. Hans Windisch, Die katholischen Briefe (2nd ed.; HNT 15; Tübingen: Mohr, 1930); Francis W. Beare, The First Epistle of Peter (3rd ed.; Oxford: Blackwell, 1947); most recently, Philipp Vielhauer, Geschichte der urchristlichen Literatur (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1975). 5 Adolf von Harnack, Geschichte der altchristlichen Litteratur bis Eusebius (2 vols.; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1897) 2:451–65; followed earlier by W. Soltau, “Die Einheitlichkeit des ersten Petrusbriefes,” TSK 78 (1905) 302–15, and somewhat later by Wilhelm Bornemann, “Der erste Petrusbrief: Eine Taufrede des Silvanus?” ZNW 19 (1919–20) 143–65. 6 Though this partitioning of the letter is now generally rejected, Perdelwitz’s characterization of 4:12ff as a “consolatory note” is to my mind a lasting insight. 7 To be fair, Perdelwitz and the other scholars surveyed here wrote at a time in which Quellenforschung was very much the vogue in German-speaking and to a lesser degree English-speaking scholarship. This was an important period of research, and many ancient authors otherwise lost have been recovered. 8 Quint., Inst. 8.5.13. These took many forms. Two popular forms were the summary 4
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This was especially true in the early Principate, as evidenced by Quintilian’s complaint at Inst. 8.5.13–14:9 But now they want every separate topic … every sentence at the end of a development to strike the ear. Indeed, they think it shameful, even criminal, to take a breath at a place that does not draw applause. The result is that our discourses today are strewn with tiny, affected, and far-fetched ditties. For there simply cannot be as many good sententiae as there must be clausulae.
In religious texts, theological sentences and doxologies were often employed for similar purposes.10 Paul, whose letters at least indirectly informed 1 Peter,11 was particularly fond of this, as Johannes Weiss noted more than a century ago when he spoke of “die Clauseln, mit denen der Apostel grössere oder kleinere Abschnitte zu Ende führt.”12 Paul’s letter to the Romans, which like 1 Peter affects (conclusio; discussed at: Rh. Her. 4.30.41; Cic., Top. 13.54; 14.56–57; Quint., Inst. 5.10.2; 5.14.1, 20) and the exclamation (epiphonema; discussed at: Quint., Inst. 8.5.11; Demetr., Eloc. 2.106), both of which probably apply mutatis mutandis to 1 Pet 4:11. 9 For a general discussion of this phenomenon, the so-called ardens style, see Janet Fairweather, Seneca the Elder (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1981); cf. A. D. Leeman, Orationis Ratio: The Stylistic Theories and Practice of the Roman Orators Historians and Philosophers (Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1963) 219–242, 260–283. The younger Seneca was famous for this (Quint., Inst. 10.1.125–31; Fronto, Ep. ad Marc. de orat. 4 = Haines 2.104), though he stopped short of the excesses of which Quintilian here complains; see Aldo Setaioli, “Seneca e lo stile,” ANRW 2.32.2: 815: “un modernista moderato”; cf. J. Oroz-Reta, “Séneca y el estilo ‘nuevo’,” Helmantica 16 (1965) 319–365. 10 I discuss the phenomenon at length in “Paul’s Pointed Prose: The Sententia in Roman Rhetoric and Paul,” NovT 40 (1998) 32–53. On doxologies in particular, see Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 21 n. 99, who lists Rom 1:25; 11:36; Eph 3:20–21; 1 Clem. 20:12; 32:4; 38:4; 45:7; 50:7; 58:2; 61:3; 64; 65:2; cf. Paul J. Achtemeier, 1 Peter: A Commentary on First Peter (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996) 292: “such a doxology is used far more frequently within the body of a letter than as its conclusion.” 11 Goppelt, Der Erste Petrusbrief, 48–51; see the recent discussion by David G. Horrell, “The Product of Petrine Circle? A Reassessment of the Origin and Character of 1 Peter,” JSNT 24 (2002) 29–60, who corrects both Jens Herzer, Petrus oder Paulus? Studien über das Verhältnis des Ersten Petrusbriefes zur paulinischen Tradition (WUNT 103; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998), and Elliott, 1 Peter, 37–40. 12 Johannes Weiss, “Beiträge zur Paulinischen Rhetorik,” in Theologische Studien, Bernhard Weiss zu seinem 70. Geburtstag dargebracht (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1897) 189 n. 1; cf. idem, Die Aufgaben der neutestamentlichen Wissenschaft (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1908) 17, 20. Also: C. F. Georg Heinrici, “Zum Hellenismus des Paulus,” in idem, Der zweite Brief an die Korinther (MeyerK 6/8; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1900) 454: “absichtsvolle Abrundung der einzelnen Gedankengruppen…in schwer wiegenden, bisweilen rhythmisch ausklingenden Schlussentenzen”; idem, Der litterarische Charakter der neutestamentlichen Schriften (Leipzig: Durr, 1908) 66–69, an assessment that holds true even if Heinrici’s more general contentions about Paul’s abilities are overstated (so Eduard Norden, Die antike Kuntsprosa, 2 vols. [Leipzig: Teubner, 1898] 492–510); cf. Rudolf Bultmann, Der Stil der paulinishen Predigt und die kynisch-stoische Diatribe, (FRLANT 13; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1910) 94: “Paulus liebt es, in seine Erörterung scharf formulierte Sentenzen einzuflechten.”
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a more elevated prose style, provides a number examples.13 To the attuned ear, the presence of this device signaled that a section of discourse had come to a close, but it did not indicate that the discourse itself was over, since more often than not a fresh topic was introduced and the discourse continued. The question, then, is not whether 4:11 might in theory mark the end of a sermon, but whether 4:12ff. continues the discourse with the introduction of a new topic.14 This brings us to Perdelwitz’s second argument that the physical persecution implied in 4:12–5:11 reflects a changed situation from the mere public verbal abuse implied in 1:3–4:11, and that therefore 4:12–5:11 does not in fact continue that earlier unit of discourse. At first glance there appears to be good textual evidence for this view. In 2:14, for instance, governors are envisaged positively as those who praise the good and punish only the wicked (eij~ ejkdivkhsin kakopoiw`n e[painon de; ajgaqopoiw`n) rather than those who join in the persecution of the righteous as would seem to be implied in 4:12–19. Similarly, in 3:14 persecution is imagined simply as a possibility (ajll j eij kai; pavscoite), whereas in 4:12 it is treated as a present reality (mh; xenivzesqe th ejn uJmi'n purwvsei … ginomevnh/). Furthermore, prior to 4:12 Christians are the victims of slander and verbal abuse (e.g., katalalou'sin uJmw`n wJ~ kakopoiw`n, 2:12; th;n tw`n ajfrovnwn ajnqrwvpwn ajgnwsivan, 2:15; blasfhmou'nte~, 4:4), which, so the argument goes, is a long way from legal prosecution and punishment.15 On fuller reflection, however, this analysis falters on a number of points, particularly as regards the rhetoric of 1 Peter and the actual circumstances of early Christian persecution. I will return to both of these topics repeatedly over the course of this book,16 but for now let me make the following counter-observations. First, and quickly, the optative pavscoite in 3:14 does not mean that at the time of writing the physical persecution of Christians has yet to occur, that everywhere and for all Christians persecution remains a mere possibility, but only that for any particular Christian – or more likely, for any particular local group of Christians (note the plural) – it might not occur.17 13 Paul’s favorite type of concluding sentence is the summarizing conclusio (e.g., Rom 3:20; 4:25). At Rom 8:38–39 and again at 11:33–36 he employs extended crescendos or exclamations known in the rhetorical handbook tradition as epiphonemata (cf. Quint., Inst. 8.5.14–15, who cites Cic., Pro Lig. 4.10; Pro Mil. 4.9; and Virg, Aen. 1.33). The doxology that concludes Rom 11:33–36 (aujtw`/ hJ dovxa eij~ tou;~ aijw`na~, ajmh;n) is similar in both form and function to 1 Pet 4:12. 14 On the continuation of 1:1–4:11 in 4:12ff., see Angelika Reichert, Eine urchristliche Praeparatio ad Martyrium: Studien zur Komposition, Traditionsgeschichte und Theologie des 1. Petrusbriefes (BET 22; Frankfurt: Lang, 1989) 46–59. 15 This last point continues to be made even by those who hold to the unity of the letter; e.g., Elliott, 1 Peter, 100–1, 795. 16 See esp. chapter 3 below. 17 It is as if someone today were to say, “But even if you are audited by the IRS, you are blessed,” which no one – except perhaps a certain type of Biblical scholar! – would interpret to mean that the Internal Revenue Service has heretofore never audited anyone.
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Second, it is anachronistic to imagine a sharp distinction between popular hostility and judicial prosecution in the early Roman Empire, especially as regards the trials of such publicly despised groups as Christians. On the contrary, the public and ad hoc nature of the provincial cognitio or judicial “investigation”18 allowed popular outcry to lead seamlessly to judicial prosecution, with the result that popular hostility and judicial sanction often went hand in glove.19 Indeed, this became such a problem in the trials of early Christians that even Roman emperors took notice and tried to correct it. Thus Trajan in his famous rescript to Pliny20 prohibits trials on the basis of published lists of Christians. Even more revealing is Hadrian’s rescript to Fundanus, 21 which explicitly addresses the fact that Christians are being successfully indicted by the shouts of the courtroom crowd, a practice that so angered him that he concluded his letter with an oath! I will return to these important documents below in chapter 3. Third, the seemingly positive assessment about governors at 1 Pet 2:14 – that they have been sent by the emperor to punish bad people and praise good people – is a parade example of Roman imperial propaganda and should by no means be read as a straightforward description either of life in the provinces or of the way the author of 1 Peter feels about Roman provincial justice. That this has been overlooked by interpreters is striking and is, I guess, an indication of just how blind we remain even today to the rhetoric of imperialism. That said, there are several responsible ways to read 2:14, ranging from Marxist “false consciousness” to the kind of social “hybridity” evident in so many colonial cultures, not all of which are mutually exclusive. My own view, which I will develop below, is that 2:14 is a case of a subaltern minority consciously appropriating a piece of imperial propaganda, what Scott calls the “public transcript,” to leverage the
18
See the discussion below in chapter 3. Ernest Cadman Colewell, “Popular Reactions against Christianity in the Roman Empire,” in John T. McNeill, Matthew Spinka, and Harold R. Willoughby, eds., Environmental Factors in Christian History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1939) 53–71; more recently, Reinhard Feldmeier, “The ‘Nation’ of Strangers: Social Contempt and its Theological Interpretations in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity,” in Mark G. Brett, ed., Ethnicity and the Bible (Leiden: Brill, 1996) 240–70: “official proceedings against Paul always began with enraged citizens” (252; citing Acts 14:4–5; 16:19–22; 17:8, 13; 19:23–40; 21:27–40), and: “the persecution logia speak of Christians being delivered up to judgment by their own neighbors, even by their own relatives (ibid.; citing Mark 13:9–13; Matt 10:17–18; Luke 21:12–17); cf. David G. Horrell, “Leiden als Discriminierung und Martyrium: (Selbst-)Stigmatisierung und Sozial-Identität am Beispiel des ersten Petrusbriefes,” in Gerd Theissen and Petra von Gemünden, eds., Erkennen und Erleben: Beiträge zur psychologischen Erforschung des frühen Christentums (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2007) 119–132, esp. 120–1: who rightly describes social discrimination against early Christians and their judicial accusation as points on a continuous “Spektrum.” 20 Pliny, Ep. 10.97. 21 Just., 1 Apol. 68.6–10; reproduced at Eus., Hist. eccl. 4.9.1–3. 19
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way they are treated by those in power. 22 Something like: “The Romans say that their goverors reward ‘those who do good’ (ajgaqopoioiv), so let’s present ourselves to them as ‘do-gooders’ (ajgaqopoiou'nte~).”23 But however we decide to interpret 1 Pet 2:14, it should not be read as evidence that at the time it was written Christians were not being subjected to prosecutions in the provincial courts. Indeed, the decision to appeal to official propaganda relating to those courts argues just the opposite. Fourth, Perdelwiz seems to assume that at any given time Christians would have been treated in a uniform fashion across the five provinces mentioned in 1 Pet 1:1, 24 and that therefore when separate portions of a document such as 1 Peter appear to treat separate situations they must be assigned to separate sources composed at different points in time. 25 This shows a lack of historical imagination. If we know anything about the persecution of Christians prior to 250 c.e., it is that local situations varied widely and changed rapidly, and we should not assume that these dynamics were lost on early Christians like the author of 1 Peter. It makes much more sense, therefore, given the scope of his intended audience, to imagine the author of 1 Peter picturing several possible scenarios and saying in effect, “If you find yourself in this type of a situation, do this. If, however, you find yourself in this type of situation, do that.”26 Fifth, and finally, a good case can be made – and I will attempt to make it below – that an actual court appearance is envisaged in 1 Pet 3:13–16, which if true would mean that it is simply factually incorrect to say that the first part of 1 Peter (1:3–4:11) treats only verbal abuse and not judicial sanction, a distinction that I would qualify on other grounds, as I have already indicated. 27 Virtually all commentators today rightly reject Perdelwitz’s literary critical arguments for partitioning 1 Peter. 22 James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990). 23 Note that the opponents of these early Christians were playing the same game. Roman propaganda claimed that governors punished “those who do evil” (kakopoioiv) and that is precisely what they accused Christians of being: katalalou'sin uJmw`n wJ~ kakopoiw`n (2:12). 24 1 Peter’s pseudepigraphy notwithstanding, it is commonly assumed that these provinces indicate at least something of the area the author of 1 Peter had in mind when he wrote his letter. 25 I suspect this narrowness is due to the fact that most New Testament scholars take Paul’s letters to be paradigmatic. Paul’s letters were indeed written to a particular local situation, but this cannot be the case with “circular” letters like 1 Peter and James, a point that remains true even if these are judged to be pseudepigraphal, as I think they should be. 26 Modern coping theory is also relevant here. Coping theory has shown that persons seeking to cope with a stressor typically employ multiple strategies at the same time in the same situation and that these strategies, while serving the same practical objective, may appear to outside observers to be contradictory. See my discussion in chapter 5 below. 27 William L. Schutter, Hermeutic and Composition in I Peter (WUNT 2.30; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 1989) 11–17. See my discussion in chapter 3 below.
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If the literary-critical arguments for partitioning fail, what of the form-critical argument? In his supplement to the 3rd edition of Hans Windisch’s HNT commentary, Herbert Preisker argued that 1 Pet 1:3–4:11 lacked the kind of formal unity one would expect from a polished baptismal homily, and that it must therefore reflect instead an ancient baptismal liturgy, with the actual baptismal act occurring between 1:21 and 1:22. 28 He argued, further, that rather than being an appended consolatory note, 4:12–5:11 was the transcript of a worship service now extended to include the whole congregation. 29 Preisker’s idea was picked up almost immediately by F. L. Cross, who in an effort to be even more specific found in 1 Peter’s language of suffering (pavscein) echoes of a Passover (pavsca) baptismal Eucharist.30 These theories, while certainly erudite and ingenious, are needlessly speculative and are now almost universally rejected. To be sure there are a number of micro-genres employed in 1 Peter, some of which may indeed excerpt earlier sources,31 but these are well integrated into the document and their use can be readily accounted for in terms of the letter’s larger rhetorical concerns. They in no way require that we read 1 Peter as the transcript of an early liturgy. Furthermore, the form-critical argument depends in large part on dated literary-critical judgments, which propose reading 1 Peter as a highly polished homily not an occasional (albeit pseudepigraphal) letter responding to the complexities of a concrete situation. In the absence of these assumptions the form critical argument is mooted. Most scholars today hold with good reason to the literary unity of 1 Peter.32
28 Hans Windisch (Herbert Preisker), Die katholischen Briefe (3rd ed.; HNT 4/2; Tübingen: J. C. Mohr, 1951). 29 Windisch (Preisker), Die katholischen Briefe, 157. 30 F. L. Cross, 1 Peter: A Pascal Liturgy (London: Mowbray, 1954); cf. A. R. C. Leaney, “1 Peter and the Passover: An Interpretation,” NTS 10 (1964) 238–51. 31 E.g., M.-É. Boismard, Quatre hymnes baptismales dans la première épître de Pierre (LD 30; Paris: Cerf, 1961); cf. Rudolf Bultmann, “Bekentnis und Liedfragmente im ersten Petrusbrief,” in Exegetica: Aufsätze zur Erforschung des Neuen Testaments (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1967) 285–97. 32 Thus all the major commentaries: Spicq (SB), Goppelt (KEK), Brox (EKK), Achtemeier (Hermeneia), Elliott (AB), Feldmeier (THKNT).
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Authorship 1 Peter alleges to be written by “Peter the apostle” (1:1a)33 and carried to Christian congregations in the Roman provinces of “Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia” (1:1b) by Paul’s erstwhile co-worker Silvanus (5:12). 34 However, this almost certainly is not the case. To begin with, the style of 1 Peter is much too polished to have been written by the Galilean fisherman Simon bar Jonah, as Peter was known before he acquired his famous sobriquet. Indeed, early tradition is unanimous that Peter was anything but polished. Acts 4:13, for instance, allows that Peter had a certain parrhsiva when speaking under the inspiration of the Spirit, but otherwise presents him as ajgravmmato~ kai; ijdiwvth~. Similarly, Papias imagines Peter in need of a eJrmhneuthv~ in John Mark, who is himself not imagined as a particularly accomplished writer.35 It has been suggested that Silvanus assisted Peter with his Greek, and that this might further account for the Pauline elements in the letter, since Silvanus was an associate of Paul’s.36 But the idiom in 5:12 (dia; Silouanou' … e[graya) is more naturally understood to mean that Silvanus was the alleged letter-carrier not its co-author.37 As for the argument that Silvanus’ participation in the writing of the letter would help account for its Pauline elements, it is just as possible that the direction of influence goes the other way around and that the Pauline sympathies of the author of 1 Peter led to the inclusion of Silvanus’ name to effect a kind of imaginary rapprochement between the two apostles not unlike that found in Luke-Acts.38 It is also odd, on the assumption that Peter actually wrote 1 Peter, that the issues surrounding the conflict between Peter and Paul in Antioch related in Paul’s letter to the Galatians do not surface in the letter.39 According to Gal 2:14, Peter insisted that gentiles observe Jewish food laws: ta; e[qnh ajnagkavzei~ ijoudaivzein. He was, to be sure, rebuked by Paul for this. But there is no indication that he changed his position as a result. Indeed, the fact that Paul conveniently omits the outcome of the confrontation, which if Peter had acquiesced would have cemented his argument in Galatians, makes it almost certain that Peter did not alter his view and that for all practical purposes Paul himself lost 33 Further identified in 5:1 as oJ sumpresbuvtero~ kai; mavrtu~ tw`n tou' Cristou' paqhmavtwn, and in 5:13 as the spiritual father of Mark (Ma'rko~ oJ uiJov~ mou). 34 Cf. 2 Cor 1:19; 1 Thess 1:1; 2 Thess 1:1; known in Acts as “Silas” (Acts 15:22, 27, 32, 34, and passim). 35 Eus. Hist. eccl. 3.39.15. The best that Papias can say for Mark – and he is trying to say nice things – is that he wrote “accurately” (ajkribw`~). Otherwise, he must defend the fact that he did not write an orderly account (ouj mevntoi tavxei). 36 Selwyn, The First Epistle of St. Peter, 9–17. 37 E.g., Brox, Der erste Petrusbrief, 241–43. 38 On 1 Peter’s Pauline elements, see Horrell, “The Product of a Petrine Circle?” 39 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 24–5.
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the day.40 It would be strange, therefore, that in writing to gentiles on Paul’s mission field Peter does not advocate for some form of Torah observance, especially since the author of Matthew, writing in the Petrine tradition, and probably from Antioch, continues to support an anti-Pauline Torah-observant mission to the gentiles.41 Of course, if on other grounds we decide that 1 Peter was written after 70 c.e., as I think we must (see below), the Petrine authorship is excluded by necessity.42 If Peter did not write 1 Peter, who did? And why was Peter chosen to be the ostensible author? These questions cannot be answered with any certainty. The letter is presented as written from Rome,43 and carried to five eastern Roman provinces in a circuit of sorts (1:1).44 But this may also be part of the letter’s fictive origins: Peter, who is about to suffer martyrdom in Rome under Nero, writes in advance of that martyrdom to those suffering similar persecution in the Greek East. There are other considerations placing the author of 1 Peter in Rome, such as similarities with other early Christian documents variously associated with Rome (1 Clement, Shepherd of Hermas, even Paul’s letter to the Romans), but these are far from compelling.45 Ideas traveled quickly in early Christianity, and the fact that 1 Peter claims to have been written at Rome would have guaranteed its early reception there. I think it is more likely that pseudepigraphal works like 1 Peter originate among those for whom they are intended and not in some distant ecclesiastical center46 – if that is in fact what Rome was at this point in time – which in this case would place the author of 1 Peter among the gentile Christians in the eastern provinces (see the discussion of the letter’s
40 See the discussion in Hans D. Betz, Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979) 104. 41 Esp. Matt 5:17–19; the gentile mission commissioned in Matt 28:18–20 is also Torah observant. 42 The unanimous testimony of the early church is that Peter died before 70 c.e. in the Neronic persecution of Christians in 64 c.e.: e.g., 1 Clem. 5–6; Ign., Rom. 4.2; Iren., Adv haer. 3.1.2; 3.3.1; Eus. Hist. eccl. 2.25.5–8; 3.1.2–3; Act. Pet. 30–41. 43 1 Pet 5:13: “Babylon,” which appears to have become a cryptogram for Rome after 70 c.e., when like Babylon in the 6th century b.c.e. Rome destroys Jerusalem (see below). 44 1 Pet 1:1; that the provinces mentioned here form a circuit around with the letter was (allegedly) carried, was first proposed by Hort (cited by Selwyn, The First Epistle of St. Peter, 119). 45 They are conveniently listed in Charles Bigg, The Epistles of St. Peter and St. Jude (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1901) and discussed in all the major commentaries. 46 The pseudepigraphal letter of James strikes me as making similar claim: James writing from Jerusalem to the “twelve tribes in the diaspora.” I would also on similar grounds place the author of James among his letter’s intended readers.
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original readership below),47 a solution supported by the fact that the first verifiable citation of the letter was by Polycarp of Smyrna.48 This means, of course, that we have little hope of identifying the author of 1 Peter,49 except to say that like his readers he was presumably a gentile Christian writing in the Greek East. His attempt at a literary Koine would indicate a certain level of Greek education and that he almost certainly came from one of the many urban centers of the region. Further, his knowledge of the Septuagint would indicate that he had been associated with the Diaspora synagogue, perhaps as a so-called “god-fearer.” The fact that he describes himself as a sumpresbuvtero~ (5:1), which Peter was not, may also indicate that he was a local presbyter,50 a group which judging from the remarks of Tertullian quoted in the epigraph to this chapter were not above forging apostolic documents.51 As for why he chose Peter to be the alleged author of his letter, this is necessarily much more speculative. Peter was of course believed to have been martyred in Rome and so is a likely choice.52 But Paul was apparently martyred there too, and given the letter’s Pauline elements, 53 why not choose Paul over Peter? It is impossible to say for sure, but perhaps the letter’s emphasis on the historical suffering of Jesus called for someone who actually witnessed those suffering, which of course Paul did not. The author has pseudo-Peter make precisely this claim: mavrtu~ tw`n tou' Cristou' paqhmavtwn (5:1).
47 Unless, of course, the implied recipients are also part of the letter’s fictive setting, as is the case in the letter to the captives in 2 Bar. 78–87. See the discussion of 1 Peter’s audience below. 48 Polycarp actually makes extensive use of the letter: Phil. 1:3 (= 1 Pet 1:8); 2:1 (= 1:13, 21); 2:2 (= 3:9); 5:3 (= 2:11); 7:2 (= 4:7); 8:1 (= 2:24, 22); 10:2 (= 2:12). 49 The author uses, for example, masculine participles to refer to himself in 5:12, but this is of course part of the letter’s pseudepigraphy: the author is Peter. It is perhaps safer to assume that the author is male in light of the letter’s treatment of women as analogous to slaves in 3:1–6 (but then there is 3:7). The level of Greek education may also suggest a male author. 50 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 155, ventures a similar guess. 51 Tert., De bapt. 17, which claims that the Acts of Paul and Thecla was similarly produced by a “presbyter in Asia,” who when convicted of the forgery “confessed that he had done it out of love for Paul.” 52 1 Clem 5:3–4; Ign., Rom. 4:3; Apoc. Pet. 30–41; cf. Eus., Hist. eccl. 2.25.6. 53 Note especially the striking use of the unambiguously Pauline expression ejn Cristw`/ at 3:16 and 5:14.
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Date of Composition The reference to Rome as “Babylon” at 1 Pet 5:13 indicates that Rome, like Babylon, had already conquered Jerusalem and destroyed the Temple.54 This requires a terminus post quem of 70 c.e., plus whatever amount of time one judges that it was necessary for the byname to develop, which need not have been long. A clear terminus ad quem is given by quotations of the letter in Polycarp of Smyrna’s letter to the Philippians, probably written in the 120’s c.e.55 If, as some think, 1 Peter was known to the author of 1 Clement this would push the date of composition back to sometime before ca. 96 c.e. Beyond this is it hard to be specific, except to note that the conflict between the readers and their neighbors envisaged by the author of 1 Peter is strikingly similar to that reflected in Pliny’s famous letter to Trajan on the prosecution of Christians (Ep. 10.96), the provenance of which (Bithynia and Pontus) also overlaps with that of our letter. 56 In both cases Christians are being prosecuted at the instigation of their neighbors,57 whose accusation is described as proceeding largely on the basis of the “name,”58 though various other criminal acts are also alleged,59 meaning that Christians are being singled out precisely because of their religious identity, an important point to which we will return below. Since Pliny was imperial legate to Bithynia and Pontus from 111–113 c.e. and wrote his famous letter to Trajan in 112, this would suggest a date for 1 Peter early in the second century. But since Pliny indicates that trials of Christians had been conducted for some time prior to his letter, 60 and that specifically some Christians had apostatized as much as “twenty years earlier,”61 the situation reflected in his letter will likely have existed already in the early 90’s, which would be supported by a connection with 1 Clement, if that
54 C.-H. Hunzinger, “Babylon als deckname für Rom und die Datierung des I. Petrusbriefes,” in H. Reventlow, ed., Gottes Wort und Gottes Land (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1965) 67–77. 55 Henning Paulsen, Die Briefe des Ignatius von Antiochia und der Polykarpbrief (2nd. ed.; Tübingen, Mohr Siebeck, 1985) 112–13; William R. Schoedel, “Polycarp of Smyrna and Ignatius of Antioch,” ANRW 2.27.1: 347–58. 2 Pet 3:1 also seems to presuppose 1 Peter, but 2 Peter is notoriously difficult to date. 56 Pliny was imperial legate of Bythinia and Pontus when he wrote his letter; 1 Peter is addressed to Christians in “Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia” (1 Pet 1:1). For further discussion, see Gerald Downing, “Pliny’s Prosecutions of Christians: Revelation and 1 Peter,” JSNT 34 (1988) 105–23; John Knox, “Pliny and 1 Peter: A Note in 1 Pet 4:14–16 and 3:15,” JBL 72 (1953) 187–9 57 Pliny, Ep. 10.96, 2,5,6; cf. 1 Pet 2:12; 3:14; 4:4, 12–13, 16. 58 Pliny, Ep. 10.96.2: nomen ipsum; cf. 1 Pet 4:16: wJ~ Cristianov~ … ejn tw`/ ojnovmati touvtw/. 59 Pliny, Ep. 10.96.2: flagitia; cf. 1 Pet 4:15: wJ~ foneu;~ h] klevpth~ h]] kakopoiov~. 60 Pliny, Ep. 10.96.1–2. 61 Pliny, Ep. 10.96.6.
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connection can be made.62 However, 1 Clement’s knowledge of 1 Peter is far from certain,63 and so a date closer to Pliny’s letter cannot be excluded.64
Original Readership While all external references in a pseudepigraphal letter are potentially fictive, references to the audience are perhaps the least likely to be wholly invented.65 It is generally assumed, therefore, that the forger of 1 Peter did in fact intend his letter to influence Christians in the Roman provinces of “Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia,” as the epistolary prescript purports (1:1). This is a reasonable assumption as far as it goes, but it should not be pressed. For example, the suggestion by Hort that the provinces indicated in 1:1 trace the actual circuit traveled by the letter’s carrier, while a reasonable assumption for scholars who hold to the letter’s authenticity,66 becomes patently untenable once the letter’s pseudepigraphy is accepted – as if the aged Silvanus showed up with a letter from Peter decades after the latter’s famous demise!67 It is also generally assumed that the letter’s encoded readers, who are envisaged as exclusively gentile converts, accurately reflect the author’s assumptions about his audience.68 That the readers were gentiles is implied in a number of 62
E.g., Elliott, 1 Peter, 138–40. Thus Beare, First Epistle of Peter, 10, with whom I would agree. 64 Three further pieces of evidence have been adduced to argue for a date not later than the early 90’s, but I do not find them compelling. The first is that 1 Peter does not seem to know the defections mentioned by Pliny, which taking Pliny’s “twenty years earlier” seriously would require a date before 92 c.e. This is of course an argument from silence, and as a matter of fact 1 Peter does speak at least indirectly to the problem of defection in 3:14–15. The second argument is that 1 Pet 2:13–14 is not as hostile to Rome as Revelation, and so was written before the intense persecution that called forth that book, typically dated to the end of Domitian’s reign in the mid-90’s. This may be the case, but the differences between these two documents could also be due to differences in personal outlook as well as rhetorical strategy. The author of Revelation, for instance, is well-known for his vindictiveness, while the author of 1 Peter is encouraging his readers to “cope” with suffering not damn their adversaries. Finally, it has been suggested that while Revelation knows of actual martyrdoms (e.g., Rev 2:13), 1 Peter does not. The problem with this, of course, is that suffering like Christ, a major theme in 1 Peter, means martyrdom, to which may be added that by this time Peter himself had been martyred. I see nothing, therefore, that precludes a date as late as the first decade or so of the second century. 65 There are obvious exceptions to this. In the New Testament the Pastoral Letters come readily to mind; in contemporary Jewish literature there is pseudo-Baruch’s letter to the lost tribes at 2 Bar. 78–86. 66 E.g., Selwyn, The First Epistle of St. Peter, 119 (who follows Hort). 67 This seems to be the view espoused by Elliott, 1 Peter, 90–1. 68 This is not to say, of course, that there were no Jewish converts in the congregations addressed, but only that the author has conceived his readers as gentiles and writes to them as such. On the question of encoded reader, see the helpful discussion in Stanley K. Stowers, A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles (New Haven: Yale, 1994) 21–2, 63
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texts. At 1:14, for example, they are urged to reject their former way of life, which was characterized by ignorance (ajgnoiva) – presumably ignorance of God – and desire (ejpiqumiva),69 on the grounds that they must now relate to a God who is holy. Similarly, in 1:18 they are said to have been redeemed from a way of life that was void of religious significance (ejk th'~ mataiva~ uJmw`n ajnastrofh'~), and that had been passed down to them by ancestral tradition (patroparadovtou). And most clearly, in 4:3–4 the readers are told that they have lived long enough as “gentiles” (tw`n ejqnw`n), and that they must now put aside these practices and the friendships these practices support, even if this causes offense and leads to resentment and persecution. This last text (1 Pet 4:3–4) also suggests that a number of the readers had recently converted to Christianity as adults. Such an influx of adult converts would, of course, imply significant expansion. This expansion would in turn help to explain the recent outbreak of anti-Christian hostility evident throughout the letter,70 in as much as a new and growing cult would be perceived as socially threatening, a point Pliny makes in his letter to Trajan: contagio pervagata est!71 We will return to this problem below in the next chapter when we consider the causes of prejudice. Recent growth notwithstanding, the readers belong to churches with established leadership (5:1–4), and the author imagines at least the potential of intergenerational strife (5:5). This suggests that though much of the audience had recently converted, the congregations to which they belonged had been in existence for some time.
Conclusion 1 Peter may be approached as a literary unity. It is a pseudepigraphal letter composed sometime near the end of the first century or the beginning of the second century c.e. Its author was a most likely a gentile Christian from one of the urban centers of the eastern provinces of the Roman empire, and was possibly a local presbyter. He was moderately well educated and had had significant contact with the Diaspora synagogue. He wrote to the churches of the eastern empire, which he imagined to be composed primarily of gentiles. He did so at a time of significant expansion in these churches, which expansion, I will argue, had led to increasingly serious conflict with the wider society. This escalating conflict formed the immediate occasion of his letter, to which we now turn. 69 Paul similarly accuses his gentile readers of being held captive by various “desires” (Rom 1:18–32). For the Jewish stereotype of gentiles as given to passion and desire, see Stowers, A Rereading of Romans, 42–82. To put these sentiments in the mouth of “Peter” therefore makes perfect sense. 70 Note esp. 4:12: mh; xenivzesqe th ejn uJmi'n purwvsei pro;~ peirasmo;n uJmi'n genomevnh/ wJ~ xevnou uJmi'n sumbaivnonto~; cf. 1:6; 5:12. 71 Ep. 10.96.6.
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Chapter Two
Social Prejudice and Its Effects [W]e must beware of underestimating the great suffering caused to the Christians by the atmosphere of hostility, liable to turn at any moment into active persecution.*
It remains to discuss the occasion of 1 Peter. I have already indicated that I believe that the occasion of 1 Peter lies with the conflict between its readers and their non-Christian neighbors and that this conflict should be further specified as social prejudice. I will examine the evidence for this claim in the next chapter. In the present chapter I review the findings of modern social psychology on the nature and causes of prejudice, as well as on how targets of prejudice experience their predicaments. This will provide us with a working definition of prejudice and will assist us in identifying and analyzing prejudice and its outcomes in the ancient sources. It will also help us to listen for the lived experience of the author and readers of 1 Peter, which experience, to my mind, has not always been adequately emphasized by the letter’s modern interpreters. The chapter falls into three parts: (1) on the nature of prejudice, (2) on the causes of prejudice, and (3) on prejudice from the target’s perspective.
On the Nature of Prejudice Definitions of prejudice differ in detail, but most social psychologists would agree that prejudice may be broadly defined as a negative social attitude toward members of an identifiable social group based simply on their group membership.1 * G. E. M. de Ste Croix, Harvard Theological Review, 1954. 1 E.g., Richard D. Ashmore, “Prejudice: Causes and Cures,” in Barry E. Collins and Richard D. Ashmore, eds., Social Psychology: Social Influence, Attitude Change, Group Processes, and Prejudice (Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1970) 253: “a negative attitude toward a socially defined group and any person perceived to be a member of that group.” On the current state of the question, see John F. Dovidio, Peter Glick, and Laurie A. Rudman, eds., On the Nature of Prejudice: Fifty Years After Allport (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005). For a recent review of the literature, see Susan T. Fiske, “Stereotyping, Prejudice, and Discrimination,” in Daniel T. Gilbert, Susan T. Fiske, and Gardner Lindzey, eds., Handbook of Social Psychology (2 vols.; 4th ed.; Boston: McGraw-Hill, 1998) 2:357–411.
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This definition has two essential components, both of which may be briefly elaborated. They are: (1) that prejudice is a negative social attitude, and (2) that prejudice is directed against members of a social group simply because of their group membership. The second of these is the simpler, so let me comment on it first. An Emphasis on Group Membership Social psychologists do not define every negative attitude directed toward a person as prejudice. For instance, to dislike a person because he or she has a bad temper or is known to be dishonest is not prejudice. It is, all things being equal, a defensible judgment based on that individual’s previous actions and implied character. On the other hand, it is prejudice to dislike a person because he or she is, say, of a particular race or religion. Here one’s attitude is based not upon an individual’s actions and character, but upon his or her membership in a particular group. When, therefore, a Roman governor like Pliny punishes Christians because of their group membership, their “name” or nomen as he puts it, and especially when he insists on doing this even though he knows that belonging to this group does not imply any other criminal behavior (si flagitiis careat), 2 then surely some form of social prejudice – in this case social prejudice institutionalized in Roman legal precedent – is in play.3 Similarly, when as in 1 Peter a person suffers not “as a murderer, or a thief, or a criminal, etc.” (wJ~ foneu;~ h] klevpth~ h] kakopoiov~ ktl.), but simply “as a Christian” (wJ~ Cristianov~),4 we may again assume that social prejudice is in view. It is worth noting that this distinction was not lost on early Christians and their detractors, and that in fact each in their own way admitted its validity. For their part, Christians frequently complained that they were persecuted solely on the basis of group membership and not because of any criminal act that they had done. Justin records the following complaint voiced by a Christian at the condemnation of the Christian teacher Ptolemaeus by the city prefect Lollius Urbicus:5 2
Ep. 10.96.2. The nomen in question is Christianus. Romantic ideals about Western jurisprudence notwithstanding, it is commonly the case that legal codes institutionalize social prejudice. Obvious examples from the recent past include Jim Crow legislation in the American South and Apartheid in South Africa. One of the major social debates taking place in the West today regards the legal sanctioning of anti-gay prejudice, which is institutionalized in a range of legal codes, both national and local, and of course in the moral and legal pronouncements of various religious bodies. More often social prejudice is institutionalized less explicitly in unwritten precedents and procedures. 4 1 Pet 4:15–16. Cf. 4:14: eij ojneidivzesqe ejn ojnovmati Cristou'; however, when in 4:16 the Christian is urged to glorify God “by this name” (ejn ojnovmati tou'tw/), the o[noma in view is not Cristov~ but Cristianov~. 5 Just., 2 Apol 2.16; cf. Just., 1 Apol. 3.4: ejf j hJmw`n de; to; o[noma wJ~ e[legcon lambavnete; Tert., Apol. 1.4: Hanc igitur primam causam apud vos collocamus iniquitatis odii erga nomen 3
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What is the ground of this judgment? Why have you punished this man, not as an adulterer, nor fornicator, nor murderer, nor thief, nor robber, nor as one convicted of any crime at all, but as one who has only confessed that he is called by the name of Christian (o[noma Cristianou')?
Tertullian goes even further claiming that non-Christians “do not even want to know” (malunt nescire) the truth about what Christians believe and do.6 Not surprisingly, the opponents of Christianity vehemently denied this charge. They insisted that they were not religious bigots who knew nothing about the actual beliefs and practices of Christians, and they offered in their defense a litany of Christian “crimes” justifying their animosity. Many of these – incest, ritual murder, cannibalism7 – seem preposterous to us, while others – misanthropy and atheism – appear more reasonable, at least when viewed in the ancient context. But that is beside the point, which is that both early Christians and their detractors understood the distinction between disliking a person based simply on his or her membership in a particular group and disliking a person based on his or her individual behavior and proven character. Presumably, therefore, both groups would have agreed with the second component of our definition: that prejudice focuses on a person’s group membership. A Social Attitude with Cognitive, Affective, and Behavioral Elements This brings us to the first and more involved component of the above definition: prejudice as a negative social attitude. A social attitude may be defined as an attitude shared by a group of people, and like attitudes in general social attitudes can be understood to contain three elements: (1) a cognitive element, (2) an affective element, and (3) a behavioral element.8 As a social attitude, prejudice may be similarly analyzed to include: (1) a cognitive element: stereotyping, (2) an affective element: prejudiced feelings, and (3) a behavioral element: the tendency to act negatively toward members of the target group.9 Let me consider these in order. Most research to date has focused on stereotyping, the cognitive element of prejudice.10 The term “stereotype” was introduced into the social sciences in Christianorum. Quintus Lollius Urbicus was the famous governor of Roman Britain who built the Antonine Wall (PIR 2 5.1 L 327) and was then Praefectus urbi sometime between ca. 146 and 160 c.e. 6 Apol. 1.9. 7 See, for example, the list of crimes discussed at Min. Fel., Oct. 8–13, discussed below in chapter 3. 8 Alice H. Eagly and Shelly Chaiken, “Attitude Structure and Function,” in Gilbert et al., eds., Handbook of Social Psychology, 1:269–323. 9 So, for example, Fiske, “Stereotyping, Prejudice, and Discrimination,” 357. 10 The literature on stereotyping is extensive. For a recent discussion with bibliography, see Don Operario and Susan T. Fiske, “Stereotypes: Content, Structures, Processes, and
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1922 by Walter Lippmann in his remarkably insightful essay, Public Opinion.11 A term already in use in the printing industry for a moveable line of type, Lippmann suggested that we have similar cognitive stereotypes, portable “pictures in our heads,” that simplify our thinking about people and people groups.12 According to Lippmann, “we do not see first, and then define, we define first and then see.”13 Lippmann’s insight into human social cognition was taken up in the early 1950’s by Harvard psychologist Gordon Allport in his landmark book, The Nature of Prejudice, where it was integrated into the emerging cognitivist perspective, for which Allport was an important spokesperson.14 Allport described stereotypes as relatively stable constellations of negative beliefs about other groups of people. Following Lippmann, he theorized that stereotypes function as a kind of cognitive shorthand to allow us to efficiently categorize and interpret our experiences. Subsequent research has developed Allport’s basic insights in two directions. First, it now appears that stereotypes play an even more formative role in our experiences than Allport imagined. More than just a convenient cognitive shorthand, stereotypes are actually powerful heuristic schemas that actively structure a perceiver’s social world.15 Because we bring stereotypes to an experience, stereotypes influence our expectations of what a particular type of experience will be.16 Further, because we generally see what we expect to see, stereotypes also actively shape our interpretation of events, including how we interpret another person’s actions and intentions.17 Stereotypes also affect what we take Context,” in Rupert Brown and Sam Gaertner, eds., Blackwell Handbook of Social Psychology: Intergroup Processes (Oxford: Blackwell, 2001) 22–44. 11 Walter Lippmann, Public Opinion (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1922). 12 Lippmann, Public Opinion, 16. 13 Lippmann, Public Opinion, 81. 14 Gordon Allport, The Nature of Prejudice (Cambridge, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1954) 191: “More than a generation ago Walter Lippmann wrote of stereotypes, calling them simply ‘pictures in our heads.’ To Mr. Lippmann goes credit for establishing the conception in modern social psychology.” 15 The definitive study is Susan T. Fiske and Shelley E. Taylor, Social Cognition (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1991); cf. Charles Stangor and Mark Schaller, “Stereotypes as Individual and Collective Representations,” in C. Neil Macrae, Charles Stangor, and Miles Hewstone, eds., Stereotypes and Stereotyping (New York: The Guilford Press, 1996) 3–40. 16 David L. Hamilton and Tina K. Trolier, “Stereotypes and Stereotyping: An Overview of the Cognitive Approach,” in John F. Dovidio and Samuel L. Gaertner, eds., Prejudice, Discrimination, and Racism (Orlando: Academic Press, 1986) 127–63; cf. Fiske, “Stereotyping, Prejudice, and Discrimination,” 368–9. 17 John M. Darley and Paget H. Gross, “A Hypothesis-Confirming Bias in Labeling Effects,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 44 (1983) 20–33; Scott T. Allison, Diane M. Mackie, and David M. Messick, “Outcome Biases in Social Perception: Implications for Dispositional Inference, Attitude Change, Stereotyping, and Social Behavior,” in Mark P. Zanna ed., Advances in Experimental Social Psychology. Volume 28 (San Diego: Academic, 1996) 53–93.
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away from an experience, including what we remember about a person.18 As a result, our experiences are not only shaped by our stereotypes, but our stereotypes tend to be confirmed by our experiences. This circularity – expecting certain things, finding what we expect, remembering what confirms our expectations – renders stereotypes almost impossible to refute, especially by the target himself or herself, which means that to be a victim of social stereotyping can be both frustrating and discouraging. Subsequent research has also found that while stereotypes are indeed typically negative, sometimes very negative, most stereotyping also shows a degree of ambivalence, a mixture of negative and positive qualities reflecting the complexity characteristic of actual social relationships.19 Indeed, it is now generally accepted that (1) stereotypes exist both latently as a set of ambiguous if largely negative beliefs about another group of people and actually as specific evaluations that come to expression in concrete situations, 20 and that (2) when a particular stereotype is activated in a particular situation not all of its constituent beliefs are brought into play equally, but concrete situational cues work to shape the stereotype’s overall valence, which almost always tends to highlight negative over positive qualities. 21 This carries with it at least two significant implications: (1) that while general descriptions of outgroups appear to be largely reasonable if negative assessments, activated stereotypes tend decisively toward negative caricature, and (2) that prejudice is strongly influenced by external circumstances and therefore inherently volatile, so that stigmatized persons may 18 Claudia E. Cohen, “Person Categories and Social Perception: Testing Some Boundaries of the Processing Effects of Prior Knowledge,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 40 (1981) 441–52; cf. Fiske, “Stereotyping, Prejudice, Discrimination,” 371. 19 Susan T. Fiske, J. Xu, A. C. Cuddy, and Peter Glick, “(Dis)respecting Versus (Dis)liking: Status and Interdependence Predict Ambivalent Stereotypes of Competence and Warmth,” Journal of Social Issues 55 (1999) 473–91; Peter Glick and Susan T. Fiske, “Ambivalent Stereotypes as Legitimizing Ideologies: Differentiating Paternalistic and Envious Prejudice,” in John T. Jost and Brenda Major, eds., The Psychology of Legitimacy: Ideology, Justice, and Intergroup Relations (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001) 278–306. 20 John F. Dovidio, Kerry Kawakami, and Kelly R. Beach, “Implicit and Explicit Attitudes: Examination of the Relationship between Measures of Intergroup Bias,” in Brown and Gaertner, Blackwell Handbook of Social Psychology: Intergroup Processes, 175–97. 21 Operario and Fiske, “Stereotypes: Content, Structures, Processes, and Context,” 24–5; Ana Guinote and Susan T. Fiske, “Being in the Outgroup Territory Increases Stereotypic Perceptions of Outgroups: Situational Sources of Category Activation,” Group Processes and Intergroup Relations 6 (2003) 323–31; Monica H. Lin, Virginia S. Y. Kwan, Anna Cheung, and Susan T. Fiske, “Stereotype Content Model Explains Prejudice for an Envied Outgroup: Scale of Anti-Asian American Stereotypes,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 31 (2005) 34–47; cf. Penelope J. Oakes, S. Alexander Haslam, and Katherine J. Reynolds, “Social Categorization and Social Context: Is Stereotype Change a Matter of Information or of Meaning?” in Dominic Abrams, ed., Social Identity and Social Categorization (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999) 55–79. Louis H. Feldman, Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996) 123–200, has recently shown that ancient stereotypes of Jews exhibited a similar ambivalence.
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be treated benignly on one occasion and then shortly thereafter, as soon as a different set of situational cues take effect, be treated harshly or even violently. This second point, the inherent volatility of prejudice, will be extremely important in describing the lived experience of prejudice. Prejudice also contains an affective element broadly referred to as prejudiced feelings. 22 Members of one group often feel negatively towards members of another group, which feelings can be quite strong. Most research to date has focused on stereotyping, not on prejudiced feelings. However, there have been some important gains in understanding the affective component of prejudice.23 Here I shall mention four. First, and most obviously, not all prejudiced feelings are of the same intensity, but range from mild aversion to intense and violent hatred. Second, and related to this, neither are all prejudiced feelings of the same kind. One may fear one group, feel moral disapproval for another, and feel revulsion or disgust for yet another. Researchers are currently working to develop a reliable typology for categorizing prejudiced feelings, which come in many forms. 24 Third, prejudiced feelings can be quite complex and contradictory. 25 One may both admire and fear a particular group of people, or one may pity and feel revulsion for another group, with different feelings being emphasized or deemphasized depending on situational cues. It is obvious that Pliny both despises and pities Christians.26 Similarly, according to Tacitus, Christians became the object of public hatred and fear at the beginning of Nero’s scapegoating action against them, but soon became the objects of public pity as the alleged threat they offered was removed and they continued to suffer under Nero’s cruelty.27 Typically, different prejudiced feelings are accompanied by corresponding stereotypes that variously give expression to or seek to justify them. 28 Thus, for a group that is both admired and feared the corresponding stereotypes might be
22 Marilynn B. Brewer and Rupert J. Brown, “Intergroup Relations,” in Gilbert et al., eds., Handbook of Social Psychology, 2:574. 23 See, for example, the essays in Diane M. Mackie and David L. Hamilton, eds., Affect, Cognition, and Stereotyping (San Diego, California: Academic Press, 1993). 24 E.g., Eliot R. Smith, “Social Identity and Social Emotions: Toward New Conceptualizations of Prejudice,” in Mackie and Hamilton, Affect, Cognition, and Stereotyping, 297–315, who identifies five distinct emotions typically associated with prejudice: fear, disgust, contempt, anger, and jealousy, each of which leads to distinct cognitions and behaviors towards targeted outgroups. 25 Brewer and Brown, “Intergroup Relations,” 574–5; Anton J. M. Dijker, “Emotional Reactions to Ethnic Minorities,” European Journal of Social Psychology 17 (1987) 305–25. 26 Ep. 10.96.9–10. 27 Ann. 15.44.2–5. 28 Marilynn B. Brewer and Michele G. Alexander, “Intergroup Emotions and Images,” in Diana M. Mackie and Eliot R. Smith, eds., From Prejudice to Intergroup Emotions: Differentiated Reactions to Social Groups (New York: Psychology Press, 2002) 209–225.
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that the members of this group are hard working (and thus to be admired) but ruthless (thus to be feared). Fourth and finally, prejudiced feelings are contingently related both to stereotypes and to prejudiced behavior. It has generally been assumed that thoughts give rise to feelings which in turn give rise to behavior. This explains in large part why stereotypes have to date been studied more thoroughly than prejudiced feelings. However, while it can certainly be the case that feelings sometimes issue from thoughts, 29 and that behaviors follow from certain feelings, this is not necessary so.30 For one thing, the direction of causality can run the other way. Prejudiced feelings, for instance, can give rise to stereotypes which serve to justify those feelings, a point the Christian apologist Athenagoras perceptively makes when he writes at Leg. 31.1: “They accuse us of godless banquets and sexual unions so that they might think their hatred of us reasonable (i{na te misei'n nomivzoien meta; lovgou).”31 Also, the causality can be effectively interrupted. Thus, even if a person feels a certain way toward a group of people, he or she may choose for a variety of reasons not to act on those feelings.32 A small body of recent research has even suggested that certain thoughts and behaviors can actually bypass feelings, such that a person can act on a set of beliefs, but without any mediating affect.33 Prejudice is particularly troubling when it is expressed as hostile or discriminatory behavior. Again the assumption has been that behaviors have their source in beliefs and feelings, and there is evidence for this, especially if one is not trying to predict specific actions but general tendencies.34 However, as we have already seen with regard to prejudiced feelings, things can be significantly more complicated than this. Just as prejudiced feeling may influence stereotyping, so 29 Alice H. Eagly, Antonio Mladinic, and Stacey Otto, “Cognitive and Affective Bases of Attitudes Toward Social Groups and Social Policies,” Journal of Experimental Social Psychology 30 (1994) 113–37. 30 John F. Dovidio, John C. Brigham, Blair T. Johnson, and Samuel L. Gaertner, “Stereotyping, Prejudice, and Discrimination: Another Look,” in Macrae, et al., eds., Stereotypes and Stereotyping, 276–319. 31 Allport, Nature of Prejudice, 204: stereotypes are “primarily rationalizers”; John T. Jost and Mahzarin R. Banaji, “The Role of Stereotyping in System-Justification and the Production of False-Consciousness,” British Journal of Social Psychology 33 (1994) 3: “individuals generate … stereotypes about social groups in such a way that existing situations are justified.” 32 E.g., Thomas F. Pettigrew, “The Nature of Modern Racism in the U.S.,” Revue Internationale de Psychologie Sociale 2 (1989) 291–303; cf. Thomas F. Pettigrew and Roel W. Meertens, “Subtle and Blatant Prejudice in Western Europe,” European Journal of Social Psychology 25 (1995) 57–75. 33 See the studies referenced in Dovidio et al., “Stereotyping, Prejudice, and Discrimination,” 283–5. 34 Here see especially Icek Ajzen and Martin Fishbein, “Attitude-Behavior Relations: A Theoretical Analysis and Review of Empirical Research,” Psychological Bulletin 84 (1977) 888–918.
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also prejudiced behavior may give rise to stereotypes which then serve to justify that behavior. This is also true when biased treatment is imbedded in social structures, in which case stereotypes are produced to justify not a person’s behavior, or even the behavior of a group, but of a larger social or political system itself. Social psychologists refer to this process of generating stereotypes as “system justification.”35 Just as prejudiced feelings can be of different intensities and types, so prejudicial behavior can differ widely both in type and severity: coolness, avoidance, verbal abuse, exclusion, discrimination, and of course violence. Further, even when overt hostility and discrimination are absent, prejudiced persons may still act out their beliefs and feelings in extremely subtle ways, such as the lack of eye contact, an altered tone of voice, disregard for personal space, and the tendency to interpret intentions negatively and to respond accordingly.36 These behaviors are often unintentional and unconscious. Targets of prejudice, of course, regularly pick up on these behaviors.37 This is the case even when the perpetrators are themselves unaware of them or would, if made aware, actively eschew them.38 One final feature of prejudiced behavior needs reemphasizing. Even when prejudiced behavior is driven by prejudiced beliefs and feelings, it is largely opportunistic. In other words, whether or not people act out their prejudices is strongly determined by contextual factors. For instance, following the American Civil Rights Movement, Whites in the American South showed themselves much more likely to discriminate against Blacks when their actions could remain anonymous,39 or when their actions could at least potentially be justified on the basis of some other factor.40 Similarly, during the governorship of Pliny many persons otherwise hostile to Christianity did not take legal action against 35 John T. Jost and Roderick, M. Kramer, “The System Justification Motive in Intergroup Relations,” in Mackie and Smith, eds., From Prejudice to Intergroup Emotions, 227–246. Postcolonial studies have made it plain that empire generates a complex web of social and ethnic stereotypes and prejudices to justify domination and exploitation; Caroline Knowles, “The Symbolic Empire and the History of Racial Inequality,” in Martin Bulmer and John Solomos, eds., Ethnic and Racial Studies Today (London: Routledge, 1999) 45–59. 36 John Duckitt, The Social Psychology of Prejudice (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1994) 25. 37 Lisa Feldman Barrett and Janet K. Swim, “Appraisals of Prejudice and Discrimination,” in Swim and Stangor, Prejudice: The Target’s Perspective, 12–36. 38 Jennifer Crocker, Brenda Major, and Claude M. Steele, “Social Stigma,” in Gilbert, et al., eds., The Handbook of Social Psychology, 2:514–15. 39 Faye Crosby, Stephanie Bromley, and Leonard Saxe, “Recent Unobtrusive Studies of Black and White Discrimination and Prejudice: A Literature Review,” Psychological Bulletin 87 (1980) 546–63. 40 So-called aversive racism (also known as symbolic or modern racism): Samuel L. Gaertner and John F. Dovidio, “The Aversive Form of Racism,” in Dovidio and Gaertner, eds., Prejudice, Discrimination, and Racism, 61–89; cf. Pettigrew, “The Nature of Modern Racism in the U.S.”; Pettigrew and Meertens, “Subtle and Blatant Prejudice in Western Europe.”
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Christians until it was clear that Pliny had agreed to hear cases against them, as Pliny himself observes: “Now that I have begun to deal with this problem, as so often happens (ut fieri solet), the charges are becoming more widespread and increasing in variety.”41 As we have already seen, this makes prejudiced behavior appear both highly volatile and unpredictable.
On the Causes of Prejudice Let me now turn to the causes of prejudice. Scholars have not always viewed prejudice as a social problem in urgent need of explanation: the prejudices of the masses were thought to be due to their ignorance, while the “prejudices” of the elite (including scholars themselves) were imagined to be essentially true or at least to contain a substantial kernel of truth. To the degree that prejudice was felt to be a problem at all, it was as the aberrant thoughts of a few and could be explained by the emerging discipline of psychology.42 However, with the cognitive revolution in the social sciences, heralded in large part by the work of Gordon Allport which we have already noted, prejudice came to be re-conceptualized as a normal if unfortunate human proclivity caused by a variety of factors.43 Numerous theories have been developed emphasizing one or more of these factors.44 I here mention only those factors most relevant to ancient religious prejudice, and in particular prejudice against early Christians. The most frequently cited cause of prejudice is intergroup threat, which is itself the subject of several theories. The oldest and best known of these is Realistic Conflict Theory, according to which prejudice arises when two groups are 41 Ep. 10.96.4. For other presumably more timid types the circumstances only allowed for posting an anonymous pamphlet (libellus sine auctore; 10.96.5). 42 Duckitt, The Social Psychology of Prejudice, 49–54. 43 Bernard J. Baars, The Cognitive Revolution in Psychology (New York: Guilford Press, 1986); and more recently, John D. Greenwood, “Understanding the ‘Cognitive Revolution’ in Psychology,” Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences 35 (1999) 1–22; George Mandler, “Origins of the Cognitive (R)evolution,” Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences 38 (2002) 339–353. Especially pivotal was Allport, “The Normality of Prejudgment,” chapter 2 in The Nature of Prejudice, pp. 17–27; see the discussion in Susan T. Fiske, “Social Cognition and the Normality of Prejudgment,” in Dovidio et al., eds., On the Nature of Prejudice: Fifty Years After Allport, 36–53. 44 In addition to emphasizing different causal factors, theories of prejudice may also engage the evidence at different levels of analysis. Allport conceived six possible levels of analysis: historical, sociocultural, situational, personality, phenomenological, and stimulus object; George E. Simpson and J. Milton Yinger, Racial and Cultural Minorities: An Analysis of Prejudice and Discrimination (5th ed.; New York: Plenum, 1985) distinguish cultural-level, group-level, and individual-level analyses. In the most recent edition of the Handbook of Social Psychology Susan Fiske (“Stereotyping, Prejudice, and Discrimination,” 364–75, 85–91) distinguishes between theories that explain the “automatic processes” underlying prejudice and theories that focus on the “socially pragmatic aspects” of prejudice.
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in direct competition for finite resources, such that the success of one group threatens that of the other and vice versa.45 When this theory was originally articulated by Sherif and his colleagues these resources were conceived as tangible goods relating to a group’s economic or physical well-being, but more recent theorizing has expanded them to include such non-tangible goods as political power and control.46 It is now also generally recognized that it is not competition as such that generates prejudice but the sense of a concrete threat posed to an ingroup by a competent outgroup.47 According to Acts 19 the silversmiths at Ephesus who made votive offerings for the famous temple of Artemis viewed the spread of Christianity to be an economic threat: ejk tauvth~ th'~ ejgasiva~ hJ eujporiva hJmi'n ejstin … tou'to kinduneuvei hJmi'n to; mevro~ eij~ ajpelegmo;n ejlqei'n.48 Pliny expresses a similar anxiety in his letter to Trajan: certe satis constat prope iam desolata templa coepisse celebrari, et sacra sollemnia diu intermissa repeti passimque venire carnem victimarum.49 45 Muzafer Sherif, O. J. Harvey, Jack White, William R. Hood, and Caroline W. Sherif, Intergroup Conflict and Cooperation: The Robbers Cave Experiment (Norman, OK: University Book Exchange, 1969); Muzafer Sherif and Caroline W. Sherif, “Ingroup and Intergroup Relations: Experimental Analysis,” in Muzafer Sherif and Caroline W. Sherif, eds., Social Psychology (New York: Harper and Row, 1969) 221–66. This is a powerful theory and has been tested and validated many times: Ann M. Beaton and Francine Tougas, “Reactions to the Affirmative Action Debate: Group Membership and Social Justice,” Social Justice Research 14 (2001) 61–78; Tom Langford and J Rick Ponting, “Canadians’ Responses to Aboriginal Issues: The Roles of Prejudice, Perceived Group Conflict, and Economic Conservatism,” Canadian Review of Sociology and Anthropology 29 (1992) 140–166; Francine Tougas, Rupert Brown, Ann M. Beaton, and Stephanie Joly, “Neosexism: Plus ça change, plus c’est pareil,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 21 (1995) 842–9; Meredith W. Watts, “Political Xenophobia: Threat, Racism, and Ideology among East German Youth,” Political Psychology 17 (1996) 97–126; Michael A. Zárate, Bernice Garcia, Azenett A. Garza, and Robert T. Hitlan, “Cultural Threat and Perceived Realistic Group Conflict as Dual Predictors of Prejudice,” Journal of Experimental Social Psychology 40 (2004) 99–105. It has been especially valuable recently in explaining prejudice against immigrants who among other things are perceived as threatening jobs: Victoria M. Esses, John F. Dovidio, Lynne M. Jackson, and L. Tamara Armstrong, “The Immigration Dilemma: The Role of Perceived Group Competition, Ethnic Prejudice, and National Identity,” Journal of Social Issues 57 (2001) 389–412; Victoria M. Esses, Lynne M. Jackson, and L. Tamara Armstrong, “Intergroup Competition and Attitudes Toward Immigrants and Immigration: An Instrumental Model of Group Conflict,” Journal of Social Issues 54 (1998) 669–724; Lauren M. McLaren, “Anti-Immigrant Prejudice in Europe: Contact: Threat Perception, and Preferences for the Expulsion of Migrants,” Social Forces 81 (2003) 909–936. 46 Lawrence Bobo, “Group Conflict, Prejudice, and the Paradox of Contemporary Racial Attitudes,” in Phyllis A. Katz and Dalmas A. Taylor, eds., Eliminating Racism: Profiles in Controversy (New York: Plenum Press, 1988) 85–114. 47 Already in Robert A. LeVine and Donald T. Campbell, Ethnocentrism: Theories of Conflict, Ethnic Attitudes and Group Behavior (New York: Wiley, 1972) 30. 48 Acts 19: 25, 27. 49 Ep. 10.96.10; cf. A. N. Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny: A Historical and Social Commentary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985) loc cit. Feldman, Jew and Gentile, 107–13, makes much of the economic threat posed by Jews.
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Intergroup threat can also arise as a result of conflicting values, norms, and beliefs.50 This is especially true when a subaltern group begins to gain in social or cultural prominence so that their values and beliefs become live options. Threats of this type are generally referred to as “symbolic threats,” and they too have been shown to elicit prejudice. Symbolic threat has been especially effective in explaining prejudice against immigrant communities, whose cultural customs (including religious customs) threaten dominant values.51 Symbolic threat has also been used to explain prejudice against gays and lesbians, whose sexual orientation threatens generally accepted behavioral norms.52 Given the well-known histories of these minority groups, it is only too obvious that prejudice traceable to “symbolic” threats can be very intense. The charge leveled against Paul at Philippi that he was teaching “customs which are not lawful for us as Romans” (e[qh a{ oujk e[xestin hJmi'n … JRwmaivoi~) is a clear instance of Christians posing a symbolic threat.53 Closely related to prejudice stemming from intergroup threat is the phenomenon popularly known as “scapegoating,” which may be defined as “an extreme form of prejudice in which an outgroup is blamed for having intentionally caused an ingroup’s misfortunes.”54 Classic theories of scapegoating were con50
David O. Sears, “Symbolic Racism,” in Katz and Taylor, Eliminating Racism 53–84; Blake M. Riek, Eric. W. Mania, and Samuel L. Gaertner, “Intergroup Threat and Outgroup Attitudes: A Meta-Analytic Review,” Personality and Social Psychology Review 10 (2006) 336–53. 51 Victoria M. Esses, Geoffrey Haddock, and Mark P. Zanna, “Values, Stereotypes, and Emotions as Determinants of Intergroup Attitudes,” in Mackie and Hamilton, eds., Affect, Cognition, and Stereotyping, 137–66; Victoria M. Esses, Gordon Hodson, and John F. Dovidio, “Public Attitudes Toward Immigrants and Immigration,” in Charles M. Beach, Alan G. Green, and Jeffrey F. Reitz, eds., Canadian Immigration Policy for the 21st Century (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2003) 507–36; Zárate, et. al., “Cultural Threat and Perceived Realistic Conflict as Dual Predictors of Prejudice.” 52 Geoffrey Haddock, Mark P. Zanna, and Victoria M. Esses, “Assessing the Structure of Prejudicial Attitudes: The Case of Attitudes Toward Homosexuals,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 65 (1993) 1105–18; M. Wyman and M. Snyder, “Attitudes Toward ‘Gays in the Military’: A Functional Perspective,” Journal of Applied Social Psychology 27 (1997) 306–329. 53 Acts 16:21; cf. Acts 19:27, where Demetrios the silversmith expresses his concern that Christianity not only poses an economic threat (already noted), but is also a religious or “symbolic” threat: ouj movnon de; tou'to kinduneuvei hJmi'n to; mevro~ eij~ ajpelegmo;n ejlqei'n ajlla; kai; to; th'~ megavlh~ qea'~ jArtevmido~ iJero;n eij~ oujqe;n logisqh'nai, mevllein te kai; kaqairei'sqai th'~ megaleiovthto~ aujth'~ h}n o{lh hJ jAsiva kai; hJ oijkoumevnh sevbetai. The extraordinary violence that almost wiped out the Christian communities at Lyon and Vienne in 177 c.e. is also probably to be explained at least in part by the fact that these were largely immigrant communities and as such posed a heightened symbolic threat (see my discussion of the Mart. Ludg. below in chapter 3); cf. W. H. C. Frend, Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church: Study of a Conflict from the Maccabees to Donatus (Oxford: Blackwell, 1965) 5. 54 Peter Glick, “Choice of Scapegoats,” in Dovidio et al., eds., On the Nature of Prejudice: Fifty Years after Allport, 244–61, here 244.
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structed on psychoanalytic models of displacement and are largely no longer convincing,55 certainly not at the level of intergroup behavior.56 But newer social-psychological theories have been developed, and these have been more successful. Glick has recently proposed a particularly promising theory, according to which scapegoating begins with some macro-social frustration that demands explanation.57 When no ready explanation is at hand, less obvious explanations are sought, including some plausible form of sabotage. In this environment, already stigmatized minorities feared to be both competent enough to cause the crisis in question and motivated to do so become ready explanations and are liable to become the brunt of the society’s collective ire.58 Well-known examples of scapegoating include: Armenians in the faltering Ottoman Empire, Jews in post-World War 1 Germany, the Tutsi in economically failing Rwanda, and to take an obvious ancient example already mentioned, Christians in Nero’s Rome.59 Another major theoretical perspective offering insight into the causes of prejudice is Social Identity Theory, which arose in part as a response to Sherif’s Realistic Conflict Theory which limited itself to objective conflict over material goods.60 According Social Identity Theory, people derive much of their sense of 55 E.g., I. D. MacCrone, Race Attitudes in South Africa: Historical, Experimental and Psychological Studies (London: Oxford University Press, 1937); John Dollard, Leonard Doob, O. Mower, and Robert Sears, Frustration and Aggression (New Haven: Yale, 1939); C. Hovland and R. Sears, “Minority Studies of Aggression VI: Correlation of Lynchings with Economic Indices,” Journal of Psychology 9 (1940) 301–10. 56 As observed by Ervin Staub, The Roots of Evil: The Psychological and Cultural Origins of Genocide (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). 57 Peter Glick, “Sacrificial Lambs Dressed in Wolves’ Clothing: Envious Prejudice, Ideology, and the Scapegoating of Jew,” in Leonard S. Newman and Ralph Erber, eds., Understanding Genocide: The Social Psychology of the Holocaust (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002) 113–142; idem, “Choice of Scapegoats.” Glick’s analysis is closely related to conspiracy theory; cf. Norman Cohn, Warrant for Genocide: The Myth of the Jewish World Conspiracy and the Protocol of the Elders of Zion (New York: Harper and Row, 1966); idem, Europe’s Inner Demons: An Enquiry Inspired by the Great Witch Hunt (London: Chatto, 1975). 58 On the role of competence in prejudice, see esp. Susan T. Fiske, Amy J. C. Cuddy, Peter Glick, and Juan Xu, “A Model of (Often Mixed) Stereotype Content: Competence and Warmth Respectively Follow from Perceived Status and Competition,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 82 (2002) 878–902. 59 Daniel Chirot and Martin E. P. Seligman, eds., Ethnopolitical Warfare: Causes, Consequences, and Possible Solutions (Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 2001). 60 Henri Tajfel and John C. Turner, “The Social Identity Theory of Intergroup Behavior,” in Stephen Worchel and William G. Austin, eds., Psychology of Intergroup Relations (Chicago: Nelson-Hall, 1986) 7–24; more recently, John C. Turner and Katherine J. Reynolds, “The Social Identity Perspective in Intergroup Relations: Theories, Themes, and Controversies,” in Brown and Gaertner, Blackwell Handbook of Social Psychology: Intergroup Processes, 133–52. Tajfel’s notion of a “social identity” is anticipated by W. Lloyd Warner, Buford H. Junker, and Walter A. Adams, Color and Human Nature: Negro Personality Development
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self-worth from membership in the various groups to which they belong and the status these groups enjoy relative to other social groups. This “social identity” is constructed contextually (1) by positively assessing one’s ingroup and (2) by negatively assessing or devaluing one’s outgroups.61 And it is further enhanced (3) by minimizing within-group differences and (4) by accentuating between-group differences. Social Identity Theory predicts that a higher status group will feel “socially threatened” by a lower status group when the status differentials distinguishing the two groups are challenged. This can be caused by a variety of means, such as the increased social importance of a subordinate group due to shifting circumstances within a society, or the increased prominence of a group due simply to an increase in its numbers. Both of these factors will have contributed to hostility toward early Christians who by the end of the first century were growing rapidly both in terms of numbers and social status.62 As we have already noted, significant adult conversion is implied in 1 Pet 4:3–4.
Prejudice from the Target’s Perspective Let me now highlight some recent research on the stresses and anxieties associated with being the target of prejudice. My objective is to lay some ground work for a reading of 1 Peter that takes into account the lived experience of its readers and author.63 This is important since it is precisely in response to this experience that the letter was written. In discussing the experience of prejudice it will be helpful to begin with the concept of social stigma, which describes a key element in the social identity of those targeted for prejudice. The term “stigma” gained currency in modern prejudice studies in Erving Goffman’s classic 1963 essay entitled, Stigma: Notes on the Management of a Spoiled Identity. Goffman’s deceptively little book remains one of the most insightful and sympathetic accounts of social stigma in print today and continues to serve as the touchstone of virtually every contemporary treatment of the subject.64 According to Goffman, social stigma is a “mark” (Greek stivgma) or in a Northern City (Washington D. C.: American Council on Education, 1941; reprint, New York: Harper and Row, 1969), who speak of a “social personality” (p. 27). 61 Nyla R. Branscombe and Daniel L. Wann, “Collective Self-Esteem Consequences of Outgroup Derogation When a Valued Social Identity Is on Trial,” European Journal of Social Psychology 24 (1994) 641–57. 62 For a general overview, see Margaret M. Mitchell and Frances M. Young, The Cambridge History of Early Christianity: Volume 1: Origins to Constantine (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006) 295–412. 63 For a similar attempt to describe the “lived experience” of American Blacks and women, see Janet K. Swim, Laurie L. Cohen, and Lauri L. Hyers, “Experiencing Everyday Prejudice and Discrimination,” in Swim and Stangor, eds., Prejudice: The Target’s Perspective, 37–60. 64 A great deal of work has been done on social stigma since Goffman’s little book; see esp.
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defining feature assigned to a given social group that conveys upon members of that group a deeply discredited identity.65 Socially stigmatized persons are judged to be fundamentally flawed or spoiled and therefore somehow less than fully human.66 Goffman identified three broad types of social stigma: (1) tribal stigmas: membership in devalued racial, religious, or ethnic groups typically passed from generation to generation; (2) abominations of the body: some sort of physical deformity including obesity; and (3) blemishes of individual character: criminality, addiction, etc.67 We may wish to quibble with these precise categories, but Goffman’s essential point that virtually any type of identity marker can serve as a stigma remains a valid and important insight. The readers of 1 Peter, who were stigmatized for their religious affiliation, would seem to fall into Goffman’s first category of groups bearing “tribal” stigmas. However, since they had not inherited their religion – their detractors would say “superstition”68 – but had converted to it, and since their religion was a newly invented and therefore disreputable cult,69 they also were thought to bear responsibility for their religious identity. This would place them in Goffman’s third category of the following recent major review articles: Crocker et al., “Social Stigma”; Brenda Major, Wendy J. Quinton, and Shannon K. McCoy, “Antecedents and Consequences of Attributions to Discrimination: Theoretical and Empirical Advances,” in Mark P. Zanna, ed., Advances in Experimental Social Psychology. Volume 34 (San Diego: Academic, 2002) 251–330; Claude M. Steele, Steven J. Spencer, and Joshua Aronson, “Contending With Group Image: The Psychology of Stereotype and Social Identity Threat,” in Zanna, ed., Advances in Experimental Social Psychology. Volume 34, 379–440; Michael T. Schmitt and Nyla R. Branscombe, “The Meaning and Consequences of Perceived Discrimination in Disadvantaged and Privileged Social Groups,” in Wolfgang Stroebe and Miles Hewstone, eds., European Review of Social Psychology. Volume 12 (London: Psychology Press, 167–99; Brenda Major, Shannon K. McCoy, Cheryl R. Kaiser, and Wendy J. Quinton, “Prejudice and Self-Esteem: A Transactional Model,” in Wolfgang Stroebe and Miles Hewstone, eds., European Review of Social Psychology. Volume 14 (London: Psychology Press, 2003) 77–104; Charles Stangor, Janet K. Swim, Gretchen B. Sechrist, Jamie DeCoster, Katherine L. Van Allen, and Alison Ottenbreit, “Ask, Answer, and Announce: Three Stages in Perceiving and Responding to Discrimination,” in Stroebe and Hewstone, European Review of Social Psychology. Volume 14, 277–311; Bruce G. Link and Jo C. Phelan, “Conceptualizing Stigma,” Annual Review of Sociology 27 (2001) 363–85; and Brenda Major and Laurie O’Brien, “The Social Psychology of Stigma,” Annual Review of Psychology 56 (2005) 393–421. 65 Goffman, Stigma, 1–3; cf. Edward E. Jones, Amerigo Farina, Albert H. Hastorf, Hazel Markus, Dale T. Miller, Robert A. Scott, Social Stigma: The Psychology of Marked Relationships (New York: Freeman, 1984); Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” 505. For the term in its ancient context, see C. P. Jones, “‘Stigma’: Tatooing and Branding in Greco-Roman Antiquity,” JRS 77 (1987) 139–55; DELG s. v. stivzw. 66 Goffman, Stigma, 5. 67 Goffman, Stigma, 2–4. 68 Tac., Ann. 15.44.3: superstitio exitiabilis, Pliny, Ep. 10.96.8: superstitionem pravam et immodicam; 10.96.9: superstitionis istius contagio, Suet., Nero 16.2: genus hominum superstitionis novae et malificae. 69 Note esp. Suet., Ner. 16.2: superstitionis novae.
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those whose stigmas reflect on their “individual character,” a classification confirmed by the fact that the readers were being stigmatized by their neighbors as “criminals” (kakopoioiv).70 In a recent review of the literature on social stigma, Crocker, Major, and Steele describe social stigma as a major form of stress that places unique demands upon the socially stigmatized. 71 They note at least four distinct ways in which this stress is experienced, each of which “poses a threat to both personal and collective self-esteem.”72 These are: (1) that one may at any moment become the object of explicit prejudice and discrimination, (2) that one must live with a day to day awareness of being socially devalued in the eyes of others, (3) that one’s actions are always at risk of being interpreted as confirming negative stereotypes, and (4) that one must continually reckon with the possibility that any given negative encounter may have been the result of prejudice. Let me consider these in order. First, stigmatized persons are faced with “the ever-present possibility” that they may become the target of overt prejudice and discrimination and thus the object of suspicion, insult, rejection, hostility, or even violence. 73 This possibility colors virtually every aspect of their experience and produces a “sense of vulnerability” that can be very oppressive and from which they are “never entirely free.”74 This possibility is underscored for the individual every time he or she personally experiences prejudice, what Root calls “direct trauma.” But it is also emphasized every time he or she observes or hears about another similarly stigmatized person suffering as the target of prejudice, what Root calls “indirect or secondary trauma.”75 These two types of experience and the abiding uncertainties they foster combine to form what Peters and Massey call the “mundane, extreme environment” in which the stigmatized live on a day to day basis.76 And of course the more severe the prejudice the more “extreme” this 70
1 Pet 2:12. See my discussion of this important text below in chapters 3 and 8. Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” 516–21; cf. Joe R. Feagin and Melvin P. Sikes, Living with Racism: The Black Middle-Class Experience (Boston: Beacon Press Books, 1994); Jones, et al., Social Stigma, esp. 111–54. 72 Crocker, et al., “Social Stigma,” 517. For the concept of collective self-esteem, see Riia K. Luhtanen and Jennifer Crocker, “A Collective Self-Esteem Scale: Self-Evaluation of One’s Social Identity,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 18 (1992) 302–18. 73 Crocker, et al., “Social Stigma,” 516. 74 Crocker, et al., “Social Stigma,” 516, who warn that “[t]he extent to which these experiences impinge on the lives of those who are stigmatized may easily be underestimated by the nonstigmatized.” 75 Maria P. P. Root, “Reconstructing the Impact of Trauma on Personality,” in Laura S. Brown and Mary Ballou, eds., Personality and Psychopathology: Feminist Reappraisals (New York: Guildford, 1992) 229–66. 76 Marie F. Peters and Grace Massey, “Mundane Extreme Environmental Stress in Family Stress Theories: The Case of Black Families in White America,” Marriage and Family Review 6 (1983) 193–218. 71
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environment, so that in cases where the prejudice amounts to hatred the awareness of one’s stigma may bring with it a level of threat bordering on terror. This point can hardly be emphasized enough, and scholars of early Christianity make a serious mistake when they focus on the “local and sporadic” nature of early Christian persecution – as if tallying actual deaths allows one to somehow quantify the lived experience of lethal prejudice – and ignore this much more fundamental and abiding problem.77 Compounding this day to day stress is the fact that as agents and not just victims stigmatized persons must always be on guard against possible negative encounters.78 This includes not only preparing themselves emotionally for negative encounters and their outcomes, but also engaging proactively in compensatory behaviors that make up for the social distance created by their stigma and that may hopefully forestall prejudice or at least blunt its effects. Stigmatized persons also typically seek to avoid situations where prejudice is likely, or if that is not possible then at least to structure situations so as to avoid negative encounters.79 We will say more these strategies below in chapter 5 when we discuss the various ways stigmatized persons try to cope with their predicaments. But for now it should be said that these strategies carry their own negative and stress-producing side effects, as when, for instance, a stigmatized person avoids certain situations that would otherwise be beneficial and thus misses out on important opportunities, or when compensating for the prejudice of others depletes one’s own emotional and/or material resources.80 A second form of stress experienced by the socially stigmatized is the constant awareness that they are discredited persons in the eyes of others. The challenge here is to live with public shame.81 It was earlier thought that this led directly and inevitably to a lowered self-esteem, the so-called “looking glass self,” according to which one sees oneself as other do.82 It is now recognized that just 77 It has become something of a talking point among historians of early Christianity that the early persecutions were “local and sporadic.” Indeed, a recent Google search of the expression “local and sporadic” turned up a plethora of books, articles, lectures and webpages in which just this expression was used to describe the persecution of early Christians. 78 Crocker, et al., “Social Stigma,” 517. Stigmatized persons also frequently find themselves in the uncertain position of not feeling that they can trust the claims of the non-stigmatized that they are in fact not prejudiced. 79 The claim made by the survivors at Lyon and Vienne that they were shut out of the baths and the public square (Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.5) reflects at least in part a decision by Christians to avoid such places of likely conflict. 80 Swim, et al., “Experiencing Everyday Prejudice and Discrimination,” 40–2. 81 I will return to this important point below in chapters 9 and esp. 10. Public shaming was a central part of the punishment of criminals (including Christians) in the early Roman Empire. 82 Crocker, et al., “Social Stigma,” 518, citing G. H. Mead, Mind, Self, and Society (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1934); Charles H. Cooley, Human Nature and Social Order (New York: Free Press, 1956).
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as stigmatized persons can cope with negative encounters, they can also cope with these threats to their personal identity.83 This is an important discovery and we will say more about it as well in chapter 5 below. However, coping activity can never completely erase the stress of being socially devalued. Furthermore, the kind of emotion-focused coping strategies necessary to shield one from public distain are difficult and often life changing, and as we have already noted can themselves have negative and stressful side effects that in the end only further complicate matters. The best the socially stigmatized can hope for is to carefully anticipate and with effort and luck to sometimes avoid and other times rise above public shaming and its psychologically damaging effects. That the author of 1 Peter was sensitive to the role shame played in the public trials and punishments of Christians is clear from his exhortation that Christians resist the temptation to be shamed when tried and punished as Christians: eij de; wJ~ Cristianov~, mh; aijscunevsqw, doxazevtw de; to;n qeo;n ejn tw`/ ojnovmati touvtw/ (4:16). A third form of stigma-related stress identified by Crocker and her colleagues is “stereotype threat.”84 Members of socially stigmatized groups aware of the stereotypes broadly held about their group will constantly be under the threat of appearing to confirm those stereotypes. This threat exists regardless of whether or not the stigmatized person accepts these stereotypes. It depends solely upon the fact that others hold these views and that they may employ them in evaluating the stigmatized person’s actions at any time. Given the fact noted above that stereotypes are cognitive schemas that actively construct human experience, including how the actions and motives of others are interpreted, this is obviously a realistic concern, and stigmatized persons are fully justifying in worrying that their actions might at any time be used to further stereotype themselves and their group.85 Fourth, the socially stigmatized are continually confronted with what has been called “attributional ambiguity.”86 Stigmatized persons can never be sure whether certain negative outcomes are to be attributed to circumstances, to their own shortcomings, or to the prejudice of others. Thus almost every negative encounter potentially confirms their sense of social and political disenfranchisement. This has certain benefits, as we shall see below – in particular, the socially stigmatized can almost always blame their failures on the prejudice of others.87 But it is also a source of stress and confusion and an ever-present threat 83 Here see esp. the pivotal essay by Jennifer Crocker and Brenda Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem: The Self-Protective Properties of Stigma,” Psychological Review 96 (1989), 608–30; cf. Swim and Stangor, Prejudice: The Target’s Perspectice. 84 Crocker, et al., “Social Stigma,” 518–9. 85 No doubt much of early Christian parenesis responds with this problem. 86 Crocker, et al., “Social Stigma,” 519–21. 87 Cf. 1 Pet 4:4: “and that is why they slander you.”
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to self-esteem. Furthermore, attributing outcomes to the prejudice of others can on occasion damage personal relationships. It can also keep one from potentially constructive feedback or even give one the air of being above criticism, of being self-righteous in other words.88 A fifth stressor associated with social stigma noted by Crocker and her colleagues is that stigmatized persons tend to be ostracized and are thus often denied access to many of the economic resources and social and cultural benefits of the larger society.89 This in turn will hinder their development and may deplete or even exceed their adaptive and material resources.90 A classic example of this is the Jews of Alexandria who were denied access to the city’s gymnasia and the other benefits of citizenship prior to the outbreak of violence in 38 c.e.91 Another example, which I will discuss in the next chapter, is the Christians at Lyon and Vienne who even prior to the anti-Christian pogrom that almost wiped them out in ca. 177 c.e. were “banned from houses, the baths, and even the public square.”92 Peter Oakes has recently attempted to imagine what such social ostracism might have entailed for the Christians at Philippi.93 In response to such hardships, minority groups typically band together to provide many of these denied goods and services. Early Christians became well known for the social support they showed one another, which was also true of Diaspora Jews.94
Conclusion In this chapter I have attempted to produce a working definition of prejudice sufficiently nuanced to allow us to properly interpret the various types of evidence for anti-Christian prejudice in the first three centuries c.e. I have discussed under separate headings: the nature of prejudice, its various causes, and some of the ways in which the targets of prejudice experience their predicament. To summarize, prejudice may be defined as a negative social attitude directed 88
A criticism commonly lodged against early Christians. Carol T. Miller and Brenda Major, “Coping with Stigma,” in Todd F. Heatherton, Robert E. Kleck, Michelle R. Hebl, and Jay G. Hull, eds., The Social Psychology of Stigma (New York: Guilford, 2000) 244–5; Kevin W. Allison, “Stress and Oppressed Social Category Membership,” in Swim and Stangor, eds., Prejudice: The Target’s Perspective, 145–70. 90 Allison, “Stress and Oppressed Social Category Membership.” 91 Philo, Flac. 53–55. See the discussion in Peter Schäfer, Judeophobia: Attitudes Towards the Jews in the Ancient World (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997) 136–60. 92 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.5. 93 Philippians: From People to Letter (SNTSMS 110; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001) 89–99. 94 Lucian, for example, has great fun in his Peregrinus (11–16) lampooning the way early Christians cared for their co-religionists in prison (cf. Tert., Apol. 39.7: Vide, inquiunt, ut invicem se diligant). For social support among Jews, see e.g., Tac. Hist. 5.5.1. 89
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toward the members of a particular social group simply because of their group membership. It consists of three elements: (1) a cognitive element: stereotyping, (2) an affective element: prejudiced feelings, and (3) and a behavioral element: discrimination and hostility. Prejudice may be caused by a variety of factors, most of which, however, entail some form of perceived threat: economic, political, symbolic, and/or social. In times of crisis this threat can be imagined after the fact in what is commonly referred to as scapegoating. The victims or targets of prejudice experience their predicament as social stigma and therefore as a unique form of stress. This stress can be both psychological and physical and has been described as the “mundane, extreme environment” in which the targets of prejudice live their daily lives. At its most extreme, this environment can be quite oppressive, even terrifying, a fact that scholars must not lose sight of in their attempt to imagine the social lives of early Christians.
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Chapter Three
Social Prejudice and Persecution: On the Occasion of 1 Peter It is in the minds of men, not in the demands of Roman law, that the roots of the persecution of the Christians in the Roman Empire are to be sought.*
In this chapter I will present evidence that early Christians suffered as the targets of social prejudice and that it is precisely suffering of this sort that constitutes the proper occasion of 1 Peter. I will be aided in my analysis by the findings of social psychology on the nature and causes of prejudice and the experience of its targets discussed in the preceding chapter. As I have already stated, it is not my contention that these findings may be mapped directly onto the ancient evidence, as if prejudice and its perception were constants throughout space and time.1 But I do believe that we may use these findings heuristically to guide our analysis, and that by doing so we will not only make ourselves better readers of the relevant texts, but gain a more accurate and sympathetic understanding of the kinds of pressures and anxieties that early Christians experienced and to which the author of 1 Peter sought to respond. It was with both the subjective and the objective realities of social prejudice that the earliest * T. D. Barnes, Journal of Roman Studies, 1968. 1 Prejudice continues to change. For example, American social psychologists now find it necessary to distinguish between older forms of explicit racism and more modern forms of “symbolic” racism. The broader issue here, of course, is the relationship between cultural practices and psychological processes. This is the domain of the emerging discipline of cultural psychology, the basis premise of which is that the human psyche varies over space and time and is in large part constructed by the culture or cultures in which its exists and develops. This insight will not be lost on experienced readers of ancient texts, who have wrestled with this problem for some time; e.g., Robert A. Kaster, Emotion, Restraint, and Community in Ancient Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); cf. the earlier work by Klaus Berger, Historische Psychologie des Neuen Testaments (SBS 146/147; Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1991), which contains numerous insights into 1 Peter. Cultural psychology is no panacea, however, for it obviously opens the back door to cultural stereotyping, not unlike earlier studies of race. For an introduction to cultural psychology that is specially attuned to the questions of social psychology, see Alan Page Fiske, Shinobu Kitayama, Hazel Rose Markus, and Richard E. Nisbett, “The Cultural Matrix of Social Psychology,” in Gilbert et al., The Handbook of Social Psychology, 2:915–81.
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Christians had to cope. 2 I have divided the chapter into two sections. In the first section I examine evidence of anti-Christian prejudice from sources other than 1 Peter. I limit myself to sources prior to the first official persecution of Christians by Decius in 250–1 c.e.,3 before which time social prejudice was, I will argue, the principal force driving the persecution of Christians.4 In the second section I examine evidence of anti-Christian prejudice and its outcomes in 1 Peter, noting where applicable connections with the wider evidence.
Anti- Christian Prejudice in the Early Roman Empire The evidence of anti-Christian prejudice in the period prior to Decius is extensive.5 In the following survey I will limit myself to four principal types of evidence: (1) official correspondence on the treatment of Christians, (2) early Christian martyrdom stories, (3) early Christian apologetic writings, and (4) scattered expressions of anti-Christian prejudice in various non-Christian literary and non-literary sources.6 My objective here is not to produce an ex2 Note again the pertinent comment by Ste Croix partially quoted as an epigraph to the previous chapter: “When all is said and done, we must beware of underestimating the great suffering caused to the Christians by the atmosphere of hostility, liable to turn at any moment into active persecution, in which the church grew up and ultimately triumphed. The threat of persecution, always hanging over their heads, was a factor of the utmost importance in the environment of the early Christians” (“Aspects of the ‘Great’ Persecution,” HTR 47 (1954) 104–5). 3 For recent analysis of the Decian persecution, see Reinhard Seliger, Die Religionspolitik des Kaisers Decius: Anatomie einer Christenverfolgung (Frankfurt: Lang, 1994); idem, The Mid-Third Century Persecutions of Decius and Valerian (Frankfurt: Lang, 2002); James B. Rives, “The Decree of Decius and the Religion of Empire,” JRS 89 (1999) 135–54. 4 There were exceptions to this. Nero’s calculated scapegoating of Christians after the fire of 64 – assuming Tacitus (Ann. 15.44) has gotten it right – was primarily an act of political survival, though even here, of course, it was popular prejudice against Christians that made this possible. Similarly, in individual court cases like the one reported in Just. 2 Apol. 2, an accuser might add the charge that his opponent was a Christian simply to “prejudice” the judge. But again this tactical move exploits a preexisting popular prejudice. Cf. Timothy D. Barnes, “Legislation Against the Christians,” JRS 58 (1968) 49: “Rulers united with the ruled in a common prejudice.” 5 The classic study is Pierre de Labriolle, Le réaction païenne: étude sur la polémique antichrétienne du 1er au VIe siècle (Paris: L’Artisan du Livre, 1934, 2nd ed., 1948). Unfortunately, Labriolle focuses almost exclusively on explicit pronouncements of the elite, rather than on popular attitudes and the roles these played in the early persecutions. 6 A fifth type of evidence might also be adduced: namely, scattered references to antiChristian hostilities in the New Testament. These are difficult texts, since is questionable to what degree Christians had become a group with a sufficiently established identity to become a target for social prejudice (e.g., 1 Thess 1:6; 2:14; 3:3–4). For various explanations of early conflict, see: John M. G. Barclay, “Thessalonica and Corinth: Social Contrasts in Pauline Christianity,” JSNT 47 (1992) 49–74; idem, “Conflict in Thessalonica,” CBQ 55 (1993) 512–30; Todd D. Still, Conflict at Thessalonica: A Pauline Church and Its Neighbors (JSNTSup 183;
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haustive survey of the evidence for anti-Christian prejudice in the first centuries c.e. – a desideratum to be sure – but to give a general impression of the “mundane, extreme environment” in which early Christians lived. Official Correspondence on the Treatment of Christians Three pieces of imperial correspondence on the treatment of Christians survive from the early second century. They are: (1) Pliny’s letter as governor of Pontus and Bithynia to the emperor Trajan,7 (2) Trajan’s official reply or rescript,8 and (3) a similar rescript by Hadrian to the governor of Asia Minicius Fundanus responding belatedly to an earlier query by Fundanus’s predecessor Serenius Granianus.9 These letters are well known for the light they cast on Roman jurisprudence.10 But they are also of great importance to the social historian, offering a valuable if disturbing glimpse into the everyday life of Christians in the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire. Pliny became governor of the combined province of Pontus et Bithynia by imperial appointment around 110 c.e.11 His principal assignment was to curb competition and extravagant spending among urban elites.12 However, as with Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999); 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). Further, many if not most NT references to anti- Christian hostility refer to conflict between Christians and Jews and are therefore not directly relevant to the present survey, which as background to 1 Peter seeks to describe conflict between Christians and their non-Jewish, non- Christian (i.e., “pagan”) neighbors. On the problem of Jewish persecution of Christians more generally, see Marcel Simon, Versus Israel: étude sur relations entre chrétiens et juifs dans l’empire romain (135–425) (Paris: Boccard, 1946) 144–54; Judith Lieu, “Accusations of Jewish Persecution in Early Christian Sources with Particular Reference to Justin Martyr and the Martyrdom of Polycarp,” in Graham N. Stanton and Guy Strousma, Tolerance and Intolerance in Judaism and Early Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998) 279–95. 7 Plin., Ep. 10.96. 8 Preserved in Pliny’s published correspondence as Ep. 10.97; cf. Tert., Apol. 2.6–7; Eus., Chron. 20.218–19; 47.195; Hist. eccl. 3.33. 9 Just., 1 Apol. 68.6–10 (reproduced at Eus., Hist. eccl. 4.9.1–3; cf. Melito at Eus., Hist. eccl. 4.26.10). For the alleged Latin original of the rescript in Rufinus’ translation of Eusebius, see Miroslav Marcovich, ed., Iustini Martyris Apologiae pro Christianis (PTS 38; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1994) 132–33. The fact that we are dealing here with imperial rescripta is symptomatic of the fact that these early actions were not initiated by the emperor but were popular in origin. That this was the case throughout our period is confirmed by the fact that the jurist Ulpian in his book De officio proconsulis devoted much if not most the seventh chapter to the punishment of Christians, the legal basis for which lay in rescripta principum (so Lact., Div. inst. 5.11.19). 10 E.g., Barnes, “Legislation Against the Christians,” 36–7. 11 For an authoritative discussion of provincial boundaries (with maps), see Stephen Mitchell, Anatolia: Land, Men, and Gods in Asia Minor. Volume 2: The Rise of the Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993) 151–63 (Appendices 1 and 2). 12 Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny, 80–2, 526–8.
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all provincial governorships his imperial mandate required him to keep his province pacta et quieta,13 and his appointment as legatus propraetore consulari potestate14 invested him with full consular imperium to this end. During his tour of the province he regularly held court. He first toured Bithynia and then moved east to Pontus,15 where in the vicinity of the ancient coastal town of Amisis a group of people appeared before him charged with being Christiani.16 As provincial governor Pliny had a great deal of leeway in dealing with these religious innovators.17 His court took the form an official but by modern standards largely informal inquiry or cognitio,18 and while precedent was important – indeed, Pliny complains that he has never been present at the trials of Christians (cognitionibus de Christianis interfui numquam) and thus has little to go on19 – there were few hard and fast rules. Pliny himself decided what cases he would hear, whether he would act on the charges as formulated, what kinds of evidence he would consider, and what punishments he would give. In deciding such matters he would have consulted the traditional sources of Roman law at this time, including imperial precedent, which in the case of Christianity may
13 On the general mandate of every governor to keep the peace (quies provinciae) see Trajan’s own statement at Plin., Ep. 10.117: et ea constitueres quae ad perpetuam eius provinciae quietem essent profutura (no doubt an illusion to Pliny’s own mandate); cf. Sherwin-White, Letters of Pliny, 728; Ulpian at Dig. 13 praef.: congruit bono et gravi praesidi curare ut pacta atque quieta provincia sit quam regit. 14 CIL 5.5262 (= ILS 2927); E. Mary Smallwood, Documents of Nerva, Trajan and Hadrian (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1966) 230; Betty Radice, Pliny. Letters and Panegyricus (LCL; 2 vols.; Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1969) 2:550–51. 15 Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny, 529–33. 16 Pliny does not indicate where he is when he writes Ep. 10.96. He last mentions his location in Ep. 10.92–3 where he is at Amisis. In Ep. 10.98 he is in Amastris 90 or so miles to the west. The date of his letter is disputed. According to Sherwin-White, Letters of Pliny, 80–1, 693, and Barnes, “Legislation Against the Christians,” 36 n. 46, the letter was written late in 110; Rudolf Freudenberger, Das Verhalten der römischen Behörden gegen die Christen im 2. Jarhhundert, dargestellt am Brief des Plinius and Trajan und den Reskripten Trajans und Hadrians (2nd ed.; MBPF 52; Munich: Beck, 1967) 17, dates to 112. 17 See here the range of actions taken by Roman governors reported in Tert., Scap. 4.3–4; cf. Ste. Croix, “Why Were the Early Christians Persecuted?” 13. 18 On the cognitio, see especially Ignazio Buti, “La ‘cognitio extra ordinem’: da Augusto a Diocleziano,” ANRW 2.14:29–59. Helpful surveys are Andrew Borkowski and Paul du Plessis, Textbook on Roman Law (3rd ed.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005) 79–82; H. F. Jolowicz and Barry Nicholas, Historical Introduction to the Study of Roman Law (3rd ed.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972) 397–401. On provincial law in general, see Detlef Liebs, “Römische Provinzialjurisprudenz,” ANRW 2.15:288–262. The late second or early third century jurist Callistratus collected evidence for the cognitio in his De cognitionibus, of which a number of excerpts (mostly imperial rescripta) can be found in the Digesta; cf. Roberto Bonini, I ‘Libri De Cognitionibus’ di Callistrato (Milan: A Giuffrè, 1964). For a recent review and reinterpretation of the complex evidence pertaining to the cognitio, see William Turpin, “Formula, cognitio, and proceedings extra ordinem,” RIDA, 46 (1999) 499–574. 19 Ep. 10.96.1–2.
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have been set by Nero’s notorious scapegoating of Christians in the 64 c.e., 20 though the precise impact of Nero’s action on subsequent rulings can no longer be determined. However, as a governor whose mandate was to keep the peace, Pliny would also have been responsive to public opinion, with which he would have been in constant contact, since provincial cognitiones were popular public events. 21 Whatever uncertainties Pliny might have had about how best to proceed against these Christians, 22 he operates for all practical purposes as if Christianity is a capital crime and his initial response is decisive and brutal. He asks those accused whether they are indeed Christians. If they deny the charge, he asks them to prove it by engaging in religious practices he understands to be unacceptable to Christians – paying cult to the gods and to the emperor and cursing Christ – after the performance of which he then releases them. 23 If, however, they admit to the charge, he repeats the question twice, summarily executing those who persist. 24 Pliny probably hoped that such decisive action would put an end to the matter, but it does not. 25 For the fact that Pliny has agreed to take action against Christians is just the “situational cue” necessary to activate latent societal prejudices, and as soon as word gets out that he is hearing cases against Christians he is besieged with additional accusations, including an anonymous pamphlet naming other Christians.26 He continues to execute confessing Christians and 20 Joachim Molthagen, “‘Cognitionibus de Christiani interfui numquam,’ Das Nichtwissen des Plinius und die Anfange der Christenprozesse,” ZThG 9 (2004) 112–40. 21 Note, for instance, the frequent references to the “crowd” in the early Acta martyrum discussed below. Undue influence from courtroom crowds is the topic of Hadrian’s rescript discussed later in this section. For the essentially responsive nature of Roman provincial courts, see Fergus Millar, “The Emperor, the Senate and the Provinces,” JRS 56 (1966) 156–66, esp. 166. 22 We must be careful here not to be taken in by Pliny’s rhetoric. His pretended ignorance is in part at least the kind of self-demeaning doubt emperors expected from their governors and which Pliny, author of a groveling Panegyricus, was only too happy to display: “Who better to instruct my ignorance than you?” 23 Ep. 10.96.5. On the sacrifice test, Sherwin-White, “Early Persecutions and Roman Law Again,” JTS 3 (1952) 207–8; Hugh Last, “The Study of the Persecutions,” JRS 27 (1937) 80–92. Not all early Christians saw such sacrifices as a problem, e.g., Rev 2:14, 20. 24 Ep. 10.96.3. He justifies this action by saying that these persistent Christians were worthy of death because of the pertinacia they had shown him in holding so fanatically to their religion, which he considered for this reason to be an “excessive superstition” (supersitionem … immodicam). Here we encounter a fundamental divide between Romans and Christians (and Jews). For Christians (and Jews) such devotion to death was heroic; but for the Romans it was irrational fanaticism. Such fanaticism turned even legitimate religion into superstition; see the discussion in Mary Beard, John North, and Simon Price, Religions of Rome. Volume 1: A History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998) 217–18; cf. ILS 8393.30 (Epitaph of Turia 1.30): religionis sine superstitione. 25 He later admits that he should have known better: ut fieri solet (Ep. 10.96.4). 26 Ep. 10.96.4–5.
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to release those who by sacrificing convincingly deny the charge. But over the course of these continued hearings a third group of people emerges who indicate that they had in fact been Christians in the past but were no longer so.27 This presents Pliny with a real problem. He knows that Christians are typically said to be guilty of certain heinous crimes ( flagitia), 28 and if these allegations are true, then to have ever been a Christian leaves one guilty of participating in former atrocities.29 If, on the other hand, the allegations are not true, if they are no more than hostile caricatures or stereotypes, then the only crime lies in being a Christian, 30 at which point those who were formerly Christians but have since repented should be released. In response to this dilemma, Pliny questions those who say that they once were but are no longer Christians.31 He also examines under torture two female slaves reported to be Christian ministrae.32 He finds consistently that the allegations against Christians are baseless, but before he takes it upon himself to release those who have ceased being Christians he writes to the emperor for confirmation.33 It is clear from his letter that Pliny wants to release these former Christians.34 It is also clear that he is alarmed by the large numbers of Christians that have come to light in these proceedings.35 On the one hand these numbers mean that Christians constitute a realistic threat – which helps to explain the prejudice against them.36 On the other hand the numbers also mean that many people are being placed in mortal danger, and as a good Roman gentleman Pliny knows he must set limits on his brutality. Pliny’s hope is that by releasing “repentant” 27
Ep. 10.96.6. Ep. 10.96.2: flagitia cohaerentia nomini. Pliny does not specify the crimes alleged, but his assurances that the vows Christians take in their meetings are “not for any criminal purpose, but to abstain from theft, robbery, and adultery” suggest that Christian were commonly stereotyped as dishonest and sexually promiscuous. His further assurance that in their meetings Christians take “food of an ordinary, harmless kind,” perhaps anticipates later charges of cannibalism. 29 This consideration, as we shall see, was key to the brutal prosecution of Christians from Lyon and Vienne. The slaves of certain of these Christians, when interrogated under torture, accused their masters of such crimes as incest and cannibalism. The result of this was that even Christians who had apostatized were eventually executed. 30 Ep. 10.96.2: nomen ipsum, si flagitiis careat … puniantur. 31 Ep. 10.96.7. 32 Ep. 10.96.8; similar action is taken at the trial of Christians from Lyon and Vienne though with very different results; Mart. Ludg. (= Eus., Hist. eccl.) 5.1.14. 33 Ep. 10.96.8–9. 34 Ep. 10.96.10: ex quo facile est opinari, quae turba hominum emendari possit, si sit paenitentiae locus. 35 Ep. 10.96.9: Multi enim omnis aetatis, omnis ordinis, utriusque sexus etiam vocantur in periculum et vocabuntur; cf. 10.96.2. 36 George Thomas Oborn, “Economic Factors in the Persecutions of the Christians to A.D. 260,” in John Thomas McNeill, Matthew Spinka, and Harold R. Willoughby, Environmental Factors in Christian History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1939) 131–48; cf. Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny, ad loc. 28
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Christians he will demonstrate that apostasy leads to acquittal and encourage other apostasies.37 This will not only save many lives but root out a “vile and excessive superstition” (superstitionem pravam et immodicam).38 Pliny is encouraged in his hope by the fact that Trajan’s earlier edict against unauthorized meetings has already put a damper on Christian activity, and that traditional worship is on the rise again, as can be seen by the increased availability of sacrificial meat, the sale of which the expanding Christian presence had previously damaged.39 In his response Trajan generally approves of Pliny’s action and even though he will instruct Pliny on a few points, he leaves much to Pliny’s discretion – such is the nature of the provincial cognitio.40 Trajan is emphatic that Christians are not to be sought out,41 and here one suspects that he is reaffirming a precedent that had taken hold since Nero’s notorious ad hoc action against Christians in Rome in the early 60’s. But Christianity is clearly understood to be a punishable offence, and if Christians are properly accused by their neighbors, then they must be prosecuted and punished.42 As for Pliny’s question whether a person should be punished for having ever been a Christian, Trajan stipulates that only present group membership is to be punished, thus confirming Pliny’s general sense of how to proceed. Trajan does not approve, however, of Pliny’s acting against Christians on the basis of anonymous pamphlets, since this smacks of Domitian, from whose unpopular reign Trajan is anxious to distance himself: nec nostri saeculi est.43 It is also noteworthy that Trajan does not explicitly require the death penalty for those convicted of being Christians, noting simply that they are to be punished (puniendi sunt).44 We can only guess what circumstances might justify what punishments (beating, exile, public execution), but local conditions, including public opinion, will certainly have been a consideration.45 37
Ep. 10.96.9: neque civitates tantum, sed vicos etiam atque agros superstitionis istius contagio pervagata est (on which see Tert., Apol. 2.6–7). Cf. Tert., Apol. 1.7: obsessam vociferantur civitatem: in agris, in castellis, in insulis Christianos!; 37.4; Scap. 2.10. 38 Ep. 10.96.8; cf. 10.96.10: superstitionis istius contagio; see further Suet., Nero 16.2: superstitionis novae ac malificae; Tac., Ann., 15.44.3: exitiabilis superstitio For a similar designation of Judaism, see Cic., Flac. 28.67: barbara superstitio. 39 Ep. 10.96.10. 40 Ep. 10.97.1: neque enim in universum aliquid, quod quasi certam formam habeat, constitui potest. 41 Ep. 10.97.2: Conquirendi non sunt. It is noteworthy that Trajan takes it upon himself to stipulate this, since this was not a question asked by Pliny. This may be a genuine attempt of Trajan’s part to show restraint. 42 This odd state of affairs – that Christianity was illegal, but that Christians were not to be sought out – continues to puzzle historians; cf. Olivia F. Robinson, “The Repression of Christians in the pre-Decian Period: A Legal Problem Still,” The Irish Jurist 25–7 (1990–1) 269–92. 43 Ep. 10.97.2. 44 Ep. 10.97.2. 45 The Pliny-Trajan correspondence establishes a policy toward Christians that while no
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Pliny’s correspondence with Trajan is by far the most valuable source we possess for understanding the persecution of early Christians, and so before going any further let me briefly summarize some of the more important things that we can learn from it. First, both Pliny and Trajan act as though Christianity is an actionable crime. To be sure, there are certain flagitia commonly associated with Christianity that are also actionable. But just to be a Christian, the “name itself” as Pliny puts it, is a sufficient grounds for action. It is no longer possible to explain how this came to pass, but a reasonable assumption, as I have already indicated, is that proceedings against Christians were somehow given precedent by Nero. Second, although Christianity is actionable, and Christians properly charged in a court of law must be prosecuted, Christians are not to be sought out. Christians are “criminals” liable to capital punishment, but they are to be left to go their own way unless properly accused by their neighbors. This is an odd policy to say the least, as later Christian apologists will frequently point out, but Trajan is unambiguous on this and in taking his line he may simply be reflecting received wisdom. A third point follows directly from this: popular prejudice constituted a lethal threat for early Christians who if properly accused before a Roman governor would face almost certain death. Fourth and finally, judging from the evidence contained in Pliny’s letter, this prejudice had a number of likely causes: the social threat caused by growth of the cult, the cult’s realistic economic impact, not to mention the scandalous stereotypes associated with the cult. We can also see from Pliny’s letter that this prejudice could be activated at any time by such things as the arrival of an anti-Christian governor or the trials of other Christians. Let me now turn briefly to the third piece of official correspondence casting light on the social conditions facing early Christians: Hadrian’s rescript to the governor of Asia Minicius Fundanus,46 answering an earlier query by Fundanus’ predecessor Serenius Granianus.47 Unlike Pliny’s correspondence with Trajan, we do not have Granianus’ original letter,48 and so we are left to recondoubt moderate by Roman standards essentially institutionalized popular prejudice. It was admitted that Christians were not considered guilty of crimes – otherwise past membership in the cult would have left one deserving of punishment for crimes previously committed. Nor were they to be sought out. However, they could be punished based simply on present group membership, provided public outcry was sufficient to produce accusations. 46 The rescript is preserved in Greek translation by Justin Martyr at 1 Apol. 68.6–10, and by Eusebius at Hist. eccl. 4.9.1–3, who seems to have simply copied Justin. 47 Gaius Minicius Fundanus (PIR 2 M 612; Justin’s Minoukivo~ is a possible variant) was suffect consul in 107 c.e. and proconsul of Asia 123/4 c.e. Serenius Granianus is probably Quintus Licinius Silvanus Granianus (PIR 2 5.1 L 247), suffect consul in 106 c.e. and thus in line to precede Fundanus by a year to a governorship in 122/3 c.e. 48 Eusebius purports to summarize the letter as Hist. eccl. 4.8.6. His summary is suspect, however, since he is dependent on Justin, who does not reproduce Serenius’s letter. See further W. Schmid, “The Christian Re-Interpretation of the Rescript of Hadrian,” Maia 7 (1955) 5–13.
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struct the circumstances in provincial Asia from the rescript itself.49 Hadrian begins by expressing concern that anti-Christian sentiments in Asia are interfering with the execution of justice and that innocent people are being harassed by sycophants: “I do not wish to leave this matter uninvestigated, lest people be harassed, and informers be given an opportunity to do their evil work.”50 He then refers to the chaotic situation reported by Granianus:51 If the provincials can clearly sustain the accusation that a person is a Christian so as to also bring a formal charge in a court of law, then let them pursue this course – but this course only. They are not to proceed by simply shouting their demands (oujk ajxiwvsesin oujde; movnai~ boai'~).
Roman trials were always public affairs, but the popular prejudice against Christians had apparently rendered Granianus’ court so unruly as to jeopardize the appearance of the rule of law. Provincials were charging their neighbors with being Christians and were doing so not by bringing formal charges but by simply shouting accusations in the governor’s court. 52 Hadrian stipulates that only when an accuser is willing to personally bring a formal charge, which of course left the accuser open to the counter charge of malicious prosecution, is the governor “to hold an official investigation” (diaginwvskein = cognoscere).53 This principle had been put into precedent only a decade earlier by Trajan, and it is no doubt a measure of the popular prejudice against Christians that Hadrian is having to reassert it here. That Hadrian understood the situation to be a serious and ongoing problem is indicated by the fact that he responds even though Granianus has already left office. It is further indicated by the oath with which he concludes the letter: “And by Heracles, if anyone brings a malicious prosecution, then pass judgment on him, and see to it that he is punished!”54 Early Christian Martyrdom Stories The early (i.e., pre-Decian) Christian Acta martyrum present the interpreter with a number of problems. According to Barnes only six of these are of sufficient historical merit to illuminate contemporary realities.55 They are: the Martyrium Polycarpi, the Martyrium Ptolemaei et Lucii, the Martyrium Justini et 49 According to Eusebius the occasion was the pressure placed upon the Roman governor to execute Christians without any charge or trial “to satisfy the outcries of the people” (boai'~ dhvmou carizomevnou~). 50 Just., 1 Apol. 68.7. 51 Just., 1 Apol. 68.8. 52 Again, the convening of a provincial court had apparently provided the “situational cue” for the expression of latent prejudice. 53 Just., 1 Apol. 68.9. 54 Just. 1 Apol. 68.10. 55 Timothy D. Barnes, “Pre-Decian Acta Martyrum,” JTS 19 (1968) 509–31; cf. Gary A. Bisbee, Pre-Decian Acts of Martyrs and Commentarii (HDR 22; Philadelphia: Fortress Press,
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septem sodalium, the Epistola ecclesiarum apud Lugdunum et Viennam, the Martyrum Scillitanorum acta, and the Martyrium Perpetuae et Felicitatis.56 Three of these cast significant light on our topic of anti- Christian prejudice: the Martyrium Polycarpi, the Epistola ecclesiarum apud Lugdunum et Viennam, and the Martyrium Perpetuae et Felicitatis. The earliest of these is the Martyrium Polycarpi.57 It is a letter to the church at Philomelium which had sent to Smyrna asking for details of the bishop’s death.58 It is likely that the request from Philomelium followed shortly after the event and that the letter reporting Polycarp’s death was sent in a timely manner.59 Theological embellishments are evident, most notably Polycarp’s pronounced imitatio Christi, but these may well be part of the original pious narrative.60 Barnes dates the letter to 156 or 157 c.e., but does not rule out a date as late as 159.61 A number of passages in the Martyrium Polycarpi attest to public prejudice against the Christians and its influence on the provincial courts. Here I mention only the most significant ones. The story begins in media res with the execution of a young Christian named Germanicus, after which “the whole multitude” (pa'n to; plh'qo~) clamors for more: “‘Away with the atheists!’ they shout, ‘Go get Polycarp!’” 62 The result of this outcry – which is of course precisely the kind of thing both Trajan and Hadrian sought in vain to contain – is an ad hoc police action at the end of which Polycarp is apprehended and brought into the stadium at Smyrna. When he arrives the gathered crowd erupts in a great uproar: qoruvbou thlikouvtou o[nto~ ejn tw`/ stadivw/ wJ~ mhde; ajkousqh'naiv tina duvnasqai.63 Polycarp, who understands that the crowd is his primary adversary, does not cower in shame but “shakes his fist at them” and shouts back, “Away with the atheists!” turning their cries derisively upon them.64 1988); also Saul Lieberman, “Roman Legal Institutions in Early Rabbinics and in the Acta Martyrum,” JQR 35 (1944–45) 1–58. 56 Two of these are in the form of court records or acta (the Martyrium Justini et septem sodalium and the Martyrum Scillitanorum acta), two are in the form of letters (the Martyrium Polycarpi and the Epistola ecclesiarum apud Lugdunum et Viennam), one is a set of vision reports worked into a homily of sorts to be read aloud in church (the Martyrium Perpetuae et Felicitatis) and one is an edifying story (the Martyrium Ptolemaei et Lucii). 57 See Boudewijn A. G. M. Dehandschutter, “The Martyrium Polycarpi: A Century of Research,” ANRW 2.27.1:485–522; William R. Schoedel, “Polycarp of Smyrna and Ignatius of Antioch,” ANRW 2.27.1:272–358; Gerd Buschmann, Das Martyrium des Polycarp übersetzt und erklärt (Kommentar zu den Apostolischen Vätern 6; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998). 58 Mart. Pol., praef. 1; 20.1. 59 Barnes, “Pre-Decian Acta Martyrum,” 510. 60 Barnes, “Pre-Decian Acta Martyrum,” 511. 61 “Pre-Decian Acta Martyrum,” 512–14. 62 Mart. Pol. 3.2. 63 Mart. Pol. 8.3; cf. 9.1: qovrubo~ h\n mevga~. 64 Mart. Pol. 9.2. It is noteworthy that the narrator at this point insists that Polycarp is not
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Polycarp is examined by the proconsul Statius Quadratus, and when he refuses to revile Christ, the crowd begins to “shout with a loud voice and uncontrollable rage” (ajkatascevtw/ qumw`/ kai; megavlh/ fwnh'Ê ejpebova/), demanding that a lion be let loose upon him.65 The Asiarch Philip explains to the crowd that he is not allowed (ejxovn) to use a lion to execute Polycarp since the days of the animal games are over – one suspects here that if the law had allowed then he would have yielded to their demands – at which point the crowd begins “to shout in unison” (oJmoqumado;n ejpiboh'sai) for Polycarp to be burned alive.66 We are not explicitly told that the proconsul agrees, but presumably he does, for the crowd quickly mobilizes, gathering wood from nearby shops and bathhouses to burn Polycarp.67 When this makeshift fire fails to kill the aged bishop (the text claims a miracle), his detractors shout for an executioner to kill Polycarp in their presence, which request is granted.68 Then at the instigation of certain local Jews Polycarp’s body is destroyed in mockery of the Christian hope of resurrection.69 From start to finish Polycarp’s death, including his arrest, trial, sentencing, execution, and the disposal of his body is presented as little more than a judicially sanctioned lynching, Quadratus’ court answering to the demands of a strongly anti-Christian populace. The Epistola ecclesiarum apud Lugdunum et Viennam is an encyclical letter describing the public humiliation and near destruction of two Christian congregations in central Gaul.70 It was originally sent to the churches of Asia and Phrygia, from which many of the martyrs may have immigrated.71 It seems to have circulated independently for some time and to have been embellished on a number points prior to its incorporation into Eusebius’ Historia ecclesiastica, shamed by this process (oJ de; Poluvkarpo~ ejmbriqei' tw`/ proswvpw/ eij~ pavnta to;n o[clon to;n ejn tw`/ stadivw/ ajnovmwn ejqnw`n ejblevya~). On the problem of shame, see the discussion of 1 Pet 4:16 (mh; aijscunevsqw) below in chapter 10. 65 Mart. Pol. 12.2. The crowd whose shouting instigated the action against Polycarp, here seeks by similar means to determine both the outcome of Polycarp’s trial and his sentence. 66 Mart. Pol. 12.3. On the office of Asiarch, see Steven J. Friesen, “Asiarchs,” ZPE 126 (1999) 275–90, who follows David Magie, Roman Rule in Asia Minor to the End of the Third Century After Christ (2 vols.; Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1950) that Asiarchs were a special category of agonothete responsible for certain agonistic festivals. 67 Mart. Pol. 13.3. 68 Mart. Pol. 16.1; the coup de grâce was typically administered in private. 69 Mart. Pol. 17.2–18.1 70 These events were so brutal that they can only be imagined as a gladiatorial contest with the Devil; cf. 1 Pet 5:8, where Satan is depicted as a lion; Mart. Perp. 9.1 (that the Devil is here represented as an Egyptian reflects Perpetua’s own prejudice). For the appeal to cosmic evil in apocalyptic consolation, see chapter 4 below. 71 W. H. C. Frend, Martyrdom and Persecution, 2–5, estimates that about half of the known 48 martyrs were from Asia, in regard to which it is also worth recalling that the martyred bishop Pothinus’ successor Irenaeus was from Smyrna. But see, Glen Bowersock, “Les Églises de Lyon et de Vienne: Relations avec l’Asia,” in Les Martyrs de Lyon (177) (Paris: CNRS, 1978) 250–55.
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where it is preserved.72 The Epistola ecclesiarum apud Lugdunum et Viennam describes Roman provincial justice at its worst, thoroughly co-opted by popular prejudice.73 If as is commonly thought these Christians brought their religion with them from the Eastern empire, then the intensity of this prejudice will have been due in part to the “symbolic” threat that the arrival of this new cult posed. The traditional date of the martyrdom, based on Eusebius, is 177 c.e.74 The story begins with Christians already the targets of broad-scale social discrimination: “we were shut out of houses, and the baths, and even the public square (oijkiw`n kai; balaneivwn kai; ajgora'~).”75 This invites further hostility, and a violent pogrom erupts when a group of angry citizens takes it upon itself to track down certain known Christians, whom they haul before Lyon’s civilian magistrates and military tribune, abusing them in the process: “attacks which the whole mass of people heaped upon them: clamors, blows, draggings, plunderings, stonings, and confinements, and all that an infuriated mob is wont to employ against foes and enemies.”76 These officials lead them to the public square where they are interrogated “before the entire multitude” (ejpi; panto;~ tou' plhvqou~).77 They then imprison them in anticipation of the governor’s visit. The governor’s arrival initiates a series of judicial actions that escalate to accommodate the demands of the ever-present crowd. The first to be killed is a young man named Vettius Epagathus, who stepped forward to defend those who had been arrested only to be shouted down by the crowd around the governor’s tribunal (tw`n de; peri; to; bh'ma katabohsavntwn aujtou').78 Responding to the crowd the governor refuses to hear Epagathus’ defense of his faith79 and demands to know only if he is a Christian. When Epagathus identifies himself as a Christian, the governor has him immediately executed. At this point the governor interrogates several of the Christians’ slaves, who under pain of torture say what their tormentors no doubt want to hear: namely, that their masters are indeed guilty of “Oedipal unions and Thyestean feasts.”80 72
Hist. eccl. 5.1.3–2.8 Jill Harries, Law and Crime in the Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007) 38–41, cites the Epistola ecclesiarum apud Lugdunum et Viennam as a parade example of “judicial incompetence.” 74 But see the discussion in Barnes, “Pre-Decian Acta Martyrum,” 517–9. 75 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.5. Cf. Tert., Apol. 37.1: “How often, too, the hostile mob, paying no regard to you takes the law into its own hands and assails us with stones and flames!” 76 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.7. 77 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.8. 78 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.10. 79 Like the author of 1 Peter, Epagathus imagines that a “defense of the hope that is within you” (1 Pet 3:15) will make a difference. It does not. 80 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.14. The slaves are obviously aware of these popular anti- Christian stereotypes. 73
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The confirmation of these crimes justifies the crowd in its hostility and damns even those Christians who recant to be condemned as criminals. From this point on it is the combined hostility of “the mob, the governor, and the soldiers” that is unleashed on the Christians.81 A Christian slave named Blandina is viciously shamed and tortured to death in a variety of public displays over a period of days.82 The deacon Sanctus from Vienne is similarly tortured in the hope, not that he might repent – repentance is no longer an option for these Christians – but that he might disgrace himself by saying “something that he should not.”83 The ninety year-old bishop of Lyon Pothinus is handled so brutally by “the whole multitude” (panto;~ tou' plhvqou~) that he dies in prison:84 they dragged him heartlessly along giving him all kinds of blows; the bystanders attacked him in every way with their feet or their fists, without any respect for his old age; and those who were far away tried to hit him with whatever they had at hand…. And so, scarcely breathing, he was thrown into prison, and two days later he died.
One of the most shocking moments in the Lyon persecution, at least by Roman standards, is the trial and execution of the Roman citizen Attalus.85 Again the gathered crowd shouts for his death, but when the governor learns that Attalus is a Roman citizen he sends to the emperor – this would have been Marcus Aurelius on the traditional dating – for instructions.86 Not surprisingly, he is instructed to condemn non-citizens to the beasts, but to behead citizens.87 He follows these orders regarding the other Christians who are Roman citizens, but Attalus, who was especially unpopular – the author of the letter says that this was because he was a “pillar” of the church – he condemns to the beasts “in order to please the crowd” (tw`/ o[clw/ carizovmeno~), thus disregarding a direct imperial rescript!88 As a final expression of their lethal hatred of the Christians, the crowd feeds the bodies of the dead Christians to the dogs and then, as in the 81 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.17: hJ ojrgh; pa'sa kai; o[clou kai; hJgemovno~ kai; stratiwtw`n; cf. Barnes, “Legislation Against the Christians,” 49: “Rulers united with the ruled in a common prejudice.” 82 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.17–19, 37–42, 53–56. 83 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.20. 84 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.29–31. 85 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.43–44. Attalus is described as being “prepared” (e{toimo~) for his trials by a “good conscience” (to; eujsuneivdhton) and by being “trained” (gegumnasmevno~) in Christian discipline. For similar language deployed in a similar context, see 1 Pet 3:15–6: e{toimoi ajei; pro;~ ajpologivan … suneivdhsin e[conte~ ajgaqhvn; cf. Mart. Pol. 18.3: a[skhsivn te kai; eJtoimasivan. 86 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.44. 87 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.47. 88 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.50. If after returning to Rome he was challenged on this, which he no doubt was not, he could have pleaded exceptional circumstances in the popular outcry against Attalus.
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Martyrium Polycarpi, burns the remains, eventually throwing the ashes into the Rhone in order to mock the Christian hope of resurrection.89 The final pre-Decian martyr act to reliably reflect the role of popular prejudice in the persecution of early Christians is the Martyrium Perpetuae and Felicitatis. It is a composite work built around the autobiographical reflections of Vibia Perpetua, a young Roman mother from Thuburbo minor in Africa Proconsularis (3–10), and another martyr Saturus (11–13), to which have been added a brief hortatory preface (1–2) and a more lengthy conclusion detailing their deaths in the arena, most likely in Carthage (14–21).90 The memoirs of Perpetua and Saturus are devoted primarily to apocalyptic visions, which visions no doubt greatly aided the martyrs and their co-confessors in coping with their horrible predicament.91 However, Perpetua does briefly relate in her own words her trial before the governor Hilarianus.92 Of particular interest is her comment at 6.1 that when word of her hearing spread through the quarter of the city nearest the forum a crowd quickly gathered to watch the proceedings, though in this case there is no explicit mention of their role in shaping the trial’s outcome. The influence of the crowd is central, however, to the third person narrative conclusion added to the vision reports in 14–21. To begin with, we are told that the martyrs were kept under the tightest security and in extremely harsh conditions because of the popular rumor that as Christians they could use magic to free themselves.93 Next, their last meal, the so-called cena libera, was held in the open to satisfy the voyeurism of the assembled crowd.94 On the day of execution, when some of the more outspoken and defiant martyrs harangued the crowd, “the crowd became enraged” (populus exastgeratus) and demanded that they be brutally flogged before their execution, which demand was met.95 Later during a series of executions involving animals, the Christian Saturus is left bleeding profusely after a leopard attack, at which point the crowd mocks him with the common bath-house farewell salvum lotum, “well washed.”96 Finally, 89
Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.59–63. This important text has been ably discussed by Brent Shaw, “The Passion of Perpetua,” Past and Present 139 (1993) 3–45; and most recently by Joyce E. Salisbury, Perpetua’s Passion: The Death and Memory of a Young Roman Matron (New York and London: Routledge, 1997). 91 There are, of course, numerous apocalyptic-like visions attributed to martyrs in the immediate throws of death, e.g., Acts 7:55–6; Ascen. Isa. 5.7; Mart. Carpi 39, 42. We will have occasion to return to the topic of apocalyptic flight and coping below, especially in our discussion of 1 Pet 1:13–2:10. 92 Mart. Perp. 6. 93 Mart. Perp. 16.2. 94 Mart. Perp. 17.1–2 (note esp. 17.2 where Saturus rebukes the gawking crowd: Crastinus satis vobis non est? “Will not tomorrow be enough for you?”). 95 Mart. Perp. 18.9. 96 Mart. Perp. 21.2; cf. James Russell, “Mosaic Inscriptions from the Palestra at Anemu90
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when the animal display is over and it is time for the wounded but surviving martyrs to be mercifully dispatched, the crowd demands that they be dragged back out of their cells and slaughtered in full view: populus illos in medio postularet.97 Early Christian Apologetic Writings The Greek and Latin Apologists of the second and third centuries also make frequent reference to the persecution of early Christians.98 But whereas the writers of the early Martyr Acts seek to provide inspiring narrative accounts of particular outbreaks of violence, the Apologists offer more general explanations of why Christians were persecuted, and of course why such persecution was wrong.99 They therefore provide us with valuable evidence of how early Christians thought about and explained anti-Christian hostility. Almost without exception these writers attribute persecution to deep-seated social prejudice, which expressed itself as one might expect in negative stereotyping, strong feelings of animosity, and acts of public violence. Four authors in particular are relevant to our discussion. They are the Greek apologists Justin and Athenagoras, and the Latin apologists Tertullian and Minucius Felix. Justin wrote his so-called First Apology (Apologia i) in Rome around 150 c.e., addressing it to the emperor Antoninus Pius (137–161 c.e.), his two adoptive sons Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, and the Roman Senate and people. Within a year or two of its publication, and in response to the martyrdoms of two Roman Christians named Ptolemaeus and Lucius, he added as a kind of aprium,” AnSt 24 (1974) 95–102. The greeting upon entering a bath was some version of bene lava (“wash well”), where as the greeting after a bath was some version of salvum lavisse or salvum lotum (“well washed”). These were often captured in floor mosaics at entrances and exits, and could also be found engraved on stigils; David J. Zienkiewicz, The Legionary Fortress Baths at Caerleon II: The Finds (Cardif: National Museum of Wales, 1986) 158–9 and 163 fig. 51b. (I would like to thank Garrett Fagan for the above two items of bibliography.) See further, Franz-Josef Dölger, “Tertullian über die Bluttaufe: Tertullian De Baptismo 16,” AC 2 (1930) 117–41, esp. 129–37. 97 Mart. Perp. 21.7; cf. Mart. Pol. 16.1. 98 For a general introduction to the Apologists with up-to-date bibliography, see the recent English translation of Drobner’s, Lehrbuch der Patrologie (Freiburg: Herder, 1994; ET with updated bibliography by William Harmless, Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2007) 71–90, 153–8, 164–6. 99 The purpose of ancient apologetic writings, both Jewish and Christian, has been much debated. The classic discussion of this problem is Victor A. Tcherikover, “Jewish Apologetic Literature Reconsidered,” Eos 48 (1956) 169–93. However, whether written for outsiders, insiders, or more likely both, these writings uniformly seek to explain and interpret anti-Jewish or anti- Christian hostility, which is the use to which I put them here. For an authoritative introduction to the problems of this genre, see Mark Edwards, Martin Goodman, and Simon Price, eds., Apologetics in the Roman Empire: Pagans, Jews, and Christians (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999).
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pendix what is commonly known as his Second Apology (Apologia ii).100 His principal concern in both texts is that Christians are being persecuted simply because their group identity, or as he puts it, because of their “name” (to; o[noma),101 which has been negatively stereotyped to denote atheism, incest, and cannibalism.102 Justin is at pains to highlight the injustice of this and to offer a more accurate account of what Christians believe and do. According to Justin, the persecution of Christians has is roots in “unjust hatred and defamation” (ajdivkw~ misoumevnwn kai; ejphreazomevnwn),103 what modern social psychologists might describe as the affective and cognitive components of prejudice. He urges the emperor and his sons not to accept these “received opinions” (dovxai~ palaiw`n), since to do so would cause them also to be “bound by prejudice” (prolhvyei … katecomevnou~), which is nothing more than an “irrational impulse and malicious rumor that has become established over time” (ajlovgw/ oJrmh kai; croniva/ prokateschkuiva fhvmh/ kakh).104 He warns that Roman justice itself is perverted when “wicked rumor” (fhvmhn ponhravn) determines a verdict, and when “you accept a mere name as proof against us” (ejf j hJmw`n de; to; o[noma wJ~ e[legcon lambavnete).105 Such prejudice is characterized by unreason and passion and ultimately has its source in demons.106 It is also fundamentally false, since it misrepresents what Christians are really like.107 Persons who act thus cannot claim to be philosophers, “lovers of wisdom” (filosovfoi), as both Marcus and Lucius were wont to do, but are instead bigots, “lovers of opinion” (filodovxoi).108 100 Their deaths form the occasion of Apologia ii and are recounted at 2 Apol. 2. See the discussion in Marcovich, Iustini Martyris Apologiae pro Christianis, 8–11. 101 Esp. 1 Apol. 4. 102 Note esp. 1 Apol. 10.6: polla; yeudh' kai; a[qea kathgorhvmata …, w|n oujde;n provsestin hJmi'n. In addition to the all-purpose charge of atheism (the subject of 1 Apol. 6; cf. 5.2; 13.1; 46.3; 2 Apol. 3.2), there were charges of incest (26.7: ta;~ ajnevdhn mivxei~), cannibalism (26.7: ajnqrwpeivwn sarkw`n borav~), and magic (30). 103 1 Apol. 1.1; cf. 1 Apol. 14.3: tou;~ ajdivkw~ misou'nta~ hJma'~; 20.3: tiv para; pavnta~ ajdivkw~ misouvmeqa; 24.1: misouvmeqa di j o{noma tou' Cristou'; cf. further Matt 10:22; 24:9; Mark 13:13; Luke 6:22; 21:17; John15:19; 17:14; Diogn. 5.11–17; Tert. Apol. 1.4; 2.3; 4.1; Ad nat. 1.2,10; De resurr. 21.3; Clem., Protrep. 89.3. 104 1 Apol. 2.1–3. The passive of prokatevcw is used of prejudice in Polyb. 8.31.3; 27.4.9; cf. 9.31.2; Phalar. Ep. 56 (with diabolai'~). 105 1 Apol. 3.1. 106 1 Apol. 5.1: ajlla; ajlovgw/ pavqei kai; mavstigi daimovnwn fauvlwn ejxelaunovmenoi ajkrivtw~ kolavzete mh; frontivzonte~. 107 1 Apol. 10.6: polla; yeudh' kai; a[qea kathgorhvmata … w|n oujde;n provsestin hJmi'n. 108 These expressions are key and frame the text, the first occurring at 1 Apol. 1.1, the second at 1 Apol. 57.3; cf. 57.1: tou;~ ajlovgw~ biou'nta~ kai; ejmpaqw`~ ejn e[qesi fauvloi~ teqrammevnou~ kai; filodoxou'nta~ ajnairei'n hJma'~ kai; misei'n. The terms filovdoxo~ and filodoxevw are difficult. They should mean something like “lover of/to love glory” but here it must mean “lover of/to love opinion”; André Wartelle, Saint Justin, Apologies (Paris: Études Augusti-
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The otherwise unknown Athenian intellectual Athenagoras109 wrote his Legatio pro Christianis twenty-five or so years after Justin’s Apologiae during the co-regencies of Marcus Aurelius and Commodus which began in 176 c.e.,110 but before the German campaign of 178 c.e.111 It has been reasonably suggested that he wrote in response to the violent persecution of Christians of Lyon and Vienne in 177 discussed above and therefore shortly after the imperial visit to Athens in 176.112 Athenagoras agrees with Justin that the primary problem facing Christians is popular prejudice, and he takes it as his objective to answer the three most common stereotypes already identified in Justin: atheism (Leg. 4–30), incest (32–34), and cannibalism (35–36). Also like Justin, the term he most frequently uses to describe stereotyping is “rumor” (fhvmh).113 However, whereas Justin was satisfied simply to call such rumors “wicked” (kakhv)114 and “evil” (ponhrav),115 Athenagoras develops a vocabulary more adequate to the description of social stereotypes, describing them as “popular” (koinov~),116 “unexamined” (a[krito~),117 “unreasonable” (a[logo~),118 and “of the masses” (tw`n
niennes, 1987) translates: “qui se laissent guider par l’opinion” (177). Cf. 1 Apol. 53.12: mh; filodoxou'si mhde; uJpo; paqw`n ajrcomevnoi~; 1 Apol 3.6: ouj filovsofo~, ajlla; filovdoxo~ (“not an intellectual but a bigot!”) 109 In codex Paris 451, the important Arethas codex, the Legatio bears the title: AQHNAGOROU AQHNEIOU FILOSOFOU CRISTIANOU PRESBEIA PERI CRISTIANWN. 110 The address is uncertain, but see Leg. 18.2, where the coregents are “father and son.” For a critical discussion of Marcus Aurelius’ attitude toward Christians, see Peter A. Brunt, “Marcus Aurelius and the Christians,” in Carl Deroux, ed., Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History I (CollLatomus 164; Bruxelles: Latomus, 1979) 482–520. 111 Cf. Leg. 1.2: hJ suvmpasa oijkoumevnh th uJmetevra/ sunevsei baqeiva~ eijrhvnh~ ajpolauvousin. Coins from 177 say “pax aeterna”; for which see Miroslav Marcovich, ed., Athenagoras: Legatio pro Christianis (PTS 31; Berlin: De Gruyter, 1990) 1. Timothy D. Barnes, “The Embassy of Athenagoras,” JTS 26 (1975) 111–14, dates the Legatio to before the imperial visit to Athens in 176. 112 Compare the charge of Quevsteia dei'pna, Oijdipodeivou~ mivxei~ at Leg. 3.1 with the identical charge (Quevsteia dei'pna kai; Oijdipodeivou~ mivxei~) laid against the martyrs in Gaul at Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.14. Or it may be that he wrote in response to Fronto, who first formulated these specific charges against Christians, the view of Timothy D. Barnes, “Pagan Perceptions of Christiantiy” in Ian Hazlett, ed., Early Christianity: Origins and Evolution to AD 600 (London: SPCK, 1991) 234. 113 Leg. 2.1 (bis), 5 (bis); he uses gnwvmh at Leg. 11.1 (th koinh kai; ajlovgw/ gnwvmh/) and dovxa at 31.1 (th;n tw`n pollw`n dovxan); Justin uses dovxa to mean stereotype at 1 Apol. 2.1 (dovxai~ palaiw`n). Cf. Theophil., Autoly. 3.4.1: fhvmh/ prokateschkuivh/, “prejudiced rumor” (ca. 180 c.e.). 114 1 Apol. 2.3. 115 1 Apol. 3.1. 116 Leg. 2.1, 5; 11.1. 117 Leg. 2.1; this language is of course not completely missing in Justin (cf. 1 Apol. 5.1: ajkrivtw~ kolavzete; 11.1: ajkrivtw~ … uJpeilhvfate), but it is not applied specifically to stereotyping. 118 Leg. 2.5; 11.2.
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pollw`n).119 In a surprisingly modern sounding piece of analysis, already noted in the previous chapter, he complains that these stereotypes, which are patently untrue, are merely excuses constructed after the fact to justify popular antipathy: e[ti de; kai; trofa;~ kai; mivxei~ logopoiou'sin ajqevou~ kaq j hJmw`n, i{na te misei'n nomivzoien meta; lovgou.120 The Latin apologist Tertullian wrote his first three apologetic tracts, the Ad nationes, the Apologeticus, and the De testimonio animae, in Carthage near the end of the second century, and his fourth apologetic writing, the Ad Scapulam, around 212 c.e.121 Whereas Justin and especially Athenagoras emphasized the cognitive element of prejudice,122 what we today would call stereotyping, Tertullian emphasized the affective component, “public hatred,” odium publicum,123 and he is even more emphatic than Athenagoras that it is public antipathy that drives ignorant stereotyping: “because they hate us they do not even want to know the truth, so completely have they prejudged things” (malunt nescire, quia iam oderunt; adeo praejudicant id esse;).124 According to Tertullian, this hatred is manifested most plainly in the extreme cruelty of the crowds, which cruelty Roman administrators are themselves in many cases eager to satisfy.125 Like Justin and Athenagoras, Tertullian is appalled that Christians are persecuted simply because of their group identity, their “name” (nomen Christianorum),126 which in keeping with his emphasis on the affective element of prejudice he claims has become a nomen inimicum or “hateful name.”127 Tertullian traces this hatred to the popular perception of Christianity as a social threat:128 [Our detractors say:] “The State is filled with Christians: they are in the fields, in the citadels, in the islands! Both sexes, every age and condition, even high rank, are passing over to the profession of the Christian faith!”
119
Leg. 2.5; cf. 31.1: th;n tw`n pollw`n dovxan. Leg. 31.1. These comments sound particularly sophisticated by modern standards, research repeatedly showing that stereotypes much more often than not are developed after the fact to justify hatred or discrimination; e.g., Allport, Nature of Prejudice, 204: “[stereotypes are] primarily rationalizers.” 121 Timothy D. Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985) 30–56. 122 fhvmh: Just., 1 Apol. 2.3; 3.1; Athenag., Leg. 2.1, 5; gnwvmh: Athenag., Leg. 11.1; dovxa: Just., 1 Apol. 2.1; Athenag., Leg. 31.1. 123 Apol. 2.3; 4.1; cf. 1.4; Ad nat. 1.1; esp. Scap. 4.6 (populo fuerenti). 124 Apol. 1.9. 125 Apol. 49.4, 6; 50.12. 126 Apol. 1.4: Hanc igitur primam causam apud vos collocamus iniquitatis odii erga nomen Christianorum. 127 Ad nat. 1.3. 128 Apol. 1.7; cf. 37.4; Scap. 2.10. 120
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He also makes several references to the practice of scapegoating. The most famous of these comes at Apol. 40.1–2 (a text that even Allport quoted in his discussion of the phenomenon!):129 … they think the Christians the cause of every disaster, of every affliction with which the people are visited. If the Tiber rises as high as the city walls, if the Nile does not send its waters up over the fields, if the heavens give no rain, if there is an earthquake, if there is a famine or pestilence, immediately the cry is, “The Christians to the lion!”
Tertullian is convinced that this perception is shared by both ruler and ruled,130 and that anti-Christian prejudice has thus found its way into the Roman courts, where it is now impossible for Christians to get a fair hearing.131 The final apologist I wish to consider is Minucius Felix, whose Octavius is a dialogue that purports to retell a conversation between a pagan named Caecilius and a Christian named Octavius in the port city of Ostia, a conversation that led to the conversion of Caecilius. The Octavius bears a number of resemblances to Tertullian’s Apology, and it is debated whether it depends on Tertullian or vice versa.132 The dialogue is relevant to our discussion because it depicts – from a Christian perspective to be sure – a conscientious pagan sorting through what has become by this time a litany of anti- Christian stereotypes.133 The Octavius is therefore a commanding piece of evidence that Christians understood themselves to be victims of social prejudice. The stereotypes Caecilius adduces include the following: (1) that Christians are secretive and conspiratorial (8.4), (2) that they are impious and anti-social (8.4), (3) that they worship the head of an ass (9.3),134 (4) that they worship the genitals of their priests (9.4), (5) that they ritually kill and eat infants (9.5),135 and (6) that their ritual meals are occasions for indiscriminant promiscuity and incest (9.6–7).136 Caecilius is aware that these are rumors and hearsay: “a story is 129
Cf. Ad nat. 1.9; Scap. 3; cf. Cypr., Demetr. 2. Apol. 37.2. 131 Apol. 2.3; 49.4; 50.12 132 See the bibliography in Price, “Latin Christian Apologists: Minucius Felix, Tertullian, and Cyprian,” in Edwards, et al., eds., Apologetics in the Roman Empire, 112, n. 17. 133 Oct. 8–11. These apparently had been recently collected and published by Fronto (Oct. 9.6; 31.1); cf. Caroline P. Bammel, “Die erste lateinische Rede gegen die Christen,” ZKG 104 (1993) 295–311; Stephen Benko, “Pagan Criticism of Christianity During the First Two Centuries A. D.,” ANRW 2.23.2:1081–1089. 134 Cf. Tert., Apol. 16.1–3; Ad nat. 14. Note esp. the so-called Alexamenos grafitto discussed below (see also plate 1). For the accusation in anti-Jewish stereotyping, see Jos., C. Ap. 2.79–80; Tac., Hist. 5.3–4; discussed by Schäfer, Judeophobia, 55–62. For the early Christian use of the stereotype against Jews, see Epiphan., Haer. 26.12. 135 The discussion in Andrew McGowan, “Eating People: Accusations of Cannibalism Against Christians in the Second Century,” JECS 2 (1994) 413–442. 136 Note that these various stereotypes presuppose a range of negative feelings from moral distain, to fear, to lethal hatred. This is characteristic of the complexity of prejudice as described by modern scholars. 130
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told” (fama loqueretur); “others report” (alii ferunt); “I hear” (audio).137 But the rumors are extremely widespread: “a tale as detestable as it is well known” ( fabula tam detestanda quam nota est); “everyone is saying” (omnes locuntur); “it is common knowledge” (notum est).138 Surely, he reasons, these things would not be said “unless there were some kernel of truth to them” (nisi subsisteret veritas).139 And again: “even if not all of these accusations are true, then certainly most of them must be (aut omnia aut pleraque omnium vera), otherwise why else would Christians be so secretive (cur etenim occultare et abscondere)?”140 Compounding Caecilius’ concern over these terrible rumors, is the fact that the Christian movement has grown extremely rapidly and now constitutes a genuine social and symbolic threat:141 Evil weeds grow apace and so, day by day, this depraved way of life now creeps further over all the face of the globe and the fowl religious shrines of this abominable congregation are getting a stronger hold. This confederacy must be torn out!
Caecilius is disabused of his prejudice by the end of the dialogue.142 Various Early Non- Christian Literary and Non-Literary Sources Several early non-Christian literary and non-literary sources also provide evidence of early anti-Christian prejudice. The most important of these sources are: (1) Suetonius, Nero 16.2 (cf. Claud. 5.25), (2) Tacitus, Ann. 15.44,143 (3) Apuleius, Met. 9.14, (4) Lucian, Peregr. 11–16 and Alex. 23, 38, (5) passing references in various philosophical texts (Epictetus, Diss. 4.7.1–6, Marcus Aurelius, Med. 11.3, Galen, passim), and (6) the so-called “Alexamenos graffito.”144 Suetonius mentions Christians twice: first at Claud. 5.25, the famous reference to Claudius’ expulsion of the Jews from Rome: Iudaeos impulsore Chresto 137
Oct. 9.3 (bis), 4. Oct. 9.5, 6 (bis). 139 Oct. 9.3. 140 Oct. 10.1, 2; contrast Celsus, who, judging from Origen’s response in his Contra Celsum, apparently dismissed such caricatures and engaged only in intellectual critique. 141 Oct. 9.1; cf. Octavius’s response at 31.7. 142 Oct. 1.5; 40.3. 143 Both Tacitus and Suetonius treat the persecution of Christians by Nero. Another emperor commonly thought to persecute Christians was Domitian. The sources here, however, are Christian (Hegesippus at Eus. Hist. eccl. 3.19–20; Melito at Eus., Hist. eccl. 4.26.9; Tert., Apol. 5.4; Bruttius at Eus. Chron. 20.218; 48.192) and are all problematic; possible references in Revelation are notoriously difficult to interpret. 144 The most obvious omission is, of course, Celsus’s True Doctrine or jAlhqh;~ lovgo~, extensive portions of which are preserved in Orig., C. Cels., which I do not discuss because Celsus in his effort to offer a serious critique generally avoids popular prejudices. For a reconstruction, see Robert Bader, Der jAlhqh;~ lovgo~ des Kelsos (TBA 33; Stuttgart: Kohlmanner, 1940) 39–216; R. Joseph Hoffmann, Celsus on the True Doctrine: A Discourse Against the Christians (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987). 138
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assidue tumultuantis Roma expulit, and then at Nero 16.2, a brief note on Nero’s persecution of the Christians in Rome in 64 c.e.: afflicti suppliciis Christiani, genus hominum superstitionis novae ac maleficae. Only the second of these casts meaningful light on anti-Christian prejudice.145 It occurs in a paragraph in which Suetonius is describing Nero’s actions to clean up Rome, which in addition to expelling certain undesirables such as “chariot drivers” and “pantomimic actors,” included punishing Christians, whom Suetonius characterizes as a class of men given to “a new and wicked superstition.” It is striking that, unlike Tacitus to whom we will turn next, Suetonius does not mention the fire of 64 c.e. as the grounds of Nero’s persecution, but only that Christians are despised religious innovators with a possible connection to magic (maleficae).146 It is commonly claimed that Nero’s persecution of Christians would have been understood as an ad hoc action against a certain group of incendiaries and would have therefore not set a compelling precedent, 147 but Suetonius’s account makes it clear that at least in some quarters Nero’s action was interpreted as part of an effort to rid Rome of undesirables. Tacitus mentions Nero’s persecution of Christians at Ann. 15.44, where he famously links it to the fire of 64 c.e. His description offers a classic example of scapegoating, according to which a despised and potentially dangerous minority is blamed for some otherwise unexplained calamity. Tacitus’ account is well know, so I will here only highlight the pertinent details. As best as can now be determined the fire broke out on July 19 in a row of shops to the south of the Palatine and burned for a total of nine days.148 It destroyed partially or completely all but four of the fourteen regions into which Augustus had divided the city. When it finally burned out, copious sacrifices were made to appease the gods and a cause for the fire began to be sought. When no plausible source could be identified, Nero himself began to be suspected, at which point, according to Tacitus, he quickly “switched the responsibility” to the Christians. They were a likely target, because they were a destructive superstition (exitiabilis superstitio) already hated because of their crimes (flagitia), and because they were well known for their own “hatred of the human race” (odium humani generis).149 145
In the first (Claud. 5.25) Christians are still indistinguishable from Jews. Morton Smith, Jesus the Magician, 45–67. Celsus, apud Orig., C. Cels., 1.6, 38, 71; 2.32, 49; 6.14, 40; 8.41. 147 E.g., Barnes, “Legislations Against the Christians,” 35–6. 148 Cf. Suet., Nero 38.2. According to Tacitus, the fire first burned itself out after six days and then broke out again for another three days just north of the Capitoline hill. The total of nine days is confirmed by four inscriptions (CIL 6.826, 30837a-c) from the arae incendii Neronis constructed by Domitian along the perimeter of the area destroyed by the fire (cited by Miriam T. Griffin, Nero: The End of a Dynasty [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985] 269, n. 39). 149 Tacitus’ explanation conforms surprisingly closely to Glick’s recent theory of scapegoating. See the discussion in the previous chapter. 146
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Investigations turned up an “immense multitude” of Christians, whom in order to appease the angry crowds Nero publicly executed by various grotesque means, including feeding them to wild animals and burning them alive on crosses to light his gardens. It is generally agreed that Tacitus modeled his story on Livy’s famous version of the Bacchanal crisis of 186 b.c.e. (Livy 39.8–19),150 and that he interjected his own anti-Christian prejudices.151 Nevertheless, it is clear from his account that Christians in Rome had become a recognized social group by the time of Nero – this does not seem to have yet been the case at the time of Claudius152 – and had become sufficiently distrusted to be plausibly blamed for the fire of 64 c.e. If we apply Glick’s theory of scapegoating,153 then they will also need to have been a credible threat, even if their numbers were not as large as Tacitus, imitating Livy, implies.154 Given the fact that Christianity in Rome most likely had its origins in the synagogue155 and that “misanthropy” was a common charge leveled against Jews at this time,156 it is also plausible that Christians had by this time already begun to be stereotyped for their odium generis humani, as Tacitus claims.157 It is also worth mentioning that, according to Tacitus, as Christians began to be brutally killed popular sentiment toward them changed and they began to be pitied.158 This shift is consistent with recent theoretical developments that link active prejudice to unfolding “situational cues.”159 Apuleius of Madaura offers a scathing caricature of a Christian wife at Met. 9.14. It bears quoting at length:160 150 Livy 39.8–19; cf. the surviving Senatus Consultam de Bacchanalibus (CIL 1.2.581). For a discussion, see Benko, “Pagan Criticism of Christianity,” 1065–8. 151 Prejudices he shared with his contemporaries Suetonius and Pliny. For Tacitus’ possible debt to Pliny, see Harald Fuchs, “Tacitus über den Christen,” VC 4 (1950) 72. 152 Judging from Suetonius’s description of Claudius’ action against the Christians discussed above, Claudius did not distinguish between Christians and Jews. 153 Glick, “Sacrificial Lambs Dressed in Wolves’ Clothing,” and idem, “Choice of Scapegoats” (discussed above in chapter 2). 154 A motif derived from Livy’s account of the Bacchanal Crisis (Livy, 39.17.6: supra septem milia virorum ac mulierum dicebantur; cf. 39.9.1; 15.8–9). 155 Peter Lampe, From Paul To Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003) 7–16; Robert Jewett, Romans: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007) 59–74. 156 See Schäfer, Judeophobia, 170–9, for this important topos and its relationship to antiJewish prejudice. 157 For similar language from Tacitus on Jewish misanthropy, see Hist. 5.5.1: apud ipsos, fides obstinata, misericordia in promptu, sed adversus omnes alios, hostile odium. 158 Cf. Min. Fel., Oct., 12.6: misericordia digni. 159 Operario and Fiske, “Stereotypes: Content, Structure, Processes, and Context,” 24–5 (discussed above in chapter 2). 160 Benko, “Pagan Criticism of Christianity,” 1090–91. The woman, a monotheist who despises traditional divinities, is either a Jew or a Christian. That she drinks wine in the morn-
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The baker who bought me was an honest and sober man, but his wife the most pestilent woman in the world, in so much that he endured with her many miseries and afflictions to his bed and house, so that I myself did secretly pity his estate and bewail his misfortune: for there was not one single fault that was lacking to her, but all mischiefs that could be devised had flowed into her heart as into some filthy latrine: she was crabbed, cruel, cursed, drunken, obstinate, stubborn …, an enemy to faith and chastity, a despiser of all the gods whom others did honor, one who affirmed that she had instead of our sure religion an only god by herself, whereby inventing empty rites and ceremonies, she deceived all men, but especially her poor husband, delighting in drinking wine – early in the morning no less! – and abandoning her body to continual whoredom.
The text largely speaks for itself. Its vitriol is particularly striking: “all mischiefs that could be devised had flowed into her heart as into some filthy latrine.” It echoes growing criticism that Christianity was a lower class cult composed mostly of slaves and women. It also exploits the common claim that Christians are deeply immoral, and that Christian wives are insubordinate to their husbands. The satirist Lucian of Samosata mentions Christians in two of his writings: De morte Peregrini and Alexander pseudomantis.161 The references in the Alexander are brief and simply link Christians with Epicureans, famous for their “atheism.”162 Christians are treated at length, however, in the De morte Peregrini, which purports to recount the life of the sometime Christian Peregrinus, nicknamed Proteus.163 Peregrinus was born in Mysia around 100 c.e. and committed suicide by public immolation after the Olympic games in 165.164 According to Lucian he strangled his father in order to hurry his inheritance and was then forced to flee to Palestine, where he joined himself to a group of Christians. He convinced them that he was a prophet and was so lavishly supported by them, even in prison, that he was able to amass considerable wealth before being expelled for apparently eating meat offered to idols.165 He then traveled to Egypt, Greece, and Italy where he eventually gained a reputation as a philosopher and continued to deceive the gullible (this time certain would-be
ing as part of her “empty rites and ceremonies,” strongly suggests the latter. Her alleged promiscuity would also fit with anti- Christian stereotyping, as we have seen. 161 Hans D. Betz, Lukian von Samosata und das Neue Testament: Religionsgeschichtliche und Paränetische Parallelen: Ein Beitrag zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti (TUGAL 76; Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1961) 5–13; Benko, “Pagan Criticism of Christianity,” 1093–7. 162 Alex. 25, 38; Betz, Lukian von Samosata und das Neue Testament, 6–7. 163 Peregr. 11–16. 164 Aulus Gellius (N. A. 12.11) says he visited Peregrinus who lived in a hut outside Athens. He described him as a man of dignity and fortitude. Christian references to Peregrinus (Proteus) include: Tert., Mart. 4.5; Athenag., Leg. 26 (who knows of a statue to Peregrinus at Parium that was said to speak oracles; Tat., Orat. 25.1; Aul. Gell., N. A. 12.11.1 165 Peregr. 16.
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Cynics).166 One of Lucian’s chief objectives throughout this satire is to poke fun at the credulity of Christians (and Cynics), a theme that appears in his contemporaries Galen and Celsus.167 Passing mention is made of Christians in the writings of several secondcentury philosophers, all of whom are particularly struck by the readiness of Christians to die for their faith. The earliest of these texts is Epict., Diss. 4.7 (“On Freedom from Fear”) where Christians are adduced – along with the insane(!) – as those who do not fear death. Christians do not fear death out of little more than “habit” (uJpo; e[qou~). How much more then, Epictetus exhorts his students, should the philosopher be able to face death fearlessly given his training in reason. Marcus Aurelius makes a similar point at Med. 11.3 in a discussion of suicide,168 which he believes is an acceptable act if arrived at by a “specific decision” (ajpo; ijdikh'~ krivsew~) that is “well reasoned and soberminded, persuasive to others” (lelogizmevnw~ kai; semnw`~ kai; w{ste kai; a[llon pei'sai) and “not exhibitionistic” (ajtragw/vdw~), as is the case with Christian martyrdoms, which are “simply expressions of militant opposition” (kata; yilh;n paravtaxin).169 A third philosopher who makes passing reference to Christians is the polymath Galen of Pergamum,170 who was personal physician to Marcus Aurelius’s son Commodus.171 Prior to Galen the term of choice for referring to Christianity was “superstition” (superstitio). According to Galen, however, Christianity is a “school” of thought like any other philosophy or way of life.172 Unlike Marcus Aurelius or even Epictetus, Galen is impressed by the willingness of Christians to die for their faith and for their ability to follow through with that decision. He is also impressed with their “self-discipline” and “self-control” in matters of sex and food, and in the pursuit of justice.173 Galen’s principal objection to Christianity is the credulity of its members in their unreasoned acceptance of its absurd scriptures.174 It is not at all clear that Galen’s assessment of Christianity should be considered prejudice, but if it is, it bears witness to the essential ambi166
For Lucian’s view of philosophers, see esp. his Vitarum auctio. Discussed below. 168 The reference to “Christians” in this text may be a gloss; see the discussion in Brunt, “Marcus Aurelius and the Christians,” 483–498. 169 Marcus’s language reflects Pliny’s pertenacia et inflexibilis obstinatio (Ep. 10.96.3). 170 The texts are conveniently collected with translation in Richard Walzer, Galen on Jews and Christians (London: Oxford University Press, 1949). 171 Robert Louis Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them (2nd ed.; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003) 70–71. 172 Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them, 73. 173 Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them, 79–80, citing Walzer, Galen on Jews and Christians, 15. 174 De differentia pulsuum, 2.4; 3.3; cf. Lucian, Perigr. 13. Celsus will make this point at length; see esp. Orig., C. Cels. 1.9. 167
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guity of stereotyping, which while mostly negative contains positive elements as well. The last piece of evidence of anti-Christian prejudice that I wish to consider is not a literary text, but the so-called Alexamenos graffito (see Figure 1), a crude graffito, scratched into the wall of Room 7 of the Palatine Pedagogium, a school for training imperial slaves located on the south rim of the Palatine hill in Rome.175 Discovered in 1856, the graffito dates from the early third century c.e.176 and is a clear example of non-elite prejudice.177 The graffito shows the crucifixion of a man who has the head of an ass. The view is from behind, with the cross clearly inscribed. To the side is a young man or boy looking up at the person on the cross with his left arm raised. Beneath is the following text: jAlexameno;~ sevbete qeovn, where sevbete is no doubt a phonetic misspelling of sevbetai.178 The text is therefore to be translated: “Alexamenos worships [his] god.” The graffito expresses the early stereotypic slander that Christians – in this case the Greek slave Alexamenos – worship an ass-headed crucified god.179 There is from a different location in the Pedagogium another inscribed graffito in Greek and Latin that reads: Alexameno; j ~ fidelis, “Alexamenos is faithful.” It is clearly a response to the blasphemous graffito, but it is generally judged to have been added later.180
175 On the Pedagogium, see Maria Antonietta Tomei, The Palatine (Milan: Electa, 1998) 65; Erich Dinkler, Signum Crucis: Aufsätze sum Neuen Testament und zur christlichen Archäologie (Tübingen: Mohr, 1967) 150–53; Heikki Solin and Marja Itkonen-Kaila, Graffiti del Palatino I: Paedagogium (AIRF 3; Helsinki: Helsingfors, 1966) 3–34. The building has been identified as a school for imperial slaves by at least nine graffiti from rooms 5 and 6 with the expression “[so and so] left the Pedagogium” (exi[i]t de p[a]edagogio); Solin and ItkonenKaila, op. cit., 72–6. 176 Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus, 338, dates it to as early as 200 c.e. 177 See the discussion in Solin and Itkonen-Kaila, Graffiti del Palatino, 209–212; Maria Antonietta Tomei, Museo Palatino (Milan: Electa, 1997) 78–9. 178 IGR 1.178b; SEG 14.618. 179 Other examples of the slander include Min Fel, Oct. 9.3 (noted above); 28.7; Tert., Ad nat. 14; Apol. 16; cf. K. Sági, “Darstellung des altchristlichen Kreuzes auf einem römischen Zeigel,” AAntHung 16 (1968) 391–400, who adduces a fourth century caricature of an exhausted man dragging a cross etched on a tile from Pannonia (cited by Martin Hengel, Crucifixion in the Ancient World and the Folly of the Cross (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977) 19–20). 180 Solin and Itkonen-Kaila, Graffiti del Palatino, 250 and Tavola XVIII; still visible to Visconti in the 1860’s, it has now been intentionally destroyed but its location can still be identified based on Visconti’s description; ILCV 1325c; IGR 1.178a.
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Summary We have now surveyed the major evidence exclusive of 1 Peter for anti-Christian prejudice in the early Roman Empire.181 Before proceeding to 1 Peter, let me summarize. For the sake of clarity I will structure my summary as six theses supportable from the above analysis. The first four reproduce, though with a bit more precision, the preliminary observations I made at the beginning of our survey after my analysis of Pliny’s important correspondence with Trajan. 1. Christianity is consistently treated throughout our period and across a broad range of sources as an actionable offense. To be a Christian is to be a criminal, and to be accused of being a Christian is to be accused of being a criminal. This criminality may lie in the various flagrant offenses with which Christians were charged. But even independent of these charges, Christianity as such, the “name itself,” is a crime. 2. Even though Christianity was considered a crime, the official position was that Christians were not to be sought out: conquirendi non sunt. If Christians are properly charged in a court of law, then they are to be punished; but apart from that they are to be left to go their own way. This don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy is unprecedented and remains a puzzle. 3. Because the Roman government did not actively pursue Christians but nevertheless took action against them if they were properly accused in a court of law by their neighbors, popular prejudice constituted a lethal threat for early Christians. Indeed, prior to the first “official” persecution of Christians in 250–1 c.e., prejudice was the motive cause in all persecutions. This is an extremely important point for the interpretation of 1 Peter since it refutes the common claim made by commentators that 1 Peter focuses on social prejudice and not on government sponsored persecution, a false disjunction that “misunderstand[s] the pre-Decian legal position with regard to Christianity.”182 4. The traditional causes of prejudice identified by social psychology – realistic threat, symbolic threat, social treat, and scapegoating – all appear to be at work in the stigmatizing and persecution of Christians in these early centuries. 5. Christians themselves understood that prejudice was at the root of their problem. This is most in evidence in the Apologists who are clearly working to develop an adequate vocabulary to describe prejudice, and who make a number of surprisingly modern sounding claims. It is also evident in the central role given to the crowds in the early martyrologies, who effect both the outcome of the trials of Christians and the nature of their punishments in the arena. 6. Christians not only recognized prejudice as the cause behind their suffering, but took a variety of steps to cope with it. By far the most common strategy in the sources that have come down to us was education. But other attempts to cope may also be identified: apocalyptic flight, mutual encouragement, material support, including bribes. Certain 181 Other evidence could have been included, such as a few scattered references to persecution in the New Testament: e.g., Mark 13:9–13; Matt 10:17–18; Luke 21:12–17; Acts 14:4–5; 16:19–22; 17:8, 13; 19:23–40; 21:27–40. But it is doubtful that a more exhaustive survey would add much more to our knowledge. 182 David G. Horrell, “The Label Cristianov~: 1 Peter 4:16 and the Formation of Christian Identity,” JBL 126 (2007) 374; cf. Joachim Molthagen, “Die Lage der Christen im römischen Reich nach dem 1. Petrusbrief,” Historia 44 (1995) 442–58.
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theological developments will also have been in response to prejudice, such as the valorizing of suffering, the belief that martyrdom was actually a part of a giant cosmic battle with the Devil, the emphasis on vengeance evident in much apocalyptic speculation, and so on. I will have much more to say about early Christian attempts to cope with prejudice in the chapters that follow.
Evidence of Anti- Christian Prejudice in 1 Peter A number of texts in 1 Peter offer prima facie evidence that the readers are a conspicuous religious minority socially stigmatized for their religious identity. 1 Pet 4:14, for instance, speaks of the readers being reviled ejn ojnovmati Cristou', “for the name of Christ.” Similarly, the individual targeted for abuse in 4:16 suffers wJ~ Cristianov~, “as a Christian.” According to 3:14 the readers stand to suffer dia; dikaiosuvnhn, “on account of righteousness,” which in the context must mean something like “on account of your Christian way of life.” And at 3:16 they are said to be maligned for their ajgaqh; ejn Cristw`/ ajnastrofhv, “good ‘in Christ’ behavior.” Each of these texts describes persons singled out because of their membership in a particular group (the Cristianoiv), which is to say persons suffering as the targets of social prejudice.183 The most common way the readers experience anti-Christian prejudice is in negative stereotyping and verbal abuse. This is evident in a number of texts, of which the following are the most explicit:184 th;n ajnastrofh;n uJmw`n ejn toi'~ e[qnesin e[conte~ kalhvn, i{na ejn w|/ katalalou'sin uJmw`n wJ~ kakopoiw`n ktl. (2:12), ou{tw~ ejsti;n to; qevlhma tou' qeou' ajgaqopoiou'nta~ fimou'n th;n tw`n ajfrovnwn ajnqrwvpwn ajgnwsivan (2:15), mh; ajpodidovnte~ kako;n ajnti; kakou' h] loidorivan ajnti; loidoriva~ (3:9), e{toimoi ajei; pro;~ ajpologivan … ajlla; meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbo~ … i{na ejn w|/ katalalei'sqe kataiscunqw`sin oiJ ejphreavzonte~ uJmw`n th;n ajgaqh;n ejn Cristw`/ ajnastrofhvn (3:15–16), ajrketo;~ ga;r oJ parelhluqw;~ crovno~ to; bouvlhma tw`n ejqnw`n kateirgavsqai peporeumevnou~ ejn ajselgeivai~, ejpiqumivai~, oijnoflugivai~, kwvmoi~, povtoi~ kai; ajqemivtoi~ eijdwlolatrivai~. ejn w|/ xenivzontai mh; suntrecovntwn uJmw`n eij~ th;n aujth;n th'~ ajswtiva~ ajnavcusin blasfhmou'nte~ (4:3–4),
183
See the discussion above in chapter 2. To these may be added the following indirect references; these describe the suffering of Christ, whose suffering is exemplary of the suffering of the readers: pro;~ o{n prosercovmenoi livqon zw`nta uJpo; ajnqrwvpwn me;n ajpodedokimasmevnon parav de; qew`/ ejklekto;n e[ntimon (2:4); livqo~ o}n ajpedokivmasan oiJ oijkodomou'nte~ (2:7); o}~ loidorouvmeno~ oujk ajnteloidovrei (2:23). 184
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eij ojneidivzesqe ejn ojnovmati Cristou', makavrioi … mh; ga;r ti~ uJmw`n pascevtw wJ~ foneu;~ h] klevpth~ h] kakopoio;~ h] wJ~ ajllotriepivkopo~: eij de; wJ~ Cristianov~, mh; aijscunevsqw ktl. (4:14–16).
For the most part these texts indicate the fact of verbal abuse not its content. Several, however, provide a glimpse of what was actually being said about the readers, as well as the other kinds of negative outcomes they were experiencing as a result of their stigma. I will discuss these texts in more detail in the appropriate chapters below, but for now let me make the following observations. The accusation summarized in the first text in the above list is especially important: katalalou'sin uJmw`n wJ~ kakopoiw`n (2:12). Not only does it mark the first explicit reference to anti-Christian stereotyping in 1 Peter,185 it introduces the key term kakopoiov~, which in various cognate forms will occur a total of 6 times in 1 Peter,186 and which according to the author of 1 Peter constitutes the basic charge being leveled at his readers. Most modern translations of 1 Peter render kakopoiov~ with some general term such as “evildoer,” “malfaiteur,” or “Übeltäter.” But this is misleading. For it pays too much attention to the word’s etymology and not enough to its ancient connotation, which was something more like “criminal.”187 According to 2:12, therefore, the readers of 1 Peter are being publicly maligned as criminals.188 This interpretation of kakopoiov~ is confirmed in 2:13–14, where the punishment of kakopoioiv is said to be part of a Roman governor’s imperial mandate: uJpotavghte pavsh/ ajnqrwpivnh/ ktivsei … ei[te basilei' wJ~ uJperevconti, ei[te hJgemovsin wJ~ di j aujtou' pempomevnoi~ eij~ ejkdivkhsin kakopoiw`n e[painon de; ajgaqopoiw`n.
As we have already noted in our discussion of Pliny’s correspondence with Trajan, a governor’s primary mandate was to keep his province pacta et quieta, to preserve the much advertised “peace” that justified Roman rule. Among other things this meant ridding his province of mali homines, “bad men” whose actions subverted Roman political and social values and threatened the quies pro-
185 Its programmatic status is further indicated by the fact that the paragraph in which it occurs (2:11–12) introduces the central section of the letter (2:11–3:12) where the realities of anti- Christian prejudice are addressed. 186 The adjective kakopoiov~ appears in 2:12, 14 and 4:15; the verb kakopoievw in 3:17; and the expression poiei'n kakav in 3:13 (cf. 3:10, 11). Its antithesis, the adjective ajgaqopoiov~ occurs in 2:14; the noun ajgaqopoiiva in 4:19; the verb ajgaqopoievw in 2:15, 20; 3:6, 17; the expression poiei'n ajgaqovn in 3:11; the expression tou' ajgaqou' zhlwtaiv in 3:13; and the expression hJ ajgaqh; ajnastrofhv in 3:16. 187 BDAG, s.v. kakopoiov~; cf. s.v. kakopoievw 1. Contra Elliott, 1 Peter, 794: “there is no basis for claiming that at the time of 1 Peter … being labeled a Christian implied being charged as a criminal.” The translation “criminal” is supported by the term’s occurrence later in the letter at 4:14 alongside such stock criminal figures as the “murderer” (foneuv~) and the “thief” (klevpth~). See the discussion of 4:14 below in chapter 10. 188 Brox, Der erste Petrusbrief, 113: “als Kriminelle diffamiert.”
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viniciae.189 Since it is precisely this part of the governor’s mandate that is adduced in 1 Pet 2:14, the term kakopoiov~ must be the Greek equivalent of malus homo, an interpretation that is supported by Pilate’s question to Jesus’ accusers at Mark 15:14: tiv ga;r kako;n ejpoivhsen,190 as well as by their response at John 18:30: eij mh; h\n ou|to~ kako;n poiw`n, oujk a[n soi paredwvkamen aujtovn, where it is offered as a formal charge.191 To be slandered as a kakopoiov~, therefore, is to be accused of being a malus homo, a truly ominous charge that adduces the governor’s imperial mandate and places Christians at odds not only with public opinion but with Roman rule. Commentators who describe the suffering of the readers of 1 Peter as social ostracism with little or no reference to the everpresent threat of active persecution fail to do justice to the predicament facing these early Christians. A second text in the above list that casts light on the stereotypes facing the readers is 4:3–4. It is evident from this text that a number of the readers had converted to Christianity later in life, before which time they socialized actively with their non-Christian neighbors: ajrketo;~ ga;r oJ parelhluqw;~ crovno~ to; bouvlhma tw`n ejqnw`n kateirgavsqai. After their conversion they openly rejected their former behavior in such a way that their neighbors, rightly or wrongly (and we should not automatically assume wrongly), took offence: xenivzontai mh; suntrecovntwn uJmw`n eij~ th;n aujth;n th'~ ajswtiva~ ajnavcusin. The result was that they were “slandered” (blasfhmou'nte~) by they neighbors as anti-social, which criticism was eventually transferred to the group.192 Early Christians themselves no doubt bore some of the responsibility for this. Even in 4:3–4, which seeks to blame their non-Christian neighbors for the social break, these neighbors are unsparingly caricatured as engaging in ajselgeivai~, ejpiqumivai~, oijnoflugivai~, kwvmoi~, povtoi~ kai; ajqemivtoi~ eijdwlolatrivai~.193 According 189
Paulus in Dig., 1.18.3: nam et in mandatis principum est, ut curet is, qui provinciae praeest, malis hominibus provinciam purgare (cf. Sent. Pauli, 5.22.1); Ulpian in Dig., 1.18.13. praef.: Congruit bono et gravi praesidi curare, ut pacta atque quieta provincia sit quam regit. Quod non difficile optinebit, si sollicite agat, ut malis hominibus provincia careat eosque conquirat . See the discussion at Ste. Croix, “Why Were the Early Christians Persecuted?” 16; A. J. M. Jones, Roman Criminal Courts of the Republic and Principate, (Oxford: Blackwell, 1972) 116; John Boardman, Alan K. Bowman, Edward Champlin, and Andrew Lintott, The Cambridge Ancient History: The Augustan Empire, 43 B. C. – A. D. 69 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996) 352. 190 A semi-technical question repeated verbatim at Matt 27:23; Luke 23:22. 191 John 18:29: tivna kathgorivan fevrete kata; tou' ajnqrwvpou touvtou. 192 This is characteristic of stereotyping, which variously develops from “illusory” or partial correlations; David L. Hamilton and Robert K. Gifford, “Illusory Correlation in Interpersonal Perception: A Cognitive Basis of Stereotypic Judgments,” Journal of Experimental Social Psychology 12 (1981) 392–407. 193 Further insults abound in the letter, combined of course with the valorization of the readers: uJmei'~ de; gevno~ ejklektovn, basivleion iJeravteuma, e[qno~ a{gion, lao;~ eij~ peripoivhsin, o{pw~ ta;~ ajreta;~ ejxaggeivlhte tou' ejk skovtou~ uJma'~ kalevsanto~ eij~ to; qaumasto;n aujtou' fw`~ (2:9)!
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to 2:8, they have been divinely predestined to such behavior: eij~ o} kai; ejtevqhsan. One recalls here the familiar charge of “misanthropy” (misanqrwpiva) that was initially leveled at Jewish chauvinism, but which was soon extended to Christians. Two texts from the above list (3:13–16 and 4:14–16) indicate that popular prejudice directed against the readers of 1 Peter was expressing itself not only in negative stereotyping and verbal abuse but in open hostility and legal prosecution, a situation already intimated in the slander of kakopoiov~ discussed above. These texts are key to a correct reading of 1 Peter. The first text (3:13–16) begins with a rhetorical question: “And who is going to harm you if you become zealots for good?” (kai; tiv~ oJ kakwvswn ujma'~ eja;n tou' ajgaqou' zhlwtai; gevnesqe; 3:13).194 A negative answer is obviously intended, something like: “No one is going to harm us” or “is likely to harm us.” But in keeping with the wisdom context of Psalm 34 quoted immediately prior in 3:10–12, this negative is only meant as a rule of thumb and is immediately qualified in the next verse: “But even if you should suffer on account of righteousness, you are blessed” (3:14a). This is an important text, and I will discuss it at length in its fuller context in chapter 9 below. For now let me make the following observations, the first of which is that the verb translated “harm” (kakovw) normally implies physical mistreatment.195 Taken at face value, this indicates that at least some of the readers of 1 Peter, in addition to being the targets of verbal abuse, were facing the realistic possibility of physical persecution.196 But there is more. For having raised the possibility of physical persecution in 3:13–14a, the author of 1 Peter goes on in 3:14b-16 to offer specific advice to his readers on how best to endure this persecution, which almost certainly involved being denounced before for a provincial court. It will be helpful to look at 3:14b-16 as a whole, which is in the form of a list of practical preparations not unlike that offered by Epictetus to his students who faced similar threats of per-
194 The future participle kakwvswn, “going to harm” is noteworthy and may have been chosen to convey a sense of purpose (“who will try to harm you?”) or even likelihood (“who is apt to harm you”). Smyth, Grammar, 454, § 2044: “The future participle marks an action as in prospect at the time denoted by the main verb. Since it expresses an idea of will, it shows that an action is purposed, intended, or expected. With the article it denotes the person or thing likely (or able) to do something” (emphases added). 195 BDAG, s.v. kakovw 1; cf. Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 233–4. There is an odd reluctance in the commentary tradition to take “harm” (kakovw) in its natural sense of physical harm (e.g., Elliott, 1 Peter, 620: “he [the author of 1 Peter] is speaking of ‘harm’ to one’s ultimate status and favor with God”). I see no reason to introduce a rare secondary meaning for the term here. 196 It may be added that when only two verses later in 3:18 Jesus is adduced as an example of innocent suffering, it is his judicial killing (qanatwqeiv~) that is in view, not the fact that he was reviled, as earlier in 2:23. In 1 Peter Jesus serves as an example both for those who are being verbally abused (2:23), and for those who have being physically persecuted (3:18).
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secution because of their philosophical principles.197 Norbert Brox has aptly termed 1 Pet 3:14b-16 a “praeparatio ad martyrium.” 198 The first thing one must do is to not give into fear: to;n de; fovbon aujtw`n mh; fobhqh'te mhde; taracqh'te (3:14b).199 Second, one must resolve to place one’s loyalty to Christ as “lord” above all others, including presumably the emperor: kuvrion de; to;n Crivston aJgiavsate ejn tai'~ kardivai~ (3:15a). Third, one must be ready to make a “defense” (ajpologivan) to anyone who “demands an accounting” (aijtou'nti … lovgon). 200 And fourth and finally, one must take care to stay calm and respectful (meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbou), so that it is not oneself but one’s accusers that will be put to shame in public confrontation (3:15b-16). Virtually every item in this list suggests that some sort of official hearing is in view. 201 The admonition not to give into “fear” (fovbon) is a common theme in 197 E.g., Diss 1.1.22; 1.30; cf. 1.19; 4.1.172; translation and commentary in Robert Dobbin, Epictetus Discourses Book I (Oxford: Clarendon, 1998), with additional discussion in Anthony A. Long, “Representations and the Self in Stoicism,” in Stephen Everson, ed., Psychology, Companions to Ancient Thought 2 (New York: Cambridge, 1991) 102–20. 198 Erster Petrusbrief, 158; cf. Reichert, Eine urchristliche Praeparatio ad Martyrium. 199 Imperial authority has been in view since 2:13–14 (basilei' … hJgemovsin); cf. 2:17 (to;n basileva tima'te). Fear of an imperial governor was not limited to provincials of low status: Esse se provinciales et ad omnes proconulum imperium metu cogi (Pliny, Ep. 3.9.15); cf. the infamous boast of the proconsul of Asia Volesus Messala after executing 300 people in a single day: ecce regale factum (Tac., Ann 3.68; Sen, De ira 2.5.5). 200 Many commentators (e.g., Achtmeier, 1 Peter, 233) resist seeing a court appearance here on the grounds that the readers are urged to be ready with a defense “for everyone” (pantiv) who demands an accounting, which they allege imagines an audience wider than just a provincial judge: “die Weite einer universalistischen missionarischen Apologetik”(Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 237). But that is to misread the rhetorical force of pantiv, which is something like “be ready to give a defense to everyone who asks, including the governor!” To be sure pantiv expands the field, but it is not expanding it to include the person on the street – that is where it begins – but rather is moving beyond everyday conversation to include the provincial government, which of course has been in the background since 2:13–17. It is sometimes also objected that the expression “hope that is in you” (th'~ ejn uJmi'n ejlpivdo~) is more appropriate to evangelism than judicial defense. But that is to imagine wrongly the situation based on modern courtroom protocol. The provincial cognitio, as we have seen, was an informal hearing in which the judge, often the governor himself, was free to pursue any line of questioning that he found helpful to assess the claims before him, including questions about the beliefs and religious practices of Christians, as Pliny reports doing at Ep. 10.96.8 (cf. Livy 39.13!). It is simply a fact that Christians assumed in this early period that if they gave a convincing account of their faith that they would be seen to be innocent of any crime; e.g., Speratus at Mart. Scil. 4: Si tranquillas praebueris aures tuas, dico mysterium simplicitatis. 201 It is one of the great oddities of modern New Testament scholarship that despite the cumulative force of this evidence, the vast majority of recent commentators have resisted seeing legal accusation and prosecution as part of the situation informing 1 Peter. The reasons for this are complicated, but I suspect that they include a more or less romantic view of Roman law and through it of modern Western jurisprudence. For a more sober assessment of the sociology of Roman criminal law, see Harries, Law and Crime in the Roman World, 28–42; cf. John W. Cairns and Paul J. du Plessis, eds., Beyond Dogmatics: Law and Society in the Roman World (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007); Olivia J. Robinson, “Roman Law:
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early persecution texts. Equally suggestive is the insistence that Christians resolve to only confess Christ as “lord” (kuvrio~), since Roman emperors from at least the time of Claudius were laying claim to this title. 202 Here note especially that martyred bishop Polycarp was ordered by his persecutors to confess “Caesar is lord” (Kuvrio~ Kai'sar). 203 Even more revealing is the admonition in 3:15 to be prepared to make a “defense” to anyone who “demands an accounting” of one’s faith, since the natural sense of both of these expressions (ajpologiva and aijtei'n lovgon), especially when taken together, is the courtroom. 204 Finally, the admonition to be careful to make one’s defense meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbou makes excellent sense as an attempt to preempt the kind of courtroom defiance for which Christians quickly became famous, and which generally ended in their deaths. As Pliny says: pertinaciam certe et inflexibilem obstinationem debere puniri. 205 Something more severe than verbal abuse is also in view in 1 Pet 4:12–19. The readers are “surprised” to find themselves in the midst of a puvrwsi~, a “conflagration” or “fiery ordeal” (4:12). They are sharing in “the sufferings of Christ” (toi'~ tou' Cristou' paqhvmasin; 4:13), which to be sure involve intense verbal abuse: eij ojneidivzesqe ejn ojnovmati Cristou', makavrioi, o{ti to; th'~ dovxh~ kai; to;; tou' qeou' pneu'ma ejf j uJma'~ ajnapauvetai (4:14). But these sufferings also include criminal accusation and the judicial penalties that follow, for in 4:15–16 suffering “as a Christian” (wJ~ Cristianov~) is placed on par with suffering “as a murderer or thief or malus homo” (wJ~ foneu;~ h] klevpth~ h] kakopoiov~). 206 Confronted with these terrifying realities – which if we take the “Do not be surprised!” of 4:12 seriously had just recently developed – the only option the readers have is to prepare an “apology” as recommended in 1 Pet 3:15 and to convince themselves that they are not in the final analysis coming before human Reality and Context – The Role of Delators in Roman Law and Life,” in Richard Gamauf, ed., Festschrift für Herbert Hausmaninger zum 70. Geburtstag (Vienna: Manz, 2006) 255–67. 202 On the title kurivo~ see the evidence in TWNT 3:1052–56; BDAG, s.v. kurivo~ (II) 2bb, “Fr[om] the time of Claudius … we find the Rom[an] emperors so designated in increasing measure”; for an expression of single-hearted devotion similar to 1 Pet 3:14, see Orig., C. Cels. 8.6.12: fobouvmenoi to;n e{na kurivon aujtw`n to;n Lukouvrgou novmon (“[the Lacedaemonians who respect as their one and only lord, the law of Lycurgus”). 203 Mart. Pol. 8.2; see the discussion in Buschmann, Das Martyrium des Polycarp, 170–1. 204 Cf. 1 Pet 4:5 where this language is repeated (oi} ajpodwvsousin lovgon) and where a courtroom setting is clearly in view; Mart. Pol. 10.1–2. 205 Plin., Ep. 10.96.3. 206 Note that at this point the author of 1 Peter has come full circle, returning to the initial accusation of being a kakopoiov~ introduced in 2:12. The effort of commentators like Elliott to downplay the seriousness of kakopoiov~ by linking it with ajllotriepivskopo~ is unconvincing, since the repetition of wJ~ before ajllotriepivskopo~ places it in a separate category and links kakopoiov~ with foneu;~ and klevpth~: wJ~ foneu;~ h] klevpth~ h] kakopoiov~ wJ~ ajllotriepivskopo~.
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courts, but before the court of God, who is beginning the final judgment of the world with them oJ kairov~ tou' a[rzasqai to; krivma ajpo; tou' oi[kou tou' qeou'. 207 Beyond that they must simply trust their “souls” (yucaiv) to God, following the example of their martyred Christ. 208 1 Pet 4:12–19 is an especially informative text in that it illustrates how seamlessly verbal abuse (4:14) leads to judicial violence (4:15–16) in the mind of the author and presumably in the social world in which he and his readers existed. 209 Though modern interpreters of 1 Peter have struggled to keep together what to their minds are, or at least should be, separate phenomena, to the author of 1 Peter social prejudice and judicial action are part of a single continuum. To his mind there can be no radical break between these, since the one can always lead to the other, which is precisely what he is trying his best to prevent. Simply put, anti-Christian prejudice was at all times a lethal threat. 210 It takes very little imagination to see how threatening religious prejudice must have been for the readers and author of 1 Peter and therefore why he wrote to advise his readers on how to cope with it.
Conclusion More than half a century ago G. E. M. de Ste Croix warned against underestimating the great suffering of Christians caused by anti-Christian prejudice, “by the atmosphere of hostility, liable to turn at any moment into active
207
For this apocalyptic topos, see the discussion below in Chapter 4. Cf. 2:23: o}~ loidorouvmeno~ oujk ajntiloidovrei, pavscwn oujk hjpeivlei, paredivdou de; tw`/ krivnonti dikaivw~. 209 Because of its placement near the end of the letter, 1 Pet 4:12–19 is also informative of the author’s pastoral sensibilities. He believes his readers to be facing an explosive and likely lethal situation, but he does not spring this one them immediately. He will be frank, almost brutally so by 4:12–19, but he will build to this conclusion, having done everything within his power to prepare them. 210 This point cannot be emphasized too much, especially in light of the perpetuation of dated misconceptions in the commentary tradition that draw too firm a distinction between social prejudice and legal action in the provincial courts of the early Roman Empire. Elliott, 1 Peter, 794: “there is no basis for claiming that at the time of 1 Peter Christianity had been officially proscribed by Rome and that being labeled a Christian implied being charged as a criminal”; Steven R. Bechtler, Following in His Steps: Suffering, Community, and Christology in 1 Peter (SBLDS 162; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998) 19: “the suffering with which 1 Peter is concerned is not due to an empire-wide persecution of Christians instigated by the emperor … [but] social ostracism at the hands of their non- Christian neighbors.” Both of these statements, which presuppose the above false dichotomy, are perceptively critiqued by Horrell, I Peter (NTG) 56–8 (cited above in the Introduction). Elliott’s claim that “Christian” at this time did not mean “criminal” is particularly striking given the fact that Christians are explicitly called criminals (kakokoioiv) in 1 Peter. 208
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persecution.”211 In this and the preceding chapter I have attempted to take seriously that warning and to paint a full picture of anti- Christian prejudice and its outcomes in the early centuries c.e. More specifically I have argued that prejudice with all of its disturbing outcomes forms the immediate occasion of 1 Peter. It remains to examine how the author of 1 Peter sought to console his readership in their suffering and to advise them on how to cope with their predicaments.
211 “Aspects of the ‘Great’ Persecution,” HTR 47 (1954) 104. See now also the excellent discussion in Olivia F. Robinson, Penal Practice and Penal Policy in Ancient Rome (London: Routledge, 2001) 99–129.
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Chapter Four
Ancient Theories and Practices of Consolation: Greco-Roman and Early Jewish Traditions You, Lord, are the one who reveals to those who fear you what has been prepared for them so that you might console them.*
I have thus far argued that 1 Peter was occasioned by a sharp increase in antiChristian prejudice, including the threat of prosecution in the provincial courts as kakopoioiv or mali homines. I will now offer a reading of 1 Peter as a dedicated response to these difficult developments, a response that seeks (1) to console the readers in their suffering1 and (2) to advise them on how best to cope with their predicaments. I lay the groundwork for this reading in this and the next chapter. In the next chapter I will survey the strategies for coping with prejudice that have been identified by modern social psychology in the hope that these will cast light on the coping strategies proposed in 1 Peter. In the present chapter I examine the strategies of consolation that would have been available to the author of 1 Peter from contemporary Greco-Roman and Jewish consolatory traditions. I will divide my discussion of ancient consolation into two parts: (1) GrecoRoman consolation and (2) Jewish consolation. The ancient evidence for consolation is extensive, so I will focus on consolatory strategies most relevant to 1 Peter. 2 I will devote a disproportionate amount of space to Jewish consolation, * 2 (Syriac) Baruch. 1 It is widely admitted that 1 Peter is consolatory, though as yet any discussion of consolation in 1 Peter has been partial and impressionistic. Brox’s final footnote in his fine EKK commentary – a call now repeated in the 2nd ed. – is as revealing as it is correct: “Instruktiv zum frühchristlichen Weg der Leidbewältigung ist ein Vergleich mit zeitgenössischer Trostliteratur” (Der erste Petrusbrief, 258). I have attempted to correct for some of this in my article, “Nihil inopinai accidisse – ‘Nothing unexpected has happened’: A Cyrenaic Consolatory Topos in 1 Pet 4.12ff,” NTS 48 (2002) 433–48. 2 The literary sources for Greco-Roman consolation are collected by Carl Buresch, “Consolationum a Graecis Romanisque scriptarum historia critica,” Leipziger Studien zur classischen Philologie 9 (1886) 1–170; more recently: Rudolf Kassel, Untersuchungen sur griechishen und römischen Konsolationsliteratur (Zetemata 18; Munich: Beck, 1958); H. T. Johann, Trauer und Trost: Eine quellen- und strukturanalytische Untersuchung der philosophischen Trostschriften über den Tod (STA 5; Munich: Fink, 1968); Jean Hani, “La Consolation Antique,” in REA 75 (1973) 103–110. For the non-literary papyri, see Juan Chapa, Let-
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not only because of its obvious relevance to 1 Peter, but because unlike GrecoRoman consolation it has yet to be studied in any detail my modern scholars.
Greco-Roman Consolation On the Nature of Greco-Roman Consolation The skillful use of consolatory topoi can be detected as early as Homer.3 Judging from extant evidence, however, the problem of grief did not begin to be addressed systematically until the 5th and early 4th centuries b.c.e. Doxographical tradition credits a number of important figures from this period with compositions that were either directly or indirectly consolatory.4 The early lyric poets Simonides and Pindar5 and the dramatic poets, especially Euripides,6 also regularly employed consolatory topics, as did orators on occasion.7 Plato treats consolatory themes at Ap. 39E-42A, Phd. 115D, and in his discussion of tragedy
ters of Condolence in Greek Papyri (Papyrologica Florentina 29; Florence: Gonnelli, 1998); idem, “Consolatory Patterns? 1 Thes 4,13.18; 5,11,” in Raymond F. Collins, ed., The Thessalonian Correspondence (BETL 87; Leuven: Leuven Univeristy Press, 1990) 220–228. Inscriptional evidence can be found in Richmond Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs (Illinois Studies in Language and Literature 28.1–2; Urbana, IL: University of Illinois, 1942). 3 Il. 6.486–9; 12.322; 24.128–132; 24.522–51 (cf. Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 105C); later tradition extolled Homer as the model consoler (Quint., Inst. 10.1.47; Men. Rh. 2.15.434.11–18). 4 These works focused largely on death, but other themes such as exile, shipwreck, poverty, and old age were also treated. On death: Democritus, Peri; tw`n ejn ai{dou (Diog. Laert. 9.46; cf. Stob., Flor. 4.52.40 = Democritus frag. B 297 DK); Antisthenes, Peri; tw`n ejn ai{dou, Peri; tou' ajpoqanei'n, and Peri; zwh'~ kai; qanavtou (Diog. Laert. 6.15); Diogenes of Sinope, Peri; qanavtou (Diog. Laert. 6.80; cf. Jer., Ep. 60.5.2); Xenocrates of Chalcedon, Peri; qanavtou (Diog. Laert. 4.11); at Tusc. 1.48.116 Cicero credits the 4th century sophist Alcidamus with a laudatio mortis. On other themes: Aristippus, Pro;~ tou;~ nauagouv~, Pro;~ tou;~ fugavda~, and Pro;~ ptwcovn (Diog. Laert. 2.84); Theophrastus, Peri; ghvrw~ (Diog. Laert. 5.42); and Demetrius of Phalerum, Peri; ghvrw~ (Diog. Laert. 9.20); cf. Teles, frag. 3 Hense for fragments of the Megarian scholarch Stilpo (ca. 380 – 300 b.c.e.). See further: Stob., Flor. 4.32.1–22 (PERI PENIAS); 4.50.1–31 (PERI GHRWS). 5 Simonid., frags. 520–31 PMG Page; Pind., Pyth. 3; frags. 128a-38 Snell-Maehler; Buresch, historia critica, 18–20. 6 See the texts collected in Constantine C. Grollios, Tevcnh ajlupiva~: konoi; tovpoi tou' Pro;~ Poluvbion tou' Senevka kai; phgai; aujtw`n ( JEllhnika, paravrthma 10; Athens: Christou & Son, 1956) 49–59; Kassel, Konsolationsliteratur, 4–12; cf. W. Schaeffer, Argumenta consolatoria: quae apud veteres Graecorum scriptores inveniuntur (Ph. D. diss. Göttingen, 1921). 7 Note esp. Pl., Menex. 284A-C; cf. Lys. 2.80, [Demosthenes] 60.33f.; Hyper., Or. 6.35ff.; Thuc. [Pericles] 2.44–46. Buresch, historia critica, 89–91; N. Loraux, L’Invention d’ Athènes: histoire de l’oraison funèbre dans la “cité classique” (Civilisations et sociétés 65; Paris: Mouton, 1981).
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at Resp. 10.604B.8 Plutarch reports that the fifth-century sophist Antiphon composed a tecnh; ajlupiva~ or “handbook on the alleviation of grief.”9 By the second half of the 4th century lengthy letter-essays on consolation begin to appear, most notably Theophrastus’s Kallisqevnh~ h] Peri; pevnqou~10 and Epicurus’s E j pistolh; pro;~ Dwsivqeon, written on the death of Dositheus’s son Hegesianax.11 Both of these works, now lost, anticipate the influential Peri; pevnqou~ of the Academic philosopher Crantor of Soli (ca. 335 – ca. 275 b.c.e.),12 of which only fragments survive.13 Of probably equal influence, especially for the Latin tradition, was Cicero’s Consolatio, which he composed for his own comfort after the death of his daughter Tullia. A philosophically eclectic piece, the Consolatio brought together arguments from Stoic, Epicurean, Cyrenaic, Peripatetic, and Academic sources.14 It too has been lost, though much of its substance is preserved in Tusculanae Disputationes book 3.15 A large number of consolations survive from the late Roman Republic and early Empire. The best attested form is the consolatory letter, examples of which may be found in the letter collections of Cicero, Seneca, and Pliny, and later, in the letters of Fronto, Apollonius of Tyana, Julian, and Libanius.16 Several much 8 Buresch, historia critica, 20–21; cf. Phaedo 115D: paramuqouvmeno~ a{ma me;n uJma'~, a{ma d j ejmautovn. For consolatory arguments in Xenephon, see Buresch, op cit., 21–33. The pseudoPlatonic Axiochus is an attempt to give Socratic (and Platonic) credence to an eclectic collection of consolatory arguments on death (Buresch, op. cit., 9–18). 9 Vit. X orat. 833C-D. 10 Frag. 3 Wimmer; Cic., Tusc. 3.10.21; 5.9.25; Diog. Laert. 5.44; Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 104D. 11 Plut., Adv. Col. 1101B; Diog. Laert. 10.28. Epicurus’ consolatory arguments are repeated in Lucr. 3.830–1094; cf. Metrodorus’ consolatory letter to his sister (Sen., Ep. 98.9; 99.25). 12 Panaetius, in his consolatory letter to Tubero, said that it was “to be learned verbatim.” (apud Cic., Acad. pr. 2.135: ad verbum ediscendus). Cicero called it “a golden booklet” (aureolus libellus) that everyone reads (ibid.). Diogenes Laertius, writing after the genre had reached its acme, still referred to it as “very much marveled at” (4.27: qaumavzetai … mavlista). 13 F. Kayser, De Crantore academico dissertatio (Heidelberg, 1841), F. W. A. Mullach, Fragmenta philosophorum Graecorum, 3 vols. (Paris: Didot, 1860–81) 3.131–52; K. Kuiper, “De Crantoris fragmentis moralibus,” Mnemosyne 29 (1901) 341–62. A number of attempts have been made to reconstruct this important source; most recently by Johann, Trauer und Trost, 127–136 and passim. 14 Tusc. 3.31.76: ut fere nos in Consolatione omnia in consolationem unam coniecimus. 15 Cicero refers to his earlier Consolatio at Tusc. 1.26.65, 31.76, 34.83; 3.28.70, 31.76; 4.22.63. Cf. K. Kumaniecki, “A propos de la ‘Consolatio’ perdue de Cicéron,” AFLA 46 (1969) 369–402. 16 Cic., Ad fam. 4.5; (Sulpicius Rufus) 5.16; 5.18; Ad Att. 12.10; 15.1; Ad Brut. 1.9; Sen., Ep. 63; 93; 99; Plin., Ep. 1.12; 3.21; 9.9; Fronto, De nepote amisso, 1; 2, and Ad Verum Imp. 2.9; 10; Apoll. Tyan., Ep. 55, 58; Jul., Ep. 69; 201; Liban., Ep. 344; 1473; cf. Phalar., Ep. 10; 103; P.Oxy. 1.115; PGrenf. 2.36; P.Wisc. 84 (letter 1); cf. Stanley K. Stowers, Letter Writing in GrecoRoman Antiquity (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986) 145–47, 152. The Lamprias catalogue mentions two consolatory letters of Plutarch (111: Paramuqhtikov~ eij~ jAsklhpiavdhn; 157:
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longer letter-essays in the tradition of Crantor’s Peri; pevnqou~ and Cicero’s Consolatio also survive.17 The most substantial verse consolation from this period is the pseudo-Ovidian Consolatio ad Liviam, an elegy of almost 475 lines on the death of Drusus.18 Other consolatory poems include: Catullus 96; Horace, Carm. 2.9; Ovid, Am. 3.9; Ex Ponto, 4.11; Statius, Silv. 5.1.19 Many funerary inscriptions, both Greek and Latin, are also consolatory,20 as are the private funeral orations of Dio Chrysostom (Or. 28 and 29), Aelius Aristides (Or. 31), and Libanius (Or. 17 and 18). 21 In principle, consolation could be offered for any misfortune. So, for instance, Pseudo-Demetrius broadly defines the consolatory letter as one written to those grieving “because something unpleasant has happened to them” (duscerou'~ tino~ gegonovto~). 22 We have already noted the doxographical evidence for consolations on death, old age, poverty, shipwreck, and exile. Cicero mentions handbook discussions of these and other misfortunes at Tusc. 3.34.81:23 Pro;~ Fhstivan paramuqhtikov~). The consolatory letter reached its high point early in Sulpicius Rufus’ elegant and still moving letter written to Cicero on the death of Tullia; cf. Kassel, Untersuchungen, 98–103. 17 Seneca: Ad Polybium de consolatione, Ad Marciam de consolatione, and Ad Helviam matrem de consolatione; Plutarch: De exilio and Consolatio ad uxorem; Pseudo-Plutarch: Consolatio ad Apollonium. In connection with these longer pieces, often called “consolations proper”, mention should be made of Cicero’s dialogue De senectute and Musonius’ diatribe {Oti ouj kako;n hJ fughv (frag. 9 Hense); cf. Teles, frag. 3 Hense (Peri; fugh'~) and Dio Chrysostom’s thirteenth oration (on his exile); Clitomachus’ consolatory letter to the survivors of the destruction of Carthage in 146 (Cic., Tusc. 3.22.54; Jer., Ep. 60.5.2) may have been of this longer letter-essay type. The Lamprias catalogue (172) attributes a Peri; ajlupiva~ to Plutarch. 18 Henk Schoonhoven, The Pseudo-Ovidian AD LIVIAM DE MORTE DRUSI (Consolatio ad Liviam, Epicedium Drusi) A Critical Text with introduction and commentary (Gröningen: Forsten, 1992). 19 See further: Cat. 3; Ov., Ex Ponto, 1.9; Propert. 2.13; 3.18; Stat., Silv. 2.1; 2.4; 2.6; 2.7; 3.3; 5.3; 5.5; Lucr. 3.830–1094; Mart. 1.88; 1.101; 5.34; 5.37; 6.28; 6.29; 6.85; 7.40; 9.74; 10.61; 11.91. José Esteve-Forriol, Die Trauer- und Trostgedichte in der römischen Literatur (Munich: Schubert, 1962). 20 Lattimore; Themes, 215–265. For consolation in the laudatio funebris, see Wilhelm Kierdorf, Laudatio Funebris: Interpretation und Untersuchungen zur Entwicklung der römischen Leichenrede (Beiträge zur klassischen Philologie 106; Meisenheim am Glan: Hain, 1980) 82–90. 21 Also, Himer., Or. 8 Colonna (on the death of his son Rufinius) and Them., Or. 20 (on his father). 22 Form. epist. 5. 23 Cf. Dio Chrys., Or. 27.7–9. On the destruction of one’s country, see also Tusc. 3.22.54 (see Grollios, Tevcnh ajlupiva~, 29) and Sen., Ep. 91.1; for poverty: Tusc. 3.24.57; Sen., Ad Helv. 10–13; for illness: Ps.-Jer., Ep. 5, Greg. Naz., Ep. 31.4; cf. H. Savon, “Une consolation imitée de Sénèque et de saint Cyprian (Pseudo-Jérôme, epistula 5 ad amicum aegrotum),” RecAug 14 [1979] 153–90; for blindness: Jer., Ep. 76.2. Old age was a common subject: in addition to the two treatises on old age attributed to Theophrastus (Diog. Laert. 5.42) and Demetrius of
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For there are specific [remedies] customarily spoken regarding poverty, specific remedies regarding life without honor or fame; there are separate forms of discourse respectively for exile, the destruction of one’s country, slavery, illness, blindness, and any other mishap that might properly be called a calamity.
Dio provides a similar list at Or. 16.3 (Peri; luvph~). Other subjects included legal difficulties (Cic., Ad fam. 5.18; Sen., Ep. 24; cf. Ep. 17), political and/or financial setbacks (Cic., Ad fam. 5.13; 16; 17; Sen., Ep. 21), an ungrateful client (Sen., Ep. 81), the flight of a slave (Sen., Ep. 107), and fraud (Juv., Sat. 13). 24 Ancient consolers generally made a sharp distinction between consolation and sympathy or sharing in another’s lamentation. We see this distinction already in Thucydides who has Pericles state in the peroration to his famous epitaphios: “I do not lament; rather, I shall console” (oujk ojlofuvromai ma'llon h] paramuqhvsomai).25 Aelianus preserves a similar dictum of Aristippus’: “I have come not to share your grief but to stop it” (h{kw par j uJma'~ oujc wJ~ sullupouvmeno~, ajll j i{na pauvsw uJma'~ lupoumevnou~). 26 At De ex. 599B, Plutarch contrasts lamentation with consolation, equating the latter with frank moral instruction:27 For we do not have need of those who, like tragic choruses, weep and wail with us in unwanted circumstances, but of those who will speak to us frankly (parrhsiazomevnwn) and instruct us (didaskovntwn) that grief and self-abasement are useless in every circumstance.
It was not uncommon, however, for consolers to begin with words of sympathy acknowledging the depth of the other’s suffering. 28 Phalerum (Diog. Laert. 9.20) mentioned above, see Cicero’s De senectute, and the fragments of Favorinus’ Peri; ghvrw~ (frag. 9–17 Barigazzi); Cic., De sen. 1.3, alludes to a treatise on old age by Aristo of Chios; cf. Dio Chrys., Or. 13.3. 24 The two most commonly treated topics in our period, of course, were death and exile. On death: Mary Evaristus, The Consolations of Death in Ancient Greek Literature (Washington: Catholic University Press, 1917); N. Hultin, “The Rhetoric of Consolation: Studies in the Development of the ‘Consolatio Mortis’” (diss. Johns Hopkins, 1965); cf. Stob., Flor. 4.51.1–32 (PERI QANATOU). On the special problem of early death (mors immatura), see: Ewald Griessmair, Das Motiv der Mors Immatura in den griechischen metrischen Grabinschristen (Innsbruck: Universitätsverlag, 1966); A.-M. Vérilhac, Pai'de~ a[wroi. Poésie funébaire, 2 vols. (Athens: Athens Academy Press, 1978–82). On exile: Alfred Giesecke, De philosophorum veterum quae de exilium spectant sententiis (Leipzig: Teubner, 1891); texts include: Teles, frag. 3 Hense (Peri; fugh'~ [= Stob., Flor. 3.40.8ff.]); and Cic., Ad fam. 4.13; Muson., frag. 9 Hense ( {Oti ouj kako;n hJ fughv), Plut., De ex.; Sen., Ad Helv.; Dio Chrys., Or. 13 (Peri; fugh'~); Cass. Dio, 38.18–30 (Philiscus’ consolation of the exiled Cicero); Favorin., frag. 22 Barigazzi (Peri; fugh'~); cf. John Chrys., Ep ad Olymp. 25 2.44; cf. Plato, Menex. 247C-D. More subtle is Epicurus’ dictum (Sent. Vat. 66) that we should show sympathy to our friends not by lamenting with them but by caring for them in their time of need: sumpaqw`men toi'~ fivloi~ ouj qrhnou'nte~ ajlla; frontivzonte~. 26 Var. hist. 7.3. 27 Cf. Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 117F-118A; cf. Bion’s barb in Tusc. 3.26.62; Epict., Ench. 16. 28 See the theoretical discussions in Men. Rh. 2.9; Greg. Naz., Ep. 165; cf. Ps.-Demetr., Form. epist., 5. See further, Kassel, Untersuchungen, 51, 98 n. 1; Charles Favez, “Le Sentiment
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As a form of moral instruction ancient consolation consisted primarily of a series of arguments against grief, 29 which arguments were typically bolstered with various exhortations and pieces of practical advice.30 This practical material could stand by itself as a separate section of a consolation, as is arguably the case in 1 Peter,31 but just as often it was interspersed with argumentation. 32 Two common exhortations were not to allow grief to cause one to neglect one’s responsibilities (officia),33 and to humbly accept one’s fate as from God.34 If a consoler decided that a mourner was indulging excessively in grief, exhortation changed to rebuke, which could be quite sharp: “You are expecting some words of comfort? Take a scolding instead! You are taking your son’s death in a weak and unworthy manner.”35 dans les consolations de Sénèque,” Mélanges Paul Thomas: recueil de mémoires concernant la philologie classique dédié à Paul Thomas (Bruges: Sainte Catherine, 1930) 262–270; R. G. M. Nisbet and M. Hubbard, A Commentary on Horace: Odes, Book I (Oxford: Clarendon, 1970) 280–81; Stowers, Letter Writing, 142–44. Examples include: Cic., Ad fam. 4.5.1; 1.18.1; (Sulpicuius Rufus) 5.16.1; Sen., Ep. 63.1; Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 101E; POxy. 115 ad init.; Jul., Ep. 201 B-C; Liban., Ep. 1473. J. H. D. Scourfield, Consoling Heliodorus: A Commentary on Jerome “Letter 60” (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993) 80–81, cites the following early Christian examples: Jer. Ep. 39.1.2; 60.1.1; 75.1.1; Ambr., Ep. 15.1; Obit. Valent. 26; Bas. Ep. 29; 301 ad init.; 302 ad init. 29 Cicero, following Chrysippus, distinguished two general strategies of consolatory argument: (1) to attack the object of distress or (2) to attack the feeling of distress as such (Tusc. 4.27.58–28.61; cf. Tusc. 3.32.77). For the second approach, see esp. Kassel, Untersuchungen, 54–56; cf. Cic., Ad fam. 5.17.3. This finds an interesting parallel in modern coping studies which distinquish between problem-focused coping strategies and emotion-focused strategies (see discussion below in Chapter 5). 30 Cf. Sen., Ep. 94.39: consolationes…dissuasionesque et adhortationes et obiurgationes et laudationes…omnia ista monitionum genera sunt. 31 1 Peter may be roughly divided into words of consolation (1:3–12 + 4:12 to end) and words of advice (1:13–4:11). See further my discussion in below. 32 Ps.-Demetr., Form. epist. 5 gives the impression that exhortation was a separate section of the consolatory letter (cf. Stowers, Letter-Writing, 144; Marcel Guignet, Les procédés épistolaires de Saint Grégoire de Nazianze [Paris: Picard, 1911] 80 ff.), and some have seen a separate hortatory conclusion in Menander Rhetor’s prescription for the consolatory speech (2.9.25). But this was not necessarily the case (Jane F. Mitchell, “Consolatory Letters in Basil and Gregory Nazianzen,” Hermes 96 (1968) 299–318, here 303). 33 Sen., Ad Helv. 18.7–8: “this sacred duty (officium) will bring you relief”; cf. Ad Poly. 5.4: “you ought to give your brothers an example by bearing this injustice of Fortune bravely.” 34 Sen., Ad Marc. 10.2 (sine querella); Ad Poly. 2.2 (facere litem) 4.1 (accurare fata); Ep. 107.9 (sine murmuratione; gemens); Plut., Ad ux. 610E-F, 611B. Lattimore, Themes, 147–158, and esp. 183–4 has collected the epigraphic evidence; cf. Albert B. Purdie, Some Observations on Latin Verse Inscriptions (London: Christophers, 1935) 44–48. 35 Sen., Ep. 99.2: Solacia expectas? Convicia accipe. Molliter tu fers mortem filii. Cf. 99.32 (castigarem); Cic., Ad Brut. 1.9.1; Greg. Naz., Ep. 165: ta; de; i[sw~ ejpitimh'sai; Jer., Ep. 39.3–4; Ambr., Ep. 39; John Chrys., Ep. ad Olymp. 8.3.11–13 Malingrey: eij de; pavlin moi ta; aujta; levgei~ o{ti “bouvlomai mevn, oujk ijscuvw dev,” pavlin soi kai; ejgw; ta; aujta; ejrw` “skhvyi~ tau'ta kai; provfasi~”; cf. 17.4.32–43; and of course the book of Job (see below).
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Consolation and Philosophy As an attempt to overcome grief by rational means consolation was a topic of considerable interest to philosophers.36 Each major philosophical school developed its own approach based on such things as its view of the soul, its doctrine of good and evil, and its theory of the passions. Most of the writings of these schools have now been lost. In the case of consolation, however, we are fortunate that Cicero, who read widely on the subject after Tullia’s death, treated the topic at length in his Tusculanae Disputationes. Here is his summary of the major theories at 3.31.76: Some, like Cleanthes, believe that the consoler’s only task is to convince the person afflicted with grief that the alleged “evil” is not an evil at all. Others, like the Peripatetics, argue that the evil in question is not great. Others, like the Epicureans, try to avert our attention away from evil things to good things. Others, like the Cyrenaics, think that it is sufficient to show that nothing unexpected has happened.
These theories were well known in antiquity and it will be helpful to elaborate briefly on each of them. Before doing so, however, I should offer two caveats. First, we must not imagine that consolation in theory was anything like consolation in practice. Confronted with the desperation of a grieving friend or loved one, few consolers, whatever their theoretical commitments, had the gumption to remain philosophical purists. Actual consolation was almost always eclectic. Cicero himself makes this point only a few lines after the above summary:37 And still others favor employing all these types of consolation – for one person is moved in one way, while another person is moved in another – much as I in my Consolation tossed them all into one attempt to find comfort, since my soul was infected and swollen and I was trying to heal it by every means.
Second, we must not think that even when the following theories were deployed they remained unchanged. Grief is always a specific event in the life of a specific person and consolers were quick to adapt arguments to meet the needs of the moment. The first view Cicero lists is that of the Stoic scholarch Cleanthes, according to which “the consoler’s only task is to convince the person afflicted with grief that the alleged ‘evil’ is not an evil at all” – and that grief is therefore wholly unwarranted. This is the Stoic ideal of “apathy” (ajpavqeia) applied to the passion
36 Writing at the end of the first century c.e. Dio Chrysostom takes it for granted that when someone is suffering from grief he or she seeks out a philosopher: ka]n ajpolevsa~ tuvch/ tina; tw`n oijkeivwn, h] gunai'ka h] pwi'da h] ajdelfovn, ajxiou'sin ajfiknei'sqai to;n filovsopon kai; parhgorei'n (Or. 27.9); cf. Plut. Superst. 168C: ajpokleivetai de; penqouvnto~ oJ nouqetw`n kai; paramuqouvmeno~ filovsofo~. See also Stowers, Letter Writing, 142–3. 37 Tusc. 3.31.76; cf. Ad Att. 12.14.3; J. E. Atkinson, “Seneca’s ‘Consolatio ad Polybium’,” ANRW 2.32.870–2.
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of grief.38 Three suppositions underlie the Stoic theory of the passions in general and Cleanthes’s theory of grief in particular: (1) that the soul is unitary and is therefore wholly rational,39 (2) that the only real good is virtue, the only real evil vice, and that everything else is morally “indifferent” (ajdiavforon),40 and (3) that the passions (including grief), deriving as they do from incorrect conventional judgments of good and evil, are always irrational and excessive and thus have no place in the rational soul.41 On this account grief always originates in a false judgment of the form “X is an evil” (where X stands for some present state of affairs), when the correct judgment would have been “X is neither good nor evil but a matter of indifference.”42 Consolers regularly used Cleanthes’s method for lesser types of misfortune,43 but they rarely used it in consolations of death, where it was judged to be too harsh and unrealistic.44 Cicero next mentions Peripatetic theory,45 according to which the consoler’s task is to convince the person afflicted with grief that “the evil in question is not 38 The Stoics recognized four principal “passions” (pavqh): desire (ejpiqumiva), pleasure (hJdonhv); fear (fovbo~), and pain (luvph, perhaps better translated “mental pain” and in certain contexts “grief”). Various species of these were distinguished, but the lists were by no means standardized. Cicero distinguishes fourteen species of “pain” (Tusc. 4.7.16), Pseudo-Andronicus twenty five (De pass. 2 = SVF 3.414); Diogenes Laertius nine (7.11 = SVF 3.412); Nemesius four (De nat. hom. 19 = SVF 3.416). 39 Chrysippus according to Gal., De plac. 4.4 (p. 115.22–25 DeLacy) = SVF 3.462. 40 Sen., Ep. 13.4; cf. Maximilian Forschner, Die stoische Ethik: Über den Zusammenhang von Natur-, Sprach- und Moralphilosophie im altstoischen System (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1981) 160–82. 41 Stob., Ecl. 2.88.10 (= SVF 3.378). 42 Marc. Aur., Med. 8.47: “If you are grieved by anything external to yourself, it is not that thing that troubles you, but your judgment about it.” Examples of the topos include: Seneca, Ad Helv. 5.1; Teles, frag. 3.22.1f. Hense (citing Stilpo); 29.2f. Hense; Muson., frag. 9.42.6 Hense, cf. 50.9f. Hense; Plut, De ex. 599D; Philiscus apud Cass. Dio 38.26.2; Dio Chrys., Or. 13.8; Favorin., frag. 22.22.44–48 Barigazzi; cf. Leokadia Malunowiczowna, “Les éléments stoïciens dan la consolation grecque chrétienne,” in E. A. Livingston, ed., Studia Patristica 13/2 (TU 116; Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1975) 35. For the topos in Paul, see Phil 1:10. 43 Peter Meinel, Seneca über seine Verbannung. Trostschrift an die Mutter Helvia (Bonn: Habelt, 1972) 56–72; Karlhans Abel, Bauformen in Senecas Dialogen. Fünf Strukturanalysen: dial. 6, 11, 12, 1 und 2 (Bibliothek der klassischen Altertumswissenschaften 2.18; Heidelberg: Winter, 1967) 58; Charles Favez, L. Annaei Senecae Dialogorum liber XII Ad Helviam matrem de consolatione, texte latin publié avec une introduction et un commentaire explicatif (Lausanne and Paris: Payot, 1918) xlii-iii, 10. 44 E.g., Crantor according to Cic., Tusc. 3.16.12–13; Sen., Ad Marc. 6.1–2; Ad Poly. 2.1; 4.1; 18.5; Ep. 63.1; 77.12. There were, of course, the hardliners: Teles, frag. 7.56–7 Hense; Epict., Ench. 16. 45 Platonism is passed over no doubt because it never developed its own theory of consolation: Antiochus of Ascalon, followed by Plutarch and Calvenus Tarsus, sided with the Peripatetics, while Eudorus of Alexandria, followed by Albinus and Atticus, sided with the Stoics. Philo preferred the Stoic line, but did not stick to it all the time. See John M. Dillon, The Middle Platonists: A Study in Platonism, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220 (London: Duckworth, 1977) 44, 123–4, 146–8, 251–2, 299.
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great” and that they should therefore show moderation in their grief. Like the Stoics, the Peripatetics derived their theory of consolation from their doctrines of the soul, good and evil, and the passions. However, they differed from the Stoics in their interpretation of each of these central doctrines.46 First, they held that the soul was not unitary and rational, but partite with both rational and irrational elements. Second, they did not limit good and evil to virtue and vice but in general accepted conventional notions of good and evil, provided that the objects thus encompassed were not overvalued. And third, they held that grief, when based on an accurate assessment of value, was a proper and reasonable expression of the irrational part of the soul. Thus Peripatetic consolation had as its goal not the complete erasure of grief, the Stoic ideal of ajpavqeia, but its moderation, an ideal they expressed with the term metriopavqeia, “measured passion.” 47 It will come as no surprise that in treating death consolers found the Peripatetic ideal better suited to their task.48 The third view Cicero mentions is that of Epicurus. Unlike Stoic and Peripatetic theorists, Epicurus was constrained by his hedonism to take most conventional forms of evil at face value.49 For Epicurus, therefore, the consoler’s task was to distract the grieving person from his or her current misfortune to other more pleasurable memories. Cicero explains:50 He [Epicurus] places the alleviation of distress in two activities: calling the mind away from thinking about things that disturb us (avocatione a cogitanda molestia) and calling the mind back to the contemplation of pleasure (et revocatione ad contemplandas voluptates).
46 John M. Dillon, “Metriopatheia and Apatheia: Some Reflections on a Controversy in Later Greek Ethics,” in John P. Anton and Anthony Preus, eds., Essays in Ancient Philosophy II (Albany: SUNY, 1983, 508–517; Robert C. Gregg, Consolation Philosophy: Greek and Christian Paideia in Basil and the Two Gregories (PMS 3; Cambridge: Philadelphia Patristic Foundation, 1975) 81–123; Johann, Trauer und Trost, 41–50. 47 The Peripatetic mean lay between ajpavqeia, the inhumana duritia of the Stoics, and duspavqeia, the infinitus dolor of the unphilosophical masses; Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 102C-E; cf. Sen., Ad Helv. 16.1. For the excesses of popular lament, see Magaret Alexiou, The Ritual Lament in Greek Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974) 27–9; cf. Stat., Silv. 2.6.1–2 and Hor., Carm. 1.24.1–2. 48 The metriopathic ideal is articulated, among other places, at Pl., Menex. 247C-248C; Cic., Ad Att. 12.10; Ad fam. 5.18.2; Sen., Ad Marc.7.1–2; Ad Poly. 18.5–6; Ep. 63.1; 99.14–16. The motif became common in Christianity: Ambr., Ep. 39.8; Exc. Sat. 2.11; Paul. Nol., Ep. 13.10; Aug., Ep. 263.3; Bas., Ep. 28.1.62; Greg. Naz., Ep. 165.2; John Chrys., Ep. 197; Jer., Ep. 39.5.2, 6.4; 60.7.3 (cited by Scourfield, Consoling Heliodorus, 130–2). 49 He could not appeal to virtue as a supervening good, as did both the Stoics and the Peripatetics, since on his theory the virtues were of purely instrumental value. The texts are collected with commentary in Anthony A. Long and David N. Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers (2 vols.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987) 1:112–125 and 2:114–129. 50 Tusc. 3.15.33 (fragment 444 Usener); cf. 3.31.76; 5.26.73–74; Epicur., Sent. Vat. 55; Philod., Peri; qew`n 3 col. d (2) 23; Peri; qanavtou 38.21.
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And again in the words of Torquatus at De fin. 1.18.57: It lies within our power both to bury unpleasant experiences in a kind of perpetual forgetfulness and to recall positive experiences with pleasure and delight.
Epicurus’ technique was simple and versatile and proved popular with a broad range of intellectuals, who often modified its basic strategy of self-distraction to fit their own ideological preferences.51 Cicero last mentions Cyrenaic theory, according to which grief is caused not by misfortune as such but by misfortune that is unanticipated (inopinatus).52 Like the surprise attack of an enemy or a sudden storm at sea – two popular Cyrenaic analogies53 – misfortune overwhelms us when it catches us off guard, but not when we are prepared for it. To lessen the shock of misfortune Cyrenaics advocated the contemplation of future evils (praemeditatio futurorum malorum).54 For those already afflicted with grief, consolation lay in the knowledge that “nothing unexpected has happened” (nihil inopinati accidisse).55 Cicero does not find in Cyrenaic theory a complete account of grief, but he does agree that the element of surprise intensifies anguish, “for all sudden occurrences seem more serious.”56 Cyrenaic theory was obviously better suited to preventing grief than alleviating it.57 Nevertheless, the assumption that grief is 51 Cic., Tusc. 3.17.37; Ad fam. 4.13; cf. Servius Suplicius Rufus apud Cicero, Ad fam. 4.5 (with Cicero’s response at Ad fam. 4.6.2–3); Ps.-Ovid, Cons. ad Liv. 377–400 and 411–16; Sen., Ad Poly. 5–8 and 12–13; Ad Helv. 18–19; Ad Marc. 2.3–4; 4.3–5.6; 24.1–4; Ep. 63.4 ; 99.3–5; De ira 3.39.4; De brev. vit. 10.2ff.; De vit beat., 6.1–2; De benef. 3.4.1; Plut., De tran. an. 468F-469D; De ex. 600D; Ad ux. 608A-B; 610E; Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 116A-B; Pliny, Ep. 8.5.2; Jul., Or. 8.246C-E. In early Christian literature: Ambr., Ex frat. 1.3; Jer., Ep. 60.7.3; 108.1.2; 118.4.2; Bas., Ep. 5.2; 269.2; and Paul. Nol., Ep. 13.6; cf. Charles Favez, La consolation latine chrétienne (Paris: J. Vrin, 1937) 106–26. The so-called “apocalyptic cure” of 4 Ezra 7:16; 2 Bar. 81.4 also resembles this technique (discussed below). For a fuller discussion, with special reference to Paul, see my, “Bona Cogitare: An Epicurean Consolation in Phil 4:8–9,” HTR 91 (1998) 89–96. 52 Cf Tusc. 3.13.28: insperato et necopinato malo; Constantine Grollios, Ad Marciam: Tradition and Originality (Athens: Christou, 1956) 44–51. 53 Cf. Tusc. 3.52; cf. Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 112D; Sen., Ad Helv. 5.3; Ep, 47.4; De prov. 4.6, 13; De clem. 1.7.3; John Chrys., Ep. ad Olymp. 15.1 Malingrey. Cf. Malunowiczowna, “Les éléments stoïciens,” 39. 54 As a practical technique the praemediatio futuri mali extended well beyond Cyrenaic consolation theory. Diogenes of Sinope taught it (Diog. Laert. 6.63), as did Chrysippus (Cic., Tusc. 3.22.52); Panaetius (Plut., De coh. ir. 463D), Posidonius (Gal., De plac. 372.14), Carneades (Plut., De tran. an. 474E), Epictetus (Diss. 3.10.1ff.; Ench. 21), Seneca (Ad Helv. 5.3; De tran. an. 11.6); Plutarch (De tran. an. 465B); cf. Virg., Aen. 6.103–5. Grollios, Ad Marciam, 48–49; Kassel, Untersuchungen, 66; Johann, Trauer und Trost, 63–84; Paul Rabbow, Seelenführung: Methodik der Exerzitien in der Antike (Munich: Kösel-Verlag, 1954) 160–79; Abel, Bauformen, 37–8. 55 Cf. Tusc. 3.23.55; 3.31.76. 56 Tusc. 3.13.28; cf. 3.22.52ff. 57 Kassel, Untersuchungen, 66–7; cf. Epict., Diss. 3.24.115: tau'ta e[cwn ajei; ejn cersi; kai;
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due, at least in part, to the element of surprise is found in a number of consolations.58 I will say more about Cyrenaic consolation below in chapter 10 in my discussion of 1 Pet 4:12: mh; xenivzesqe … wJ~ xevnou uJmi'n sumbaivnonto~. In addition to these more technical philosophical strategies for consolation, it is possible to identify a number of popular consolatory arguments and techniques. 59 These grew up independently of specialized philosophical reflection and were used by philosophers and non-philosophers alike. Three popular arguments specific to death were: (1) grief does not benefit the dead; (2) the dead would not want us to grieve, and (3) death is gain.60 Other common arguments were: (4) time heals all grief; (5) grief is unhealthy; (6) grief accomplishes nothing; (7) others have suffered similar things; and (8) suffering refines or improves the sufferer.61 A number of these popular arguments, along with a few philosophical ones, will appear in Jewish consolation in the Hellenistic period, to which we now turn. We will meet with some of both types of argument in 1 Peter.
Jewish Consolation In Greco-Roman society the development of effective consolatory strategies was primarily the responsibility of the philosopher. 62 In Judaism, by contrast, consolation lay equally with the sage and the prophet and, with the emergence trivbwn aujto;~ para; sautw`/ kai; provceira poiw`n oujdevpote dehvsh/ tou' paramuqoumevnou, tou' ejpirrwnnuvnto~. 58 Ps.-Pl., Ax. 370A (cf. 364B); Ps.-Ov.,Cons. ad Liv., 397–400; Sen., Ad Marc. 9.2; Ad Helv. 5.3; Ad Poly. 11.1; Ep. 63.14; 107.4; cf. De vit. beat. 8.6; De brev. vit. 9.4; Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 112D; cf. Plut., De vir. mor. 449E; De tran. an. 476A, D. 59 For consolation in the rhetorical tradition, where many of these popular arguments appear, see Kassell, Untersuchungen, 40–8). Well before our period, however, orators began to look almost exclusively to philosophy for guidance on this difficult subject (cf. Dio Chrys., Or. 27.8–9). 60 Representative texts may be found in Evaristas, The Consolations of Death in Ancient Greek Literature and Mary E. Fern, The Latin Consolatio Mortis as a Literary Type (Saint Louis: University of Saint Louis, 1941). The last of these famously appears in Phil 1:21 (“for me to die is gain”); cf. D. W. Palmer, “‘To Die is Gain’ (Philippians i 21),” NovT 17 (1975) 203–18. 61 See, e.g., Johann, Trauer und Trost; Grollios, Tevcnh ajlupiva~; Schaeffer, Argumenta consolatoria. 62 Religion would also have been a source of personal consolation, though the relationship here between the private and the public remains a problem. According to Cicero the myteries allow the initiate to face death with a “better hope” (cum spe meliore moriende; De leg. 2.36; cf. Isocr, Panegyr. 28: th;n telethvn, h|~ oiJ metascovnte~ periv te th'~ tou' bivou teleuth'~ kai; tou' suvmpanto~ aijw`no~ hJdivou~ ta;~ ejlpivda~ e[cousin). Magic, if it can be distinguished from religion, was also a source of consolation: “Magic is the art that makes people who practice it feel better rather than worse, that provides the illusion of security to the insecure, the feeling
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of apocalypticism, with the seer. This led to three more or less distinct consolatory traditions, distinguished most obviously by their respective modes of knowing,63 but also, as we shall see, by the range of subjects each treated. In discussing Jewish consolation I will divide my comments among these three traditions.64 I will preface my comments with a brief discussion of Jewish social practices of mourning. This was the most common occasion on which consolation was offered and is a setting frequently evoked in literary consolations.65 Given the fact that Jewish consolation has yet to be studied in any detail,66 my remarks here will take the form of a necessarily preliminary historical survey. Mourning and Consolation in Judaism Mourning was a traditional ritual in ancient Judaism reflecting Near Eastern funerary custom dating from the second millennium b.c.e.67 The basic contours of the ritual are already evident in the Baal Cycle, where in the third episode first El and then Anat mourn the death of Baal. 68 At least five distinct elements may be identified: (1) sitting on the ground (in the case of El this includes com-
of help to the helpless, and the comfort of hope to the hopeless” (Hans D. Betz, The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation, Including the Demotic Spells [Vol. 1; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986], xlviii). 63 For a recent and important discussion, see Michael V. Fox, “The Epistomology of the Book of Proverbs,” JBL 126 (2007) 669–684. 64 The Psalms also contain a good deal of consolation and suggest that consolation was an important aspect of Jewish liturgy (cf. my discussion of the so-called Heilsorakel below). 65 Xuan Huong Thi Pham, Mourning in the Ancient Near East and the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup 302; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999). 66 Jewish consolation remains almost completely unexamined by modern scholars. Indeed, the only attempt at a general survey is a century-old series of popular lectures on the subject by Claude G. Montefiore, Ancient Jewish and Greek Encouragement and Consolation, now published with preface by S. D. Temkin (Bridgeport, Connecticut: Hartmore House, 1971). A recent welcome exception is Carol A. Newsom, “‘The Consolations of God’: Assessing Job’s Friends across a Cultural Abyss,” in J. Cheryl Exum and H. G. M. Williamson, eds., Reading from Right to Left (JSOTSup 373; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003) 347–358; see also, Gwen Sayler, “2 Baruch: A Story of Grief and Consolation,” SBL Seminar Papers 21 (1982) 485–500. Several consolatory inscriptions can be found in Pieter W. van der Horst, Ancient Jewish Epitaphs: An Introductory Survey of a Millennium of Jewish Funerary Epigraphy (300 BCE – 700CE) (CBET 2; Kampen: Kok Pharos, 1991). 67 The following analysis of Ancient Near Eastern mourning follows closely Pham, Mourning in the Ancient Near East and the Hebrew Bible, 16–24, who has taken more than a few points from Gary A. Anderson, A Time to Mourm, a Time to Dance: The Expression of Grief and Joy in Israelite Religion (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1990). 68 CTA 5.6.11–25; 5.6.31–6.1.8. English translation in Michael David Coogan, ed. and trans., Stories from Ancient Canaan (Louisville: Westminster, 1978) 108–9.
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ing down from his throne),69 (2) throwing dirt or ashes on one’s head,70 (3) disrobing and covering only one’s loins in sackcloth,71 (4) severely cutting one’s face and body,72 and (5) uttering a loud lament.73 Additional elements visible in other mourning texts include: (1) tearing one’s clothes before removing them,74 (2) cutting or tearing one’s hair or, if a man, one’s beard,75 (3) a period of intense mourning activity lasting up to seven days,76 (4) a period of ritualized silence, typically observed at the beginning of the mourning period, 77 and (5) a symbolic act such as a meal undertaken at the end of the mourning period signaling the mourner’s return to normal social relations. 78 Finally, and most importantly for our analysis, at some point in this process the mourner is joined by various friends and loved ones79 – and if required by the status of the deceased, by foreign dignitaries80 – who come to mourn with him or her and to offer words of consolation.81 69 Josh 7:6–7; Ezra 9:5–6; Job 1:21; 2:8; Isa 3:6; Jonah 3:6; 1 Macc 4:36–40; Jdt 4:11–12. For descending from a throne: Ezek 26:15–77; Jonah 3:6. 70 Josh 7:6; Job 2:12; 1 Sam 4:12; 2 Sam 13:19; Jdt 4:11–12. 71 For disrobing: 2 Sam 15:30; Isa 20:2–4; Ezek 24:17, 23; Jonah 3:6; for covering one’s loins with sackcloth: Gen 37:34; Job 2:12; 16:15; Jonah 3:5–6; Jdt 4:11–12. 72 Literary Prayer to Ishtar 147; cf. Job 2:8; Isa 32:12; Jer 16:6; 31:19; 41:5; Ezek 24:17; Hos 7:14; Nah 2:8. 73 Gen 37:35; 50:10; Josh 7:7–9; 2 Sam 13:19; Job 3:11–26. 74 Job 1:20; Gen 37.34; Josh 7:6; 1 Sam 4:12; 2 Sam 1:11; 2:1; 13:19; Ezra 9:3; Esth 4:1. 75 Agade 2.205 (J. S. Cooper, The Curse of Agade [Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1983] 59); Job 1:20; Isa 15:2; Jer 7:29; 41:5; Mic 1:16. 76 Gilg. frag. 2.8 (B. Meissner, Ein altbabylonisches Fragment des Gilgamosepos [MVAG 7.1; Berlin: Peiser, 1902]); Aqhat, CTA 17.1.16 (ANET 150); Agade 2.198–99 (Cooper, The Curse of Agade, 59); Harran Inscription of Nabonidus (ANET 562; cf. C. J. Gadd, “The Harran Inscription of Nabonidus,” AnSt 8 [1958] 35–92 [cited in Anderson, A Time to Mourn, 77]; cf. Gen 37:35; 50:10; 1 Sam 31:13 [1 Chron 10:12]; Jer 31:15; Jdt 16:24; Sir 22:12). For Sir 38:17 (“a day, two days”) see, Patrick W. Skehan and Alexander A. Di Lella, The Wisdom of Ben Sira (AB 39; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1987) 443. 77 Ezra 9:3–4; Job 2:13; Isa 23:2–3a; Ezek 26:17a; N. Lohfink, “Enthielten die im Alten Testament bezeugten Klageriten eine Phase des Schweigens?” VT 12 (1962) 260–77. 78 Meal: Gilg. frag. 3.6–8 Meissner; Job 42:11; Jer 16:7 (cf. Agade 2.209 for fasting); for the related expression “cup of consolation” ( μymwjnt swk), see Jer 16:7; cf. 2 Sam: 3:35; Job 12:11, to which should be comparted the Greek perivdeipnon (here see esp. Lucian, De luct. 24) and the Roman parentalia (Robert Garland, The Greek Way of Death [2nd ed.; Ithaca: Cornell Univesity Press, 2001] 36, 39–40, 146; J. M. C. Toynbee, Death and Burial in the Roman World [Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1971] 63–5, 97. Other acts of closure include: dance: Gilg. frag. 3.9 Meissner; bathing: Gilg. frag. 3.10–11 Meissner; attention to children: Gilg. frag. 3.12 Meissner; sex: Gilg. frag. 3.13–14 Meissner; Gen 24:67; 38:12–19; 2 Sam 12:24; 1 Chron 7:23; for a king, reascending the throne: Baal and Anath, CTA 6.3.18; Aqhat, CTA 17.2.13. 79 Pham, Mourning, 27–35. 80 P. Artzi, “Mourning in International Relations,” in B. Alster, ed., Death in Mesopotamia (Copenhagen Studies in Assyriology 8: Copenhagen: Akademisk, 1980) 161–70. For a case of mourning in international relations gone awry, see 2 Sam 10:1–3 (1 Chr 19:1–3). 81 This basic ritual is reflected in a number of places in the Hebrew Bible. Sometimes a more or less complete ritual is recounted (Gen 37:34–5; Isa 15:2–3; 32:11–12; Jer 14:5; Ezek
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The most common occasion for mourning (and therefore for consolation) was the death of a friend or loved one.82 But mourning was not limited to bereavement. At Josh 7:6 the Israelite general Joshua and the elders engage in mourning behavior after a military defeat at Ai: “Then Joshua tore his clothes and fell on the ground on his face before the ark of the Lord until evening, he and the elders of Israel; and they put dust on their heads.” At 2 Sam 13:19 the princess Tamar mourns her rape and rejection by Amnon: “But Tamar put ashes on her head and tore the long robe that she was wearing; she put her hand on her head and went away crying aloud as she went.” At Ezra 9:3 the chauvinist reformer Ezra mourns mixed marriages: “I tore my garment and my mantle, and pulled hair from my head and beard, and sat appalled.” Other calamities that called forth this ritual include: the loss of an important religious object, the death of a king or crown prince, the loss of property, physical illness, fear resulting from a harsh royal decree, and most famously the destruction of a city like Jerusalem.83 The role of “consolers” (μymjnm)84 is well illustrated by the story of Job, who after a series of terrific calamities is joined by three friends who come “to mourn with him and to console him” (wmjnlw wlÎdwnl).85 Their first task is to join Job in his mourning rites, which because of the greatness of Job’s suffering not only last the maximum time of seven days but are spent in complete silence: When they saw him from a distance, they did not recognize him, and they raised their voices and wept aloud; they tore their robes and threw dust in the air upon their heads. They sat with him on the ground for seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.
At the end of this period Job should have ceased his mourning and, in theory at least, returned to normal social intercourse. But he does not, and so his friends must now speak up. To their credit, they begin with more or less tra26:15–17) while at other times only one or two items are mentioned with others being implied (e.g. Joel 2:8); Pham, Mourning, 24–35. 82 Newsom, “‘The Consolations of God’.” 83 1 Sam 4:12; 2 Sam 1:11; 2 Chron 35:25; Job 1:20–21 (cf. m. ’Abot 4.9); Job 2:8 (cf. Psalms of Lament in general; Literary Hymn to Ishtar 28 Foster); Esth 4:1; GrEsth 15:8, 16; Lam 1 (cf. Sumerian laments on destruction of city). 84 2 Sam 10:3 (1 Chr 19:3); Isa 51:12; Nah 3:7; Ps 69:21; Job 16:2; Qoh. 4:1 (twice); Lam 1:2, 9, 16, 17, 21. 85 Job 2:21. It was the obligation of friends to share in another’s grief (Ps 35:13–14; Prov 17:17; Sir 7:34; cf. Rom 12:15; for classical parallels, see Walter T. Wilson, Let Love Be without Hypocrisy [WUNT 2.46: Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1991] 177–79). To suffer alone without the support of friends was considered particularly grievous (Lam 1:2a, 9, 21 and passim; The Poem of the Righteous Sufferer 1.83–93), and not to share in a friend’s mourning could be used to signify a breaking off of friendship (Jer 16:5–7; cf. Lam 1:2b). In contrast to friends who share in one’s mourning, enemies rejoice at one’s suffering, which makes it all the more intense (cf. Phil 1:17!), resulting in calls for vengeance (Lam 1:21–22). See further, Anderson, A Time to Mourn, 93–5.
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ditional consolation, what Eliphaz refers to broadly as the “consolations of God” (la twmjnt).86 But Job is unmoved by their words and rejects them as “wearisome consolers” (lm[ ymjnm).87 Gradually their consolation turns to rebuke and eventually to more or less philosophical arguments about the justice of God, increasingly a consolatory theme in emerging Judaism. 88 A more typical scene of mourning and consolation is envisaged in Isa 40:1–2.89 A personified Jerusalem is in mourning for her exiled children, when God instructs her consolers that it is time to speak up: “Comfort, O comfort (wmjn wmjn) my people, says your God. Speak to the heart of Jerusalem.” Unlike Job’s exasperated consolers, Jerusalem’s consolers are not to admonish or rebuke her, but to “speak to [her] heart” (blÎl[ wrbd), an idiom meaning to offer traditional words of encouragement and comfort.90 Consolation in the Jewish Wisdom Tradition Consolation is a significant theme in the Jewish wisdom tradition, where it typically takes the form of advice applicable to individuals in times of personal grief. Despite its alleged traditionalism, Jewish wisdom was remarkably responsive to the situations in which is was produced and promulgated. In the following survey I will limit my comments to the major texts: Proverbs, Job, Qohelet, Ben Sira, and Wisdom of Solomon.91 Proverbs. Proverbs is traditional Jewish wisdom at its most optimistic. It focuses on how to construct a happy life, not how to recover from a broken one, and it assumes that the person who follows wisdom will largely avoid grief and suffering.92 Consolation, therefore, is not a major theme in Proverbs. Nevertheless, several proverbs speak to the topic at least indirectly. It is part of Proverbs’ realism to admit that grief is a debilitating and ultimately lonely experience,93 and that no words can comfort those in the initial throws of grief.94 86
Job 15:11; cf. Newsom, “‘Consolations of God’.” Job16:2. 88 A similar case of excessive mourning met by frank admonition and philosophical argument can be found in Siduri’s consolation of Gilgamesh at frag. 3.1–14 Meissner; on the philosophical nature of Siduri’s consolation, see esp. Anderson, A Time to Mourn, 78–82. 89 Pham, Mourning, 31. 90 So, for example, the expression blÎl[ rbd appears in hendiadys with the verb μjn in Ruth 2:13 (blÎl[ trbd ykw yntmjn yk) and Gen 50:21 (μblÎl[ rbdyw μtwa μjnyw). 91 Other texts would include: Pseudo-Phocylides, Baruch, 4Q Wisdom Instruction, 4 Maccabees, and Avoth. 92 E.g., Prov 3:1–2: “My son, forget not my laws, but let your heart keep my words. For length of existence, and years of life and peace they shall add to you.” Contrast Job 9:22: “He destroys the blameless and the wicked alike”; Qoh 2:16: “the wise man and the fool die the same death.” (check NRSV). 93 Prov 12:25; 14:10; 15:13; 18:14. 94 Prov 25:20. 87
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The source of most grief is, predictably, a person’s own folly, but a wayward child is also grievous,95 as is poverty, which often leaves one friendless in times of sorrow.96 At the same time, children can be a source of joy for parents, and for grandparents in their old age.97 Likewise, friends are an asset in times of grief, so much so that a friend living close by is to be preferred to a family member living far away.98 Moderate grief can be helped by encouraging words,99 such as the thought that suffering can be viewed as the discipline of a loving God.100 But for those suffering intensely strong drink is more effective.101 The possibility of vengeance, a common source of comfort in the prophetic tradition,102 is also a comforting thought, though the act of revenge itself is to be left to God.103 Job. Consolation plays a much more significant role in Job. I have already noted the friends’ attempt to support Job by participating in his period of silent mourning.104 Here I am interested in their subsequent consolatory arguments, virtually all of which are introduced in nuce in Eliphaz’s first speech in chapters 4–5. They are traditional topoi, which Job will of course reject as useless platitudes.105 The more important of these are: (1) that Job has consoled others and should now accept consolation himself (4:1–5; 5:27), (2) that God delivers the upright and that therefore Job may trust God to save him (4:6–11), (3) that sinful humans should never complain against God (4:12–21), (4) that excessive grief does no good and is harmful to the mourner (5:1–5), (5) that suffering is given to humanity by God (5:6–7), (6) that no calamity is too great for God to set it right (5:8–16), and finally (7) that suffering is a test and that Job should not “despise the discipline of the Almighty (5:17–26).106 95
Prov 10:1; 17:25. Prov 15:15; 19:4. 97 For parents: Prov 10:1; 15:20; 23:15, 16, 24, 25; for grandparents: Prov 17:6. 98 Prov 17:17; 27:6, 10. 99 Prov 12:25; 16:24; 17:22. 100 Prov 3:11–12; cf. Job 5:17; Sir 6:18–37. This comforting perspective on suffering will appear in 1 Pet 1:6–7. 101 Prov 31:6–7; cf. Gen 5:29; Qoh 9:7; 10:19. In excess, however, wine becomes a source of sorrow (Prov 20:1; 23:29–30). 102 Discussed at length by Montefiore, Ancient Jewish and Greek Encouragement and Consolation. 103 Prov 20:22. 104 Cf. Prov 25:20. 105 Job 16:1–2: “The Job answered: ‘I have heard many such things; miserable comforters are you all (μklk lm[ ymjnm twbr hlak yt[mv)!’” 106 Job responds to Eliphaz in chs. 6–7, where he reviews these and other traditional arguments. His concern, of course, is to deny their efficacy. Eliphaz has urged Job to hope in God, promising that God will save him in the end. But Job argues that hope is no comfort to one who has reached the limit of human endurance (6:11–13); only death can console Job now (ytmjn dw[ yhtw), but God has denied Job even that way out (6:8–10; Job will later argue in 7:13–15 that short of death sleep is a temporary consolation (ycr[ ynmjnt; 7:13), but that God has taken that too.). Job allows that faithful friends can be a source of comfort and that it pays to 96
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Job’s other friends continue along these same lines, adding only a few new consolatory topics here and there. Bildad, for instance, promises that Job will see God’s vengeance on his detractors (8:20–22).107 Zophar claims that things could be worse and that God is exacting from Job less than he deserves (11:6).108 Ultimately, however, Job’s consolation hinges on the question of theodicy, which is no doubt a reflection of the post-exilic times in which Job was composed. It is a problem already addressed as a consolatory topic in Ezek 14:22–23: you will be consoled for the evil that I have brought upon Jerusalem … , and you will know that it was not without cause that I have done all that I have done in it, says the Lord God
Ezekiel foresees that consolation over the destruction of Jerusalem will only finally come when God’s action in the matter has been satisfactorily explained. Similarly, Job insists that he will never be able return to life as usual until his questions regarding the justice of God have been answered.109 Not surprisingly, Job’s friends cannot supply this answer, and the book’s deus ex machina ending does little to remedy this.110 Qohelet. Job’s insistence that death radically undermines all efforts to answer the problem of human suffering is taken up by the author of Qohelet. Writing in the early Hellenistic period when death is becoming a serious philosophical problem111 and the possibility of life after death is being vetted in emergent apocalypticism,112 the author of Qohelet holds firm to the traditional view that death marks the end of human existence and puzzles out what meaning if
listen to their advice, even their rebukes (cf. 6:25); but his friends have been unfaithful and have all but abandoned him with platitudes and assumptions (6:14–30). Job also agrees with Eliphaz that suffering is the human lot; but that being the case, why, he asks, must God afflict those who are already in the throws of despair (7:1–10)? Finally, he agrees the humans live and die as nothing in the eyes of God; but again that being the case, why, he asks, does God bother to test those who will soon pass away (7:11–21)? Job thus takes seriously the limitations of human existence and in particular the finality of death, in the face of which traditional consolation of the sort his friends have to offer loses its power. 107 Vengeance is a major theme in the prophetic and apocalyptic traditions (see below). 108 Cf. 2 Bar. 78.5; 79.3; contrast Isa 40:2 (Jerusalem has now paid “double” for her sins). 109 With Job the question of God’s justice, originally a national concern, is applied to the fate of the individual. 110 The reader, of course, has known all along that God was “just showing off to the Devil” (John J. Collins, Introduction to the Hebrew Bible [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2004] 515, quoting Robert Frost). 111 Shannon Burkes, God, Self, and Death: The Shape of Religious Transformation in the Second Temple Period (JSJSup 79; Leiden: Brill, 2003); cf. James L. Crenshaw, “The Shadow of Death in Qoheleth,” in John G. Gammie, ed., Israelite Wisdom: Theological and Literary Essays in Honor of Samuel Terrien. (New York: Scholars Press for Union Theological Seminary, 1978) 205–16; John J. Collins, “The Root of Immortality: Death in the Context of Jewish Wisdom,” HTR 71 (1978) 177–92. 112 Thomas Krüger, Qohelet: A Commentary (Hermeneia: Philadelphia: Fortress, 2004) 19–27.
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any can be found in this life alone.113 His answer is that death does indeed render the struggles of human existence meaningless,114 but that this does not keep one from enjoying life for what it is.115 This discovery116 has direct bearing on consolation, since according Qohelet the quest for meaning in all forms is a source of grief.117 The author of Qohelet agrees with Proverbs that folly leads to grief, but he insists that this is ultimately true also of wisdom itself,118 not to mention other traditional sources of happiness such as wealth,119 reputation,120 or even pleasure.121 The solution is to accept the uncertainties and injustices of life and its radical termination in death and to find consolation in its various activities and pleasures, uncertain though they may be, precisely as the gifts of God.122 Beyond that, one should steel oneself against calamity so as not to be shocked by it,123 keeping in mind also that though one does not know when calamity might strike,124 neither does one know whether one might be suddenly advantaged.125 113 Qoh 3:21; see the discussion in Martin Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism (2 vols.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1974) 1:124–25; Ludger Schwienhorst-Schönberger, “Nicht im Menschen gründet das Glück” (Koh 2.24): Kohelet in Spannungsfeld jüdischer Weisheit und hellenistischer Philosophie (HBS 2; Freiburg: Herder, 1994) 120. 114 Qoh 1:2; 12:8: lbh lkh μylbh lbh. 115 Qoh 8:15; 9:7–9. 116 The wisdom of Qohelet is presented as a series of findings empirically discovered through personal research and observation. Thus unlike Proverbs and the wisdom of Job’s friends, Qohelet is not traditional wisdom. 117 Thus: s[k; Qoh 1:18; 2:23; 11:10; bwakm; 1:18; 2:23; for Qohelet as coping with grief, see Daniel C. Fredericks, Coping with Transcience: Ecclesiastes on Brevity in Life (Biblical Seminar 18; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1993. 118 Qoh 1:18; contrast Wisd 8:9 where wisdom is paraivnesi~ frontivdwn kai; luvph~. 119 Wealth, too, a traditional source of comfort, can also become a source of vexation, since those who actively pursue wealth never seem to enjoy it (5:10; 6:1), are constantly worried that they will lose it (5:13–14), and in the end die and leave it to others who may foolishly squander it (2:18). 120 Reputation is equally vexing, as are other quests for immortality, such as children, since one’s memory is quickly lost (1:11; 2:16; 9:5). 121 Pleasure, if actively pursued is also grievous, since one makes many sacrifices in the pursuit of pleasure and in the end is never truly be satisfied (2:1–11). 122 Qoh 2:24; 3:12–13, 32; 5:18–20; 7:14. These tradition goods include marriage, children, friends, wine and food, and sleep. One can even enjoy one’s work, as long as no transcendental goals are imposed upon it. Wisdom and righteousness too should be pursued, but only as relative goals instrumental to living a good life (2:13–14a; cf. 7:16–17). 123 Qoh 5:8. 124 Qoh 9:12. 125 Qoh 7:14; cf. 11:6; Sir 11:21 (a traditonal Greco-Roman topos on the unpredictability of fate). Further consolatory topoi include: (1) though poverty indeed makes life hard, the one having to toil for a living can find temporary comfort in sleep (5:12), and those severely oppressed can at least look forward to death (4:1–3); (2) that the generous can have reasonable hope of support from others in times of trouble (4:10; 11:1–2); and (3) that the eventual pains of old age can be at least in part compensated for by reasonable pleasure-making in one’s youth (11:9).
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Wisdom of Ben Sira. Ben Sira wrote in Jerusalem in the early second century b.c.e.126 He was a traditionalist who among other things wanted to recover the moral and intellectual optimism of Proverbs while at the same time facing squarely the problem of death raised by Job and acknowledged by Qohelet.127 Consolation had an important place in his thinking, and he treats it in three extended reflections at 30:21–24; 38:16–23; and 40:1–41:13, as well as in several separate maxims.128 In keeping with traditional ritual, he allows the customary mourning period of seven days (22:12). But he advises that intense mourning be kept to a maximum of two days (38:17):129 Let your weeping be bitter and your wailing fervent; make your mourning worthy of the departed, for one day, or two, to avoid criticism; then be comforted in your grief.
To aid in quick recovery he offers a range of consolatory arguments, which not surprisingly show a clear Hellenistic influence.130 They include: (1) that grief accomplishes nothing (30:23), (2) that grief is harmful to the mourner (38:18), (3) that excessive grief derives from “resentment and anger” (30:24), (4) that death is common to all (38:22), and (5) that death is not to be feared since there is no judgment in Sheol (41:4). 131 The last of these almost certainly derives from contemporary Epicureanism,132 as does the recommendation at 14:16 and 30:23 that 126
See his description of the high priest Simon (219–196 b.c.e.) at 50:1–24. Victor Tcherikover, Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews (New York: Jewish Publication Society, 1959) 143–44; Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism, 1:138. Ben Sira famously bolsters his “traditionalism” with the claim that Torah was the embodiment of wisdom (24:23). 128 It is common to divide Ben Sira at the Hymn to Wisdom in chapter 24, with chs. 1–23 being devoted to short, proverb-like practical instruction, and chs. 24–43 to longer, more theologically focused reflections, to which the so-called Praise of the Fathers is appended in chs. 44–50, with two additional wisdom poems in 51; see the discussion in Skehan and Di Lella, The Wisdom of Ben Sira. 129 See the comments of Skehan and DiLella, Wisdom of Ben Sira, 443. 130 Ben Sira was influenced on a number of points by the cosmopolitan social mores of his time: Oda Wischmeyer, Die Kultur des Buches Jesus Sirach (BZNW 77; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1995); John J. Collins, Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1997) 23–41. He was influenced somewhat less so by contemporary Hellenistic intellectual culture: Theophil Middendorp, Die Stellung Jesu Ben Siras zwischen Judentum und Hellenismus (Leiden: Brill, 1973), and more judiciously, David Winston, “Theodicy in Ben Sira and Stoic Philosophy,” in Ruth Link-Salinger, ed., Of Scholars, Savants, and Their Texts (New York: Lang, 1989) 239–49; Hans Volker Kieweler, Ben Sira zwischen Judentum und Hellenismus (Frankfurt: Lang, 1992). 131 Other arguments include: (1) that the success of the wicked is only apparent (40:12–17; 41:5–10); (2) that the blessings of the wise are many and lasting (40:18–27); and (3) that even extreme poverty is bearable since the destitute can anticipate relief in death (41:1). 132 Epicur., Ep. ad Men. 125: oJ qavnato~ oujqe;n pro;~ hJma'~ (cf. KD 2); Lucr., 3.830: nil igitur mors est ad nos; see further, Traudel Stork, Nil igitur mors est ad nos: Der Schlussteil des dritten Lukrezbuches und sein Verhältnis zur Konsolationsliteratur (Bonn: Rudolf Habelt, 1970); David J. Furley, “Nothing to us?” in Malcolm Schofield and Gisela Striker, eds., The Norms of Nature: Studies in Hellenistic Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986) 75–91; cf. Collins, Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age, 93 127
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a person overcome by grief should distract himself or herself – literally, “beguile your mind” (˚vpn tp)133 – with the pleasures of food and friendship.134 Wisdom of Solomon. The Wisdom of Solomon is a product of Alexandrian Judaism and was composed in good Greek in the early Roman period.135 It takes the form of an extended exhortation or lovgo~ protreptikov~ to the “judges of the earth,”136 ostensibly urging them to align themselves with the wisdom of the Jewish god, which wisdom pervades the cosmos and brings immortality to those who seek it.137 It is highly doubtful, however, that the Wisdom of Solomon was actually intended to be an instructional tract to Roman governors.138 More likely, it served “to give comfort and encouragement” to the Jewish community in Alexandria,139 by assuring them that their god was the true power at work in the cosmos and that present injustices notwithstanding “the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God” (dikaivwn de; yucai; ejn ceiri; qeouv), and “their hope is full of immortality” (hJ ejlpi;~ aujtw`n ajqanasiva~ plhvrh~).140 133 The Hebrew of Sir 30:23 according to Geniza MS B (P. C. Beentjes, The Book of Ben Sira in Hebrew [VTSup 68; Leiden: Brill, 1997] 54–55), which the Greek translates: ajpavta th;n yuch;n sou. This was problematic for later copyists, who not knowing what to make of ajpavta wrote ajgavpa (B-S* A 248 a-534, 157c 404 543 575 753 read ajgavpa [Lat misere], though ajpavta [S2 C V O L l b c min] is clearly the lectio difficilior and therefore the better reading, as Joseph Ziegler, Sapientia Iesu Filii Sirach [2nd ed.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1980] 268, has correctly noted; cf. 14:16: do;~ kai; lavbe kai; ajpavthson th;n yuchvn sou, o{ti oujk e[stin ejn a{/dou zhth'sai trufhvn, where similar textual corruption occurs). 134 Compare the Epicurean strategy of consolation by distraction (avocatio), for which the relevant texts are: Epicur., Sent. Vat. 55; Philodem., Peri; qew`n 3 col. d (2) 23; Peri; qanavtou 38.21; Cic., De fin. 2.30.96 (Epicurus to Hermarchus); Diog. Laert. 10.22 (Epicurus to Idomeneus); cf. Cic., Tusc. 3.15.33; 16.35; 31.76; De fin. 1.18.57; Sen., Ad Marc. 2.3–4; 4.3–5.6; 24.1–4; Ad Poly. 5.4–5; 6.1–5; 7.1–4; 8.1–4; 11.5–6; 13.3–4; Ad Helv. 18.1–19.7; Ps.-Ov., Cons. ad Liv. 377–400, 411–16; Plut., Ad ux. 608A-B; 610E; De ex. 600D; Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 116A-B; Plin., Ep. 8.5.2; Ps.-Phalar., Ep. 103.1–2; Jul., Or. 8.246C-248D; but esp. Sen., Ad Helv. 17.1–2 where as in Ben Sira the technique is said to be a “beguiling” (deludere) or “deceiving” (decipere) of the mind. For a full discussion, see Paul A. Holloway, “‘Beguile your soul’ (Sir xiv 16; xxx 23): An Epicurean Theme in Ben Sira,” VT 58 (2008) 1–16. 135 David Winston, The Wisdom of Solomon (AB 43; New York: Doubleday, 1979) 20–25. 136 Wisd. 1:1: oiJ krivnonte~ th;n ghvn; cf. 6:1: ajkouvsate ou\n, basilei'~, kai; suvnete: mavqete, dikastai; peravtwn gh'~: ejnwtivsasqe, oiJ kratou'nte~ plhvqou~ kai; gegaurwmevnoi ejpi; o[cloi~ ejqnw`n ktl; 6:9: pro;~ uJma'~ ou\n, w\ tyvrannoi, oiJ lovgoi mou, i{na mavqhte sofivan kai; mh; parapevshte. 137 James M. Reese, Hellenistic Influence on the Book of Wisdom and its Consequences (AnBib 41; Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1970) 117–21. 138 Victor Tcherikover, “Jewish Apologetic Literature Reconsidered,” Eos 48 (1956) 169–93; and more generally, Martin Goodman, Mission and Conversion (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994). 139 John M. G. Barclay, Jews in the Mediterranean Diaspora: From Alexander to Trajan (323 B C E to 117 C E) (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996) 185: “to give comfort and encouragement to the oppressed.” 140 Wisd 3:1, 4. Based on the theme of the persecution of the righteous in chs 2–5, Winston, Wisdom of Solomon, 23–5, has argued reasonably if not conclusively that the immediate occasion for the Wisdom of Solomon was the Jewish pogrom in Alexandria during the reign
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As in Job and to a lesser degree in Ben Sira,141 theodicy is an important consolatory theme in the Wisdom of Solomon. Unlike Job and Ben Sira, however, the Wisdom of Solomon allows for life after death, with the result that God’s justice is not limited to the here and now but can be accomplished, and indeed typically is accomplished, even after a person’s physical life is over.142 This in turn gives almost free reign to the traditional prophetic theme of the reward of the righteous and the punishment of their oppressors,143 which is a central consolatory topos in the Wisdom of Solomon.144 Other consolatory topoi in the Wisdom of Solomon include: (1) the hope that God will preserve the righteous in his or her righteousness in preparation for the life to come;145 (2) the related hope that God will give inner peace and sustenance to the righteous in death;146 (3) belief that the suffering of the righteous is testing in preparation for the life of Caligula. This is an attractive thesis for our purposes, since it finds in the Wisdom of Solomon a situation similar to 1 Peter, namely, social prejudice leading to physical violence. Unlike 1 Peter, however, the Wisdom of Solomon does not offer practical advice on how to cope with prejudice and its outcomes, but only comfort for those targeted for abuse. 141 Cf. the assurance that God will repay the wicked, even if justice must wait until the moment of death (Sir 11:25–8); more generally, James L. Crenshaw, “The Problem of Theodicy in Sirach: On Human Bondage,” JBL 94 (1975) 47–64. 142 Here note especially the so-called “book of eschatology” in Wisd 1:1–6:21, where the suffering righteous are assured that there is life after death and that God will sustain them in death and vindicate them in the life to come. This book begins with a lengthy prologue in which the kings of the earth are exhorted to seek righteousness (1:1–15) and ends with an equally substantial epilogue in which this exhortation is repeated (6:1–21). Between these lies the middle portion of the “book,” which aims to substantiate these exhortations by way of a short drama played out in three parts between a group of socially powerful unrighteous people and a socially marginalized righteous person – it is tempting to see the unrighteous in as the Alexandrian Greeks and Egyptians, the righteous as the Jews, and the kings of the earth as their mutual overlords, the Romans. The unrighteous speak in part one (1:16–2:24): they are offended by the ways of the righteous person and successfully plot his or her cruel demise (cf. 1 Pet 4:3–4). But things are not as they seem, for unbeknownst to the unrighteous, God stands by the righteous person, who in part two (3:1–4:19) dies in peace and is rewarded in the next life. Finally, in part three (4:20–5:23) the unrighteous themselves eventually die and are “in anguish” to see that there is life after death and that God has rewarded the righteous person and will now judge them. The consolation provided by this story is clear: even though it does not seem so at the moment, God is on the side of the righteous and will sustain them in this life and vindicate them in the life to come. 143 I discuss this theme below. 144 We shall see below that vengeance is a major consolation in the prophetic tradition, but there it is typically at the level of international relations and is, of course, limited to history. One could say that death is in a sense transcended in that justice is visited on a future generation after the death of the afflicted, but even then it is at the level of the group whose identity continues beyond a single generation. Justice is accomplished by variously rewarding and punishing future generations of the groups in question. 145 Wisd 3:9; 4:17 (eij~ tiv hjsqalivsato aujto;n oJ kuvrio~); cf. Pet 1:5: tou;~ ejn dunavmei qeou' frouroumevnou~. See the discussion of this topos below under apocalyptic consolation. 146 Wisd 3:2–3: e[doxan ejn ojfqalmoi'~ ajfrovnwn teqnavnai, kai; ejlogivsqh kavkwsi~ hJ e[xodo~ aujtw`n, kai; hJ ajf j hJmw`n poreiva suvntrimma, oiJ de; [divkaioi] eijsin ejn eijrhvnh/.
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to come,147 (4) the idea that the early death of the righteous signals their early perfection and actually removes them from the evils and temptations of this life,148 and finally (5) the related claim that it is not length of life that matters so much as it is the quality of life lived in preparation for future reward.149 Consolation in the Jewish Prophetic Tradition Consolation appears in the prophetic tradition in response to national crises:150 most notably the Assyrian invasion resulting in the destruction of Samaria in 722 b.c.e., followed by the severe reduction of Judah in 701, and the Babylonian invasions culminating in the destruction of Jerusalem in 586. A third more chronic crisis was the lingering problems and disappointments associated with the return of the Jerusalem elites from Babylon after the fall of the latter to the Persians in 539.151 I will organize my discussion of prophetic consolation around these three crises. It will quickly become obvious that consolation in the prophetic tradition differs from consolation in the wisdom tradition in at least two significant ways: (1) that whereas the sage advises the individual on matters of personal loss, the prophet addresses the nation or its representative on matters of national calamity,152 and (2) that whereas consolation in the wisdom tradition typically lies with the mourner who must personally adjust to unalterable circumstances, prophetic consolation generally lies with God who promises to act to change the circumstances themselves – though of course in the meantime the hearers must make an effort to believe these promises.153 Prophetic Consolation in the Assyrian Period. The prophetic response to the Assyrian menace is preserved in the authentic oracles of Amos, Hosea, Isaiah, 147 Wisd 3:5–6; 11:8–10; 12:20–22; 16:3–6, 11; 18:20; 2 Macc 6:12–16; 7:33 (cf. Job 5:17; Sir 2:1–5; 4:17; 18:13–14; 32:14). This is a major theme in emerging apocalyptic thought; cf. 1 Pet 4:17; 5:10. 148 Wisd 4:11–14; for the related Hellenistic and Roman topos of mors immatura, see E. Griessmair, Das Motiv der Mors Immatura in den greichischen metrischen Grabinschriften (Innsbruck: Universitätsverlag, 1966); Vérilhac, Pai'de" a[wroi Garland, The Greek Way of Death, 77–88. In Jewish funerary inscriptions, see van der Horst, Ancient Jewish Epitaphs, 45–9. 149 Wisd 4:7–19. 150 Already noted by Max Weber, The Sociology of Religion (Boston: Beacon Press, 1963) 51. For the response to the crisis of 70 C.E., see Martin Goodman, “Diaspora Reactions to the Destruction of the Temple,” in James D. G. Dunn, ed., Jews and Christians: The Parting of the Way (WUNT 66; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 1992). 151 Robert P. Carroll, When Prophecy Failed : Reactions and Responses to Failure in the Old Testsament Prophetic Traditions (London: SCM Press, 1079) 157–83 is seminal. 152 In certain post-exilic texts, of course, the nation is replaced by the “remnant.” 153 This distinction is not absolute. Wisdom topoi play a minor role in prophetic consolation, while in the wisdom tradition the actions of God as always in the background; note especially the later wisdom texts such as the Wisdom of Solomon (e.g. Wisd 10–19; cf. 3:1–5:23).
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Micah, Zephaniah, and in the anti-Assyrian taunt songs of Nahum. Both Amos and Hosea, who prophesied in the face of the Assyrian threat, predicted the destruction of the northern kingdom of Israel: Amos for the sin of injustice, Hosea for idolatry. A prophet from the southern kingdom of Judah, Amos predicted a coming “Day of Yahweh”154 that Israel would not survive: “Fallen no more to rise is maiden Israel” (5:2).155 He offered so consolation. The northern prophet Hosea similarly prophesied destruction, but at some point – perhaps after the initial Assyrian invasion in 730 which left Samaria intact – he began to entertain the hope of the nation’s repentance and survival.156 Hosea’s hopes were proven false in 722 when Shalmaneser V destroyed Samaria and deported its population, effectively ending the northern kingdom.157 Isaiah of Jerusalem prophesied in the southern kingdom of Judah during the last third of the eight century.158 Like Amos, Isaiah along with his younger contemporary Micah of Moresheth was deeply offended by the social injustices of his day, which he believed Yahweh would severely punish. Like Hosea, however, he does not seem to have imagined complete destruction. At the center of Isaiah’s optimism, such as it was, lay an expansive theological vision of Yahweh that has obviously been constructed to answer the unprecedented power of the
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Amos 5:18–20; 8:9–14; cf. Isa 13:9–13; Zeph 1:7, 14–16; 2:2; Joel 2:1–2. There is little by way of consolation in Amos, except perhaps the fact that he makes sense religiously out of the deteriorating geopolitical situation. One of the fundamental functions of religious coping is to make sense of a hostile or threatening situation. R. Ruard Ganzevo, “Religious Coping Reconsidered. Part 1. An Integrated Approach,” Journal of Psychology and Theology 26.3 (1998) 260–275; Kenneth I. Pargament, “God help me; Toward a Theoretical Framework of Coping for the Psychology of Religion” in M.L. Lynn and D.O. Moberg, eds., Research in the Social Scientific Study of Religion vol. 2 (Greenwich, CT: JAI Press, 1990) 195–224; idem, The Psychology of Religion and Coping: Theory, Research, Practice (New York: The Guilford Press, 1997). 156 Many of the oracles of salvation in Hosea are later additions (e.g., 2:16–20 [MT 18–22], 21–23 [MT 23–25]; 14:9 [MT 10]). Several, however, appear to be authentic (2:14–15: ; 11:1–11; 14:1–8 [MT 14:2–9]), indicating that Hosea was not as consistently negative as Amos. Hosea sought to justify his optimism with an appeal (1) to Yahweh’s divine constancy: “I am God and no mortal, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath” (11:9), and (2) to the essentially unmerited nature of Yahweh’s love for his people: “I will love them freely” (hbdn μbha; 14:4 [MT 14:5]),” both of which themes become important topoi in subsequent consolation. 157 After the fall of Samaria the prophecies of Amos and Hosea were preserved in a Judean edition (Judean additions to Amos include: 1:1–2; 2:4–5, 9–12; 3:7; 6:1, 5; to Hosea: 1:7, 10–11; 3:5; 4:15) and then in post-exilic versions that incorporated new oracles of salvation (Amos 2:9–10, 11–12; 9:8b-15; Hos 2:16–20 [MT 18–22], 21–23 [MT 23–25]; 14:9 [MT 10]). 158 The biblical book that bears Isaiah’s name has gone through numerous editions making his original thoughts extremely difficult to recover, though most scholars agree that they are concentrated in chs. 1–12 and 28–33. The core of chs. 28–33 are the woe oracles of 28:1–4; 29:1–4, 15–16; 30:1–5; 31:1–4; and 33:1, which most likely date from the Palestinian campaign of Sennacherib in 701. 155
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Assyrian empire: “The whole earth is full of [Yahweh’s] glory” (6:3).159 This in turn yielded two important consolatory topoi: (1) that foreign empires such as Assyria were simply instruments in Yahweh’s hand to discipline his unrighteous people: “Assyria, rod of my anger, the stick in their hand is the rod of my fury” (10:5), and (2) that when Yahweh’s discipline was over, he would avenge his people: “When you have finished your destroying you yourself will be destroyed.”160 Nowhere is the hope of divine vengeance more in evidence than in the oracles and taunt songs attributed to the otherwise unknown prophet Nahum,161 whose songs celebrate the fall of Nineveh in 612 as “glad tidings” (1:15 [MT 2:1]), a term that appears again in Second Isaiah with the destruction of Babylon, another imperial oppressor (Isa 40:9). Zephaniah, whose oracles date from the early reign of Josiah before the so-called Deuteronomic reforms, echoes the preaching of Amos about the coming “Day of Yahweh,” but introduces the hope that at least some of “the humble of the land” may be preserved in this time of wrath.162 Prophetic Consolation and the Babylonian Period. The prophetic response to the rise of Babylon and the eventual conquest and destruction of Jerusalem can be found in books of Habakkuk, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Second Isaiah.163 Habakkuk was active after the crushing death of Josiah at the hand of Pharaoh Neco at Megiddo in 609 b.c.e., most probably during the reign of the Egyptian 159 Yahweh is actively involved in the events of geopolitical history: they are his “work” (hc[m; Isa 5:12 19; 28:21; hdb[; Isa 28:21) and follow his “plan” (hx[; 5:19; 28:29; 30:1). 160 Isa 33:1; cf. 10:7, 15–16. A powerful consolatory argument that similarly traded on the alleged sovereignty of Yahweh, was the claim that Jerusalem as the location of Yahweh’s temple was unable to be conquered: “Is not Yahweh in our midst? Disaster shall not come upon us” (thus the so-called prophets of peace in Mic 3:11; cf. 2:6–7; Micah caricatures the bucolic predictions of these prophets in 2:11: “I will preach to you of wine and strong drink!”). This argument would have been especially apropos after the fall of Samaria in 722, since it explains why Jerusalem did not fall even though Samaria did. The argument appears again in Jeremiah’s day (Jer 7:4) in advance of the Babylonian army, where it was decisively refuted. 161 It is tempting to see in the name “Nahum” an ideal figure, someone “comforted” (μwjn) at the fall of Nineveh, especially since both the prophet and his place of origin (Elkosh) remain a mystery. The temptation should probably be resisted, however, since the name Nahum is well attested in NW Semitic. See Keven J. Cathcart, “More Philological Studies in Nahum,” JSNL 7 (1979) 1–12. The precise dating of Nahum is difficult. He prophesies after the fall of Thebes in 663 (3:8–10), and probably after the death of the last great Assyrian king Assurbanipal in 627 and the ascendancy of the Babylonian Nabopolassar in 625. The fall of Nineveh could have easily been predicted by 614, when the Assyrian capital Asshur fell. 162 Zeph 2:3: hwhyAπa μwyb wrtst ylwa. This theme of preservation will, of course, become prominent in post-Exilic prophecy and in emerging apocalypticism, on which see below. 163 Obadiah should also be mentioned, though his oracles focus narrowly on the destruction of Edom, which aided the Babylonians in the destruction of Jerusalem (cf. Ps 137:7; Lam 4:21; Ezek 35:5–6).
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puppet Jehoiakim.164 He writes in advance of the increasing Babylonian threat that would result in the fall of Jerusalem in 597 and its destruction in 586.165 He is grieved by the injustices he perceives, first in Jehoiakim’s Jerusalem (1:2–4), and then in the looming Babylonian invasion, which he naturally interprets as divine judgment (1:12–2:1). Habakkuk is offered two consolations. The first is a vision that is nolonger preserved but regarding which he is instructed to have “faith” (2:4) and to “wait” for its fulfillment even “if it seems to tarry” (2:3).166 The second is the by this time familiar promise of divine vengeance (2:5–20).167 Jeremiah is alleged to have been active from the thirteenth year of the reign of Josiah (627) to the fall of Jerusalem in 597.168 An ardent supporter of the “reforms” of Josiah, Jeremiah was permanently alienated by Jehoiakim’s reversal of these and seems to have consistently preached “war, famine, and pestilence,”169 which he claimed was and always had been the message of a true prophet of God. There is little by way of consolation in his authentic oracles apart from his prediction of the destruction of Babylon.170 He may have added an element of hope to his message after the fall of Jerusalem in 597.171 164 In 1:2–4 he complains of the injustices in Jerusalem, probably referring to the acts of Jehoiakim whose acts of oppression and violence were well known (Jer 22:13–19; 26:1–24). 165 Habakkuk is told that the Chaldeans (Babylonians) will be God’s instrument of judgment on Jerusalem, to which Habakkuk responds that they are worse than Jehoiakim (cf. Jer 25:1–14). 166 The vision is nolonger preserved though Habakkuk was commanded to record it: “Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so that a runner may read it” (2:2). Perhaps the vision was eventually discarded because it did not come true. Two additional consolatory topoi appear in Hab 2:5: (1) that “wealth is treacherous” and (2) that “the arrogant do not endure.” 167 The book ends in 3:1–19 with a psalm attributed to Habakkuk as a “prayer.” It is probably intended to represent Habakkuk’s trusting response to the missing vision, which it may partially recount. If this is correct then the vision would have been of both the saving and avenging might of Yahweh: “In fury you trod the earth, in anger you trampled nations. You came forth to save your people!” 168 So Jer 1:1. However, among his surviving oracles the earliest ones datable are from the reign of Jehoiakim. Some scholars think that he prophesied the restoration of the Northern tribes during the time of Josiah (oracles preserved now in Jer 30–31), but this is far from certain. 169 Jer 28:8; cf. his criticism of prophets of peace at 6:14 and 8:11. This is an important text for understanding the history of prophecy in Israel. Among other things it implies that preexilic prophets were known to Jeremiah to have been essentially prophets of judgment, indicating that the sometimes positive elements found at the end of their oracle collections were later additions. 170 He is reported to have written “on a scroll all the disasters that would come on Babylon,” which he gave to his scribe Baruch’s brother Seraiah to throw into the Euphrates as a sign that Babyon would likewise “sink to rise no more” (51:59–64). This would no doubt have been a source of comfort in the form of promised vengeance to those who witnessed it or later heard of it. However, the preceding oracles against the nations beginning in Jer 46:1 and running through 51:58 are typically thought to post date Jeremiah, though it is possible that at least some of the oracles against Babylon in chs. 50–51 have their origins in the scroll of 51:59–64. 171 E.g., his essentially negative prediction that Judah would go into captivity for “seventy
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The razing of Jerusalem in 586 brought about a sea change in Jewish prophecy. Prior to 586, prophets sought to interpret the threat of foreign invasion, some claiming that Jerusalem was inviolate, others warning that its fall was near. After 586, however, the brutal realities of foreign domination took their toll and prophets of all stripes, who were of course themselves caught up in the suffering, responded with messages of consolation. Ezekiel was a pivotal figure. He repeats traditional topoi of (1) suffering as divine discipline, (2) divine vengeance, and (3) the hope of restoration, even in the face of overwhelming destruction tantamout to national death.172 But he adds a new theological dimension in the question of theodicy. Consolation lies not simply in the promise of better days ahead. One must be assured of the inherent justice of God. The locus classicus for this sentiment is Ezek 14:22–3, which I have already cited above, but which bears repeating here: you will be consoled for the evil that I have brought upon Jerusalem … , and you will know that it was not without cause that I have done all that I have done in it, says the Lord God.
One must also be assured that present catastrophes will not be repeated and that with restoration comes lasting change:173 A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. I will put my spirit within you, and make you follow my statutes and be careful to observe my ordinances. Then you shall live in the land that I gave to your ancestors; and you shall be my people and I shall be your God.
years” (clearly a symbolic number) implied an end to the exile, a viewpoint supported by the fact that he also purchased a field in his native Anathoth as a sign that “houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land” (32:15). 172 On this last point, note especially the vision of the valley of dry bones in 37:1–14. One should also note here what appears to be a consolatory structure to the Book of Ezekiel: judgment on Jerusalem (chs. 1–24), vengeance on foreign nations (chs. 25–32), and prophecies of hope and restoration (33–48). This structure (judgment, vengeance, restoration) is also present in the Greek edition of Jeremiah, which probably reflects an earlier version than the present MT. Note also that according to Josephus (Ant. 10.5.1[79]), Ezekiel was credited with two books. These are commonly thought to be the book of judgment (chs. 1–24) and the book consolation (chs. 25–48), clearly placing hope of vengeance (chs. 25–32) and hope of restoration (chs. 33–48) as the two foci of prophetic consolation as it was understood in the first century c.e. 173 Ezek 36:26–8; cf. 11:19–20; 18:31. A similar thought is found in Jer 30:31–4, which is generally judged to be a later addition to the book; cf. Deut 30:6. The general guarantee that future salvation will be permanent becomes an important topos in apocalypticism: 1 En. 5.8; 10.16, 20, 22; 91.17; 92.5; 1QS 4.18–26 (cf. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 162–4). It finds expression in 1 Peter at 1:4: eij~ klhronomivan a[fqarton kai; ajmivanton kai; ajmavranton; cf. 5:10.
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The prophet most often associated with consolation during the exile is Second Isaiah, the anonymous author behind Isa 40–55,174 whose message begins with the following call:175 “Comfort, O comfort my people,” says your God; “speak to the heart of Jerusalem, proclaim to her that her servitude is over, her debt paid; she has received at Yahweh’s hand double for all her sins.”
I adduced this text earlier in my discussion of Jewish mourning ritual. The prophet here imagines Jerusalem as a woman in mourning,176 and assumes the role of a consoler, inviting others, presumably other prophets, to join him in his efforts to console her. In 52:1–2 he explicitly urges Jerusalem to end her mourning rites: “clothe yourself with your splendid robes … Arise, shake yourself free of the dust … ascend your throne.”177 By contrast, it is now time for Babylon to mourn (Isa 47:1–2): “Get down, sit in the dust, maiden Babylon! Deprived of a throne, sit on the ground, Chaldean maiden! … Take off your skirt, uncover your thighs.”178 174 On the possibility that ch. 35 was originally a part of chs. 40–55, see Joseph Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 19A; New York: Doubleday, 2000) 42–46. 175 The imperatives here (“comfort,” “speak,” “proclaim”) are plural. This has been interpreted as Yahweh addressing the divine council, however this is not a deliberative setting. It is better to see Isaiah issuing a call to other prophets to take up a new message of restoration and comfort. Thus Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 178–9. 176 That Nebuchadnezzar’s destruction of Jerusalem began a time of national mourning was a common thought in sixth century Judaism, as the book of Lamentations makes plain. Cf. Ps 74; 79: Bar 4:20. 177 The language recalls El’s mourning of Baal, which ends in similar fashion: “I now take my seat and rest, my soul rests within me”; Danil utters identical words in the Tale of Aqhat: “I now take my seat and rest.” An image similar to Isa 52:1–2, and perhaps dependent upon it, is found in Bar 5:1: “Jerusalem, take off your robe of mourning and misery; put on the splendor of glory from God forever.” 178 Cf. 43:14. It is not clear when Second Isaiah took up his message of restoration. The Persian monarch Cyrus II captured the Median capital of Ecbatana in 550, followed by the Lydian capital of Sardis in 547, after which time a clash with Babylon, which eventually fell in 539, was inevitable. And given Cyrus’ imperial propaganda as a restorer of ancient religious sites, the return of the Jewish exiles and the rebuilding of the Jerusalem temple may have been a realistic hope by the mid-440’s. It is therefore possible that Second Isaiah, who pinned his hopes squarely on Cyrus, even calling him God’s “anointed” (jyvm), began to proclaim Cyrus’ rescue of the Jewish people even before his conquest of Babylon. But it is also possible that Second Isaiah composed at least some if not all of these predictions after the fact in an effort to support his famous proof from prophecy. Post-factum prediction was an established form of Ancient Near Eastern political prophecy and is already attested in Babylon in the reign of Nebuchadnezzar I (1124–1103; the Marduk Prophecy) and Amel-Marduk (561–560; the Uruk Prophecy). For Cyrus’s imperial policy, see A. Kuhrt, “The Cyrus Cylinder and Achaemenid Imperial Policy,” JSOT 25 (1983) 83–97; for the Marduk Prophecy, see Riekele Borger, “Gott Marduk und Gott-König Shulgi als Propheten: Zwei prophetischen Texte,” BO 28 (1971) 3–24; for the Uruk Prophecy, see H. Hunger and S. A. Kaufman, “A New Akkadian Prophecy Text,” JAOS 95 (1975) 371–75.
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Central to Second Isaiah’s efforts to provide consolation to the exiles and to prepare them to return to the land is the so-called “oracle of salvation” or Heilsorakel, in which the prayerful lamentations of the afflicted are answered by a priest or cultic prophet who offers verbal assurance that Yahweh has heard and will intervene.179 To be effective, of course, the oracle must elicit faith, which is to say, it must be persuasive. To some degree oracular language itself, the poetry of the gods, accomplishes this. But there is also in Second Isaiah a sustained attempt to persuade by rational argument. It is here that the heart of Second Isaiah’s message is revealed, and that Jewish consolation, like Greco-Roman consolation, becomes argumentative. It is also here that the prophet meets with his most serious rhetorical challenges, for there are good reasons not to believe his message.180 At issue ultimately are the questions of Yahweh’s power – over foreign gods, over nature, and especially his power to effect history181 – and his continued goodwill toward his people. These questions will drive postexilic prophecy and will be central to the development of apocalypticism. Prophetic Consolation in the Postexilic Period. The prophetic voice in postexilic period can be heard in the oracles of Haggai, Zechariah, so-called Third Isaiah, Malachi, Joel, and in various editorial additions to emerging prophetic corpus. Traditional consolatory topoi such as the promise of vengeance continue to be employed, but a new set of problems arises as the utopian visions of Ezekiel and Second Isaiah run up against the disappointing realities of the Judean restoration, realities that include: relative poverty, continued domination by foreign powers, and internal divisions in the faltering post-exilic community.182 New consolatory strategies are developed to deal with these problems. Three strategies in particular will dominate: (1) a heightened emphasis on the absolute power of God answering the relative powerlessness of the postexilic community, (2) a deemphasizing of the overtly political in favor of an emphasis on cult and related matters of personal holiness as a means of currying God’s favor and effecting God’s intervention, and finally (3) a broadening eschatologi179 First described by Joachim Begrich, “Das priesterliche Heilsorakel,” ZAW 52 (1934) 81–92; idem, Studien zu Deuterojesaja (BWANT 77; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1938) 14–26; cf. Claus Westermann, “Das Heilswort bei Deuterojesaja,” EvTh 24 (1964) 355–73; Antoon Schoors, I Am God Your Savior: A Form-Critical Study of the Main Genres in Is. XL–LV (VTSup 24; Leiden: Brill, 1973) 32–175. 180 Some of the more formidable obstacles to belief are: (1) Yahweh’s apparent defeat by the Babylonian gods, especially Marduk, (2) the failure of earlier promises of deliverance, of which Isa 40–55 is only the most recent, (3) the overwhelming sense that Yahweh has deserted his people, and (4) the considerable hardships and dangers of a return march across the desert to Judah. 181 Yahweh’s powers begin to be greatly expanded during this period to meet these challenges. 182 On the last point see Paul D. Hanson, The Dawn of Apocalyptic (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975).
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cal horizon to make plausible the hope of divine intervention in the face of repeated disappointment.183 Haggai and Zechariah were cult prophets working in Jerusalem in the early years of Darius I (520–486 B.C.E.).184 Both respond to the postexilic community’s sense of impotence by promising divine intervention. According to Haggai, the rebuilt temple may be unimpressive in comparison with the previous one, but the restoration of the cult will bring back the presence and power of God, who will miraculously restore things beyond what can presently be imagined.185 According to Zechariah, although Jerusalem remains an un-walled and therefore unprotected city, God will himself become “a wall of fire all around it.”186 Both Haggai and Zechariah promise the miraculous restoration of the Davidic kingship.187 These promises will be realized, however, only as eschatological events: “For thus says the Lord of hosts: Once again, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land.”188 Alongside Haggai and Zechariah, who as prophets associated with the central cult in Jerusalem emphasized national restoration, were the prophets behind Isa 56–66, so-called Third Isaiah, who were not functionaries of the central cult and who were not so roundly optimistic.189 Rather than speaking for the postexilic community as a whole, they spoke of behalf of a smaller group with in the nation who referred to themselves variously as the “elect ones,” the “servants” of Yahweh, and those who “tremble at the word.”190 According to the prophecies collected and published by this group, a future judgment awaited not only the nations who oppressed Israel, but the reprobate within the postexilic community who opposed the true people of Yahweh. Malachi and Joel include similar predictions regarding a small eschatological community of those
183 Ending ultimately in such eschatological fantacies as Zech 14:1–21; cf. Joel 2:28–3:21 (3:1–4:21 MT); Isa 24–27. Postexilic additions to earlier collections of oracles include Hos 14:1–7; Amos 9:11–15; Mic 7:8–20; cf. Zeph 3:14–20; Joel 3:18–21. 184 Peter Ross Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah (JSJSup 65; Leiden: Brill, 2001). 185 Hag 2:3–7. 186 Zech 2:5. 187 Hag 2:21–3; Zech 4:6–10. 188 Hag 2:6–7; cf. 2:21–2: “I am about the shake the heavens and the earth, and to overthrow the throne of kingdoms.” 189 Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66, 63–6. 190 “Those who tremble at the word” (rbdAla μydrjh): Isa 66:2, 5; cf. Ezra 9:4; 10:9; “my servants” (ydb[): 65:8, 9, 13–15; “my elect ones” (yryjb): 65:9, 15. The last of these suggests a narrowing of the doctrine of election to focus on a sect within Israel. See the discussion in Joseph Blenkinsopp, “A Jewish Sect in the Persian Period,” CBQ 52 (1990) 5–20; idem, “The ‘Servants of the Lord’ in Third Isaiah,” in PIBA 7 (1983) 1–23; idem, Isaiah 55–66, Index, s.v. “Elect.”
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who variously fear Yahweh or call upon the name of Yahweh, and thus survive “the great and terrible Day of Yahweh.”191 Consolation in Jewish Apocalypticism Consolation is a central theme in Jewish apocalypticism.192 Like prophetic consolation, apocalyptic consolation looks to God to resolve the injustices of this life. Unlike prophetic consolation, however, apocalyptic consolation extends the framework for God’s intervention beyond the here and now to include a time beyond death in which God can still act to bring about justice.193 Apocalyptic consolation appears in response to two national crises: (1) the Hellenistic crisis in the third and early second centuries b.c.e., culminating the violent suppression of Judaism by the Seleucid monarch Antiochus IV Epiphanes, and (2) the Roman subjugation of Judea leading to the disastrous first and second Jewish wars.194 Apocalyptic consolation is typically intended not for the nation as a whole but for a particular religious group within the nation.195 1 Peter will draw heavily on apocalyptic consolation. The Hellenistic Crisis. The Hellenistic crisis begins with the destructive wars of Diadochi, the Macedonian generals who succeeded Alexander the Great, and ends with the Maccabean Revolt against Antiochus IV. Apocalpytic texts from
191 Joel 2:28–32 (MT 3:1–5); Mal 3:13–4:3 (MT 3:13–21); esp. Joel 2:32 (MT 3:5): “survivors” (μydyrc); Mal 3:16: “those who fear Yahweh” (hwhy yary)”; 4:2 (MT 3:20): “those who fear my name (yμv yary).” Joel implies that this was an egalitarian community where people of every status are inspired as oracles and visionaries (Joel 2:28–9 [MT 3:1–2]). 192 John J. Collins, “From Prophecy to Apocalypticism: The Expectation of the End,” in idem, ed., The Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism: Volume 1: The Origins of Apocalypticism in Judaism and Christianity (New York: Continuum, 2000) 159: “Apocalypses surely were written to exhort and console”; David Hellholm, “The Problem of the Apocalyptic Genre and the Apocalypse of John,” Semeia 36 (1986) 27: “with the purpose of exhortation and/or consolation”; more generally, see Stephen L. Cook, Prophecy and Apocalypticism: The Postexilic Social Setting (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995). For an introduction to Jewish apocalypticism in general and to the texts discussed in this section in particular, see John J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to Jewish Apocalyptic Literature (2nd ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998). 193 John J. Collins, “Apocalyptic Eschatology as the Transcendence of Death,” CBQ 36 (1974) 21–43. 194 This is by no means a complete accounting of apocalypticism, but it is sufficient for our purposes to note that most if not all of the major consolatory strategies expressed in apocalyptic Judaism were deployed in response to these two national crises and their various effects. A monograph length description of consolation in Second Temple Judaism remains a major desideratum. 195 Collins, “Apocalyptic Eschatology as the Transcendence of Death,” 84: “In classical biblical prophecy the issue had always been the life of the nation. Apocalypticism still deals with a communal context, whether it be the nation or, more often, the just, but its concern has expanded to the life of the individual.”
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this period include: (1) the early Enochic writings:196 the Book of the Watchers (1 En. 1–36); the Astronomical Book (1 En. 72–82); the Book of Dreams (1 En. 83–90), including the Animal Apocalypse (1 En. 84–90); and the Epistle of Enoch (1 En. 92–105), including the Apocalypse of Weeks (1 En. 93.1–10 + 91.11–17);197 (2) the biblical book of Daniel (esp. chs. 7–12); (3) the Testament of Moses; and (4) Sibylline Oracle 6.198 The most pressing problem confronting the authors of these early apocalyptic texts was a sense of helplessness before the vast empires of the Hellenistic period.199 One popular strategy in response to this was for a seer to claim for himself and his readers a privileged relationship with God. This could be expressed by range of self-valorizing titles such as “the righteous ones” (μyqdx), 200 “the holy ones” (μyvwdq), 201 “the wise ones” (μylykcm), 202 “the pious ones” (μydysj), 203 but especially “the elect ones” (μyryjb), 204 a title that will play a pro196 These texts are concisely and authoritatively introduced by George W. E. Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature Between the Bible and the Mishnah (2nd ed.; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005) 41–89; on the current state of these texts and in particular their collection in what is now 1 Enoch, see Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 21–36. 197 The Epistle of Enoch (though not the Apocalypse of Weeks) may date slightly later to the Hasmonean period; Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature Between the Bible and the Mishnah, 110–14. 198 These texts are introduced in Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination; Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature Between the Bible and the Mishnah; Michael E. Stone, ed., Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period: Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Qumran Sectarian Writings, Philo, Josephus (CRINT 2.3; Assen: Van Gorcum, 1984). 199 Contexts vary: for instance, the original crisis giving rise to the Book of the Watchers “may have been of a rather general nature, such as the spread of Hellenistic culture in the East” (Collins, Apocalyptic Imagination, 59); the Epistle of Enoch, on the other hand, presupposes a more clearly defined religious community experiencing “conflict, alienation, and victimization” (Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 63); Daniel 7–12 presupposes lethal persecution (Dan 11: 33–5; cf. 1 En. 81.9). 200 1 En. 1.1, 8; 5.6; 25.5; 38.2, 3, 4, 5; 39.6, 7; 48.1; 51.5 53.6; 58.1, 2, 3; 60.8; 61.13; 62.12, 13, 15; 70.3; 82.4; 93.10; cf. 91.3; 93.2; 102.10; Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 147–8 n. 29; David Hill, “Divkaioi as a Quasi-Technical Term,” NTS 11 (1965) 296–302; Matthew Black, The Book of Enoch or 1 Enoch (SVTP 7; Leiden: Brill, 1985) Index s.v. “righteous.” 201 A common designation for angels in Second Temple texts (John J. Collins, Daniel: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel [Hermeneia: Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993] 313–17; cf. Luc Dequeker, “The Saints of the Most High in Qumran and Daniel,” OTS 18 (1973) 108–87); used near the end of the Epistle of Enoch at 1 En. 100.5 to refer to the religious group behind the document, but otherwise does not seem to have become a technical term for a religious sect until the Similitudes of Enoch, where it is used frequently (e.g., 38.4–5; 39.4; 43.4; 47.4; 48.9; 50.1; 51.1; 58.3, 5; 62.8); Black, The Book of Enoch or 1 Enoch, Index s.v. “holy.” 202 Dan 11:33; 12:3, for which see the discussion in Collins, Daniel, 385–6, 93. 203 1 En. 100.5; 102.4, 6; 103.3, 4, 9, 12; 108.11 (cf. 92.3; 106.18), for which see the discussion in Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 64–5 and ad loc. 204 An especially important term in the Enochic corpus: e.g., 1.1, 8; 5.7; 25.5; 40.5; 41.2; 48.1; 51.5; 56.6; 58.3; 62.7, 8, 11, for which see Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 52–4: “1 Enoch’s primary religious category is a notion of election”; cf. Black, The Book of Enoch or 1 Enoch, Index s.v. “elect”; G. Schrenk, “ejklevgomai, ejkloghv, ejklektov~, “ TWNT 4:173–197, esp. 186ff.
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minent role in 1 Peter. The claim to be specially chosen by God had already emerged in Israel’s late legal and prophetic traditions as a piece of nationalistic propaganda aimed at bolstering the nation’s battered corporate identity. 205 It was deployed for similar rhetorical purposes in the apocalyptic tradition, though here it was characteristically used more selectively to designate a particular religious group within the Jewish state, a shift that had already taken place in post-exilic prophetic texts like Third Isaiah, as we have already noted. 206 In the Similitudes of Enoch (1 En. 37–71), which dates to the early Roman period, not only are the readers themselves called “the elect ones,” but their Messiah, an angelic figure who represents them before the “Lord of Spirits,”207 is designated “the Elect One,”208 a title that comes over into Christianity: oJ cristo;~ tou' qeou' oJ ejklektov~.209 Divine election is an important consolatory topos in 1 Peter where it is also applied both to the Messiah (Christ) and his followers. 210 As further indication of a unique relationship to God, many apocalyptists during this period also begin to imagine themselves and their readers to be lone holdouts for God in a hostile world, a predicament which they believe has been foisted upon them not by the vicissitudes of history but by evil cosmic powers in rebellion against God.211 This is, of course, a highly flattering scenario in that 205 The concept of national election gains is classic formulation in Deuteronomy, where in the wake of Assyrian brutalities the beleaguered nation is assured of its prominence in the purposes of Yahweh (Deut 7:6–7). In the prophetic corpus election becomes prominent in Second Isaiah, where it is predicated of the nation no less than seven times (41:8, 9; 43:10, 20; 44:1–2; 45:4). Twice, however, it is predicated of an individual (42:1; 49:7). 206 Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 147–8; the term is also common in Qumran (e.g., 1QS 8.6; 11.7; 1QH 2.13), for which see Geza Vermes, The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English (New York: Penguin Books, 1995) 72–7. 207 1 En. 46.1: “like one of the holy angels” (cf. Christopher Rowland, The Open Heaven: A Study of Apocalypticism in Judaism and Early Christianity [New York: Crossroad, 1982] 94–113); for the Son of Man figure in the Similitudes as a “heavenly Doppelgänger” for the community, see Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination, 183–7. 208 1 En. 38.2–3; 39.6; 40.5; 45.3–5; 48.6; 49.2–4; 51.3; 52.6, 9; 53.6; 55.4; 61.5, 8, 10; 62.2. This designation derives ultimately from Second Isaiah (Isa 41:8–9; 42:1); cf. Johannes Theisohn, Der auserwählte Richter (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1975). The title “Elect One of God” (ahla ryjb) appears at Qumran in 4QMess ar (= 4Q534) 1.10, where it probably refers to Noah; cf. Florentino García Martínez, “4QMess Ar and the Book of Noah,” in idem, Qumran and Apocalyptic: Studies in the Aramaic Texts from Qumran (STDJ 9; Leiden: Brill, 1992) 1–44. 209 Lk 23:35; cf. 9:35: ou{tov~ ejstin oJ uiJov~ mou oJ ejklelegmevno~ (¸45, 75, , B); John 1:34 v.l.: ou|tov~ ejstin oJ ejklekto;~ tou' qeou' (*). 210 1 Pet 1:1; 2:4, 6, 9. 211 This has its roots in one of the oldest layers of traditions, the Book of the Watchers (esp. 6–11 and its expansion in 12–16). For a discussion see John J. Collins, Apocalypticism in the Dead Sea Scrolls (London: Routledge, 1997) 30–51; cf. George W. E. Nickelsburg, “Apocalyptic and Myth in 1 Enoch 6–11,” JBL 96 (1972) 383–405; Michael E. Stone, “The Book of Enoch and Judaism in the Third Century,” CBQ 40 (1978) 479–92. The evidence is collected
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it places at the center of cosmic events persons who feel themselves to be powerless and disenfranchised. 212 But it is also a scenario that could, upon reflection, invite despair in that it only further emphasizes the powerlessness of these disenfranchised groups to improve their situation. Early apocalyptic writers go to great pains, therefore, to construct a world in which God’s just purposes prevail in the end, even if that means, as we have already noted, extending that end beyond history as it is normally conceived to a time of divine judgment that will include, if not all who have died, then at least God’s elect and those who have persecuted them. 213 It is ultimately upon this hope of eschatological vindication that these writers hang their consolation, which may be itemized as follows:214 (1) that God will richly reward the righteous; (2) that God will punish the wicked; (3) that this final judgment will be sooner rather than later; 215 and finally (4) that the present suffering of the righteous is “purifying” them for their final reward. 216 Roman Subjugation of Judea and Destruction of Jerusalem. The Roman subjugation of Judea begins with Pompey’s occupation of Jerusalem in 63 b.c.e. and ends with the disastrous Jewish revolts of 66–73 and 132–35 c.e. A number of in Michael Mach, Entwicklungsstadien des jüdischen Engelsglauben in vorrabbinischer Zeit (TSAJ 34; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1995); cf. Peter von der Osten-Sacken, Gott und Belial: traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zum Dualismus in den Texten aus Qumran (SUNT 6; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1969). 212 Cf. Collins, Apocalyptic Imagination, 65: “The election of his group thus becomes a focal point of the whole [apocalyptic] schema… . The control of history is in the hands of supernatural agents. The overview of history and the cosmic judgment provide encouragement for the ‘chosen righteous’ and, more basically, confirm their special status in the design of God.” 213 E.g., Dan 12:2–3; Collins, Daniel, 394–8; more generally, George W. E. Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality and Eternal Life in Intertestamental Judaism (HTS 26; Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1972; cf. idem, “The Apocalyptic Construction of Reality in 1 Enoch,” in John J. Collins and James H. Charlesworth, eds., Mysteries and Revelations: Apocalyptic Studies Since the Uppsala Colloquium (JSPSup 9; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991) 51–64. 214 See esp. 1 En. 92:2–5; George W. E. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch: A Commentary on 1 Enoch, Chapters 1–36; 81–108 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001) 431–33. For vengeance in particular, see 1 En. 98:12: “[the wicked] will be given into the hand of the righteous, and they will cut your necks and they will kill you and not spare you.” 215 The timing of the end is implied most clearly in the various vaticinia ex eventu where the events contemporary with the production of the text are “predicted” to occur immediately before the end. Collins, Apocalyptic Imagination, 64: “The schematization of history then shows that the greater number of periods has already elapsed and that the turning point is at hand.” This theme becomes prominent in later texts: 4 Ezra 4:26, 42; 6:20; 14:11–12, 18; 2 Bar. 20.1–2, 6; 48.39, esp. 83.1 (“the Most High will surely hasten his times”); 85.10 (“very near”). 216 Dan 11:35; cf. 2 Bar. 13.1–12; 78.6; 4 Ezra 7:14; Rev 7:14; more generally, Pss. Sol. 3.3–4; 10.1–4; 13.6–11. For the theme in 1 Peter, see 1 Pet 1:6–7; 4:17; 5:6, 10, 12. On 1 Pet 3:21 (the preservation of Noah in an earlier cosmic judgment), cf. 1 En. 10.3. See the discussion in Winston, Wisdom of Solomon, 127, who also cites 2 Macc 6:12.
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apocalyptic and related texts come from this period. They include: (1) the Similitudes of Enoch (1 En. 37–71); (2) the Psalms of Solomon; (3) 4 Ezra; (4) 2 Baruch; (5) the Apocalypse of Abraham; (6) 2 Enoch; (7) 3 Baruch; (8) Sibylline Oracles 1, 2, 4, 5; and (9) the Testament of Abraham.217 In many ways apocalyptic consolation in the Roman period is simply a continuation of earlier speculation. The standard topoi are repeated, though emphases will vary. 218 However, three arguments commonly deployed in this period deserve special mention because of their relevance to 1 Peter. They are: (1) the promise that the rewards of the righteous and the punishments of the wicked are already in place; (2) the related promise that during the time of their testing the righteous will be divinely preserved; and (3) the increasingly common recommendation that the righteous allow themselves to be distracted from their present anxieties by focusing instead on heavenly mysteries, including God’s justice in the world to come. I will conclude my discussion of apocalyptic consolation by briefly examining these. The assurance that God has already prepared the rewards of the righteous and punishments of the wicked has its origins early in the Hellenistic period,219 but it appears with much greater frequency in the apocalyptic writings of the Roman period. This is especially the case for the post-70 c.e. apocalypses of 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch. 220 At 2 Bar. 52.7, for instance, the seer urges his readers to “prepare your souls for that which is kept for you, and make ready your souls 217 These texts are introduced in: Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination; Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature Between the Bible and the Mishnah; Stone, ed., Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period. 218 Theodicy is a prominent theme in 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch; for its importance in the early Enochic corpus, see Paulo Sacchi, Jewish Apocalyptic and Its History (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996); Florentino García Martínez, “Les traditions apocalyptiques à Qumrân,” in C. Kappler, ed., Apocalypses et voyages dans l’au-delà (Paris: Cerf, 1987) 201–35; cf. Earl Breech, “These Fragments I Have Shored Against My Ruins: The Form and Function of 4 Ezra,” JBL 92 (1973) 267–74; Michael E. Stone, Fourth Ezra: A Commentary on the Book of Fourth Ezra (Hermeneia: Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990) 28–33, 50–51. On the theme of vengeance, which is also increasingly emphasized in this period, see esp. 1 En. 48.9; 38.5; 1QS 2.4b-9; Feldmeier, “Nation,” 259. 219 In the Book of the Watchers (chs. 18–19; 21–2, 26–8) Enoch is shown the places where the wicked, including the fallen angels, are to be punished and the righteous are rewarded in an effort to “reinforce the certainty [of God’s final justice]” (Collins, Apocalyptic Imagination, 55). Similarly, in the Epistle of Enoch at 1 En. 103.2–3 Enoch assures his readers: “I have read the tablets of heaven and I have seen the writings of what must be, and I know the things that are written in them and inscribed concerning you – that good things and joy and honor have been prepared and written down for the souls of the pious who have died”; cf. 31.8; Armin Lange, Weisheit und Prädestination: Weisheitliche Urordnung und Prädestination in den Textfunden von Qumran. (STDJ 18; Leiden: Brill, 1995) 69–79; Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 478–80. 220 E.g., J. Keulers, “Die eschatologische Lehre des vierten Esrabuches,” BibS(F) 20.2–3 (1922) 18.
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for the reward which is being preserved for you.”221 Similarly, at 2 Bar. 84.26 he promises the lost tribes, “you shall receive from the Almighty everything that has been prepared and preserved for you.”222 At 2 Bar. 54.4 God receives the title: “the one who reveals to those who fear [him] that which is prepared for them so that [he] might console them.”223 This topos will appear at 1 Pet 1:4b: eij~ klhronomivan a[fqarton kai; ajmivanton kai; ajmavranton tethrhmevnhn ejn oujranoi'~ eij~ uJma'~.224 Closely related to this assurance is the promise that God will actively preserve the righteous themselves. 225 The original assurance seems have been that God would physically protect the righteous during the looming apocalyptic crisis:226 And the Most High will be aroused on that day to execute judgment on all. He will set a guard of holy angels over all the righteous and holy, and they will be kept as the apple of the eye until evil and sin come to an end.
This promise was naturally extended to include the preservation of the souls of the righteous (and of the wicked) after death. 227 However, in some texts a more spiritual preservation comes into view, a preservation of the righteous in their righteousness. 228 This becomes a point of emphasis at Qumran: “The God of 221 Cf. 14.12: “a store of good works which is preserved in treasuries”; 24.1; 4 Ezra 7:77; 8:33–6; Tob 4:9; cf. 1 En. 48.7. 222 Emerging rabbinic tradition will take this claim a step further and assert that both Gehenna and Paradise were prepared even before Adam was created (b. Ned. 39b; b. Pesah. 54a; and the texts cited by Stone, 4 Ezra, 68 n. 46), a topos already in evidence in 2 En. A 49.2 “before any person existed, a place of judgment was prepared for him.” 223 Cf. Heb 6:18: i{na … ijscura;n paravklhsin e[cwmen oiJ katafugovnte~ krath'sai th'~ prokeimevnh~ ejlpivdo~. 224 Elsewhere in early Christian consolation it occurs at 1 Cor. 2:9: a} hJtoivmasen oJ qeo;~ toi'~ ajgapw`sin aujton, and John 14:1: poreuvomai eJtoimavsai tovpon uJmi'n. Cf. 2 Cor 5:1; 2 Tim 4:8. 225 This concept may have its origins in the marking of the houses of the Israelites in the Exodus cycle. It is later applies to the residents of Jerusalem marked so as not to be destroyed by angelic “executioners” in Ezek 9:4–5 (cf. Isa 44:5; Rev 7:3–4); cf. Jub. 14.32. 226 1 En. 100.4–5; cf. 1.8: “The earth will be wholly rent asunder, and everything on the earth will perish, and there will be judgment upon all. With the righteous he will make peace, and over the chosen there will be protection, and upon them will be mercy”; cf. Apoc. Ab. 29.17. References to Noah’s preservation during the Flood (a type of the final judgment) should also be included: 1 En. 10.2–3; 89.1. 227 1 En. 22.3–5; Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination, 56: “The spirits of the dead, both righteous and wicked, are kept for a day of judgment.” 228 I En. 48.47. One means of preserving the righteous in their righteousness is to impart to them divine wisdom: “Then wisdom will be given to the chosen; and they will all live; and they will sin no more through godlessness and pride. In the enlightened man there will be light, and in the wise man, understanding. And they will transgress no more, nor will they sin all the days of their life, nor will they die in the heat of God’s wrath” (1 En. 5.8–9). According to 1 Pet 4:1–2 this sinlessness is attainable in this life through a mindset embracing suffering
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Israel and his Angel of Truth will succor all the sons of light”; and again: “You have upheld me with certain truth; you have delighted me with your holy spirit.”229 This is the sense of the topos in early Christian texts such as 1 Thess 5:23: aujto;~ de; oJ qeo;~ th'~ eijrhvnh~ aJgiavsai uJma'~ oJlotelei'~, kai; oJlovklhron uJmw`n to; pneu'ma kai; hJ yuch; kai; to; sw`ma ajmevmtw~ §n thÊ parousiva/ tou' kurivou hJmw`n jIhsou' Cristou' thrhqeivh.
Similarly at Jude 24: tw`/ de; dunamevnw/ fulavxai uJma'~ ajpaivstou~ kai; sth'sai katenwvpion th'~ dovxh~ aujtou' ajmwvmou~. This topos will figure prominently in 1 Peter occurring at 1 Pet 1:5: uJma'~ tou;~ ejn dunavmei qeou' froufoumevnou~ dia; pivstew~, 230 and then again at 5:12: oJ de; qeo;~ pavsh~ cavrito~, oJ kalevsa~ uJma'~ eij~ th;n aijwvnion aujtou' dovxan ejn Cristw`/ jIhsou', ojlivgon paqovnta~ aujto;~ katartivsei, sthrivxei, sqenwvsei, qemeliwvsei. 231 A third piece of apocalyptic consolation gaining currency in the Roman period is the advice that the elect should turn their attention away from their present suffering to their future rewards in a kind of apocalyptic distraction. Thus the angel Uriel asks the seer at 4 Ezra 7:14: “Why have you not considered in your mind what is to come, rather than what is now present?”232 Similarly, the heavenly voice says to Baruch at 2 Bar. 19.4: “You, however, should not think about this in your heart and you should not be afflicted because of things that have been,” adding at 19.7: “when a man is badly treated in his youth but is happy in the end [a reference to eschatological salvation], he does not remember his disgrace anymore.”233 Baruch urges the lost tribes at 2 Bar. 83.5: “Nothing of the present things should come into your heart… . let us think about what has been promised to us regarding the end.” This strategy of distraction by heavenly vision seems to be the theme of 3 Baruch, where an angel promises the grieving Baruch that if he will “not concern [him]self so much over the salvation of Jerusalem,” then he will show him great things of God. In response Baruch vows never to utter a word of grief again if he is shown these things: 234
after the manner of Christ. An analogous problem is addressed in Jer 31:33; Ezek 36:26–8; cf. 11:19–20; 18:31. 229 1QS 3.21–4; 1QH 17.32; cited with discssion by Vermes, The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English, 74–6, who observes: “Not only is election itself owed to God’s grace, but perseverance in the way of holiness cannot be counted on unless he offers his continuous help and support” (74). 230 Cf. Did. 16.5. 231 According to Eph 2:10 God prepares the good works of Christians in advance. 232 Quare non accepiste in corde tuo quo futurum, sed quod in praesenti? 233 See further, Gwen Sayler, “2 Baruch”; cf. Sir 11:26–8; also 9:11–12. 234 3 Bar. 1.3–4, 7.
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“As the Lord lives, if you disclose [even] a word to me and I hear it from you, I shall speak no further! May God add to me punishment on the Day of Judgment if I speak [a further word of grief] in the future!”
The ensuing tour does little to quench Baruch’s enthusiasm: “Indeed, sir, you have shown me great and wondrous things – now show me all, for God’s sake!”235 In several texts something more than mere distraction is envisaged. In 4 Ezra 14:8–15, for example, a more wholesale redirection of values similar to the coping strategy of “disidentification” described by modern social psychologists seems to be operating:236 Lay up in your heart the signs that I have shown you, the dreams that you have seen, and the interpretations that you have heard… . And now renounce the life that is corruptible and put away from you mortal thoughts; cast away from you the burdens of man, and divest yourself of your weak nature, and lay to one side the thoughts that are most grievous to you, and hasten to escape from these times.
I shall argue below that something very close to this is on offer at 1 Pet 1:13–2:10, which begins: dio; ajnazwsavmenoi ta;~ ojsfuva~ th'~ dianoiva~ uJmw`n nhvfonte~ teleivw~ ejlpivsate ejpi; th;n feromevnhn uJmi'n cavrin ejn ajpokaluvyei jIhsou' Cristou'.
235 3 Bar. 4.1. My interpretation of 3 Baruch as consolation by distraction obviously departs from the popular understanding of apocalyptic consolation proposed by J.-C. Picard, “Observations sur l’Apocalypse grecque de Baruch,” Semitica 20 (1970) 77–103, according to which (here esp. 87–90) the apocalypse serves as a kind of therapeutic “mythological enactment of [the] future in the present” (John G. Gager, Kingdom and Community [Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1975] 50) effecting what Levi-Strauss calls a “shamanistic cure.” 236 Similarly, at 2 Bar. 52.6–7: “Find joy in your present sufferings. Why do you long for the decline of your enemies? Prepare your souls for that which is kept for you, and make ready you souls for the reward which is preserved for you.”
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How People Cope with Prejudice: The Findings of Modern Social Psychology Among his own, the stigmatized individual can use his disadvantage as a basis for organizing his life, but he must resign himself to a half-world to do so.*
1 Peter was written to console its readers in their distress – “zu stärken und zu trosten.”1 It was also written to advise them on how to cope with anti-Christian prejudice and persecution. In the last chapter I examined various strategies of consolation. In this chapter I examine the strategies people employ to cope with prejudice. But whereas in my discussion of consolation I was able to work almost exclusively with ancient materials, in the present chapter on coping I shall have to turn to modern analyses. This is not because ancient Mediterranean people did not seek to cope with their predicaments. They obviously did. But they did not reflect upon their various coping strategies in the way that they reflected upon their methods of consolation, and thus coping does not standout as a distinct human activity in the ancient sources in the same way that consolation does. Furthermore, modern students of Mediterranean antiquity have not as yet analyzed the still raw evidence for coping in antiquity. At present, then, the best way to approach ancient coping is to begin with modern coping studies, the findings of which then may be brought heuristically to the ancient evidence. I shall divide my treatment of coping into three parts: (1) strategies for coping with prejudice, (2) moderators for choosing a particular coping strategy, and (3) the sometimes negative side-effects of coping. I conclude with a brief discussion of the phenomena of coping and consolation and the genre of 1 Peter.
* Irving Goffman, Stigma. 1 Lohse, “Paränese und Kerygma in 1 Petrusbrief,” 73; cf. Holloway, “Nihil inopinati accidisse.”
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Strategies for Coping with Prejudice Early researchers on prejudice assumed that prejudice was almost always psychologically damaging. 2 “What would happen to your personality,” Allport asks, “if you heard it said over and over again that you are lazy and had inferior blood?” The result, he believes, would be unavoidably negative: “One’s reputation, whether false or true, cannot be hammered, hammered, hammered, into one’s head without doing something to one’s character.”3 It could be catastrophic: “Group oppression may destroy the integrity of the ego entirely, and reverse its normal pride, and create a groveling self-image.”4 This is not an unreasonable assumption, and it is characteristic of Allport’s broad humanism that he sought to identify sympathetically with the plight of the oppressed. 5 Subsequent research, however, has not only repeatedly failed to confirm such commonsensical assumptions, it has largely reversed them.6 The socially stigmatized, it turns out, are remarkably resilient when it comes to coping with stigma and prejudice, and far from mechanically internalizing stigma they regularly exhibit levels of self-esteem equal to if not greater than their non-stigmatized counterparts.7 Strategies for coping with stigma and prejudice have become an important research agenda in modern social psychology.8 Targets of prejudice exhibit a wide variety of coping strategies, and these have been variously categorized. Allport himself listed 14 different types of “ego defenses” that he grouped into two categories: “extropunitive” and “intropunitive.”9 Tajfel and Turner employed a three-fold classification: social 2 In addition to Allport cited below, see Dorwin Cartwright, “Emotional Dimension of Group Life,” in Martin L. Raymert, ed., Feelings and Emotions (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1950) 440: “Self-hatred and feelings of worthlessness tend to arise from membership in underprivileged or outcast groups”; Erik Erikson, “The Problem of Ego-Identity,” Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association 4 (1956) 155: “There is ample evidence of ‘inferiority’ feelings and morbid self-hate in all minority groups.” For a review, see George Eaton Simpson and J. Milton Yinger, Racial and Cultural Minorities: An Analysis of Prejudice and Discrimination (5th ed.; New York: Plenum Press, 1985). 3 Allport, The Nature of Prejudice, 142. 4 Allport, The Nature of Prejudice, 152. 5 For an appreciative volume, see Dovidio et al., eds., On the Nature of Prejudice: Fifty Years after Allport. 6 See Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” for a review. 7 E.g., Jon W. Hoelter, “Factorial Invariance and Self-Esteem: Reassessing the Evidence,” Social Forces 61 (1983) 834–46; Judith R. Porter and Robert E. Washington, “Black Identity and Self-Esteem: A Review of Studies of Black Self-Concept,” Annual Review of Sociology 5 (1979) 53–74; Gary F. Jensen, C. S. White, and James M Galliher, “Ethnic Status and Adolescent Self-Evaluations: An Extension of Research on Minority Self-Esteem,” Social Problems 30 (1982) 226–39. 8 See Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” for a discussion. 9 Nature of Prejudice, 160–61, following Saul Rosenzweig, “The Picture-Association Method and Its Application in a Study of Reaction to Frustration,” Journal of Personality 14
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mobility, social competition, and social creativity.10 Other classifications include: assertive versus non assertive,11 individual versus collective,12 reactive versus proactive,13 and behavioral versus psychological.14 In a recent review of the empirical literature Miller and Major have interpreted the coping phenomena associated with prejudice within the broader stress and coping theory of Lazarus and Folkman, with prejudice being understood as a “stressor.”15 This has a number of benefits, not the least of which is that it allows researchers working on prejudice and stigma to appropriate the established findings of stress and coping studies. Three of these findings are particularly relevant to 1 Peter. First, not all responses to stress constitute coping. Coping pertains only to voluntary responses.16 But there are also involuntary responses to stress, which include such things as emotional numbing, intrusive thoughts, various physiological reactions, and different forms of emotional arousal (e.g. anger, anxiety, fear, etc.).17 These involuntary responses can in turn become a further part of the problem (1945) 3–23. Extropunitive strategies attack the source of the threat, while intropunitive strategies place the responsibility for the stigma on the stigmatized individual. 10 Tajfel and Turner, “The Social Identity Theory of Intergroup Behavior.” 11 Swim, et al., “Experiencing Everyday Prejudice and Descrimination.” 12 Naomi Ellemers and Wendy Van Rijswijk, “Identity versus Social Opportunities: The Use of Group Level and Individual Level Identity Management Strategies,” Social Psychology Quarterly 60 (1997) 52–65. 13 Lisa G. Aspinwall and Shelley E. Taylor, “A Stitch in Time: Self-Regulation and Proactive Coping,” Psychological Bulletin 121 (1997) 417–36. 14 J. Stacy Adams, “Inequity in Social Exchange,” in Leonard Berkowitz, ed., Advances in Experimental Social Psychology. Vol. 2 (New York: Academic Press, 1965) 267–98. 15 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma”; cf. Richard S. Lazarus and Susan Folkman, Stress, Appraisal, and Coping (New York: Springer, 1984); more recently: Carol T. Miller and Cheryl R. Kaiser, “A Theoretical Perspective on Coping with Stigma,” Journal of Social Issues 57 (2001) 73–92; Carol T. Miller, “Social Psychological Perspectives on Coping with Stressors Related to Stigma,” in Shana Levin and Colette van Laar, eds., Stigma and Group Inequality: Social Psychological Perspectives (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2006) 21–44. Earlier studies conceiving prejudice as a stressor include: Allison, “Stress and Oppressed Category Membership”; and Rodney Clark, Norman B. Anderson, Vernessa R. Clark, and David R. Williams, “Racism as a Stressor for African Americans: A Biopsychosocial Model,” American Psychologist 54 (1999) 805–16. 16 Bruce E. Compas, Jennifer K. Connor-Smith, Heidi Saltzman, Alexandra H. Thompsen, and Martha E. Wadsworth, “Coping with Stress during Childhood and Adolescence: Problems, Progress and Potential in Theory and Research,” Psychological Bulletin 127 (2001) 87–127; Jennifer K. Connor-Smith, Bruce E. Compas, Martha. E. Wadsworth, Alexandra H. Thompsen, Heidi Saltzman, “Responses to Stress in Adolescence: Measurement of Coping and Involuntary Stress Responses,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 68 (2000) 976–92. 17 Connor-Smith et al., “Responses to Stress in Adolescence,” 976–7; cf. Bruce E. Compas, Jennifer Connor, Dana Osowiecki, and Amy Welch, “Effortful and Involuntary Responses to Stress: Implications for Coping with Chronic Stress,” in Benjamin H. Gottlieb, ed., Coping with Chronic Stress (New York: Plenum, 1997) 105–30.
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in that they can either exacerbate existing difficulties or interfere with a person’s conscious efforts to cope with a problematic situation. So, for example, persons responding to prejudice with anger may find that their anger exacerbates already troubled social relationships, whereas persons responding to prejudice encounters with fear may find that their fear interferes with their conscious coping efforts.18 In such cases the need to regulate these involuntary emotions becomes an additional stressor that will itself have to be coped with.19 We will return to this problem in our discussion of 1 Pet 3:14–16 where strategies for regulating both fear and anxiety (mh; fobhqh'te mhde; taracqh'te; 14b) as well as anger (ajlla; meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbou) are offered. 20 The second and third findings of stress and coping theory relevant to 1 Peter are related. They are: that persons in stressful situations “often use more than one strategy at a time,”21 and that coping strategies are “dynamic, multifaceted, and interdependent” practical exercises22 that often appear haphazard or even mutually “incompatible” to outside observers. 23 Both of these findings are pertinent to 1 Peter: (1) because 1 Peter outlines not one but three distinct coping strategies, 24 and (2) because at least the first two of these strategies have been described as incompatible. This latter consideration goes a long way toward explaining (and solving) the so-called Balch-Elliott debate. According to Elliott, whose analysis focuses on the strategy developed in 1 Pet 1:13–2:10, the author of 1 Peter advocates a careful sect-like maintenance of religious boundaries and the conversion (not imita18 Cheryl A. Armstead, Kathleen A. Lawler, Gloria Gorden, John Cross, and Judith Gibbons, “Relationship of Racial Stressors to Blood Pressure Responses and Anger Expression in Black College Students,” Health Psychology 8 (1989) 541–556. 19 Miller, “Social Psychological Perspectives on Coping with Stressors Related to Stigma,” 34: “Engagement control coping that is aimed at gaining primary control over the stressful event includes problem solving and efforts to directly regulate one’s emotions or the expression of emotion”; cf. Miller and Kaiser, “A Theoretical Perspective on Coping with Stigma,” 83–5. 20 See the discussion below in Chapter 9. 21 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 250, citing James H. Amirkhan, “Applying Attribution Theory to the Study of Stress and Coping,” in Sandra Graham and Valerie S. Folkes, eds., Attribution Theory: Applications to Achievement, Mental Health, and Interpersonal Conflict (Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum, 1990) 79–102; cf. Charles S. Carver, Michael F. Scheier, and Jagdish Kumari Weintraub, “Assessing Coping Strategies: A Theoretically Based Approach,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 56 (1989) 267–83; Brenda Major, Caroline Richards, M. Lynne Cooper, Catherine Cozzarelli, and Josephine Zubek, “Personal Resilience, Cognitive Appraisal, and Coping: An Integrative Model of Adjustment to Abortion,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 74 (1998) 735–52. 22 Miller and Kaiser, “A Theoretical Perspective on Coping with Stigma,” 79. 23 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 251. 24 To anticipate subsequent chapters: 1 Pet 1:13–2:10 (psychological “disidentification”); 1 Pet 2:11–3:12 (behavioral compensation); and 1 Pet 3:13–4:11 (attribution of negative outcomes to the prejudice of others).
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tion) of outsiders. 25 According to Balch, however, who focuses on the strategy of 1 Pet 2:11–3:12, just the opposite is the case: the author of 1 Peter urges Anatolian Christians to assimilate as far as possible to the cultural mores of the wider society so as not to give offense.26 Elliott has been particularly vocal in rejecting Balch’s interpretation of 2:11–3:12 as “thoroughly incompatible” with his own interpretation of 1:13–2:10. 27 From the perspective of stress and coping theory this alleged incompatibility is to be expected and is properly resolved by viewing these as practical coping strategies that serve the same concrete objective and can be pursued in tandem by someone seeking to cope with the stress of prejudice. 28 Miller and Major follow Lazarus and Folkman in distinguishing between two general types of coping strategies for dealing with prejudice: (1) problemfocused strategies that seek to change the relationship between stigmatized persons and their external environment, and (2) emotion-focused strategies that seek to regulate the internal psychological effects of stigma and stigma-related encounters. 29 Let us consider these two general types of strategies in more detail. Problem-Focused Coping Strategies According to Miller and Major, problem-focused strategies “can be targeted toward the self, toward others, or toward the situation in which the self and others interact.”30 They accordingly distinguish three types of problem-focused coping strategies: (1) strategies that concentrate on the self as the target of prejudice, (2) strategies that concentrate on others as the perpetrators of prejudice, and (3) strategies that concentrate on the situation. I will discuss these in order. Strategies that concentrate on the self. Strategies for coping with stigma that concentrate on the self are of essentially two types: those that try “[to reduce] the applicability of stigma to the self,” and those that seek “to compensate for 25 John H. Elliott, A Home for the Homeless: A Sociological Exegesis of 1 Peter, Its Situation and Strategy (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981); idem, “1 Peter, Its Situation and Strategy: A Discussion with David Balch,” in Charles H. Talbert, ed., Perspectives on First Peter (NABPRSSS 9; Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press, 1986) 61–78. 26 David L. Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive: The Domestic Code of I Peter (SBLMS 26; Atlanta: Scholars, 1981); idem, “Hellenization/Acculturation in 1 Peter,” in Talbert, ed., Perspectives on First Peter, 79–101. 27 1 Peter, 509. 28 Compare the sane, if sometimes apologetic, comments by Miroslav Volf, “Soft Difference: Theological Reflections on the Relation between Church and Culture in 1 Peter,” ExAud 10 (1994) 15–30; cf. Torrey Seland, Strangers in the Light: Philonic Perspectives on Christian Identity in 1 Peter (BIS 76; Leiden: Brill, 2005) 147–89. 29 “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 250–1. 30 “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 252.
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the problems stigma creates in social interactions.”31 The first of these may be attempted by several means. The most obvious solution given this approach is to remove the stigma in question.32 Thus people stigmatized as heavyweight might attempt to lose weight, or a person showing signs of aging might have plastic surgery, or a person with a drug addiction might enroll in therapy. Another strategy, especially if the stigma in question cannot be removed, is to attempt to hide or conceal it.33 Faced with situations in which homosexuality is stigmatized, gay men may choose to conceal their sexual orientation.34 Similarly, women who have had abortions are often careful to hide this fact. 35 A special type of concealment is commonly called “passing.” So, for example, in certain social situations light-skinned persons of African descent may choose to “pass” as White.36 The second strategy concentrating on the self is “compensation.” Miller and Major define compensation as “a coping response in which stigmatized persons alter their behavior so that they achieve their interaction goals despite the fact that the people with whom they are interacting are prejudiced against them.”37 Compensation can take many forms. Stigmatized persons may simply try harder or “go the extra mile,” putting more effort into relationships to make up for the social distance created by their stigma.38 A stigmatized person might also activate latent social skills or cultivate new ones, such as humor, preemptive friendliness, or patience, to ease a problematic social encounter.39 A special form of compensation is the cultivation of bicultural skills, sometimes called “code switching.” Here a person temporarily adopts elements of the dominant culture
31
Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 252–3. Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 252–3. 33 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 253; Goffmann, Stigma, 41–104, refers to this general strategy as “information control”; cf. Diane M. Quinn, “Concealable Versus Conspicuous Stigmatized Identities,” in Levin and van Laar, Stigma and Group Inequality, 83–103. 34 Steve W. Cole, Margaret E. Kemeny, and Shelley E. Taylor, “Social Identity and Physical Health: Accelerated HIV Progression in Rejection-Sensitive Gay Men,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 72 (1997) 320–35. 35 Brenda Major and Richard H. Gramzow, “Abortion as Stigma: Cognitive and Emotional Implications of Concealment,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 77 (1999) 735–34. 36 Goffmann, Stigma, 73–91. 37 “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 253. Cf. Carol T. Miller and Anna M. Myers, “Compensating for Prejudice: How Heavyweight People (and Others) Control Outcomes Despite Prejudice,” in Swim and Stangor, eds., Prejudice: The Target’s Perspective, 191–218. 38 Miller and Myers, “Compensating for Prejudice,” 204–5. 39 Miller and Myers, “Compensating for Prejudice,” 205–6; cf. Carol T. Miller, Esther D. Rothblum, Diane Felicio, and Pamela Brand, “Compensating for Stigma: Obese and Nonobese Women’s Reactions to Being Visible,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 21 (1995) 1093–1106. 32
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so as not to trigger prejudice.40 In some cases dominant cultural elements can be permanently adopted and a degree of acculturation results.41 Another important form of compensation is to modify one’s behavior in order to disconfirm dominant group stereotypes. This can occur at two levels. At a personal or individual level one might act so as to distinguish herself or himself from the stigmatized group, saying in effect that she or he is not like the other members of the group.42 But one might also seek to disconfirm stereotypes at a group level.43 Here one acts not as an individual but as a representative of the group, attempting to communicate that neither she or he nor other members of the group are as they have been characterized.44 The point here is not to remove the stigma, but to act in such a way as to falsify oppressive stereotypes attaching to it.45 I shall argue below that behavioral compensation is in view in 1 Pet 2:11–3:12, where Christians are urged to adjust their behavior to reflect dominant cultural values, “for it is the will of God that by doing right you should silence the ignorance of the foolish” (1 Pet 2:15). Strategies that concentrate on others. People can also cope with stigma and prejudice by seeking to change others, or to at least to limit another’s potential to act out his or her prejudice.46 The most obvious strategy here is education and/or persuasion. Miller and Major adduce various civil rights and gay rights campaigns as examples of this. They also point to recent efforts to argue that certain stigmatizing conditions are genetic (homosexuality) or are due to illness 40 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 253, following the work of Emily P. Agerton and Michael J. Moran, “Effects of Race and Dialect of Examiner on Language Samples Elicited from Southern African American Preschoolers,” Journal of Childhood Communication Disorders 16 (1995) 25–30; Brenda L. Townsend, “Social Friendships and Networks among African American Children and Youth,” in Luanna H. Meyer, HyunSook Park, Marquita Grenor-Sheyer, Ilene S. Schwartz and Beth Harry, eds., Making Friends: The Influence of Culture and Development (Baltimore: Brookes, 1998) 225–241; William E. Cross and Linda Strauss, “The Everyday Functions of African American Identity,” in Swim and Stangor, eds., Prejudice: The Target’s Perspective, 273. 41 Karmela Liebkind, “Acculturation,” in Brown and Gaertner, eds., Blackwell Handbook of Social Psychology: Intergroup Processes, 386–406. 42 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 253. 43 Nyla R. Branscombe and Naomi Ellemers, “Coping with Group-Based Discrimination: Individualistic Versus Group-Level Strategies,” in Swim and Stangor, Prejudice: The Target’s Perspective, 243–66. 44 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 254, following the work of Claude M. Steele and Joshua Aronson, “Stereotype Threat and Intellectual Performance of African Americans,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 69 (1995) 797–811; more recently, Cheryl R. Kaiser and Carol T. Miller, “Reacting to Impending Discrimination: Compensation for Prejudice and Attributions to Discrimination,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 27 (2001) 1357–1367. 45 Pliny employs precisely this language at Ep. 10.96.2 when he speaks of “crimes attaching (cohaerentia) to the name.” 46 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 256–7.
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(alcoholism), since among other things this removes personal responsibility for the stigmatizing condition and is likely to elicit sympathy rather than condemnation.47 Of course, certain strategies that focus on the self (e.g., acting in such a way as to disconfirm hostile stereotyping) can serve to educate or persuade others.48 In the ancient context one thinks immediately of the various Jewish and Christian apologists who sought to educate and win over their detractors.49 This strategy of education was also often used by Christians in their defenses in court, though here the effort was misguided and of little effect.50 This is not a major strategy in 1 Peter, however at 3:15 the author does advise his readers to be ready at all times to give a “defense” (ajpologiva) for their faith.51 An obvious way to try to limit another person’s potential to act out his or her prejudice is through legal or political action.52 Here the objective is to enforce or enact laws or to advance certain social norms that make the acting out of prejudice either illegal or socially unacceptable. These outcomes can be pursued individually, but more often they are pursued collectively. Collective action is dangerous, however, in that it can call unwanted attention to a group’s stigma.53 An ancient example of addressing prejudice through group political action would be the Jewish community in Alexandria’s collective appeal to Caesar after the anti-Jewish pogrom of 38.c.e.54 At the individual level one thinks of the frequent appeals by bystanders at the trials of Christians that proper legal procedure be followed – appeals that frequently resulted in the bystander also being condemned!55 Strategies that focus on the situation. It is also possible to cope with stigma by “structuring situations in ways that avoid the problems of prejudice.”56 Certain 47 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 256; Bernard Weiner, Raymond P. Petter, and Jamie Magnusson, “An Attributional Analysis of Reactions to Stigma,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 55 (1988) 738–48; Jennifer Crocker and Brenda Major, “Reactions to Stigma: The Moderating Effect of Justification,” in Mark P. Zanna and James M. Olson, eds., The Ontario Symposium. Volume 7: The Psychology of Prejudice (Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum, 1994) 289–314. 48 For example, by acting so as to disconfirm a stereotype, one might persuade a potential perpetrator that the stereotype in question is incorrect. 49 Here see esp., Edwards, et al., eds., Apologetics in the Roman Empire and the texts discussed there. 50 See Ste. Croix, “Why Were the Early Christians Persecuted?” 19, who cites Mart. Scil. 4–7. 51 The emphasis here lies not on the defense itself, but the manner in which it is delivered, meta; prau?tato~ kai; fovbou so as to maintain a “good conscience” (suneivdhsi~ ajgaqhv). See the discussion below in chapter 9. 52 Miller and Major, “Coping with Prejudice and Stigma,” 256–7. 53 Miller and Major, “Coping with Prejudice and Stigma,” 257. 54 Thus Philo’s In Flaccum and Legatio ad Gaium and Claudius’s famous edict(s) apud Jos., Ant. 19.280–85 and CPJ 2.153 (with discussion in Schäfer, Judeophobia, 138–52). 55 E.g., Just., 2 Apol. 2, the so-called Martyrdom of Ptolemaeus and Lucius. 56 Miller and Major, “Coping with Prejudice and Stigma,” 255; for a general discussion of
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contexts render one’s stigma more salient and thus as it were invite the prejudice of others.57 Fast-food restaurants and beaches are such places for heavyweight people.58 Certain conservative religious groups are unwelcoming of gays and lesbians, mixed-race marriages, divorced persons, or women who have had abortions. One way of coping with prejudice is to avoid such places.59 According to Mart. Ludg. (= Eus., Hist. eccl.) 5.1.5, the Christians of Lyon avoided such public places as “baths and the public square” (balneivwn kai; ajfora'~). It is also possible, in certain settings, to identify and avoid prejudiced people.60 One can also avoid certain activities that are connected with prejudice. For example, a woman might avoid being the secretary for a meeting, since this may evoke traditional roles.61 One might also choose to avoid groups where the non-stigmatized dominate and where one may therefore be regarded as a “token.”62 In addition to avoiding contexts where prejudice is likely, one can also seek positive settings in which one may find active support.63 This is obviously the basis for “support groups,” but it also accounts for various social groups and other voluntary associations. Schools and colleges catering to certain religious and racial groups are attractive, among other reasons, because of they provide this sense of safety from prejudice, and certain ethnic neighborhoods continue to be attractive for this reason.64 In the ancient context, it is clear that Jewish families often lived in proximity to each other, and this might have been the case also in certain early Christian communities. 65 The expansive role of churches in the role situations in regard to social stigma, see Jennifer Crocker and Diane M. Quinn, “Social Stigma and the Self: Meanings, Situations, and Self-Esteem,” in Heatherton, et al., eds., The Social Psychology of Stigma, 153–183; cf. Goffman, Stigma, 102–4. 57 Swim et al., “Experiencing Everyday Prejudice and Discrimination,” 38–42. 58 Miller and Major, “Coping with Prejudice and Stigma,” 255, citing Anna M. Myers, “Fat, Stigma, and Coping: Relation to Mental Health Symptoms, Body-Image, and SelfEsteem” (Ph.D. diss., University of Vermont, 1998). 59 Swim et al., “Experiencing Everyday Prejudice and Discrimination,” 40. Allowing that all pre-Decian persecutions were outbreaks of local prejudice, Christians who fled were in effect employing this technique of avoiding situations were extreme prejudice was likely to occur. 60 E.g., Jean W. Adams, Janet L. Kottke, and Janet S. Padgitt, “Sexual Harassment of University Students,” Journal of College Student Personnel 24 (1983) 484–90, who note that female students often seek to avoid classes with professors reputed to have made sexual advances to students (cited by Swim et al., “Experiencing Everyday Prejudice and Discrimination” 41); cf. Louise F. Fitzgerald, Suzanne Swan, and Karla Fischer, “Why Didn’t She Just Report Him?: The Psychological and Legal Implications of Women’s Responses to Sexual Harassment,” Journal of Social Issues 51 (1995) 117–135. 61 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 255. 62 Lauri L. Cohen and Janet K. Swim, “The Differential Effect of Gender Ratios on Women and Men: Tokenism, Self-Confidence, and Expectations,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 21 (1995) 876–84. 63 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 255–6. 64 See Simpson and Yinger, Racial and Cultural Minorities. 65 On Jewish neighborhoods in Rome in the first century, see Lampe, From Paul to Valen-
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the first few centuries, uncharacteristic of most ancient voluntary associations, will have been due in part to the need for social support.66 Emotion-Focused Coping Strategies Whereas problem-focused coping strategies seek to change the relationship between stigmatized persons and their external environment, emotion-focused strategies seek to regulate the internal psychological effects of stigma and stigma-related outcomes. Miller and Major identify three types of emotionfocused coping strategies: (1) strategies that involve social comparisons, (2) strategies that involve the attribution of negative outcomes (assigning cause or “blame” as it were), and (3) strategies that involve a restructuring of one’s selfconcept.67 I will consider these in order. Strategies involving social comparison. Stigmatized persons may seek to regulate the internal psychological effects of their predicament by manipulating relevant social comparisons.68 These comparisons are of essentially two types: (1) personal identity comparisons in which one compares oneself to other individuals, and (2) social identity comparisons in which one compares one’s social group to other social groups.69 In terms of the former (personal identity comparisons), stigmatized persons almost always have the option to reject unfavorable comparisons with advantaged outgroup members (so-called “upward comparisons”) on the grounds that such comparisons are unfair and therefore illegitimate. They may then choose to make more favorable comparisons either with members of their own ingroup, where they are apt to fare equally well, or with members of an even more severely disadvantaged outgroup (“downward comparisons”), where they will almost certainly fare better. 70 It is, of course, possible that comparisons within one’s own group may also be unfavorable, but this does not tend to injure one’s self-esteem. On the contrary, it just as often enhances it, since the person chosen for comparison is a “similar other,” and one can therefore “bask in [his or her] reflected glory.”71 It has also been shown that tinus, 38–40. According to Philo, Leg. ad Gaium, 155 and Juv., Sat. 3.12–16, Jews lived in the Trastevere and in the damp lowland along the Via Appia near the Porta Capena. For Jews banding together, see Cic., Flac. 28.66. See further, Romano Penna, “Les Juifs à Rome au temps de l’Apôtre Paul,” NTS 28 (1982) 321–47. 66 E.g., Lucian, Peregr. 11–16. 67 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 357–60. There is a fuller discussion in Crocker, et al., “Social Stigma,” 521–31, for which I rely in the following summary. 68 Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” 524. 69 Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” 524. 70 Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” 524–6. 71 Rebecca L. Collins, “For Better or Worse: The Impact of Upward Social Comparisons on Self-Evaluations,” Psychological Bulletin 119 (1996) 51–69; Abraham Tesser, Murray Millar, and Janet Moore, “Some Affective Consequences of Social Comparison and Reflection Processes: The Pain and Pleasure of Being Close,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychol-
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in certain cases where suitable comparison targets cannot be found, these targets may be imagined even when they do not exist.72 Stigmatized persons may also seek to make strategic social identity comparisons.73 According to Social Identity Theory, people derive a significant sense of themselves, their “social identity,”74 from the comparisons they make between their social group and other groups.75 It follows that persons regularly confronting prejudice can respond adaptively by engaging in creative or selective social group comparisons. Empirical studies confirm this and indicate that those who choose to cope with prejudice by social group comparison adopt two basic strategies: selective social comparison and actively construed social comparison. The first of these strategies is straightforward and follows the pattern already observed in personal identity comparisons: members of a stigmatized group reject upward comparisons with the socially dominant outgroup in favor of downward comparisons with other stigmatized groups. Various rationalizing arguments are adduced in support of this. But sometimes comparisons with those more socially advantaged are unavoidable. At this point the second strategy of actively construing one’s social comparisons may be employed. Again there are two options. One may, on the one hand, continue to compare oneself “upwardly” to the non-stigmatized but in some way alter the terms of comparison: “They may have more power than we do, but we are much more accepting of others than they are.”76 Or to take an example from ancient apocalypticism: “They may be first now and we may be last, but ‘the last shall be first’ in the world to come.” Or even more relevant to 1 Peter: “They may be privileged in the eyes of others, but we are a ‘chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation’ in the eyes of God.”77 On the other hand, one may retain both the upward comparison with the non-stigmatized group and ogy 54 (1988) 49–61. Ethnic and religious minorities typically have their “heroes” who raise the social self-esteem of their respective social groups. Early Christian martyrs and later legends of saints will have served this function in the cult’s bid for status and recognition. 72 Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” 526, citing Shelley W. Taylor, Joanne V. Wood, and Rosemary R. Lichtman, “It Could Be Worse: Selective Evaluation As a Response to Victimization,” Journal of Social Issues 39 (1983) 19–40; Joanne V. Wood, Shelley W. Taylor, and Rosemary R. Lichtman, “Social Comparison in Adjustment to Breast Cancer,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 49 (1985) 1169–1183. Of course, the thought “it could be worse” is a common topos in ancient consolation. 73 Crocker, et al., “Social Stigma,: 526–8. 74 Henri Tajfel, Human Groups and Social Categories (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981) 225, defines “social identity” as “that part of an individual’s self-concept that derives from his knowledge of his membership of a social group (or groups) together with the value and emotional significance attached to that membership.” 75 See esp. Tajfel and Turner, “The Social Identity Theory of Intergroup Behavior.” 76 This strategy appears to underlie much of the letter of James; cf. Jas 2:5: oujc oJ qeo;~ ejxelexato tou;~ ptwcou;~ tw`/ kovsmw/ plousivou~ ejn pivstei ktl. 77 1 Pet 2:4–10.
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the original terms of comparison but change the value of the latter: “Being Black is not a stigma; Black is beautiful.”78 Early Christians appear to have followed this latter strategy extensively, not least when they made the crucifixion of Jesus not a point of shame but of pride. David Horrell has recently argued, convincingly to my mind, that this process also underlies the transformation of the originally derogatory term Christianus/Cristianov~ into a term of honor.79 Thus 1 Pet 4:16: eij dev [ti~ uJmw`n pavscoi] wJ~ Cristianov~, mh; aijscunevsqw.80 Strategies involving attribution. When confronted with negative outcomes in their daily experience, stigmatized persons face what researchers call “attributional ambiguity.”81 Negative outcomes can, of course, almost always be attributed to the stigmatized person’s own poor performance. But in most cases they can also be attributed to the prejudice of others or to various forms of institutional bias. Attributional models of emotion82 suggest that when negative outcomes are attributed to external factors they have less impact on a person’s feelings and sense of self than when they are attributed to internal factors. Crocker and Major have shown that this also applies in the case of prejudice, where stigmatized persons faced with negative outcomes in their daily lives can choose to protect their sense of self by blaming those outcomes on the external factors of prejudice and discrimination rather than on the internal factor of their own performance.83 The readiness to attribute negative outcomes to the prejudice of others varies depending upon whether the outcomes are personal or group related.84 Mem78 Henri Tajfel and John Turner, “An Integrative Theory of Intergroup Conflict,” in William Austin and Stephen Worchel, eds., The Social Psychology of Intergroup Relations (Monterey, California: Brooks/Cole, 1979) 42–43. 79 “The Label Cristianov~”; idem, “Leiden als Diskriminierung und Martyrium.” 80 I will return to this important text in chapter 10 below. 81 See here esp. Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem”; cf. Jennifer Crocker, Beth Cornwell, and Brenda Major, “The Stigma of Overweight: Affective Consequences of Attributional Ambiguity,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 64 (1993) 60–70. 82 Bernard Weiner, “An Attributional Theory of Achievement Motivation and Emotion,” Psychological Review 92 (1985) 548–73; idem, “Attribution, Emotion and Action,” in Richard M. Sorrentino and E. Tory Higgins, eds., Handbook of Motivation and Cognition. Volume 1: Foundations of Social Behavior (New York: Guilford Press, 1986) 281–312; cf. Bernard Weiner, Raymond P. Perry, and Jamie Magnusson, “An Attributional Analysis of Reactions to Stigmas,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 55 (1988) 738–48. More generally, Edward E. Jones, David E. Kanhouse, Harold H. Kelley, Richard E. Nisbett, Stuart Valins, and Bernard Weiner, Attribution: Perceiving the Causes of Behavior (Morrison, NJ: General Learning Press, 1972); Harold H. Kelley, “The Processes of Causal Attribution,” American Psychologist 28 (1973) 107–28. I discuss Attribution Theory in more detail below in chapter 9. 83 “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem”; cf. Crocker, et al., “The Stigma of Overweight”; Brenda Major and Jennifer Crocker, “Social Stigma: The Affective Consequences of Attributional Ambiguity,” in Mackie and Hamilton, eds., Affect, Cognition, and Stereotyping, 345–70; Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 259. 84 Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” 522–4.
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bers of stigmatized groups experiencing negative outcomes in terms of their own personal performance show a reluctance, an in some contexts significant reluctance,85 to blame these outcomes on the prejudice of others. However, when those outcomes relate to their social group they are much more likely to blame prejudice.86 Researchers have proposed a number of reasons for this, but one explanation that has been particularly persuasive is the thesis that attributing individual outcomes to prejudice removes a person’s sense of control over his or her life goals and achievements, which powerlessness is itself an assault on one’s self-esteem.87 However, this sense of powerlessness does not seem to apply, or at least to apply so directly, when the negative outcomes in question relate to one’s group as opposed only to oneself. Other explanations have also been offered, such as the observation that it is easier to make a case for discrimination across a large group of people, where a pattern can be established, than for a specific instance regarding a single individual.88 However this discrepancy is best explained, there is a broad consensus that creatively attributing blame for negative outcomes experienced by one’s group is a common and effective coping strategy.89 I shall argue that this strategy underlies 1 Pet 3:13–4:11, where the criticism of the readers for being anti-social is explicitly attributed to the prejudice of former friends: “they are surprised that you no longer join them in the same excesses of dissipation, and that is why they slander you” (blasfhmou'nte~; 4:4), and where the importance of maintaining a “good conscience” (suneivdhsi~ ajgaqhv; 3:16, 21) is emphasized.90 Strategies involving restructuring one’s self-concept. Stigmatized persons facing negative outcomes in a given value domain (e.g., academics, employment, personal relationships) may also cope with their predicament by “restructuring their self-concept” so as not to be vulnerable to these outcomes.91 At issue in such restructuring is the “centrality” in psychological terms of the relevant do-
85 Faye Crosby, “The Denial of Personal Discrimination,” American Behavioral Scientist 27 (1984) 371–86. 86 Already noted by Faye Crosby, Relative Deprivation and Working Women (New York: Oxford University Press, 1982); Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” 523. 87 Donald M. Taylor, Stephen C. Wright, and Lana E. Porter, “Dimensions of Perceived Discrimination: The Personal/Group Discrimination Discrepancy,” in Zanna and Olson, eds., The Ontario Symposium. Vol. 7: The Psychology of Prejudice, 233–55; Karen M. Ruggiero and Donald M. Taylor, “Coping with Discrimination: How Disadvantaged Group Members Perceive the Discrimination that Confronts Them,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 68 (1995) 826–38. 88 Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” 522. 89 The above explanations are not mutually exclusive; though there is general agreement that more research is needed to explain this discrepancy; Crocker et al., “Social Stigma,” 524. 90 See chapter 9 below. 91 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 260; anticipated in Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 616–18: “long-term changes in the self-concept.”
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main to one’s sense of self.92 People who place a great deal of stock in a particular domain, say, academic success, will feel good about themselves when they succeed in that area and bad about themselves when they do not.93 Since, however, valuing a particular domain is largely a matter of personal choice, individuals failing or likely to fail in a given domain can cope by choosing to devalue that domain in an effort to maintain a positive sense of self.94 A person failing in academics may therefore choose to restructure her or his self-concept to value, say, success in sports (“I am an athlete not a scholar”) or vice versa a person failing in sports may choose to shift her or his emphasis to academics (“I am a scholar not an athlete”). The empirical literature distinguishes between psychological “disengagement” and psychological “disidentification.”95 Both intentionally devalue domains in which one’s performance, or the performance of one’s group, is negatively evaluated. However, in the first case (disengagement) the devaluing is temporary, responding to a specific threat, whereas in the second (disidentification) the devaluing has become more permanent and alters one’s enduring set of values.96 I am here interested primarily in the second of these, disidentification, which because it constitutes a permanent reconfiguring of one’s values involves two distinct if closely related actions: (1) the introduction of a substitute value domain97 – it is generally not enough to say to say “I don’t care about X any92 Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 617; cf. Abraham Tesser, “Toward a Self-Evaluation Maintenance Model of Social Behavior,” in Leonard Berkowitz, ed., Advances in Experimental Social Psychology. Volume 21 (San Diego, CA: Academic Press, 1988) 181–227. 93 William James observed this phenomenon more than a century ago: “I am often confronted by the necessity of standing by one of my empirical selves [his term for “value domain”] and relinquishing the rest” (Principles of Psychology [2 vols.; New York: Dover, 1890, reprint 1950] 1:310). He then illustrated: “I, who for the time have staked my all on being a psychologist, am mortified if others know much more psychology than I. But I am contented to wallow in the grossest ignorance of Greek. My deficiencies there give me no humiliation at all. Had I ‘pretensions’ to be a linguist, it would have been just the reverse” (1:310). James’s gross ignorance of Greek caused him to relinquish any pretensions to success in that domain and to stake his “all”, i.e., his global self-esteem, on his abilities as a psychologist. 94 Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 617: “to the extent that individual members of a stigmatized or oppressed group do poorly … they will place less importance on this dimension than will individuals who are not discriminated against or who are not the victims of prejudice.” 95 Brenda Major and Toni Schmader, “Coping with Stigma through Psychological Disengagement,” in Swim and Stangor, eds., Prejudice: The Targets Perspective, 219–41; Claude M. Steele, “A Threat in the Air: How Stereotypes Shape Intellectual Identity and Performance,” American Psychologist 52 (1997) 613–29. 96 Crocker, et al., “Social Stigma,” 528. 97 Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 616–18; Steele, “A Threat in the Air,” 623, following B. R. Hare and L. A. Costenell, “No Place to Run, No Place to Hide: Comparative Status and Future Prospects of Black Boys,” in Margaret Beale Spencer, Geraldine Kearse Brookins, and Walter Recharde Allen, eds., Beginnings: The Social and Affective
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more”; one must also add, “instead I care about Y” – and (2) a substantial restructuring of one’s self-concept or, as Claude Steele would put it, “a re-conceptualization of the self and one’s values.”98 Disidentification is characteristic of groups as well as individuals, which means that under certain circumstances disidentification can produce a distinct subculture.99 This is readily visible in certain groups of adolescents, who since they are denied many “adult” outcomes substitute a variety of other values and preferences, such as clothing, hairstyles, tattoos and piercings, music, literature, and cinema.100 But it can also be seen in a range of disenfranchised groups. Often these values not only differ from those of the dominant culture, but actively reject them. Ogbu calls this process “cultural inversion,” a term he borrows from postcolonial studies.101 I shall argue that disidentification underlies 1 Pet 1:13–2:10, where guided by current apocalyptic ideas the readers are urged: (1) to “set your hope completely on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (1 Pet 1:13), and (2) to adopt a new social identity as “children” in the apocalyptic family of God (1 Pet 1:14–2:10).102
Moderators for Choosing Coping Strategies Given the range of coping strategies that stigmatized persons have to choose from in their efforts to deal adaptively with stigma-related problems, the question naturally arises how one selects a particular set of strategies.103 Empirical research has identified a number of factors that moderate the choice of coping strategies. I will discuss five of these “moderators,” anticipating briefly their Development of Black Children (Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum, 1985) 201–14; cf. Taylor et al., “It Could Be Worse”; Leslie A. Zebrowitz and Joann M. Montepare, “‘Too Young, Too Old’: Stigmatizing Adolescents and Elders,” in Heatherton, et al., eds., The Social Psychology of Stigma, 352. 98 “A Threat in the Air,” 613. 99 Major and Schmader, “Coping with Stigma through Psychological Disengagement,” 237–38. 100 Zebrowitz and Montepare, “‘Too Young, Too Old’,” 351–54. 101 John U. Ogbu, “Minority Coping Responses and School Experience,” Journal of Psychohistory 18 (1991) 433–56. On the phenomenon of “inversion” more generally, see Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance, 166–72; Anuradha Dingwaney Needham, Using the Master’s Tools: Resistance and the Literature of the African and South-Asian Diasporas (London: Macmillan, 2000). 102 Disidentification would seem to be a driving force in general behind much early Jewish and Christian apocalypticism, which commonly entails a great eschatological reversal of values: “The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.” Here compare the suggestive comments by John J. Collins, The Bible after Babel: Historical Criticism in a Postmodern Age (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005) 69–70. 103 Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 618–22; Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 260–62.
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relevance to the coping advice offered in 1 Peter. They are: (1) the time since the acquisition of the stigma, (2) the degree to which the stigma is linked one’s group identity, (3) the degree to which the stigma is concealable, (4) whether it lies within one’s power to change stigma-related outcomes, and (5) the particular social and cultural resources available to the stigmatized person or group. Time Since the Acquisition of the Stigma. Not all stigmas are acquired in the same way or at the same time in life.104 Some stigmas such as race or ethnicity are acquired at birth, while other stigmas such as religious conversion or selfidentifying as gay or lesbian may be acquired much later, and in some cases after a person has lived many years as a member of a non-stigmatized group. It is also the case that some stigmas are acquired gradually, while others are acquired rapidly, with the latter leaving the stigmatized person little time to adjust to his or her new predicament.105 Individuals stigmatized later in life (and especially in cases where a stigma is acquired rapidly) will initially lack the coping strategies available to other members of their new social group and will therefore find it very difficult to cope with the stress of their new stigma.106 They will be in acute need of group support and of the advice available from more experienced group members on how best to cope with stigma-related problems, key elements in their re-socialization. Such individuals will naturally be inclined to use group-based coping strategies and to seek the protection and support of other similarly stigmatized persons. These observations are of obvious relevance to 1 Peter, where many of the readers have recently converted to Christianity.107 They have therefore only lately acquired their social stigma after having been socialized as non-Christians well into adulthood. Their conversion to Christianity is causing problems with their former friends and associates who rightly or wrongly are labeling them anti-social. It is no doubt also placing serious demands on their as yet undeveloped resources for coping with the prejudice of which they are now targets.108 It is easy to imagine how such a group of converts would be in need of the kind of advice offered in 1 Peter, and in particular how the advice given in 1:13–2:10, which among other things seeks to construct a compelling new social identity for the readers and thus to bind them closely to other Christians,109 would be especially appropriate. The advice to “elders” in 1 Pet 5:1–4 to be examples to the flock would also be particularly apropos.
104 105 106 107 108 109
Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 618. Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 619. Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 619. This is implied in 1 Pet 4:3–4 as discussed above in chapter 1. Thus the consolation of 1:3–12, and esp. 4:12ff. See chapter 7 below.
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Group Identity. Another moderator of coping strategies is the degree to which stigma is a function of one’s group identity.110 Members of a stigmatized ethnic or religious group experience prejudice as a member of their group in a way that a person stigmatized for some individual trait such as obesity or physical scarring does not. According to Miller and Major, collectively stigmatized persons are more likely to identity strongly with their ingroup and to draw upon the group for various coping resources.111 They are also likely to be socialized by their ingroup to perceive more easily the effects of stigma and thus to blame negative outcomes on the prejudice of others112 – a strategy we find in 1 Pet 3:13–4:11.113 In social systems that allow for group action, they are likely to participate in collective action to reverse prejudice or at least prohibit discrimination.114 Stigma Concealability. A third factor moderating the selection of coping strategies is whether the stigma is readily apparent to others.115 Persons whose stigma is apparent can attribute negative outcomes to prejudice, since their stigma will be evident in any encounter and is therefore a plausible motive for the actions and opinions of others.116 Persons whose stigma is not apparent do not have this option. They do, however, have the option of concealing their stigma or of “passing” for non-stigmatized. Indeed, with certain stigmas concealment seems to be the norm.117 Persons with invisible stigmas are also less likely to identify with their ingroup or to take collective action where this is possible, since these actions risk exposing their otherwise invisible stigma and thus depriving them of one of their principal coping strategies.118 Ability to Control Stigma-Related Outcomes. One of the most important moderators for choosing coping strategies is whether stigmatized persons feel that they have a degree of control over stigma-related outcomes.119 Empirical 110
Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 260–1. “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 260; again note the group-based coping strategy offered in 1 Pet 1:13–2:10. 112 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 260–1. 113 Esp. 1 Pet 4:3–4, for which see the discussion below in Chapter 9. It should be recalled, also, that research has shown that the stigmatized are much more quick to attribute negative outcomes to prejudice directed at their group than at themselves individually; Crocker, et al, “Social Stigma,” 522–4. 114 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 261. 115 Diane M. Quinn, “Concealable Versus Conspicuous Stigmatized Identities”; cf. Deborrah E. S. Frable, Linda Platt, and Steve Hoey, “Concealable Stigmas and Positive SelfPerceptions: Feeling Better Around Similar Others,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 74 (1998) 909–29. 116 Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 619. 117 Heinrich Tröster, “Coping with the Stigma of Epilepsy,” Psychology, Health and Medicine 3 (1998) 149–62; Major and Gramzow, “Abortion as Stigma.” 118 Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 619; cf. Branscombe and Ellemers, “Coping with Group-Based Discrimination.” 119 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 261–2. In addition to a stigmatized person’s perception of control over stigma-related outcomes, he or she may also feel a 111
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research has shown that when stigmatized persons do feel that the predicaments resulting from their stigma can be altered, then they will typically choose a problem-focused coping strategy, whereas when they do not feel that these predicaments can be altered, they will opt for emotion-focused strategies.120 In other words, when stigmatized persons feel that a specific set of negative outcomes can be avoided, then they will typically change their behavior to avoid these outcomes. However, when they feel that these outcomes cannot be avoided, then they will seek to regulate their emotional response to these outcomes, which is the only viable alternative left for them. Central to this decision making is the stigmatized person’s initial appraisal of his or her immediate situation. In some situations stigmatized persons may decide that they can control for outcomes, while in other situations they may not. Different situations will therefore lead to different types of coping strategies.121 In 1 Pet 2:11–3:12 the author imagines situations in which the readers have some control over their fate and advises active “compensation,” a problemfocused strategy: “for this is the will of God that by doing good you might silence the ignorance of the foolish.”122 In 1 Pet 3:13–4:6, however, a situation is imagined in which things have deteriorated and Christians are being actively persecuted: “but even if you should suffer etc.”123 In this case the author advises the readers to keep a “good conscience” (3:16, 21) and to be clear that the cause of their suffering lies with the prejudice of their accusers: “they are surprised that you no longer join them in the same excesses of dissipation, and that is why they slander you” (4:4). This is an emotion-focused strategy trading on “attributional ambiguity,” the fact that persons targeted for prejudice can trace their suffering to the prejudice of others.124 When all else fails, the author of 1 Peter advises, Christians can at least suffer with a “good conscience,” convinced that they are not to blame for the problems at hand.125 sense of control over the stigmatizing condition itself. For example, an overweight person may feel that he or she can loose weight. In cases like this the stigmatized person might decide to cope by attempting to remove the stigmatizing condition itself. Cf. Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 252–3. 120 E.g., Paul M. Kohn, “On Coping Adaptively With Daily Hassles,” in Moshe Zeidner and Norman S. Endler, eds., Handbook of Coping (New York: John Wiley, 1996) 181–201; Susan Folkman, Richard S. Lazarus, Rand J. Gruen, and Anita DeLongis, “Appraisal, Coping, Health Status, and Psychological Symptoms,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 50 (1986) 571–79. 121 Brenda Major, “New Perspectives on Stigma and Psychological Well-Being,” in Levin and van Laar, Stigma and Group Inequality, 193–210; Major et al., “Prejudice and SelfEsteem.” 122 1 Pet 2:15; cf. 2:12; 3:1 (see the discussion below in chapter 8). 123 1 Pet 3:14a. 124 See my discussion below in chapter 9. 125 Other benefits also accrue: “blessedness” (3:14; cf. 4:14); “ceasing from sin” (4:1). See my discussion below in chapters 9 and 10.
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Available Cultural Resources. I wish to propose a final moderator that I have not found discussed in the social psychological literature but that will be obvious to any cultural critic: namely, the pre-existing cultural resources that stigmatized persons bring with them to their experience of stigma and prejudice. My point is that stigmatized persons do not invent their coping responses ex nihilo, but rather draw upon the various resources already available to them not only in their particular group but in their larger social and cultural contexts. For example, when a young African American man decides to cope with stereotyping about his likely performance in school by disidentifying with academic achievement and focusing instead on, say, sports,126 this is possible only because sports already plays an important role in the larger culture. Similarly, when the author of 1 Peter advises his readers to cope with anti-Christian prejudice by disidentifying with the present evil age and setting their hope fully on the grace to be brought to them at the revelation of Christ (1:13), this particular strategy is made possible only by broader cultural resources, including in this case a certain theological understanding of the world. One of the primary tasks of the present study is to attend to the role these broader ancient cultural resources play in the coping advice in 1 Peter, while at the same time remaining cognizant of the various types of coping strategies identified by modern social psychologists.
The Costs and Consequences of Coping Coping brings with it certain costs and consequences which stigmatized persons must take into account when deciding how best to respond to stigmarelated threats.127 These liabilities are of several types, of which I mention four: (1) the strain that will be placed upon personal resources, (2) the restriction that will be placed on one’s opportunities, (3) the possible damage that might be caused to various relationships (including exposing oneself to further criticism and reprisal), and (4) the fact that certain forms of coping will cut oneself off from constructive criticism and feedback.128 In discussing these I will pay spe126
Major and Schmader, “Coping with Prejudice Through Psychological Disengage-
ment.” 127 E.g., Cheryl R. Kaiser and Carol T. Miller, “A Stress and Coping Perspective on Confronting Sexism,” Psychology of Women Quarterly 28 (2004) 168–78. The cost of coping has also been a topic of study by stress and coping theorists: Stephen J. Lepore and Gary W. Evans, “Coping with Multiple Stressors in the Environment,” in Zeidner and Endler, eds., Handbook of Coping, 350–77, esp. 362–69; Sheldon Cohen, “Aftereffects of Stress on Human Performance and Social Behavior: A Review of Research and Theory,” Psychological Bulletin 88 (1980) 82–108. 128 Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 622–23; Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 262–65; Miller, “Social Psychological Perspectives on Cop-
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cial attention to how these potential liabilities will have affected early Christians both consciously in their choices of coping strategies and unconsciously in the various consequences these strategies will have produced as a matter of course. Perhaps the most obvious cost for those seeking to cope with prejudice is the strain coping places on personal resources.129 For example, individuals who take it upon themselves to “compensate” for the prejudice of others, typically do so by diverting various “cognitive, emotional, and behavioral resources” that would otherwise have been used to accomplish other goals.130 Similarly, persons seeking to remove a stigma, say, the stigma of being overweight, devote time and energy and often financial resources to this project. Persons choosing to conceal a stigma must pay the cost of extra vigilance, which vigilance may among other things result in intrusive thoughts, another cognitive and emotional drain.131 The ever-present fear of behaving in a way that confirms existing stereotypes of one’s group known as “stereotype threat” also requires vigilance, vigilance evident in the early Christian obsession to have their “conduct excellent among the gentiles” (1 Pet 2:12). Over time the depletion of resources can itself become a problem, making stigmatized persons vulnerable to further stress-related problems, such as hypertension, a condition documented among working-class Southern African American men whose active coping style (socalled “John Henryism”) makes serious psychological and physiological demands upon them.132 Certain coping strategies also bring with them the risk of missed opportunity. Stigmatized persons who cope with prejudice by various avoidance strategies are particularly at risk for this. Speaking of stigmatized individuals who retreat to the protection and sympathetic understanding of their own ingroup, Goffman writes: “Among his own, the stigmatized individual can use ing with Stressors Related to Stigma,” 37–9; see also the earlier discussion by Roy F. Baumeister and Steven J. Scher, “Self-Defeating Behavior Among Normal Individuals: Review and Analysis of Common Self-Destructive Tendencies,” Psychological Bulletin 104 (1988) 3–22. 129 Already in Cohen, “Aftereffects of Stress on Human Performance and Social Behavior,” 366–7. 130 Miller, “Social Psychological Perspectives on Coping with Stressors Related to Stigma,” 38–9: “Drawing on behavioral skills to compensate for prejudice uses cognitive, emotional, and behavioral resources that stigmatized people may need to achieve other goals.” 131 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 263; cf. Quinn, “Concealable Versus Conspicuous Stigmatized Identities,” 86–8. 132 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 263. citing the study of hypertension in working-class Southern African American men by Sherman A. James, Susan A, Hartnett and William D. Kalsbeek, “John Henryism and Blood Pressure Difference among Black Men,” Journal of Behavioral Medicine 6 (1983) 259–78; cf. Michael Inzilicht, Linda McKay, and Joshua Aronson, “Stigma as Ego Depletion: How Being the Target of Prejudice Affects Self-Control,” Psychological Science 17 (2006) 262–69.
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his disadvantage as a basis for organizing his life, but he must resign himself to a half-world to do so.”133 Thus, a woman who avoids certain situations, say, at work or at school, because of the threat of prejudice-related encounters, cuts herself off from any opportunities for advancement or education that being present in those situations would have provided. Similarly, the young African American male who “disidentifies” with academic achievement in response to hostile stereotyping obviously cuts himself off from the opportunities that education brings in contemporary culture. It is also often the case that certain coping strategies endanger relationships. This can happen in several ways.134 Stigmatized persons who avoid certain groups of people obviously forgo potentially important relationships with people in those groups. Likewise, persons who shun upward comparisons, or who restrict themselves to ingroup or downward comparisons, also limit emotionally meaningful engagement with certain people. Persons with concealable stigmas who hesitate to reveal their stigma to close friends and loved ones risk harming those relationships.135 Of particular significance to 1 Peter is the kind of mutual stereotyping that occurs when certain forms of inter-group comparisons are deployed.136 It is obvious that the author of 1 Peter does not completely shun comparison with the culturally dominant, but rather seeks to change the terms of comparison to favor his group. But the result is that while he and his readers are “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people” (2:9), their detractors are given to “licentiousness, passions, drunkenness, revels, carousing, and lawless idolatry” (4:3). The damage this has caused is obvious: “… and that is why they slander you” (4:4).137 Persons who seek to cope by openly confronting prejudice are particularly at risk of damaging social relationships. Dominant groups are frequently unaware of their “prejudices,” and even those that are aware of them typically convince themselves that these are fully justified. Indeed, one of the principal functions of stereotypes is to offer plausible justification for negative feelings and actions. Those who speak out publicly against prejudice place themselves at extreme risk, as the often lethal violence directed at workers and leaders in the American 133
Stigma, 21. In addition to the various risks to relationship discussed in this paragraph and the next, there is also the risk to those seeking to cope by compensation of “over-compensation,” which in the end only makes matters worse; Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 263. 135 Quinn, “Concealable Versus Conspicuous Stigmatized Identities,” 84–6. 136 Bem P. Allen, “African Americans’ and European Americans’ Mutual Attributions: Adjective Generation Technique (AGT) Stereotyping,” Journal of Applied Social Psychology 26 (1996) 884–912. 137 Cf. the reaction of the proconsul Saturninus to the Christian Speratus at Mart. Scil. 5: Initianti tibi mala de sacris nostris aures non praebebo, “If you are going to begin maligning our sacred rites, I will not give you a hearing.” 134
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Civil Rights Movement makes only too clear. Such acts of personal courage do often raise awareness and in the end can alter larger social patterns of prejudice. Martyrdom is a bully pulpit. But the individuals making the case are not necessarily themselves benefited. For example, a complaint of sexual harassment in the work place may lead to a drastic decline in prejudice-related incidents, though the odds are good that the person making the complaint will be further victimized or even demonized.138 Early Christians who spoke out against antiChristian prejudice often made themselves public targets.139 Finally, stigmatized persons seeking to cope with prejudice run the risk of shutting themselves off from constructive criticism and feedback.140 This is especially true when they opt to cope by attributing negative outcomes to external causes such as larger societal injustices or the prejudice of others.141 It is, of course, true that stigmatized persons often do experience negative outcomes because of social prejudice. But even when this is so, lines of causality are typically ambiguous and attributions cannot always be reliably made. Sometimes stigmatized persons accept the blame for things that were not their fault resulting in an unnecessary threat to their self-esteem. But other times negative outcomes that were actually due in whole or in part to their own poor performance are attributed to external causes, at which point the possibility for self-improvement is short-circuited. It is easy to imagine that in at least some cases where early Christians were charged with being anti-social they were themselves to blame. The quickness with which they seem to have attributed such criticism to the sinfulness and bigotry of their critics will have done little to help them learn from their own mistakes.142
Conclusion: Coping and Consolation By way of conclusion to this chapter and the preceding let me comment briefly on the relationship between coping and consolation. Coping, as we have now seen, is a complex and broadly conceived human activity that seeks to address both stressful events themselves (resulting in what we have called problemfocused coping) and the various subjective responses these events produce in persons directly affected by them (emotion-focused coping). This breadth is reflected in Miller’s recent definition of coping as referring to all “conscious voli138 Miller, “Social Psychological Perspectives on Coping with Stressors Related to Stigma,” 38. 139 E.g., Justin Martyr. 140 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 263. 141 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 263, 5. 142 For the abuse of the strategy of attributing failure to external causes, see Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 612.
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tional efforts to regulate emotion, thought, behavior, physiology, and the environment in response to stressful events or circumstances.”143 Most social psychologists would accept this or something very much like it as a working definition of coping.144 Consolation, on the other hand – and here I am primarily interested in how consolation was imagined by ancient consolers – is much more narrowly conceived. Here is Cicero’s definition:145 These then are the duties of consolers: to do away with grief root and branch, or to calm it or diminish it as far as possible, or to stop its progress and not allow it to extend further, or to divert it elsewhere.
On this account consolation has as its focus the emotion of grief (luvph, aegritudo).146 Returning to Miller’s definition of coping, we might say that consolation seeks to regulate the emotion of grief, and that therefore consolation is a specialized form of coping. This is precisely the definition of consolation recently proposed by Farraro and Kelley-Moore.147 This raises the obvious question, why call special attention to 1 Peter’s consolatory elements? Why not simply refer to 1 Peter as a letter on how to cope with prejudice, including coping with the negative emotion of grief caused by being the target of prejudice? In other words, why say that 1 Peter contains consolation and coping advice, when consolation itself appears to be a form of coping? This is a legitimate question, and it brings us, I think, to the very heart of my analysis. For if I were only analyzing 1 Peter in terms of modern social psychology, I would be inclined to accept the criticism implied in the above questions and to say that 1 Peter is in fact simply a letter of advice on how to cope with religious prejudice from an early Christian perspective. The problem with this, however, is that this would not be a historically sensitive description, which despite the introduction of modern social psychology is still what I am attempting here. Consolation was a well-defined activity in the ancient world, and it is likely that the author of 1 Peter would have understood his efforts at consolation to be conceptually distinct from the advice he also offers in his let143 “Social Psychological Perspectives on Coping with Stress Related to Stigma,” 27 (emphasis added). 144 Cf. Compas, et al., “Coping with Stress During Childhood and Adolescence”; Connor-Smith, et al., “Responses to Stress in Adolescence.” 145 Tusc. 3.31.75. These four ways of conceiving the consolers task correspond to the Stoic view (to root out grief completely), the Peripatetic view (to moderate grief), the Cyrenaic view (to stop its progress), and the Epicurean view (to divert it elsewhere); these are discussed in more detail in Holloway, Consolation in Philippians, 65–74. 146 Most ancient writers would have classified grief as a “passion” or pavqo~; see Stob. Ecl. 2.90.19–91.9 (= SVF 3.394). 147 Kenneth F. Ferraro and Jessica A. Kelley-Moore, “Religious Consolation among Men and Women: Do Health Problems Spur Seeking,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 39 (2000) 220–34, here p. 221: “as a form of coping with stressors.”
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ter. Indeed, if pressed to come up with a single genre description of his letter, the author of 1 Peter might well have called it a letter of consolation as anything else.148 But that he in fact saw it as a “mixed genre”149 not completely dissimilar to the reading I am offering here is suggested by 5:2: e[graya parakalw`n kai; ejpimarturw`n.
148 A possible analogy for this would be Men. Rh. 2.9, where a speech in which consolation formed only a part – he speaks specifically of “the consolatory part of the speech” (mevro~ tou' lovgou to; paramuqhtikovn) – is nonetheless designated a lovgo~ paramuqhtikov~. 149 Ps.-Lib., Char. epist. 45, 92.
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“Born again to a living hope” (1 Pet 1:1–12): Initial Words of Consolation [Dhmhvthr e[dwke] th;n telethvn, h|~ oiJ metascovnte~ periv te th'~ tou' bivou teleuth'~ kai; tou' suvmpanto~ aijw`no~ hJdivou~ ta;~ ejlpivda~ e[cousin.*
The exegetical part of our study begins with the epistolary address of 1 Pet 1:1–2, followed by the introductory eujloghtov~-period of 1 Pet 1:3–12. My exegesis of these first two portions of the letter will be selective, focusing on the way the author of 1 Peter offers initial words of consolation to his beleaguered readers while at the same time laying the theological foundation for the practical advice he will offer in the remainder of letter. I am especially interested in the thesis introduced in 1:3 that Christians have been “born again” to an apocalyptic hope, which becomes the point of departure for the author’s first piece of advice on how to cope with prejudice in 1:13–2:10. 1 Pet 1:3–12 may be divided as follows: (1) a statement and brief development of the thesis that Christians have been “born again” to an apocalyptic hope (1:3–5), (2) the initial application of this thesis to the current suffering of the readers (1:6–9), and (3) the amplification of this thesis by reference to the testimony of the prophets and the angels (1:10–12). I will comment on these in order. Let me begin, however, by highlighting two important themes introduced in the epistolary address in 1:1–2.
“To the elect sojourners” (1 Pet 1:1–2) I have already discussed several items in these initial verses: the letter’s pseudepigraphy, its original recipients, and its geographical provenance. Here I would like to return to the second of these and briefly consider the theological description of the recipients in 1:1 as “elect sojourners” (ejklektoi'~ parepidhvmoi~). This description introduces two themes that will figure prominently in the
* Isocrates, Panegyricus.
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letter: the readers’ election by God and their designation as sojourners or “visiting aliens.”1 Divine election, as we have seen, plays a central role in Jewish apocalyptic consolation where “the elect ones” quickly becomes a technical designation for the apocalyptist and his readers whose social identity is bolstered by the belief that they enjoy a unique relationship with God.2 In the Similitudes of Enoch, written sometime in the late first century b.c.e. or early first century c.e., election is extended to include the Messiah who as the heavenly representative of “the elect ones” on earth is himself designated “the Elect One” in heaven. 3 Election serves a similar function and is deployed in an almost identical manner in 1 Peter. This can be seen most readily in 1 Pet 2:4–10 where, precisely as in the Similitudes, divine election is predicated both of the readers and their “Christ” (Cristov~). The references to Christ come first and are programmatic: livqon zw`nta uJpo; ajnqrwvpwn me;n ajpodedokimasmevnon para; de; qew`/ ejklekto;n e[ntimon (2:4), and: ijdou; tivqhmi ejn Siw;n livqon ajkrogwniai'on ejklekto;n e[ntimon … livqo~ o}n ajpedokivmasan oiJ oijkodomou'nte~ (2:6–7).4 In both of these texts Christ’s election by God stands over against and nullifies his “rejection” by people and explicitly asserts his value (e[ntimon) in the face of a socially devalued identity.5 The elect status of the readers, who are themselves socially stigmatized as Christians, is affirmed two verses later in 2:9: uJmei'~ de; gevno~ ejklektovn, followed by a catena of similarly valorizing epithets: basivleion iJeravtwuma, e[qno~ a{gion, lao;~ eij~ peripoivhsin ktl. Divine election is thus an integral part of the author of 1 Peter’s answer to the social ostracism and persecution of his readers. The importance of this theme is signaled already in the epistolary address by its immediate rhetorical amplification in 1:2: ejklektoi'~ … kata; provgnwsin qeou' patro;~ ejn aJgiasmw`/ pneuvmato~ eij~ uJpakoh;n kai; rJantismovn ai{mato~ Ij hsou' Cristou'.6 1 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 34, only slightly overstates the importance of these terms: “In diesem Doppelausdruck [“auserwählte Fremde”] ist das zentrale Thema des Briefes beschlossen: christliche Existenz zwischen Aussonderung durch Gott und Ausgrenzung durch die Gesellschaft.” 2 This designation already appears in the Book of the Watchers (1 En. 1–36). 3 I will return to the homology between the Messiah and his followers in the Similitudes of Enoch below. At this point I would simply note that the Messiah in the Similitudes is not a Davidic figure. He is modeled on the “Son of Man” in Daniel and is most likely an angel. His function as the heavenly representative of “the elect ones” no doubt accounts for his title as “the Elect One.” See the discussion in Collins, Apocalyptic Imagination, 183–7; cf. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 145, 154; 4 The latter text is a combination of Isa 28.16 LXX and Ps 117:22 LXX. 5 Cf. Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 35. 6 The theme of divine election informs a number of other texts in 1 Peter. This is most explicit at 5:13: hJ ejn Babulw`ni suneklekthv. But election also lies behind the references at 1:15; 2:21; 3:9; and 5:10 to the readers’ “calling.” Christ’s election is in view again at 1:20: proegnwsmevnou me;n pro; katabolh'~ kovsmou. Further references to Christ as the elect representative of
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The second theme introduced in 1 Pet 1:1 is the readers’ much discussed status as “sojourners” or “visiting aliens” scattered throughout Roman Anatolia: parepidhvmoi~ diaspora'~ Povntou, Galativa~, ktl. The term parepivdhmo~ appears elsewhere in the letter in 2:11, where it is used in hendiadys with pavroiko~, “resident alien.” Elliott has made much of these terms (parepivdhmo~ and pavroiko~) in his sociological reading of the letter, claiming that the readers are literally aliens (non-citizens) in their respective locations.7 This over interprets the evidence. It is enough to understand these terms metaphorically,8 as indicated by the obviously metaphorical use of paroikiva in 1:17 to refer to the readers’ time of sojourning in this world: to;n th'~ paroikiva~ uJmw`n crovnon. This is further supported by the similarly metaphorical diaspora'~ modifying parepidhvmoi~ in 1:1.9 To speak of the readers metaphorically as “sojourners” anticipates one of the letter’s central theologoumena introduced in 1:3: that the readers have been born again to a rich apocalyptic hope. For it is precisely this new birth which attaches the readers to that apocalyptic future that renders them “sojourners” in this world. The metaphor also neatly anticipates the letter’s initial and perhaps principal coping strategy of psychological “disidentification” offered in 1:13–2:10.10 It will be recalled that unlike psychological “disengagement,” which in response to negative outcomes in a particular value domain temporarily rejects that domain, psychological “disidentification” permanently rejects a given domain, replacing it with a substitute domain that promises better outcomes. Disidentification thus entails two operations: (1) rejecting a particular value domain and (2) replacing that domain with a substitute. The concept of “sojourner” (parepivdhmo~) is similarly two-fold: (1) residing in a land that is not one’s own, while (2) possessing a separate homeland where one’s true loyalties and aspirations lie. In the applied metaphor in 1 Peter, the readers’ current residency in Christians include: 1 Pet 1:3, 11–12, 21; 2:21; 3:18; 4:1, 13; 5:4. I will return to this latter theme below. The following texts are also closely related to divine election: 1 Pet 1:6 (devon); 3:17 (eij qevloi to; qevlhma tou' qeou'); 4:19 (kata; to; qevlhma tou' qeou'; cf. 2:15); 5:12 (tauvthn ei\nai ajlhqh'Ê cavrin tou' qeou'); on a closely related theme, at 1 Pet 2:8 the readers unbelieving neighbors are said to be predestined for unbelief: oi} proskovptousin tw`/ logw`/ ajpeiqou'nte~ eij~ o} kai; ejtevqhsan. According to Schrenk, “ejklevgomai,” TWNT 4:195: 1 Peter is “das einzige Schreiben des Neuen Testaments, in dem ejklektov~ von Anfang an thematische Bedeutung erhält.” 7 Elliott, Home for the Homeless, 21–49; idem, 1 Peter, 94 and passim. 8 Paul J. Achtemeier, “Newborn Babes and Living Stones: Literal and Figurative in 1 Peter,” in Maurya P. Horgan and Paul J. Kobelski, eds., To Touch the Text: Biblical and Related Studies in Honor of Joseph Fitzmyer, S.J. (New York: Crossroad, 1989) 207–36; but esp. Reinhard Feldmeier, Die Christien als Fremde: Die Metapher der Fremde in der antiken Welt, im Urchristentum und im 1. Petrusbrief (WUNT 64; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 1992). 9 “Diaspora” is metaphorical, since the readers are clearly not Jews (1:14, 18; 2:10; 4:3); the readers are part of a larger diaspora of Christians “in the world” (5:9). 10 See the discussion of 1:13 in the next chapter.
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this world with its many frustrations is the rejected domain, while their newly acquired homeland in heaven with its promises of rich reward is the substitute: teleivw~ ejlpivsate ejpi; th;n feromevnhn uJmi'n cavrin ejn ajpokaluvyei jIhsou' Cristou' (1:13).11 To present this yet unseen “homeland” as a compelling substitute value domain is one of the principal objectives of the letter. This objective is taken up immediately in 1:3–12, to which we now turn.12
“Blessed be God” (1 Pet 1:3–12) As I have already indicated, 1 Pet 1:3–12 may be divided into three parts. The first of these is 1:3–5, the eujloghtov~-prayer proper, where the author presents his thesis that Christians have been “born again” (ajnagennhvsa~; 1:3). I will examine this thesis in some detail below. But first let me briefly describe the function of the eujloghtov~ or “blessing” formula as it is employed in 1:3.13 The eujloghtov~ (Heb. ˚wrb) formula was common in ancient Judaism and was appropriated by early Christians until it was eventually replaced by the more theologically popular eujcaristw` (Heb. hkdwa) formula.14 Though it is common to treat the latter of these (the eujcaristw` formula) as an epistolary topos based on its occurrence in several well-known papyrus letters15 and then to assimilate the eujloghtov~ formula to this epistolary form, it is more in keeping of the linguistic practice of early Jews and Christians to understand both formulas as liturgical expressions incorporated into early Christian letters with a view to the 11 The language of this “world” and “heaven” that I employ here is the author’s own: ejn tw`/ kovsmw/ (5:9) and ejn oujranoi'~ (1:4). 12 E.g., Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 96: “die Zuverlässigkeit der Hoffnung [wird] plerophorisch umschrieben”; Brox, Der erste Petrusbrief, 67: “Hoffnung … ist möglich, weil begrundet.” 13 A similar formula appears in 2 Cor 1:3 and Eph 1:3; see Franz Schneider and Werner Stenger, Studien zum neutestamentlichen Briefformular (NTTS 11; Leiden: Brill, 1987) 42–47; cf. Peter Schäfer, “Benediktionen, I: Judentum,” TRE 5: 560–62; Reinhard Deichgräber, “Benediktionen II. Neues Testament,” TRE 5:562–4. 14 James M. Robinson, “Die Hodajot-Formel in Gebet und Hymnus des Frühchristentums,” in Walter Eltester and Franz Heinrich Kettler, eds., Apophoreta, Festschrift für Ernst Haenchen (BZNW 30; Berlin: Töpelmann, 1964); Reinhard Deichgraber, Gotteshymnus und Christus-hymnus in der frühen Christenheit (SUNT 5; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1967) 40–43, 64–78; Nils A. Dahl, “Adresse und Proömium des Epheserbriefes,” TZ 7 (1951) 241–64. The “blessing” formula was so common in the Judaism of the Mishnah that it was left to the reader to supply it (cf. m. Ber. 6.1ff.); A. R. C. Leaney, The Rule of Qumran and Its Meaning: Introduction, Translation and Commentary (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1966) 258. 15 The classic statement is Paul Schubert, Form and Funtion of the Pauline Thanksgivings (BZNW 20; Berlin: Töpelmann, 1939); for the recent debate, see Peter Artz, “The ‘Epistolary Introductory Thanksgiving’ in the Papyri and in Paul,” NovT 31 (1994) 29–46; Jeffery T. Reed, “Are Paul’s Thanksgivings ‘Epistolary’?” JSNT 61 (1996) 87–99.
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letter’s liturgical function in public reading in the early assemblies.16 The choice of formula remained somewhat arbitrary throughout the first century, with the eujloghtov~ formula introducing three letters in the New Testament (2 Cor, Eph, and 1 Pet), while some version of the more popular eujcaristw` formula introduces seven (Rom, 1 Cor, Phil, Col, 1 Thess, 2 Thess, Phlm).17 It was typically the case in both Jewish and early Christian blessings that the characteristic action or quality for which God is blessed anticipates the theme of the prayer or hymn that follows.18 The so-called “Instructor’s Hymn” at 1QS 11.15–22 illustrates this well. The hymn, which celebrates the Instructor’s gift of divine knowledge, begins: “Blessed (˚wrb) are you, my God, who opens to knowledge the heart of your servant!”19 Similarly, the prayer of Judas Maccabeus in 1 Macc 4:30–34 for victory over the vastly more powerful army of Lysias begins: “Blessed (eujloghtov~) are you, O Savior of Israel, who crushed the onslaught of the powerful by the hand of your servant David etc.” This practice can also be seen in the so-called “letter of consolation” of 2 Cor 1–9, which begins: “Blessed (eujloghtov~) is God who consoles us in our every affliction.”20 It is in keeping with this practice that the author of 1 Peter uses the eujloghtov~ formula in 1:3 to introduce the central theme of the Christian’s rebirth: eujloghto;~ oJ qeov~ … [oJ] ajnagennhvsa~ hJma'~ eij~ ejlpivda zw`san. 21 16 This is not to deny an epistolary function, nor to deny some precedent in current epistolary etiquette. The balance is struck well by Abraham J. Malherbe, The Letters to the Thessalonians (AB 32B; New York: Doubleday, 2000) 104. On the liturgical function of various epistolary elements in early Christian letters, see Ernst Lohmeyer, “Probleme paulinischer Theologie. 1. Briefliche Grussüberschriften,” ZNW 26 (1927) 158–73, with critical discussion, Gerhard Friedrich, “Lohmeyers These über das paulinische Briefpräskript kritisch beleuchtet,” ThLZ 81 (1956) 343–6. 17 The eujcaristw` formula was also more flexible than the perhaps more traditional and better established eujloghtov~ or berakah formula. Note the following variations: eujcaristw` tw`/ qew`/ (Rom 1:8; 1 Cor 1:4; Phil 1:3; Phlm 4); eujcaristou'men tw`/ qew`/ (1 Thess 1:2; Col 1:3); eujcaristei'n ojfeivlomen tw`/ qew`/ (2 Thess 1:3); cf. cavrin e[cw tw`/ qew`/ (2 Tim 1:3); ejcavrhn livan (2 John 4; cf. Phil 4:10). 18 In addition to the texts cited in this paragraph, see 2 Chr 2:12–16; Barn. 6.10; Ign., Eph. 1.3; Eus., Praep. ev. 9.34. 19 Cf. 1QH 19.27–36 Martínez. 20 This may also be argued for Ephesians, the theme of which is the Christian’s “heavenly blessings,” which begins: eujloghto;~ oJ qeov~ … oJ eujloghvsa~ hJma'~ ejn pavsh/ eujlogiva/ pneumatikh'Ê ejn toi'~ ejpouranivoi~ ejn Cristw`/; cf. Markus Barth, Ephesians 1–3 (AB 34; New York: Doubleday, 1974) 78. 21 The claim that Christians have been born again to a lively apocalyptic hope has two parts, rebirth and hope, with the first (rebirth) being the cause of the latter (hope). It will be important to keep this relationship in mind when we come to 1:13–2:10, where in an effort to persuade the readers to reorient their lives to their apocalyptic hope (1:13) the author constructs a social identity that takes as its point of departure the Christian’s “new birth” into the apocalyptic family of God (1:14–2:10). For now, however, the emphasis falls on the element of readers’ new hope.
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“God has caused us to be born again” (1 Pet 1:3–5) The Christian’s rebirth is a central theme in 1 Peter. It is introduced here in 1:3, but is integral to much of the letter’s later argumentation, especially 1:13–2:10,22 where it becomes the basis of Christians’ new social identity as born again members (e.g., ajrtigevnnhta brevfh) of God’s apocalyptic family.23 Family themes will reappear at 2:17 (th;n ajdelfovthta), 3:8 (filavdelfoi), 4:17 (tou' oi[kou tou' qeou'), and 5:9 (th'Ê ejn tw`/ kovsmw`/ uJmw`n ajdelfovthti). 24 Goppelt suspects Hellenistic influences here and he is no doubt right.25 Rebirth is a concept familiar from the Hellenistic mysteries and certain non-Palestinian forms of early Christianity.26 It is absent, however, in contemporary Judaism, which speaks of an eschatological “new creation,” and even of a radical “cleansing,”27 but avoids speaking of rebirth per se. 28 The author of 1 Peter develops his thesis that Christians have been born again to the blessings of an apocalyptic future by 22 The term reappears at 1:23: ajnagegennhmevnoi oujk ejk spora'~ fqarth'~ ajlla; ajfqavrtou. 23 This is developed by way of five family-related metaphors: “obedient children” (1:14), “a father who judges impartially” (1:17), “genuine sibling love” (1:22), “new born infants long[ing] for pure spiritual milk” (2:2), and not without some violence to the metaphor “a spiritual house” built of “living stones” (2:5). See chapter 7 below. 24 In this last text the family motif (th'Ê … ajdelfovthti) is linked to the motif of being sojourners in the world (ejn tw`/ kovsmw`/ uJmw`n). It is precisely because Christians are members of God’s apocalyptic family that they are sojourners is this world. 25 Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 92–4. 26 Apul., Met. 11.16, 21; Mithras Lit. 508–9, 647, 719–21 Betz; CIL 6.510 (= ILS 4152 = CIMRM 520): taurobolio cribolioque in aeternum renatus; AE 1946, n. 84: (from S. Prisca Mithraeum): pi(e) r(e)b(u)s renatum dulcibus atque creatum; Sallustius, De deis 4; cf. Tert., De bapt. 5.1; Hippolyt., Ref. 5.8.10, 23; Corp. Herm. 13.1, 3, 7 (the thirteenth tractate of the Corpus Hermeticum is entitled “Concerning Rebirth”). In early Christian texts, in addition to 1 Pet 1:3, 23; see John 3:3, 5, 7; Jas 1:18; Titus 3:5 as well as John 1:13; 1 John 2:29; 3:9; 4:7; 5:1, 4, 18. See further, Hans D. Betz, The “Mithras Liturgy” (STAC 18; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003) Index, s.v. metagennavw; idem, “The Mithras Inscriptions of Santa Prisca and the New Testament,” NovT 10 (1968) 62–80; Rudolf Schnackenburg, Die Johannesbriefe (HTKNT 13.3; 4th ed.; Freiburg: Herder, 1970) 178–83; Randall D. Chesnutt, From Death to Life: Conversion in Joseph and Aseneth (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995); Maijastina Kahlos, Vettius Agorius Praetextatus: A Senatorial Life in Between (AIRF 26; Rome: Institutum Romanum Finlandiae, 2002) esp. ch. 4.3. 27 E.g., 1QH 11.21 Martinez: “[My] depraved spirit you have purified [htrhf].” 28 The exception that proves the rule is, of course, Philo, QE 2.46 (deutevra gevnesi~); cf. Vit. Mos. 2.69–70. For a discussion see Peter Borgen, “The Gospel of John and Hellenism: Some Observations,” in R. Alan Culpepper and C. Clifton Black, eds., Exploring the Gospel of John: In Honor of D. Moody Smith (Louisville: Westminster, 1996) 98–123. Later rabbinic texts do speak of Sinai as rebirth, but this is the birth of the nation not an individual in conversion (e.g., Cant. Rab. 8.2; Exod. Rab. 30.5); for discussion, see Erik Sjöberg, “Wiedergeburt und Neuschöpfung im palästinischen Judentum,” ST 4 (1951/2) 44–85; idem, “Neuschöpfung in den Toten-Meer-Rollen,” ST 9 (1956) 131–36; cf. Edmund Stein, “Der Begriff der palingenesie im Talmudischen Schrifttum,” MGWJ 83, N.F. 47 (1939) 194–205. New creation could itself be used as a synonym for rebirth in the mysteries: AE 1946, n. 84.11
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means of three prepositional phrases, each of which begins with the preposition eij~ and modifies the participle ajnagennhvsa~: (1) eij~ ejlpivda zw`san ktl., (2) eij~ klhronomivan a[fqarton ktl., and (3) eij~ swthrivan eJtoivmhn ajpokalufqh'nai ktl.29 Let me comment briefly on each of these. According to 1 Pet 1:3 God has caused Christians to be born again to “a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (oJ qeov~ … ajnagennhvsa~ hJma'~ eij~ ejlpivda zw`san di j ajnastavsew~ jIhsou' Cristou' ejk nekrw`n).30 The author is concerned to demonstrate the credibility of the Christian hope, which he describes here as “living” (zw`san).31 One thinks immediately of the “better hope” (spes melior) or “sweeter hope” (hJdivwn ejlpiv~) of the mysteries,32 initiation into which was, as we have already noted, also described as new birth.33 Here in 1 Pet 1:3 the accomplished resurrection of Christ is adduced to render more real, to “vivify,” the traditional Jewish apocalyptic (creatum); cf. Jos. Asen. 15.4: “From today you will be made new, and refashioned, and given new life.” 29 This is an impressive instance of amplificatio and indicates the centrality of the topic of new birth in 1 Peter. The third of these phrases (eij~ swthrivan) is ambiguous and performs a kind of double duty. Strictly speaking it should probably be read as the object of frouroumevnou~. Ad sensum, however, it also forms the third ei'~-phrase (after eij~ ejlpivda and eij~ klhronomivan) modifying ajnagennhvsa~. For purposes of analysis here I separate it as a distinct third topic. 30 It is ambiguous grammatically whether di j ajnastavsew~ Ij hsou' Cristou' ejk nekrw`n modifies zw`san or ajnagennhvsa~. On the basis of 1:21 (… qeo;n to;n ejgeivranta aujto;n ejk nekrw`n kai; dovxan aujtw`/ dovnta, w{ste th;n pivstin uJmw`n kai; ejlpivda ei\nai eij~ qeovn) one might argue that it modifies zw`san. Christian hope rests on the belief that Christ was raised from the dead and that Christians will also be raised (cf. Rom 6:5; 1 Cor 15:12–28; 1 Thess 4:13–18). 31 “Hope” here is to be understood objectively, “nicht das Hoffen, sondern das Erhoffte” (Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 94, who notes correctly that this reading is required, since “inheritance” [eij~ klhronomivan; 1:4] and “salvation” [eij~ swthrivan; 1:5] are parallel to “hope” [eij~ ejlpivda; 1:3]). This does not mean, however, that the subjective element of hope will not come to the fore elsewhere in the letter: teleivw~ ejlpivsate (1:13): gunai'ke~ aiJ ejlpivzousai eij~ qeovn (3:5); peri; th'~ ejn uJmi'n ejlpivdo~ (3:15). 32 Cic., De leg. 2.36: cum spe meliore moriendi; Isocr, Panegyr. 28: th;n telethvn, h|~ oiJ metascovnte~ periv te th'~ tou' bivou teleuth'~ kai; tou' suvmpanto~ aijw`no~ hJdivou~ ta;~ ejlpivda~ e[cousin; cf. CIL 6.1779 (esp. ll. 38–41) = ILS 1259 = CLE 111; Hymn. Cer. 480–2. Windisch, Die Katholischen Briefe, 53, sees a contrast to the kenai; ejlpivde~ of Sir 34:1 (cf. Job 7:6: ajpovlwlen de; ejn kenh'Ê ejlpivdi), but an anti-pagan polemic is more likely (so Achtemeier, 1 Peter, 95 n. 29); cf. 3:18: e{toimoi ajei; pro;~ ajpologivan … peri; th'~ ejn uJmi'n ejlpivdo~. The hairsplitting so often employed to avoid connection with the mysteries says more about the theological commitments of the interpreter than the theology of the text under consideration; cf. Jonathan Z. Smith, Drudgery Divine: On the Comparison of Early Christianities and the Religions of Late Antiquity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990). 33 To be sure, early Christians claimed that the mysteries offered no hope at all: ejlpivda mh; e[conte~ kai; a[qeoi ejn tw`/ kovsmw/ (Eph 2:12); cf. 1 Thess 4:13: oiJ loipoi; oij mh; e[conte~ ejlpivda. But this is religious polemic and in no way implies that they did not knowingly employ mystery language, or for that matter that their interpretation of their religion was not materially influenced by the theology of the mysteries.
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hope of life after death. The logic – as with Christ, so with Christians – is of course that of the mysteries: qarrei'te muvstai tou' qeou' seswsmevnou: e[stai ga;r uJmi'n ejk povnwn swthriva.34 Because their savior god has returned alive from among the dead (ejk nekrw`n), Christians have a “living” hope.35 However, this logic finds at least partial precedent in contemporary Judaism, where the motif of a divine agent acting as a kind of “structural homologue” for the faithful occurs in at least two Jewish apocalypses.36 In Dan 7:13 “one like a son of man” (vna rbk) is presented as a “heavenly savior figure who represents the righteous community on the supernatural level.”37 Similarly, in the Similitudes of Enoch the “Son of Man” is presented as a “heavenly counterpart” of the faithful and “an ideal embodiment of the hopes of the persecuted.”38 It is also noteworthy that in both of these apocalypses the readers are encouraged, as are the readers in 1 Peter, to find comfort in their sufferings by identifying with their heavenly Doppelgänger. But these parallels, while certainly in the background in 1 Peter, only go so far. For while Christ embodies the present hopes and guarantees the future vindication of Christians, he is also someone who has himself suffered as they are now suffering, even to the point of death and resurrection: Christians have a hope made alive by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. There is to my knowledge nothing like this in the relevant Jewish apocalyptic sources.39 This is a Christian addition made necessary by the death of Jesus, and in this essential development Christianity must be said to find its closest analogy in the mysteries.40 34 From the “Hymn to Attis” apud Firm. Mat., Err. prof. rel. 22.1; cf. Plut. De esu carn. 996C. 35 Cf. 1:21; Rom 6:5, 8. For the contrast between “the living” and “the dead,” see 1 Pet 4:5; cf. Matt 22:32; Mark 12:27; Luke 20:30; Acts10:42; Rom 14:9; 2 Tim 4:1. 36 Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination, 186 (borrowing the term from Gerd Theissen, Sociology of Early Palestinian Christianity [Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978] 121, where it used to describe the role of the Son of Man in the thought of certain early Christians); cf. Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality, and Eternal Life, 70–8. See further, John J. Collins, “The Heavenly Representative: The ‘Son of Man’ in the Similitudes of Enoch,” in John J. Collins and George W. E. Nickelsburg eds., Ideal Figures in Judaism: Profiles and Paradigms (SCS 12; Chico, CA; Scholars Press, 1980) 111–33; James C. VanderKam, “Righteous One, Messiah, Chosen One, and Son of Man in 1 Enoch 37–71,” in James H. Charlesworth, ed., The Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992) 169–91; Helge S. Kvanvig, “The Son of Man in the Parables of Enoch,” in Gabriele Boccaccini, ed., Enoch and the Messiah Son of Man: Revisiting the Book of Parables (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007) 179–215. 37 Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination, 106. 38 Ibid., 186–7. 39 A possible analogy is in the Similitudes of Enoch; but here the Messiah is only hidden with God to be revealed in future glory (Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination, 187); cf. 1 Pet 1:20: proegnwsmevnou me;n pro; katabolh'~ kovsmou fanerwqevnto~ de; ejp j ejscavtou tw`n crovnwn di j uJma'~. 40 Because Christ suffered first and was only afterwards glorified (ta; eij~ Cristo;n paqh-
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This brings us to the second prepositional phrase modifying ajnagennhvsa~: eij~ klhronomivan a[qarton ktl.41 The Christian’s “hope” is here conceived as an “inheritance” in heaven (ejn oujranoi'~). Inheritance was a common topic in Greco-Roman antiquity, where both sons and daughters expected to share in a family’s patrimony, which could on occasion be described as a child’s “hope.”42 Fathers had the right to divide this sum as they saw fit, which fact no doubt lies behind the warning at 1 Pet 1:17 that God is a “father who impartially judges each according to his or her merits.” Inheritance (hljn) was also a common theological motif in Judaism. It was initially conceived in nationalistic terms,43 but in the emerging apocalyptic tradition it was extended to include the future reward of the righteous.44 This is the way the term is typically used in early Christianity, including here in 1 Pet 1:4, where it is in apposition to the Christian’s “hope” (ejlpiv~; 1:3) and “salvation” (swthriva; 1:5b). The phrase eij~ klhronomivan is itself amplified with three expressions: (1) a[fqarton kai; ajmivanton kai; ajmavranton, (2) tethrhmevnhn ejn oujranoi'~ eij~ uJma'~ (3) tou;~ ejn dunavmei qeou' froufoumevnou~ dia; pivstew~. The first of these is a rhetorical flourish consisting of three adjectives beginning with an a-privative and having end rhyme.45 Given the rhetorical nature of this list one should probably not make too much of its elements but focus instead on its overall effect.46 Even so the lexical meanings are not insignificant: the inheritance Christians now anticipate as new born members of God’s apocalyptic family will last forever (a[fqarton), is untainted by the defilements of this world
mata kai; ta;~ meta; tau'ta dovxa~; 1:11), the parallel between him and his followers is especially close. He has left them “an example that [they] might follow in his footsteps” (2:21): “When he as abused, he did not return abuse; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly” (2:23). Similarly, the readers of 1 Peter are not to “repay evil for evil or abuse for abuse” (3:9), but are “to entrust themselves to a faithful Creator, while continuing to do good” (4:19). The mechanism of their future glorification is thus clarified: it is precisely by sharing in Christ’s sufferings that they share in his glory. 41 The prepositional phrase eij~ klhronomivan is in obvious apposition to the phrase eij~ ejlpivda. Thus inheritance continues the theme of new birth: by new birth one gains new family relations and new hope of inheritance. For Paul inheritance comes by adoption (the language of the courts; Rom 8:14–17), according to the author of 1 Peter it comes by new birth (the language of the mysteries). 42 Ulpian, Dig. 1.7.17.3: ne aut illorum, quos iustis nuptiis procreaverit, deminuatur spes quam unusquisque liberorum obsequio paret sibi. 43 Deut 4:21; 12:9; 15:4 and passim; cf. Josh 11:23; 13:6 etc. For Torah as the nation’s inheritance, see 1 En. 99.14; CD 1.15–17. In a late (perhaps Hellenistic) prophetic text the nation itself becomes Yahweh’s inheritance (Isa 19:25). 44 Dan 12:3 Theodotion; Pss. Sol. 14.10; 15.10–11; 1QS 11.7; 4 Ezra 7:17; 2 Bar. 44.13. 45 Cf. Soph., Ant. 1071: a[moiron, ajktevriston, ajnovsion nevkun; cited by Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 96 n. 5; cf. Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 49–51. 46 Cf. 1 Pet 1:2: kata; provgnwsin … ejn aJgiasmw`/ … eij~ uJpakoh;n kai; rJantismovn. Taken together 1:2 and 1:4 show the author of 1 Peter to be a capable wordsmith.
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(ajmivanton), and (somewhat redundantly) will not fade or lessen in value (ajmavranton).47 One is reminded of the dominical saying of Matt 6:19–20: mh; qhsaurivzete uJmi'n qhsaurou;~ ejpi; th`~ gh`~, o{pou sh;~ kai; brw'si~ ajfanivzei kai; o{pou klevptai dioruvssousin kai; klevptousin: qhsaurivzete de; uJmi'n qhsaurou;~ ejn oujranw'/, o{pou ou[te sh;~ ou[te brw'si~ ajfanivzei kai; o{pou klevptai ouj dioruvssousin oujde; klevptousin.
The second and third expressions amplifying eij~ klhronomivan may be considered together in as much as they both invoke consolatory themes from Jewish apocalypticism. The second expression adduces the argument that God has already prepared the rewards of the righteous: tethrhmevnhn ejn oujranoi'~ eij~ uJma'~. The third expression adduces the closely related argument that God is actively preserving the righteous so that they might be fit to receive their rewards: tou;~ ejn dunavmei qeou' froufoumevnou~ dia; pivstew~.48 We have already looked at these arguments in some detail in chapter 4 above. Here I would only note that the author of 1 Peter understands the readers’ “faith” to play a significant role in their preservation.49 Faith is an important theme in 1 Peter where it not only sustains the Christians in their suffering,50 but having been purified by that suffering becomes the basis for their final reward or “salvation.”51 According to 1 Pet 5:9, faith also has certain apotropaic powers: w|/ [= tw`/ diabovlw//] ajntivsthte stereoi; th//'Ê pivstei. The third and final phrase modifying ajnagennhvsa~ is eij~ swthrivan eJtoivmhn ajpokalyfqhnai ejn kairw`/ ejscavtw/ (1:5b). Christian hope may also be described as “salvation.”52 The noun swthriva and its cognate verbs swv/zein and diasw/vzein occur seven times in 1 Peter (1:5, 9, 10; 2:2; 3:21; 4:17, 18). Like “hope”
47
It was a common theme in antiquity that the earth is aging; e.g., Lucr. 2.1150–53. In Judaism see: 4 Ezra 5:50, 55; 14:10, 16; 2 Bar. 85.10; b. Sanh. 98a; cf. Stone, Fourth Ezra, 152, citing Arnoldo Momigliano, “The Origins of Universal History,” ASNSP 12 (1982) 533–60. 48 For discussion the latter point (preservation), see Mark Adam Elliott, The Survivors of Israel: A Reconsideration of the Theology of Pre- Christian Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000) 575–637. 49 Cf. Did. 16.5: tovte h{xei hJ ktivsi~ tw`n ajnqrwvpwn eij~ th;n puvrwsin th'~ dokimasiva~ kai skandalisqhvsontai polloi; kai; ajpolou'ntai: oiJ de; uJpomeivnante~ ejn th/'Ê pivstei aujtw`n swqhvsontai. The verb frourei'n may help to explain what the author of 1 Peter has in mind here. It was often employed in a military context where it meant to stand watch or even to post a garrison, a frouvrion being a garrisoned fort or outpost. The military image fits well the author’s apocalyptic perspective. 50 The fear of failing in times of testing was real (e.g., Phil 1:18; cf. Mart. Perp. 10). 51 Cf. 1 Pet 1:8–9, 21; 2:6–7; 4:19. 52 Cf. Pss. Sol. 15.10–12 where the righteous are also preserved eij~ swthrivan. This theme becomes particularly prominent in early Christianity: e.g., 1 Thess 5:23–24; 1 Cor 1:8–9; Jude 1, 24. Preservation in the final eschatological crisis was initially conceived in primarily physical terms: 4 Ezra 6:5–6; 8:51–62; 13:23; cf. Rev 3:10; 7:3; 9:4. In Wisd 3:1–6 the righteous person is preserved in death: dikaivwn de; yucai; ejn ceiri; qeou', kai; ouj mh; a{yhtai aujtw`n
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and “inheritance,” “salvation” is eschatological (ejn kairw`/ ejscavtw/). It is realized only in the final “judgment” (krivma; 4:17–18), where it is awarded as the result or “end” (tevlo~) of a life of faith (1:9). After the example of Christ, salvation follows a two-step process of earthly “sufferings” leading to heavenly “glories”: ta; eij~ Cristo;n paqhvmata kai; ta;~ meta; tau'ta dovxa~ (1:11). Christians initiate the process by baptism (3:21), after which they “grow into salvation” (2:2). The point being explicitly made in 1:5b, of course, is that this salvation is already in place, “ready to be revealed” (eJtoivmhn ajpokalufqh'nai).53 Here the author repeats for effect the topos already introduced in 1:4b: tethrhmevnhn ejn oujranoi'~ eij~ uJma~. There may be, however, a slight shift in emphasis. In 1:4b the point seems to be that the Christian’s reward is being “kept” (tethrhmevnhn) secure. This would also seem to be the case in 1:5a where the Christian is himself or herself being “guarded” (froufoumevnou~). In 1:5b, however, the point is that this reward is “ready” (eJtoivmhn), which probably means that it is immediately available. In the language of 1:13, which will occupy us in the next chapter, Christ is “bringing” the Christian’s reward with him at his revelation: th;n feromevnhn uJmi'n ca'rin ejn ajpokaluvyei jIhsou' Cristou'. When the end comes, the author of 1 Peter promises, things will change very quickly.54 The net effect of 1:3–5 is impressive, and before turning to 1:6–9 we should take account of it. The author’s concern, I have suggested, has been to create a compelling new value domain for his readers, so that they will be able to accept his advice to “set your hope fully on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (1:13).55 To this end he paints a reassuring picture of the Christian’s apocalyptic prospects: (1) a “living” hope (zw`san), (2) a “sure” inheritance (a[fqarton, kai; ajmivanton kai; ajmavranton, tethrhmevnhn) – for which they themselves are being “securely guarded” (frourourmevnou~) – and (3) a salvation “ready to be revealed” (eJtoivmhn ajpokalyfqhnai). That the author of 1 Peter has put a great deal of thought and effort into these verses is clear from their obvious rhetorical qualities, which include the striking use of repetition: (1) ejlpivda – klhronomivan – swthrivan; (2) a[fqarton – ajmivanton – ajmavranton; (3) tethrhmevnhn – frourourmevnou~ – eJtoivmhn.
bavsano~. e[doxan ejn ojfqalmoi'~ ajfrovnwn teqnavnai … oiJ de; eijsin ejn eijrhvnh; cf. 4:17: o[yontai ga;r teleuth;n sofou' kai; ouj nohvsousin tiv ejbouleuvsato peri; aujtou' kai; eij~ tiv hjsfalivsato aujto;n oJ kuvrio~. 53 The author of 1 Peter makes repeated use of e{toimo~ and eJtoivmw~: the readers are to be poised to make a defense of their faith if necessary (3:15), Christ is poised to judge their detractors (4:5) and God is poised to reveal their salvation (1:5). 54 For the sudden advent of salvation, see also 1 Cor 15:52: ejn ajtovmw/, ejn rJiph/ ojfqalmou'. For the sudden advent of destruction (and salvation), see: Mark 13:15–17; Matt 24:16–18; 1 Thess 5:3 (aijfnivdio~); Rev 1:1; 22:6 (ejn tavcei). 55 Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 110.
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“In this you rejoice” (1 Pet 1:6–9) The author adduces the Christian’s apocalyptic hope in 1:3–5 for practical reasons, and in 1:6–9 he begins immediately to spell these out.56 However, his objective at this point is not, as it will be later, to advise his readers on how to cope with religious prejudice and persecution, but to offer them some initial consolation in their suffering, to which end he has already introduced several consolatory topoi.57 This strategy of offering words of comfort in advance of practical exhortation was, as we have seen, common to ancient consolation.58 In 1:6–9 the author offers three solacia or consolatory arguments deriving from the Christian apocalyptic hope. Before discussing these specific arguments, let me make a few general comments about the nature of the consolation being offered. According to 1 Pet 1:6 the readers are “grieved” (luphqevnte~) by their present hardships. The choice of the verb lupei'sqai is significant. Elsewhere the author speaks of the readers’ “suffering” (pavscein),59 a broad term that emphasizes what is happening to the letter’s recipients. At 1:6, however, he speaks of their “grief” (luvph),60 which focuses on the internal effects of suffering, for which Christian hope offers consolation: ejn w|/ ajgallia'sqe, ojlivgon a[rti eij devon ejstin; luphqevnte~ ejn poikiloi~ peirasmoi'~ (1:6). Again in 1:8: ejn ajpokaluvyei jIhsou' Cristou': o}n oujk ijdovnte~ ajgapa'te, eij~ o}n a[rti mh; oJrw`nte~ pisteuvonte~ de; ajgallia'sqe cara'/ ajneklalhvtw/ kai; dedoxamevnh/. Joy in the face of suffering is a familiar consolatory topos and marks 1 Peter as among other things a letter of consolation (ejpistolh; paramuqhtikhv).61 However, in 1 Peter joy does not replace grief as it would, say, in Stoic consolation theory, where grief is to be eradicated as always irrational, but qualifies or tempers it, as in Epicurean or Peripatetic thought.62 According to the author of 1 Peter, grief is both legitimate and real: it should not be denied and it cannot be removed. This does not mean, however, that grief must be one’s sole response to hardship, for one can mix joy with grief. Plutarch has this outcome in mind at Ad ux. 610E when he explicitly advises his wife on the occasion of his daughter’s 56 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 53: “Ausgehenden von der bewahrenden göttlichen Macht unter geleichzeitigem Ausblick auf das kommende Heil wird nun erstmals die bedrückende Gegenwart der Angesprochenen aus der neuen Perspektive in den Blick genommen.” 57 Most notably the apocalyptic topoi that the rewards of the righteous are already prepared (1:4) and that the righteous themselves will be preserved by God (1:5). I have discussed these topoi above in chapter 4. 58 Ps.-Demetr., Form. epist. 5; cf. Men. Rh., 2.9.25. 59 I Pet 2:19, 20, 21, 23; 3:14, 17, 18; 4:1 [twice], 15, 19; 5:10. 60 Again in 2:19: uJpofevrei ti~ luvpa~ pavscwn ajdivkw~; note that here the relationship between “suffering” (pavscwn) and its internal effects (uJpofevrei ti~ luvpa~) is made explicit. The fact that the suffering is unfair (ajdivkw~) makes it all the more painful. 61 For joy in consolation, see Holloway, Consolation in Philippians, 78–83. 62 Cf. Cic., Tusc. 3.31.75–6.
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death to “mix” (mivxei) good thoughts with bad ones. He repeats the metaphor at De ex. 600D: “Those of us who possess understanding make life more pleasant and potable by pouring good things into the bad (ejk tw`n ajgaqw`n toi'~ kakoi'~ ejparutovmenoi).” 63 This introduction of pleasant thoughts is characteristic of apocalyptic consolation: “Why have you not considered in your mind what is to come, rather than what is now present?”64 But this is only a partial description of the joy the author of 1 Peter offers his readers. For over and above being a calculated mixing of pleasant thoughts and unpleasant experiences, the joy the author of 1 Peter purports to describe is a form of religious ecstasy not unlike the joy described in the emerging martyr tradition.65 This is already suggested in 1:6 where the typical consolatory language of cavrein is replaced by the much more emotionally intense ajgallia'sqai. This language is repeated in 1:8, where the joy available to suffering Christians is further described as “glorious” to the point of being “inexpressible”: ajgallia'sqe cara/ ajneklalhvtw/ kai; dedoxasmevnh/!66 The author of 1 Peter will return to the possible experience of religious ecstasy under the rubric of “blessedness” at 3:14: ajll j eij kai; pavscoite dia; dikaiosuvnhn, makavrioi, and 4:14: eij ojneidivzesqe ejn ojnovmati Cristou', makavrioi, o{ti to; dovxh~ kai; to; tou' qeou' pneu'ma ejf j uJma'~ ajnapauvetai.67 We must be careful, however, not to allow our comparison of the joy envisaged in 1 Peter to the joy of the emerging martyrdom tradition to obscure a significant development in 1 Peter’s treatment of the problem of Christian suffering. For according to 1 Peter ecstatic joy is not only available to Christians in extremis. It can also be a part of their normal experience of suffering in the world. In other words, it can be a part of their mundane or day-to-day existence as a stigmatized group. Here the joy of the martyr at death, a notion that preexists 1 Peter, is read back into the life of the believer who on an everyday basis suffers for his or her beliefs.68 According to 1 Peter, simply to be “reviled for the name of Christ” renders one “blessed” (makavrio~; 4:14). The nature and prerequisites of this blessedness are discussed in 3:13–4:6, and I will delay further discussion until I get to that material in chapter 9 below. However, here I do note that not all suffering by Christians is blessed: Christians who suffer for 63 For the author of 1 Peter, it is the Christian’s “faith” that makes this mixing possible: mh; oJrw`nte~ pisteuvonte~ de; ajgallia'sqe cara'/ ajneklalhvtw/ kai; dedoxasmevnh/ (1 Pet 1:8); cf. 1 Pet 1:7: to; dokivmion uJmw`n th'~ pivstew~; 1:9: komizovmenoi to; tevlo~ th'~ pivstew~ ktl. 64 4 Ezra 7:16. 65 Martyrs are frequently depicted as being in a state of ecstacy during their violent deaths: e.g., Mart. Pol. 2.2: th'~ sarkov~ ajpedhvmoun; cf. Wisd. 3:1–3; Eus., Hist. eccl. (= Mart. Lugd.) 5.1.51, 56. 66 In the context of 1 Peter this “joy” anticipates eschatological realities: 1:11; 4:13; 5:1, 4. 67 See my discussion on these important texts in chapters 9 and 10 below. 68 One thinks here of later “confessors” in the Christian tradition, who were willing to accept martyrdom but who were not in fact martyred.
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anti-social or criminal behavior are not blessed (4:15), nor are Christians blessed who give way to anger in the course of persecution (3:16).69 To be blessed in suffering one must suffer “for the sake of righteousness” (3:14),70 and one must maintain a “good conscience” throughout the ordeal (4:16, 21). Only then can the supervening joy of walking in Christ’s “footsteps” (2:21) be a part of one’s religious experience. Let me now discuss the three specific consolatory arguments embedded in 1 Pet 1:6–9. They are introduced seriatim in 1:6: ejn w|/ ajgallia'sqe, ojlivgon a[rti eij devon ejsti;n luphqevnte~ ejn poilivloi~ peirasmoi'~. First, the current hostilities will be only for “a little while for the present time” (ojlivgon a[rti).71 This is a standard piece of apocalyptic consolation.72 At first it is simply implied in the various reviews of history (vaticinia ex eventu) which place the writer’s own time (and that of his readers) near the end.73 In later apocalypses it becomes an explicit and prominent theme.74 Similarly, according to the author of 1 Peter the present apocalyptic crisis – and that is how he interprets the present hostilities (4:17) – will be intense, but it will only last a little while. It belongs to the present age (a[rti) and will be over soon (ojlivgon). This is his first piece of explicit practical consolation, and he returns to it at the end of the letter at 5:10: oJ de; qeo;~ pavsh~ cavrito~, oJ kalevsa~ uJma'~ eij~ th;n aijwvnion aujtou' dovxan ejn Cristw`/ jIhsou', ojlivgon paqovnta~ aujto;~ kataritivsei ktl. Second, the readers’ suffering is according to God’s will: eij devon.75 The thought that the righteous suffer according to the will of God is a consolation amenable to both Judaism and early Christianity. It is also, mutatis mutandis, a Stoic consolatory topos. Seneca, for example, finds it comforting that human suffering is ordained by divine law: ad hanc legem animus noster aptandus est.76 69
Cf. 1 Pet 2:23; 3:9. Cf. 1 Pet 3:18; 4:19. 71 That ojlivgon has a temporal meaning is clear from a[rti; the expression appears again with the same sense in 5:10. Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 99 n. 35. 72 The analogy with Epicureanism continues to be helpful. Epicurus comforted his students with the thought that suffering was generally of two types: if it was long-lasting, it was almost always mild; and if it was intense, it was almost always of short duration. Thus: KD 4: ouj cronivzei to; ajlgou'n sunexw`~ ejn thó' sarkiv, ajlla; to; me;n a[kron to;n ejlavciston crovnon pavresti, to; de; movnon ujpertei'non to; aJdovmenon kata; savrka ouj polla;~ hJmevra~ summevnei; Diog. Laert. 10.133 (Ep. ad Men. 133): to; de; tw`n kakw`n wJ~ h] crovnou~ h] povnou~ e[cei bracei'~; Sent. Vat. 4 Arrhigetti; cf. Philod., Adv. soph. 4:10–14: hJ tetrafavrmako~: a[fobon oJ qeov~, ajnuvpopton oJ qavnato~: kai; tajgaqo;n me;n eu[kthton, to; de; deino;n eujkkartevrhton. 73 Collins, Apocalyptic Imagination, 64: “The schematization of history [shows] that the turning point is at hand.” 74 E.g., 4 Ezra 4:26, 33–52; 6:20; 14:11–12, 18; 2 Bar. 20.1–2, 6; 48.39; 83.1; 85.10. Cf. Stone, Fourth Ezra, 99, 102–4. 75 Cf. 1 Pet 3:17: krei'tton ga;r ajgaqopoiou'nta~, eij qevloi to; qevlhma tou' qeou', pavscein h] kakopoiou'nta~. 76 Ep. 107.9. 70
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This topos is common in Paul, whose penchant for Stoicism is well know. He employs it in 1 Thess 3:3 to console (parakalevsai) the Thessalonians: to; mhdevna saivnesqai ejn tai'~ qlivyesin tauvtai~, aujtoi; ga;r oi\date o{ti eij~ tou'to keivmeqa. Similarly, in Phil 1:29: uJmi'n ejcarivsqh to; uJpe;r Cristou', ouj movnon to; eij~ aujto;n pisteuvein ajlla; kai; to; uJpe;r aujtou' pavscein.77 The author of 1 Peter returns to this consolatory topos at the end of his letter. In 4:17 he interprets the readers’ suffering as part of the final “judgment” (krivma) of God. In 4:19 he states explicitly that their suffering is “according to the will of God.”78 In 5:6 he imagines suffering as “the mighty hand of God” (th;n krataia;n cei'ra tou' qeou'), which he promises will be lifted soon (ejn kairw`/).79 The third and final consolatory argument adduced in 1:6 is the claim that the readers’ present suffering is a series of tests (peirasmoi'~) from God. This is a common topos in both Hellenistic-Roman and Jewish consolation. Here it is specifically a piece of apocalyptic consolation in as much as the suffering of Christians in 1 Peter is the final perfecting of the righteous in advance of the final judgment (4:17; 5:6, 10).80 Unlike the first two consolatory arguments in 1:6 which are mentioned only briefly, this third argument is developed in 1:7 in an analogy drawn with the refining of gold. Just as fire refines gold,81 so the present suffering refines the “faith” (pivsti~) of the Christian. But whereas in the case of gold the value produced is temporary (tou' ajpollumevnou), in the case of faith the value is eternal, since faith refined through suffering82 results in “praise, honor, and glory at the apocalyptic revelation of Jesus Christ” (1:7), or as the author puts is two verses later in 1:9: komizovmenoi to; tevlo~ th'~ pivstew~ uJmw`n swthrivan yucw`n. 77 ejcarivsqh is an obvious passiva divina; for suffering as a “gift,” see also Phil 1:7 (cavri~); 2:17–18; 3:10. 78 Cf. 2:21: eij~ tou'to ga;r ejklhvqhte, o{ti kai; Cristo;~ e[paqen; 3:17: eij Qevloi to; qevlhma tou' qeou'. 79 So Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 337: “Dies wird ejn kairw`/ … nämlich ejn ejscavtw/ (1,5), am Ende bei der Parusie, geschehen.” 80 The topos first appears at Dan 11:35; cf. Rev 7:14; 2 Bar. 13:1–12; 78:6; in T. Mos. 9 Taxo and his sons purify themselves in advance of persecution. More generally, Pss. Sol. 3.3–4; 10.1–4; 13.6–11; 4 Ezra 7:14: “unless the living pass through many difficult and vain experiences, they can never receive those things that have been reserved for them.” For the theme elsewhere in 1 Peter, see 4:17; 5:6, 10; cf. 5:12; also relevant is the preservation of Noah in an earlier cosmic judgment at 1 Pet 3:21; cf. 1 En. 10.3. Elsewhere in the New Testament, see Acts 14:22: dia; pollw`n qliyewn dei' hJma'~ eijselqei'n eij~ th;n basileivan tou' qeou'; Matt 7:14; 1 Thess 1:6; 3:3–4, 7; Heb 12:7–12. Cf. Winston, Wisdom of Solomon, 127, who cites 2 Macc 6:12. 81 The author here anticipates 1 Pet 4:12: thó' ejn uJmi'n purwvsei pro;~ peirasmo’n uJmi'n ginomvnh/. The testing of 1:6–7 is not to be separated from the “fiery ordeal” of 4:12ff. 82 to; dokivmion uJmw`n th'~ pivstew~: the rare term dokivmion means “testing” but according to Deissmann (Bible Studies, 259ff., cited in Selwyn, First Epistle of St. Peter, 129) is interchangeable with dovkimon which means “tested” or “approved.” Here it probably means the tested portion, that which remains after the refining process.
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The author of 1 Peter’s repeated emphasis on “faith” in 1:7–9 calls for a brief comment.83 He makes two points. First, he claims that “faith” is the specific property of the righteous that is perfected in suffering (1:7) and that it is eventually this perfected faith that will be rewarded (1:9).84 This is naturally a comforting thought. The author of 1 Peter goes on to say, however, faith can be a source of great comfort even before it is perfected by suffering: o}n [= Crivston] oujk ijdovnte~85 ajgapa'te, eij~ o}n a[rti mh; oJrw`nte~ pisteuvonte~ de; ajgallia'sqe cara'/ ajneklalhvtw/ kai; dedoxasmevnh/ (1:8).86 Faith here creates a type of union with Christ – not unlike the union created by “love” – the result of which is the experience of eschatological joy even now in this life. We have already noted the prominence of this theme in 1 Peter, and will return to it in our discussion of 1 Pet 3:14 and 4:13–14 below in chapters 8 and 9. “Concerning which salvation the prophets enquired” (1 Pet 1:10–12) In 1:3–5 the author stated his thesis that Christians have been “born again,” which new birth he characterized as leading to a living “hope,” a sure “inheritance,” and a ready “salvation.” He then paused in 1:6–9 to apply it briefly to the consolation of his readers. Now in 1:10–12 he returns to the thesis of 1:3–5, which he amplifies by expanding on the last of its rubrics: peri; h{~ swthriva~ ktl. His point is to underscore further the greatness of the Christian’s hope as seen in the response to it proleptically by the ancient Jewish prophets (1:10b-12a) and presently by the angels (1:12b). This is in preparation for the practical advice he will offer in the rest of the letter beginning explicitly in 1:13: Dio; … teleivw~ ejlpivsate ejpi; th;n feromevnhn ujmi'n cavrin ejn ajpokaluvyei Ij hsou' Cristou'. 1 Pet 1:10–12 makes two claims: (1) that the ancient Jewish prophets diligently studied their own prophecies which predicted, albeit cryptically, the sufferings of Christ and the glories that would follow, and that as a result of their diligence God revealed to them that their prophecies were actually for a later generation of Christians, and (2) that angels are themselves now clamoring to 83 1 Pet 1:7: to; dokivmion uJmw`n th'~ pivstew~; 1:8: mh; oJrw`nte~ pisteuvonte~ dev; 1:9: to; tevlo~ th'~ pivstew~ uJmw`n; already at 1 Pet 1:5: frouroumevnou~ dia; pivstew~. 84 Cf. Jas 1:3: to; dokivmion uJmw`n th'~ pivstew~ katergavzetai uJpomonhvn ktl. 85 The two participles ijdovnte~ and oJrw`nte~ are noteworthy. The aorist participle ijdovnte~ almost certainly means that the readers had not seen Jesus during his earthly sojourn, while the present participle oJrw`nte~ states (the obvious) that they still have not seen him. In this regard they differ from the fictive author (Peter) who had been a companion of Jesus (5:1). But this does not limit their present relationship with Christ. For though the readers did not know Jesus during his life on earth and though they have yet to see him in his glory, they can still by faith and love experience the joy they will feel when they do see him at his return (cf. John 20:29: makavrioi oiJ mh; ijdovnte~ kai; pisteuvsante~). 86 Cf. Heb 12:1: ejstin de; pivsti~ ejlpizomevnwn uJpo;stasi~.
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witness the present unfolding of these predicted events. These striking claims are made possible by two earlier developments in apocalypticism, the first of which is exegetical and the second theological. A major problem facing apocalyptic Jews who wished to anchor their theology and experiences in the developing Scriptures was how to read non-apocalyptic texts, in particular early prophetic texts, apocalyptically. This problem was especially acute in Jewish sects like the one at Qumran for whom the Scriptures played a central role. It was also acute for early Christians who for various theological and apologetic reasons increasingly sought to ground their own apocalyptic movement in the Jewish Scriptures. To answer this problem apocalyptic Jews (and Christians) claimed that these prophecies contained secret knowledge that was not conveyed in a straightforward or surface reading of the text. They also claimed that this knowledge was uniquely available to themselves in as much as they possessed the interpretive key to unlocking these texts. At Qumran this key lay in the early readings of the Scriptures by the so-called Teacher of Righteousness (qdxh hrwm), to whom God had made known “all the mysteries of the words of his servants the prophets” (μyabnh wydb[ yrbd yzr lwk).87 In early Christianity this key was the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. An early Pauline redactor outlines this hermeneutic at Rom 16:25–6: to; khvrugma jIhsou' Cristou', … ajpokavluyin musthrivou crovnoi~ aijwnivoi~ sesighmevnou, fanerwqevnto~ de; nu'n diav te grafw`n profhtikw`n. According to the author of Luke Jesus himself espoused this hermeneutic: kai; ajrxavmeno~ ajpo; Mwu>sevw~ kai; ajpo; pavntwn tw`n profhtw`n diermhvneusen aujtoi'~ ejn pavsai; tai'~ grafai'~ ta; peri; eJautou'.88 The author of John makes a similar claim: ejrauna'te ta;~ grafav~, o{ti … ejkei'naiv eijsin aiJ marturou'sai peri; ejmou'.89 The author of 1 Peter presupposes this reading strategy in 1:10–12. The ancient prophecies are more than they seem: the prophets who uttered them were inspired by “the spirit of Christ that was in them” (to; ejn aujtoi'~ pneu'ma Cristou'),90 and the prophecies themselves predict “the sufferings for which Christ was destined and the glories that would come after these sufferings” (ta; eij~ Cristo;n paqhvmata kai; ta;~ meta; tau'ta dovxa~). Further, these prophecies 87 1QpHab 7.4; cf. 2.2–10: “The Teacher of Righteousness …, the Priest whom God has placed in the Community, to foretell the fulfillment of all the words of his servants the prophets, by means of whom God declared all that is to happen.” 88 Luke 24:27; cf. Luke 24:44–7. 89 John 5:39. Luke put this hermeneutic into the mouth of the resurrected Christ; John puts it in the mouth of Jesus prior to his death. Some such hermeneutic may lie behind Matt 13:53; cf. Joachim Gnilka, Das Matthäusevangelium (2 vols.; HTKNT 1/1, 2; Freiburg: Herder, 1986, 1988) 1:511. 90 To follow up on the previous note, here in 1 Peter not only does Christ deploy the aforementioned hermeneutic for reading the ancient prophets, he is said to have been the very “spirit” who inspired them.
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were not intended for the prophets’ contemporaries, to whom they were ostensibly delivered, but for early Christians, including the readers of 1 Peter, to whom the Holy Spirit has now given the interpretive key to unlocking these in the gospel hidden prophetic meanings: a}} nu'n ajnhggevlh uJmi'n dia; tw`n eujaggelisamevnwn uJma'~ ejn pneuvmati aJgivw/ ajpostalevnti ajp j oujranou'.91 But there is more, for according to the author of 1 Peter the prophets themselves perceived the cryptic nature of their prophecies and diligently studied them to discern their hidden meanings: peri; h|~ swthriva~ ejxezhvthsan kai; ejxhrauvnhsan profh'tai oiJ peri; th'~ eij~ uJma'~ cavrito~ profhteuvsante~. They were not told the meanings of their prophecies – meanings left to be discovered by early Christians – but “it was revealed to them that they were not serving themselves but you with these predictions.”92 To my knowledge this claim that the ancient prophets themselves sought to understand the apocalyptic nature of their predictions is something new in the tradition.93 It is, however, essential to the author of 1 Peter’s strategy in 1:10–12. For by projecting this interpretive activity onto the prophets themselves he is able to enlist them as witnesses to the greatness of the salvation promised to Christians. In 1:12b he enlists the additional witness of the angels: eij~ a} ejpiqumou'sin a[ggeloi parakuvyai. This brings me to a second theological consideration, which is just as essential to the argument of 1 Pet 1:10–12 as the above exegetical strategy. For it is the author of 1 Peter’s contention that not only did the ancient prophets predict the “sufferings appointed to Christ and the glories to come after them” (ta; eij~ Cristo;n paqhvmata kai; ta;~ metav tau'ta dovxa~), but that in doing this they also predicted the suffering and final “salvation” (swthriva) of his readers. Here we return to the logic of 1 Pet 1:3–5: as with Christ so with Christians.94 The importance of this logic for 1 Peter cannot be overemphasized, and we will return to it again and again in our study: the readers are “the elect ones,” Christ is the “Elect One”;95 the readers are “the righteous ones,” Christ is “the Righteous One”;96 the readers are “living stones,” Christ is “the Living Stone”;97 and so on. 91 For this hermeneutic in action, see 1 Pet 1:24–5, esp. 25b: tou'to dev ejstin to; rJh'ma to; eujaggelisqe;n eij~ uJma'~. 92 1 Pet 1:12a: oi|~ ajpekaluvfqh o{ti oujc eJautoi'~ uJmi'n de; dihkovnoun aujtav. 93 It is, of course, claimed in later apocalyptic writings that ancient seers like Enoch understood that their visions pertained to the final generation, but this is a different matter. So, for example, 1 En 1.2–3: “Not concerning this generation do I expound, but concerning one that is distant I speak. And concerning the elect ones I speak now, and concerning them I take up my discourse.” Cf. Brox, Der erste Petrusbrief, 70; Schutter, Hermeneutic and Composition in 1 Peter, 111; Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 108. 94 Recall, for example, that in 1:3 the readers’ hope is made alive by the resurrection of Christ. See the discussion above. 95 1 Pet 2:4 (Christ), 9 (the readers). 96 1 Pet 3:12, 14 (the readers; cf. 4:18), 18 (Christ). 97 1 Pet 2:4 (Christ), 5 (the readers).
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Here in 1:11 the homology is between Christ’s sufferings (plural)98 and subsequent glorification, and the readers’ sufferings and promised salvation. When the prophets predicted Christ’s suffering and glory, they also predicted the same for the readers of 1 Peter: peri; h|~ swthriva~ [uJmw`n] ejxezhvthsan kai; ejxhrauvnhsan profh'tai.
98 It is striking that in 1 Peter Christ’s suffering (singular = his death) is expanded to “sufferings” (plural; 1:11, cf. 5:1) to coincide with the readers’ sufferings (1:6; 5:9–10); cf. Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 62–3. The homology between Christ’s sufferings and the readers’ sufferings is especially “realistic” at 4:1, where the readers are urged to deploy it to eradicate sin in their lives!
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“Set your hope fully” (1 Pet 1:13–2:10): Coping with Prejudice through Apocalyptic “Disidentification” Signa quae demonstravi et somnia quae vidisti et interpretationes quas tu audisti, in corde tuo repone ea … et renuntia iam corruptae vitae, et dimitte abs te mortales cogitationes*
The author of 1 Peter offers his first piece of practical advice on how to cope with anti-Christian prejudice in 1:13–2:10, where he deploys his thesis that Christians have been “born again” to a great apocalyptic hope. His advice comes in two unequal parts. First, in 1:13 he urges his readers to direct their hope away from the present age where they suffer as targets of religious prejudice and toward an apocalyptic future and the sure reward that will be brought to them at the revelation of Jesus Christ.1 Then in 1:14–2:10 he constructs for them a supporting social identity as “newborn infants” (ajrtigevnnhta brevfh) and “children” (tevkna) in the apocalyptic family of God. The logic is simple: if it is precisely those who have been born again that have an apocalyptic hope (1:3–12), then those who wish to live a life reoriented to that hope (1:13) must come to think and act as born again members of the apocalyptic family of God (1:14–2:10). Taken together this twofold piece of advice is remarkably similar to the coping strategy modern social psychologists call “psychological disidentification,” though from a distinctly Christian apocalyptic perspective. For not only does it serve a similar purpose – to emotionally distance oneself from a value domain in which one continues to meet with disappointment – it involves a nearly identical twofold process: (1) the replacement of the problematic domain with one where there is a better hope of positive outcomes – in this case guaranteed apocalyptic rewards! – and (2) the restructuring of one’s self-concept so as to effectively “disidentify” with the contested domain and to identify with the new one. I will refer to 1 Peter’s unique formulation of this strategy as * 4 Ezra. 1 The sureness of that reward was the subject of 1:3–5; its greatness the subject of 1:10–12; cf. Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 66: “V. 13 verlangt nun von den Adressaten die uneingeschränkte Ausrichtung ihres ganzen Daseins auf das von Gott verheißene Heil.”
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apocalyptic “disidentification,” and I will divide my comments between 1:13 and 1:14–2:10.
Reorienting One’s Values (1 Pet 1:13) In 1:13 the author of 1 Peter restates in the imperative the “living hope” already described in the indicative in 1:3. He writes: Dio; ajnazwsavmenoi ta;~ ojsfuva~ th'~ dianoiva~ uJmw`n nhvfonte~ teleivw~ ejlpivsate ejpi; th;n feromevnhn uJmi'n cavrin ejn ajpokaluvyei Ij hsou' Cristou'. 2 In doing this he moves from hope objectively conceived (das Erhoffte)3 to hope as he wishes it to be expressed subjectively in the lives of his readers (das Hoffen),4 with the former serving as the basis of the latter.5 The Christian’s objective hope is in turn reconceived as the “grace” (cavrin) to be brought at the revelation of Christ.6 As I have already indicated, 1 Pet 1:13 makes excellent sense as a part of what modern social psychologists call psychological “disidentification.” Much as someone might substitute, say, professional activity for social intercourse, or sports achievement for academic achievement (or vice versa), 7 the author of 1 Peter advises his readers to “disidentify” with the here and now and by way of substitute to identify wholly (teleivw~) with the world to come and the rewards awaiting them at the revelation of Christ. This does not mean, of course, that the world to come was not already a part of their symbolic universe, or that they had not in some significant way already identified with it.8 They obviously had. But in 1:13 the author urges his readers to make that future world and its rewards absolutely central to their value system in response to the negative outcomes that they are increasingly experiencing in the present.9 Given the apoca2
Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 110: “1,13 nimmt als Imperativ auf, was der Leitsatz des Vorhergehenden, 1,3, im Indikative als Widerfahrnis bekannt hat.” 3 This is the sense of “hope” (ejlpiv~) in 1:3, where it is equated with “inheritance” (klhronomiva; 1:4) and “salvation” (swthriva; 1:5), as we have already noted. 4 Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 94; cf. 1 Pet 1:21 (w{ste th;n pivstin uJmw`n kai; ejlpivda ei[nai eij~ qeovn); 3:5 (aiJ a{giai gunai'ke~ aiJ ejlpivzousai eij~ qeo;n), 15 (th'~ ejn uJmi'n ejlpivdo~). 5 The relationship between the indicative of 1:3–12 and the imperative of 1:13 is indicated in the diov (“on the basis of the preceding”) beginning 1:13. 6 Cf. 1 Pet 1:10: oiJ peri; th'~ eij~ uJma'~ cavrito~ profhteuvsante~. More generally: 1:5, 7; 4:13; 5:1. 7 See, for example, Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem,” 616–18; Miller and Myers, “Compensating for Prejudice,” 200–205; Zebrowitz and Montepare, “‘Too Young, Too Old’,” 351–54. 8 A student who after repeatedly failing at social relationships decides to devote himself or herself to academic pursuits has obviously already valued academics, but now makes those pursuits a central value. 9 This is what modern social psychologists refer to as “schematizing” a particular value so that it becomes the point of reference for all other values and thus a key element in one’s selfconcept.
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lypticism inherent in most early Christian theology and certainly in the theological perspective of the author of 1 Peter this was a ready-made solution.10 The scope and seriousness of this undertaking is signaled by three adverbial expressions modifying the imperative ejlpivsate: (1) ajnazwsavmenoi ta;~ ojsfuva~ th'~ dianoiva~ uJmw`n, (2) nhvfonte~, and (3) teleivw~. The first expression refers to the practice of binding up lengthy or otherwise cumbersome garments in preparation for travel, work, or battle.11 The metaphor had an important place in Jewish ritual as it occurs in Exod 12:11 (LXX) regarding the Passover meal which was to be eaten in readiness for travel: ou{tw~ de; favgesqe aujtov: aiJ ojsfuve~ uJmw`n periezwsmevnai kai; ta; uJpodhvmata ejn toi'~ posivn uJmw`n ktl.12 According to Luke 12:35 Jesus adduced this text to urge eschatological readiness: e[stwsan uJmw`n aiJ ojsfuve~ periezwsmevnai kai; oiJ luvcnoi kaiovmenoi. It is in this latter sense that the author of 1 Peter employs the metaphor in 1:13.13 Christians are to make themselves mentally ready (ta;~ ojsfuva~ th'~ dianoiva~) for the apocalypse.14 This is a clear case of what social psychologists call active or “effortful” coping.15 The second expression urges the readers to be “sober” (nhvfonte~), a metaphor also employed in apocalyptic contexts. Paul uses the metaphor in 1 Thess 5:1–11, where he likens the present age to darkness (skovto~) and night (nuvx), and the age to come to light (fw`~) and day (hJmevra). Night is a time of drunkenness and slumber (oiJ de; kaqeuvdonte~ nukto;;~ kaqeuvdousin kai; oiJ mequskovmenoi nukto;~ mequvousin; 5:7). But according to Paul’s apocalyptic reckoning the night is almost over and the day is dawning. Paul urges his readers to cease behaving as though it were night and to become “sober” (nhvfwmen) in anticipation of coming day: mh; kaqeuvdwmen wJ~ oiJ loipoi; ajlla; grhgorw`men kai; nhvfwmen 10 Cf. Marx’s often quoted lines: “Die Religion ist Seufzer der bedrängten Kreatur, das Gemüt einer herzlosen Welt, wie sie der Geist geistloser Zustände ist. Sie ist das Opium des Volkes” (from the Introduction to his Zur Kritik der Hegelschen Rechtsphilosophie, 1844). Opium was at this time viewed not so much as a hallucinogenic drug as a pain killer. 11 The different contexts are exemplified by Exod 12:11 (travel); Luke 12:37 and Judg 18:16 cod. B (work); Eph 6:14 (battle); cf. Dio Chrys. 55.2; Achil. Tat. 8.12.1; Nonn., Dionys. 19.73; Polycrates apud Athen. 4.139D. 12 Cf. Philo, Sacr. 63: ta;~ ojsfu'~ periezwsmevnou~ eJtoivmw~ pro;~ uJphresivan e[conte~. 13 The term used in 1 Peter (ajnazwvnnumi) is rare and late. It appears only here in early Christian literature, and in Polyc., Phil. 2:1 (which cites our text); elsewhere in Prov. 31:17 (of a woman hard at work) and Judg 18:16 B (of men ready for battle). The more common term is perizwvnnumi (e.g., Judg 18:16 A: periezwsmevnoi). The Latin equivalent (Polycr. apud Athen. 4.139D) is alte praecinctus. Perhaps the preposition a[na in our term implies not just having one’s belt on (periv), but more precisely having one’s garments girded “up” to facilitate action. The emphasis might then fall more on mental effort than simply on mental readiness. 14 The metaphor was common in Greco-Roman antiquity (Oepke, TWNT 5.302–4); e.g., Sen., Ad Poly. 11.3: In procinctu stet animus et id quod necesse est numquam timeat, quod incertum est semper expectet. The mind must at all times be ready to encounter the full range of possible outcomes so as never to be taken off guard by what happens. 15 Compas, et al., “Effortful and Involuntary Responses to Stress.”
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(5:6), and: hJmei'~ de; hJmevra~ o[nte~ nhvfwmen (5:8). This is the way in which the term is used here in 1 Pet 1:13, and later in 4:7: pavntwn de; to; tevlo~ h[ggiken … nhvyate, and 5:8: nhvyate, grhgorhvsate. Again the emphasis is on active mental discipline and focus, on keeping in mind one’s apocalyptic hope despite present distractions. The third expression modifying ejlpivsate is the adverb teleivw~. It indicates not so much the amount of effort the readers are to exert, which I take to be the point of the first two expressions, as the degree to which the readers are to reorient their values to an apocalyptic future. The readers are to set their hope “fully” on the grace to be theirs at the revelation of Christ. Taken together these three expressions imply an effortful and thoroughgoing transferring of one’s values from this age to the age to come. This type of radical shift in value domains is the essence of psychological “disidentification.”16
Restructuring One’s Identity (1 Pet 1:14–2:10) Psychological disidentification entails a substantial redirecting of one’s values (1:13). But it also entails the adoption of a new identity supportive of those new values, and in 1:14–2:10 the author of 1 Peter constructs just such a new identity for his readers as born-again members of the apocalyptic family of God. For most social psychologists this latter process of identity formation lies at the heart of the disidentifying process, which is essentially an adaptive manipulation of one’s self-understanding. According to Steele, for example, who has done the most work to date on this topic, disidentification lies precisely in a “reconceptualization of the self.”17 Similarly, Miller and Major describe disidentification as a decisive “restructuring [of one’s] self-concept.”18 This theoretical emphasis on identity accords well with the advice in 1 Pet 1:13–2:10, where twenty-two out of twenty-three verses (1:14–2:10) is devoted to constructing the readers’ new identity.19 In as much as this new identity focuses on the readers’ new relationships – with God, with one another, and with those outside the Christian group – it may be further specified as the readers’ new social identity. 20 16 It will be recalled that in contemporary theory “disidentification” is distinguished from “disengagement” precisely because it is permanent and thoroughgoing. It is, of course, precisely the totality and permanence of the reorientation of values called for in 1 Pet 1:13 requires it to be supported by a new social identity such as the one constructed in 1:14–2:10. 17 Steele, “A Threat in the Air,” 613. 18 Miller and Major, “Coping with Stigma and Prejudice,” 260. 19 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 97 perceptively observes that before 2:10 the author of 1 Peter’s exclusive focus in on the “Selbstverständnis der christlichen Gemeinden,” after which he turns to the community’s “relationship to the world” (Weltverhältnis). 20 This close linkage with one’s social group is especially appropriate for those who ac-
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In constructing a new social identity for his beleaguered readers, the author of 1 Peter employs a series of five metaphors that variously characterize them as the newly formed “household of God” (oi\ko~ tou' qeou'). 21 These metaphors are: (1) the readers as God’s obedient “children” (1:14–16), (2) God as an impartial “father” (1:17–21), (3) the church as a family in which there is “true sibling love” (1:22–25), (4) the readers as “newborn infants” who have tasted the milk of God’s nourishment (2:1–3), and finally, and not without some violence to the master metaphor, (5) the readers as “living stones” from which God is building a “spiritual house” (2:4–10). 22 Each of these metaphors in turn is given concrete expression in a specific behavior that further defines the group and cements one’s commitment to it. These behaviors also presumably qualify the readers for “the grace to be brought at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (1:13). In each instance these behaviors are spelled out positively as expressing the practical implications of the Christian’s new birth: (1) a{gioi ejn pavsh/ ajnastrofh'Ê genh'qhte (1:15); (2) ejn fovbw/ to;n th'~ paroikiva~ uJmw`n crovnon ajnastravfhte (1:17); (3) ajllhvlou~ ajgaphvsate ejktenw`~ (1:22); (4) to; logiko;n a[dolon gavla ejpipoqhvsate (2:2); and (5) oijkodomei'sqe oi\ko~ pneumatiko;~ eij~ iJeravteuma a{gion (2:5). Three times the requisite behavior is also described in negative terms as breaking with one’s worldly past. This is clearest in 1:15: mh; suschmatizovmenoi tai'~ provteron §n thÊ ajgnoiva/ uJmw`n ejjpiqumivai~; but it can also be discerned at 1:22: ta;~ yuca;~ uJmw`n hJgnikovte~, and 2:1: ajpoqevmenoi ou'n pa'san kakivan kai; pavnta dovlon kai; uJpokrivsei~ kai; fqovnou~ kai; pavsa~ katalaliav~. The effect of these negative commands is to define the readers’ former commitments as morally inferior and therefore rightly to be rejected. Finally, each of these injunctions is itself supported by an authoritative and memorable saying that further socializes the group by providing a ready rationale for the behavior encouraged. Typically this is a Scripture quotation: a{gioi e[sesqe, o{ti ejgw; a{giov~ eijmi (1:16; citing Lev 11:44);23 pa'sa sa;rx wJ~ quire their stigma late in life. See the discussion of this significant moderator in chapter 5 above. 21 The expression “household of God” occurs in 1 Pet 4:17 (o{ti oJ kairo;~ tou' a[rxasqai to; krivma ajpo; tou' oi[kou tou' qeou'), but it expresses aptly the master metaphor behind 1:13–2:10; cf. Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 311; cf. the discussion of 1 Pet 1:13–2:10, esp. 2:4–10 by J. de Waal Dryden, Theology and Ethics in 1 Peter: Paraenetic Strategies for Christian Character Formation (WUNT 2.209; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006). For fictive kinship language in more generally, see Philip A. Harland, “Familial Dimensions of Group Identity: ‘Brothers’ ( Adelfoiv j ) in Associations of the Greek East,” JBL 124 (2005) 491–513; Bradley H. McLean, “The Agrippinilla Inscription: Religious Associations and Early Church Formation,” in idem, ed., Origins and Methods: Towards a New Understanding of Judaism and Christianity (JSNTSSup 86; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1993) 339–70. 22 For a similar analysis of 1:13–2:10, upon which I have drawn heavily, see Troy W. Martin, Metaphor and Composition in 1 Peter (SBLDS 131; Atlanta, GA: Scholars, 1993) 161–188. 23 Cf. Lev 19:2.
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covrto~ ktl. (1:24; citing Isa 40:6–7); and ejgeuvsasqe o{ti crhsto;~ oJ kurivo~ (2:3; citing Ps 33:9 LXX). But a piece elevated Christian prose, perhaps an early hymn or liturgical text, serves this purpose in 1:18–21, while a catena of Biblical texts and allusions is deployed in 2:6–10.24 This lengthy catena serves the additional purpose of concluding all of 1:13–2:10, much as the lengthy quotation of Ps 34:13–17 cited in 1 Pet 3:10–12 will mark the ending of 2:11–3:12. 25 Taken together, these metaphors, their corresponding behaviors, and their supporting rationale statements construct a powerful new social identity that spells out the implications of a Christian’s new birth. They also strengthen the readers’ ties to the Christian social group, which will have been particularly important for those who were recent converts and were therefore in special need of group support. Let me consider briefly each of these metaphors with its corresponding exhortation and supporting rationale statement. “As obedient children” (1 Peter 1:14–16) The first metaphor describing Christians as members of God’s apocalyptic family is conveyed in 1:14–16, where Christians are likened to “obedient children” of God: wJ~ tevkna uJpakoh'~ ktl. The metaphor of Christians as God’s “children” corresponds closely to the second metaphor conveyed in 1:17–21 of God as Christians’ “father,”26 and it is not uncommon for commentators to join these two metaphors together in a single paragraph, 27 or even to extend that paragraph to include 1:22–25, where the also closely-related metaphor of Christians as “siblings” is developed.28 However, this obscures the fact that the household of God metaphor cluster that governs all of 1:14–2:10 is composed of five related but nonetheless independent metaphors, 29 and so 1:14–16 should be read as a separate paragraph, as I do here.30 That being a child of God carries with it practical obligations is anticipated by the fact that Christians are described in 1:14a as God’s “obedient children.”31 These obligations are spelled out in 1:14b-15. They are first described negatively at 1:14b: mh; suschmatizovmenoi tai'~ provteron ejn thó' ajgnoiva/ uJmw`n ejpiqumivai~. 24
Included are: Isa 28:16; Ps 117:22 LXX; Isa 8:14; Isa 43:21; Hos 1:6, 9. The doxology at 4:11 serves a similar purpose for 1 Pet 3:13–4:11. 26 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 68: “Die Kindmetapher entspricht der Vatermetapher und nimmt auf die Wiedergeburt Bezug.” 27 So Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 114–27; Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 65. 28 Elliott, 1 Peter, 354–5; this also seems to be the view of Achtemeier, 1 Peter, 114. 29 Martin, Metaphor and Composition in 1 Peter, 161–88. The term “metaphor cluster” is Martin’s (ibid., 160). 30 So Ernest Best, The First Epistle of Peter (2nd ed.; Oxford: Blackwell, 1961) 71–3; Brox, Der erste Petrusbrief, 72–8. 31 Cf. 1:22: ejn thó' uJpakoh'Ê th'~ ajlhqeiva~. “Obedience” (obsequium) was an important component of a child’s pietas toward his or her parents (e.g., Dig. 37.15). 25
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Here we meet for the first time the author of 1 Peter’s negative caricature or mutual stereotyping of non-Christian gentile society, a theme to which he will return repeatedly in his letter.32 The society from which his readers have come is, he claims, characterized by ignorance (ajgnoiva) and desire (ejpiqumiva), and he urges his readers to reject it as a thing of the past (provteron). In 2:8 he will go so far as to claim that non-Christian gentiles have been predestined to their disobedience by God: oi{ proskovptousin tw`/ lovgw/ ajpeiqou'nte~ eij~ o} kai; ejtevqhsan. The author of 1 Peter’s caricature of gentiles reaches its highpoint in 4:3–4, where he finally blames them for his readers’ troubles: ajrketo;~ ga;r oJ parelhluqw;~ crovno~ to; bouvlhma tw'n ejqnw'n kateirgavsqai peporeumevnou~ ejjn ajselgeivai~, ejpiqumivai~, oijnoflugivai~, kwvmoi~, povtoi~ kai; ajqemitoi~ eijdwlolatrivai~, ejn w|/ xenivzontai mh; suntrecovntwn uJmw'n eij~ th;n aujth;n th'~ ajswtiva~ ajnavcusin blasfhmou'nte~.
Not surprisingly, he imagines his readers’ moral progress as a struggle against the “fleshly desires” that are a holdover from their non-Christian upbringing: parakalw` … ajpevcesqai tw`n sarkikw`n ejpiqumiw`n ai{tine~ strateuvontai kata; th'~ yuch'~ (2:11). This negative obligation is followed by a positive obligation in 1:15: ajlla; kata; to;n kalevsanta uJma'~ a{gion kai; aujtoi; a{gioi ejn pavsh/ ajnastrofhó'Ê genhvqhte. In addition to rejecting their non-Christian way of life, the readers are to intentionally embark on a process of moral transformation.33 The goal of this process is the holiness of God, which is to thoroughly characterize their lives: ejn pavsh/ ajnastrofhó'. It is revealing of our author’s purpose and perspective that “holiness” is here conceived as the outcome of a transition from a nonChristian past to a Christian future. Rebirth is similarly imagined as a “calling” from an old form of life to a new one oriented to future eschatological rewards: kata; to;n kalevsanta ktl. This theme is repeated at 2:9: tou' ejk skovtou~ uJma'~ kalevsanto~.34 The author of 1 Peter supports his injunction to holiness and the separateness it entails with a citation from Scripture: diovti gevgraptai o{ti a{gioi e[sesqe, o{ti ejgw; a{giov~ eijmi. This sentence appears five times in Leviticus, 35 where it carries the connotation of being distinct from surrounding peoples. Thus Lev 20:26: “You shall be holy to me; for I Yahweh am holy, and I have separated you
32
In addition to the texts cited in this paragraph, see 1:18; 4:17–18; 5:8. Here genhvqhte, which departs from the e[sesqe in the quotation in 1:16, carries the sense of “become” not simply “be.” 34 Elsewhere at 1 Pet 2:21; 3:9; 5:10. Cf. Epict., Diss. 1.24.49: tau'ta mevllei~ marturei'n kai; kataiscuvnein th;n klh'sin h}n kevklhken; Aristid., Or. 30.9 Keil: uJpo; tou' qeou' klhqeiv~; Paus. 10.32.13: ou}~ a]n ⁄ ÇIsi~ kalevsh/ di j ejnupnivan. According Epict., Diss. 3.22.56, the Cynic is not only called by God, but calls upon God: a[llon tina; ejpikalei'tai h] ejkei'non. 35 Lev 11:44, 45; 19:2; 20:7, 26. 33
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from the other peoples to be mine.” Holiness carries a similar connotation of social distinctiveness in 1 Peter: mh; suschmatizovmenoi … ajlla; … genhvqhte. “If you call on a father who judges impartially” (1 Peter 1:17–21) The second metaphor describing Christians as members of God’s apocalyptic family is introduced in 1:17–21 and likens Christians to the children of an impartial “father” who judges his children strictly according to their merits: kai; eij patevra ejpikalei'sqe to;n ajproswpolhvmptw~ krivnonta kata; to; eJkavstou e[rgon ktl. As we have already noted, this metaphor is a natural corollary of the first metaphor of Christians as obedient children. The author of 1 Peter is careful to exploit this connection: those who have been “called” (kalevsanta) by God as “children” (tevkna) now “call upon” (ejpikalei'sqe) God as “father” (patevra).36 The theme of appropriate filial “conduct” (ajnastrofh'Ê) introduced in 1:15 is also continued at 1:17b: ejn fovbw/ to;n th'~ paroikiva~ uJmw`n crovnon ajnastravfhte, and again at 1:18b: ejk th'~ mataiva~ uJmw`n ajnastrofh'~ patroparadovtou. In describing God as a father who judges his children, the author of 1 Peter evokes the image of the Roman paterfamilias, whose patria potestas gave him extensive legal powers over his immediate family.37 The most famous of these was the vitae necisque potestas, the power of life and death that he held over his children, and which, in theory at least, continued into their adult lives. 38 Less spectacular, though certainly of no less practical importance for the fortunes of his children, was the power of dominium, the father’s almost absolute property rights. The paterfamilias held these rights not only over the family fortune, determining among other things the inheritance of each child (the point here in 1 Peter), but even over the income of his mature sons, who remained in potestate until his death, and who, if the paterfamilias wished to exert his full rights, conducted their affairs by means of an “allowance” or peculium.39 36 This seamlessness has often led commentators (e.g., Elliott, Feldmeier) to group 1:17ff. with 1:14–16. However, Martin’s contention (Metaphor and Composition in 1 Peter, 169) that a new section is introduced with the change in metaphor is doubtless correct. 37 For patria potestas see Richard P. Saller, Patriarchy, Property and Death in the Roman Family (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994) 102–32. Roman power structures are always in the background of the letter (cf. 2:13–14). 38 Reaffirmed by Augustus for adult children, but revoked by Hadrian (Ulpian, Dig. 48.8.2). After Hadrian, fathers continued to exercise this right over new-born children in deciding whether or not to expose them. See the discussion in Richard P. Saller, “Patria potestas and the Stereotype of the Roman Family,” Continuity and Change 1 (1986) 7–22; Peter Garnsey and Richard P. Saller, Roman Empire: Economy, Society, and Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987) 136–7; Emiel Eyben, “Fathers and Sons,” in Beryl Rawson, Marriage, Divorce, and Children in Ancient Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991) 114–143, esp. 121–2. 39 Saller, Patriarchy, Property and Death in the Roman Family, 123–4; 218–20.
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Of course, things worked differently in practice than in legal theory.40 For instance, the full disinheritance (exheredatio) of disobedient children was socially unacceptable and even when it was rarely practiced it could be appealed.41 Similarly, the formalities of the peculium were not always observed, and even when they were the peculium could be substantial. Wealthy Roman fathers also felt social pressure to indulge their children in a lifestyle beyond their merits. Cicero, for example, complains to Atticus of young Marcus’ irresponsible spending in his first year in school in Athens, but concludes that he must give him at least “as much as Publilius and Lentulus gave their sons,” since “it is base for us that in his first year he should be in want, whatever kind of son he is.” 42 Pliny, even rebukes a father for calling his son to task for spending too much on dogs and horses:43 Well, what about you, have you never done something that could be criticized by your father? … Are not all men led astray by some error? Does he not indulge himself in this while someone else indulges in that?
Nonetheless, the paterfamilias exercised real power over the fortunes of his children, and in the end the amount of patrimony could vary considerably from child to child.44 As Ulpian observes, a child’s “hope” (spes) of inheritance lay in his or her filial respect and obedience (obsequium).45 Roman comedy and declamation made both the “permissive father” or lenis pater and the “hard father” or durus pater stock figures.46 According to 1 Pet 1:17–21, Christian converts are to imagine themselves as members of a new family in which God is the paterfamilias. In particular, they 40 See John Crook’s apt reflections at Law and Life of Rome: 90 B .C . to A .D . 212 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1967) 7–35. 41 Saller, Patriarchy, Property and Death in the Roman Family, 122–3. 42 Ad Att. 12.7, 32; 13.47; 14.7; cf. Saller, Patriarchy, Property and Death in the Roman Family, 124–5. 43 Ep. 9.12; a moral topos: Plaut., Asin. 64–83, Bacch. 410, Epid. 382–91, Pseud. 437; Ter., Heaut. 213 (cited by Richard P. Saller, “The Social Dynamics of Consent to Marriage and Sexual Relations: The Evidence of Roman Comedy,” in Angeliki E. Laiou, ed., Consent and Coercion to Sex and Marriage in Ancient and Medieval Societies [Washington D. C.: Dumbarton Oaks, 1993] 83–104, here p. 90). 44 As long as a child received at least one quarter of what they would have been given had the paterfamilias died intestate, there was no legal recourse. If the amount fell below this, the heir could lodge a querella inoffiosi testamenti (“complaint of an undutiful will”); Saller, Patriarchy, Property and Death in the Roman Family, 110–11, 164–7. 45 Dig. 1.7.17.3; cf. Keith Hopkins, Death and Renewal (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983) 245. 46 Saller, “The Social Dynamics of Consent to Marriage and Sexual Relations”; cf. Eyben, “Fathers and Sons,” who discusses these topoi as they appear elsewhere in moral exempla, the controversiae, and the rhetorical handbooks. According to 1 Peter God is neither a lenis or a durus pater, but an impartial father: patevra … to;n ajproswpolhvmptw~ krivnonta. In as much as ajproswpolhvmptw~ is a so-called Septuagintalism, this text is a parade example of the blending of Jewish and Roman cultural scripts.
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are to take care to note that, unlike earthly fathers who often indulge their children beyond their merits, God is an impartial father who judges each of his children individually according to his or her works: ajproswpolhvmptw~ … kata; to; eJkavstou e[rgon. From this follows the practical injunction of 1:17b that Christians must conduct themselves with all appropriate filial respect or “fear”: ejn fovbw/ to;n th'~ paroikiva~ uJmw`n crovnon ajnastravfhte.47 The Christian’s hope of inheritance rests with God alone: ejlpivda ei\nai eij~ qeovn.48 In support of this injunction to fear God as an impartial paterfamilias, the author of 1 Peter quotes from what appears to be an early Christian hymn or other liturgical text (1:18–21).49 As one would expect, much of this “hymn” is only loosely related to the paterfamilias motif. There are, however, two obvious points of contact, which no doubt explain its use here. The first comes at the beginning of the quoted fragment in 1:18: ejlutrwvqhte ejk th'~ mataiva~ uJmw`n ajnastrofh'~ patroparadovtou. In becoming members of the family of God, Christians are redeemed from a way of life imposed by their earthly fathers, a way of life now judged “worthless” in that it leads to an inheritance that does not last.50 The second point of contact comes at the end of the quotation in 1:21,51 where the topic of the Christian’s new “hope” (ejlpiv~) is reached: qeo;n to;n ejgeivranta aujto;n ejk nekrw`n kai; dovxan aujtw`/ dovnta w{ste th;n pivstin uJmw`n kai; ejlpivda ei\nai eij~ qeovn.52 God has raised Christ from the dead and given him a glorious inheritance (dovxan aujtw`/ dovnta). God will do the same for Christians, who are to look to their new divine paterfamilias for their “hope” of inheritance (w{ste th;n pivstin uJmw`n kai; ejlpivda ei\nai eij~ qeovn).53 47 Cf. 2:17: pavnta~ timhvsate, th;n ajdelfovthta ajgapa'te, to;n qeo;n fobei'sqe, to;n basileva tima'te. A father who evokes “fear” in his children was not a Roman ideal (contrast the words of the lenis pater Micio at Ter., Adel. 57–8: pudore et liberalitate liberos retinere satius esse credo quam metu), but reflects the author of 1 Peter’s biblical sources, which spoke frequently of the “fear of the Lord.” 48 1 Pet 1:21 (on inheritance, cf. 1:4). That the Christian’s hope rests in God serves both to comfort and to warn. It is with God and is therefore not threatened by the events of this life. But care must be taken to please God, on whom one’s hope depends fully. 49 Other possible liturgical or hymnic fragments are 2:21–25 and 3:18–22. 50 Contrast 1 Pet 1:4: eij~ klhronomivan a[fqarton kai; ajmivanton kai; ajmavranton, tethrhmevnhn eijn oujranoi'~; cf. Willem C. van Unnik, “The Redemption in 1 Peter I 18–19 and the Problem of the First Epistle of Peter,” in Sparsa Collecta: The Collected Essays of W. C. van Unnik, II (NovTSup 30; Leiden: Brill, 1980) 3–82, esp. 37–40. The language of 1:4 is recalled twice in 1:18–21: fqartoi'~ (1:18) and ajmwvmou (1:19). 51 On this reading, the author began quoting his source at the first point of contact with his theme and continued quoting it until he came to the second point of contact. 52 This nicely recalls the theme of hope introduced in 1:13. Those who currently trust God, should also hope in God’s reward. The apocalyptic and familial contexts are fused. Those who are the children of God await their hope of inheritance, not when their paterfamilias dies, but at the final revelation of Jesus Christ. 53 Cf. Ulpian at Dig. 1.7.17.3 (cited above) who similarly speaks of a child’s inheritance has his or her spes or “hope.”
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“Having purified your souls for genuine sibling love” (1 Pet 1:22–25) The readers of 1 Peter are to understand themselves as those who have acquired a new relationship with God: they are God’s obedient children (1:14–16), and God is their impartial father (1:17–21). But they have also acquired a new set of relationships with one another as members of God’s family. These new relationships are the subject of the third metaphor deployed in 1:22–25, according to which the readers have been born again into a divine family in which there is now the potential for “genuine sibling love”: ta;~ yuca;~ uJmw`n hJgikovte~ §n thÊ uJpakoh'Ê th'~ ajlhqeiva~ eij~ filadelfivan ajnupovkriton ktl.54 In speaking of an ideal sibling love that is ajnupovkrito~, the author of 1 Peter exploits a piece of contemporary cultural criticism. Love between siblings was a common topos in Hellenistic moral theory. It is already discussed by Aristotle at EN 8.12.3–6 (1161B-1162A), and Xenophon at Cyr. 8.7.14–16 and Mem. 2.3.4.55 By the Augustan period, however, with its penchant for self-promoting myths of decline – from which decline Augustus and subsequent emperors then rescued the civilized world – this ideal was severely tarnished.56 Plutarch begins his De fraterno amore with just this observation: “Brotherly love is as scarce in our days as brotherly hatred was in ancient times.”57 According to the author of 1 Peter, however, Christian rebirth changes all this. It purifies (hJgikovte~) the soul from the fleshly desires that corrupt it58 and gives Christian converts a new 54 Reidar Aasgaard provides an extensive discussion of “sibling love” in its ancient context in his “My Beloved Brothers and Sisters!” Christian Siblingship in Paul (JSNTSup 265; ECC 2; London/New York: T. & T. Clark/Continuum, 2004); cf. idem., “Brothers and Sisters in the Faith: Christian Siblingship as an Ecclesiastical Mirror in the First Two Christian Centuries,” in Jostein Ådna, ed., The Formation of the Church: Papers from the Seventh Nordic New Testament Conference in Stravanger 2003 (WUNT 183: Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004) 285–316; idem., “‘Brotherly Advice’: Christian Siblingship and New Testament Paraenesis,” in James Starr and Troels Engberg-Pedersen, eds., Early Christian Paraenesis in Context (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2005) 237–65; Hans-Josef Klauck, “Brotherly Love in Plutarch and in 4 Maccabees,” in David Balch, Everett Ferguson, and Wayne Meeks, eds., Greeks, Romans, and Christians: Essays in Honor of Abraham J. Malherbe (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990) 144–56; Hans D. Betz, “De fraterno amore (Moralia 478A-492D),” in idem., ed., Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature (SCHNT 4; Leiden: Brill, 1978) 231–63; E. Texeira, “A propos du De amore prolis et du De fraterno amore: La famille vue par Plutarque,” Annales de la Faculté des letters et Sciences Humaines de Dakar 12 (1982) 25–41. 55 Later treatments include Hierocles apud Stob., Flor. 4.27.20 and of course Plutarch, De fraterno amore; cf. Epict., Diss. 1.11 (Peri; filostrogiva~); 4 Macc. 13.19. 56 E.g., Ovid, Met. bk. 1. 57 Frat. amor. 1.1; cf. 1.4. 58 For the unconverted soul as captive to “fleshly desires,” see 1 Pet 2:11. According to author of 1 Peter it is the yuchv that is saved (1:9; 3:20). In “obeying the truth” Christians purify their yucaiv (1:22) making communal life possible. By implication, the yucaiv of nonChristians remain defiled so that they are incapable of communal life. The enemies of the yuchv are the fleshly desires (sarkikai; ejpiqumivai), which are the cause of strife (2:11–12; cf. Jas 4:1, for which see Luke Timothy Johnson, The Letter of James: A New Translation with Intro-
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potential for genuine family-like affection for one another (filadelfivan ajnupovkriton). The practical injunction that follows in 1:22b-23 calls on the readers to act decisively and consistently on their new potential: ejk kaqara'~ kardiva~ ajllhvlou~ ajgaphvsate ejktenw`~ ajnagegennhmevnoi oujk ejk spora'~ fqarth'~ ajlla; ajfqavrtou dia; lovgou zw`nto~ qeou' kai; mevnonto~. Christians have been born again by obeying the truth of the gospel,59 which according to the author of 1 Peter is the incorruptible “seed” of the “word of God.”60 The sibling love deriving from this rebirth should be similarly incorruptible (ejktenw`~).61 This love is to define the Christian community. Paul expresses similar sentiments in Rom 12:9–10: hJ ajgavph ajnupovkrito~ … th'Ê filadelfivan/ eij~ ajllhvlou~ filovstorgoi.62 Characteristically, the author of 1 Peter supports his injunction with a Scripture quotation, in this case emphasizing the enduring nature of the word of God: pa'sa sa;rx wJ~ covrto~ kai; pa'sa dovxa aujth'~ wJ~ a[nqo~ covrtou: ejxhravnqh oJ covrto~ kai; to; a[nqo~ ejxevpesen: to; de; rJh'ma kurivou mevnei eij~ to;n aijw`na.63 “As newborn infants” (1 Peter 2:1–3) The fourth metaphor describing Christians as members of God’s apocalyptic family is introduced in 2:1–3, where Christians are described as “newborn infants” who are to crave “the pure milk of the word”: wJ~ ajrtigevnnhta brevfh to; logiko;n a[dolon gavla ejpipoqhvsate.64 This new metaphor maintains the familial imagery of the previous metaphors, and the description of the “milk” for which the readers hunger as “of the word” (logiko;n) continues the reference to duction and Commentary [AB 37A; New York: Doubleday, 1995] 276–7). These desires form the background to 2:11–3:12: they take the form of rebellion and strife that resists authority (2:13–17), especially the authority of masters (2:18–25) and husbands (3:1–7), and that makes communal life impossible (3:8–12). The language is semi-technical and emotive: a cleansed yuchv makes possible a pure kardiva (1:22). 59 1 Pet 1:25: tou'to de; ejstin to; rJh'ma to; eujaggelisqe;n eij~ uJma'~; cf. 1:22: ejn th uJpakoh'Ê th'~ ajlhqeiva~. 60 This is no doubt a reference to the Parable of the Soils as interpreted in Mark 4:3–20: oJ speivrwn to;n lovgon speivrei (4:14). 61 Grammatically, it is unclear whether the participles zw`nto~ and mevnonto~ should be understood to modify lovgou or qeou', but the fact that the quotation ends by saying that “the word of God abides forever” (to; de; rJh'ma kurivou mevnei eij~ to;n aijw`na), would suggest that they almost certainly refer to lovgou. Because Christians have been born again by the incorruptible word of God their love for each other should be similarly incorruptible. 62 Cf. Wilson, Love Without Pretense, 150–65. 63 Isa 40:6–8. 64 Up to now the pattern has been metaphor followed by exhortation followed by rationale. Here the pattern is varied slightly and the metaphor (2:2a) is embedded in the exhortation (2:1, 2b).
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lovgo~ in 1:23.65 However, the progression of metaphors from “children” who fear and obey their “father” (metaphors 1 and 2), to older siblings who “love one another sincerely” (metaphor 3), and then back to “newborn infants” (metaphor 4) still desiring milk is obviously out of sequence, and at one level the original logic of the metaphor cluster is clearly beginning to break down.66 Nevertheless there is a discernible logic if we attend to what the author is trying to say about Christians rather than the metaphorical means by which he says it. The first three metaphors describe the new relationships that the readers have entered into by their new birth (relationships with God and with other Christians), an essentially static schema. The fourth metaphor, however, moves beyond this description to emphasize the readers’ new potential for growth,67 which emphasis continues in the fifth metaphor (2:4–10) under the rubric of building a temple.68 This is an important point for our author to make, since the readers’ final salvation – “the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (1:13) – is not simply the result of their new relationships with God and other Christians, but comes about as a result of their spiritual “growth”: aujxhqh'te eij~ swthrivan (2:2). This point has already been hinted in 1:6–9, according to which it is only at the “end” (tevlo~) of a life of testing that the readers’ faith is fully refined and “salvation” is achieved: komizwvmenoi to; tevlo~ th'~ pivstew~ uJmw`n swthrivan yucw`n.69 Growth is therefore an integral part of the readers’ new identity as those who by new birth have joined God’s family and must now grow up to receive their final inheritance. Or to put it differently, growth is an important part of what it means to set one’s hope concretely on the world to come and its rewards (1:13), since it is only by personal growth that these rewards can actually be obtained. Nursing infants grow, of course, by feeding on their mothers’ milk, and the author develops the metaphor along just these lines in the practical injunction of 2:2b: to; logiko;n a[dolon gavla ejpipoqhvsate. Likening a religious believer to a nursing infant who grows by drinking spiritual milk provided by the divinity is a striking image and its origins are not immediately obvious. It does not derive from the psalm adduced in the next verse: eij ejgeuvsasqe o{ti crhsto;~ oJ kurivo~, quoting with slight alteration Ps 34:9 (Ps 33:9 LXX), which only speaks of “tasting” that the Lord is good, but does not specify what is being tasted, or for that 65 The use of rJh'ma versus lovgo~ in 1:25b is due simply to the fact that rJh'ma appears in the quotation from Isa 40:6–8 in 1:24–25a. 66 This will continue to be the case with the fifth metaphor: Christians “as living stones” (wJ~ livqoi zw`nte~) being build into a spiritual house or temple (2:4–10). 67 1 Pet 2:2: i{na … aujxhqh'te eij~ swthrivan. 68 1 Pet 2:5: oijkodomei'sqe, “allow yourselves to be built up.” For interpreting oijkodomei'sqe as an imperative, see below. 69 The metaphors of “testing” (e.g., 1 Pet 1:6; cf. 5:10) and “refining” (e.g., 1 Pet 1:7) also make this point.
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matter imply any kind of spiritual growth.70 Nor does the imagery seem to derive from early Christian texts like Heb 5:12 where milk (gavla) is employed to refer to elementary Christian teachings (ta; stoikei'a th'~ ajrch'~ tw`n logivwn qeou') that are distinguished from more advanced “solid food” (sterea; trofhv),71 an analogy already drawn in Hellenistic philosophy.72 The spiritual or “wordy” (logiko;n) milk of 1 Pet 2:2 is not distinguished from solid food but represents the whole of spiritual instruction, “the living and abiding word (lovgo~) of God” (1:23) that the readers have already heard and obeyed in the gospel. The closest analogy to 1 Peter’s use of this image seems to lie with the mysteries, where “rebirth” is also as in 1 Peter a prominent theologoumenon, 73 and where milk was employed sacramentally as a symbol of the believers’ regeneration and of the spiritual knowledge made available to them. Thus Sallustius at De deis 4 reveals the following about the liturgical workings of the annual Spring festival of the Attis cult: 74 First, as like Attis having fallen from heaven and consorting with the nymph [a reference to Attis’s infidelity to the Mother], we are dejected and abstain from bread and from all other rich and coarse food, for both are unsuited to the soul. Then come the cutting of the tree and the fast, as though we also were cutting off the further progress of generation [a reference to the castration of Attis by the Mother]. After this we are fed on milk as though being reborn (ejpi; touvtoi~ gavlakto~ trofh; w{sper ajnagennwmevnwn), after which comes rejoicings and garlands and as it were a new ascent to the gods.
At least two of the so-called Ophic (or Bacchic) Gold Tablets speak of advanced initiates (e[rifoi) being baptized in milk: e[rifo~ ej~ gavl j e[peton.75 At some point, perhaps very early on, the symbolism of these rites came by simple metonymy to be associated with the knowledge communicated in them. Accord70
The metaphor no doubt suggested the quotation of the psalm rather than the other way around. 71 Cf. 1 Cor 3:2 (brw`ma). 72 E.g., Epict., Diss. 3:24; Philo, Congr. 19. 73 Rebirth is mentioned explicitly in 1 Pet in 1:3 (ajnagennhvsa~) and 1:23 (ajnagegennhmevnoi), as well as here at 2:2 (ajrtigevnnhta brevfh). See the discussion above in chapter 6. 74 8.19–24 Nock; cf. Porphyr., Antr. Nymph. 28; Macrob., In Cic. som. Scip. 1.12; discussion in Schlier, TWNT 1:645–7. 75 Albert Bernabé, Poetae Epici Graeci (2 vols.; Leipzig: Sauer, 2005) 2/2, frag. 489.10 (= 32c.11 Kern); frag. 487.4. See the discussion in Radcliffe G. Edmonds, Myths of the Underworld: Plato, Aristophanes, and the “Orphic” Gold Tablets (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004) 88–91; Peter Kingsley, Ancient Philosophy, Mystery, and Magic (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995) 264–76. Fritz Graf and Sarah Iles Johnston, Ritual Texts for the Afterlife: Orpheus and the Bacchic Gold Tablets (London: Routledge, 2007) cite Ael., Var. hist. 8.8 (“being in milk”) as evidence of a stock metaphor without liturgical significance. But if there is a popular metaphor here in the Golden Tablets, and that is far from certain, then at the very least that metaphor has been expanded, since “kid” is a sobriquet used for the initiated; cf. Kingsley, op cit., 265, who notes further that “kid” is a ritual title of Dionysius (cit[ rifo~; Apollod., Bibl. 3.4.3). ing Hesych. s.vv. Eijrafiwvth~, E
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ing to Hippolytus, the Christian sect of the Naassenes described their “ineffable mysteries” (a[rrhta musthvria) as milk sweetened by honey.76 According to the Od. Sol. 8.14, the gnostic drinks the “holy milk” of God, which milk is said to be expressed from the Father’s breasts by the Spirit.77 Some such metonymy must lie behind the logiko;n gavla of 1 Pet. 2:2.78 According to 1 Pet 2:2b the readers are to crave or “earnestly desire” (ejpipoqhvsate) the spiritual milk of the gospel. The intensity of this desiring corresponds neatly with the intensity with which the reader is exhorted in 1:13 to set his or her hope “fully” (teleivw~) on the apocalyptic future. It is by personal spiritual growth that the Christian achieves salvation, and just as this salvation is to be “fully” or earnestly hoped for, so the means of growth leading to this salvation is to be earnestly desired. Characteristically for 1 Peter this means, among other things, purifying oneself from various worldly vices: pa'san kakivan kai; pavnta dovlon kai; uJpokrivsei~ kai; fqovnou~ kai; pavnta katalaliav~ (2:1).79 In 2:3 the author supports his exhortation with a Scripture quotation from Ps 34:9 (33:9 LXX): eij egeuvsasqe o{ti crhsto;~ oJ kurivo~. The LXX text of the psalm reads: geuvsasqe kai; i[dete o{ti crhsto;~ oJ kurivo~. Psalm 34 (33 LXX) will play an important role later in the letter at 3:10–12, where it is quoted at length.80 It is also possible that the relative clause beginning the next verse (1 Pet 2:4) pro;~ o}n prosercovmenoi may derive from a few lines earlier in the psalm: prosevlqate pro;~ aujtovn (33:6 LXX). There is, however, as I have already indicated, no reference in the psalm to an infant tasting its mother’s milk. Rather the psalm is simply an invitation to its hearers to find out for themselves – “taste and see!” – that Yahweh is good. The text of the psalm has been altered to fit the context in 1 Pet 2:1–3. It is assumed that the readers have already tasted the milk of God81 at conversion, their new birth, and on the basis of this they are urged to desire more nourishment and the growth that it produces.
76
Ref. 5.8.30. Cf. Od. Sol. 19.1–5. 78 See further the Christian texts assembled by John H. Bernard, The Odes of Solomon (TU 8.3; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1912) 67–8. 79 Cf. 1:13a: dio; ajnazwsavmenoi ta;~ ojsfuva~ th'~ dianoiva~ uJmw`n nhvfonte~ ktl. Just as one hopes “fully” by girding up the loins of the mind and being sober, so one “earnestly desires” the divine pure spiritual milk by putting aside the vices listed in 2:1. 80 Ps 34:13–17 (33:13–17 LXX). 81 There is a certain ambiguity in the text at this point. While kuvrio~ in 1:25 is presumably God (following lovgo~ qeou' in 1:23), by 2:3 kuvrio~ refers to Christ, as the relative clause beginning 2:4 makes plain. This kind of fuzzy Christological logic is of course characteristic of emerging Christianity. 77
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“As living stones … a spiritual house” (1 Pet 2:4–10) The fifth and final metaphor depicting Christians as members of the apocalyptic family of God is introduced in 2:4–10. Up to this point the author has interpreted the master metaphor oi\ko~ tou' qeou' figuratively as the “household” or family of God. For this final metaphor, however, he interprets the term oi\ko~ literally as the “house” of God. This is a bold move: Christians are not only the “household” of God, they are the “house” of God – by which he presumably means the new temple of God replacing the now defunct temple in Jerusalem! The author of 1 Peter develops this metaphor at length in 2:4–10. Let me briefly note three implications that he draws from it, each of which contributes significantly to the new identity he is constructing for his readers. First, the readers should understand that their contribution to the new Christian movement is vital and essential: they are the “living stones” (livqoi zw`nte~) out of which God is building God’s new “spiritual house” (oi\ko~ pneumatikov~) in which Christ is himself the “cornerstone” (livqon ajkrogwniai'on).82 Second, they should understand that their current rejection by their neighbors, far from disqualifying them for this calling, is in fact an expression of it: Christ was himself “a living stone rejected by people but chosen and precious in the sight of God” (livqon zw`nta uJpo; ajnqrwvpwn me;n ajpodedokimasmevnon para; de; qew`/ ejklekto;n e[ntimon). And third, the readers are not simply the “stones” out of which God is building a new spiritual temple, but the “holy priesthood” (iJerateuma aJ{gion) working in that temple.83 Their acts of worship – which in the context probably include their efforts to serve God as “obedient children,” to care for one another with “genuine sibling love,” and to grow through the public reading and teaching of “the milk of the word” – constitute “spiritual sacrifices” (pneumatika;~ qusiva~) and are just as “acceptable to God” (eujprosdevktou~ tw`/ qew`/) as the sacrifices formerly offered in the temple in Jerusalem.84 As with earlier metaphors this fifth and final metaphor is supported by a practical injunction that is itself given warrant in Scriptural citation. This injunction appears in 2:5: oijkodomei'sqe oi\ko~ tou' qeou', where the passive im82 The sectarians at Qumran similarly imagined themselves as the temple of God: e.g., 1QS 8.5–8: “a holy house for Israel and a foundation for the holiest of holies” (μyçwq çwdq dwsw larçyl çwdq tyb), cited by Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 90 n 275; cf. 1QS 9.6; 4QFlor 1.1–6. Elsewhere in the New Testament, see Eph 2:20–2; 1 Cor 3:13; 6:19; 1 Tim 3:15. More generally, see Bertil Gärtner, The Temple and the Community in Qumran and the New Testament (SNTSMS 1; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965). 83 Here the notion of “house” is further extended to include those working in it. Heb 3:1–6 offers a possible analogy, for which see Harold W. Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews: A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia: Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1989) 108–9. 84 These are very bold claims, and given the fact that they come last in the chain of metaphors in 1:14–2:10 and are developed over the course of seven verses, it is tempting to say that they trump all that has gone before.
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perative (oijkodomei'sqe)85 might best be translated “allow yourselves to be built.”86 It is not immediately evident what all this injunction entails, but at the very least it calls for the readers to take an active part in their respective congregations and to take it upon themselves to continue the true worship of God on earth and all that this involves. The Scriptural rationale adduced for this fifth metaphor is extensive and falls into two parts. The first part is a florilegium of Scriptural texts in which the term “stone” (livqo~, Heb. ˜ba) is interpreted Christologically (1 Pet 2:6–8).87 These texts are: ijdou; tivqhmi ejn Siw;n livqon ajkrogwniai'on ejklekto;n e[ntimon kai; oJ pisteuvwn ejp j aujtw`/ ouj mh; kataiscunqh'Ê (Isa 28:16); livqo~ proskovmmato~ kai; pevtra skandavlou (Isa 8:14); livqo~ o}n ajpedokivmasan oiJ oijkodomounte~, ou|to~ ejgenhvqh eij~ kefalh;n gwniva~ (Ps 117:22 [LXX = Ps 118:22 MT]).
The second part is a catena of valorizing epithets applied to the readers, which titles have been variously taken from Scripture (1 Pet 2:9–10). These titles – gevno~ ejklektovn, basivleion iJeravteuma, e[qno~ a{gion, ktl. – emphasize the readers new identity as members of God’s apocalyptic oi\ko~ (“household” and “house”) and form an apt conclusion to 1:13–2:10.88
Conclusion In 1 Pet 1:13–2:10 the author offers the first of three pieces of practical advice on how to cope with a growing anti-Christian prejudice. He urges his readers to “disidentify” with the present age with its many disappointments and to focus their hopes instead on an apocalyptic future with its guaranteed outcomes (1:13). He recommends that they facilitate this break by beginning to think and act even now as those who are already members of God’s apocalyptic family 85
Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 89. It is possible that the participle in 2:4 (prosercovmenoi) should be rendered as an imperative with the result that 2:4–5 would mean: “come to him as a living stone rejected by people but chosen and precious in the sight of God, and allow yourselves to be built as living stones into a spiritual house etc.” 87 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 91, who speculates, reasonably, that Dan 2:34 and 45 might also be added to this list. If he is also right that the connection of “stone” with Christ was facilitated by the Hebrew for “stone” (˜ba) being similar to the Hebrew for “son” (˜b), then this florilegium will have originated among Hebrew-speaking Christians and may have been quite early. For other evidence of this interpretation, see Mark 12:10 par. (= Matt 21:42–44; Luke 20:17–19; cf. Acts 4:11) and Rom 9:30–32. 88 As already noted, a similarly lengthy quote from Ps 34:13–17 will conclude the second piece of advice in 2:11–3:12. 86
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(1:14–2:10). This is the most sweeping of the coping strategies he will offer, and it is reasonable to think that he imagined it as a kind of meta-strategy or master plan that follows naturally from the theological datum that believers have been “born again” (1:3), and that should in principle inform every aspect of his readers’ lives. In the remaining two pieces of advice he will focus on more specific types of situations: those that can be measurably improved if the readers behave prudently (2:11–3:12), and those in which physical persecution has become inevitable (3:13–4:11).
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“To silence the ignorance of the foolish” (1 Pet 2:11–3:12): Coping with Prejudice through “Behavioral Compensation” patrivda~ oijkou'sin ijdiva~, ajll j w~ pavroikoi, metevcousi pavntwn wJ~ poli'tai, kai; pavnq j uJpomevnousin wJ~ xevnoi.*
The author of 1 Peter offers a second strategy for coping with prejudice in 2:11–3:12. It is less encompassing than the “disidentifying” strategy articulated in 1:13–2:10, which called for a radical reorientation of values toward an apocalyptic future and the construction of a new social identity as the apocalyptic family of God. It focuses instead on more practical matters, in particular on how to behave on a daily basis so as to refute hostile stereotyping: ajgaqopoiou'nta~ fimou'n th;n tw`n ajfrovnwn ajnqrwvpwn ajgnwsivan (2:15). This is a clear instance of what modern social psychologists call behavioral “compensation,” a problem-focused coping strategy according to which stigmatized persons take it upon themselves to “compensate” for the social distance created by their stigma, including adopting behaviors that disprove existing stereotypes.1 As a problem-focused strategy it envisages cases where outcomes can be measurably changed, where stereotypes can be effectively refuted, and detractors “silenced” (2:15) or perhaps even “gained” (3:1) for the faith. 2 The author introduces his * Epistle to Diognetus. 1 Balch (“Hellenization/Acculturation in 1 Peter”) describes this as a strategy of “accommodation,” for which he has drawn considerable criticism from John Elliott, who insists that this reading is “thoroughly incompatible” with the spirit of the letter which is that the readers must not compromise (Elliott, 1 Peter, 509). My own view obviously accords more closely with Balch’s. Elliott is correct that there are places in 1 Peter where compromise is eschewed (e.g., 1:14–17), but he is wrong to insist that non-compromise on some points precludes compromise on others. Elliott’s reading of 1 Peter continues to be determined by his decision early on to describe the readers of 1 Peter as a “conversionist sect,” which while making sense of certain data, fails to account for other. Further, as I have already indicated in my discussion of coping in chapter 5 above, it is characteristic of coping to deploy multiple strategies that engage the situation at different levels and that may appear contradictory when viewed independently of their practical objective. 2 To speak of “outcomes” that can be “measurably changed” may seem not to do justice
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strategy with a few general reflections in 2:11–12, after which he spells out its more salient implications in 2:13–3:7, summarizing in 3:8–12.
“Having good behavior among the gentiles” (1 Pet 2:11–12) In 1:13–2:10 the author characterized his readers as “children” (tevkna) in the apocalyptic family of God. He now changes metaphors and addresses them as “resident and visiting aliens” (pavroikoi kai; parepivdhmoi) in a foreign and sometimes hostile world.3 This is not the first time he has used this metaphor.4 According to 1:1 the readers are “elect visiting aliens” (ejklevktoi~ parepidhvmoi~) scattered throughout the eastern provinces of the Roman empire. According to 1:17 their life in this world is a “time of residing as aliens” (to;n th;~ paroikiva~ crovnon). This metaphor fits well with the coping strategy offered in 1:13–2:10 which recommends that Christians disidentify with this world and identify themselves wholly with their new homeland in the world to come.5 But the metaphor also supports the coping strategy offered in 2:11–3:12. For just as non-citizens residing in a city other than their own were expected to submit to the customs and institutions of their host society,6 so the readers of 1 Peter, who are in effect non-citizens residing in this world, 7 must make
to 2:18–25 where there is little hope that the domestic slaves of the brutal masters will be treated better for submitting slavishly. But what is at issue here for the author of 1 Peter, rightly or wrongly, is not improved circumstances for these slaves – he does not believe that these can be changed – but improved circumstances for the local Christian community, who may escape being attacked by the masters of these slaves if these slaves passively accept their beatings and abuse. The welfare of the church as a whole is also the goal of 3:1–7, where the wives of non- Christian husbands are advised to submit. In this case, however, the author adds as further motivation that if the wife is submissive enough the husband might be “gained” (3:1). 3 See Elliott, Home for the Homeless, 21–58, for a brief account of the terminology, though I cannot agree with him that these terms are to be applied literally to the readers. Elliott has now been replaced by Feldmeier, Die Christen als Fremde. 4 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 9–12, sees in the concept of alien or stranger (Fremde) the the author’s theological interpretation (Deutung) of the readers’ predicament. 5 A point made at length in the previous two chapters. 6 E.g., Cic., Off. 1.125: Peregrini autem atque incolae officium est nihil praeter suum negotium agere, nihil de alio anquirere minimeque esse in aliena re publica curiosum. One of the commonly noted evils of exile was that one had to adopt foreign customs (e.g., Teles, frag 3.24 Hense). 7 Feldmeier, “The ‘Nation’ of Strangers.”
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every effort not to offend to their “citizen” neighbors: th;n ajnastrofh;n uJmw`n ejn toi'~ e[qnesin e[conte~8 kalhvn (2:12a).9 The author offers two initial reasons for model social behavior: (1) because to behave otherwise will endanger the readers’ salvation, and (2) because to behave properly will contribute to the glory of God. Though his emphasis will eventually lie elsewhere, the author begins by reminding his readers that their “good conduct,” the relevant details of which he will describe in 2:13–3:12, is of soteriological importance. The intended outcome of Christian faith is ultimately the “salvation” of the believer’s “soul”: komizovmenoi to; tevlo~ th'~ pivstew~ uJmw`n swthrivan yucw`n (1:9). But this is achieved only as that faith is purified in the furnace of testing (1:6–7). To fail to conduct oneself well in the time of testing – to give in, say, to the desire to retaliate10 – is to endanger one’s final salvation. It is to follow “fleshly desires that wage war against the soul” (tw`n sarkikw`n ejpiqumiw`n ai{tine~ strateuvontai kata; th'~ yuch'~; 2:11). Nothing less than the readers’ final salvation is at stake, and they must not allow their daily struggles to cause them to lose sight of this. Also at stake is the eschatological glory of God. This is a major theme in both Jewish and Christian apocalypticism, according to which all creation, including those elements that rebelled, will ultimately be forced to submit to God’s rule and acknowledge God’s just judgment. According to the author of 1 Peter, the readers’ “good conduct” will be used as evidence against their persecutors in the final judgment,11 at which point they (the persecutors) will be compelled to glorify God: i{na ejn w|/ katalalou'sin uJmw`n wJ~ kakopoiw`n ejk tw`n kalw`n e[rgwn ejpopteuvonte~ doxavswsin to;n qeo;n ejn hJmevra/ ejpiskoph'~ (2:12). This has been interpreted to imply the conversion of these persecutors, but there is little emphasis on evangelism in 1 Peter.12 Balch following van Unnik has correctly in8 The nominative e[conte~ is odd. One would expect the accusative e[conta~ in agreement with paroivkou~ and parepidhvmou~ in v. 11. Strictly speaking the nominative argues for taking v. 12 with what follows in vv. 13–14 (cf. 2:1–2 for a similar construction), and this may be the correct interpretation. My understanding of the sense of the passage, however, is that v. 12 completes the thought of v. 11. Several mss (614, 630, pc) rewrite v. 12 to correct for this: parakalw` de; kai; tou'to th;n ejn toi'~ e[qnesin uJmw`n ajnastrofh;n e[cein kalhvn. 9 At first glance it is tempting to take “good behavior” (th;n ajnastrofh;n … kalhvn) to be a reference to moral behavior in general. That the author of 1 Peter has something more specific in mind, however, is made clear in the next verse: uJpotavghte pavsh/ ajnqrwpivnh/ ktivsei … ei[te basilei' wJ~ uJperevconti, ei[te hJgemovsin wJ~ di j aujtou' pempomevnoi~. 10 Explicitly in 1 Pet 2:23; 3:9, and implied in 3:2–4. 11 E.g., 1 Pet 4:5. 12 As correctly noted by William J. Dalton, Christ’s Proclamation to the Spirits: A Study of 1 Peter 3.18–4.6 (2nd ed.; AnBib 23; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1989) 122; contra Elliott, 1 Peter, 471, who sees here the “conversion” of the readers’ opponents; as already noted this is part of Elliott’s larger understanding of the readers of 1 Peter as a “conversionist sect” after an early model developed by Bryan Wilson (e.g., Bryan R. Wilson, ed., Patterns of Sectarianism: Organization and Ideology in Social and Religious Movements [London:
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terpreted this to mean only the eventual capitulation of the unrighteous before the obvious justice of God,13 what he aptly calls a “doxology of judgment.”14 Examples of this include 1 En. 62.6, where condemned kings and governors “bless, glorify, and extol” the Son of Man and the Lord of Spirits. And similarly, at 1 En. 63.4: “Now we have come to know that we should glorify and bless the Lord of kings.” That the readers will themselves be thoroughly vindicated at this time is, of course, also implied. A final item in 2:11–12 that calls for comment is the use of kakokoiov~ as a term of abuse. According to 2:12 the readers of 1 Peter are being slandered as kakopoioiv: katalalou'sin uJmw`n wJ~ kakopoiw`n. The verb katalalei'n is a general term for defamation and tells us little about the social situation, beyond the fact that negative stereotyping was taking place. However, the substantive kakopoiov~ conveys clear political and legal overtones, and its use as a term of public abuse will have almost certainly constituted a realistic threat. I discussed this term earlier in chapter 3, where I noted in particular its connotation of criminality.15 The strategic introduction of this important term in 2:11–12 suggests that this is the fundamental charge being leveled at Christians and that all of what follows in 2:13–3:12 is an attempt to refute this dangerous piece of slander in its various ramifications.16 This is confirmed by the fact that kakopoiov~ appears two verses later in 2:14 where it forms part of a Roman governor’s imperial mandate: pempomevnoi~ eij~ ejkdivkhsin kakopoiw`n. As I have also already indicated, kakopoiov~ here translates the Latin malus homo, which in Roman propaganda meant the criminal subversive whom governors were to expunge from their provinces.17 The readers of 1 Peter are obviously being stereotyped in ways that facilitate legal accusation and prosecution. Heinemann, 1967] and idem, Religious Sects: A Sociological Study [London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1970]); for Wilson’s more recent analysis, see idem, The Social Dimensions of Sectarianism: Sects and New Religious Movements in Contemporary Society (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990). My own view is that the readers of 1 Peter might be better described as a “cult” as defined by Rodney Stark and William Bainbridge: e.g., Rodney Stark and William Bainbridge, The Future of Religion: Secularization, Revival, and Cult Formation (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985). I am grateful to Penny Long Marler for pointing me to this literature. 13 Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive. 87–8; Willem C. van Unnik, “The Teaching of Good Works in I Peter,” NTS 1 (1954–55) 92–110, here 103–5; cf. Achtemeier, 1 Peter, 178. 14 Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, 87 (the expression is van Unnik’s); cf. 1 En. 62.9: “On that day, all the kings, the governors, the high officials, and those who rule the earth shall fall down before him (the Son of Man) on their faces and worship”; 63.3: “Your power exposes every secret thing from generation to generation and your glory is forever and ever.” Compare the response of the unrighteous in Wisd 5:4–13; Phil 2:11: kai; pa'sa glw`ssa ejxomologhvshtai o{ti kuvrio~ jIhsou'~ Cristo;~ eij~ dovxan qeou' patrov~. 15 BDAG, s.v. kakopoiov~; cf. s.v. kakopoievw 1. 16 See here 2:14, 20; 3:6, 11–12; cf. 3:13. 17 E.g., Paulus in Dig., 1.18.3: nam et in mandatis principum est, ut curet is, qui provinciae praeest, malis hominibus provinciam purgare; Ulpian in Dig., 1.18.13. praef.: Congruit bono et
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“Submit to every human institution” (1 Pet 2:13–3:7) In 2:13–3:7 the author of 1 Peter narrows his focus. He has thus far spoken in very general terms about “good conduct” and has argued along broad soteriological and theological lines (2:11–12). He now speaks more specifically about his readers submitting to established political and social institutions and argues along essentially prudential lines that by being submissive to these institutions the readers may hope to silence their accusers by falsifying the negative stereotypes being spread against them: ajgaqopoiou'nta~ fimou'n th;n tw`n ajfrovnwn ajnqrwvpwn ajgnwsivan (2:15).18 The language is instructive. The readers, as we have already observed, are being defamed as kakopoioiv. The author proposes that they contradict this charge by engaging in what he characterizes as explicitly antithetical behavior: ajgaqopoiou'nta~. In a word, they should answer the charge of kakopoioiv by becoming ajgaqopoioiv.19 It is hard to imagine a more clear-cut case of coping with prejudice by behavioral “compensation.” 1 Pet 2:13–3:7 may be divided into two parts: (1) advice regarding Christian behavior toward the state (2:13–17) and, in as much as the Romans saw domestic order as an extension of political order, (2) advice regarding Christian behavior in the oi\ko~ (2:18–3:7). Christian Behavior toward the State (1 Pet 2:13–17) One of the most common complaints against Christians in the first centuries c.e. was that they were anti-social, that they “hated” their non-Christian neighbors and were contemptuous of local custom. 20 Given the close connection between the social and the political in the early Roman Empire, this complaint could easily be expanded to include the charge of political sedition. This progression is neatly illustrated in Acts chapters 16–17: in Acts 16:21 Paul is accused of preaching un-Roman customs: kai; kataggevllousin e[qh a} oujk e[xestin hJmi'n paradevcesqai oujde; poiei'n JRwmaivoi~ ou\sin; by Acts 17:7 he has become a political dissident whose message is anti-Roman: ou|toi pavnte~ ajpevnanti tw`n dogmavtwn Kaivsaro~ pravssousin basileva e{teron levgonte~ ei\
gravi praesidi curare, ut pacata atque quieta provincia sit quam regit. Quod non difficile optinebit, si sollicite agat, ut malis hominibus provincia careat eosque conquirat . 18 Balch. Let Wives Be Submissive, 119: “conduct which would contradict the Roman slanders.” 19 Later in 3:13 he characterizes the strategy of 2:11–3:12 as the readers becoming “zealots for good” (tou' ajgaqou' zhlwtaiv). 20 On hatred, see Tacitus’s famous expression: odium humani generis (Ann. 15.44); on contempt for custom, see the response of P. Vigellius Saturninus, proconsul of Africa, at Mart. Scil. 5: Initianti tibi mala de sacris nostris aures non praebebo.
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nai Ij hsou'n. Writing in the second half of the second century Celsus takes it for granted that Christian evangelists spread a “cry of sedition” (fwnh; stavsew~). 21 The author of 1 Peter understands the danger in these stereotypes,22 and beginning in 2:13–17 he offers his readers a proactive strategy for coping with them. 23 The first thing the readers must do is display their submission to Roman imperial authority: uJpotavghte pavsh/ ajnqrwpivnh/ ktivsei dia; to;n kuvrion, ei[te basilei' wJ~ eJperevconti, ei[te hJgemovsin wJ~ di j aujtou' pempomevnoi~ eij~ ejkdivkhsin kakopoiw`n e[painon de; ajgaqopoiw`n (2:13–14). 24 The language of submission (uJpotavghte) is important. It is repeated in 2:18 and again in 3:1 and answers the claim that Christianity is politically and socially subversive. Paul uses identical language in Rom 13:1–7, written in advance of his first visit to the imperial capital: pa'sa yuch; ejxousiva~ uJperecouvsai~ uJpotassevsqw … dia; th;n suneivdhsin (13:1, 6). Later Apologists such as Justin Martyr and
21 Orig., C. Cels. 8.2 (cited by Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 107). This charge was not without merit: ego imperium huius seculi non cognosco (Mart. Scil. 6). 22 He also unwittingly perpetuates them in the sharp contempt he shows for nonChristian social practices: ejk th'~ mataiva~ uJmw`n ajnastrofh'~ patroparadovtou (1:18b); ajrketo;~ ga;r oJ parelhluqw;~ crovno~ tov bouvlhma tw`n ejqnw`n kateirgavsqai peporeumevnou~ ejn ajselgeivai~, ejpiqumivai~, oijoflugivai~, kwvmoi~, povtoi~ ajqemivtoi~ eijdwlolatrivai~ … eij~ th;n aujth;n th'~ ajswtiva~ ajnavcusin (4:3–4), for which see the discussion of mutual stereotyping above in chapter 5. Elsewhere, Paul’s letter to the Christians in Rome begins with a lengthy catena of anti-gentile slanders that concludes with a “vice-list” or Lasterkatalog not unlike 1 Pet 4:3–4 (Rom 1:18–32); Paul will turn to anti-Jewish slander in 2:17–24 (cf. 1 Thess 2:15–16). Christian (and Jewish) apocalypses were equally offensive, explicitly longing for the brutal torture and destruction of their adversaries; here note esp. the early second-century Apoc. Pet., though the motif is nearly ubiquitous; cf. Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 4 n. 22, who cites the criticism of Celsus at Orig., C. Cels. 4.6–8, 23; 5.14, etc., and possibly Fronto at Min. Fel., Oct. 11. A complete discussion of this problem would, of course, need to take into account the common use of “invective” (vituperatio) in Roman rhetoric. For a recent discussion, see Valentina Arena, “Roman Oratorical Invective,” in William Dominik and John Hall, eds., A Companion to Roman Rhetoric (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007} 149–60; Jennifer Wright Knust, Abandoned to Lust: Sexual Slander and Ancient Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006); cf. Luke Timothy Johnson, “The New Testament’s AntiJewish Slander and the Conventions of Ancient Polemic,” JBL 108 (1989) 419–41. A balanced account would also need to recognize that there was a growing attempt among both Jewish and later Christian intellectuals to construct a religious culture that was at least on the surface appreciative of “pagan” accomplishments. Here see especially the important study by Arthur J. Droge, Homer or Moses? Early Christian Interpretations of the History of Culture (HUT 26; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1989). 23 The intent of this strategy is summarized in the rhetorical question 3:13: kai; tiv~ oJ kakwvswn uJma'~ eja;n tou' ajgaqou' zhlwtai; gevnhsqe. 24 Cf. Orig., C. Cels. 8.65: “we are not idiots; we do not needlessly provoke against ourselves the wrath of emperors and their subordinates, so as to bring upon ourselves unnecessary sufferings and tortures or even executions (ouj memhvnamen oujd j oJrmw`men kaq j eJautw`n ejgeivrein basilevw~ h] dunavstou qumovn, ejpi; aijkiva~ kai; basanisthvria h] kai; qanavtou~ hJma'~ fevronta)!”
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Tertullian will repeatedly emphasize their whole-hearted submission to Roman rule. 25 According to the author of 1 Peter, however, it is not enough simply to submit to Roman rule: Christians must be seen to be submitting to Roman rule. This point is already made in 2:12: “that seeing (ejpopteuvonte~) your good works they might glorify God etc.” It is made again in 3:2: “having seen (ejpopteuvsante~) your chaste and respectful behavior.”26 The strategy is one of calculated self-presentation, of acting in such a way as to make it obvious that the negative stereotypes of their detractors are wrong: o{ti ou{tw~ ejsti;n to; qevlhma tou' qeou' ajgaqopoiou'nta~ fimou'n th;n tw`n ajfrovnwn ajnqrwvpwn ajgnwsivan (2:15). 27 In the language of modern social psychology, Christians are to take it upon themselves to structure their behavior and their discourse to “compensate” for the prejudice of their neighbors, which in this case means acting so as manifestly to refute hostile stereotypes. 28 It is with a view to this visible and explicit submission to Roman authority that the author of 1 Peter incorporates into his advice a piece of Roman propaganda at 2:14: hJgemovsin wJ~ … pempomevnoi~ eij~ ejkdivkhsin kakopoiw`n e[painon de; ajgaqopoiw`n. Commentators have traditionally taken this text at face value as evidence that at the time when 1 Peter was written the persecution of Christians in the eastern provinces of the Roman empire had not progressed very far. 29 But this is to misunderstand the nature of early persecutions, which were not instigated by Roman governors (who sometimes even ruled in favor of the Christians) but local citizenry who used the courts to their advantage. More important, it is to misunderstand the rhetoric of 2:14, and in particular the social psychology behind the text. Marginalized groups often reproduce, sometimes verbatim, the propaganda of the socially and politically dominant. Indeed, they often attend very closely to that propaganda, what Scott calls the “public transcript,” in order to bend it to their favor by appealing to those ele25 E.g., Just., 1 Apol. 17; Tert., Apol. 30–33; cf. Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 108 who also cites Theophil. Autoly. 1.11; Athenag., Leg. 37. 26 A similar sentiment, though deployed for different purposes, is expressed in Matt 5:16: o{pw~ i[dwsin uJmw`n ta; kala; e[rga kai; doxavswson to;n patevra to;n ejn toi'~ oujranoi'~; cf. Titus 2:7–8. 27 The participle ajgaqopoiou'nta~ makes it clear that the slander kakopoioiv (2:12) is still in view. For similar language, see Melito apud Eus., Hist. eccl. 4.26.10: th;n ejkeivnwn a[gnoian. 28 Bruce W. Winter, Seek the Welfare of the City: Christians as Benefactors and Citizens (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), comes close to this interpretation when he writes that recognition of Christians as public benefactors (he understands, wrongly to my mind, 1 Pet 2:14–15 to address well-to-do Christians who could bestow notable benefactions on their cities that would be recognized in public inscriptions), “would be a means of refuting unfounded rumours against a Christian as being a man [sic] of ill-will or a threat to the peace and welfare of a city” (39); cf. idem, “The Public Honouring of Christian Benefactors: Romans 13:3–4 and 1 Peter 2.14–15,” JSNT 34 (1988) 87–103. 29 E.g., Elliott, 1 Peter, 100.
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ments of it that support their interests.30 This is clearly what the author of 1 Peter is doing in 2:14.31 The readers are being slandered as kakopoioiv and the “public transcript” states that Roman governors are sent to punish such individuals. But that transcript also states that Roman governors are sent to reward ajgaqopoioiv, good persons who support Roman rule and the values consistent with that rule. The author of 1 Peter therefore urges his readers to style themselves ajgaqopoioiv32 and in so doing to deploy the “public transcript” to counter and ultimately undermine the accusations of their detractors, who are of course themselves bending the same transcript to their purposes. The author of 1 Peter, therefore, quotes imperial propaganda, not as a naive description of the historical situation, but for the benefit of his readers whose strategic and apologetic purposes he is seeking to shape. The author is aware that his emphasis on submission to Roman authority cuts against a major tenet of Anatolian Christianity: namely, Paul’s famous doctrine of “freedom” in Christ: th'Ê ejleuqeriva/ hJma'~ Cristo;~ hjleuqevrwsen (Gal 5:1) and again: uJmei'~ ga;r ejp j ejleuqeriva/ ejklhvqhte (Gal 5:13a).33 Paul himself, of course, had found it necessary to qualify his doctrine to avoid the criticism that Christians living his life of freedom after the Spirit fell short of those who continued to observe Torah. Thus Paul continues in Gal 5:13b: movnon mh; th;n ejleuqerivan eij~ ajformh;n th'Ê sarkiv. It is not surprising, therefore, that the author of 1 Peter similarly qualifies Christian freedom: wJ~ ejleuvqeroi kai; mh; wJ~ ejpikavlumma e[conte~ th'~ kakiva~ th;n ejleuqerivan (2:16).34 At the same time, however, he attempts to make submission to “every human institution” (2:13) more palatable by subsuming it under submission to God: wJ~ qeou' dou'loi (2:16). We should not assume that the language of serving God in 2:16 is merely a rhetorical ploy to make submission to Roman authorities acceptable to the readers of 1 Peter. To be sure, the author sets real limits on Christians’ “freedom” in an effort to advise his readers on how to avoid offensive behavior. But he also sets limits on submission to authorities, especially as it relates to the em30
Domination and the Arts of Resistance, 45–69, esp. 52–55. See Feldmeier’s perceptive comments at Der erste Brief des Petrus, 107. 32 Cf. 3:13: tou' ajgaqou' zhlwtaiv (“zealots for good”). 33 1 Peter itself bears witness to the success of this doctrine. The temptation to interpret this doctrine politically would have been great in the eastern provinces. 34 Of course, whereas Paul is concerned that Christians pursuing their new-found religious freedom might fall into personal immorality, the author of 1 Peter is concerned that Christians not engage in public behavior that plays into the hands of detractors. It is tempting to hear in the warning of 2:16 the accusation that Christianity was a mere “cover” (ejpikavlumma) for wickedness. Some such accusation lies behind the parody of the Christian wife at Apul., Met. 9:14: “inventing empty rites and ceremonies, she deceived all men, but especially her poor husband, delighting in drinking wine, early in the morning no less, and abandoning her body to continual whoredom.” 31
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peror, whose alleged divinity, however it might be understood, was a point of tension with Jews and Christians. This is hinted in 2:13 when he refers to Roman imperial rule as one “human” institution among many. But it is explicitly mapped out in 2:17: pavnta~ timhvsate, th;n ajdelfovthta ajgapa'te, to;n qeo;n fobei'sqe, to;n basileva tima'te. This striking antithetical sententia serves as an apt conclusion to 2:13–17.35 It contains effectively two antitheses: (1) Christians should honor their neighbors, but love other Christians,36 and (2) Christians should honor the emperor, but fear God.37 There is a clear prioritizing of commitments, with other Christians taking precedence over non-Christians, and God taking precedence over the Roman emperor.38 In the context, the emphasis falls on the second antithesis between God and the emperor.39 A similar ordering of commitments appears in a number of early Christian texts, such as Mart. Scil. 9: honorem Caesari quasi Caesare; timorem autem Deo.40 The author of 1 Peter will set limits on Christian submission to imperial claims again in 3:15: kuvrion de; to;n Cristo;n aJgiavsate ejn tai'~ kardivai~ uJmw`n.41 The point of 2:13–17, however, is that within these limits Christians should take it upon themselves to make as good a show of submission as possible.
35 For the importance of sententiae in Greco-Roman rhetoric, see Holloway, “Paul’s Pointed Prose.” For the antithetical sententia (sententia ex diversis) see Quint., Inst. 8.5.5; for the concluding sententia or clausula (8.5.13–14). 36 Cf. 1 Pet 1:22–5, where the theme is Christian filadelfiva; see the discussion in chapter 7 above. 37 The subjects of the second antithesis are reversed relative to the first antithesis to form a chiasm. Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 110) offers another attractive interpretation of 2:17: that the first three elements form a crescendo leading from outsiders, to fellow Christians, to God, leaving the fourth element, that relating to the emperor, as a kind of anticlimax, that among other things recalls the first element, in as much as one is to “honor all” and “honor the emperor.” One of the attractive properties of sententiae, of course, was that they admitted of several different readings. 38 It is also worth pointing out that “honor” (timhv) is a common Greco-Roman virtue going back to Homer, but that it finds little expression in Christianity. Its inclusion here is part of the author of 1 Peter’s continuing attempt to accommodate as far as possible to societal institutions and values. 39 Cf. 2:13. If Prov 24:21 (fobou' to;n qeo;n, uiJev, kai; basileva) is the Vorlage for the second half of 2:17, the restricting of “fear” to God is all the more emphatic; cf. Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 110. 40 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 110 n, 364, who also cites Mart. Scil. 8: nos non habemus alium quem timeamus nisi dominum Deum nostrum qui est in caelis. The limiting of “fear” to God will be picked up again in 1 Pet 3:14, for which see the discussion below in chapter 9. Cf. Matt 22:21: ajpovdote ou\n ta; Kaivsaro~ Kaivsari kai; ta; tou' qeou' tw`/ qew`/. 41 Cf. Mart. Scil. 6: cognosco domnum meum, imperatorem regum et omnium gentium.
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Christian Behavior in the oi\ko~ (1 Pet 2:18–3:7) Christians must avoid being seen as a disruptive force in the state (2:13–17). They must also avoid being seen as a disruptive force in the oi\ko~ (or domus), the extended household which in Roman antiquity included not only the immediate family but other close relatives and “domestic slaves” (oijkevtai).42 Christian behavior in the oi\ko~ is the topic of 2:18–3:7. In keeping with his strategy of visible submission to Roman political and social institutions, the author directs his advice to the subordinate members of the household, domestic slaves (2:18–25) and wives (3:1–7), whom he urges to “submit” (uJpotassovmenoi/ai 2:18; 3:1) respectively to their masters and their husbands.43 The linking of political and domestic realms may sound strange to modern readers, but to the original readers of 1 Peter it will not have seemed strange at all.44 Indeed, it was an integral part of Roman imperial ideology that the peace established by Augustus and reaffirmed by all subsequent emperors, resting as it did on traditional Republican virtues, embraced both realms.45 That these ideological assumptions influenced the “politics” of early Christianity, can be seen in such texts as 1 Tim 3:5: eij de; ti~ tou' ijdivou oi{kou prosth'nai oujk oi[den, pw`~ ejkklhsiva~ qeou' ejpimelhvsetai. I have only a few things to add to the received interpretation of 2:18–3:7, so my comments will be selective and brief. Christian Domestic Slaves. The author addresses domestic slaves first in 2:18–25. He begins with a straightforward exhortation in 2:18: oiJ oijkevtai uJpotassovmenoi ejn panti; fovbw/ toi'~ despovtai~, followed by two rationale statements in 2:19–20 and 21–25, both of which are introduced by gavr. I will comment in some detail on the exhortation in 2:18 and then more briefly on the rationale statements in 2:19–25. Christian domestic slaves are to “submit” (uJpotassovmenoi) to their masters “with all fear” (ejn panti; fobw`/; 2:18a). The phrase “with all fear” in 2:18a has raised questions for interpreters. The author has just instructed his readers to “honor” the emperor but to “fear” only God: to;n qeo;n fobei'sqe, to;n basileva tima'te (2:17). It is surprising, therefore, to find him in the very next paragraph urging Christian domestic slaves to “fear” their masters. The vast majority of commentators have therefore interpreted the 42
Saller, Patriarchy, Property and Death in the Roman Family, 74–101. The short aside to husbands in 3:7, only makes the point that 2:18–3:7 is about slaves and wives. 44 W. K. Lacey, “Patria Potestas,” in Beryl Rawson, ed., The Family in Ancient Rome: New Perspectives (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1986) 121–144, esp. 125–30 (“1. The State as Family”). 45 This is compellingly argued and illustrated by Paul Zanker, The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1988); more recently: Krintina Milnor, Gender, Domesticity, and the Age of Augustus: Inventing Private Life (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). Cf. The Alexandrian philosopher and sometime advisor to Augustus, Arius Didymus apud Stob., Ecl. 2.148.8: “the house is like a small city,” (cited by Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, 42). 43
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phrase “with all fear” to mean “with all fear of God,”46 which they argue is roughly equivalent to phrase “for the Lord’s sake” (dia; to;n kurivon) in 2:13.47 This is not an unreasonable interpretation. But if fearing God is such an important point for the author of 1 Peter, and it of course is – at least as regards claims made about the Roman emperor’s divinity – and if it is in fact precisely this point that he is continuing to assert in 2:18, then why does he not do so unambiguously by writing ejn fovbw/ tou' qeou' or the like? For by far the more natural interpretation of 2:18a as it stands in the text of 1 Peter is that it is the masters themselves and not God who are to be feared: uJpotassovmenoi ejn panti; fovbw/ toi'~ despovtai~. It seems better, therefore, to take the text at face value and suppose that the author has simply slipped into a traditional use of fovbo~ in 2:18,48 much like he will in 3:2, where he speaks of a Christian wife’s “fear” of her husband – whom, by the way, he calls her “lord” (kuvrion; 3:6), despite the fact that he elsewhere stipulates that this term is to be reserved for Christ49 – or in 3:16, where he urges Christians forced to make a defense of their faith to do so meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbou.50 One can appreciate the author’s earlier insistence that Christians distinguish between fearing God and honoring the emperor, whose divine status offended the Christian understanding of God, and who at any rate, according to at least one version of early imperial rhetoric, could simply be honored as primus inter pares.51 But all this changes in 1 Pet 2:18. Roman political culture with its convenient ambiguities is no longer in view. The topic has shifted to domestic slavery, where there was no social code that allowed slaves simply to “honor” their masters. On the contrary, slaves were dehumanized as personal property and were required to submit to their masters with slave-like deference, “with all fear” as the author of 1 Peter puts it, and any equivocation on this could be disastrous.52 The point of 1 Pet 2:18a, therefore, is that Christian slaves should be careful to exhibit a similar servility so as to be models of an appropriate (i.e., slave-like) submission.53 46
E.g., Elliott, 1 Peter, 517. Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 114. 48 Cf. Ps.-Arist., Oec. 3.3. 49 I.e., 1 Pet 3:15: kuvrion de; to;n Cristo;n aJgiavsate ejn tai'~ kardiva~ uJmw`n. 50 Commentators who interpret 2:18 as fear of God, typically also go on to interpret 3:2 and 16 as fear of God. But this is even more implausible to my mind. As I have already noted the husband is called “lord” in 3:6, which supports my reading of 3:2. As for 3:16, meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbou, the first term (prau?thto~) clearly has a human referent, and we may reasonably expect the same for the second term (fovbou). 51 This problem underlies the insistence in 2:13 that the emperor is yet another ajnqrwpivnh ktivsi~; Horrell, “Between Conformity and Resistance.” 52 On violence toward slaves in the Roman household, see Saller, Patriarch, Property and Death in the Roman Family, 133–53. 53 On this reading the addition of ejn panti; fovbw`/ after uJpotassovmenoi in 2:18a underscores the “compensatory” or essentially exhibitionistic nature of the coping advice being 47
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In 2:18b the author further stipulates that Christian slaves are to show all fear “not only to [masters] who are good and forbearing, but even to those who are perverse” (ouj movnon toi'~ ajgaqoi'~ kai; ejpieikevsin ajlla; kai; toi'~ skolioi'~). The distinction here between good and perverse masters is important. “Perverse” masters, as he goes on to say, are those brutal slave-owners who beat (kolafivzein) their slaves “unjustly” (ajdivkw~; 2:19), which is to say, even when those slaves are being compliant (ajgaqopoiou'nte~; 2:20).54 “Good and forbearing” masters, on the other hand, are those who only beat their slaves when they “do something wrong” (aJmartavnonte~). The emphasis in 2:18–25 falls on perverse masters,55 presumably because it is to them that Christian slaves are most in danger of expressing their “freedom” in Christ, and therefore to whom they can most effectively exhibit their complete submission.56 To submit unequivocally to brutal masters is, of course, an onerous task, and so in 2:19–25 the author of 1 Peter offers two reasons why Christian domestic slaves should do so. Both of these reasons develop some aspect of early Christian theology and are obviously attempts to further motivate Christian domestic slaves to continue to show model submission in extreme and dehumanizing circumstances. For modern critical readers 2:19–25 crudely “baptize” ancient slave offered: Christian domestic slaves are to display at all times an appropriately slave-like deference to their masters so as to make themselves models of submission. The author of 1 Peter accepts with little criticism contemporary household ethics, according to which is was expected for slaves to show extreme deference to their masters. That he will take a similar approach to a wife’s relationship to her husband (3:1–6) is well known, though here, of course, a short note is added (3:7) that urges husbands should “honor” their wives – albeit as the “weaker vessel.” See further, Jennifer A. Glancy, Slavery in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002) 139–52. 54 It is possible that these domestic slaves were being singled out by “perverse” masters because of their conversion of Christianity, for bringing what Tacitus, Pliny, and Suetonius agreed was a despicable superstition into the household. The author of 1 Peter does not explicitly say this, but it may be behind his statements in 2:19–20 that these Christian slaves were suffering unjustly and while/for doing good. This would offer a more precise parallel to 3:1–7 where the conversion to Christianity of a wife without her husband is in view. It would also fit the topos of the righteous sufferer adduced in 3:13–4:11, where the righteous person is said to suffer not in spite of being righteous but because of it (esp. 3:14). Needless to say, if Christian domestic slaves were being singled out for abuse because of their membership in the Christian group, they constitute yet another instance of social prejudice. 55 A similar emphasis is found in 3:1–7 where Christian wives are urged to submit to their husbands, and especially husbands “who disobey the word.” 56 As already indicated, the author of 1 Peter accepts ancient household ethics, according to which even forbearing masters, not to mention perverse ones, beat their slaves on occasion as they deem necessary and are to be served with slave-like “fear.” The point of 2:18–25 is to convince Christian domestic slaves that it is their religious duty to obey this code. Early Christians like the author of 1 Peter judged it a duty to die for their faith, but they did not think it a duty to suffer for the “freedom” of their oppressed co-religionists. The latter part of this judgment was reversed by the Christian leaders of the American Civil Rights Movement.
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ethics, applying a Christian veneer on what are otherwise at best prudential considerations. According to the first rationale statement domestic slaves who tolerate unjust abuse because they believe that this is what God wants them to do gain favor with God. 1 Pet 2:19 makes this point explicitly and concisely: tou'to ga;r cavri~ eij dia; suneivdhsin qeou' uJpofevrei ti~ luvpa~ pavscwn ajdivkw~. 1 Pet 2:20 repeats the point, no doubt for emphasis, reformulating it more sharply as an antithesis: poi'on ga;r klevo~ eij aJmartavnonte~ kai; kolafizovmenoi uJpomenei'te; ajll j eij ajgaqopoiou'nte~ kai; pavsconte~ uJpomenei'te, tou'to cavri~ para; qew`/.57 The second rationale statement is more involved and extends from 2:21 to 25. It is debated whether the author of 1 Peter draws on a traditional Christian source here.58 What is not in doubt, however, is that he quotes repeatedly from Isa 53,59 which he uses to interpret Christ’s death according to the Jewish topos of the righteous sufferer.60 This is a complex topos composed of at least three elements: (1) that the righteous sufferer provides others with an example of how to endure persecution by sinners,61 (2) that his or her death makes an atonement for sins,62 and (3) that he or she will eventually be vindicated by God.63 The author of 1 Peter deploys each of these elements in his interpretation of Christ’s death in 2:21–5, though in a different order than I have listed them here. First, Christ offers suffering domestic slaves an example of one who was unfairly abused: o}~ loidorouvmeno~ oujk ajnteloidovrei, pavscwn oujk hjpeivlei (2:23a). Second, Christ looked to God for his final vindication: paredivdou de; tw`/ krivnonti dikaivw~ (2:23b). And finally, he offers atonement to his followers, which atonement brings with it the possibility of pleasing God (the point already made in 2:19–20): o{~ ta;~ aJmartiva~ hJmw`n aujto;~ ajnhvnegken ejn tw`/ swvmati aujtou' ejpi;
57 The first half is further sharpened by being expressed as a rhetorical question, while the second half carries forward the strategic language of “doing good” (ajgaqopoiei'n). 58 See the discussion of 1:18–21 above in chapter 7. 59 1 Pet 2:22: oujk ejpoivhsen [ajmartivan] oujde; euJrevqh dovlo~ ejn tw`/ stovmati aujtou' (Isa 53:9); 2:24a: ta;~ aJmartiva~ hJmw`n aujto;~ ajnhvnegken (Isa 53:4, cf. 12); 2:24b: tw`/ mwvlwpi ijavqhte (Isa 53:5); 2:25: wJ~ provbata planwvmenoi (Isa 53:6). 60 I discuss this topos (der leidende Gerechte) below in chapter 9 in conjunction with 1 Pet 3:14. 61 For the righteous sufferer as example, see 2 Macc 6:31. That Christian suffering follows the example of Christ is one of the principal consolations offered to suffering Christians in 1 Peter. It appears in its fullest form in 4:13 where Christians who share in the suffering of Christ (koinwnei'te toi'~ tou' Cristou' paqhvmasin) are urged to take comfort in the fact that this will lead ineluctably to their sharing triumphantly in his glory. It is already intimated in 1:8 where suffering Christians are said to “love” (ajgapa'te) Christ and to experience “an inexpressible joy” (cara'/ ajneklalhvtw/) in advance of their final salvation. 62 For the righteous sufferer as atonement, see: 4 Macc. 18.21–2; cf. 1.11; 6.28–9; 9.24; 12.17; 17.10; 18.4. 63 For the vindication of the righteous, see 4 Macc. 18.23; Wisd 3:1–9.
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to; xuvlon, i{na tai'~ aJmartivai~ ajpogenovmenoi th'Ê dikaiosuvnh/ zhvswmen (2:24).64 Christian Wives. In 3:1–7 the author turns from Christian domestic slaves to Christian wives, whose behavior toward their husbands, if interpreted as insufficiently “submissive,” may also endanger the reputation and ultimately the safety of the church.65 As in 2:18–25 he begins with a straightforward exhortation to submission (3:1a) followed by a rationale statement (3:1b-2). He follows this with a further exhortation to wifely modesty (3:3–4a), and then two further supporting rationale statements (3:4b-6). He concludes with a brief exhortation to husbands (3:7), the precise purpose of which in the overall argument is not clear. Just as (oJmoivw~; 3:1a) domestic slaves should be models of submission to their masters, including “perverse” masters who beat them without cause, so Christian wives should be models of submission to their husbands, including non-believing husbands who “disobey the word” (ajpeiqou'sin tw`/ lovgw/).66 It was assumed that slaves in general and domestic slaves in particular would adopt the religion of their masters;67 it was also assumed that a wife would adopt her husband’s religion.68 Wives who converted to Christianity without their husbands – and this apparently happened with some frequency69 – would therefore have created a delicate and potentially dangerous problem. It is to this problem, Christian wives of non-Christian husbands, that the author of 1 Peter directs his advice in 3:1–7.70 The problems arising from a Christian wife married to an non-Christian husband are already addressed by Paul in 1 Cor. 7:13–16, who realistically anticipates a degree of strife in the relationship: ejn de; eijrhvnh/ kevklhken uJma'~ oJ 64
The text continues: ou| tw`/ mwvlwpi ijavqhte. h\te ga;r wJ~ provbata planwvmenoi, ajlla; ajpestravfhte nu'n ejpi; to;n poimevna kai; ejpivskopon tw`n yucw`n uJmw`n (a further reference to God). 65 The following discussion of 1 Pet 3:1–7 follows closely the fine analysis by Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, esp. 81–116. 66 That the husbands in question do not simply “disbelieve” the gospel but “disobey” it may suggest an element of hostility, though the expression “disobey the gospel” can simply mean to disbelieve it (e.g., John 3:36; cf. Rom. 2:8; and already in 1 Pet 2:8 and again in 4:17). In the case of 1 Peter, of course, hostility may be imagined throughout. 67 Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, 68; following Franz Bömer, Untersuchungen über die Religion der Sklaven in Greichenland und Rom (4 vols.; Mainz: Steiner, 1947, 1960, 1961, 1963) 4:247–8. 68 Plut., Conj. praec. 140D; Stob., Flor. 4.23.58. Best, The First Epistle of Peter, 124; Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, 84–5; Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 119–20 69 Celsus can complain that Christianity was made up primarily of slaves and women including “gullible wives” (Orig., C. Cels. 3.44, 55) 70 On the power of religious conversion (in this case Judaism) to break up families, see Tac., Hist. 5.5.2: Transgressi in morem eorum idem usurpant, nec quicquam prius imbuuntur quam contemnere deos, exuere patriam, parentes liberos fratres vilia habere.
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qeov~ (7:15b). Paul does not imagine, however, the level of hostility found in 1 Peter, where it is reasonable to assume that alienated husbands were among those maligning and perhaps bringing legal accusations against the church.71 Justin tells the story of a Christian wife indicted by her non-Christian husband at 2 Apol. 2, an indictment that led eventually to the martyrdom of her teacher Ptolemaeus and another member of the church – precisely the type of catastrophe the author of 1 Peter is seeking to avoid. A similar situation is reported by Tertullian at Scap. 3.4, though this time it is the wife of the governor of Cappadocia Claudius Lucius Herminianus who converts. Herminianus became so “enraged that his wife had become a Christian” that he treated the whole church in his province with great cruelty. Thecla’s famous conversion at Acta Pauli 2.7 resulted in a similar persecution, prosecuted not only by her fiancée Thamyris, who brought charges against Paul,72 but by Thecla’s own mother Theocleia, who asked to have her daughter burned alive: “Burn the lawless one! Burn her that is no bride in the midst of the theater!”73 Judging from Apuleius’s parody at Met. 9.14, the “Christian wife” had become something of a proverb by the second half of the second century. I have already quoted this text at length in chapter 3 above. Here I only cite the most relevant excerpts:74 she was crabbed, cruel, cursed, drunken, obstinate, stubborn …, an enemy to faith and chastity, a despiser of all the gods whom others did honor, one who affirmed that she had instead of our sure religion an only god by herself, whereby inventing empty rites and ceremonies, she deceived … her poor husband, delighting in drinking wine – early in the morning no less! – and abandoning her body to continual whoredom.
Writing from the opposite perspective, Tertullian also describes the kinds of rancor and hostility the marriage between a Christian wife and non-Christian husband might generate at Ad ux. 2.4–7. According to Justin, the offending wife of 2 Apol. 2 sought to openly win her husband to her newfound faith by “citing the teaching of Christ, and assuring him that there shall be punishment in eternal fire inflicted upon those who do not live temperately etc.”75 We cannot be sure that such efforts were always unwelcome: Paul can at least imagine a believing wife “saving” her unbelieving husband just as easily as he can imagine a believing husband “saving” his unbelieving wife – presumably by variously communicating her or his beliefs
71 On this reading husbands would be among the “foolish” whose “ignorance” must be “silenced” (1 Pet 2:15); cf. Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, 99, 103. 72 Acta Pauli 2.16. 73 Acta Pauli 2.20. 74 Note in particular, this woman’s alleged stubbornness, which recalls Pliny’s description of Christians unyielding in their faith before his authority. 75 2 Apol. 2.2.
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(1 Cor. 7:16).76 But such behavior was risky – “silence” was for the most part still considered an essential female virtue in the early Principate77 – and the author of 1 Peter strongly warns against taking that risk. Christian wives may attempt to “gain” their husbands for the faith, but they must do so “without a word”: a[neu lovgou kerdhqhvsontai (3:1b).78 They must rely instead on their “conduct,”79 which the author of 1 Peter stipulates must be visibly chaste and respectful: ejpopteuvsante~ th;n ejn fovbw`/ aJgnh;n ajnastrofh;n uJmw`n (3:2).80 Such behavior is of course designed to refute the kind of negative stereotyping evident in the excerpt from Apuleius quoted above, in which the Christian wife is caricatured as rebellious and promiscuous, a caricature that no doubt also lies behind texts such as Tit 2:3–5:81 [aiJ presbuvtide~] swfronivzwsin ta;~ neva~ filavndrou~ ei\nai, filotevknou~ swvfrona~ aJgna;~ oijkourgou;~ ajgaqav~, ujpotassomevna~ toi'~ ijdivoi~ ajndravsin, i{na mh; oJ lovgo~ tou' qeou' blasfhmh'tai.
This theme of acting in such as way as to contradict existing stereotypes is continued in the additional exhortation in 3:3–4a. Here the topos of adornment82 is adduced in order to further define the wife’s expected modesty. The topos is expressed by way of an antithesis, with the emphasis falling on the latter positive element: w|n e[stw oujc oJ e[xwqen ejmplokh'~ tricw`n kai; periqevsew~ crusivwn h] ejnduvsew~ iJmativwn kovsmo~ ajll j oJ krupto;~ th'~ kardiva~ a[nqrwpo~ ejn tw`/ ajfqavrtw/ tou' praevw~ kai; hJsucivou pneuvmato~. The wife’s silence and modesty is to be the outward display of “a meek and quiet spirit.”83 In support of this demanding task – made even more difficult in at least some cases by a hostile husband – the author of 1 Peter offers two motivating rationale statements (3:4b-6). These statements follow closely the pattern of similar rationale statements offered to domestic slaves in 2:19–25. The author first assures Christian wives that this degree of subjection is pleasing to God: o{ ejstin ejnwvpion tou' qeou' polutelev~ (3:4b). This is the same rationale he offered slaves in 2:19–20: tou'to cavri~ para; qew`/. He then cites an example. In
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tiv ga;r oi\da~, guvnai, eij to;n a[ndra swvsei~; h] tiv oi\da~, a[ner, eij th;n gunai'ka swvsei~; Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, 99; but see the recent volume by Bruce W. Winter, Roman Wives, Roman Widows: The Appearance of New Women and the Pauline Communities (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003). 78 There is wordplay here: the wives’ a[neu lovgou recalls the husbands’ ajpeiqou'sin tw`/ lovgw/ mentioned just a few words earlier. 79 The term appears at the end of 3:1 (dia; th'~ tw`n gunaikw`n ajnastrofh'~) and again in 3:2 (th;n ejn fovbw`/ aJgnh;n ajnastrofh;n uJmw`n). 80 Note again the emphasis on visible behavior; cf. 1 Pet 2:12. 81 Cf. 1 Tim 5:14; Didasc. Apos. 3 = Apos. Const. 1.10. 82 Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, 97, 101–2. 83 Cf. 1 Clem. 21.7. 77
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2:21–25 he cited the example of Christ. Here in 3:5–6 he cites the example of Sarah,84 who “submitted to” (uJpotassovmenai) and “obeyed” (uJphvkousen) Abraham. He also notes as a sign of her submission that Sarah called Abraham “lord” (kuvrion; 3:6).85 The final clause in 3:6b calls for two additional comments. It reads: h|~ ejgenhvqhte tevkna ajgaqopoiou'sai kai; mh; fobouvmenai mhdemivan ptovhsin (3:6b). The first item I wish to comment on is the participle ajgaqopoiou'sai. This explicitly carries forward the motif of “doing good” to refute the charge of “doing evil” from 2:12 and 2:14–15. In as much as it here means submitting to one’s husband, it also confirms our earlier claim that doing good is not some general ethical imperative, but an ethic constructed precisely to refute the antiChristian stereotyping confronting the readers of 1 Peter. The second item I wish to comment on is the injunction that wives, while continuing to “do good” by their husbands – i.e., to submit to them in wifely silence and in chaste and respectful behavior – must not allow themselves to be intimidated by their spouses (mh; fobouvmenai mhdemivan ptovhsin).86 This clearly implies that for at least some Christian wives the prospect of continuing to live with their nonChristian husband was terrifying (ptovhsin). The author of 1 Peter follows his advice to Christian wives with a brief word to Christian husbands. It is not altogether clear whether he has in mind Christian husbands in general or more narrowly Christian husbands of non-Christian wives, though the latter would fit the context nicely. It would also make sense of the opening expression in 3:7 (oiJ a[ndre~ oJmoivw~) which is identical to the opening expression in 3:1 (oJmoivw~ aiJ gunai'ke~). On this reading, husbands of nonChristian wives are to live with their spouses kata; gnw`sin, and to be especially careful to show them “honor” (timhvn) – mindful that they are “weaker vessels”87 – which according to 2:17 is the proper way to treat outsiders. They should do this because, even if their wives are not members of the household of God, it is
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Also like Christ (2:23) Sarah hoped in God (3:5). Troy W. Martin, “The TestAbr and the Background of 1 Pet 3,6,” ZNW 90 (1999) 139–46; cf. Aug., Conf. 9.19.22. The reference is to Gen 18:12 where Sarah mocks the angel who has promised her and Abraham a son: “So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, ‘After I have grown old, and my master [ynda; LXX kuvriov~ mou] too, shall I have this pleasure?’” The NRSV translated the offending ynda/kuvriov~ mou “my husband,” even though Abraham uses the expression (ynda) to refer to the angel at 18:2 where it is translated “lord.” 86 Cf. 3:14: to;n de; fovbon aujtw`n mh; fobhqh'te mhde; taracqh'te. The strategy in 2:11–3:12 is to preempt persecution by “compensatory” behavior. Of course, the prospect was ever present that this might not work. 87 On women as weaker: Pl., Resp. 455D; Leg. 6.781B; Jos., C. Ap. 2.201; Ep. Arist. 250–1., Philo. QG 3.3 (cited by Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 119–20); for the topos in Roman law, see Suzanne Dixon, “Infirmitas sexus: Womanly Weakness in Roman Law,” TRG/RHD 52 (1984) 343–71. 85
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through their wives that they have children,88 and because to dishonor their wives would cause God not to hear their prayers.89
“Finally, you should all strive to live in harmony” (1 Pet 3:8–12) The author of 1 Peter concludes his second piece of practical advice for coping with anti-Christian prejudice with a short paragraph (3:8–11) urging his readers to embrace an ethic of peaceful coexistence, or as his contemporaries would have put it, an ethic of oJmovnoia or “harmony.”90 Concord within both the state and the household – a hierarchically ordered concord to be sure – was an essential good universally acknowledged in the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire.91 1 Peter’s Christian readers were being accused of indiscriminately violating that standard at every level, and the author of 1 Peter has spend all of 2:11–3:7 advising them how to structure their behavior so as to refute this charge, first in regard to the state (2:13–17), and second in regard to the household (2:18–3:7). Now in 3:8–12 he summarizes that advice by urging them to openly adopt a broad ethic of concord or harmony so as to make it clear that they are not in any way sources of strife and discontent.92 For the most part the advice here is general: to; de; tevlo~ pavnte~ oJmovfrone~, sumpaqei'~, filavdelfoi, eu[splagcnoi, tapeinovfrone~ (3:8). The author does, however, highlight a few specifics, especially as regards the desire to retaliate: mh; ajpodidovnte~ kako;n ajnti; kakou' h] loidorivan ajnti; loidoriva~, toujnantivon de; eujlogou'nte~ (3:9a).93 He concludes with a lengthy quotation from Ps 34:13–17 (LXX). This is a well chosen text in that it promises a good life to those who “do good” (poihsavtw ajgaqovn; 3:11) as opposed to “doing evil” (poiou'nta~ kakav; 3:12). It also serves to mark the end of this section of the letter (1 Pet 2:11–3:12), just as the lengthy catena of biblical texts in 2:6–10 served to delimit 1 Pet 1:13–2:10.
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1 Pet 3:7b: wJ~ kai; sugklhronovmoi~ cavrito~ zwh'~. 1 Pet 3:7c: eij~ to; mh; ejgkovptesqai ta;~ proseuca;~ ujmw`n. 90 See the discussion in Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, 88–90. 91 This ideal was supported both by Hellenistic moral philosophy and Roman political ideology: for example, Dio Chrysostom’s four orations on harmony (Or. 38–41), as well as Aristides’s Or. 42 and 44 (all cited by Balch). 92 Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, 88: “1 Pet 3:8–12 constitutes a summary of the preceding code and stresses harmony in the household … the harmony sought is primarily domestic harmony between husband, wife, and slaves, not harmony among Christians as in 1 Clement [ch. 22].” 93 See Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, 88, 102–3, 111 n 30. 89
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“Keeping a good conscience” (1 Pet 3:13–4:11): Coping with Prejudice through “Attributional Ambiguity” [oJ de; òAttalo~] e{toimo~ eijsh'lqen ajgwnisth;~ dia; to; eujsuneivdhton, ejpeidh; gnhsivw~ ejn th Cristianh'Ê suntavxei gegumnasmevno~ h\n kai; ajei; mavrtu~ ejgegovnei par j hJmi'n ajlhqeiva~.*
The author of 1 Peter offers his third piece of practical advice on how to cope with anti-Christian prejudice in 3:13–4:11. It follows logically upon the advice offered in 2:11–3:12, which sought to preempt prejudice and its outcomes by proactively “compensating” for the social distance created by being a Christian. Now in 3:13–4:6 the author imagines a situation in which this problem-focused strategy has failed and prejudice has escalated into open hostility and judicial accusation. “Who will harm you if you become zealots for good?” he asks in 3:13, adding quickly, “But even if you should suffer …” (3:14a). His advice will exploit among other things what modern social psychologists call “attributional ambiguity,” the fact that targets of prejudice almost always have the option of attributing negative outcomes to the prejudice of others and thus of exonerating themselves of most if not all of the blame.1 When all else fails, the author of 1 Peter argues, one can at least endure persecution with a “good conscience” (suneivdhsi~ ajgaqhv; 3:16, 21), assured that one’s rejection is not one’s own fault but lies with the prejudice of others: “they are surprised that you no longer join them in the same excesses of dissipation, and that is why they slander you” (4:4).
* Eusebius, Historia ecclesiatica. 1 Note that at this point in the letter the author shifts from a problem-focused coping strategy (compensation) to an emotion-focused strategy (the creative attribution of blame). This is precisely what stress and coping theory predicts. When it is possible to alter a problematic situation, then one employs a problem-focused strategy. When it is not possible to alter that situation, then the only alternative is to seek to mediate the emotional impact of the stressor. Beginning with 3:13 the author imagines a situation in which confrontation and conflict cannot be avoided.
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There is, however, more on offer here than simply the creative attribution of blame. 2 For the fact that Christ himself suffered innocently and was vindicated3 promises to transform the good conscience of the persecuted Christian into a powerful and elevating religious experience animated by a sense of solidarity with Christ and the hope of similar vindication.4 An otherwise largely negative strategy (“I am not responsible for these outcomes”) is thus presented here as a positive one (“I am suffering as Christ did and will soon be vindicated as he was”). Further recommending this strategy is the fact that, according to our author, those who consciously identify with Christ’s sufferings effectively “cease from sin” (4:1). Thus to finish the above quote from 1 Pet 3:14a: “but even if you should suffer because of your righteousness, you are blessed (makavrioi).” How to achieve and maintain this “good conscience” and the “blessedness” it engenders is the topic of 3:13–4:11. I Pet 3:13–4:11 may be divided thus: (1) a transitional statement and new thesis that persecuted Christians are “blessed” (3:13–14a); (2) a four-step strategy for achieving this blessedness, with an emphasis on keeping a “good conscience” (3:14b-17); (3) a Christological proof that persecution (endured with a good conscience) leads to vindication and religious triumph (3:18–22); (4) an additional and final step for achieving blessedness, with further rationale statements (4:1–6); and (5) a concluding paragraph and doxology (4:7–11) that serves to conclude both the present section (2:13–4:11) and the central portion of the letter (1:13–4:11). 1 Pet 3:13–4:6 is a challenging text at many levels and my exegesis will necessarily be selective.
2 The modern social psychological category of coping with prejudice by means of attributional ambiguity is useful heuristically, but is not sufficient alone to interpret 1 Pet 3:13–4:6. We saw this above with regard to 1 Pet 1:13–2:10 (chapter 7), where the modern category of “psychological disidentification” was indeed helpful heuristically, but in the end we settled on “apocalyptic disidentification” as the best description of the strategy on offer. By way of contrast, the modern category of “compensation” was almost completely adequate for a description of coping strategy urged in 2:11–3:12 (chapter 8). 3 1 Pet 3:18–22. 4 This experience is summarized in 1 Pet. 4:13–14: kaqo; koinwnei'te toi'~ tou' Cristou' paqhvmasin caivrete, i{na kai; §n thÊ ajpokaluvyei th'~ dovxh~ aujtou' carh'te ajgalliwvmenoi. eij ojneidivzesqe ejn ojnovmati Cristou', makavrioi, o{ti to; th'~ dovxh~ kai; to; tou' qeou' penu'mata ejf j uJma'~ ajnapauvetai. 1 Peter’s Christology which emphasizes a strict homology between the heavenly Christ and his followers serves this end especially well, and here leads to a vicarious experience of his triumph.
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Attributional Ambiguity and Attribution Theory Before turning to 1 Pet 3:13–4:11 let me return briefly to my earlier discussion of “attributional ambiguity,”5 which has its basis in what modern social psychologists call Attribution Theory.6 Attribution Theory seeks to describe the processes and motivations by which persons assign or “attribute” causes to the events in the world, including the attitudes and actions of other people.7 A basic premise of Attribution Theory is that persons make a fundamental distinction between external or situational causes for which they can bear no personal responsibility and internal or dispositional causes for which they are at least in part responsible,8 and that while the latter of these (i.e., internal or dispositional causes) have a significant impact on one’s self-esteem, the former (i.e., external or situational causes) generally do not.9 Attribution Theory also holds that persons tend to assign causes in ways that allow them feel good about themselves or their group, which among other things means being able to make favorable comparisons with others.10 So, for example, when we succeed at a task, we tend to attribute that success to internal or dispositional causes in order to take credit for the success (“I got the job because I am a hard worker”). However, when we fail at a task, then in order to avoid selfcensure we will tend to attribute that failure to external or situational causes (“I made a bad grade on that test because I did not have enough time to study”). Inversely, when someone else succeeds at a task, especially someone from a competing outgroup, we tend to attribute this to situational causes (“She got the job because she is a minority”), whereas when someone else fails, we tend to attribute this to dispositional causes (“He failed because he does not study as hard 5 Discussed above in chapter 5. The classic essay is Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem”; for a recent review see: Jennifer Crocker and Brenda Major, “The Self-Protective Properties of Stigma: Evolution of a Modern Classic,” Psychological Inquiry 14 (2003) 232–7; Major, et al., “Prejudice and Self-Esteem: A Transactional Model.” 6 Jones et al.. Attribution; cf. Weiner, “An Attributional Theory of Achievement Motivation and Emotion”; idem, “Attribution, Emotion and Action”; esp. Bernard Weiner, Raymond P. Perry, and Jamie Magnusson, “An Attributional Analysis of Reactions to Stigma,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 55 (1988) 738–48. 7 Miles Hewstone, Causal Attribution: From Cognitive Processes to Collective Beliefs (Oxford: Blackwell, 1989). 8 As early as Fritz Heider, The Psychology of Interpersonal Relations (New York: Wiley, 1958). 9 Bernard Weiner, An Attributional Theory of Motivation and Emotion (New York: Springer, 1986); cf. idem, Judgments of Responsibility (New York: Guilford Press, 1995). 10 Melvin L. Snyder, Walter G. Stephan, and David Rosenfield, “Attributional Egotism,” in John. H. Harvey, William Ickes, and Robert F. Kidd, eds., New Directions in Attribution Research. Volume 2 (Hillside, NJ: Erlbaum, 1978) 91–120; Garth J. O. Fletcher and Colleen Ward, “Attributional Theory and Processes: A Cross-Cultural Perspective,” in Michael Harris Bond, ed., The Cross Cultural Challenge to Social Psychology (Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1988) 230–44.
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as I do”).11 Crocker and Major have shown that these well-documented attributional strategies can be particularly helpful to targets of prejudice seeking to manage negative feelings stemming from negative outcomes, since it is almost always possible to attribute those outcomes to the prejudice of others or, as the case may be, to certain larger structures of social injustice.12 Early Christians employed several attributional strategies to deflect the sense of guilt and shame that would normally come from the kind of broad social criticism they experienced.13 First and foremost, they blamed their persecutors for being wrongly prejudiced against them, which was no doubt often the case. Justin is clear that Christians have done nothing to warrant the hostility of their neighbors: “We are only hated on account of the name of Christ, and though we do no wrong we are put to death as sinners.”14 Rather, it is the neighbors themselves and their upbringing that are to blame, since they have been raised to hate the righteous: “[our persecutors] were brought up licentiously in their wicked customs, and are prejudiced in their own opinions.”15 Tertullian is even more scathing, claiming that the opponents of Christians are willfully ignorant: “Because they already dislike us, they want to know no more; they prejudge that of which they are ignorant.”16 This type of blame-shifting clearly underlies 1 Pet 4:4: “they are surprised that you no longer join them in the same excesses of dissipation, and that is why they slander you.”17 In addition to blaming their neighbors for their failed social relations, early Christians also blamed evil spirits, especially Satan, a strategy made particularly persuasive because of their apocalyptic beliefs.18 Thus Rev 2:10 sees the 11 Thomas F. Pettigrew, “The Ultimate Attribution Error: Extending Allport’s Cognitive Analysis of Prejudice,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 5 (1979) 461–76; Miles Hewstone, “The ‘Ultimate Attribution Error’: A Review of the Literature on Intergroup Causal Attribution,” European Journal of Social Psychology 20 (1990) 311–35; cf. Donald M. Taylor and Vaishna Jaggi, “Ethnocentrism and Causal Attribution in a S. Indian Context,” Journal of Cross Cultural Psychology 5 (1974) 162–71; M. Hewstone and Colleen Ward, “Ethnocentrism and Causal Attribution in Southeast Asia,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 48 (1985) 614–23. 12 See Crocker and Major, “Social Stigma and Self-Esteem” and the discussion above in chapter 5. 13 Their persecutors, of course, placed the blame squarely on the Christians themselves, claiming that they were anti-social, atheistic, impious in their social and religious behavior and so on. These strategies had already been developed in Judaism. 14 1 Apol. 24.1. 15 1 Apol. 57.1. 16 Apol. 1.9. Cf. 40.1: “They deserve the name of “faction” who conspire to bring odium on good and virtuous people, who cry out for innocent blood, offering as the justification of their baseless plea, that they think Christians to be the cause of every public disaster, or every affliction with which the people are visited”; also 49.4. 17 It also underlies the repeated emphasis on keeping a “good conscience” (suneivdhsi~ ajgaqhv; 1 Pet 3:16, 21), for which see the discussion below. 18 In addition to the texts quoted in this paragraph, see: Ign., Rom. 5.3; Mart. Pol. 2.4 (3.1);
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“Devil” behind the persecution of Christians: ijdou; mevllei bavllein oJ diavbolo~ ejx uJmw`n eij~ fulakh;n i{na peirasqh'te kai; e{xete qli'yin hJmerw`n devka. Justin attributes anti-Christian stereotyping itself to demonic inspiration: “Wicked demons have scattered many false and godless accusations … none of which attach to us.”19 According to the Martyrdom of Polycarp, the “Evil One” even causes the shameful mistreatment of the dead bodies of martyrs. 20 According to 1 Pet 5:8 the present outbreak of persecution has been orchestrated by Satan, who like “a roaring lion [is] seeking whom he might devour.” Third, and somewhat ironically – but no doubt to very good effect – early Christians also attributed their sufferings to God. “We are suffering because we are being tested and purified by God in advance of our apocalyptic reward,” was an increasingly common explanation.21 The claim that the sufferings of the people of God are really divine discipline aimed at moral improvement is characteristic of Jewish wisdom, 22 and it was often utilized in prophetic consolation. 23 It becomes an especially common theme in Jewish apocalypticism, where the last days are held to be a time of intense suffering for the righteous whom God is purifying for their eschatological reward. 24 The theme is ubiquitous in early Christianity. 25 It is an especially prominent theme in 1 Peter, where anti-Christian prejudice and its harsh outcomes constitute “the will of God” (to; qevlhma tou' qeou'; 3:17; cf. 4:19). 26 Indeed, 1 Peter
Ascen. Isa. 3.11, 13; 5.1, 15; Just., Dial. 131; 1 Apol. 5.1; 23.3; 2 Apol. 1.2; 8.2; Eus., Hist. eccl. (= Mart. Lugd.) 5.1.5–6 and passim; Mart. Perp. 10.14; 20.1; Orig., C. Cels. 6.42 ; cf. Buschmann, Martyrium des Polykarp, 113–4. 19 1 Apol. 10.6. 20 Mart. Pol. 17.1–2. 21 E.g., Jas 1:2–4, which despite its connections to wisdom traditions (Prov 27:21 LXX) must also be read as an apocalyptic text (e.g., Jas 5:7–11). 22 Prov 3:11–12; Ps 94:12; Job 5:17–18; cf. Pss. Sol. 3.3–4; 10.1–4; 13.6–11. 23 Hos 5:15–6:6; Isa 54:7–8; cf. Deut 32:39. 24 Dan 11:35, for which see Collins, Daniel, 386; see further 4 Ezra 7:14 “unless the living pass through many difficult and vain experiences, they can never receive those things that have been reserved for them”; 2 Bar. 13.1–12; 78.6; cf. Rev 7:14. The theme appears also in 2 Macc 6:12–17; Wisd 3:5, for which see, Winston, Wisdom of Solomon, 127. 25 Key texts include: 1 Thess 3:3–4; 2 Thess 1:3–12; Matt 7:14; Acts 14:22; Heb 12:7–12; Herm. Vis. 2.2.7; Barn. 7.11. Tertullian makes a great deal of this theme in his De fuga in persecutione, for which see Barnes, Tertullian, 178–83. For a general discussion see Hans Dieter Betz, The Sermon on the Mount: A Commentary on the Sermon on the Mount including the Sermon on the Plain (Matthew 5:3–7:27 and Luke 6:20–49) (Hermeneia: Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995) 520–7. 26 This is a major theme in the letter. According to 1:6–8, present hostilities are “necessary” (devon) in order to purify the readers’ faith like “gold refined in a fire” (crusivou dia; puro;~ dokimazomevnou). Indeed, God is beginning his final “judgment” (krivma) of the world, the first phase of which is to judge “the household of God” (tou' oi[kou tou' qeou'; 4:17) itself. The readers should humbly submit to the “mighty hand of God” (th;n krataia;n cei'ra tou' qeou') in order that “he might exalt [them] in due time” (uJywvsh/ ejn kai rw'/; 5:6).
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concludes with the assurance that the readers’ present ordeal is “the true grace of God” (ajlhqh' cavrin tou' qeou'; 5:12).
“But even if you should suffer …” (1 Pet 3:13–14a) 1 Pet 3:13 is transitional. It summarizes the earlier thesis of 2:11–3:12 that Christians who take it upon themselves to “compensate” for the social distance created by their stigma will typically succeed in neutralizing the prejudice of their non-Christian neighbors: “Who will harm you if you become zealots for the good?” (kai; tiv~ oJ kakwvswn uJma'~ eja;n tou' ajgaqou' zhlwtai; gevnhsqe;). In other words, Christians who make themselves “zealots for the good”27 may expect to fare well in their social relationships despite the fact that their neighbors are prejudiced against them. But there will be exceptions to this, and in 3:14a such an exception is introduced in those who are zealots for the good and are still persecuted: “but even if you should suffer on account of righteousness” (ajll j eij kai; pavscoite dia; dikaiosuvnhn). This in turn gives way to a new thesis: that those who are zealots for good and are still persecuted on account of righteousness are “blessed” (makavrioi). 28 Two elements in 3:14a call for brief comment: (1) the requirement of suffering dia; dikaiosuvnhn, “on account of righteousness” and (2) the promise that those who fulfill this requirement are makavrioi, “blessed.” The author of 1 Peter envisages a specific category of suffering in 3:14ff., the suffering of the righteous.29 This type of suffering poses significant theological and philosophical problems and was a common theme in both Jewish and Greco-Roman literature. 30 It is generally referred to as the topos of the righteous sufferer (der leidende Gerechte), which took both a weak and a strong form. According to the weak form a person is represented as suffering in spite of his or her righteousness.31 According 27 Cf. 1 Cor 14:12, where the Corinthian enthusiasts are called zhlwtai; pneumavtwn; Gal 1:14: zhlwth;~ tw`n patrikw`n mou paradovsew~. 28 The author of 1 Peter here rewrites what was no doubt a pre-existing macarism (“Blessed are those who suffer on account of righteousness”), placing the adjective “blessed” in the apodosis of a conditional sentence, as he does again at 4:14 (eij ojneidivzesqe ejn ojnovmati Cristou', makavrioi). See further, Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 235 n. 15, who cites also Herm. Mand. 8:9. 29 The theme of the righteous in 1 Pet 3:14a is introduced in the quotation from Ps 34 in 3:12: o{ti ojfqelmoi; kurivou ejpi; dikaivou~. Here righteousness is equated with “doing good” (poihsavtw ajgaqovn; 3:11), which will become important in the interpretation of 3:17 below, where ajgaqopoiou'nta~ recalls dia; dikaiosuvnhn in 3:14a (cf. also poiou'nta~ kakav in 3:12 and kakopoiou'nta~ in 3:17). 30 See Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, 142–6. 31 The weak form appears in 1 Pet 2:20: poi'on ga;r kl e V o~ eij aJmartavnonte~ kai; kolafizovmenoi uJpomenei'te; ajll j eij ajgaqopoiou'nte~ kai; pavsconte~ uJpomenei'te, tou'to cavri~ para; qew`/.
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to the strong form, however, a person suffers precisely because of his or her righteousness.32 In 1 Pet 3:14a the author of 1 Peter obviously has the strong form in mind: ajll j eij kai; pavscoite dia; dikaiosuvnhn. Socrates was a parade example of this strong form of the topos, as was the so-called suffering “servant of Yahweh” in Second Isaiah.33 The author of the Wisdom of Solomon explores this topos in its strong form at length in the first six chapters of his work. Needless to say, early Christians interpreted mutatis mutandis Jesus’ death according to the strong form of the suffering righteous topos.34 In adducing the topos of the righteous sufferer, which arguably becomes the Leitmotif of 3:13–4:11,35 the author of 1 Peter moves beyond the broader consolatory theme of suffering as a form of testing that perfects the sufferer, to the related but much more narrowly focused theme of suffering because one is in some significant sense already righteous. To be sure, this more specific form of suffering can still perfect the sufferer.36 But in the case of persecuted Christians it has the added benefit of bringing them into line with Christ’s own suffering. Objectively, this means that Christians who have suffered like Christ in this world will be glorified with him in the world to come. Subjectively, however, it means that suffering Christians can even now enjoy a sense camaraderie with the suffering Christ.37 I will return to this important point below, but here I would note that it is precisely this subjective awareness of the Christ-like nature of one’s suffering that makes the question of a “good conscience” (suneivdhsi~ ajgaqhv; 3:16, 21) so salient for the readers of 1 Peter. For to forfeit a good conscience necessarily means forgoing the belief that one is suffering after the 32 The book of Job illustrates this distinction. In the text as it now stands, Job does indeed suffer “on account of righteousness” in as much as he is targeted by Satan for just this reason (chs. 1–2). But if these first two chapters which are commonly thought to be a later addition are removed, then Job is not an example of one who suffers on account of his righteousness, but one who suffers in spite of his righteousness. In other words, Job’s righteousness does not protect him from suffering. 33 Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, 144–5, who cites Lothar Ruppert, Der leidende Gerechte: Eine motivsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zum Alten Testament und zwischentestamentlichen Judentum (Würzburg: Echter, 1973); cf. Karl-Theodor Kleinknecht, Der leidende Gerechtfertigte: Die altestamentliche Tradition vom “leidenden Gerechten” und ihre Rezeption bei Paulus (2nd ed.; WUNT 2.13; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987); Ernst Benz, Der gekreuzigte Gerechte bei Plato, im Neuen Testament und in der alten Kirche (Weisbaden: Steiner, 1950). 34 See the survey in Lothar Ruppert, Jesus als der leidende Gerechte? Der Weg Jesu im Lichte eines alt- und zwischentesttamentlichen Motivs (SBS 5; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1972). 35 The suffering righteous becomes the theme of 3:13–4:11, much like membership in the apocalyptic family of God was the theme for 1:13–2:10, and being a sojourner in this world was the theme for 2:11–3:12; cf. Martin, Metaphor and Composition in 1 Peter, 208–40. 36 E.g., Wisd 3:1–9; cf. 1 Pet 4:1 (cf. 1:6–7). 37 1 Pet 4:13: koinwnei'te toi'~ tou' Cristou' paqhvmata; cf. Phil 3:10: th;n koinwnivan tw`n paqhmavtwn aujtou'; also 1 Pet 2:21.
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manner of Christ, which is part and parcel of what it means to be “blessed” (makavrioi; 3:14; 4:14) in one’s suffering. This brings us to the second element in 3:14a calling for comment, and that is the promise that those who suffer on account of righteousness are “blessed” (makavrioi). This promise appears elsewhere in both Jewish and early Christian tradition. Typically it describes the eschatological state of the rewarded righteous.38 This is the point of 2 Bar. 48.48–9: But now, let us cease talking about the wicked and inquire about the righteous. I will tell you about their blessedness; I shall not keep silent about their glory which is kept for them.
It is also the point of Matt 5:10: makavrioi oij dediwgnevnoi e{neken dikaiosuvnh~, o{ti aujtw`n ejstin hJ basileiva tw`n oujranw`n.39 In 1 Peter, however, Christians who suffer on account of righteousness, though certainly rewarded in the world to come,40 are also blessed in this life – a fact that will decisively shape the coping strategy recommended in 3:13–4:11, as we shall see below.41 The key text explicating this blessedness is 1 Pet 4:13–14, where the blessedness that comes from being reviled for the name of Christ is equated both with (1) the joyful anticipation of eschatological beatitude: ajlla; kaqo; koinwnei'te toi'~ tou' Cristou' paqhvmasin caivrete, i{na kai; §n thÊ ajpokaluvyei th'~ dovxh~ aujtou' carh'te ajgalliwvmenoi, and (2) a present ecstatic experience of the Spirit of God: eij ojneidivzesqe ejn ojnovmati Cristou', makavrioi, o{ti to; th'~ dovxh~ kai; to; tou' qeou' pneuvma ejf j uJma'~ ajnapauvetai. Similar language appears at the beginning of the letter at 1:8 to describe the present ecstasy of the persecuted believer whose faith makes real to him or her the glorified Christ: eij~ o}n [= jIhsou'n Cristo;n] a[rti mh; oJrw`nte~ pisteuvonte~ de; ajgallia'sqe cara'/ ajneklalhvtw/ kai; dedoxasmevnh/.42 It bears repeating that this present subjective experience is possible only for those who maintain a “good conscience” throughout their present sufferings.
“With meekness and respect” (1 Pet 3:14b-16) The thesis that unjustly persecuted Christians are makavrioi or “blessed” (3:14a) is developed in a series of practical recommendations in 3:14b-16.43 Berger has classified these recommendations as an instance of Jewish martyriumsparä38
Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 235. But see Betz, Sermon on the Mount, 92–105, who argues that this blessedness is also a religious experience in the present; cf. Hymn. Cer. 480–2. 40 1 Pet 1:9, 13; 2:19–20; 4:13; 5:1, 4, 10. 41 Berger, Historische Psychologie des Neuen Testaments, 205–8. 42 Berger, Historische Psychologie des Neuen Testaments, 205. 43 Note the shift to the imperative: mh; fobhqh'te mhde taracqh'te … aJgiavsate … ktl. 39
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nese.44 Brox goes one step further and calls 1 Pet 3:14b-16 a “praeparatio ad martyrium.”45 The latter description is particularly apt in that it invites comparison with the stepwise exercises or mental preparations Epictetus recommends that his students undertake before coming into the presence of a highlevel Roman official.46 The goal of the recommendations set out in 1 Pet 3:14b-16 is to prepare the readers for active persecution, and in particular to enable them when persecuted to experience the blessedness promised in 3:14a. This will be accomplished if they keep a “good conscience” throughout their ordeal (3:16). Let me comment on these steps in order. The first step one must take in readying oneself to cope with prejudice that has escalated to open hostility is to regulate one’s involuntary emotional response,47 or to put it more simply, to control one’s “fear” (fovbo~). 1 Pet 3:14a reads: to;n de; fovbon aujtw`n mh; fobhqh'te mhde; taracqh'te (3:14b). This is an almost verbatim quotation from Isa 8:12b LXX: to;n de; fovbon [tou' laou' touvtou] ouj mh; fobhqh'te oujde; mh; taracqh'te.48 Berger includes Isa 8:12 in his list of early Jewish martyriumsparänese. He cites by way of further example 1 En. 95.3: “Fear not the sinners, O righteous; for the Lord will deliver them into your hand, that you may execute judgment on them as you desire.” 49 This latter reference is especially illuminating since it comes from the so-called Epistle of Enoch (1 En. 92–105), which like 1 Peter also appears to have been composed for a persecuted religious minority.50 Other examples of “martyriumsparänese” from the Epistle of Enoch would include: 1 En. 96:3: “Fear not, you who have suffered”; 1 En. 103:4: “Fear not therefore their reproaches”; and 1 En. 104:6:
44 Klaus Berger, Formgeschichte des Neuen Testaments (Heidelberg: Quelle & Meyer, 1984) 146. 45 Erster Petrusbrief, 158; cf. Reichert, Eine urchristliche Praeparatio ad Martyrium. One may, of course, wish to query the use of the term “martyr” in a technical sense at this early stage, but this quibble takes little away from the basic insight regarding the purpose of 1 Pet 3:14b-16. On this problem see Brox’s own important study, Zeuge und Märtyrer: Untersuchungen zur frühchristlichen Zeugnis-Terminologie (Munich: Kösel-Verlag, 1961). 46 E.g., Diss 1.1.22; 1.30; cf. 1.19; 4.1.172; translation and commentary in Dobbin, Epictetus: Discourses Book I; cf. Long, “Representations and the Self in Stoicism.” On fear, see esp. Diss. 3.24.117: a]n d j a{pax peripoihvsh/ to; a[lupon kai a[fobon, e[ti soi tuvranno~ e[stai ti~ h] dorufovro~ h] Kaisarianoiv. 47 For the need for stigmatized persons to regulate their “involuntary emotional response” to stress open prejudice, see Miller and Kaiser, “A Theoretical Perspective on Coping with Stigma,” 83. 48 Formgeschichte des Neuen Testaments, 145. 49 The vindictiveness of which – “as you desire” – is striking; cf. Esth 9:5: “So the Jews smote all their enemies with the sword, slaughtering and destroying them, and did as they pleased to those who hated them.” See further the discussion in Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 464, who aptly notes that “the measure of judgment is not the command of God (Deut 31:5) but the desire of the righteous” (emphasis added). 50 See Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 425–9.
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“Fear not, O righteous, when you see sinners increasing in strength and prospering.”51 The author of 1 Peter’s choice of Isa 8:12b is apt. Isaiah has criticized king Ahaz for his plans to appeal to Assyria for help in the Syro-Phonecian War, and in doing so he has left himself open to the charge of “conspiracy.”52 Indeed, judging from Isa 8:12a – “do not call ‘conspiracy’ all that these people are calling ‘conspiracy’” – Isaiah has already been labeled a conspirator. The oracle of 8:11–15 is obviously intended to steady Isaiah in this dangerous situation, which it apparently does since we next find Isaiah recording his predictions as proof against his accusers when they come to pass (8:16–17). The exhortation to control one’s fear in the face of persecution appears in early Christian literature in such texts as Matt 10:28: mh; fobei'sqe ajpo; tw`n ajpoktennovntwn to; sw`ma, th;n de; yuch;n mh; dunamevnwn ajpoktei'nai ktl, and Rev 2:10: mhde;n fobou' a} mevllei~ pavscein, ijdou; mevllei oJ diavbolo~ ejx uJmw`n eij~ fulakh;n ktl.53 The second step one must take in preparing to cope with active persecution builds on the first step of controlling one’s fear: it is to resolve to hold firmly to one’s religious commitments, and in particular one’s commitment to Christ (and not Caesar) as “lord”: kuvrion de; to;n Cristo;n aJgiavsate ejn tai'~ kardivai~ uJmw`n (3:15a). According to Mart. Pol. 8.2, Polycarp was urged by his persecutors to confess “Caesar is lord” (Kuvrio~ Kai'sar).54 This second recommendation continues with the Isaiah text, picking up key words (kuvrion and aJgiavsate) from Isa 8:13: kuvrion aujto;n aJgiavsate, kai; aujto;~ e[stai sou fovbo~. Berger cites as a further example of this phenomenon 4 Macc. 13.13, where the seven brothers exhort each other to reaffirm their commitment to God in preparation for their ordeal: eJautouv~, e[legon, tw`/ qew`/ ajfierwvswmen ejx o{lh~ th'~ kardiva~ tw`/ dovnti ta;~ yucav~. A similar distinction in levels of commitment is reflected in 1 Pet 2:17: to;n qeo;n fobei'sqe, to;n basileva tima'te.55 Epictetus also urged his students to hold firmly to their religious/philosophical commitments as part of their Stoic praeparatio. At Diss. 1.30 he asks them to imagine that they have been summonsed by a high-ranking official and then offers them advice on how to prepare for this. This advice consists in their re51 All of these texts are from the Epistle of Enoch (1 En. 92–105); for the relationship between the Epistle and 1 Peter, see Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 560; that the Epistle presupposes an oppressed community, ibid., 426–7. 52 Hebrew rvq; LXX has sklhrovn, which reminds of Pliny’s pertinaciam certe et inflexibilem obstinationem (Ep. 10.96.3). 53 Cf. 4 Macc. 13.14; Luke 12:4–5; Acts 18:9. 54 Tiv ga;r kakovn ejstin eijpei'n, Kuvrio~ Kai'sar; for which see the discussion in Buschmann, Das Martyrium des Polycarp, 170–1. 55 Cf. 1 Pet 2:13: uJpotavghte pavsh/ ajnqrwpivnh/ ktivsei … ei[te basilei' wJ~ uJperevconti, ei[te hJgemovsin wJ~ di j aujtou' pempomevnoi~; for which see Horrell, 1 Peter, 86–88, who also cites Mart. Scil. 8–9 for the same distinction; cf. idem, “Between Conformity and Resistance.”
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hearsing their philosophical principles as if examined by God. Diss. 1.30.1–5 is worth quoting at length:56 Whenever you come before one of the great ones, remember that another [= God] looks down from above at what goes on, and it is more important to please him. He, then, asks you, “What did you call exile, jail, chains, death, and ill repute in your school?” “I called them indifferent.” “And what do you call them now? Have they changed at all?” “No.” “Have you changed?” “No.” “Tell me, then, what are the indifferents?” “Things independent of moral character.” “Tell me what follows.” “Things independent of moral character are nothing to me.” “And tell me what you thought [when you were at school] good things were.” “Proper moral character and the use of impressions.” “And what is the goal of life?” “To follow you.” “Is this what you say now?” “I say the same things now.” Then remember these things, and go before the great man with confidence.
As in 1 Pet 3:15a, the point of this prayer-like conversation with God is to reaffirm the student’s commitments in advance of his interrogation.57 These commitments ultimately reduce to a resolve to “follow” God.58 The third step one must take in preparing for active persecution is to be ready at all times to give a defense of one’s faith (here “hope”) to anyone who calls one to account: e{toimoi ajei; pro;~ ajpologivan panti; tw`/ aijtou'nti uJma'~ lovgon peri; th'~ ejn uJmi'n ejlpivdo~ (3:15b). The most natural sense of the language here (ajpologiva; aijtei'n tina; lovgon) is a formal defense in a court of law.59 Commentators have resisted this interpretation on the grounds that 1 Peter presupposes popular slander and therefore does not envisage official persecution. But as I have already argued,60 this is to misunderstand the nature of early Christian persecutions, which as Feldmeier has observed almost “always began with enraged citizens” with Christians being “delivered up to judgment by their own neighbors, even their own relatives.”61 Of course, as soon as one recognizes that judicial action against Christians in the early Roman Empire typically began with popular prejudice, there is no reason not to take the language of 3:15b in its natural sense.62 56
Here I follow the translation of Dobbin, Epictetus: Discources Book I, 233–4. Dobbin, Epictetus 233: “god catechizes the philosopher on his principles.” 58 See further discussion in Dobbin, Epictetus, 140–1; cf. Diss. 1.25.13. 59 Cf. Mart. Pol. 10.1–2. 60 See chapters 1 and 3 above. 61 Feldmeier, “A ‘Nation’ of Strangers,” 252. 62 I have already discussed in chapter 3 above the objection that panti; tw`/ aijtou'nti uJma'~ lovgon, “to everyone who demands an account,” implies a wider context than a court of law. To repeat: I agree that pantiv has the effect of widening the audience, but in the context the effect of that widening is to include the governor not the neighbor or person on the street. Popular prejudice was addressed in 2:11–3:12. Now in 3:13–4:11 a situation is imagined in which that prejudice has landed a Christian or group of Christians (note the second person plural) in court. I interpret the sense of pantiv in 3:15b to be something like: “be ready to offer an defense of your faith to everyone who demands an account – even if that means the governor or his representative.” 57
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In anticipation of being “called to account”63 before a court of law for their faith – a practice that had begun to take place in the eastern Roman provinces no later that the early 90’s c.e.64 – the readers should be “prepared” (e{toimoi)65 at all times to give a “defense” or ajpologiva “regarding the hope that is in you” (peri; th'~ ejn uJmi'n ejlpivdo~). We can only imagine what the content of these prepared “apologies” might have included. Early Apologists like Justin and Tertullian included in their tracts lengthy expositions of the central tenets of the Christian faith, and in certain martyrologies confessing Christians are depicted as trying to preach the gospel to their judges.66 Based on the content of 1 Peter 2:11–3:12, the author will at the very least have wanted his readers to assure Roman officials that Christianity was not a disruptive cult that subverted existing social institutions such as slavery and marriage or that was dismissive of Roman rule.67 The recommendation in 3:15b to be prepared to give a defense stands in stark contrast such texts in the early Jesus tradition as Mark 13:11, Matt 10:19–20, and Luke 21:14–15.68 Like 1 Peter, these persecution logia also describe Christians “hated on account of [Christ’s] name,”69 which hatred has led to their being summonsed before “governors and kings.”70 Unlike 1 Peter, however, these texts do not recommend preparing a defense beforehand. Rather, they promise prophetic-like inspiration by the Holy Spirit and urge Christians to trust in this alone.71 Thus Mark 13:11:72 63 BDAG, s.v. aijtevw: “aij. tina; lovgon demand an accounting fr. someone, call someone to account” (italics original), citing Pl., Pol. 285e; cf. BGU 747.21. For similar courtroom language in 1 Peter, see 4:5: oi} ajpodwvsousin lovgon tw`/ eJtoivmw~ e[conti kri'nai zw`nta~ kai; nekrouv~. 64 Plin., Ep. 10.96.6: non nemo ante viginti [annos]. 65 See Mart. Pol. 18.3: e√V te th;n tw`n prohqlhkovtwn mnhvmhn kai; tw`n mellovntwn a[skhsivn te kai; eJtoimasivan; cf. Xen., Mem. 4.5.12: dei'n ou\n peira'sqai o{ti mavlista pro;~ tou'to eJauto;n e{toimon paraskeuavzein kai; touvtou mavlista ejpimelei'sqai. Epictetus’s expression is provceiron e[cein, “to have ready to hand” (cf. Diss. 1.30; 2:1.29: tau'ta meleta'te kai; tau'ta provceira e[cete). 66 E.g., Mart. Scil. 4; cf. Mart. Pol. 10.1: Cristianov~ eijmi. eij de; qevlei~ to;n tou' Cristianismou' maqei'n lovgon, do;~ hJmevran kai; a[kouson. 67 In this regard 3:13–17 continues the problem-focused approach of 2:11–3:12: early Christians attempting to educate their detractors. For education as a coping strategy, see chapter 5 above. 68 Cf. Luke 12:11–12. 69 Mark 13:9: ejpi; hJgemovnwn kai; basilevwn staqhvsesqe e{neken ejmou'; cf. Matt 10:17; Luke 21:12. 70 Mark 13:13: kai; e[sesqe misouvmenoi uJpo; pavntwn dia; to; o[nomav mou; cf. Matt 10:22; Luke 21:17; cf. Luke 21:12. 71 G. W. H. Lampe, “Martyrdom and Inspiration,” in William Horbury and Brian McNeil, eds., Suffering and Martyrdom in the New Testament: Studies Presented to G. M. Styler by the Cambridge New Testament Seminar (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981) 118–35 (published posthumously after Professor Lampe’s death on August 5, 1980). 72 Matt 10:19 turns the command o} eja;n doqh'Ê uJmi'n ejn ejkeivnh/ th'Ê w{ra/, tou'to lalei'te into
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kai; o{tan a[gwsin òma~ paradidovnte~, mh; promerimnate tiv lalhvshte, ajll j o} eja;n doqh uJmin ejn ejkeivnh/ th w{ra/, touto laleite: ouj ga;r ejste uJmei~ oiJ lalounte~ ajlla; to; pneuma to; a{gion.
According to Luke 24:14–15 Jesus explicitly forbade “practicing in advance”:73 qevte ou\n ejn tai~ kardiva~ uJmw'n mh; promeletan ajploghqh'nai: ejgw; ga;r dwvsw uJmin stovma kai; sofivan, h|/ ouj dunhvsontai ajntisth'nai h] ajnteipein a{pante~ oiJ ajntikeivmenoi uJmin
The author of 1 Peter is obviously uncomfortable with this policy of relying on the spirit of the moment, and urges his readers to prepare for their defenses before hand. This brings us to the fourth step one must take in preparing for open persecution, which is that in constructing one’s defense one should aim at being as inoffensive as possible: ajlla; meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbou. Thanks to the “spirit” of prophecy that possessed them when they were called to account for their faith, early Christians were frequently defiant before their accusers and judges,74 which not surprisingly led to very negative outcomes.75 According to Acts 5 Peter and other early apostles, after haranguing the Sanhedrin for savagely “hanging [Jesus] on a tree,”76 barely escaped with a flogging. Two chapters later in Acts 7 Stephen’s verbal scourging of this same body resulted in his immediate stoning. Even more brutal prospects faced Christians who remonstrated before Roman magistrates. Roman provincial governors held the power of life and death (ius gladii) over their non-Roman subjects, which included degrading forms of execution which they frequently used and for which they were rarely questioned. Christians who displayed “pertinacity and inflexible obstinacy”77 before a Roman magistrate were almost without exception ruled against and mercilessly sentenced.78
a promise of reassurance: mh; merimnhvshte, pw`~ h} tiv lalhvshte: doqhvsetai ga;r uJmi'n ejn ejkeivnh/ th w}ra/ tiv lalhvshte. 73 Cf. Luke 12:11: o{tan de; eijsfevrwsin uJma'~ ejpi; ta;~ sunagwga;~ kai; ta;~ ajrca;~ kai; ta;~ ejxousiva~, mh; merimnhvsete pw`~ h] tiv ajpologhvshsqe h] tiv ei[phte. 74 Cf. Mark 13:9: eij~ martuvrion aujtoi'~, “for a witness against them” (Matt 10:18 adds kai; toi'~ e[qneisn). 75 Such defiance was, of course, applauded in many quarters. This ideal is well represented in the Acta Alexandrinorum (or so-called “Acts of the Pagan Martyrs”): Acta Appiani, 3.9–11; Acta Hermaisci 3.50–3; cf. Philostr., Vita Apoll. 8.6. For trials as “contests” in which defiant Christians defeat their judges, see David S. Potter, “Martyrdom as Spectacle,” in Ruth Scodel, ed., Theater and Society in the Classical World (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1993) 53–88. 76 Acts 5:30; cf. Deut 21:22–3. 77 Pliny’s famous characterization of Christians appearing in his court at Ep. 10.96.3: Neque enim dubitabam … pertinaciam certe et inflexibilem obstinationem debere puniri. 78 These exceptions were collected, for obvious reasons, by Tertullian in his Ad Scapulam.
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The author of 1 Peter no doubt had these courtroom dynamics in mind when he urged his readers to prepare defenses that while uncompromising were meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbou. Indeed, it is reasonable to assume that it was precisely in order to prevent these kinds of dangerous outbreaks of the “spirit” that he broke with the logia tradition and urged his readers to prepare defenses in the first place.79 But there was an even more important reason why he wanted Christians to be meek and respectful before their judges, and that is that they might maintain a “good conscience,” the subjective assurance that they are not at fault, throughout their ordeal: ajlla;; meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbou, suneivdhsin e[conte~ ajgaqhvn (3:16a).80 This conscience brings with it a number of benefits, not the least of which is that it allows the persecuted Christian to shift the onus of shame onto his or her opponents: i{na ejn w|/ katalalei'sqe kataiscunqw`sin oiJ ejphreavzonte~ uJmw`n th;n ajgaqh;n ejn Cristw`/ ajnastrofhvn (3:16b).81 It also, as he will later put it, affords the suffering Christian a feeling of realistically sharing in the sufferings of Christ, which feeling translates into an experience of the eschatological “Spirit of glory and of God”: kaqo; koinwnei'te toi'~ tou' Cristou' paqhvmasin … to; th'~ dovxh~ kai; to; tou' qeou' ejf j uJma'~ ajnapauvetai (4:13–14). For the author of 1 Peter, therefore, to suffer with a good conscience is to suffer triumphantly.82 It is an integral part of the blessedness promised in 3:14a.83
79 This same “spirit” is discernable in the Acta Alexandrinorum (most famously in the Acta Isidori; e.g., CPJ 2:156d.11–12: [Isidoros to Claudius:] “and you are the cast-off son of the Jewess Salome!”), for which now see Andrew Harker, Loyalty and Dissidence in Roman Egypt: The Case of the Acta Alexandrinorum (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). Controlling anger (along with the other passions) was a topic of broad interest in antiquity; cf. Sen., De ira. It is not, of course, that the author of 1 Peter did not believe that Christ-like suffering brought with it an experience of the Spirit; on the contrary: to; th'~ dovxh~ kai; to; tou' qeou' ejf j uJma'~ ajnapauvetai (4:14). However, for the author of 1 Peter the Spirit is not so much the spirit of prophecy, of inspired defiant witness, as the spirit of ecstasy, of blessedness or triumphant suffering. 80 Note that suneivdhsin ejconte~ ajgaqhvn here explicates meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbou. 81 Cf. Euseb., Hist. eccl. [= Mart. Lugd.] 5.1.43: oJ de; [Attalo~ kai; aujto;~ megavlw~ ejxaithqei;~ uJmo; tou' o[clou kai; gar; h\n ojnomastov~ e{toimo~ [to; ajmfiqevatron] eijsh'lqen ajgwnisth;~ dia; to; eujsuneivdhton. 82 Paul may have something like this in mind in Phil 1:28: kai; mh; pturovmenoi ejn mhdeni; uJpo; tw`n ajntikeimevnwn, h{ti~ ejsti;n aujtoi'~ e[ndeixi~ ajpwleiva~, uJmw`n de; swthriva~. The martyr’s struggle against a subjective sense of guilt and shame (in many ways the point of their humiliating executions) was a major theme in early martyrdom narratives. Cf. Potter, “Martyrdom as Spectacle,” 66: “[These humiliating executions were] plainly calculated to debase the victim as completely as possible” 83 By extension, it is also an integral part of his heavily Christianized strategy of coping with prejudice through “attributional ambiguity.” Attributing one’s suffering not to one’s own failings but to the prejudice and hostility of others, allows one to imagine oneself suffering after the manner of Christ, with all that that implies.
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“It is better to suffer as one who does good” (1 Pet 3:17–22) In 3:17–22 the author of 1 Peter pauses to reflect further on the benefits of suffering with a “good conscience” (suneivdhsi~ ajgaqhv). He begins with a maxim: krei'tton ga;r ajgaqopoiou'nta~, eij qevloi to; qevlhma tou' qeou', pavscein h] kakopoiou'nta~ (3:17).84 If it is ultimately the will of God that certain Christians suffer because of their faith, then it is “better” that they do so “as those who do what is good” (ajgaqopoiou'nta~) than “as those who do what it evil” (kakopoiou'nta~).85 This maxim reasserts the thesis of 3:14a that they are “blessed” (makavrioi) who suffer “on account of righteousness” (dia; dikaiosuvnhn).86 But it does so in light of the intervening material in 3:14b-16, where it is not just the objective fact of suffering on account of righteousness that is developed, but the subjective experience of a “good conscience” which validates the sufferer and shames his or her accusers. One should therefore resist the temptation to interpret ajgaqopoiou'nta~ and kakopoiou'nta~ as simple causal participles as if the former simply repeated the sense of dia; dikaiosuvnhn in 3:14.87 Rather, one should take seriously the ambiguity inherent in participles of this sort – an ambiguity that is resolved only with reference to immediate context, and even then often defying simply categorization88 – and allow that they also convey the subjective self-awareness or “conscience” of the sufferer. 1 Pet 3:17 might therefore be paraphrased: “If it is the will of God for you to suffer, it is better to do so with the good conscience of one who has done what is right than with the guilty conscience of one who has done what is wrong.”
84 1 Pet 3:17 is closely tied to the praeparatio of 3:14b-16 and should be interpreted as a clausular sententia (cf. Quint. 8.5.13–14; cf. my discussion of the doxology of 1 Pet 4:11 above in chapter 1). Since, however, it also introduces the material that follows, I treat it here with 3:18–22. 85 This is a “Stoic” sentiment; cf. Epict., Diss. 1.1.22: “I must die. But must I die groaning? I must be fettered. And crying too? I must be exiled; but does anyone keep me from going with a smile, cheerful and serene?” (trans. Dobbin; cf. idem, Epictetus, 75–6 for comment). It is not what happens to one that matters so much as how one endures what happens. Cf. Sen., De prov. 2.4: Non quid sed quemadmodum feras interest (“It is not what but how you endure that matters”); cf. 3.4–14 for examples. 86 The macarism of 3:14a is here turned into a “better”-proverb or Tob-Spruch (krei'tton). 87 So, for example, Elliott, 1 Peter, 634, and most commentators. 88 E.g., Smyth, Grammar § 2069: “the force of these circumstantial participles does not lie in the participle itself, but is derived from the context. Unless attended by some modifying adverb, the context often does not decide whether the participle has a temporal, a causal, a conditional, a concessive force, etc.; and some participles may be referred to more than one of the above classes” (emphasis added).
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The author follows the maxim of 3:17 with a lengthy rationale statement in 3:18–22.89 As in 1:18–21 and 2:21–25 he draws extensively on traditional confessional materials, including possible creedal statements and hymns.90 These can no longer be recovered with any reliability, but for our purposes this is not necessary. My exegesis of this complex paragraph will be selective, focusing on how it supports the maxim of 3:17 and through it the praeparatio of 3:14b-16. Commentators are divided on how the author of 1 Peter intended 3:18–22 to support 3:14b-17.91 One possibility is that, as in 2:21–25 where Christian slaves suffering under harsh masters are urged to follow in Christ’s “footsteps,” Christ is offered as an example to be imitated by any Christian being actively persecuted.92 This is suggested, among other things, by the way 3:18–22 is introduced, “because Christ also suffered” (o{ti kai; Cristov~ … e[paqen), which is exactly the way 2:21–25 is introduced. The problem with this interpretation is that Christ’s actions in 3:18–22 go beyond the clearly exemplary actions recounted in 2:21–25 and cannot, strictly speaking, be imitated. So, for instance, Christ suffered “once and for all” (a{pax), “the Righteous One on behalf of unrighteous ones” (divkaio~ uJpe;r ajdivkwn), “so that he might bring us to God” (i{na uJma'~ prosagavgh/ tw`/ qew`/). These observations have led to an alternative interpretation that 3:18–22 does not recount the sufferings of Christ in order to give suffering Christians an example to follow but to provide a kind of theological or Christological assurance that their sufferings will be vindicated.93 Most commentators adopt some version of this second interpretation. My own sense, however, is that this distinction would have been lost on the author of 1 Peter, who much like the author of the Similitudes of Enoch (1 En. 37–71), understood the Messiah to be a kind of divine or heavenly homologue94 whose personal narrative both effects and enacts the Christian’s final salvation. To be sure, Christ’s suffering “once and for all for sins” promises to “bring us to God.” But Christ himself also suffered innocently and triumphed – “put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit” – in a way obviously analogous to 89 90
Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 242. See my discussion of 1:18–21 above in chapter 7; cf. the discussion of 2:21–25 in chap-
ter 8. 91
That these verses are intended to support 3:14b–17 is obvious (o{ti) and is not debated. This, for example, is the view of Karl Gschwind, Die Niederfahrt Christi in die Unterwelt: Ein Beitrag zur Exegese des Neuen Testamentes und zur Geschichte des Taufsymbols (NTAbh 2.3–5; Münster, Aschendorff, 1911) and Bo Reicke, The Disobedient Spirits and Christian Baptism: A Study of 1 Pet. III.19 and Its Context (ASNU 13; Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1946). 93 E.g., Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 242: “[d]ie christologische Begründung der vorhergehenden Paränese.” 94 Collins, Apocalyptic Imagination, 186; cf. idem, “The Heavenly Representative”; VanderKam, “Righteous One, Messiah, Chosen One, and Son of Man in 1 Enoch 37–71.” I discuss this topos above in chapters 4 and 6. 92
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the vindication promised to persecuted Christians in 1 Peter. For the author of 1 Peter, therefore, Christ both causes and exemplifies the Christian’s salvation. Indeed, Christ causes the Christian’s salvation in part at least precisely because he exemplifies it. Like the much-discussed Son of Man in the Similitudes of Enoch, Christ is for the author of 1 Peter the Christian’s heavenly Doppelgänger whose career reproduces the Christian’s experience in the world and for that very reason both grounds and animates his or her hope of eschatological salvation.95 Let me comment on two items in 3:18–22 which standout due to their context in the letter: (1) the description of Christ’s suffering and vindication in 3:18–19, and (2) the continuing emphasis on the Christian’s “good conscience” at 3:21b. 1 Pet 3:18–22 is structured by the narrative of Christ’s suffering, death, resurrection, vindication, and exaltation. In this progression the emphasis falls on Christ’s vindication (3:19), which vindication anticipates the Christian’s similar hope of salvation. According to 1 Pet 3:18–22, after his resurrection (3:18b) and before his exaltation to the right hand of God (3:22), Christ visited certain “imprisoned spirits” to proclaim to them (ejkhvruxen) his triumph (3:19). These verses have been the subject of endless speculation since at least the early third century c.e.. They are best known for the support they have given to the doctrines of the descensus ad infernos and the so-called “harrowing of hell.” 96 Much of this confusion has been due, at least in part, to the fact that the Enochic corpus to which they make reference was lost to most Western interpreters until the late 19th century.97 It is now almost universally recognized, however, that the “imprisoned spirits” of 3:19 refers to the 200 angelic Watchers of 1 En. 6–11, who introduced sin into the world prior to the time of Noah and who were afterward imprisoned to await their final judgment. According to 1 Enoch these fallen Watchers were locked away in an underground desert prison to await their final judgment.98 According to version preserved in 2 Enoch, however, these Watchers were imprisoned not in the earth but in the second heaven,99 where Enoch sees them on his ascent to God.100 Christ’s proclamation to these “spirits” in 1 Pet 3:19, coming as it does after the resurrection (3:18b) and before 95
This fundamental aspect of 1 Peter’s Christology calls for further study. See the review of scholarship in Dalton, Christ’s Proclamation to the Spirits, 25–66. 97 E. Isaac, “1 (Ethiopic Apocalypse of) Enoch: A New Translation and Introduction,” in OTP 1:5–89, here p. 8; F. I. Andersen, “2 (Slavonic Apocalypse of) Enoch: A New Translation and Introduction,” in OTP 1:91–213, here 97–8; more generally: James H. Charlesworth, The Pseudepigrapha and Modern Research: with a Supplement (SBLSCS 7; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981); Robert A. Kraft and George W. E. Nickelsburg, eds., Early Judaism and Its Modern Interpreters (The Bible and Its Modern Interpreters 2; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986) 98 1 En. 10.4–5, 12–13. 99 2 En. 7.1–5 (J); cf. Dalton, Christ’s Proclamation to the Spirits, 180–2. These angels were originally from the 5th heaven (2 En. 7.3 [J]). 100 2 En. 1–34. 96
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his exaltation to the right hand of God (3:22), which is to say during his ascent to the highest heaven, fits better with the scheme of 2 Enoch than 1 Enoch.101 It is reasonable to assume that the author of 1 Peter has adduced Christ’s postresurrection triumph over these protological enemies of God as evidence that a similar vindication is due his readers. This brings me to the second item in 3:18–22 on which I wish comment: namely, the continuing emphasis on the Christian’s “good conscience” at 3:21b: ouj sarko;~ ajpovqesi~ rJuvpou ajlla; suneidh'sew~ ajgaqh'~ ejperwvthma eij~ qeovn. Unlike the reference to the imprisoned spirits in 3:19, which has now been greatly clarified thanks to the translation and publication of 1 and 2 Enoch, the mention of baptism and the Christian’s “good conscience” in 3:21 has not been convincingly interpreted. This is due in large part to a number of ambiguities in the passage for which it is hard not to blame the author of 1 Peter himself. These include: (1) the precise point of the analogy between the Noahic Flood and baptism, (2) the antecendent of the relative pronoun o{ beginning verse 21, and (3) the meaning of the expression suneidhvsew~ ajgaqh'~ ejperwvthma eij~ qeovn. Indeed, it is tempting to conclude that the author was not altogether clear on the matter himself.102 Fortunately, the expression we are most interested in, “good conscience” (suneivdhsi~ ajgaqhv; 3:21b), has already been used in 3:16, where its meaning and intent are clear.103 For our purposes, therefore, it is enough to observe that the inclusion of “good conscience” in 3:21b – where it is obviously the point of the material inserted in 3:20–1104 – is to add support to the earlier injunction to keep a good conscience.105 However one eventually interprets the details of 3:20–1, the larger meaning is almost certainly that “baptism” makes possible a “good conscience” which can sustain the Christian in his or her present suffering106 and will, if carefully guarded, lead to final salvation.107 101
Note their “disobedience,” a term used of unbelievers in 1 Peter. Modern critical interpreters should do more to rid themselves of the lingering (pious) assumption that Biblical authors, any more than other authors, were always in control of their material. Gal 3:15–18 is, I take it, an obvious example of an early Christian author who has surely not thought through every analogy that he drew (simply note the troubles it caused him in 3:19ff!). I see no reason why this might not be the case, to a lesser degree perhaps, with the author of 1 Peter here. It is, of course, always possible that our author was clear and that two-thousand years of interpreters have failed to see the obvious, but the odds are against it. 103 See my discussion earlier in this chapter. 104 It is generally thought by commentators, following in various degrees the early work of Rudolf Bultmann (“Bekenntnis- und Leidfragmente im ersten Petrusbrief,” 285–97) that the traditional material in 3:18–22 lies in 3:18(-19) and 22, and that 3:20–1 is an insertion by the author. 105 This injunction is already developed in 3:17. 106 Among other things a good conscience insulates the persecuted Christian from “shame” (4:16; see the discussion of this text below in chapter 10.) 107 Noah is treated in the tradition as prefiguring those preserved through the coming eschatological judgment, a theme importance in 1 Peter; cf. 1 En. 10:1–3 and 93:4, where the language “saved” is also used (Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch, 443, speaks of a parallelism between the 102
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“… and that is why they slander you” (1 Pet 4:1–6) This brings us to 1 Pet 4:1–6, which is another difficult text.108 Luckily, the basic challenge facing interpreters of these verses does not lie in the principal thrust of the text, which I hope to show is not that difficult to discern, but in two puzzling aside comments in 4:1b (oJ paqw;n sarki; pevpautai aJmartiva~) and 4:6 (eij~ tou'to ga;r kai; nekroi'~ eujhggelivsqh ktl.), which have distracted scholars from the central interpretive task. The trick to reading 4:1–6, therefore, is not to allow these two ancillary comments to dominate the discussion and to obscure the overall point of the paragraph.109 It is important to determine as precisely as possible the relationship between 4:1–6 and the material that precedes it in 3:13–22. Most commentators link 4:1–6 to the lengthy rationale statement in 3:18–22, based among other things on the linguistic connection between 4:1 (Cristou' … paqovnto~) and 3:18 (Cristov~ … e[paqen).110 Goppelt is characteristic. He proposes that like 3:18–22, which offers a “Christological” basis for the parenesis of 3:13–17, 1 Pet 4:1–6 should be read as offering a “soteriological” basis for that paresecond week, the week of Noah, and the seventh week in Apocalypse of Weeks). This may be the sense of “saves” here. Baptism marks the Christian out as one to be preserved through judgment; cf. 1 En. 100.5: “He will set a guard of holy angels over all the righteous and holy ones, and they shall keep them as the apple of the eye until all evil and sin are brought to an end.” In its fullest sense, however, preservation is more than mere physical survival: it is the final eschatological salvation that is the reward of a purified faith (1:9; cf. 1:6–7). So how then does baptism “save” the Christian in this context? For this we must decide what suneidhvsew~ ajgaqh'~ ejperwvthma eij~ qeovn in 1 Pet 3:21b means. Is it the formal request or “appeal” to God for a good conscience (e.g., the request to be made clean)? Or is it the appeal to God made by the good conscience of the baptizand. Or is it that baptism gives the convert a good conscience that then appeals to God for salvation, which conscience one does not want to forfeit in the fires of persecution. I would favor the last interpretation which means that baptism saves Christians not by washing their bodies but by giving them a good conscience which if maintained in suffering leads to their salvation. This fits well with the use of “conscience” earlier in 1 Pet 3:16. This type of salvation/preservation is a common theme in both Jewish and early Christian apocalypticism. 108 Again, see Dalton, Christ’s Proclamation to the Spirits, 219–41. 109 The first of these aside comments is actually only a problem for modern Christian interpreters seeking to make contemporary application of the text. For the historian the text is straightforward: the author of 1 Peter believed that those who suffer after the manner of Christ “have ceased from sin.” Of course, few Biblical interpreters are this disinterested, for better or worse. 110 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 141, but esp. 128: “Der gesamte Argumentationszusammenhang is ein typisches Beispeil für den Stil des 1Petr, der ohne klare Einschnitte einen Gedanken an den anderen reiht”; cf. Achtemeier, 1 Peter, 276. My own view is that this connection is weakened by the fact that there is also an obvious connection with 3:14 (pavscoite), which connection must also be taken into account since the suffering in 4:1, as in 3:14, is ultimately concerned with the suffering of the readers, not just the suffering of Christ.
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nesis.111 But this cannot be the case for at least two reasons. First, while the reference to suffering in 4:1 does indeed recall the suffering of Christ mentioned in 3:18, it also recalls the suffering of the readers mentioned in 3:14 (pavscoite), which is determinative since 3:14 is programmatic for all of 3:13–4:6, and since the suffering in view in 4:1 is ultimately not Christ’s but the readers’. Second, and even more important, 4:1–6 cannot offer a second basis for the parenesis of 3:14–17, since it too is parenetic: kai; uJmei'~ th;n aujth;n e[nnoian oJplivsasqe (4:1a). Indeed, to extend Berger’s list, 4:1 appears to be just as much a piece of martyriumsparänese as 3:14b-16. I would therefore read 4:1 as returning to the parenesis of 3:14b-16 by picking up where 3:16 left off. Resolved to keep a “good conscience” throughout their ordeal so as to morally out maneuver their opponents, which is to say, to shame them instead of being shamed by them (3:16) – and in doing so to experience proleptically the vindication that Christ has already achieved (the point made in 3:18–22) – persecuted Christians are now ready to take the final step and “arm” (oJplivsasqe) themselves with a mind that enthusiastically embraces Christ-like suffering (4:1). In doing so they will make a complete and final break with the world. They will “cease from sin” (pevpautai aJmartiva~; 4:1b). They will also spend the remainder of their life following “God’s will” (qelhvmati qeou') and not “human desires” (ajnqrwvpwn ejpiqumivai~; 4:2; cf. 2:11). This is the general thesis of Angelika Reichert, who sees all of 3:13–4:6 as a praeparatio ad martyrium, and it has much to commend it.112 There is an additional parallel between 4:1–6 and 3:14b-17 that further suggests this interpretation. In 3:17 the author of 1 Peter followed up the paranesis of 3:14b-16 with a motive clause in the form of a wisdom maxim: krei'tton ga;r ktl. A similar pattern is discernible in 4:1–6, for in 4:3 the author follows the paranesis of 4:1–2 with a similar motive clause introduced in the same way: ajrketo;~ ga;r ktl. The readers should embrace Christ-like suffering and make a final break with this world (4:1–2), because (ga;r) they have already wasted a portion of their lives113 in the debauchery which to the author of 1 Peter’s mind characterized the gentile world.114 Indeed, they have already made a significant break with their past, which is the real reason they
111
Der erste Petrusbrief, 232: “Diese Losung [= 3:13–17] wird in 3,18–22 christologisch und in 4,1–6 soteriologisch begründet.” 112 Eine urchristlichen Praeparatio ad Martyrium. 113 The author here clearly imagines his readers as having converted to Christianity as adults. 114 This is a standard Jewish slander: gentiles who lack Torah and who practice idolatry are morally debauched (cf. Stowers, Rereading of Romans, 56–65). That the author of 1 Peter expresses this view is solid evidence of his contact with the Diaspora synagogue.
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are being persecuted.115 They may rest assured, however, that just as they themselves are now being “called to account” before human courts, so also their accusers will be “called to account” before Christ when he returns, and that not even death can spare these accusers from this looming judgment: oi} ajpodwvsousin lovgon tw`/ eJtoivmw~ e[conti kri'nai zw`nta~ kai; nekrou;~. 116 Finally, it should be noted that in addition to continuing the parenesis of 3:14b-16, 1 Pet 4:1–6 also continues its coping strategy of maintaining a “good conscience” in the face of open prejudice and persecution. This is already hinted in 4:3 where the reader’s former friends turned persecutors are characterized as “living in licentiousness, passions, drunkenness, revels, carousings, and lawless idolatry.” It is made explicit in 4:4 where the blame is squarely placed on these persecutors: “they are surprised that you no longer join them in the same excesses of dissipation, and that is why they slander you (blasfhmou'nte~).” When all else fails, the readers of 1 Peter may face persecution with a good conscience, confident that it is their neighbors and not they who are to blame.
“The end of all things is near” (1 Pet 4:7–11) It was a common practice among early Christians to place near the end of their letters, and presumably their sermons too,117 a series of exhortations urging morally excellent conduct. In 4:7–11 the author of 1 Peter produces such a paragraph. It serves to conclude both the central advisory portion of his letter 1:13–4:6 as well as the final piece of advice in 3:13–4:6. It adds little to our exegesis, though it does continue the eschatological emphasis of the letter: pavntwn de; to; tevlo~ h[ggiken. It neatly repeats certain terms and themes from earlier in the letter.118 It concludes with a extended eschatological doxology: i{na ejn pa'sin 115 The author continues with the subtext that Christians are not to blame for their suffering. Rather – and this is the point of 4:4 – it is their prejudiced neighbors who are at fault. Taken together the “good conscience” of 3:16 and the blaming of one’s non- Christian neighbors in 4:4 paint a full picture of the strategy of coping with prejudice through “attributional ambiquity.” The readers are not to blame for their suffering (they have a good conscience; 3:16); their neighbors are (4:4). ejn w\/ is causal, the sense being, “For which reason they are surprised that you no longer join them in the same excesses of dissipation and thus malign you.” This is, of course, a self-justifying description of things that these former friends would not accept. From their point of view, no doubt, they have simply and wrongly been deserted by long-time friends who are now passing moral judgment on them. 116 A point already intimated in 3:18–19. 117 This practice probably lies behind Pliny’s description of Christian meetings at Ep. 10.96.7: seque sacramento non in scelus aliquod obstringere, sed ne furta ne latrocinia ne adulteria committerent, ne fidem fallerent, ne depositum adpellati abnegarent. 118 Verse 7 recalls 1:13 both verbally (nhvyate; cf. nhvfonte~, 1:13) and thematically (pavntwn de; to; tevlo~ h[ggiken; cf. ejlpivsate ejpi; th;n feromevnhn uJmi'n cavrin ejn ajpokaluvyei jIhsou' Cristou', 1:13), and forms a natural inclusion. The exhortation to love one another fervently
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doxavzhtai oJ qeo;~ dia; jIhsou' Cristou', w|/ ejstin hJ dovxa kai; to; kravto~ eij~ tou;~ aijw`na~ tw`n aijwvnwn, ajmhvn.
in 4:8 (pro; pavntwn th;n eij~ eJautou;~ ajgavphn ejktenh' e[conte~) similarly recalls 1:22 (ejk kaqara'~ kardiva~ ajllhvlou~ ajgaphvsate ejktenw`~; cf. 3:8). This exhortation is further developed in 4:9–11a to include hospitality to other Christians (filovxenoi eij~ ajllhvlou~) and the exercise of various charisms (e{kasto~ kaqw;~ e[laben cavrisma eij~ eJautou;~ aujto; diakonou'nte~).
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Chapter Ten
“Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal” (1 Pet 4:12–5:14): Concluding Words of Consolation Quid ergo opus est, dicet aliquis, ratione aut omnino consolatione illa, qua solemus uti, cum levare dolorem maerentium volumus? Hoc enim fere tum habemus in promptu, nihil opertere inopinatum videri.*
The author of 1 Peter concludes his letter, as he began it in 1:1–12, with words of consolation.1 However, unlike the consolation of 1:1–12, which is mostly descriptive, 2 the consolation of 4:12–5:14 is hortatory, a mixture of theological and philosophical argumenta and various practical exhortations.3 The hortatory nature of 1 Pet 4:12–5:14 makes it difficult to outline, but it may be divided as follows: (1) a series of consolatory arguments on the theme that Christians should expect to the suffer (4:12–19), (2) an exhortation to local elders (presbuvteroi) to accept suffering and lead by example, (5:1–5), (3) a series of more general consoling sentences (5:6–11), and (4) concluding epistolary matter that also functions as a brief peroratio or restatement of the letter’s principal theme (5:12–14). I will discuss these in order. As with my earlier exegesis of 1:1–12, my exegesis of 4:12–5:14 will be selective, focusing on the consolatory arguments the author adduces in this final portion of his letter. I will preface my exegesis of 4:12–5:14 by describing in more detail the Cyrenaic consolatory topos “nothing unexpected has happened” * Cicero, Tusculanae Disputationes. 1 For the sake of verisimilitude the author also adds traditional epistolary materials in 5:12–14, just as he did in 1:1–2. The concentration of parenetic elements near the end of the letter is also epistolary. See further, Martin, Metaphor and Composition in 1 Peter, 41–79. 2 Apart from the optative plhqunqeivh in v. 2, all the verbs in 1:1–12 are in the indicative. It is debated whether the expression in 1:3, eujlovghto~ oJ qeov~, carries an implied optative (“Blessed be God”) and an indicative (“Blessed is God”); cf. Victor Paul Furnish, II Corinthians (AB 32A; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1984) 108, who cites Gerhard Delling, “Partizipiale Gottesprädikationen in den Briefen des Neuen Testaments,” ST 17 (1963) 1–59, here 51 n. 2. 3 Several of the exhortations in 1 Pet 4:12–5:14 are themselves consolatory, e.g., 4:12. 16, 19 etc.
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(nihil inopinati accidisse). We have already noted Cicero’s summary of this topos (Tusc 3.31.76) in chapter 4 above, but the topos is integral to the consolation of 4:12–5:14, and so at this point it merits a fuller discussion. The topos is given thematic status in 4:12: jAgaphtoi;, mh; xenivzesqe th'Ê ejn uJmi'n purwvsei pro;~ peirasmo;n uJmi'n ginomevnh/ wJ~ xevnou uJmi'n sumbaivnonto~.4
Cyrenaic Consolation Like Epicurus, the Cyrenaics were philosophical hedonists. They equated good and evil respectively with pleasure and pain, and understood grief to be a special instance of the latter. However, Cyrenaic hedonism differed from Epicurean hedonism in at least two significant ways. First, whereas Epicurean theory focused on “katastematic pleasure,” that is, pleasure as a state of being,5 the Cyrenaics understood both pleasure and pain to be types of motion, pleasure being a “smooth” motion (lei'a kivnhsi~) and pain being a “rough” one (tracei'a kivnhsi~).6 And second, whereas Epicurus held that pleasure and pain were contradictories, so that the absence of pain necessarily implied the presence of pleasure,7 the Cyrenaics taught that pleasure and pain were mere contraries, there being a “middle state” (mevsh katavstasi~) between the two that is neither pleasant nor painful (ajhdoniva kai; ajponiva).8 From this general theory of pleasure and pain the Cyrenaics derived their special theories of grief and consolation. Cicero describes the Cyrenaic theory of grief at Tusc. 3.13.28: “The Cyrenaics believe that grief is not caused by every misfortune, but by misfortune that is unexpected and unanticipated.”9 In other words, not all misfortunes produce the “rough” motion of grief, but only those that come about unexpectedly. Like the surprise attack of an enemy or a sudden storm at sea – two popular Cyrenaic analogies10 – misfortune overwhelms us
4
See here my article, “Nihil inopinati accidisse.” Diog. Laert. 10.136 (Epicur. frag. 1 Us); 2.87 (= Epicur. frag 450 Us); cf. J. C. B. Gosling and C. C. W. Taylor, The Greeks on Pleasure (Oxford: Clarendon, 1982) 365–386. 6 Diog. Laert. 2.86–7: duvo pavqh uJfivstanto, povnon kai; hJdonhvn, th;n me;n leivan kivnhsin, th;n hJdonvhn, to;n de; povnon tracei'an kivnhsin. Cf. Athen., Deip. 12.546E: jArivstippo~ kai; oiJ ajp j aujtou' th;n kata; kivnhsin hJdonh;n hjspavzonto; Cic., De fin. 2.6.18: [voluptas est] qua sensus dulciter ac iucunde movetur; Sext. Emp., Pyrrh. 1.215; Suid., 2.553.4. 7 Thus Cic., De fin. 1.11.38: itaque non placuit Epicuro medium esse quiddam inter dolorem et voluptatem; cf. Erich Mannebach, Aristippi et Cyrenaicorum Fragmenta (Leiden and Köln: Brill, 1961) 109 8 Diog. Laert. 2.90: mevsa~ te katastavsei~ wjnovmazon ajhdonivan kai; ajponivan; cf. ibid. 2.89: ejn kinhvsei ga;r ei\nai ajmfovtera [= hJdonh;n kai; povnon], mh; ou[sh~ th'~ ajponiva~ h] th'~ ajhdoniva~ kinhvsew~, ejpei; hJ ajponiva oiJonei; kaqeuvdontov~ ejsti katavstasi~. 9 Cyrenaici non omni malo aegritudinem effici censent, sed insperato et necopinato malo. 10 Cf. Tusc. 3.52; cf. Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 112D; Sen., Ad Helv. 5.3; Ep, 47.4; De prov. 4.6, 13; 5
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when it catches us off guard. But when misfortune is foreseen, or when we have adequately prepared ourselves for it, this is not the case. To be sure, such experiences are not pleasant, that is, they do not produce the smooth motion that is pleasure. But neither are they grievous in the proper sense of the term. Rather, they fall in the middle neutral state between pleasure and pain. The Cyrenaics offered two practical remedies to grief, the first to be applied prophylactically before the advent of grievous circumstances, and the second after the fact. For those not currently experiencing misfortune they recommended the contemplation of future evil (praemeditatio futuri mali) as a preparation for its eventuality,11 and they quoted with approval the following lines from Euripides:12 Having learned these things from a certain sage, I have set my mind on cares and woes, and imagined exile from my land, and untimely deaths and other ills, that if I should suffer anything foreseen, it should not, unexpected, hurt the more.
For those already afflicted with grief they sought to stop the pain, that is, to calm the violent motion produced by unexpected calamity, with the reminder that “nothing unexpected has happened.” We have already seen Cicero’s summary of this latter technique at Tusc. 3.31.76: “the Cyrenaics think that it is sufficient to show that nothing unexpected has happened (nihil inopinati accidisse).” He describes the method again at Tusc. 3.23.55, this time in the words of a Cyrenaic interlocutor: What need is there of arguments or of all the consolation that we so routinely offer when we want to lighten the grief of mourners? For in all but the most extreme circumstances we have ready to hand the words ‘Nothing should seem unexpected (nihil oportere inopinatum videri).’
Epictetus imagines a well-practiced student who can apply the technique to himself:13 De clem. 1.7.3; John Chrys., Ep. ad Olymp. 15.1 Malingrey. Cf. Malunowiczowna, “Les éléments stoïciens,” 39. 11 As a practical technique the praemediatio futuri mali extended well beyond Cyrenaic consolation theory. Diogenes of Sinope taught it (Diog. Laert. 6.63), as did Chrysippus (Cic., Tusc. 3.22.52), Panaetius (Plut., De coh. ir. 463D), Posidonius (Gal., De plac. 372.14), Carneades (Plut., De tran. an. 474E), Epictetus (Diss. 3.10.1ff.; Ench. 21), Seneca (Ad Helv. 5.3; De tran. an. 11.6); Plutarch (De tran. an. 465B); cf. Virg., Aen. 6.103–5. Rabbow, Seelenführung, 160–79; Kassel, Untersuchungen, 66; H. T. Johann, Trauer und Trost, 63–84. 12 Cic., Tusc. 3.14.29: itaque apud Euripidem a Theseo dicta [a Cyrenaicis] laudantur. Cicero offers a Latin translation; the Greek is cited by Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 112 (= Nauck, Trag. Graec. Frag., Euripides, 964D). 13 Diss. 3.24.104.
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Let [the thought that calamities happen] be ready to hand night and day … . Then if one of those things people call undesirable should happen, the first thing to come to mind will be the thought that this was not unexpected (oujk ajprosdovkhton), and it will immediately lighten your burden.
Cyrenaic consolation theory was obviously better suited to preventing grief than alleviating it.14 Nevertheless, the argument that misfortune is to be expected is found in a range of consolatory texts, including Pseudo-Plato, PseudoOvid, Plutarch, Pseudo-Plutarch, and Marcus Aurelius.15 Seneca makes extensive use of the topos, employing it in each of his major consolations and in his consolatory letters.16 For example, at Ad Poly. 11.1 he consoles Polybius regarding the loss of his brother with the reminder that death must never be “a strange thing” (novum). Similarly, at Ad Helv. 5.3 he reminds his mother that “[Fortune’s attack] is hard to bear when it is sudden, but the person who always expects misfortune easily sustains it.” In Ep. 107 he selects the topos as his principal means of consolation and develops it at length by means of two traditional supporting arguments: (1) that others have suffered similar misfortunes: quidquid dixeris, multis accidit,17 and (2) that human suffering is ordained by divine law: ad hanc legem animus noster aptandus est.18 These supporting arguments, which focus respectively on a community of sufferers and on suffering as divinely ordained, figure prominently in the author of 1 Peter’s appropriation of the topos. The topos “nothing unexpected has happened” appears in several early Jewish and Christian texts. At De spec. leg. 2.87, Philo is attempting to explain Moses’ reason for instituting the Sabbath year as prescribed in Exod 23:11 and Lev 25:2–6. He suggests that Moses’ first consideration was to give the number seven the position of honor in the measurement of years, as he had already done
14 Kassel, Untersuchungen, 66–7; cf. Epict., Diss. 3.24.115: tau'ta e[cwn ajei; ejn cersi; kai; trivbwn aujto;~ para; sautw`/ kai; provceira poiw`n oujdevpote dehvsh/ tou' paramuqoumevnou, tou' ejpirrwnnuvnto~. Cicero does not find in Cyrenaic consolation theory a complete remedy for grief, but he agrees that “all sudden occurrences seem more serious” (Tusc. 3.13.28; cf. 3.22.52–3). 15 Ps.-Pl., Ax. 370A (cf. 364B); Ps.-Ov., Cons. ad Liv., 397–400; Plut., De vir. mor. 449E; De tran. an. 476A, D; Ps.-Plut., Ad Apoll. 112D; Marc. Aur., Med. 8.45. 16 In addition to the texts cited in the remainder of this paragraph, see Ad Marc. 9.2; Ep. 63.14; De vit. beat. 8.6 (nihilque inopinatum accidet); De brev. vit. 9.4. 17 Ep. 107.5; cf. Ad Marc. 2.1–5.6; Ad Poly. 14.1–17.6. See also, Grollios, Tevcnh ajlupiva~, 67–71; Thomas Kurth, Senecas Trostschrift an Polybius. Dialogue 11: Ein Kommentar (Beiträge zur Altertumskunde 59; Stuttgart: Teubner, 1994) 26–34; 167–216; Abel, Bauformen in Senecas Dialogen, 88–91; Johann, Trauer und Trost, index, s.v. exemplum. 18 Ep. 107.9. All are subject to this law. He concludes the letter with his well-known translation of the final lines of Cleanthes’ famous Hymn to Zeus: Duc, o parens celsique dominator poli, | Quocumque placuit; nulla parendi mora est. | Adsum inpiger. Fac nolle, comitabor gemens | Malusque patiar, facere quod licuit bono. | Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt.
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in the measurement of days. But Moses also had a second, more practical concern, which Philo explains as follows: Do not be altogether driven by gain, [Moses] says, but submit voluntarily to loss, so that you will easily bear involuntary injury, if ever it should occur, instead of being upset by it as though it were something unique and strange and falling into despair (ajlla; mh; wJ~ ejpi; kainw`/ kai; xevnw/ dusceraivnwn ajqumhvsh/~).
Philo here employs the Cyrenaic theory of grief to interpret Mosaic legislation. It is not misfortune as such that produces grief, but misfortune for which one is not prepared, misfortune that one finds “unique and strange” (kainw`/ kai; xevnw/).19 To avoid this, he says, Moses instituted the Sabbath year in which the pious Israelite voluntarily suffers the loss of income so as to familiarize himself with hardship and thus reduce its shock if ever it should occur. 20 Philo’s expression, wJ~ ejpi; kainw`/ kai; xevnw/, is similar to 1 Pet 4:12b: wJ~ xevnou uJmi'n sumbaivnonto~. Early Christians made frequent use of the topos, which accorded well with their claims: (1) that Christians should expect to suffer in the last days, and (2) that as followers of Christ they should expect to imitate his suffering. Paul uses the topos twice in his extant correspondence. He first uses it in 1 Thess 3:1–10, where he is concerned that the Thessalonians not be “shaken” by their continued persecution: to; mhdevna saivnesqai ejn tai'~ qlivyesin tauvtai~ (3:3a). 21 He reminds them that such persecution should be expected: aujtoi; ga;r oi[date o{ti eij~ tou'to keivmeqa (3:3b), and that he had explicitly told them this during his initial visit: kai; ga;r o{te pro;~ uJma'~ h\men, proelevgomen uJmi'n o{ti mevllomen qlivbesqai (3:4a). 22 He insists, therefore, that nothing unexpected has happened: kaqw;~ kai; ejgevneto kai; oi[date (3:4b). Like Seneca in Ep. 107, Paul supports his consolation by appeals to the will of God (eij~ tou'to kei;meqa; 3:3b) – which for Paul of course means the apocalyptic “plan” of God – and to the suffering of others. 23 Chrysostom’s comments on this text are instructive. Not only does he recognize Paul’s use of the topos, but in paraphrasing Paul he (like Philo) comes
19
Cf. Sen., Ad Poly. 11.1: novum. The Cyrenaic theory of grief is here employed for prophylactic purposes (to prevent grief from being experienced in the future), rather than as consolation per se (to remove grief that has already been experienced). 21 See Abraham Malherbe, Paul and the Thessalonians: The Philosophical Tradition of Pastoral Care (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987) 57–58; idem, “‘Pastoral Care’ in the Thessalonian Church,” NTS 36 (1990) 387–88; idem, The Letters to the Thessalonians, 198. 22 For the praemeditatio futuri mali in Paul, see Abraham Malherbe, “Exhortation in I Thessalonians,” NovT 25 (1983) 254–56 (reprinted in idem, Paul and the Popular Philosophers [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989] 49–66); but see the criticism by Chapa, “Consolatory Patterns?” 220–228. 23 Note the first-person plurals in 3:3–4: eij~ tou'to kei;meqa … mevllomen qlivbesqai; cf. 3:7: ejpi; pavsh/ th ajnavgkh/ kai; qlivyei hJmw`n; 1:6; 2:14–15. 20
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remarkably close to the language of 1 Pet 4:12: ouj dei' qorubei'sqai, fhsiv: kai; ga;r oujde;n xevnon, oujde;n par j ejlpivda sumbaivnei. 24 Paul employs the topos a second time in Phil 1:28–30. 25 Paul had experienced hostility in his initial visit to Philippi, which hostility continued to plague the church after his departure. In 1:28 he urges the Philippians not to be “frightened” (mh; pturovmenoi) by their opponents. The term Paul chooses, ptuvromai, is a NT hapax that denotes an element of surprise as well as fear. The term was used to describe an animal frightened by a loud noise, 26 in particular a horse startled by the first clash of battle. 27 But the term also occurs in consolatory contexts, where it describes the shock of unexpected misfortune. At PseudoPlato, Ax. 370A Axiochus is presented to Socrates as one panicked by the sudden onset of a terminal illness: oujk a[n pote ptureivh~ to;n qavnaton. 28 Similarly, Marcus Aurelius at Med. 8.45 prays for a soul not panicked (pturomevnh) by adversity. 29 As in 1 Thess. 3:1–10, Paul again supports his consolation by appeals to the will (or plan) of God: uJmi'n ejcarivsqh … pavscein (Phil 1:29),30 and the suffering of others: to;n aujto;n ajgw`na e[conte~, oi|on ei[dete ejn ejmoi; kai; nu'n ajkouvete ejn ejmoiv (1:30).31 The topos appears a third time in early Christian sources in John 16:1–4a.32 This is part of Jesus’ final consolatory sermon to this disciples, the so-called Farewell Discourse(s) of 13:31–16:33, in which Jesus offers his disciples various 24 In Ep. I ad Thess. hom. 3 (PG 62.410.31–32; cf. lines 54–56). Note that oujde;n xevnon … sumbaivnei reproduces almost exactly the language of 1 Pet. 4:12: xevnou … sumbaivnonto~. It is possible that Chrysostom has 1 Pet. 4:12 in mind when he writes this. But if this is so, it is odd that he makes no reference to 1 Peter, citing instead John 14:29. I would suggest, rather, that Chrysostom is employing language characteristic of the topos, which language the author of 1 Peter (along with Philo, as noted in the previous paragraph) also uses. In this regard, note that the appositive oujde;n par j ejlpivda is the Greek equivalent of Cicero’s malum insperatum (Tusc. 3.13.28). 25 For Philippians as a letter of consolation, see Holloway, Consolation in Philippians. 26 Philo Bybl apud Eus., Praep. Ev. 1.10.4 (= Jacoby, FGrHist 790 frag. 2, p. 807.5): pro;~ to;n h\con (= to;n pavtagon tw`n brontw`n) ejptuvrh; Plut., Praec. ger. rei publ. 800C: mhvte o[yei mhvte fwnh pturovmeno~ w{sper qhrivon u{popton. Cf. Hom. Clem. 2.39: ptuvrante~ ajmaqei'~ a[clou~ (PG 2.104B); PNess 1.778 (vi A.D.) where it glosses terreo (cf. Vulg. of Phil. 1:28). 27 Diod. Sic. 2.19; Plut., Fab. 3; Marc. 6; Phil. 12. At Hippocr., Mul. 1.25 it is a severe form of fright that may induce a miscarriage (h] didivssntai kai; ptuvrhtai). The term was popular with Epiphanius (see PGL s.v.); cf. Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.24.7: ouj ptuvromai ejpi; toi'~ kataplhssomevnoi~; Acta Pauli (P.Ham.) 4.33: Pau'lo~ [upon being thrust into the arena] oujk ejptuvrh. 28 Cf. Ax. 364B. 29 Cf. Sen., Ep. 107.4, which speaks of people unprepared for adversity who are thrown into a “panic” by even the slightest misfortune: inparatus etiam levissima expavit. 30 ejcarivsqh constitutes a “divine passive”. For suffering as a “gift” (ejcarivsqh), see also Phil. 1:7 (cavri~); cf. 2:17–18; 3:10. 31 Cf. 2 Tim. 3:10–12. 32 Another possible occurrence of the topos is Rev. 13:9–11, where hJ uJpomonh; kai; hJ pivsti~ tw`n aJgivwn is said to consist in the knowledge: ei[ ti~ eij~ aijcmalwsivan, eij~ aijcmalwsivan uJpavgei: ei[ ti~ ejn macaivrh/ ajpoktanqh'nai, ajuto;n ejn macaivrh/ ajpoktanqh'nai.
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solacia regarding his pending “departure” and the persecutions that will follow: mh; tarassevsqw uJmw`n hJ kardiva (14:1).33 Among other things, he assures them: (1) that he is going to prepare a place for them, (2) that they will see him again, (3) that he will send to them another paravklhto~ in his stead, and (4) that he is going to the Father.34 In 15:18ff. Jesus turns specifically to the problem of persecution (eij ejme; ejdivwxan, kai; uJma'~ diwvxousin; 15:20), to which he offers the following consolation in 16:1–4a: tau'ta lelavlhka uJmi'n i{na mh; skandalisqh'te. ajposunagwvgou~ poihvsousin uJma'~: ajll j e[rcetai w{ra i{na pa'~ oJ ajpokteivna~ uJma'~ dovxh/ latreivan prosfevrein tw`/ qew`/ .... ajlla; tau'ta lelavlhka uJmi'n i{na o{tan e[lqh/ hJ w{ra aujtw`n mnhmoneuvhte aujtw`n o{ti ejgw; ei\pon uJmi'n.
To the persecuted readers of John’s gospel, who presumably had experienced just these things, this necessarily meant that nothing unexpected had happened: tau'ta lelavlhka uJmi'n i{na o{tan e[lqh/ hJ w{ra aujtw`n mnhmoneuvhte.
“Time has come for judgment to begin” (1 Pet 4:12–19) Perdelwitz’s observation that 1 Pet. 4:12 introduces a concluding consolatory note remains essentially correct.35 The central portion of the letter (1:13–4:11), which offers three distinct pieces of advice on how to cope with prejudice, comes to an end with the doxology in 4:11b. After this a new beginning is made in 4:12,36 at which point the author returns to his earlier attempt to console his beleaguered readers.37 33 One of the principal consolatory strategies of John 13:31–16:33 is to shift the genre from testament to farewell discourse or “speech of departure” (lovgo~ suntaktikov~): Jesus is not as it were about to die but to depart. For the speech of departure, see Men. Rh., 2.15.430.9–434.9, discussed as an informal talk (suntaktikh; laliav) at 2.4.393.31–394.31. Poetic syntaktika include: Hom., Od. 13.38–41; Theog. 11–14; Soph., Phil. 1452–71; Eur., Hec. 445–83, Phoen. 625–35; Cat. 46; Tib. 1.10; Propert.3.21; Virg., Aen. 4.333–61; Juv., Sat. 3; Rutilius Namatianus, 1–164. Later prose syntaktika: Himer., Or. 11 Colona; Greg. Thaum., Prosphon. Orig. 16–19; cf. August Brinkmann, “Gregors des Thaumaturgen Panegyricus auf Origenes,” RhM, N.F. 56 (1901) 55–76; Henri Crouzel, Grégoire le Thaumaturge. Remerciement a Origène suivi de La Lettre d’Origène a Grégoire (SC 148; Paris: Cerf, 1969) 40–45. 34 The texts are respectively: John 14:3; 14:15; and 14:28. For the topos consolation by means of a surrogate, see my “Alius Paulus: Paul’s Promise to Send Timothy at Philippians 2.19–24,” NTS 54 (2008) 542–56. 35 Perdelwitz, Die Mysterienreligion und das Problem des 1. Petrusbriefes, 16–26; cf. Ps.Oecumen., Comm. in Ep. Cath. 573.56–7, 576.1–2 (PG 119): paramuqei'tai … dia; tou' koinwnou;~ aujtou;~ givnesqai tw`n tou' Kurivou pavsconta~ paqhmavtwn, kai; th'~ ajpokaluptomevnh~ dovxh~ klhromovmou~; Ps.-Theophyl., Expos. in I Ep. S. Petri, 1249C (PG 125). 36 Introduced with the vocative: jAgaphtoiv, mh; xenivzesqe ktl. 37 Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 97, who designates the material up to 4:11, “Mahnung und Trost,” and then reverses the emphasis and designates the material beginning in 4:12, “Trost und Mahnung.”
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The author begins with a thematic exhortation: mh; xenivzesqe th ejn uJmi'n purwvsei pro;~ peirasmo;n uJmi'n ginomevnh/ wJ~ xevnou uJmi'n sumbaivnonto~ (4:12).38 He is not unsympathetic to his readers’ suffering,39 which he acknowledges is a “fiery ordeal” (purwvsei).40 But he insists that this ordeal it is only a test (peirasmovn) that will lead to their future reward, a point he has already made at some length in 1:6–7.41 More important, he urges his readers not to be surprised (mh; xenivzesqe) by the recent escalation in hostility, as if something unexpected or “strange” (xevnou) were happening to them. This exhortation, which will structure the consolation that follows in 4:13–19 and continue to resurface at various points in 5:1–14, is an obvious example of the Cyrenaic consolatory topos “nothing unexpected has happened.”42 Both the language and the logic of 4:12 support this interpretation. We have already noted that the terminology of 1 Pet 4:12b (wJ~ xevnou uJmi'n sumbaivnonto~) is similar to Philo, De spec. leg. 2.87 (wJ~ ejpi; kainw`/ kai; xevnw/), where the topos also occurs,43 and is especially close to Chrysostom’s comments on 1 Thess 3:3–4: “[Paul assures them that] nothing strange is happening (oujde;n xevnon … sumbaivnei).”44 It might also be noted that in 1 Pet 4:12–13 “to be surprised” (xenivzesqai) is employed as the semantic opposite of “to rejoice” (caivrein, ajgallia'sqai): mh; xenivzesqe … ajlla; … caivrete, i{na … carh'te ajgalliwvmenoi.45 This contrast is significant in that it reproduces the contrast in 1:6–7 between “to be grieved” (lupei'sqai) and “to rejoice” (ajgallia'sqai; cf. carav in 1:8),46 but with “to be surprised” substituted for “to be grieved.” Thus in 1 Peter xenivzesqai overlaps semantically with lupei'sqai, so that “to be sur38 James I. H. McDonald, Kerygma and Didache: The Articulation and Structure of the Earliest Christian Message (SNTSMS 37; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980) 63. 39 On sympathy in consolation, see Holloway, Consolation in Philippians, 62–5. 40 The term pu V rwsi~ recalls the testing by fire in 1:6–7; it may also have evoked images of Nero’s burning Christians alive in his gardens in 64 c.e. (Tac., Ann. 15.44); cf. Beare, The First Epistle of Peter, 164. 41 Note here that the author is returning to themes in 1:1–12. 42 Commentators traditionally have understood 1 Pet. 4:12 (and other similar texts such as 1 Thess. 3:1–5 and Phil. 1:27–30) to reflect a peculiarly Gentile response to righteous suffering: Windisch, Die Katholischen Briefe (3rd rev. ed.) 77; Goppelt, Der erste Petrusbrief, 296. For a similar interpretation of 1 Thess. 3:3, see Malherbe, Letters to the Thessalonians, 198; for Phil. 1:28, see Nikolaus Walter, “Die Philipper und das Leiden. Aus den Anfängen einer heidenchristlichen Gemeinde,” in R. Schnackenburg et al., eds., Die Kirche des Anfangs: Für Heinz Schümann (Freiburg: Herder, 1978) 417–34. 43 The linguistic parallel to Philo, in addition to indicating the presence of this topos in 1 Pet. 4:12, suggests that the author of 1 Peter became familiar with this method of consolation through the diaspora synagogue – a reasonable assumption even without the evidence of De specialibus legibus. 44 In Ep. I ad Thess. hom. 3.410.31–32. 45 Elliott, 1 Peter, 774. 46 caivrein and ajgallia'sqai are used interchangeably in 1 Peter: thus ajgallia'sqe car_ ˝ in 1:18 becomes carh'te ajgalliwvmenoi in 4:13.
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prised” by misfortune is “to the grieved” by it. Here grief is clearly conceived along Cyrenaic lines.47 As regards the logic of 4:12, it is important to observe that the author is writing after the fact. He is not preparing his readers in advance for suffering that will take place (the praemeditatio futuri mali), but is seeking to remove the unexpectedness of suffering that is already taking place.48 This parallels precisely Cyrenaic procedure. In 4:13–19 the author defends his claim that nothing unexpected has happened with two supporting arguments.49 These arguments echo, albeit in a decidedly Christian form, the arguments traditionally adduced in support of the Cyrenaic strategy of consolation. We have already noted these arguments above. They are: (1) that others have suffered similar things, and (2) that suffering is according to the will of God.50 Corresponding to the first of these is 1 Pet 4:13–16, which points to the fact that Christ has similarly suffered: koinwnei'te toi'~ tou' Cristou' paqhvmasin ktl.51 Corresponding to the second is 4:17–19, which claims that the present suffering is part of God’s eschatological plan: oJ kairo;~ tou' a[rxasqai to; krivma ajpo; tou' oi[kou tou' qeou. Let me comment on these in order. In as much as the first of these arguments (4:13–16) adduces the suffering of Christ to normalize the suffering of Christians,52 it reproduces the logic of the traditional argument that others have suffered similar things. However, it does not reproduce the logic of that argument exactly. According to the traditional argument suffering can never be unexpected since the likelihood that one will suffer can be reliably inferred from the suffering of others. In the case of 1 Peter, however, suffering is more than a likelihood implied in the suffering of others; it 47 I do not mean to suggest by this that the author of 1 Peter has taken over the Cyrenaic theory of pleasure and pain in toto, but only that in practical terms he accepts the popular view that unexpected misfortune is particularly hard to bear, which brought with it certain assumptions on how grief was to be treated; recall Cic., Tusc. 3.13.28: “all sudden occurrences seem more serious”; cf. 3.22.52ff. 48 This may be the force of the negated present imperative: mh; xenivzesqe. Cf. Smyth, Greek Grammar, § 1841 d, who distinguishes between mh; fobou', “don’t be afraid” (an action continuing, in process), and mh; fobhqhó'~, “don’t be frightened” (an action concluded, summarized). 49 Thus Brox, Die erste Petrusbrief, 213: “Eine ganze Liste von Argumenten folgt”; cf. Windisch (Preisker), Die katholischen Briefe, 77: “Ein schlagendes Argument nach dem anderen löst diese Befremdung auf.” In what follows I only focus on the two arguments traditionally adduced to support our topos. 50 We have seen that these arguments lent themselves to Christian re-interpretation (e.g., 1 Thess. 3:1–10; Phil. 1:28–30). The author of 1 Peter further modifies these arguments to incorporate his earlier apocalyptic consolation. He is also concerned to explain to his readers why they should expect to be persecuted precisely as Christians (wJ~ Cristianov~; 4:16; cf. 4:14: ejn ojnovmati Cristou'). 51 The traditional version of this argument will appear at 5:9: ta; aujta; tw`n paqhmavtwn th §n kovsmw/ uJmw`n ajdelfovthta ejpitelei'sqai. 52 This argument was vetted earlier at 1 Pet 2:21–3 with respect to slaves, and at 3:18–22 in support of the praeparatio of 3:14–16.
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is a religious calling53 established by the suffering of Christ, who is as we have already noted the Christian’s heavenly counterpart.54 Here the logic of probability is replaced by a logic of imitation: as with Christ so with Christians,55 or even a logic of participation: Christians share in the sufferings of Christ.56 Because of this Christian suffering brings with it two uniquely Christian benefits which properly appreciated should cause Christians not only to expect suffering but to rejoice in it. First, by sharing in the sufferings of Christ Christians win for themselves a portion of his eschatological glory: kaqo; koinwnei'te toi'~ tou' Cristou' paqhvmsin caivrete, i{na kai; §n thÊ ajpokaluvyei th'~ dovxh~ aujtou' carh'te ajgalliwvmenoi (4:13).57 Second, whenever Christians are reviled for the name of Christ, the Spirit of God – which is also the Spirit of glory – sustains them in their indignities with a foretaste of the “blessedness” they are presently winning: eij ojneidivzesqe ejn ojnovmati Cristou', makavrioi, o{ti to; th'~ dovxh~ kai; to; tou' qeou' pneu'ma ejf j uJma'~ ajnapauvetai (4:14). In making this last point the author of 1 Peter quotes from the LXX of Isa 11:2, which he would have almost certainly interpreted as a Messianic prophecy. 58 But expressive of the above logic of Christ as the Christian’s counterpart he extends this to include his readers who are sharing in Christ’s suffering. Isa 11:2 LXX reads: kai; ajnapauvsetai ejp j aujto;n pneu'ma tou' qeou'. The author makes three changes. First, changes ejp j aujtovn to ejf j uJma'~ to refer to his readers. Second, he changes the future ajnapauvsetai to the present ajnapauvetai. This obviously emphasizes the present “blessedness” of his otherwise stigmatized readers. Finally, he rewrites pneu'ma tou' qeou' as to; th'~ dovxh~ kai; to; tou' qeou' pneu'ma. The addition of th'~ dovxh~ – the placement of which is emphatic – is clearly intended to pick up the reference to “the glory of [Christ]” (th'~ dovxh~ aujtou') in 4:13. The Spirit already bestows on suffering Christians a foretaste of the glory that will be theirs at the revelation of Christ. This foretaste of “glory” stands over against and nullifies the indignity of verbal abuse and threats. 59 This is the second time the author of 1 Peter has promised his readers the possibility of being “blessed” (makarioiv) in their suffering, the earlier being at
53
1 Pet 2:21a: eij~ tou'to ga;r ejklhvqhte; cf. 1:15; 2:9; 3:9; 5:10. For a discussion see chapter 6 above. This Christology is evoked earlier in 1 Peter in 2:15 and it the basis for the exegesis of Isa 11:2 (LXX) in 4:14. 55 1 Pet 2:21b: i{na ejpakolouqhvshte toi'~ i[cnesin aujtou'. 56 1 Pet 4:13: kaqo; koinwnei'te toi'~ tou' Cristou' paqhvmasin. 57 Cf. 1 Pet 1:6–9, 13; Elliot, 1 Peter, 776: “this notion of sharing in the sufferings of Christ is added here … [to explain] why suffering is nothing strange to the followers of Jesus Christ, their suffering Lord.” 58 Cf. Matt 3:16; John 1:32; Eph 1:17; Rev 1:4. 59 That it is verbal abuse that is primarily in view here is clear from 4:14a: eij ojneidivzesqe ejn ojnovmati Cristou'. 54
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3:13 (eij kai; pavscoite dia; dikaiosuvnhn, makavrioi).60 In both cases blessedness is offered as a present possibility, which departs at least in emphasis from the future orientation of the dominical beatitudes in Matt 5.61 The nature of this present blessedness is clarified in 4:14 where it is equated to eschatological joy made possible by a special gift of “the Spirit of glory.” Presumably this is similar in kind if not degree to the ecstasy of the martyr,62 who was thought to be similarly gifted with the Spirit in his or her final ordeal.63 In 1 Peter, however, this experience is read back into the day-to-day life of the stigmatized community as a palliative to their social marginalization and the suffering this produces.64 This marks a significant theological innovation, a “domestication” of the martyr’s joy that answers nicely to the “mundane, extreme environment” produced by social prejudice.65 This experience was intimated earlier in the letter at
60
See the discussion above in chapter 9. The blessedness promised in the beatitudes in Matt 5, while present in a certain sense, is primarily had in anticipation of the future: “Blessed are those who … , for they will be comforted/inherit/be filled/receive mercy etc.” The blessedness promised here in 1 Peter, while also anticipatory to a degree, is based on a very present experience of the Spirit. 62 E.g., Mart. Pol. 2.2: th'~ sarkov~ ajpedhvmoun; cf. Wisd 3:1–3: yucai; ejn ceiri; qeou'; Eus., Hist. eccl. (= Mart. Lugd.) 5.1.51: tou' me;n jAlexavndrou mhvte stenavxanto~ mhvte gruvxantov~ ti o{lw~, ajlla; kata; kardivan oJmilou'nto~ tw`/ qew`/; ibid., 5.1.56: [hJ makariva Blandi'na] mhde; ai[sqhsin e[ti tw`n sumbainovntwn e[cousa dia; th;n ejlpivda kai; ejpoch;n tw`n pepisteumevnwn kai; oJmilivan pro;~ Cristovn; cf. C. W. Bynum, The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity, 200–1336 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996) 45–6. Physiologically, these martyrs are obviously experiencing some form of trauma induced medical shock (e.g., hypovolemic shock due to loss of blood or severe burns) which among other things expresses itself in hypalgesia (a severely diminished sensitivity to pain); but it is the ancient religious interpretation of these phenomena that concerns us here; cf. Mart. Ludg. (= Eus. Hist. eccl.) 5.1.19, 24; Mart. Perp. 20.3; Mart. Carpi 39–40; Mart. Irenaei 4.4, 12; cf. Bushmann, Das Martyrium des Polycarp, 97 n. 43; for a more philosophical explanation (“pious reason,” oJ eujsebh;~ logismov~), see 4 Macc. 6.5–6; 7.13; cf. William R. Schoedel, The Apostolic Fathers: A New Translation and Commentary. Vol. 5: Polycarp, Martyrdom of Polycarp, Fragments of Papias (Camden: Nelson, 1967) 55, for further Hellenistic parallels. 63 Ascen. Isa. 5.14: “And while Isaiah was being sawed in half, he did not cry out or weep, but his mouth spoke with the Holy Spirit until he was sawed in two”; cf. Mart. Ludg. (= Eus. Hist. eccl.) 5.1.51: “Alexander uttered no groan or any cry at all, but simply spoke to God in his heart.” Stephen’s ecstasy at Acts 7:55 is similarly described as a “filling” of the Holy Spirit, but this time it results in a vision of the glorified Jesus: uJpavrcwn de; plhvrh~ pneuvmato~ aJgivou ajtenivsa~ eij~ to;n oujrano;n aujto;~ ei[den dovxan qeou' kai; Ij hsou'n eJstw`ta ejk dexiw`n tou' qeou'; cf. b. ‘Abod. Zar. 17b-18a (vision of Rabbi Hanina ben Teradion). In some cases martyrs experience the Spirit long before the day of their death, e.g., Mart. Perp. 3–10 (vision of Perpetua) and 11–13 (vision of Saturus); according to Acta Pauli (PHam 3) Paul was given a similar vision in prison. For the gift of the Spirit given to the martyr during his or her trial, see: Mark 13:11; Luke 12:11–12; 21:15; Matt 10:19–20; Acts 4:8: tovte Pevtro~ plhsqei;~ pneuvmato~ aJgivou ei\pen pro;~ aujtouv~ ktl; cf. John 16:7–11. 64 Berger, Historische Psychologie des Neuen Testaments, 205–8, 222–4. 65 Cf. Peters and Massey, “Mundane Extreme Environmental Stress in Family Stress Theories.” 61
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1:8, which similarly imagines the readers distracted by a joy that is “ineffable and glorious”: ajgallia'sqe cara'/ ajneklalhvtw/ kai; dedoxasmevnh/.66 The outpouring of “the Spirit of glory” on suffering Christians is not, however, unconditional. We have already seen this in the so-called praeparatio ad martyrium of 3:14–16, where to be “blessed” (makarioiv) requires a series of actions on the part of the suffering Christian including responding to accusers meta; prau?thto~ kai; fovbou so as to keep a “good conscience” (suneivdhsi~ ajgaqhv; 3:16, cf. 21) throughout his or her ordeal – an ideal not always realized judging from contemporary accounts. 67 Similar conditions are now stipulated in 4:15–16. The readers must not suffer for misdeeds that they have done, whether these be acts of obvious criminality (wJ~ foneu;~ h] klevpth~ h] kakopoio;~) or social nuisance (wJ~ ajllotriepivskopo~), both of which could have serious consequences (4:15).68 Their suffering must come simply as a consequence of their Christian identity (wJ~ Cristianov~; 4:16a), which is to say, the readers may only suffer as undeserving targets of anti-Christian prejudice.69 To suffer “as a Christian” will lead to blessing. It will also equip Christian sufferers to withstand any public shame heaped upon them by their detractors and/or persecutors: eij de; wJ~ Cristianov~, mh; aijscunevsqw (4:16). Shame is an obvious component of social stigma.70 But public shaming was also an important and well-developed part of the Roman penal system.71 Criminals were regularly mocked and humiliated in their deaths, and in many cases were likened to animals.72 This served to draw a clear line between socially acceptable and unacceptable or deviant behavior. But more importantly it confirmed Roman sensibilities about the moral or even natural superiority of good law-abiding citizens.73 Early Christians, of course, vigorously denied that they were de66
Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 58. See the discussion above in chapter 9. 68 Jeannine K. Brown, “Just a Busybody? A Look at the Greco-Roman Topos of Meddling for Defining ajllotriepivskopo~ in 1 Peter 4:15,” JBL 125 (2006): 549–568. 69 This is in keeping with the strategy described in 3:13–4:11 in that it is precisely as targets of prejudice that Christians can shift blame for their suffering to their prejudiced persecutors, a tactic that exploits what modern social psychology calls “attributional ambiguity.” See the discussion above in chapter 9 above. 70 Much has also been made more generally of ancient Mediterranean society as an honor and shame culture. For a recent critical reassessment of this trend, see Louise Joy Lawrence, An Ethnography of the Gospel of Matthew: A Critical Assessment of the Use of the Honour and Shame Model in New Testament Studies (WUNT 2.165; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003). 71 Beare, First Epistle of Peter, 167, speaks generally of “the indignity of arrest, conviction, and sentence on a criminal charge.” But there is more in play here. For the role of public stigma or infamia in Roman jurisprudence, see Crook, Law and Life, 83–85; Harries, Law and Crime, index s.v. infamia. The classic study is A. H. J. Greenridge, Infamia: Its Place in Roman Public and Private Law (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1894). 72 Donald G. Kyle, Spectacles of Death in Ancient Rome (London: Routledge, 1998). 73 E. Gunderson, “The Ideology of the Arena,” ClAnt 15 (1994) 113–51; Hopkins, Death and Renewal, 14–20; M. Clavel-Lévêque, L’Empire en jeux: Espace smbolique et pratique so67
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viants who deserved to be publicly shamed and executed,74 but this rarely stopped their abuse. Their only option in such circumstances was to cope emotionally,75 which the author of 1 Peter sought to do by redefining prejudice and persecution not as a source of shame but as an imitatio Christi (4:13) leading ultimately to “the Spirit of glory and of God” resting on the righteous sufferer (4:14).76 Armed with such insights, the author of 1 Peter urges his readers to resist the shame their opponents wished them to feel in their predicament.77 One final item in 4:13–16 calls for comment and that is the appearance of the name “Christian” (Cristianov~) at 4:16, which is introduced as if it were itself part of the opponents’ strategy of public shaming: eij de; wJ~ Cristianov~, mh; aijscunevsqw, doxazevtw de; to;n qeo;n ejn tw`/ ojnovmati touvtw/. David Horrell has recently discussed this text at length, including a proposal of how the name “Christian” (Christianus, Cristianov~) eventually came to be used by early Christians as a favored term of self-designation.78 Horrell agrees with the commonly held view that Christianus was coined by the opponents of early Christians, most likely in official investigations into the nature and origins of the group,79 ciale dans el monde romain (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1984); idem, “L’Espace de jeux dans le monde romaine: Hégémonie, symbolique et pratique sociale,” ANRW 2.16.3:2406–563; and more generally, Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (New York: Pantheon, 1977); Glen W. Bowersock, Martyrdom and Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). 74 As seen most obviously in the early Christian apologetic tradition. 75 This is the by now familiar shift from a problem-focused strategy (here public defense or ajpologiva) to an emotion-focused strategy (creatively re-imagining martyrdom). This was the point of the author’s advice in 3:13–4:6, and he returns to it here in 4:13–16. 76 G. W. H. Lampe (“Martyrdom and Inspiration,” 118–35) has aptly characterized these two strategies respectively as the “christology” and “pneumatology” of martyrdom. 77 Early martryologies consistently show Christians deploying both of these tactics – the belief that they are sharing in Christ’s sufferings and that they are being given a special experience of the Spirit – to overcome the shame of the arena and to die with their dignity intact. On the shaming of Perpetua, see Shaw, “Passion of Perpetua,” 7–9, esp. 8 n 22; on resisting shame and thus foiling the intent of their persecutors, see Potter “Martyrdom and Spectacle,” 56–63; cf. Mart. Pol. 9.2: oJ de; Poluvkarpo~ ejmbriqei' tw`/ proswvpw/ eij~ pavnta to;n o[clon to;n ejn tw`/ stadivw/ ajnovmwn ejqnw`n ejblevya~ (Sara Parvis, “The Martyrdom of Polycarp,” ExpT 118 [2006] 110: “What the narrative is keen above all to stress is that Polycarp kept his dignity and the governor lost his”); Acta Pauli 7 (= P.Ham. 4). 78 “The Label Cristianov~”; idem, “Leiden als Discriminierung und Martyrium.” 79 “The Label Cristianov~,” 362–7. It is long been recognized that the suffix -iano~ is the Grecized form of the Latin -ianus which means something like “follower of” or “supporter of” as in, say, Brutianus or Caesarianus. It is difficult to ascertain whether the term is of popular derivation or arose in official investigations, though if as Acts suggests that the term was first used in Antioch – and it is difficult to see why the author of Acts would have made this up – then the fact that it we are dealing here with a Latin suffix suggests an official origin. The argument is made by Erik Pederson, “Christianus,” in idem, Frühkirche, Judentum, und Gnosis (Freiburg: Herder, 1959) 64–87, and Justin Taylor, “Why Were the Disciples First Called ‘Christians’ at Antioch? (Acts 11,26),” RB 101 (1994) 75–94 (discussed by Horrell, op. cit.).
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and that it was originally a term of opprobrium.80 But drawing on the Social Identity Theory of Henri Tajfel and the Theory of Self-Stigmatization (Selbststigmatisierung) of Wolfgang Lipp, he argues that the name Christianus was eventually taken over by Christians themselves who consciously transformed it into a term of pride, in much the same way that “queer,” which was originally a derogatory term used to stigmatize homosexuals, was taken over as a name of choice by certain groups to challenge and ultimately to reverse this form of verbal abuse81 – Christianus es? Christianus sum!82 This is a compelling interpretation, especially in the context of 1 Peter, where just such a strategy would have been valued and promoted.83 Indeed, one wonders whether it is precisely here in 1 Peter that this strategy is first being recommended. To be sure, coming as it does at the end of the letter, it is not one of the author’s central strategies. But that is beside the point. Indeed, if Horrell is right, the strategy recommended here is not unlike the emotionfocused coping strategy reviewed above in chapter 5 that takes a negative term used to highlight a group’s stigma, and changes its valence by insisting that it is a positive term: “Being black is not a stigma. Black is beautiful.”84 This makes excellent sense of 4:16 where the author goes out of his way to insist that “Christian” is a “name” to be proud of: eij de; wJ~ Cristianov~ … doxazevtw de; to;n qeo;n tjn tw`/ ojnovmati touvtw/.85 80 The logic here is made clear by Tacitus: Christiani are the followers (party of) Christus, who was a criminal put to a shameful death by Pontius Pilate. Horrell, “The Label Cristianov~,” 376: “1 Peter makes it clear that those who bore this ‘mark’ [= the name “Chrisitan”] were subject to informal hostility and to official censure, negative responses that could combine in the accusatorial process to bring about physical suffering and death.” 81 Tajfel’s work is discussed above in chapters 3 and 5; here note especially the following studies by Lipp: “Selbstigmatisierung,” in M. Brusten and J. Hohmeier, eds., Selbststigmatizierung: zur Produktion gesellschaftlicher Randgruppen (Neuwied and Darmstadt: Luchterhand, 1975) 25–53; idem, “Charisma: Social Deviation, Leadership and Cultural Change. A Sociology of Deviance Approach,” Annual Review of Social Sciences of Religion 1 (1977) 59–77; idem, Stigma und Charisma: Über soziales Grenzverhalten (Berlin: Dietrich Reimer, 1985). 82 Cf. Mart. Lugd. (= Eus., Hist. eccl.) 5.1.20, where the deacon Sanctus from Vienne answers all the questions put to him regarding not only his name, but his birthplace, nationality, and so on, with “Christianus sum.” It is characteristic of Ignatius of Antioch that he not only wants to be called a Christian (like everybody else) but to distinguish himself by actually “becoming a Christian” (by a gruesome death; Mag. 4; Rom. 3.2); Cf. Horrell, “The Label Cristianov~,” 380, who cites Judith M. Lieu, Image and Reality: The Jews in the World of the Christians in the Second Century (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1996) 29: “the epithet ‘Chrisians’ … has become his [sc. Ignatius’s] most favoured name for believers and a designation of honour.” 83 Horrell suggests the history of the term “cynic” as a possible ancient analogy of this strategy, and perhaps also “Pharisee.” 84 Cf. Horrell, “The Label Cristianov~,” 379. 85 The “name” (o[noma) here is not “Christ” (as in 4:14) but “Christian.” “Christian” is now a badge of pride.
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This brings me to the second supporting argument in 4:17–19. Christians may not only expect to suffer because Christ has suffered (4:13–16), but because God wills their suffering as part of God’s plan for the end of the age: o{ti oJ kairo;~ tou' a[rxasqai to; krivma ajpo; tou' oi[kou tou' qeou' (4:17). One of the ways in which Jewish apocalyptists offered consolation to their beleaguered co-religionists was to claim that their present ordeal – and there was never any shortage of ordeals – was God purifying God’s people in advance of their final redemption.86 This was a brilliant solution because it meant that suffering itself was evidence of God’s love.87 It also meant that any escalation in suffering could be interpreted as a sign of the nearness of the end. But the argument could also work the other way around, as seems to be the case here in 1 Peter. For if suffering means the nearness of the end, then the nearness of the end means suffering.88 Or to put it another way, given the fact that many if not most Christians at the time that 1 Peter was written believed on other grounds that the end was immanent, they could infer that suffering was also immanent and that therefore Christians should expect to suffer, or as the author of 1 Peter puts it, they should not be “surprised” by suffering (4:12). But there is another comforting thought to be gotten from this analysis. For it is not only the case that God preemptively disciplines the righteous in order to purify them so that they will not be condemned in the final judgment. God also allows the wicked to continue unchastened in their sins in order to guarantee that their condemnation will be both complete and fully deserved. The author of 2 Maccabees uses this principle mutatis mutandis to explain the deaths of the Maccabean martyrs and the free hand given to their persecutors:89 It is a sign of great kindness not to let the impious alone for long, but to punish them immediately. For in the case of the other nations the Lord waits patiently to punish them until they have reached the full measure of their sins. But he does not deal in this way with us, in order that he may not take vengeance on us afterward when our sins have reached their height.
When the righteous suffer at the hands of the wicked, God is not only showing kindness to the righteous; God is also preparing the wicked for a vengeful judgment. The readers of 1 Peter can also take comfort in this.
86 E.g., Dan 11:35; cf. 2 Bar. 13.1–12; 78.6; 4 Ezra 7:14; Rev 7:14; more generally, Pss. Sol. 3.3–4; 10.1–4; 13.6–11. 87 Cf. Heb 12:8: eij de; cwriv~ ejste peideiva~ h|~ mevtocoi gegovnasin pavnte~, a[ra novqoi kai; oujc uiJoiv ejste. 88 Cf. 1 Thess 3:3–4. 89 2 Macc 6:13–15; the context here is of course not as patently eschatological as 1 Peter, but the principle is the same. An opposite view of God’s patience is taken in Rom 2:4; cf. 2 Pet 3:8–9. The author of 1 Peter clearly does not share the evangelistic impulse of the authors of these latter texts.
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If this seems like vindictiveness, that is because it is. But this is a very normal human response to persecution and it is well established in contemporary Jewish and Christian tradition, as I have already shown.90 The argument, as Feldmeier has rightly pointed out, is from the lesser to the greater (a minore ad maius): “if these bad things are happening to us, the household of God, surely even worse things will happen to our unbelieving and godless opponents.”91 Thus 4:18a: eij de; prw`ton ajf j hJmw`n, tiv to; tevlo~ tw`n ajpeiqouvntwn tw`/ tou' qeou' eujaggelivw/? A point repeated for emphasis in 4:18b: kai; eij oJ divkaio~ movli~ swv/zetai, oJ ajsebh;~ kai; aJmartwlo;~ pou' fanei'tai?92 Thus assured of God’s eventual justice the readers can focus on their own behavior and trust God to reward them and punish their enemies: w{ste kai; oiJ pavsconte~ kata; to; qevlhma tou' qeou' pistw`/ ktivsth/ paratiqevsqwsan ta;~ yuca;~ aujtw`n ejn ajgaqopoii?a (4:19).93
“Be examples to the flock” (1 Pet 5:1–5) In 5:1–5 the author begins what at first glance appears to be a more traditional form of parenesis, speaking first to “elders” (5:1–4), and then to “young men” (5:5a), and finally to all members of the churches to which he is writing (5:5b). However, on closer analysis themes relevant to the situation of the readers can be noted. I will mention two of these. First, there is the question of leadership for these persecuted communities. We know from a number of sources that the leaders of early Christian congregations were singled out for abuse. Ignatius, bishop of Antioch is an obvious case in point, as is Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna.94 But lesser figures were also singled out. Pliny tortured two female slaves whom he calls ministrae,95 and at massacre at Lyon the leaders of both Lyon and Vienne were targeted for especially cruel treatment.96 It was also the leaders of the earliest movement, such as Stephen in Jerusalem and perhaps
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On vindictiveness as a topos in Jewish consolation see the discussion above in chapter 4. Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 152. 92 Citing Prov. 11:31 LXX, which has translated μlvy (to be “paid back”) as movli~ swv/zetai allowing for an easy eschatological interpretation. 93 Note here that “trust” in 1 Peter is relying on God to bring about justice in the final judgment and conducting oneself now with a view to that judgment; cf. 1:9, 21 (w{ste th;n pivstin uJmw`n kai; ejlpivda eij~ qeovn); 3:5 (aiJ ejlpivzousai eij~ qeo;n); 5:7 (pa'san th;n mevrimnan uJmw`n ejpirivyante~ ejp j aujtovn, o{ti aujtw`/ mevlei peri; uJmw`n). Christ had a similar faith (2:23: paredivdou de; tw`/ krivnonti dikaivw~). 94 Polycarp’s singling out is explicitly stated at Mart. Pol. 3.2. 95 Ep. 10.96.8. 96 Eus., Hist. eccl. 5.1.20 (the deacon Sanctus), 29–31 (the bishop Pothinus), 50 (the “pillar” Attalus). 91
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Sosthenes in Corinth, that are interrogated and either executed or severely beaten, sometimes by an official, but at other times by an angry crowd.97 It is in this context that the author identifies himself as a “fellow elder” and as a “witness” to the sufferings of Christ: presbutevrou~ ou\n ejn uJmi'n parakalw` oJ sumpresbuvtero~ kai; mavrtu~ tw`n tou' Cristou' paqhmavtwn (5:1a).98 The latter claim (mavrtu~ tw`n tou' Cristou' paqhmavtwn) probably means both one who was a witness of the sufferings of Christ (a claim that could be generally associated with Peter, the alleged author of our letter)99 and one who by his own suffering bears witness to the sufferings of Christ. Because of his own suffering the author expresses hope that he will share in Christ’s glory: oJ kai; th'~ mellouvsh~ ajpokaluvptesqai dovxh~ koinwnov~ (5:1b).100 He urges the elders within these targeted congregations to discharge their duties willingly, not begrudgingly out of a sense of necessity or for the financial allowance that apparently came with the office: poimavnate to; ejn uJmi'n poivmnion tou' qeou' ejpiskopou'nte~ mh; ajnagkastw`~ ajlla; eJkousivw~ kata; qeovn, mhde; aijscrokerdw`~ ajlla; proquvmw~ (5:2).101 He charges them to be “examples” to their flocks, even as Christ, the “chief shepherd,” is an example for them, and he promises that if they do so they will be rewarded greatly: tuvpoi ginovmenoi tou' poimnivou: kai; fanerwqevnto~ tou' ajrcipoivmeno~ komiei'sqe to;n ajmaravntinon th'~ dovxh~ stevfanon (5:3b-4).102 The second theme I wish to comment on appears in the exhortation to the “young men” and to the other members of these congregations in 5:5.103 The author of 1 Peter felt that it was important for early Christians in presenting themselves to the wider society to demonstrate that they were well-ordered communities in which traditional values such as submission to authority and harmony were displayed. This was the topic of 2:11–3:12. He returns to this topic in 5:5: JOmoivw~, newvteroi, uJpotavghte presbutevroi~: pavnte~ de; ajllhvloi~ th;n tapeinofrosuvnhn ejgkombwvsasqe. He supports his advice with 97 Acts 7:59 (Stephen); 18:17 (Sosthenes; cf. 1 Cor 1:1). According to Acts 18, Sosthenes is still associated with the synagogue when he is beaten. It is possible, I think likely, that he was already a follower of Paul and that Luke has covered this up. 98 In presenting himself as an “elder” the author makes more acceptable that he has written a letter of advice; cf. Stowers, Letter Writing, 108. 99 According to tradition Peter was not present at the crucifixion of Jesus, but he was the last to desert him. Commentators such as Feldmeier (Der erste Brief des Petrus, 155–6) who allow these details to preclude a reference to Peter put too fine a point on the matter. 100 A common theme, of course, in 1 Peter, just treated at length in 4:12–19. 101 An indication that elders were at this point beginning to be financially compensated for their service? 102 ajmaravntinon recalls ajmavranton in 1:4. 103 While it is important to contextualize parenetic texts as far as possible, we must be careful not to over interpret them. In particular, I would wish to avoid the kind of excessive “mirror reading” that takes every antithesis as expressing some detail of the underlying situation. Antithesis is characteristic of parenesis, where it is frequently used for simply rhetorical emphasis or even stylistic variation (cf. Quint., Inst. 8.5.9–10, 15).
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a scripture reference: oJ qeo;~ uJperhfavnoi~ ajntitavssetai, tapeinoi'~ de; divdwsin cavrin (Prov 3:34 LXX).104
“Humble yourselves under the hand of God” (1 Pet 5:6–11) The author of 1 Peter follows the exhortations to elders and their followers in 5:1–5 with a series of sententiae or gnw`mai in 5:6–11.105 These sententiae reiterate some of the major themes of the letter with an emphasis on consolation. Four separate thoughts may be identified. I have discussed each of these ideas at various places above and so I will simply list them here. They are: (1) that God will reward the readers in due time (5:6, 10);106 (2) that even now the readers may look to God for comfort and strength (5:7);107 (3) that the readers are in a cosmic battle with the Devil (5:8);108 and (4) that Christians throughout the world are suffering the same things that they are (5:9).109 As in 4:11b, where a doxology concludes the central portion of the letter, a short doxology is added here: aujtw`/ to; kravto~ eij~ tou;~ aijw`na~, ajmhvn (5:11).
“I have written to exhort and to testify” (1 Pet 5:12–14) This brings us to 1 Pet 5:12–14, the final verses of the letter which serve a dual function. On the one hand, as an epistolary conclusion they offer verisimilitude to the “letter.” So, for example, the first person singular e[graya continues the letter’s pseudepigraphy, while the reference to “Babylon” places the alleged author in Rome. I discussed these and other details in chapter 1 and so I will say no more about them here. On the other hand, 5:12 in particular functions rhetorically as a brief peroratio or restatement of the letter’s principal theme: 104 The exhortation to similar behavior in 1 Pet 3:8–9 is given similar support from the wisdom Ps 34 (13–17) in 3:10–12. 105 For similar series of sententiae, see Gal 6:1–10 and Rom 12:9–21, with comments respectively by Betz, Galatians, 291–311 and Wilson, Love Without Pretense. For the genre in general, see Konstantin Horna, “Gnome, Gnomendichtung, Gnomologien,” PWSup 6 (1935) 74–87; Kurt von Fritz, ibid., 87–90; Jürgen Mau, “Gnome,” KP 2 (1967) 823–30. 106 Cf. 1 Pet 1:7, 9, 13; 2:19–20; 4:13; 5:1, 4. 107 Cf. 1 Pet 1:5: tou;~ ejn dunavmei qeou' frouroumevnou~ dia; pivstew~ eij~ swthrivan; also 2:2–3; 4:1, 14. 108 An increasingly important theme in apocalyptic consolation, for which see chapter 4 above. 109 This is a more traditional form of the argument that others have suffered similar things (cf. 4:13–16). However, by emphasizing that it is other Christians who suffer, the theme of calling continues: all Christians are called to suffer.
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di j ojlivgwn e[graya parakalw`n kai; ejpimarturw`n tauvthn ei\nai ajlhqh'Ê cavrin tou' qeou' eij~ h{n sth'te.110 I wish to make two final comments on this second point. The first concerns the expression parakalw`n kai; ejpimarturw`n which should probably be translated “exhorting and testifying.” It is, of course, possible to translate parakalw`n “consoling” and that would be consistent with the letter’s consolation. But the letter is principally a letter of advice (so 1:13–4:11) and so “exhorting” is probably the better translation. This then leaves ejpimarturw`n to characterize the letter’s consolatory themes. On this reading, the author of 1 Peter acknowledges the mixed genre of his letter: exhortation (advice) and consolation. Lohse aptly summarizes this when he paraphrases: zu stärken un zu trösten.111 My second comment concerns the statement tauvthn ei\nai ajlhqh'Ê cavrin tou' qeou'. This designates the content “testified” to by the letter, and as such summarizes the letter’s principal consolatory thrust that the present escalation of hostilities is to be interpreted as an aspect of God’s “grace.” Paul expresses a similar sentiment regarding suffering at Phil 1:29: o{ti uJmi'n ejcarivsqh to; uJpe;r Cristou', ouj movnon to; eij~ aujton pisteuvein ajlla; kai; to; uJpe;r aujtou' pavscein. In 1 Peter suffering is a gift because it purifies the righteous in advance of the eschaton, and because if properly approached it leads to eschatological joy even now.
110
Cf. Rom 15:15: tomhrovteron de; e[graya uJmi'n ktl. “Paränese und Kerygma in 1 Petrusbrief,” 73. Somewhat differently: Feldmeier, Der erste Brief des Petrus, 97, who characterizes 1 Pet 3:12–4:11 as “Mahnung und Trost” and 4:12–5:11 “Trost and Mahnung.” 111
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Conclusion By the beginning of the second century c.e. Christianity had become a despised religious cult. According to Tacitus Christians were sewage. According to Pliny they were a disease. According to Suetonius they were among the dregs of society to be purged from any decent city. These hostile sentiments were widely shared and were supported by a growing list of damaging stereotypes that further cemented public animosity. But there was more, for Roman criminal courts were easily swayed by popular prejudice and had the leeway, if not in fact the mandate, to punish its targets. This required, of course, that some private citizen was willing to bring an accusation. But accusers could almost always be found when the situation demanded it, and in at least some cases bringing an accusation meant little more than publishing a list of suspected offenders or even shouting their names in an already assembled court. Actual persecutions may have been local and sporadic – as current histories of early Christianity are wont to remind us – but the social prejudice underlying them was constant, and it is on the basis of this ever-present threat that the lived experience of early Christians must be imagined. At some point near the end of the first century or beginning of the second a gentile Christian living somewhere in Roman Anatolia responded to this rapidly deteriorating situation by writing what is now our 1 Peter. Posing as the soon-to-be-martyred apostle writing from Rome shortly before his demise, he wrote not to the despisers of Christianity – he held little hope for them, and besides their final judgment was even now taking shape – but to his beleaguered co-religionists, consoling them in their suffering and advising them on how best to cope with the prejudice of their neighbors. He was obviously well-versed in the Greek translation of the Jewish Scriptures, at this point also the Christian Scriptures, which he quotes repeatedly and with considerable skill, and which fundamentally informs his thinking. But he freely interprets these Scriptures with reference to contemporary apocalyptic speculation, both Jewish and Christian, and he does not hesitate to mix in certain “pagan” motifs and metaphors when these support his theological interpretation and practical recommendations. He begins his “letter” with words of consolation. Many of his readers are recent converts, and in his initial consolation he takes as his point of departure the claim that in their conversion they have been “born again” – a concept he
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most likely borrows from the mysteries – which new birth brings with it the hope of resurrection and reward. Drawing on Jewish apocalyptic themes, he assures his readers that these rewards are secure, already prepared and waiting for them in heaven, and that they themselves are under the protection of God, thanks in large part to the apotropaic qualities of their faith. Their present suffering promises to be brief – the end is near – and is at any rate part of God’s plan to make them ready for their reward. Their suffering also brings with it the potential for a deeper experience of Christ, whose representative suffering, death, and subsequent glorification they are now in the process of recapitulating. The bulk of 1 Peter, however, lies with the author’s efforts to advise his readers on how to cope with their predicament. He offers three strategies, which as we have seen closely resemble strategies employed by stigmatized groups today. The first of these is a kind of meta-strategy that follows logically upon his claim that Christians have been born again into the apocalyptic family of God and responds to the fact that as socially stigmatized persons the readers are being denied many of the goods of this world. According to this strategy, the readers are to embrace their new birth as a point of self-identity and to refocus their hopes and values on the rewards soon to be theirs in the world to come. This radical reorientation of values, rejecting the contested goods of this world for the certain rewards of the world to come, is a form of what modern social psychologists call “disidentification.” It constitutes the Christian’s most basic response to the harsh realities of prejudice and should inform every aspect of the readers’ lives. The second and third strategies are not as sweeping as the first “disidentifying” strategy, but focus instead on two particular types of situations. The second focuses on those situations where violence can potentially be avoided if the readers will prudently adjust their behavior so as to refute hostile stereotyping, especially stereotyping to the effect that all Christians are social and political subversives or mali homines punishable by imperial mandate. This strategy is an obvious instance of what modern social psychologists call behavioral “compensation,” where targets of prejudice take it upon themselves to compensate for the social distance created by their stigma, including intentionally displaying behavior that contradicts popular misperception. The third strategy envisages just the opposite situation, one in which efforts at appeasement have failed and physical persecution has become unavoidable. Because nothing can be done to improve the situation outwardly, the readers must find a way to cope with negative outcomes internally or emotionally. The author of 1 Peter recommends that confronted with such a situation his readers make every effort to keep a good conscience and to attribute the responsibility for their mistreatment wholly to their persecutors. This will keep them from feeling defeated and ashamed. It will also allow them to imagine themselves suf-
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fering on account of righteousness as Christ did and to anticipate a similar vindication. If fully embraced, it will even allow them to experience a foretaste of that vindication now, and with it a final break with the sins of their past, which sins continue to characterize their persecutors who will be accordingly judged. This final strategy exploits what modern social psychologists call “attributional ambiquity,” a much studied and surprisingly effective method for deflecting blame for one’s hardships. The author ends his letter as he began it with words of consolation. Here, however, he takes as his point of departure the popular philosophical argument that suffering is more easily endured if it is expected. He integrates this neatly into his theological perspective, reminding his readers that given Christ’s suffering and the present apocalyptic timetable, the “fiery trial” currently testing them should not be viewed as something strange and unexpected. He concludes by urging local elders to be examples to their suffering flocks, followed by further assurances that God will sustain and reward the readers.
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Plate 1 Alexamenos Graffito (graffito con crocifisso blasfemo; Palatine Museum)
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Plate 2 Detail of the Alexamenos Graffito. Note the care taken to incise the ass head (the obvious point of the graffito). Note also what appears to be a titulus added above the head (Matt 27:37; Luke 23:38; cf. Mark 15:26; John 19:19).
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