Deacons and Diakonia in Early Christianity: The First Two Centuries 3161566467, 9783161566462

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Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2. Reihe Herausgeber / Editor Jörg Frey (Zürich) Mitherausgeber / Associate Editors Markus Bockmuehl (Oxford) ∙ James A. Kelhoffer (Uppsala) Tobias Nicklas (Regensburg) ∙ J. Ross Wagner (Durham, NC)

479

Deacons and Diakonia in Early Christianity The First Two Centuries Edited by

Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy, and Esko Ryökäs

Mohr Siebeck

Bart J. Koet, born 1955; Professor of New Testament Studies and Early Christian Literature, and Dean of Research at the Tilburg School of Catholic Theology (the Netherlands). orcid.org/0000-0002-0598-3443 Edwina Murphy, born 1970; Lecturer in Church History at Morling College (Australian College of Theology and University of Divinity) in Sydney, Australia. orcid.org/0000-0001-9605-9880 Esko Ryökäs, born 1953; Adjunct Professor in Systematic Theology at University of Eastern Finland in Joensuu and docent in Practical Theology at Åbo Akademi University. orcid.org/0000-0001-9018-455X

ISBN  978-3-16-156646-2 / eISBN  978-3-16-156647-9 DOI 10.1628/978-3-16-156647-9 ISSN  0340-9570 / eISSN  2568-7484 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, 2. Reihe) The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2018 Mohr Siebeck Tübingen. www.mohrsiebeck.com This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was typeset using minion pro typeface, printed on non-aging paper, and bound by Gulde Druck in Tübingen. Printed in Germany.

To His All-Holiness Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew for being a special Διάκονος, connecting Christian wisdom with the needs of the suffering earth.

Foreword Munib Younan

On 31 October 2016 in Lund, Sweden, Pope Francis, General Secretary of Lutheran World Federation, Rev. Dr. Martin Junge, and myself as LWF President co-hosted a common prayer service and arena event at the start of the 500th ­anniversary year of the Reformation. This historic event was planned in conjunction with the local congregations of the Lutheran Church of Sweden and the Catholic Diocese of Stockholm, and is just one example of the ways churches are seeking a better shared understanding of each other and of the mysteries of the faith. One significant area of recent ecumenical discussions is the interpretation of the ministry – what it is and how it should be exercised. Even so, the role of a deacon has not been the subject of much debate, although on this point a number of different opinions are apparent: some churches have a more liturgical, some a more musical, some a more service-oriented understanding of the role of deacon. In fact, much of the debate around the role of deacon is based on recent national and denominational traditions rather than being rooted in the earliest sources. Now is the time for exegetical and theological analysis of these texts, part of our joint faith heritage, for what they can contribute to our modern practice. Investigating the ministry of the diaconate can also provide a useful beginning to joint ecumenical ministry endeavors. In Jerusalem, we recently ordained an American woman, Ms. Adrainne Gray, to the office of deacon. In my sermon for her ordination service, I noted that when we read about the commissioning of the first deacons in the sixth chapter of Acts, we notice that the office of deacon was not meant to be a position less than the ministry of the Word, but a complementary one. The ministry of service was vital to the ongoing mission of the early church. The twelve could not accomplish their calling without the deacons, and vice versa. It was only through their equal partnership that the church could feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, and care for the widows and orphans, and at the same time teach and preach. As a result of their faithful accompaniment in mission, we read in Acts 6 verse 7: “The word of God continued to spread; the number of the disciples increased greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith.”

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Foreword

It is clear that the role of deacon has been vital to the ministry of the church from the earliest days. Therefore, it must be considered thoughtfully and seriously in our ongoing ecumenical discussions. It is worth noting that in 2009 the Lutheran World Federation published a document called “Diakonia in Context: Transformation, Reconciliation, Empowerment.” This is a valuable Lutheran contribution to the ongoing ecumenical discussion regarding the understanding of diakonia and diaconal structures and practices in churches and congregations. My hope is that this interdisciplinary book, including articles from scholars with different backgrounds and denominations, can help to stimulate dialogue and increase unity between Christians. Ultimately, my hope is that this deeper understanding will increase our ability to engage in mutual prophetic diakonia, for the sake of our neighbours, in the name of Jesus Christ. Signed, Bishop Dr. Munib Younan Bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land President Emeritus, Lutheran World Federation

Contents Munib Younan Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VII Introduction Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy and Esko Ryökäs Assessing the Role and Function of an Assistant: The Deacon in the First Two Centuries of Christianity . . . . . . . . . 3   1. How Important is the Second Leader? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3   2. Deacons and Deaconesses in the Twenty-First Century: Differences and Common Roots? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6   3. The Need for Further Research Due to New Philological Ideas . 10   4. The Aim of This Collection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13   5. New Life from Old Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Biblical Sources Peter-Ben Smit Exegetical Notes on Mark 10:42–45: Who Serves Whom? . . . . . . . . 17  1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17   2. From the Old to the New Consensus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17   3. Narrative and Contextual Observations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19   4. Who is a Διάκονος to Whom? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23  5. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 John N. Collins The Rhetorical Value of Διακον- in Matthew 25:44 . . . . . . . . . . . . 31   1. Translating the Διακον- Verb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31  2. Διακον- among Other Verbs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33  3. The Διακον- Verb and the Modern Tradition of Diakonia . . . . 34   4. Disrupting the Consensus on Diakonia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37   5. Among “the Great Ones” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39   6. The Diakonia of “the Accursed” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42  7. Conclusion: Diakonia and Diakonie . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42

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Bart J. Koet Luke 10:38–42 and Acts  6:1–7: A Lukan Diptych on Διακονία . . . . . . 45  1. Lexicography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45   2. Acts  6:1–7 as a Narrative about Ministry of the Word within the Book of Acts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48   3. Luke 10:38–42 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52   4. Acts  6:1–7 as a Narrative about Ministry of the Word in Light of Luke 10:38–42 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56   5. Conclusion: Learning and Doing in Rabbinic Judaism . . . . . . 60 Bart J. Koet Like a Royal Wedding: On the Significance of Diakonos in John 2:1–11 65   1. John 2:1–11 in Short . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67   2. Are the Diakonoi in John 2:1–11 Humble Slaves? . . . . . . . . . 68   3. Is the Diakonos a Slave? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70  4. The Diakonoi in John 2:1–11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71  5. The Diakonoi of John 2 in the Church Fathers . . . . . . . . . . . 74   6. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 Joke H. A. Brinkhof Philip, One of the Seven in Acts (6:1–6; 8:4–40; 21:8) . . . . . . . . . . . 79   1. Seven Men Chosen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80   2. Focus on Stephen and Philip . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82  3. Stephen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83  4. Philip . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84   5. The Seven Profiled by Stephen and Philip . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86   6. Philip, Simon, Peter, and Paul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87   7. Philip, a Relating “Deacon” and Evangelist . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89   8. Conclusion: Luke Underlines the Relating Function of the Seven in the Composition of the Narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 Margaret Mowczko What did Phoebe’s Position and Ministry as Διάκονος of the Church at Cenchrea Involve? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91   1. Introducing Phoebe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91   2. “Our Sister” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92   3. “A Benefactor of Many” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93   4. Paul’s Use of Διάκονος . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97   5. Women Ministers in the Gospels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98   6. Phoebe and Paul’s Letter to the Romans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99   7. Was Phoebe an Official Deacon? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101   8. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

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Anni Hentschel Paul’s Apostleship and the Concept of Διακονία in 2 Corinthians . . . . 103   1. Usage of the Terms Ἀπόστολος and Διάκονος . . . . . . . . . . . . 105   2. Paul as Apostle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107   3. Conflict over Paul’s Preaching in Corinth . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107  4. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 Lauri Thurén Divine Headhunting? The Function of the Qualifications of Deacons in 1 Tim  3:8–13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117   1. The Historical Setting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118   2. The Antagonists as Bad Deacons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120   3. The Function of the Qualifications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123   4. Particular Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124   5. Conclusion: “How Little, Really, We Learn” . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 The Earliest Christian (Extra-Biblical) Sources John Granger Cook Pliny’s Tortured Ministrae: Female Deacons in the Ancient Church? . . 133   1. Pliny’s Text: His Understanding of Ministrae . . . . . . . . . . . 134   2. Lexicographical Research on Ministra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136   3. The Literary Evidence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137   4. The Inscriptional Evidence: The Cult of Bona Dea . . . . . . . . 141   5. Inscriptional Evidence: Other Cults and Associations . . . . . . 144   6. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Bart J. Koet The Bishop and His Deacons. Ignatius of Antioch’s View on Ministry: Two-fold or Three-fold? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149  1. Ignatius of Antioch as the First Witness to the Threefold Ministry? 150   2. Two-fold Ministry before Ignatius of Antioch . . . . . . . . . . . 151   3. The Special Relation between Ἐπίσκοπος and Διάκονοι in the Ignatian Literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154   4. What Do Bishops and Deacons Do and How Is Their Relationship Typified? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155   5. The Deacon as the Σύνδουλος of the Bishop . . . . . . . . . . . . 160   6. Ignatius’ Qualifications for Deacons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162  7. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162

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John N. Collins Διακον- and Deacons in Clement of Alexandria . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165   1. The Christian Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166   2. Clement’s Gnostic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166   3. The Gnostic as “Διάκονος” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167   4. Modelling the Heavenly Ranks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168   5. The Deacon Title . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169   6. A Heavenly Connection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170   7. A Hellenistic Cluster of Agent Diakonoi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170   8. Disciple Agents in the Model of the Teacher . . . . . . . . . . . . 172   9. Standard Greek Idiom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173 10. Conclusion: A Legacy from Clement? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 Bart J. Koet Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Understanding the Two-fold Ministry of Ἐπισκόποι and Διάκονοι according to First Clement (1 Clem.  42:5) . . 177   1. First Clement as a Letter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178   2. The Structure of First Clement and the Place of 1 Clem.  40–44 within It . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180   3. Isa 60:17 in 1 Clem.  42:5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182   4. Traces of Two-fold Ministry in Early Christian Literature . . . . 189  5. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 Mark Grundeken What Do “Deacons” Do in the Shepherd of Hermas? . . . . . . . . . . 193  1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193   2. Does Hermas Testify to the Presence of “Deacons” in the Christian Communities in Rome? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195   3. What Do the Διάκονοι in Hermas Do? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 198   4. Are the Διάκονοι in Hermas “Helpers” of the Ἐπίσκοποι? . . . . . 201  5. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202 Clayton N. Jefford Understanding the Concept of Deacon in the Didache . . . . . . . . . . 203   1. Original or Supplemental? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203   2. Limited or Wider Implications? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206   3. Unique in Concept or Typical? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208   4. Summary and Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211

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Paul Foster Deacons (Διάκονοι) and Διακονία in the Writings of Justin and Irenaeus 215  1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215   2. Justin on Deacons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215   3. Irenaeus on Deacons and Διακονία . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219   4. Conclusion: Deacons and Διακονία in Justin and Irenaeus . . . . 224 Serafim Seppälä Deacons in Acts of Thomas and Related Early Syriac Literature . . . . 227   1. Some Background Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227   2. Acts of Thomas as Literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228   3. Vocabulary: Alternatives and Solutions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230   4. Servants and Deacons in the Earliest Syriac Literature . . . . . . 232   5. Deacons in Acts of Thomas: The Liturgical Function . . . . . . . 234   6. The Social Role of Deacons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238   7. Social Challenges and Communal Ideals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239   8. Female Deacons in Acts of Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241   9. Deacons in the Teaching of Addai and Acts of Mar Mari . . . . . 242 10. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Anni Maria Laato Tertullian and the Deacons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245  1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245   2. The Clergy and the Laity in Tertullian’s Texts . . . . . . . . . . . 246   3. The Offices and the Officeholders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249   4. What Did the Deacons Do and What Did They Not Do? . . . . 251  5. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 Bart J. Koet Dreaming about Deacons in the Passio Perpetuae . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255   1. Perpetua: Dreaming in Accordance with Scripture . . . . . . . . 256   2. Leadership in Early Christianity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259   3. Ministry in the Passio Perpetuae . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262   4. Dreaming about the Clergy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266   5. Dreaming about the Deacon Pomponius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268   6. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Anssi Voitila Deacons in the Texts Contemporary with the New Testament (Philo of Alexandria and Josephus) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273  1. Philo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274   2. Josephus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280  3. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284

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Appendices Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289 Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291 Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 297 Index of Ancient Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Index of Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321

Introduction

Assessing the Role and Function of an Assistant The Deacon in the First Two Centuries of Christianity Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy and Esko Ryökäs

1. How Important is the Second Leader? Nobel prizewinner Bob Dylan famously sang “the times, they are a-changin.” Those were the days of the sixties, the days of the Cold War. The Iron Curtain was a symbol of that war. But the Wall fell, and Communist parties disappeared as snow under the sun. However, it was not the end of disturbing relations within countries and between nations. Neither did it put an end to severe conflicts. The Arabian spring evolved into a hell of fire, and tensions around the world grew instead of declined. In Europe, there emerged a resentment towards established leaders; in the States, the dissatisfaction with political elites resulted in the election of Trump. One of the common denominators of these changes is that there is a crisis in leadership. Not unexpectedly, there is a lot of attention in the scholarly and business literature on that theme,1 not to mention blogs. There is less attention, however, given to the phenomenon of assistant leadership. What are the roles and responsibilities of the vice-president? How powerful is the vice-dean? Is the civil servant not sometimes more powerful than the chosen leaders? Could it be that this aversion to the power of some civil servants is one of the reasons for the resentment against Brussels (i. e. the EU)? This book focuses on the role and functions of such an assistant leader. However, it is a study of such a figure in the past: the deacon.2 Like assistant leaders of this century, deacons and their roles are often neglected in the scholarly liter-

1  See, for example, The SAGE Handbook of Leadership (eds. Alan Bryman et al.; London: Sage, 2011). 2  We realise that this concept will be understood in a variety of ways, in the context of different countries, languages, and social structures. Instead of beginning with a definition of the role of a deacon, then, we will examine what deacons actually did, which we hope will allow a picture of their ministry to emerge.

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Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy and Esko Ryökäs

ature, for example, in the assessment of leadership in early Christianity.3 There is a lot of discussion about the first leaders of the church,4 an area of study quite influenced by ecclesiastical presuppositions.5 In quite a few Protestant circles, there is a tendency to reject the Catholic, Orthodox, and even Anglican practice of rooting ecclesiastical offices like deacon and bishop in Scripture and early tradition as Frühkatholicismus.6 An example of this is what happened in a meeting of the Society of New Testament Studies. It was a seminar about 1 Clement. Even before the presenter started to talk about 1 Clem.  44, a passage where Clement compares leadership functions with those of Israel, the chairman declared that it, of course, was NOT about ministry and thus the discussion was closed even before it had begun.7 Catholic and Orthodox churches seem to follow Irenaeus of Lyon, who, in a very short reference, appears to refer to Stephen as a deacon.8 However, even in these churches, the diaconate as such is quite often neglected in studies about ministry in the church.9 In the Orthodox churches, deacons remained an inde3  Just one example: the important church historian Peter Brown mistakenly transforms a deacon into a priest. See Bart J. Koet, The Go-Between: Augustine on Deacons (Leiden: Brill, 2019), 1. 4  See, for example, Alexandre Faivre, “La question des ministères à l’époque paléochrétienne. Problématique et enjeux d’une périodisation,” in id., Chrétiens et Églises : des identités en construction : Acteurs, structures, frontières du champ religieux chrétien (Paris: Cerf, 2011), 117–50 and the literature mentioned there. 5  Sven-Erik Brodd (“The Diaconate as Ecumenical Opportunity: Historical Ecclesiological Layers in Understanding the Diaconate,” International Journal for the Study of the Christian Church 13/4 [2014]: 270–85, 278) argues that, while both Lutherans and Anglicans during the Reformations of the sixteenth century understood antiquitas as normative for other historical ages, awareness of this does not seem obvious in the respective traditions: the dominant ideas are inherited from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The lack of critical historical ecclesiological readings of the traditions involved might underlie this. 6  Leander E. Keck, “Faith Seeking Canonical Understanding: Childs’s Guide to the Pauline Letters” in The Bible as Christian Scripture: The Work of Brevard S. Childs (eds. Christopher R. Seitz, and Kent Harold Richards; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013), 103–17, 112. 7  A common argument is that in Acts  6 , the narrative about the Seven, the word diakonos is not used. Even Benedict XVI in the context of his reflection on caritas (for the English translation, see Benedict XVI, Pope, Deus caritas est [2005]; http://w2.vatican.va/content/ benedict-xvi/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_ben-xvi_enc_20051225_deus-caritas-est.html [29.6.­2017]) seems to be cautious about typifying the Seven as deacons (he describes them as “a group of seven persons”; see Deus caritas est, 21). In his first encyclical, he seems to understand the office of the deacon in the early Church as a concrete expression of love. Using Acts  6:5–6, he points out that it was seen as a service to the community and as a religious function. See Deus caritas est, 21–23. 8  He refers to the seven in Acts  6 as deacons. Haer. 3.12.10: “And still further, Stephen who was chosen the first deacon by the apostles.” 9  However, in 2002 Cardinal Ratzinger authorised a text on the diaconate by the Inter­ national Theological Commission: “Commissione teologica internazionale, Il diaconato. Evoluzione e prospettive,” La civiltà cattolica 154 (2003): 253–336. An English translation can be found in International Theological Commission (= ITC), From the Diakonia of Christ to the Diakonia of the Apostles (London: Catholic Truth Society, 2003). This document is a

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pendent ministry, often in relation to the bishop, but later also attached to the presbyter or the parish.10 However, even in the Roman Catholic Church, deacons who were not later ordained into the priesthood existed for much longer than is often assumed.11 For this volume, we asked scholars from different backgrounds to return to the sources with the idea that a fresh look can help to overcome old presuppositions. We think, for example, that it can help our understanding to describe how the different literary sources use the different leadership terms. Thus the question is not whether in a given source, for example, diakonos is an office or not, but rather what the text tells us about what deacons do. In this context, it is possible to observe that often in the early church there is a two-fold leadership structure (for example, 1 Tim  3:1–13).12 However, in order to assess διακονία (diakonia) 13 and deacons in the early church and in our times, it is necessary to give some attention to the fact that current ideas about the tasks and function of the diaconate in the Western world are quite strongly influenced by ideas about diakonia as merely service towards the poor. These grew out of impressive and important initiatives in German-­ speaking countries in the nineteenth century: an attempt to revitalise Christian presentation of historical and theological views on the diaconate. In the conclusion, it is mentioned that the diaconate in the Roman Catholic Church has different forms in different parts of the world and it is stressed that more research is needed. 10  In orthodox traditions, the liturgical function of the deacon gradually became more and more important. Lemma “Deacon” (John Chryssavgis), in The Concise Encyclopedia of Ortho­ dox Christianity (ed. John Anthony McGuckin; Chichester: John Wiley & Blackwell, 2014), 141–42. See also John Chryssavgis, Remembering and Reclaiming Diakonia: The Diaconate Yesterday and Today (Brookline, Mass.: Holy Cross, 2009), 85–89. 11 For example, Alcuin of York (c. 735–804), the minister of Charlemagne, St Francis (1181/1182–1227) and Geert de Grote (1340–1384), a famous Dutch spiritual leader. Right up until the nineteenth century, one can find quite a few cardinal-deacons as members of the papal administration. The last cardinal-deacon who was not a priest, Teodolfo Mertel, died on the 11th of July in 1899 at the age of 93. See Bart J. Koet, “Diakon: Adjutant des Bischofs oder Sprungbrett zur Priestschaft. Randbemerkungen zur jüngsten Studie über Cursus Honorum,” Diaconia Christi 41 (2006): 41–46. 12  A desideratum is to contextualise assistant leadership in the cultural context of early Christianity. A question could be whether the relationship between the episkopos as responsible for teaching in relation to the diakonos is comparable to the Jewish rabbi and his disciple/ assistant. An indication that such a comparison could be worthwhile is the fact that the ­semantic field of serving is also present in the relation between a rabbi and his disciples. For discussion, see Günther Stemberger, “‘Schaff die einen Lehrer, erwirb dir einen Kollegen’ (mAv 1,6) – Lernen als Tradition und Gemeinschaft,” in Beate Ego & Helmut Merkel, Reli­ giöses Lernen in der biblischen frühjüdischen und frühchristlichen Űberlieferung (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 141–55, especially 144–52 (“Einem Meister dienen”). 13  In some of the articles the word “diaconia” is used. Sven-Erik Brodd describes the use of the word “diakonia” in English as influenced by German-speaking tradition, not as a common word. Sven-Erik Brodd, “Caritas and Diakonia as perspectives on the Diaconate,” in The Ministry of the Deacon: 2 Ecclesiological Explorations (eds. Gunnel Borgegård et al.; Uppsala: Nordic Ecumenical Council, 2000), 26–27.

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social and caritative works, using an interpretation of the Acts of the Apostles as an inspiration and a model. This background will be sketched in the next section.

2. Deacons and Deaconesses in the Twenty-First Century: Differences and Common Roots? Even the reintroduction of the diaconate as an independent ministry in the Roman Catholic Church did not result in a scrupulous and intensive study of this ancient function in the community of Jesus’ disciples.14 Referring to sources from the early Church, the Second Vatican Council reopened the possibility of a permanent diaconate in the Catholic Church. After fifty years of reinstatement, there exist tens of thousands of permanent deacons in many local churches, but there are also quite a few variations between the vision of the diaconate in ­Roman Catholic dioceses and the view of the tasks of a deacon in a given community.15 While in the orthodox churches a deacon, albeit with different accents, remained a visible figure and within the Roman Catholic Church he reappeared, the diaconate is also considered as part of ecumenical dialogues. One of the most important ecumenical documents, the so-called Lima Report, Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry (BEM) explicitly mentions the deacon as one of the ­ministries of the churches.16 It even suggests that the threefold ministry of 14  It is remarkable that historical surveys in earlier literature are more complete than current studies on the diaconate, despite some limitations of sources and method. See, for example, Johann Nepomuk Seidl, Der Diakonat in der katholischen Kirche, dessen hieratische Würde und geschichtliche Entwicklung: eine kirchenrechts-geschichtliche Abhandlung (Regensburg, 1884). A first attempt in the last century to assess the figure of the deacon in several contexts is Diaconia in Christo: Über die Erneuerung des Diakonates (eds. Karl Rahner and Herbert Vorgrimler; Freiburg: Herder, 1962). Although this publication was primarily intended to stimulate the debate in the Roman Catholic Church, it was heavily influenced by German Evangelical and Lutheran ideas about diakonia as service to the poor. 15  Gregory R. Ollick, “A Ministry in Search of a Mission,” National Catholic Reporter (January 29, 2016). According to an analysis by Montserrat Martinez Deschamps, a board member of the organization of permanent deacons, International Diaconate Centre (IDC): “Even today, 50 years after the Council and the reinstatement of the diaconate of the permanent rank, there is a huge lack of information in many communities regarding the nature of the diaconate.” “Marriage and Diaconate, a Unique and Enriching Relationship,” Diaconia Christi 51 (2016): 168–76, here 171–72. 16  Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry (Faith and Order Paper No. 111; Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1982): “Chapter III. The Forms of the Ordained Ministry. A. Bishops, Presbyters and Deacons”, 19. The New Testament does not describe a single pattern of ministry which might serve as a blueprint or continuing norm for all future ministry in the Church. In the New Testament there appears rather a variety of forms which existed at different places and times. As the Holy Spirit continued to lead the Church in life, worship and mission, certain elements from this early variety were further developed and became settled into a more

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­ ishop, presbyter, and deacon may serve today as an expression of the unity b which the churches seek.17 In several churches there has been an attempt to ­follow that advice. One example is the Lutheran Church of Sweden where, since 2000, the church ordinal sees three orders on the same level in the ministry (bishop, priest, deacon), 18 even if the ministry is seldom characterised as a threefold ministry.19 This kind of understanding of the church ministry is recommended for all of the churches in ecumenical documents.20 Regardless, progress has not been easy. This is exemplified by the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland: the role of a deacon has been present in church legislation since 1913, but since 1959 there has been a vigorous but incomplete discussion to change the understanding of the ministry from a lay function to an ordained one.21 An essential background to the discussion of deacons and deaconesses is the revolutionary change in the evangelical tradition over time. In the middle of the 19th century, a lay ministry of helping the poor, widows, orphans, sick, disabled, and others in need was combined with diaconal language.22 This method of universal pattern of ministry. During the second and third centuries, a threefold pattern of bishop, presbyter and deacon became established as the pattern of ordained ministry throughout the Church. In succeeding centuries, the ministry by bishop, presbyter and deacon underwent considerable changes in its practical exercise. At some points of crisis in the history of the Church, the continuing functions of ministry were in some places and communities distributed according to structures other than the predominant threefold pattern. Sometimes appeal was made to the New Testament in justification of these other patterns. In other cases, the restructuring of ministry was held to lie within the competence of the Church as it adapted to changed circumstances.” 17  Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, §  2 2: “Although there is no single New Testament pattern, although the Spirit has many times led the Church to adapt its ministries to contextual needs, and although other forms of the ordained ministry have been blessed with the gifts of the Holy Spirit, nevertheless the threefold ministry of bishop, presbyter and deacon may serve today as an expression of the unity we seek and also as a means for achieving it.” 18  The Church Ordinal (1999) “defines that ordination to all three orders, bishop, priest and deacon are not hierarchically ordered, but are charges emerging from the gospels with equal value.” Tiit Pädam, Ordination of Deacons in the Churches of the Porvoo Communion: A Comparative Investigation in Ecclesiology (Uppsala/Tallinn: Kirjastus TP, 2011), 59. In the church’s legislation, those three orders are described as on the same level: “Vigningarna till biskop, präst och diakon är likvärdiga uttryck för evangeliets fullhet och kyrkans sändning utifrån evangeliet.” Kyrkoordning 2017-01-01, 25 kap., Inledning. 19  Annette Leis (Den kyrkliga diakonins roll inom ramen för två välfärdssystem. [Uppsala: Diakonivetenskapliga institutet, 2004], 19), sees the ministry as threefold. See also Biskop, präst och diakon i svenska kyrkan. Ett biskopsbrev om kyrkans ämbete. (Biskopsmötet; Uppsala: Ärkebiskopsämbetet, 1990). 20  Annette Noller, Diakonat und Kirchenreform: Empirische, historische und ekklesiologische Dimensionen einer diakonischen Kirche (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2016), 391–93. 21  Terttu Pohjolainen, “The Deacon in the Evangelical-Lutheran Church of Finland,” in The Ministry of the Deacon: 1 Anglican-Lutheran perspectives (eds. Gunnel Borgegård and Christine Hall; Uppsala: Nordic Ecumenical Council, 1999), 141–80. More specifically: ­M ikko Malkavaara, Diakonia ja diakonivirka (Helsinki: Kirkkohallitus, 2015), 132. 22  For an overview of the discussion in light of the important Lutheran tradition of the

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caritative helping spread primarily from the Kaiserswerth diaconal community inspired by Theodor Fliedner. It was particularly successful among women, quite a few of whom became deaconesses and were active, for example, in deaconesses’ hospitals.23 This caritative way of understanding the duties of a deacon was largely based on John Calvin’s discussion of the New Testament, 24 which Fliedner was trying to combine with patristic examples. Some prominent developers of the diaconal movement, like Johan Hinrich Wichern, and Wilhelm Löhe, did not identify this caritative role of a deacon 25 with the New Testament era.26 Despite that, the lay function of deacons and deaconesses in the evangelical churches was commonly understood in the late 19th and 20th centuries as following the model of the early Church. Later, towards the end of the 20th century this understanding also influenced the Catholic understanding of the ministry in a more caritative direction.27 Those German Catholic theologians who promoted the diaconate and, to a certain extent, also presented themselves as founding fathers of the reemerged diaconate like Karl Rahner and his assistant Herbert Vorgrimler, 28 priesthood of all believers, see Eberhard Hausschildt, “Allgemeines Priestertum und ordiniertes Amt, Ehrenamtliche und Berufstätige. Ein Vorschlag zur Strukturierung verwickelter Debatten,” Pastoraltheologie 102 (2013): 388–407. For discussion about the positions of deacons and deaconesses in the Diakonie-movements, see 390–91 (19th century) and 400–402. Further: Sven-Erik Brodd, “An Escalating Phenomenon. The Diaconate from an Ecumenical perspective,” in Borgegård and Hall, The Ministry of the Deacon: 1, 11–50. For the fact that deacons in most ecclesiastical traditions were not responsible for caritative work, see Esko Ryökäs, “‘Diakonia’ ennen diakoniaa. Diakoniakäsite eurooppalaisissa yleistietosanakirjoissa,” Diakonian tutkimus 1 (2014): 32–49. 23  See for example Noller, Diakonat und Kirchenreform. 24  “[…] duo erunt genera Diaconorum: quorum alteri in rebus pauperum administrandis, alteri in pauberibus ipsis curandis Ecclesiae feruient.” Jean Calvin, Institutio christianae religionis (Genevae 1559), 439; Kari Latvus, “Diaconal Ministry in the Light of the Reception and Re-Interpretation of Acts  6 , Did John Calvin Create the Social-Caritative Ministry of Diaconia?,” Diaconia: Journal for the Study of Christian Social Practice 1 (2010): 82–102. 25  Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, 24 (31) states: Deacons “exercise a ministry of love within the community.” 26  Wilhelm Löhe, Gesammelte Werke: Vierter Band (Neuendettelsau: Freimund-Verlag, 1962), 519: II Für die Diakonissen, Von der Barmherzigkeit, Siebentes Kapitel: “Wir reden hier […] nicht von der Diakonissin überhaupt, sondern von der des 19. Jahrhunderts. […] so müssen wir doch auch andererseits bekennen, dass die Diakonissin des 19. Jahrhunderts eine andere ist als die der alten Kirche.”; Johann Hinrich Wichern, “Diakonen- und Diakonissenhäuser,” in Real-Encyklopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche: Dritter Band, Comenius bis Eucyklische Briefe (ed. Dr. Herzog; Stuttgart: Rudolf Besser, 1855), 369–84. 370: “Es mag dabei nicht verhehlt werden, dass die Berechtigung des Namens [Diakon, Diakonisse] mit Grund zu bezweifeln ist […],” “Der Name Brüderhäuser statt der Diakonenanstalten ist übrigens wirklich der gebräuchlichere […].” 27  John N. Collins, Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 52–53. 28  Another advocate of restoring the diaconate as an independent ministry was the Dutch missionary and bishop, Willem van Bekkum (1910–1998; bishop of Ruteng, Indonesia). He spoke at the First International Conference on Pastoral Liturgy (1956; Assisi, Italy). This is

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promoted the idea that the deacon should be the social face of the church.29 Vorgrimler was so disappointed about the fact that Catholic deacons were often also attuned to liturgical services that in his older age he wrote in a sour – and even unfair – way about them.30 While Karl Marx responded to the poverty accompanying the industrial ­revolution by writing Das Kapital, Fliedner responded by creating the movement for deaconesses. This brought many blessings in Germany and elsewhere in Europe. However, the founder of the evangelical Mutterhaus (Motherhouse) system and the father of the deaconess movement based his ideas about diakonia on a particular interpretation of Acts  6 and the patristic material. It must be noted, however, that a rigorous examination of these source references has shown that only a minority of them are correct and that the literary basis of his ideas is therefore small. Most caritative tasks don’t have any references at all.31 This reading back into the patristic material of diakonia as an especially ­caritative task is still quite common, as is clear from the extensive article of Paul Philippi in the Theologische Realenzyklopädie.32 What he writes about the bishops and widows is very precise, but the tasks of a deacon are described as more caritative than the sources support.33 In an analysis of three modern presentations34 of the history of diakonia, Kari Latvus shows results like those described above.35 In these studies, charity, love, and care for the poor in the early church are well documented. On the other hand, evidence for the caritative role of summarised in William T. Ditewig, “The Dachau Experience and Postwar developments,” in The Deacon Reader (ed. James Keating; Mahwah: Paulist, 2006), 31–55, esp.  32–33. 29  We cannot discuss these views here, except to say that in the early Church, the bishop, as pater pauperum, was responsible for the social activities of the community. 30  See Herbert Vorgrimler, “Liturgie, Diakonie und Diakone,” in Benedikt Kranemann et al., Die diakonale Dimension der Liturgie (QD 218; Freiburg: Herder, 2006), 236–45, esp.  237; but see Bart J. Koet, “Diakonie ist nicht nur Armenfürsorge. Neuere exegetische Erkenntnisse zum Verständnis von Diakonie,” in Lernen wäre eine schöne Alternative. Religionsunterricht in theologischer und erziehungswissenschaftlicher Verantwortung (eds. Christoph Gramzow, Heide Liebold and Martin Sander-Gaiser; FS Helmut Hanisch: Leipzig: Evangelische Verlag-Anstalt, 2008), 303–18. 31 Esko Ryökäs, “Zur Begründung der Diakonie bei Theodor Fliedner, Anmerkungen zum ‚Gutachten, die Diakonie und den Diakonat betreffend,’” in Diakonische Einblicke: DWI-Jahrbuch Bd. 41 (ed. Christian Oelschlägel; Heidelberg: Diakoniewissenschaftliches Institut, 2011), 49–71. 32  Paul Philippi, “Diakonie I,” TRE 8:621–44. 33  For this, see Esko Ryökäs, “Diaconia – A Make-Believe Which Continues?” Diaconia: Journal for the Study of Christian Social Practice 6 (2015): 61–74. 34  Gottfried Hammann, Die Geschichte der christlichen Diakonie: Praktizierte Nächstenliebe von der Antike bis zur Reformationszeit (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003); James Monroe Barnett, The Diaconate: A Full and Equal Order (rev. ed.; Harrisburg: The Trinity Press, 1995); and Jeannine E. Olson, Deacons and Deaconesses through the Centuries (rev. ed.; Saint Louis: Concordia, 2003). 35  Kari Latvus, “The Conventional Theory about the Origin of Diaconia, An Analysis of Arguments,” Diaconia: Journal for the Study of Christian Social Practice 2 (2011): 194–209.

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­ eacons is lacking in the primary sources, but still supported by the authors. d The contemporary theory has obviously resulted in a misinterpretation of the sources. And thus a question emerges: what did deacons do? To find an answer to this question it is worthwhile to step back and assess possible biblical backgrounds to diakonia.

3. The Need for Further Research Due to New Philological Ideas In recent years, some scholars have focused on particular aspects of the diaconate. Thus studies have appeared on the position of the diaconate in the cursus honorum as well as quite a few on issues relating to deaconesses.36 Philological research has also taken place on the importance of the word diakonia and related expressions in classical Greek and New Testament Greek, such as in LukeActs and Paul’s letters. One of the first scholars who noted difficulties in the translation of the Greek “diakonia” words with “serving” words was the German New Testament scholar and classicist Dieter Georgi.37 More or less in line with his critical remarks, but dealing with the word diakonia in the broader context, the Australian John Collins showed that understanding diakonia as referring only to lowly service is not compatible with the Greek of Hellenistic and Christian sources.38 Collins thereby challenged the consensus, demonstrating that the Greek word diakonia originally had nothing to do with charitable work. Diakonia instead refers to an activity carried out by order or on behalf of another person that can often describe a work of mediation. A deacon was not a humble servant or assistant but rather something like a messenger or intermediary. According to him, a deacon was one of the leaders of the local community, working in his or her ministry as a go-between, communicating both between individual members and other ministers, and between separate communities. Deacons had significant roles in the liturgy and could also have had special responsibility for money. In her 2007 German dissertation, Anni Hentschel large36  See, for example, John St. H. Gibaut, The Cursus Honorum: A Study of Origins and Evolution of Sequential Ordination (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000) and Ordained Women in the Early Church: A Documentary History (eds. Kevin Madigan and Carolyn Osiek; Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005). 37  For the assessment of 2 Cor  2:14–7:4 and 10–13, see Dieter Georgi, The Opponents of Paul in Second Corinthians: A Study on Religious Propaganda in Late Antiquity (English translation and greatly expanded edition of the German original 1964; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986). See Stefan Dietzel, “Zur Entstehung des Diakonats im Urchristentum, Eine Auseinandersetzung mit den Positionen von Wilhelm Brandt, Hermann Wolfgang Beyer und John N. Collins,” Diakoni­sche Konturen: Theologie im Kontext sozialer Arbeit (eds. Volker Herrmann, Rainer Merz and Heinz Schmidt; Heidelberg: Winter, 2003), 136–70, 154. 38  John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990). For a summary of his thesis, see the article by Bart J. Koet regarding Acts  6 in this volume.

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ly agreed with Collins, seeking to show that the word diakonia is also used in the New Testament for different sorts of commissioning by God, Jesus, or the Christian communities.39 By way of exception, it can also refer to a mandate to engage in charitable activities, as in Acts  6:1–6. Often, however, it refers to presiding over a community and to the proclamation of the gospel. Therefore, ­diakonia can also mean tasks related to authority and reputation, not just secondary services. The theses of Collins and Hentschel concerning diakonia during the New Testament era have undoubtedly impacted our understanding of the tasks and role of a deacon. This has already been shown in how dictionaries define the word “deacon,”40 and has prompted further reflection on the consequences of these reassessments.41 These have not been limited to philological studies on the figure of the deacon and the meaning of related diakon-words, however.42 A field which has also been extensively assessed is that of the deaconess – not 39  Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien zur Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007). 40  For example, Religion Past and Present (4 th edition), Lemma “Diaconate/Deacon/Deaconess” / “1. New Testament” is based on Collins’ thesis. 41 Hans-Jürgen Benedict, “Beruht der Anspruch der evangelischen Diakonie auf einer Mißinterpretation der antiken Quellen?; John N. Collins Untersuchung ‘Diakonia’” Pastoral­ theologie 89 (2000): 343–64; Articles by Hans-Jürgen Benedict (127–35), Stefan Dietzel (136– 70) and Ismo Dunderberg (171–83) in Diakonische Konturen; Paula Gooder, “Diakonia in the New Testament: A Dialogue with John N. Collins,” Ecclesiology 3 (2006): 33–56; Eberhardt Hauschildt, “Was bedeuten exegetische Erkenntnisse über den Begriff der Diakonie für die Diakonie heute? Eine historische und hermeneutische Skizze,” Pastoraltheologie 97 (2008): 307–14; Kari Latvus, “The Paradigm Challenged. A New Analysis of the Origin of Diakonia,” Studia Theologica – Nordic Journal of Theology 62 (2008): 142–57; Anni Hentschel, “Gibt es einen sozial-karitativ ausgerichteten Diakonat in den frühchristlichen Gemeinden?,” Pastoraltheologie 97 (2008): 290–306; Bart J. Koet, “Whatever became of the Diaconia of the Word,” New Diaconal Review 1 (2008): 22–31; Paul Avis, “Wrestling with the Diaconate,” Ecclesiology 5 (2009): 3–6; Bart J. Koet, “Le diacre «évangéliste». Un diptyque sur le diaconat,” Communio Revue Catholique Internationale 34 (2009): 3+4, 22–34; Bettina Eltrop, “Biblische Grundlagen zum Diakonat, ” in Ortsbestimmungen: der Diakonat als kirchlicher Dienst (eds. Richard Hartman, Franz Reger and Stefan Sander; Frankfurt am Main: Knecht-Verlag, 2009), 91–99; Bart J. Koet, “Exegetische kanttekeningen over diakonia in het Nieuwe Testament – Leren of doen?,” in Diaconie in beweging: Handboek Diaconiewetenschap (eds. Hub Crijns et al.; Kampen: Kok, 2011), 69–96; Anni Hentschel, Gemeinde, Ämter, Dienste – Perspektiven zur neutestamentlichen Ekklesiologie (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2013); Collins, ­D iakonia Studies, 41–53; Ryökäs, “Diakonia – A Make-Believe which Continues?” 42  However, studies about the diaconate often assume too easily that Acts  6 is a story about diakonia as service to the poor. See Alexandre Faivre, “‘Diakonos’ L’Histoire d’un Idéal, Le Pouvoir de servire. Panorama et problématiques à l’époque paléochrétienne,” Chrétiens et Églises, 183–209. Faivre postulates on the one hand, a large gap between the data from the New Testament and those of the later period (123–27, esp.  124), yet on the other, believes that Luke saw the diaconate as more directed towards material service and that it was Ignatius who rejected this (see 186 and 189). Although Faivre is thus one of the authors who reads too much material service into Acts, he does show the different aspects of the diaconate in early Christianity.

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unexpectedly, given discussions about the role of women in society, and thus in the church.43 An impressive dossier of references to deaconesses has been assembled by Kevin Madigan and Carolyn Osiek.44 They rigorously examined every text from the patristic period, including books, letters, papyri, and grave inscriptions, thereby illustrating the manifold existence of female deacons and deaconesses. Many of these sources had previously been under-utilised or tendentiously labelled in theological discussions. This collection of texts shows what could be helpful in enabling future research into female deacons. 45 Some important questions relating to the diaconate have, however, not been answered. For example, we lack a thorough review of the specific tasks and functions of the male deacon in the early church. What was their function in liturgy? What was their function in the religious community? How did the deacon function as a teacher? The International Theological Commission made an inventory of these questions and recommended further research as well as further evaluation of the experience of the restored permanent diaconate in the Catholic Church. These new studies and the lack of an overview of the early Church were the reason that, in 2009, the Pontifical University Patristic Institute Augustinianum, together with two professors of the Tilburg School of Theology, organised an international conference. The topic was the meaning of the Greek word diakonia, the diaconiae as centres of caritas in Rome, and ­deacons and deaconesses. In the proceedings published in 2010, Collins’ thesis concerning diakonia was discussed, but there was no deep engagement with what new light these philological investigations could shine on patristic views of deacons.46 It therefore stands as a preliminary investigation of the topic.

43 Aimé-Georges Martimort, Les diaconesses, Essai historique (Roma: Edizioni Liturgiche, 1982). Dorothea Reininger, Diakonat der Frau in der Einen Kirche: Diskussionen, Entscheidungen und pastoral-praktische Erfahrungen in der christlichen Ökumene und ihr Beitrag zur römisch-katholischen Diskussion (Ostfildern: Schwabenverlag, 1999); Moria Scimmi, Le antiche diaconesse nella storiografia del XX secolo (Milano: Glossa, 2004). 44  Madigan and Osiek, Ordained Women. 45  Madigan and Osiek, Ordained Women, 4–5, rightly alert us to some methodological problems. There is a possible discrepancy between ancient and modern concepts of ordained ministry as well as chronological and geographical variations. They argue that scholars have to keep in mind the differences between three aspects of leadership which affected women: ordination, membership in the clergy, and special group status. These are also relevant for our understanding of male deacons. 46  Diakonia, Diaconiae, Diaconato: Semantica e storia nei Padri della Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9 maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Roma: Augustinianum, 2010). The philological thesis of Collins is referred to in nine of the articles.

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4. The Aim of This Collection The conference in Rome was a first attempt to assess the meaning of diakonia and the role of deacons in the early Church.47 In this collection, we aimed for a more systematic approach, covering all the major references to deacons in the first two centuries. This has not been fully realised: an important source such as Job’s Testament, in which diakonia is associated with distribution of food among hungry aliens, is not treated, nor is Epictetus’ stoic understanding of diakonos.48 There is no assessment of inscriptions,49 nor is the reference to Eleutherus in a fragment of Hegesippus discussed, although we mention it here as another example of a deacon as an assistant to the bishop.50 Still, the treatment is fairly comprehensive: we have supplemented the papers presented at the conference held at the University of Eastern Finland and those commissioned by the editors with two articles previously published in the proceedings from Rome, as well as a few recently published articles, in order to present a cohesive overview.51 Given the importance of this project for ecumenical dialogue, we have sought contributors from a range of confessional backgrounds. There is also diversity in the nationalities and disciplines represented, as well as a mix of seasoned scholars and more junior researchers. The articles give particular insight into the complex world of the first centuries of Christianity, especially its leadership. Because it focuses on deacons in their context, it brings a new aspect of this world to the fore – assistant leadership – which is also relevant to those holding such positions in the church today. Given the significance of this work, we are committed to continuing it through biennial conferences, and envisage that these will also result in printed volumes.52 47  Bart J. Koet, “International conference on the sources of the diaconate: how it came about and how it turned out: a first report,” Diaconia Christi 44 (2009): 124–28. Another, smaller, conference was in Joensuu September 2015 with the theme: What did deacons do? Theological foundations of deacons’ work and their practical applications. 48  See Georgi, Opponents, 27–29; Collins, Diakonia, 171–175; Dunderberg in Diakonische Konturen, 178–179; Chiara Della Putta, “La nozione de διακονια nelle Diatribe di Epitteto,” Diakonia, Diaconiae, Diaconato, 87–96. 49  However, one can find in Diaconia, Diaconiae, Diaconato, 453/612, some articles dealing with epigraphical and archeological material. 50 Eusebius Hist. Eccl. IV, 30; See only the assessment in Paul August Leder, Die Diakonen der Bischöfe und Presbyter und ihre urchristlichen Vorläufer: Untersuchungen über die Vor­ geschichte und die Anfänge des Archidiakonats (Stuttgart: Ferdinand Enke, 1905), 153 n.  1. In the writings of Eusebius one can also find a reference to another deacon of the second century: Sanctus, deacon and martyr in Lyon (Hist. Eccl. V,1). For Polycarp about deacons, see Collins, Diakonia, 241–42. 51  Our particular thanks to John N. Collins for providing the chapter on Clement of Alexandria at short notice. 52  The most recent conference was held in September, 2017 in Joensuu, Finland.

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Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy and Esko Ryökäs

5. New Life from Old Texts The role and tasks of deacons in the early Church could be forgotten if they didn’t have any importance for today. But their ministry remains the subject of discussion in many denominations and also has significance for the Church more broadly. The path to understanding and unity goes – at least partly – through the common roots of the Christian life. As yet, there is no consensus on the role of a deacon, as shown in the Porvoo Agreement.53 In ecumenical discussions between churches, it has mostly been discussed in combination with questions about the ministry of bishops and presbyters/priests.54 As the Anglo-Nordic Diaconia Research Project (ANDREP) has shown,55 the renewed understanding of the ministry of a deacon must impact discussions of the other central ministries of a church. This is confirmed by developments in the Lutheran Church of Sweden: the findings of Collins and others seem to have caused a deep reassessment of ministry and thus of leadership.56 Not only is the structure of the church ministry under consideration, but also the specific tasks of contemporary deacons. We believe that one of the best ways forward is to go back – back to our earliest sources. In this volume, we examine references to deacons in the first two centuries and ask: What did they do? In doing so, further questions come to the fore: To what extent were deacons assistants? To what extent were they leaders in their own right? What was the scope of their activities? We hope that the answers to these questions will contribute to current discussions on the role of deacons and deaconesses as part of the leadership of denominations and of the Church as a whole. We would therefore like to thank Mohr Siebeck, particularly Jörg Frey and Henning Ziebritzki, for supporting the publication of this ­volume.

53  The Porvoo Common Statement (London: Council for Christian Unity of the General Synod of the Church of England, 1993). 54  The most important ecumenical document on this topic, the Lima Report, interprets the whole concept of ministry categories from service-discussion. Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, 7 b. 55  The Porvoo Agreement, between mostly Nordic Lutheran and Anglican Churches, noted that a separate analysis was needed on deacons. In the two volumes of ANDREP the thesis of Collins was strongly used. See Borgegård and Hall, The Ministry of the Deacon: 1, but also The Ministry of the Deacon: 2 Ecclesiological Explorations (eds. Gunnel Borgegård, Olav Fanuelsen and Christine Hall; Uppsala: Nordic Ecumenical Council, 2000). 56  A Bishop’s Letter about Diaconia (Bishops’ Conference 2015; Uppsala, 2015), especially 78–81, 86: https://www.svenskakyrkan.se/default.aspx?id=1479690 (13.5.2017).

Biblical Sources

Exegetical Notes on Mark 10:42–45 Who Serves Whom? Peter-Ben Smit

1. Introduction The aim of this essay is to offer some marginal exegetical notes on Mark 10:42– 45, concerning the precise relationship of service and authority that the text entails. Particular attention will also be given to the question of who is a διάκονος to whom in this text. The essay is focused on furthering the discussion about diakonia as it has been fueled by the exegetical insights of Collins and Hentschel in particular, which the author thinks to be convincing at large; interaction with secondary literature will, therefore, concentrate on that part of the discourse. Its main characteristics will be outlined first, next a number of narrative and contextual observations will be offered that prepare and lead to a discussion of the question “who is a διάκονος to whom” in this pericope.

2. From the Old to the New Consensus The work of John Collins,1 followed by that of Anni Hentschel,2 has, as it is well known by now, led to a veritable paradigm shift in the interpretation of “διακονέω/διακονία” in early Christianity, including the New Testament.3 From a paradigm in which lowly, usually charitable service, such as performed by someone waiting at the table (see Acts  6 , John 13), was the point of departure 1 John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990). 2 Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007); Hentschel rightly points to Dieter Georgi, Die Gegner des Paulus im 2. Korintherbrief (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1964), 32–38, as an early instance of expanding the meaning of διάκονος in relation to acting as emissary. 3  See also, for example, Bart J. Koet, The Go-Between: Augustine on Deacons (Leiden: Brill, 2019), for an impression of the shifts that the new paradigm provokes in the study of early Christianity at large, in this case in Augustinian studies.

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for the interpretation of this notion, new lexicographical research and research into the use of the term in the Greco-Roman world at large has led to a new paradigm. In this framework, the idea that a “διάκονος” is someone executing a task on behalf of someone else, having been sent by this person, is key. This has had at least two effects: (1) a broader spectrum of early Christian ministries can now be understood as being more than just charitable or lowly, but rather as ministries exercised under the commission of Christ; (2) the “lowly” character has been relativised. Both of these effects also have consequences for the conceptualization of the “diaconate” both ancient and modern. This shift in interpretative paradigm has also had its impact on the inter­ pretation of Mark 10:42–45.4 It has moved from being a paradigm of humble service, indeed, an instance of “servant leadership.” From the point of view of Hentschel, it now purports to indicate something quite different: In der Sendung Jesu in die Welt, die seinen Tod am Kreuz aus Liebe für die Menschen einschließt, offenbart sich in aller Tiefe die Liebe Gottes. Gemäß Mark 10,45 ist – Christus als Beauftragter (diakonos) Gottes nicht gekommen, um Aufträge zu erteilen – wie es einem Boten Gottes nach antiken Vorstellungen durchaus zustehen würde – , sondern um selbst (s)einen Auftrag im Namen Gottes auszuführen und sein Leben als Lösegeld für viele zu geben. In der Treue zu Gott und in der pflichtgemäßen Ausführung des Willens Gottes wird Jesus zum Vorbild für alle, die ihm nachfolgen. Insbesondere die, welche Leitungsaufgaben innehaben, sollen sich bewusst sein, dass sie in der christlichen Gemeinschaft nicht-autonom-Herrschende sind, sondern selbst im Auftrag eines Höhergestellten stehen (vgl. Mk 10,42–44 par Lk 22,24–26), so dass nicht der persönliche Status oder die eigene Autorität legitimes Ziel sein können, sondern nur die Loyalität gegenüber Gott als dem eigentlichen Herrn der Gemeinde.5

Collins has also emphasised that the point of Mark 10:45 is not so much the lowly character of the Son of Man’s behaviour, but rather its content in terms of executing his charge by laying down his life as a ransom for many – this is where he derives his ultimate dignity and value from, not from having many διάκονοι at his own disposal. He again states this in his Diakonia (1990),6 and reiterates it in Diakonia Studies (2014), summing up the point of the Markan pericope as follows: All the sayings [in Mark 10:42–45] are teaching disciples that in accepting a place in the kingdom, members of the community are to abandon processes by which societies ­operate. Instead they are to stand in relationships with God and with one another in a community of discipleship. The sayings are not a call to abstain from the management of affairs or to eschew the responsibility of authority. They are a call, however, to recognize that the management of affairs and the deployment of authority are activities of this 4  See, for example, the overview provided by John N. Collins, Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 3–20. 5  Anni Hentschel, “Dienen/Diener (NT),” http://www.bibelwissenschaft.de/stichwort/47 853/ (30.11.2016). 6 Collins, Diakonia, 251–52.

Exegetical Notes on Mark 10:42–45

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world, whereas the kingdom of God establishes itself in a community of relationships. The community will no longer provide communion when power distorts the dynamism of relationships.7

The main interpretative shift in comparison with earlier interpretations, as ­surveyed by Hentschel and Collins, 8 is that it is not so much the exemplary humility of the Son of Man that is deduced from his acting as διάκονος, but rather his exemplary execution of his duties, ultimately consisting of laying down his life as a ransom. One issue that seems to be assumed rather than argued at length in all of this is that those acting on behalf of others act (directly) on behalf of God. This is, however, not necessarily the most plausible interpretation. In fact, following on a number of narrative and contextual observations, it will be argued that it is more likely that the “acting on behalf of” happens primarily in relation to the community.

3. Narrative and Contextual Observations At this point, some observations on the narrative context of Mark 10:42–45 and the occurrence of some of the motifs in the text in the broader Greco-Roman world (including the Jewish colonised subculture) are in order. First, the section of Mark that Mark 10:42–45 is usually seen to be part of is significant. The broader section is 8:22–10:52, containing three passion predictions: in 8:31; 9:31 (with a striking parallel to 10:43–44 in 9:35 and to 10:45 in 9:31); and finally in the section that runs from Mark 10:32–45 (prediction in vv. 33–34).9 This section is separated from its immediate narrative context by means of two changes of place in vv. 32 and 46 that are accompanied by a change of theme. As indicated also by the layout of NA28, this pericope can itself be subdivided into three sections, one dealing with a passion prediction (vv. 32– 34), one with the request of James and John (vv. 35–40), and one dealing with Jesus’ concluding teaching (vv. 41–45). The three sections are interconnected in various ways, notably through the topic of death and martyrdom. For the purposes of this essay, beyond the broader context that is permeated by the passion predictions, one particular aspect of this is relevant. It is the connection between the passion prediction in v. 33 (ἰδοὺ ἀναβαίνομεν εἰς Ἱεροσόλυμα, καὶ ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου παραδοθήσεται τοῖς ἀρχιερεῦσιν καὶ τοῖς γραμματεῦσιν καὶ κατακρινοῦσιν αὐτὸν θανάτῳ καὶ παραδώσουσιν αὐτὸν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν) and Jesus’ 7 

See Collins, Diakonia Studies, 89. See Collins, Diakonia, 46–62; Hentschel, Diakonia, 11–24. 9  See Mark E. Moore, Kenotic Politics: The Reconfiguration of Power in Jesus’ Political Praxis (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 63. On the structure see also John R. Donahue and Daniel J. Harrington, The Gospel of Mark (SP 2; Collegeville: Liturgical, 2005), 314; Craig A. Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20 (Waco: Word, 2015), 113–14 (on the relation to the passion predictions: 115–16). 8 

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saying about the Son of Man in v. 45 (ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου οὐκ ἦλθεν διακονηθῆναι ἀλλὰ διακονῆσαι καὶ δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν). The point is twofold: (1) In both texts the (impending) death of the Son of Man is mentioned; this connects the two texts. (2) The two verses are quite distinct when it comes to describing the manner of this death. In v. 31, Mark uses passive tenses whenever the “Son of Man” is the subject of a verb and when others are the subject,10 he is rather emphatically the object of their actions.11 In v. 45, the reverse is the case, here the Son of Man is the subject of all the verbs and each indicates an action on his part, his death is even his laying down of his life. He even acts on behalf of many in the later verse – in v. 33 the Son of Man ends up as the possession of the peoples (“Gentiles”). Within the scope of a few verses two totally different representations of the Son of Man’s, i. e. Jesus’, death are presented. The proximity of v. 33 to v. 45 will prove to be of interpretative significance later on. Second, it can be observed concerning the narrative leading into Jesus’ teaching that here the question of the two Zebedean brothers, which refers to a future (eschatological) glorious rule of Jesus (v. 37),12 be it earthly or heavenly, in which they wish to take part prominently, is answered by Jesus by shifting the focus 10  Heinrich Baarlink, “Jesu Leben, ‘ein Lösegeld für viele’ (Markus 10,45),” in idem, Verkündigtes Heil: Studien zu den synoptischen Evangelien (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 109, elects to see the use of passiva divina here. It has disastrous exegetical results, as is usually the case when this concept is employed. In Baarlink’s case, the effect is to marginalise any suggestion of human agency and to turn the entire statement of v. 31 into one about God’s own offering up of the Son of Man. The beauty of the use of an agentless passive is precisely that room is given to multiple possible agents, without being clear as to who is ultimately in view. Certainly, 8:31 suggests a divine necessity (δεῖ), but the entire Markan narrative, even the expressions used in 9:31, also indicate human agency. On the (largely fictitious nature of the) passivum divinum, see Peter-Ben Smit and Toon Renssen, “The passivum divinum: The Rise and Future Fall of an Imaginary Linguistic Phenomenon,” in Filología Neotestamentaria 47 (2015): 3–24; Knut Backhaus, “‘Lösepreis für viele’ (Mark 10,45). Zur Heilsbedeutung des Todes Jesu bei Markus,” in Der Evangelist als Theologe: Studien zum Markusevangelium (ed. Thomas Söding; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1995), 91–118 (100–101), also uses the notion of the passivum divinum and sees a shift in agency in the Gospel of Mark, from God’s “dahingeben” of the Son of Man to Jesus’ giving of himself. It is a beautiful theological image, but the sequentiality hinges on seeing a passivum divinum in three instances (9:31; 10:33; 14:41). It would be preferable to do away with the use of this concept and to speak of a coinciding of divine commissioning and sending of the Son of Man and the Son of Man’s active execution of this commission. The one who is sent to give himself up indeed gives himself up. 11  Should Isa 53:12 LXX indeed be part of the background of Mark 10:45, then it is worth noting that there the fate of the servant is described in passive terms (διὰ τοῦτο αὐτὸς κληρονομήσει πολλοὺς καὶ τῶν ἰσχυρῶν μεριεῖ σκῦλα ἀνθ᾽ ὧν παρεδόθη εἰς θάνατον ἡ ψυχὴ αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐν τοῖς ἀνόμοις ἐλογίσθη καὶ αὐτὸς ἁμαρτίας πολλῶν ἀνήνεγκεν καὶ διὰ τὰς ἁμαρτίας αὐτῶν παρεδόθη), whereas Mark 10:45 states the fate of the Son of Man in active verbs. See Adela Yarbro Collins, “The Signification of Mark 10:45 among Gentile Christians,” Harvard Theological Review 90 (1997): 372. 12  See Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 311; Dieter Lührmann, Das Markusevangelium (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987), 179; and Evans, Mark, 116–17.

Exegetical Notes on Mark 10:42–45

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of the conversation to matters of martyrdom and death. This pertains both to the reference of the cup and the baptism (vv. 38–39) and to the sitting at Jesus’ right and left hands, given that whereas the two ask about sitting ἐκ δεξιῶν καὶ εἷς ἐξ ἀριστερῶν (v. 37), Jesus responds by referring to sitting ἐκ δεξιῶν μου ἢ ἐξ εὐωνύμων (v. 40), which is an expression that returns in the account of his crucifixion: καὶ σὺν αὐτῷ σταυροῦσιν δύο λῃστάς ἕνα ἐκ δεξιῶν καὶ ἕνα ἐξ εὐωνύμων αὐτοῦ.13 Whereas this provides a preparation of the statement in 10:45 concerning the Son of Man’s death, it also offers a near-Johannine reinterpretation of what true glory amounts to,14 it seems, which is at the core of Jesus’ teaching in vv. 42–44, with its own take as to what constitutes being “great” or “first.”15 In the process, the Markan Jesus also shifts the focus from a future place of glory to the role of leaders in the community, thus making the discourse transparent for the Markan community and its office bearers. A third observation concerns the occurrence of the contrast between rulers of the nations and the way it ought to be ἐν ὑμῖν, i. e., in the community addressed by Jesus through the Gospel of Mark (vv. 42–44). Of particular interest are the possible backgrounds to the rhetoric of ruling and serving there. Recent scholarship shows a tendency to avoid following the (seeming) lead of Markan rhetoric here and pause to ask whether gentile leadership is general is in view, or just particularly bad examples of it.16 While there is no consensus concerning the genealogy of the topics found here in Mark, three remarks can be made. First, in Jewish circles the combination of leadership, service, and self-offering, to the extent of (expiatory, liberating) sacrifice on behalf of the people existed,17 both 13 

See also Evans, Mark, 119, with emphasis on the irony of this. See also the remarks of Eric Thurman, “Looking for a Few Good Men: Mark and Masculinity,” in New Testament Masculinities (eds. Stephen D. Moore and Janice Capel Anderson; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 142. 15  The fact that Jesus indicates that it is not up to him to grant these honors may also indicate that he is acting as an emissary with limited authority. 16  This discussion is partially determined by the interpretation of the verbs κατακυριεύω and κατεξουσιάζω in relation to the more common forms κυριεύω and ἐξουσιάζω, and whether the former two verbs represent intensified forms of the latter two, potentially signifying instances of tyranny and oppression. See, for example, Adam Winn, “Tyrant or Servant? Roman Political Ideology and Mark 10.42–45,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 36 (2014): 342–43, for an overview of the discussion. It certainly would suit the context of colonial Palestine and the experience of gentile rulership (see Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 312; similarly, C.S. Mann, Mark [New York: Doubleday, 1986], 414; Evans, Mark, 118). Whether one indeed thinks that tyranny is in view (as Winn himself does) or not, for the purposes of this paper the more important question is the structure of the relationship between those who are in charge and the communities involved. Even if no tyranny is involved, a relationship can still have the shape of “ruling over” or “being commissioned by” when it comes to leadership roles. Narry F. Santos, Slave of All: The Paradox of Authority and Servanthood in the Gospel of Mark (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 203, is right in stressing that the use of a double example intensifies its impact. 17  See Jan Willem van Henten, The Maccabean Martyrs as Saviours of the Jewish People: A Study of 2 and 4 Maccabees (Leiden: Brill, 1997). See also the texts collected in Jan Willem van 14 

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with and without a direct relationship to Isa 53.18 Second, in extra-Jewish texts, similar combinations can also be found, in particular when related to ideal (philosophical) kingship,19 this also applies to the gift of one’s life as a λύτρον.20 Third, when considering Roman and affiliated political leadership in Mark, the two prime examples are Herod and Pilate, both of whom fail spectacularly in their roles, notably in Mark 6 and 15.21 The combination of these factors leads to an interpretative situation in which not gentile leadership as such, or in its ideal form, is at stake in v. 42, but its perversion, which the readers of Mark are familiar with from Chapter 6 already, while both gentile and Jewish leaders will be able to make sense of what follows, in particular in terms of ideal-typical leadership.22 Common to the two discourses of leadership, of which the Jewish Henten and Friedrich Avemarie, Martyrdom and Noble Death: Selected Texts from Graeco-Roman, Jewish and Christian Antiquity (New York: Routledge, 2002). 18  The connection between the “suffering servant” and Mark 10:42–45, in particular v. 45, is a much debated question that cannot be addressed on its own here and which is also of secondary importance to the argument advanced here. Should there indeed be a direct connection between these two texts, then this would mainly reinforce what can be argued on the basis of a more general pattern of ideals concerning leadership, self-giving, and service as well. For a survey of the debate on scriptural backgrounds, including Isa 53, and the Markan text, see for instance, J. Christopher Edwards, The Ransom Logion in Mark and Matthew: Its Reception and Its Significance for the Study of the Gospels (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), surveying most relevant secondary literature up to 2012. Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 313, rightly point both to the Jewish martyrdom tradition and the Pauline/deutero-Pauline usage of ἀπολύτρωσις, as well as to the suffering servant (315). 19  See David Seeley, “Rulership and Service in Mark 10:41–45,” Novum Testamentum 35 (1993): 234–50. Following Seeley’s line of thought, see also Matthew Thiessen, “The Many for One or One for the Many? Reading Mark 10:45 in the Roman Empire,” Harvard Theological Review 109 (2016): 447–66, who argues convincingly that Mark 10:45 can be understood against the backdrop of prevailing imperial ruler ideology, albeit it with a twist: in the case of Mark, the “ruler” gives his life for the people, rather than that it being assumed that the people ought to give their lives for their king. Winn, “Tyrant,” 343, suggests that the (Roman) readers of Mark would be able to recognise themselves in the ideals of rulership outlined here and may have joined in denouncing poor exercise of power along these lines. 20  See Yarbro Collins, “Signification,” with reference to actual liberation through manumission in relation to this term. 21  On Mark 6, see Peter-Ben Smit, Masculinity and the Bible – Survey, Models, and Perspectives (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 57–66. On the characterization of both Herod and Pilate, see Adam Winn, “‘Their Great Ones act as Tyrants over them.’ Mark’s Characterization of Roman Authorities from a Distinctly Roman Perspective,” in Character Studies and the Gospel of Mark (eds. Christopher W. Skinner and Matthew Ryan Hauge; London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 194–214. For the suggestion that Herod and Pilate are in view here, see Alberto De Mingo Kaminouchi, But It Is Not So Among You: Echoes of Power in Mark 10.32–45 (London: Bloomsbury, 2003), 207, commenting in particular on the οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν in v. 42, as indeed both rulers fail rather spectacularly, Herod as a host, Pilate as a judge. Joachim Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1979), 103, considers this an instance of irony. Similarly, R.T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 418–19. 22  The use of a negative example about the “other” can also function as a rhetorical ploy: as the Markan community may well have distanced itself from “pagan” practices at large, the last

Exegetical Notes on Mark 10:42–45

23

one is more likely to be genealogically connected to the text, is however – and for this the shift in agency between v. 33 and v. 45 is of significance – that it is through intentional service on behalf of and for the benefit of the community that a person leads and that it is precisely also due to this intentionality that it is service exercised as leader. In other words: hierarchy and roles do not disappear,23 they are only structured in a particular manner and filled with service, which, to be sure, may still involve considerable exercise of power, or even violence.

4. Who is a Διάκονος to Whom? In most literature and also in the quotation from Hentschel above, Mark 10:42– 45 is interpreted in such a manner that the injunction in v. 43 that whoever wants to be great “among you” has to be a “servant” (ὃς ἂν θέλῃ μέγας γενέσθαι ἐν ὑμῖν ἔσται ὑμῶν διάκονος), followed up in v. 44 by the parallel statement that whoever wants to rank first “among you” needs to be the slave of all (ὃς ἂν θέλῃ ἐν ὑμῖν εἶναι πρῶτος ἔσται πάντων δοῦλος),24 refers to a “Christ-like” (or “Jesus-like”) attitude among the community leaders, addressed by way of Jesus’ interlocutors in this pericope, the inner circle of his disciples.25 Mark 10:42–45 is thus read as suggesting that leaders in a community are acting on behalf of Jesus and therefore ought to behave like a proper διάκονος or δοῦλος, i. e.: a διάκονος commissioned by Jesus and acting on Jesus’ behalf or as a δοῦλος of Jesus. This argument is often supported by Jesus’ commissioning of his disciples to perform tasks for him throughout the Gospel of Mark.26 Yet, it is worthwhile to explore this question further, given that it is not necessarily as clear as this who is a διάκονος or δοῦλος to whom. To begin with, concerning the Son of Man, it must be noted that both the question on behalf of whom this person is exercising a διακονία (with the genithing that its leadership would want is to be seen as “typically pagan” leaders. By identifying a particular style of leadership as “pagan,” it immediately becomes much less attractive to members of the Markan community. 23  See in this respect also John N. Collins, “Does Equality of Discipleship Add Up to Church? A Critique of Feminist Ekklesia-logy,” New Theology Review 12.3 (August 1999): 48–57, a thorough critique of Schüssler Fiorenza’s exegesis and ecclesiological agenda. Power and hierarchy do not disappear in an “ekklesia,” rather the notion of διακονία helps to make it visible and to position it under Christ as a specific gift of the Spirit. 24  For recognition of the parallelism and its interpretative value, see Mann, Mark, 414. 25  The line of thought presented in this section was developed in the biblical theology class taught in the winter term of 2016/2017 at the Old Catholic Seminary, Utrecht; discussion with Anne Miedema and David Ross, both participating in the class, particularly helped to develop it. 26  See Hentschel, Gemeinde, 170–230, for an extensive overview of the commissioning and sending out of the disciplines as part of their Nachfolge.

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tive understood as a genitivus subjectivus) and the question as to who its precise beneficiaries are (to be indicated by a genitivus objectivus), at least in as far as it concerns an object for the verb διακονέω in v. 45, seem to be open, in particular because no one or nothing is mentioned in the required genitive. Of course, it is likely that the idea is that διακονία is exercised on behalf of God and for the benefit of the πολλοὶ. Another possibility would be that the (missing) object or subject in the genitive would, in fact, be the same person: a service commissioned by God and exercised for God, with the “many” as collateral beneficiaries, rather than as those who are being served. This would come close to (mentally) inserting a genitive θεοῦ here in which objective and subjective meanings coincide in a somewhat ambiguous manner, 27 akin to the way in which this happens in the notorious expression πίστις Χριστοῦ.28 In the end, exegetical, rather than grammatical considerations are needed to help resolve the issue.29 The key exegetical consideration in this case is probably that, whereas there is no clear indication of any other addressee of the service – “the people of Israel,” or “the community of disciples” are not indicated as such, for instance – the resulting ambiguity can well be dissolved by emphasizing an interpretation of the καί in the latter part of Mark 10:45, i. e.: καὶ δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν, as a καί epexegeticum, a proposal that would find confirmation in the work of Hentschel30 and Collins31 as well. This would turn the act of giving one’s life for many (or “the many”– οἱ πολλοί, whether this may be intended pejoratively or not must remain undiscussed here),32 into the content of the ­execution of the commission indicated by διακονέω, not a separate act (which it would be when reading καί as a coordinating conjunction). Therefore, the “many” are not the ones on whose behalf the Son of Man acts as a διάκονος or the ones vis-à-vis he exercises his commission, but rather God’s commissioning of the Son of Man has as its content giving one’s life for the many in terms of a 27  This is probably still in line with the interpretations offered by Collins and Hentschel, given that they are adamant to stress both that God commissions Christ and that Christ exercises this commission for God, not in the service of human beings. 28  On which see Suzan J.M. Sierksema-Agteres, “Imitation in faith: enacting Paul’s am­ biguous pistis Christou formulations on a Greco-Roman stage,” International Journal of Philosophy and Theology 77 (2016): 119–53. The problem of an objective and a subjective genitive coinciding could also be solved with reference to the notion of a “plenary genitive,” which intentionally combines both senses. This has been proposed by, for instance, Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996), 119–21; this, however, seems to be a somewhat doubtful category. The substantiation of the existence of this grammatical phenomenon by Wallace provides little evidence or detail. 29  Following Moulton’s observation that working out which genitive is used in ambiguous cases is frequently a question of exegesis rather than of grammar. See J.H. Moulton, A Grammar of New Testament Greek 1 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1908), 72. 30 Hentschel, Gemeinde, 185. 31 Collins, Diakonia Studies, 82–83. 32  Likely, its meaning is intended to cover a broad array of people, similar to “all,” see Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 313; see also Mann, Mark, 416–20.

Exegetical Notes on Mark 10:42–45

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ransom.33 God would, therefore, be indeed be both subject of the διακονία of the Son of Man, which produced, given the content of the διακονία at stake, also the ransoming of the “many.” The statement about the Son of Man in v. 45, which serves as an exemplum to back up Jesus’ preceding teaching, has, accordingly, two key components: (a) the presentation of an authoritative, even normative instance of an existence dedicated to acting on behalf of a higher authority, in the case of the exemplum: God; (b) the contents of that existence: giving one’s life for others. Thus, there are at least two possible tertia comparationis contained in this statement about the Son of Man and, in line with the generic use of exempla in the Greco-Roman world, not all need to match the case for which it is intended.34 Concerning the first possible point of comparison, two main options exist: (a) comparison is in particular with acting on behalf of God; (b) comparison is in particular with regard to acting on behalf of a higher authority as such. For two reasons, the latter option is by far the most attractive, despite Hentschel’s and Collins’ preference for the first option. The reasons for this are twofold: (1) In the majority of cases in which διάκονος occurs with a genitive, this genitive indicates the person or institution on behalf of which someone acts. The Jewish, Christian, and “pagan” materials referenced by Collins and Hentschel all indicate this.35 The beneficiaries of someone acting on behalf of someone else are frequently indicated either through a construction with a preposition or by means of a dative, although it is possible that a genitive is used as well, but it seems to be somewhat less common.36 The fact that in v. 45 the beneficiaries of the Son of Man’s 33  Although exegetes like Baarlink (following Jeremias and others; “Leben,” 109–11) opine differently, there is absolutely no reason to think of an interpretation of Mark 10:45 in terms of “Existenzvertretung” or “Stellvertretung”; the notion that Jesus, as the Son of Man has come δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν is an image (metaphor) that interprets the effect of Jesus’ life and death in terms of liberation or ransoming, which, in Mark is complemented with other images (that have very little to do with “Stellvertretung” indeed, see Backhaus, “Lösepreis,” 92). A(n ethically dubious) deal between God and the Messiah in terms of arranging a situation in which a ransom can be paid to God as the “Preis für verwirktes Le­ ben” (Baarlink, “Leben,” 110) is questionable to say the least. For instance, Backhaus, “Lösepreis,” 108–9, also uses the concept of “Stellvertretung” rather as if it is quite self-explanatory; however, his triad“‘Dienst’ – ‘Stellvertretung’ – ‘Lebenshingabe’” in order to sum up the dynamics of Mark 10:45 already shows how superfluous the concept is here. The execution of the commission that the Son of Man has amounts to giving his own life as a ransom for the benefit of many; this dynamic can, in line with the entire Gospel of Mark, be understood well in terms of (a) denial of the powers that be; Jesus’ death overcomes the powers of death and accordingly liberates from them; (b) complete surrendering to God and accordingly a life in communion with God, in which those following Jesus can participate. For further considerations, see Brenda B. Colijn, Images of Salvation in the Testament (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 2010), 148–52. 34  On the theory and use of exempla in the first century C.E., see Peter-Ben Smit, Paradigms of Being in Christ (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 16–30. 35 Collins, Diakonia, 73–243; Hentschel, Diakonia, 34–89. 36  For examples, see Hentschel, Gemeinde, 189 n.  481.

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acting on behalf of God, i. e. the “many,” are indicated by means of a more complicated construction than just a genitive might also speak against seeing a parallel on that level here: it would have been more likely to have parallel constructions to indicate those who benefitted from someone’s acting on someone else’s behalf. (2) In this manner it is much easier to make sense of the use of the term δοῦλος in relation to πρῶτος in v. 44: these two terms express a hierarchy, which is exactly what there would be should the genitive ὑμῶν in v. 43 express that one who wishes to be “great” is to be a διάκονος. It also agrees with the use of δοῦλος with a genitive, which usually expresses a relationship of ownership, irrespective of whether someone is a slave of God (see the LSJ entry). As both ὑμῶν and πάντων are plurals, and in both v. 43 and v. 44 the focus is ἐν ὑμῖν, i. e., in the community, the most likely referent is the community, not God, Christ, or both. Furthermore, when the statements about being ὑμῶν διάκονος and πάντων δοῦλος have parallel meanings, which is certainly an appealing interpretative option, as it would read the two statements as a synonymous or explanatory parallelism with a καί epexegeticum at its centre, then the (unclear) first should be read in the light of the (clearer) second one. Both being a slave happens, therefore, in relation to the community and also enacting a role as διάκονος. However hyperbolic the expression may be here – the context certainly invites one to consider this possibility, as Jesus’ words are intended to be effective rhetorically and to contrast the (exaggerated) desire for status among the disciples 37 – it does indicate, together with what precedes it in v. 43 that the “first” and “great” in the Markan community are to act on behalf of the community and are, in that sense, subordinate to it, like a δοῦλος, just as the Son of Man acted on behalf of God. These considerations find support in Mark 9:35, a parallel to 10:45: εἴ τις θέλει πρῶτος εἶναι ἔσται πάντων ἔσχατος καὶ πάντων διάκονος. Here, both genitives should be read as relational genitives, expressing that whoever wants to be first needs to be the last in relation to all and to be the διάκονος in relation to all. In line with what was observed before, this use of the genitive suggests that the disciples, here admonished for their arguing as to who is the greater one among them (v. 34), are also instructed to act on behalf of the community and thus in its service. There is no suggestion here of acting on behalf of God, which reinforces the impression that the tertium comparationis between Mark 10:45 and the verses preceding it is the notion of acting on behalf of others as such, rather than acting on behalf of God in particular. 37  Winn, “Tyrant,” 345, argues that the reference to a “slave” here must be hyperbolic; in any case, it goes beyond the terminology used in Greco-Roman leadership ideology. This must be nuanced, given that at least δουλεία is indeed used in these contexts (see Seeley, ­“Rulership,” 236, referring to Dio Chrysostom, Or. 3.75, where the sun, as supreme king, is described by means of the expression δουλείαν δουλεύω). Yet, the statement remains a crass one. It is also possible that the term δοῦλος is useful as a means for interpreting διάκονος here because Jesus died a slave’s death.

Exegetical Notes on Mark 10:42–45

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Concerning the second possible point of comparison, which is of lesser importance for answering the question of who is a διάκονος to whom, and which has as its core the contents of the διακονία of the Son of Man and the acting as a διάκονος of those who wish to be great among the disciples, it would seem that the connection is looser than in the case of the first point of comparison. That is to say the following: whereas there is little suggestion either here or elsewhere in the Gospel of Mark that the (most prominent among the) disciples are to lay down their lives as λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν, which seems to be something that is particular to the Son of Man, the immediate context does suggest strongly that they will die as part of their discipleship, given Jesus’ words in v. 39: τὸ ποτήριον ὃ ἐγὼ πίνω πίεσθε καὶ τὸ βάπτισμα ὃ ἐγὼ βαπτίζομαι βαπτισθήσεσθε; whereas the reference to baptism may not be found in the text of Mark, the chalice is found in Mark 14:36, where it clearly is a metaphor for Jesus’ impending fate. Thus, when returning to the main question of this section: Jesus’ instruction pertains to preeminence and greatness finding its expression in acting on behalf of the community, rather than positioning oneself over it (and presumably ­acquiring others to act on one’s behalf and/or as one’s servants or slaves, unlike the Son of Man did). This would seem to imply acting on behalf of the community, but this is not the focus of Jesus’ instruction. Also the potential lethal consequences of such behavior is not the core of his injunction, even if it is a likely corollary, given in parallel between the fates of the Son of Man and that of the two Zebedean brothers, who give occasion for Jesus’ words of admonition. For those living as preeminent and “great” members of the community of dis­ ciples, in terms of the way in which relationships are structured, the community occupies the place that God likely has in the relationship between God and the Son of Man. In other words, the preeminent and distinguished members of the community are not directly διάκονοι θεοῦ, rather they are this indirectly: by being διάκονοι τῆς ἐκκλησίας (θεοῦ), or, in the words of Mark: πάντων.38 Accordingly, the most viable exegetical option is to posit that the “great” and “first” in the community addressed by the Markan gospel should consider themselves as servants of the community. This fully agrees with the introducto38  For another proposal concerning whether acting on behalf of God or on behalf of human beings is in view, see the following quotation from a review of Collins, Diakonia Studies by Jeremy Worthen, Ecclesiology 12 (2016): 262–64, 264: “If the diakonos is at the disposal of one with higher authority and greater honour, to undertake work on their behalf and thereby share something of their status, then might we see Jesus, who is wholly at the disposal of the one with the highest glory and therefore participates fully in it, doing God’s work by putting himself at the disposal of sinful human beings and thereby exalting them in turn to divine glory? Collins seems to presume that there has to be strict either/or in Mark 10:45, Jesus as the diakonos either of God or of human beings in giving his life as a ransom for many and, because he has strong grounds for the former, he argues that this must exclude the latter. But might not soteriology and indeed Christology turn on the encompassing of both in a transformative exchange?”

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ry remark of Jesus in v. 42 concerning the authority of rulers (οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν τῶν ἐθνῶν) of the Gentiles and the manner in which these “lord it over them,” paralleled by Jesus’ subsequent statement that “their high officials (οἱ μεγάλοι) exercise authority over them” (NRSV). In the equally parallel answer formulated by Jesus (vv. 43–44), the position of the great and preeminent ones in the Markan community is delineated. Nowhere is the acting of the gentile authorities in analogy or on behalf of a higher authority (for example, the emperor, a deity, etc.) suggested. This is another reason, in addition to the ones adduced above, to assume that the acting is as a διάκονος i. e.: a δοῦλος. Rather, the point of contrast between the two gentile examples is the attitude vis-à-vis the community. Following Markan vocabulary, the contrast is between self-positioning as “κύριος” or as someone endowed with “ἐξουσία” (see the verbs κατακυριεύω and κατεξουσιάζω in v. 42) and as someone who is a διάκονος or δοῦλος of the community. In other words, not the course of someone’s authority or the like is at stake, but the way in which this authority is conceptualised and exercised with regard to the community. The Gentile model positions the leader over the community; the Markan model positions the community over the leader. When expressing this in the terminology of the new paradigm of διακονία, the difference is between leadership that acts on behalf of the community (Markan) and leadership that is seemingly autonomous in nature (Gentile). Verse 45 substantiates this model of “diaconal” leadership, i. e. acting on behalf of someone else, by using the paradigm of the Son of Man. That this is a further thought is indicated by the structure of Jesus’ pronouncement, which consists of a contrastive parallelism that contains in itself two synonymous parallelism, followed by the Son of Man saying (the structure of Jesus’ statement can be represented as a, a’ [v. 42]–b, b’ [vv. 43–44]–c [v. 45]). The b, b’ sequence may well have an intensifying and clarifying character, moving from διάκονος to “δοῦλος” in the process.39 From this follows that acting on behalf of someone else, i. e. as διάκονος, is fitting for the “great” and “first” in the Markan model, given this example, but it does not follow that the leaders addressed by the statement are acting directly on God’s behalf and for the benefit of “many,” as the Son of Man does – only the notion that “acting on behalf of others” is appropriate behaviour is substantiated in this manner.40 Jesus employs a line of reasoning that can be characterised as “a maiore ad minus”: if it was appropriate for the Son of Man to act on behalf of someone else, then it would certainly be appropriate for lesser figures, even if they are the “great” or the “first” in a community, to do so. The resulting Mar39  See the analysis of Narry F. Santos, “Jesus’ Paradoxical Teaching in Mark 8:35; 9:35; and 10:43–44,” Bibliotheca Sacra 157 (2000): 15–25, 23–24. 40  This is a slightly different interpretation than the one proposed by Winn, “Tyrant,” 348, who sees Mark as propagating “service as the ultimate expression of authority.” The difference is that Winn reads the διάκονος/δοῦλος vocabulary used here as referring to “service” rather than as having been commissioned by someone.

Exegetical Notes on Mark 10:42–45

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kan paradigm of leadership in the community is leadership on behalf of, possibly commissioned by, the community, rather than leadership that subordinates the community to itself. The position of divine authority as implied in v. 45 in all of this would, if it is of significance at all, be occupied by the community, not by its leadership. This interpretation of Mark 10:42–45 retains the new interpretation of διακονία, but gives a different answer to the question of who is exercising a διακονία on behalf of whom according to Jesus’s statement in vv. 43–45.

5. Conclusion On the basis of the above considerations, some brief conclusions are warranted that may serve to further the approach to the diakonia discussion that has come to be associated with the names of Collins and Hentschel – without wishing to deny or diminish the efforts and contributions of others who have worked in a similar vein. First, it appears that Mark, through the Markan Jesus, presents leadership in the community as being characterised by exercising authority on behalf of others. This is inherent in the use of διακονία terminology. Second, in the community that Mark imagines, such ideal-typical leadership consists of acting on behalf of the community and in its service. This means a slight shift from the perspective set forth by others, given that there those exercising διακονία do so directly on behalf of God. Here, the community is positioned, as it were, between God and the “deacon.” For an understanding of the role of διακονία and the ministry of the deacon in contemporary theological and ecclesiological reflection, this may well be worth taking into account. When doing so, the gendering of notions of service (frequently considered feminine)41 and acting on behalf of others, ought also to be taken into account: if acting on behalf of others is gendered more masculine, what kind of masculinity would this be and who can perform and embody it?

41 Hentschel, Gemeinde, 19, 39. See also Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “‘Der Dienst an den Tischen.’ Eine kritische feministisch-theologische Überlegung zum Thema Diakonie,” Concilium 24 (1988): 311–12. See further the contribution of Christina Schnabl, “Solidarität. Ein sozialethischer Grundbegriff – genderethisch betrachtet,” Solidarität – ein christlicher Grund­ begriff?: soziologische und theologische Perspektiven (eds. Michael Krüggeler, Stephanie Klein and Karl Gabriel; Zürich: TVZ, 2005), 135–61, as well as the queering interpretation of the (Roman Catholic all-male) diaconate by Paul M. Zulehner, Dienende Männer – Anstifter zur Solidarität: Diakone in Westeuropa (Ostfildern: Schwabenverlag, 2003), 23–24.

The Rhetorical Value of Διακον- in Matthew 25:44 John N. Collins

The setting of the Judgment of the Nations (Matt 25:31–46) could hardly be more dramatic. In the section beginning at Matt 21, Jesus enters Jerusalem, is engaged in confrontation with the religious authorities, and delivers the eschatological discourse with dire forebodings of end times to fall upon all (21:1– 25:30). The section concludes with this narrative of judgement, while the next opens upon Jesus at Passover in Jerusalem and continues with the rapid succession of his arrest, condemnation, and death. This powerful scenario emphasises the universal relevance of the narrative of judgement, shifting the gospel’s earlier focus from the tutoring of a small group of fragile disciples to the fates confronting every man out “in the field,” every woman at the “grinding of the grain,” every “house owner,” every master’s “slave,” every “bridesmaid” at her joyful celebrations, and every individual of whatever “talent” (24:40–43,48; 25:1,30). At this point, the telling of the Judgment of the Nations provides reassurance to those with ears to hear. Doers of good things to those in need – they have given food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, have welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, taken care of the sick, and have visited those behind bars (vv. 34–36) – “will inherit the kingdom” prepared for them “from the foundation of the world.” Reassuring as this message is, listeners will remain alert to the grave warning embodied in what “the king” (so entitled vv. 34,40) includes in his judgment of those who have not been doers of good things. They are “accursed,” and receive a sentence of exclusion from the kingdom and “eternal punishment” with “the devil and his angels” (vv. 41,46).

1. Translating the Διακον- Verb The considerations that follow, as the title indicates, are not an exegesis of the passage but focus on the role that the Greek verb διακονέω plays in this narrative. Thus, discussion will not include the question of literary genre (the passage is not pure parable, although with the opening image of sheep and goats many

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think of it as such), nor will it enter into the protracted debate surrounding the identity of “the least of my brethren” (v. 40, RSV; NRSV: “of these who are members of my family,” see v. 46: “the least”: are these the disciples or are they Christians in general or are they peoples of “all the nations,” v. 32?) The focus is restricted to determining and illustrating the meaning of the verb διακονέω in v. 45 in order to demonstrate what this verb contributes to the import of the passage.1 Those whom the Son of Man had separated to stand on his left-hand side and who have already received their sentence appeal to “the king” (v. 44): “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry […] and did not take care of you?” The italicised words here are the translation in NRSV of the Greek verb διηκονήσαμεν. The same English phrase or an equivalent expression occurs in most modern English translations of the New Testament (take care of: NAS, help: NIV, TEV, CEV). Translations in other languages will provide occasion for similar reflections as those here. What we notice in English at this point (v. 44), however, is that the earliest English translations from the Greek had here used the verb minister, thus William Tyndale (1526): “when […] have [we] not ministered unto thee?” Similarly AV/KJ (1611). This verb minister survived in RSV (1945) but was replaced by take care of in NRSV (1989). Does any significance attach to this change from “minister” to “taking care of,” “helping”? By 1989 were ministry terms simply out of date – at least in certain contexts? At Acts  1:17 and 25, NRSV did not hesitate to translate διακονία as “ministry” in reference to the commissioning of the apostles. Similarly in regard to the “ministry” of Paul at Acts  20:24 and 21:19, just as in Paul’s own reference to his “ministry” at Rom  11:13 and “ministry” of others in the church at Rom  12:7. The difference emerges especially, however, when a third party is understood to be the recipient of a beneficent activity. Thus, when the disciples in Antioch hear of famine in Jerusalem, NRSV reports that they determined to “send relief/diakonia” by the hands of Barnabas and Saul (Acts  11:29). But when the crisis is past, in reporting that the two delegates had completed their “diakonia” (12:25), the NRSV now calls it a “mission.” Similar differences – which are really blatant inconsistencies – could be traced across much of the usage of the διακονία terms in modern translations of the New Testament across all languages. An awareness of this singular phenomenon alerts us to the need to take note of what has been happening in modern times to the understanding of the διακον- verb in Matthew’s passage. Its presence in the passage has certainly attracted keen interest, as we will have occasion 1  Comprehensive exegeses are, e. g., Ulrich Luz, Matthew 21–28: A Commentary, trans. J. E. Crouch (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2005); Egon Brandenburger, “Taten der Barmherzigkeit als Dienst dem königlichen Herrn (Matt 25:31–46),” in Diakonie – biblische Grund­ lagen und Orientierungen: Ein Arbeitsbuch (eds. Gerhard K. Schäfer and Theodor Strohm; Heidelberg: Winter, 1994), 297–326.

The Rhetorical Value of Διακον- in Matthew 25:44

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to observe. First, however, we will draw attention to the position held by this verb among the eight other verbs in the passage. The point in this is to observe the priority given in modern times to the notion of caring carried by διακον- in this narrative.

2. Διακον- among Other Verbs A string of verbs designating specific activities occurs in more or less identical form on three occasions: i when the king lists the activities of those “blessed by [his] Father” ii when “the righteous” ask when it was that they had performed such activities iii when the king informs “those at his left hand” that they had not performed these activities In these three contexts the verbs are as follows in English (with the Greek verb identified in brackets): i 35. I was hungry: you gave me food (ἐδώκατε) I was thirsty: you gave me to drink (ἐποτίσατε) I was a stranger: you welcomed me (συνηγάγετέ) 36. I was naked: you gave me clothing (περιεβάλετέ) I was sick: you took care of me (ἐπεσκέψασθέ) I was in prison: you visited me (ἤλθατε) ii

37. when was it that you were hungry: we gave you food (ἐθρέψαμεν) thirsty: we gave you to drink (ἐποτίσαμεν) 38. a stranger: we welcomed you (συνηγάγομεν) naked: we gave you clothing (περιεβάλομεν) 39. sick or in prison: we visited you (ἤλθομεν)

iii 42. I was hungry: you gave me no food (ἐδώκατε) thirsty: you gave me nothing to drink (ἐποτίσατε) 43. a stranger: you did not welcome me (συνηγάγετέ) naked: you did not give me clothing (περιεβάλετέ) sick and in prison: you did not visit me (ἐπεσκέψασθέ)

One other verb function is also to be noted. When the king refers to the totality of these activities, the narrative employs on two occasions a verb with a generic reference, thus, in reference to the activities firstly of “the righteous” and secondly of “those at his left hand”:

40. just as you did it to one […] you did it to me (ἐποιήσατε) 45. just as you did not do it to one […] you did not do it to me (ἐποιήσατε)

Here we see that the king refers to the diverse activities of giving food, giving drink, welcoming, clothing, taking care of, visiting by use of one verb denoting

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“doing things” for others and for himself. This raises the question about the new verb expressed by “those at his left hand” when those people are appealing to the king against the sentence he has passed on them. Unlike the king, who twice summarised the activities by the use of the generic verb “to do” (vv. 40,45), the condemned introduce a new verb to the narrative to summarise the list of the same activities, as follows:

44. when was it that we saw you hungry / thirsty / a stranger / naked / sick / in prison: did not take care of you (διηκονήσαμέν)

If we look back to the list of NRSV translations of the other verbs, we notice that the English verbal phrase “take care of (epeskepsasthe)” has occurred in reference to the sick person at v. 36, although not in reference to the sick and imprisoned at v. 43. Here the Greek text again has ἐπεσκέψασθε, while the English translation of ἐπεσκέψασθε this time changes from “take care of” to “visit” (a legitimate translation). We soon realise, however, that this change has occurred for the purpose of leaving the translators room to re-introduce the notion “take care of” into the following verse as the translation of the new verb on the lips of the condemned: διηκονήσαμεν. According to this reading of the ­narrative, the attendants are protesting how well they have been “taking care of” the king.

3. The Διακον- Verb and the Modern Tradition of Diakonia At the root of this seemingly minor inconsistency is a mid-twentieth century conviction about the singular semantic value said to be carried by this new verb in early Christian writings. The verb belongs to the διακονία word group and, by a now longstanding and almost universal consensus (embodied in vol.  2 of the Kittel Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament of 1935), words of this group have come to be understood as giving expression to a lowly and caring love that has a specifically Christian character deriving from the example and the teachings of Jesus. In this reading, the peak expression of the character of the mission of Jesus is what he himself had taught his disciples, namely, that he had come “not to be served but to serve […] ” (Mark 10:45). This serve verb translates also the διακον- verb that occurs in our passage of Matt 25:44. In the Kittel Dictionary, Hermann W. Beyer had written of this verb at Mark 10:45 as being “much more than a comprehensive term for any loving assistance […] It is understood as full and perfect sacrifice, as the offering of life which is the very essence of service, of being for others […] ”2 By force of this conviction – really, 2  Hermann W. Beyer, “διακονέω κτλ,” in TWNT 2 (1935), 81–93; Engl. trans.: TDNT 2 (1964), 81–93.

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merely a newfound mid-20th century convention – the NRSV translators of the verb διακονέω at v. 44 did not want ἐπεσκέψασθε of the preceding v. 43 to an­ ticipate the idea of “care for others” that they had already attributed to this verb in v. 36, so at v. 43 they opted to translate it “visit.” This left “take care of” to be available at v. 44 to represent the meaning of the διακονέω verb there. This Greek verb in precisely this verse had achieved a very high profile in early to mid-20th century pastoral theology, especially in German-speaking lands and within pastoral practice of the Evangelical and Reformed Churches. Since the mid-19th century, these churches had been the home of what became a vibrant renewal of a modern diaconate dedicated to social services to those in need. The dedication of deaconesses and deacons to this calling was hugely inspired by what they understood of the διακονία of the Son of Man who came to “serve/διακον-” (Mark 10:45) and of the summons in the Judgement of the Nations to “serve” the needy through the church’s διακονία. Their own designation within the church as deaconess and deacon, titles deriving directly from the original Greek title διάκονος, resonated with the constant call to διακονία. Even by the mid-19th century the term had already become a simple German neologism in the form Diakonie. And under this title the Evangelical Church soon developed its organization of Christian social services (Diakonie activated in das diakonische Werk). Today the organization employs some 450,000 people in over 1,000 service centres (Diakoniestationen), in tertiary diakonic institutes, and in administration. Clearly, the narrative of the Judgement of the Nations is an important document within such a strongly diakonic religious culture. Writing on “Diakonie in der Gemeinde/Diakonie in the Parish,” Günter Ruddat and Gerhard K. Schäfer asserted: Diakonie takes on a specific signification precisely when the verb διακονέω (to serve) refers directly to situations of basic need and to “the works of mercy” (Matt 25:31–46) […].3

This culture has been broadly shared across central Europe, in Scandinavia, North America, and wherever the German deaconess movement took root.4 In 1966, contributing a chapter to Service in Christ, a volume dedicated to Karl Barth who, in Church Dogmatics 4:2, had forcefully promoted the significance 3  “Spezifische Bedeutung gewinnt ‘Diakonie’ dann insofern als diakonein (dienen) inhaltlich auf elementare Notsituationen und die Werke der Barmherzigkeit bezogen (Matt 25.31ff) […],” Günter Ruddat and Gerhard K. Schäfer, “Diakonie in der Gemeinde,” in Dia­konisches Kompendium (eds. Günter Ruddat and Gerhard K. Schäfer; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2005), 203–27, 214. 4  See the section “The Impact of a ‘Revolutionary Word,’” in John N. Collins, “Theology of Ministry in the Twentieth Century: Ongoing Problems or New Orientations?” Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 165–86, 168– 73; also in Ecclesiology 8/1 (2012): 11–32.

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of διακονία for an authentic life within the Christian church,5 Charles E. B. Cranfield had called Matt 25:44 “the locus classicus” of the Christian ideal of loving service, 6 a concept the German language is able to express as Liebesdienst (service of love). Ulrich Luz identifies the passage as “the foundational text of Christian Diakonie,”7 while Theodor Strohm invokes the image of the text as “the Magna Charta of Diakonie,”8 a figure drawn upon also by Gerhard K. Schäfer and Volker Herrmann.9 Illustrating the widespread acceptance of this diakonic style beyond the EKD (Evangelische Kirche in Deutschland), the German pope, Benedict XVI, introduced Part 2 of his first encyclical God is love under the title “On the Practice of Love in the Church.” Here he was emphasizing the foundational ecclesial dimension of love – Liebesdienst (n. 20) – on the basis of the institution of The Seven in Acts  6 , and wrote (n. 21): With the formation of this group of seven, “diaconia” – the ministry of charity exercised in a communitarian, orderly way – became part of the fundamental structure of the Church.10

In a study of this encyclical, Heinrich Pompey pointed to this emphasis on “caritative diakonia” (“caritative Diakonie”) as unprecedented in former papal teachings on social issues.11

5  Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, vol.   4, The Doctrine of Reconciliation, part 2 (trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1958, German original 1955), 694. 6  Charles E. B. Cranfield, “Diakonia in the New Testament,” in Service in Christ (eds. James I. McCord and T. H. L. Parker; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1966), 37–48, 39. 7  Ulrich Luz, “Biblische Grundlagen der Diakonie,” in Diakonisches Kompendium, 17–35, 24. 8  Theodor Strohm, “Diakonie – biblisch-theologische Grundlagen und Orientierungen. Problemhorizonte,” in Studienbuch Diakonik: Bd. 1 (eds. Volker Hermann and Martin Horstmann; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 22008), 15–25, 19. 9  Gerhard K. Schäfer and Volker Herrmann, “Geschichtliche Entwicklungen der Dia­ko­ nie,” in Diakonisches Kompendium, 36–67, 40. 10 “[…]war nun die “diakonia” – der Dienst gemeinsamer, geordnet geübter Nächstenliebe – in der grundlegenden Struktur der Kirche selbst verankert.” Text from Benedict XVI, Pope, Deus caritas est (2005); http://w2.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/encyclicals/docu ments/hf_ben-xvi_enc_20051225_deus-caritas-est.html (29.6.2017). 11  Heinrich Pompey, Zur Neuprofilierung der caritativen Diakonie der Kirche: Die Caritas-­ Enzyklika “Deus caritas est,” Kommentar und Auswertung (Würzburg: Echter Verlag, 2007), 129. And see the discussion in John N. Collins, “The Problem with Values carried by Diakonia/Diakonie in Recent Church Documents,” in Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 49.

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4. Disrupting the Consensus on Diakonia Since 1990, however, two major linguistic investigations of the διακον- terms have contested the validity of the consensus that attributes this caritative dimension to the semantic range of διακον- terms in early Christian sources.12 In fact, Hentschel and I both insist that διακον- terms have never given expression in any ancient Greek source to a notion of benevolent activity. Any activity designated by a διακον- term is one that is mandated by some authority – heavenly, civic, ecclesial, or merely personal – just as any person designated by a διακον- term is a person who acts under a permanent or temporary mandate. A particular point of grammar is that in the case of the διακον- verb, a dependent dative case of a person or institution is not an indication of some benefit to that person or institution. On the contrary, the dependent dative is identifying the source of the mandate under which the activity occurs. In instances recording Paul’s involvement in the Collection for Jerusalem, this critical factor is rarely understood. Thus, at Rom  15:25, with translations of the italicised Greek dative case:

I am going to Jerusalem

διακονῶν τοῖς ἁγίοις [NRSV] in a ministry to the saints [RSV] with aid for the saints [NIV] in the service of the saints there

What we are really to understand from the Greek dative is that “the saints” desig­nated there are not intended to be identified as the members of the community in Jerusalem whom Paul is on the way to assist. Rather, as Paul proceeds to indicate (v. 26), the saints of v. 25 are members of the communities in Macedonia and Achaia. The dative ἁγίοις indicates that Paul is acting at the behest of those communities. We see this construction in Plato’s depiction of the responsibilities of politicians and bureaucrats (Lg. 955c): “Those who perform some activity in the name of the state (τοὺς τῇ πατρίδι διακονoύντάς τι) are to act without receiving gifts.”13 We should understand Paul’s statement at 15:25 as “I am on my way to Jerusalem on a delegation from the saints [in Macedonia and Achaia].” Returning to Matt 25, we see that the διακον- verb occurs on the lips of those at the left hand of the king with a dependent dative pronoun (διηκονήσαμέν σοι). Accordingly, we are to understand that in anything these people do in relation 12  John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990); Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007). 13 On this usage see the discussion in ch. 11, “Emissaries in the Church,” in Collins, ­D iakonia, with particulars of grammar at note 9 there (p.  327); on Plato, Leg. 955, 145; also John N. Collins, Deacons and the Church (Leominster, UK: Gracewing; Harrisburg, USA: Morehouse, 2002), 66–76.

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to the king, they are professing themselves to be acting as his faithful agents or attendants. They have no other objective in mind. If the king instructed them to visit the sick, they would visit the sick; if the king calls for his supper, they will bring his supper. The needs of the destitute are not within their frame of reference, and for this the king will declare them “accursed.” They have demonstrated that they have no understanding of the nature of the kingdom. An ancient Greek-speaking audience would have immediately recognised the singular relevance of the διακον- verb in the narration of this scene of judgement. The audience would have perceived also the exclusive reference of the verb to the royal person; in addition, the audience would have recognised the διακονverb as the appropriate expression for language within a royal court. In the context of today’s theology of ministry, however, readers and translators of this passage from Matt 25 understand entirely different things in this reference to διακονία. Since the 1950s, under the impact of influential studies like Eduard Schweizer’s Church Order in the New Testament,14 Hans Küng’s The Church,15 and Thomas O’Meara’s Theology of Ministry,16 the theologically educated have taken for granted that, in ancient Greek, διακονία was, in Küng’s phrase elsewhere, “a very ordinary and not a religious term.”17 Perhaps the most strongly worded description in the modern era of the semantic values understood to be carried by διακονία was provided by Gisbert Greshake in 1982: The ministry of Christ is more specifically described as diakonia, a word which basically means “service at table.” But since in ancient times service at table was felt to be dishonourable, the word took on the pointed meaning of “lowly service,” the service of a slave. It is a service which involves becoming dirty: it counts for nothing and is despised by all. The corresponding noun diakonos came to have almost the same meaning as ­doulos. The mission of Christ was to a “slave service” of this kind.18

As late as 2002 such insistence upon the lowly character of activities named ­diakonia was embedded in the “Historico-Theological Document” that the International Theological Commission had produced after investigations lasting the whole preceding decade. The document is known in English under the title From the Diakonia of Christ to the Diakonia of the Apostles,19 and investigates the origins and theology of the diaconate. After some opening reflections upon διακονία as “putting oneself at the service of others to the point of self-renunci14  Eduard Schweizer, Church Order in the New Testament (trans. Frank Clarke; London: SCM, 1961). 15 Hans Küng, The Church (trans. Ray and Rosaleen Ockenden; London: Burns and Oates, 1967). 16  Thomas F. O’Meara, Theology of Ministry (rev. ed.; Mahwah: Paulist, 1999, original 1983). 17  Hans Küng, Why Priests? (trans. John Cumming; London: Collins Fontana, 1972), 26. 18  Gisbert Greshake, The Meaning of Christian Priesthood (trans. Peadar MacSeumais; Westminster, USA: Four Corners Press, 1989; German original, 1982), 144. 19  International Theological Commission, From the Diakonia of Christ to the Diakonia of the Apostles (trans. the Catholic Truth Society; UK; Chicago: Hillenbrand Books, 2003).

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ation and self-giving, for love” – a description deriving from a prior publication by the ITC’s own president 20 – references in chapter 2.I.2 on “Data from the New Testament” are exclusively to German literature, highlighting Ernst ­Dassmann’s study, 21 but pointing to the origins of this line of interpretation in Hermann W. Beyer’s article on the διακον- terms in vol.  2 of Kittel’s Theological Dictionary of 1935. My studies, along with those of Hentschel, have, by contrast, established not only that activities designated as diakonic in one way or another are all in fact activities carried out according to a mandate and never imply benevolence, but also that any such designated activities are not inherently lowly. The literature surveyed in chapter 6 of Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources 22 – to take just one tranche of the literary usage – provides ample evidence of the broad sweep of agents identified in those sources. Apart from numerous philosophical considerations on such matters as the human voice transmitting ideas and the moon transmitting the sun’s light – these being διακον- verbs – human agents (διακον-) appear in the persons of Rachel, Athenian politicians and generals, Roman military officers and procurators, the patriarch Joseph’s palace steward, the prophet Samuel, God’s own angels, and the daemons through whom God manages the universe.

5. Among “the Great Ones” Of particular relevance to the scene in the royal court at Matt 25:31–32 is Greek usage of διακον- terms in the context of the households and courts of those designated by Mark’s gospel as “great ones” (10:42).23 The reference we will focus on is service at table, if only because, as has been noted, this is normally considered the basic reference or “fundamental meaning” of all διακον- terms; in fact, however, the διακον- terms have no identifiable (or translatable) “original meaning,” and perhaps the preceding sampling of usage has already suggested something along this line. An eloquent introduction to table usage is Philo’s comparison of the classic Greek symposium with the gathering of the Jewish guild of Therapeutae. This occurs in his De vita contemplativa. Here Philo paid particular attention to the style and quality of the Jewish attendants, a large part of his aim being to bring 20  Gerhard Ludwig Müller, Priestertum und Diakonat, Der Empfänger des Weihesakramen­ tes in schöpfungstheologischer und christologischer Perspektive (Freiburg: Johannes Verlag, 2000), 152. See further about this connection in John N. Collins, Gateway to Renewal (Melbourne: Morning Star, 2016), ch. 6: “A litany of errors in ITC document.” 21  Ernst Dassmann, Ämter und Dienste in den frühchristlichen Gemeinden (Bonn: Boren­ gässer, 1994). 22 Collins, Diakonia, 133–49. 23  The material reported here is again selected from Collins, Diakonia, 150–68.

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out the highly religious character of the Jewish gathering in contrast to the dissolute practices of the Greeks. The following is an edited extract (with διακονterms identified):24 [64] I will oppose to the Greeks the entertainments of those persons who have devoted their whole life and themselves to the knowledge and contemplation of the affairs of nature in accordance with the most sacred admonitions and precepts of the prophet Moses. They come together clothed in white garments, and joyful with the most exceeding gravity, and before they sit down to meat, standing in order in a row, and raising their eyes and their hands to heaven, they pray to God that the entertainment may be acceptable. And the order in which they sit down to meat is a divided one, the men sitting on the right hand and the women apart from them on the left; at all times and in all places they practice a liberal, gentlemanlike kind of frugality, hating the allurements of pleasure with all their might. And they do not use the ministrations [70: διακον- ] of slaves, looking upon the possession of servants to be a thing absolutely and wholly contrary to nature, for nature has created all men free. Accordingly in this sacred entertainment there is, as I have said, no slave [71: δοῦλος], but free men minister [71: διακονέω] to the guests, performing the offices of servants [71: διακον- ] not under compulsion, nor in obedience to any imperious commands, but of their own voluntary free will, with all eagerness and promptitude anticipating all orders, for they are not any chance free men who are appointed to perform these duties, but young men who are selected from their order with all possible care on account of their excellence; and they come in to perform their service ungirdled, and with their tunics let down, in order that nothing which bears any resemblance to a slavish appearance may be introduced into this festival.

Such an elaborate context and dedicated rhetoric exhibit just what it is that the διακον- terms contribute to this scene and what the scene says to us about the semantic role of διακον-. Whereas the Greeks degrade their symposium through the use of slaves, no shadow of slavery falls across the διακονία carried out by the young carefully selected Jewish men. Indeed, we easily discern that this διακονία contributes mightily to the elite and pious elegance of the occasion, enhancing rather than detracting from the nobility of the young men. The way they go about the duties of their διακονία embodies what had once been the ideal of the ancient Greeks. Philo’s readers would have no difficulty in recognizing that the proceedings were appropriately designated διακονία. The same quality pertains to usage within a large body of material not necessarily referencing waiting at tables but including other activities by attendants within the courts of royalty and of other great personages, thereby further illustrating the character of the usage employed in regard to the διακον- verb at Matt 25:44. Thus in the courts of heaven, Lucian presents Ganymede attending on Zeus (DDeorum 4.4), as do also Hebe and Hephaestus (5.2), while Hermes 24  Adapting the online 19th century translation: Charles D. Yonge, On the contemplative life of suppliants in The Works of Philo Judaeus: The contemporary of Josephus (trans. from the Greek; London: Bohn, 1854–1890), http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/yonge/book34. html.

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a­ ttends on Hercules and Dionysus (24.2); a fragment of Strato (APL 12.194) presents a youth transported to the home of the gods “for ministrations (διακον-) to the blessed ones [of glorious nectar].” Among mere mortals, Athenaeus, who constructed a large depository of Greek customs at symposia, insisted that the ancients had maintained the appropriate procedures for invoking the presence of the gods at their banquets. In his Deipnosophistae (or Wise Men at Table) he wrote (192b): With the ancients the only reason for gathering to drink wine was religion, and any garlands, hymns or songs they used were in keeping with this, and the one who was to do the waiting (διακον- ) was never a slave, rather young sons of free men would pour the wine […] just as we read in fair Sappho of Hermes pouring wine for the gods.

Significantly, in a work that reports frequent interventions of waiters at work, Athenaeus reserves the διακον- terms to explicitly religious contexts. The same religious dimension is evident in the public monuments recording the names of those who performed διακονία at festivals.25 Elsewhere in literature we encounter numerous references by means of διακον- to royal and princely courts. Suffice to mention διακονία of tables in the context of Augustus being entertained by Vedius Pollio (Dio Cassius 54.23.4); the white raiment and careful toiletry of attendants in the Persian court (Heraclides, FHG. 2.96), the διακονία in the court of Cotys, king of Thrace (Plutarch, Mor. 174d), and διάκονοι in the court of a tyrant and in the household of a polemarch (Xenophon, Hiero 4.2; Historia Graeca 3.4.6). The usage features also in reports by Josephus about events in Pharaoh’s court (AJ 2.65); the courts of King Saul (6.52); Amnon, the Davidic prince (7.165); King Solomon (8.169); King Belshazzar of Babylon (10.242); King Xerxes of Persia (11.163,166); King Artaxerxes (11.188); King Herod (15.224); King Agrippa (18.193).26 In accord with usage in these passages, the Septuagint Book of Esther records several instances (1:10; 2:2; 6:1,3,5), these being of additional interest in that, apart from them and three other instances (Prov 10:4a; 1 Macc 11:58; 4 Macc 9:17), the Septuagint does not employ the word group. The ground for this striking absence of the terms is, in my view, the correlation between the usage and Hellenistic religious culture. A later instance from Clement of Alexandria (c. 200 C.E.) illustrates how readily the ancient Greek speaker recognised the correlation intended by an author between διακον- and royalty. Commenting on the angels ministering (διακον- ) to Jesus in the desert (Mark 1:13), Clement wrote, “as if he were already a real king.”27

25 Collins,

Diakonia, 166–68. See further Collins, Diakonia, 154–64. 27  Exc. 4.85; Trans. http://stephanus.tlg.uci.edu. 26 

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6. The Diakonia of “the Accursed” In the light of the semantic profile of the διακον- terms that the preceding overview of ancient sources suggests, it is not difficult to see why the Greek author of the parable should have drawn upon the διακον- verb for the purpose of designating the activity of the “accursed” people who had prided themselves on being attendants in a royal court. The διακον- term that suddenly intrudes into the narrative is wholly appropriate in the context of attendants pleading with their king to take into account the high and exclusive attention they know they had given him. The situation lends itself to a paraphrase in more conventional modern terms. The condemned attendants are in shock, indeed, in terror, and exclaim, “Your Majesty, when was it that we did not comply with any of your demands upon us?” The lesson to be taken from the scene is thus nothing associated with the διακον- term itself. That term merely identifies the relationship between the royal attendants and the king. They are now learning that their dedication to the king had blinded them to their responsibilities within the kingdom, namely, to fellow members in need. The modern theological/ethical construct of diakonia can take nothing for its enrichment from the occurrence of the διακον- verb at Matt 25:44. The term is simply part of the royal décor. As such, however, it adds powerfully to the intensity of the teaching in this scene that nothing should distract the Son of Man’s followers from attending to the needs of those around them. How this is to be done in social circumstances of changing eras is not for discussion here. Relevant, however, is a reminder of difficulties attending any attempt to change understandings of foundational texts when alternative views have been in place across several generations inspiring the development and consolidation of – in our case – a churchwide “diakonic” culture.

7. Conclusion: Diakonia and Diakonie Confronting this issue, Anni Hentschel graciously concedes that, although διακονία does not signify loving service of neighbour, the 19th century institutions of diakonia arising from that mistaken understanding had nonetheless heightened the awareness of love of neighbour.28 Exploring the same problem, which is acute in the German language and within German religious culture, Hans-Jürgen Benedict, who first publicised in Germany the re-interpretation of 28  Anni Hentschel, “Diakonie in der Bibel,” in Diakoniefibel: Grundwissen für alle, die mit Diakonie zu tun haben (eds. Klaus-Dieter K. Kottnik and Eberhard Hauschildt; Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlag, 2008), 20.

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διακονία, 29 could come to no satisfactory resolution, concluding only, “there is no going back” from the re-interpretation.30 Interestingly, while Benedict registers the import of the courtly διακον- term for an understanding of the parable,31 he does not attempt to find a German alternative for “Diakonie,” whereas Rüegger and Sigrist, throughout their book and in deference to the re-interpretation, replace “Diakonie” with “Handeln” (although they offer no comment on διακον- in our passage).32 More frankly and, it would sadly seem, more realistically, the editors of the large Dutch collection Diaconie in beweging, which contains a lengthy survey by Bart Koet of διακον- usage in the New Testament from the point of view of the re-interpretation, advised readers in regard to “the so-called ‘Collins-debate’”: In this book we propose to proceed on the understanding of the term “diaconate/diaconia” as the church’s response to people in need […] starting from the idea that such service constitutes an essential part of what being church is.33

If the passage in Matthew purports to tell us what that church is to do, the church needs to be clear on what διακονία designates and what it does not.

29 Hans-Jürgen Benedict, “Beruht der Anspruch der evangelischen Diakonie auf eine Missinterpretation der Antiken Quellen? John N. Collins Untersuchung ‘Diakonia,’” Pastoraltheologie 89 (2000): 343–64. 30  Hans-Jürgen Benedict, “Diakonie als Dazwischengehen und Beauftragung. Die Collins-­ Debatte aus der Sicht ihres Anstoßgebers,” in H.-J. Benedict, Barmherzigkeit und Diakonie. Von der rettenden Liebe zum gelingenden Leben (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2008), 129–37, 136. 31  Benedict, “Diakonie als Dazwischengehen,” 135. 32  Heinz Rüegger and Christoph Sigrist, Diakonie – eine Einführung (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 2011), 69. 33  Hub Crijns and Herman Noordegraaf, “Inleiding” in Diaconie in beweging: Handboek Diaconiewetenschap (eds. Hub Crijns et al.; Kampen: Kok, 2011), 10–15, 13 (my translation); see Bart J. Koet, “Exegetische kanttekeningen over diakonia in het Nieuwe Testament,” in Diaconie in beweging, 69–96.

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts  6:1–7 A Lukan Diptych on Διακονία Bart J. Koet

Before writing his classic works, Karl Marx made a journey to Great Britain and the Netherlands. On this journey his encounter with the poverty arising out of the industrial revolution prompted deeper reflection. The result of his experience is well known. Around the same time, another German journeyed to the Netherlands and Great Britain. This was Theodor Fliedner (1800–1864). But the response of Fliedner to the poverty of the period differed from that of Marx. On returning to his homeland, Fliedner founded a movement for women who would care for forsaken children, the disheartened poor, and for prisoners. Inspired by Acts  6 , he called these women deaconesses.1 Eventually, and in large part as a result of Fliedner’s initiative, διακονία (“service”) became a general term for merciful and loving assistance.

1. Lexicography In his linguistic study of διακονία, the Australian scholar John N. Collins argued that this pastoral endeavor, and its success among German Lutherans, led to the linguistic study of Wilhelm Brandt which presented διακονία in early Christian writings as a specific and distinctive expression of the Christian conception of service.2 In a highly influential and widely cited study by Hermann W. Beyer, Brandt’s ideas were broadly disseminated.3 Collins has accurately recorded how this definition of διακονία as Christian service became an accept1  On Fliedner, see Martin Gerhardt, Theodor Fliedner: Ein Lebensbild (2 vols.; Düsseldorf-­ Kaiserswerth: Buchhandlung der Diakonissen-Anstalt, 1933–1937); Anna Sticker, Theodor Fliedner (Düsseldorf: Diakoniewerk Kaiserswerth, 61975). 2 Wilhelm Brandt, Dienst und Dienen im Neuen Testament (Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1931), see John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 11. 3  Hermann. W. Beyer, “διακονέω κτλ,” in TWNT 2 (1935), 81–93; Engl. trans.: TDNT 2 (1964), 81–93.

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ed fact of Christian lexicography, with the result that neologisms like the ­German “Diakonie” began to appear.4 In recent decades, both in churches and theology, the word diakonia is often synonymous with lowly service either within the church or expressed more broadly towards the needy in society. In theological discourse, diakonia became a general word for merciful and loving assistance. Collins, however, opposes such a signification. In his study he analyses usage of the Greek διακον-words in the literature of antiquity. Through meticulous research into the meaning of the διακον- clusters in ancient literature, the extent to which the “Christian” Greek of the NT differs from common early usage becomes clear. In two appendices to his book, Collins provides a survey of the possible uses of the διακον-words in the NT.5 The first meaning for the noun διακονία provided by the Theologisches Wörter­ buch zum Neuen Testament is “waiting at table” with “a rather wider sense ‘provision for bodily sustenance.’”6 The second usage recorded is “‘discharge of service’ in genuine love.” The third usage is described as “discharge of certain obligations in the community” (for example, the office of being an apostle). A fourth quite specific usage is given in relation to the collection for Jerusalem and is depicted as “a true act of love” (Rom  15:30–32; 2 Cor  8:1–6, esp.  8:4; 9:1,12–15). For the verb διακονέω, TDNT explains that the first meaning is “in the original sense of ‘to wait at table,’” while the second represents a change to “the wider sense of ‘to be serviceable.’”7 In third place, the verb is rendered generally as “to serve.” But in TDNT we see in regard to the verb an emphasis on the aspect of lowly, caring service. To show that serving and being happy cannot go together, Beyer quotes from a dialogue of Plato: “How can a man be happy when he has to serve someone?” (Gorg. 491e). However, the verb used here is δουλέω and not διακονέω. Such a low estimation of the meaning of service among pre-Christian Greeks allows Beyer to envisage a higher value of service among early Christians influenced, as it is, by the “loving service/diakonia” evident in the life and death of Jesus. According to Beyer, as a result, Christian use of διακονέω represents a whole new semantic field. The consequence of Beyer’s linguistic study was a taken-for-granted interpretation of διακονία as lowly, caring service. As already noted, Collins has seriously questioned any such assumption. He examined the διακον- words against the background of Greek literary activity across 800 years in the classi4 Collins,

Diakonia, 11. 335–57. 6  For the four meanings mentioned in this paragraph, see TDNT 2, 87–88. 7  Ibid., 2.84–85. Beyer argues that the concept of “waiting at tables” underlies all other usages in the NT: “The same change in evaluation as we find in respect of waiting at table applies everywhere in the NT to διακονέω in the wider sense of “to be serviceable.” Sometimes the link with waiting at table may still be discerned (for example, Luke 8:3).” Ibid., 2.85. 5  Ibid.,

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cal and Hellenistic eras. Collins’ most important conclusion is that the Greek διακον- terms were “floaters.”8 Context determines the sense of each instance and, as Collins puts it, “to come closer to what the Greek word said to the Greek mind we need to reach out into the range of ideas it is associated with.”9 He adds, “To know a word, it helps to know the company it keeps.” In light of this methodology, Collins concludes that the διακον- terms were not used specifically to express a notion of loving and caring service. Rather, because of their in­ determinate character, the terms can assume a variety of contexts. They occur in Plato as designations of commercial functions (Resp.  370e) because of their capacity to connote the idea of exchange. Similarly, however, Plato calls divination “part of a ‘diakonic’ skill” because the diviner, as an interpreter of the gods, is also engaged in a process of exchange (Pol. 290c–d).10 However, the verb can also designate the carrying out of orders and the performance of deeds.11 These deeds vary widely between such things as contract killings and waiting on others at a meal or banquet. It seems possible to find a common denominator in this range of activities by describing them as being of an “in-between” kind. Central notions expressed by διακονία might cluster around notions of “mediation, intercession, agency, and mission in the name of a principal.” Thus the notion of “mandate” can be prominent.12 Commensurate with this is the fact that the διακον- words often designate honorable tasks of duty or office. Such a usage was not part of everyday language but had a more formal character and included a recognisable place in religious contexts. In the years after its publication, Collins’ stimulating study caused, in some theological circles, a small landslide.13 The material he has collected is extensive 8  In his discussion of Plato, Collins even refers to the word diakonos as a “colourless” term (Diakonia, 79, subsection heading). However, he shows that quite often, according to context, διακον- can introduce quite strong colour to a particular context: there can be mutual interchange between the term and the context, the one “colouring” the other. He later refers to a quite telling example (ibid., 106) and argues that diakonia can designate Constantine’s mission from God to extend the sway of Christian truth. 9  This quotation and the next are from Collins, Diakonia, 3. 10  Ibid., 77–89 (on Plato’s use of diakonos). 11  Ibid., 89. 12  In a certain sense this definition resembles the descriptions given in an older lexicon like Carolus Gottlieb Bretschneider, Lexicon manuale Graeco-Latinum in libros Novi Testamenti, I (Leipzig: 1829), where the entry for διάκονος says that a deacon is cursor, qui mittititur ut nunciet, faciat, adportet aliquid (“a runner who is sent to announce or do or bring something”). See also LSJ, 398 (on διάκονος). 13 See Anton Houtepen, “Diakonia als Einladung Gottes. Über den Diakonat als eine missionarische und katechumenale Aufgabe,” Diaconia Christi 30/3–4 (1995): 33–45; for διακονία in 2 Corinthians, see Reimund Bieringer, “Paul’s Understanding of Diakonia in 2 Corinthians 5,18,” in Studies on 2 Corinthians (eds. Reimund Bieringer and Jan Lambrecht; Leuven: Peeters, 1994), 413–28; see also Dieter Georgi, The Opponents of Paul in Second ­Corinthians: A Study of Religious Propaganda in Late Antiquity (Studies in the New Testament & Its World; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1986).

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and well-documented. His book is important not only for the exegesis of the NT but for all disciplines depending on such study, for example, ecclesiology. The work deserves wide discussion in theological circles, part of which would obviously comprise the testing of his theses in passages of the NT. In this article I will use Collins’ book as background to my investigations of Luke-Acts. However, although I share Collins’ main thesis that διακονία is not merely a designation of merciful and loving assistance to the needy, I do not share his interpretation of διακονία in Acts  6. One reason for this is that Collins has not dealt with the relationship between Acts  6 and Luke 10; a relationship essential to the right reading of the passage. In this article I will use the research of Collins that focuses on διακονία in Acts  6. Starting with a summary of his thesis regarding Acts  6 ,14 I will develop the argument by focusing on the relationship between Luke 10:25–42 and Acts  6:1–7. Some commentators have already established a connection between these two passages, and I would like to examine the implications of that connection more closely and within the specific terms of our own question. Within this context, I will try to show that in the two passages Luke (as I will call the author of Luke-Acts) makes a connection between the ministry of the word and the ministry of deeds. Such a connection will be seen to resemble comparable discussions in the later rabbinic tradition concerning the relation between studying and doing.

2. Acts  6:1–7 as a Narrative about Ministry of the Word within the Book of Acts Although quite clearly connected to the context, Acts  6:1–7 is, relatively speaking, a literary unity.15 This unity is above all apparent from the correspondence between 6:1 and 6:7. These notes on the growth of the number of disciples constitute a literary inclusion, but alongside such similarities there is also one important difference: it seems that the growth mentioned in 6:1 was itself the reason for the problems. Acts  6:7 suggests that the solution of the problem leads to further growth. It is significant that 6:1 is the first place in Acts to use the term ὁί μαθηταὶ (“the disciples”). In the Gospel of Luke this term serves to describe the followers of Jesus. Because Jesus is a teacher, his followers are supposed to learn from him. The summary in Acts  6:7 repeats the theme of the growth of the disciples (mentioned both in 6:1 and in 6:2). This indicates that the growth of Jesus’ teaching concerning the Word of God is one of the primary themes of this 14 

See Collins, Diakonia, 230–32, and the notes about usage on 329. For the context and literary unity of this passage, see Ralph Neuberth, Demokratie im Volk Gottes: Untersuchungen zur Apostelgeschichte (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2001), 20–34. 15 

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passage. Related to the remarks about the spreading of the Word of God, is the pronouncement of the apostles that they will give themselves continually to διακονία of the Word (6:2). The corresponding verses 6:1 and 6:7 frame a story on the installation of the Seven. In literature it is often argued that this story has quite a few remini­ scences to comparable stories from the OT. Thus, Ralph Neuberth describes Acts  6:1–7 as an installation story,16 and OT parallels include Gen 41:29–43; Exod 8:13–26; Num 11:1–25; 27:15–23; and Deut 1:9–18.17 An installation story can be divided into three phases: first, a certain need is recognised in leadership; second, a solution is proposed (in direct speech); and third, the solution is effected by the installation of wise persons as substitutes or assistants to the leader(s). Because of the limitations of this article I will not deal extensively with the structure of OT background models for this passage.18 However, the fact that OT installation stories are quite clearly presupposed as background to Acts  6:1– 7 helps us to interpret this passage. The OT models suggest that in Acts  6:1–7 the service at stake is more like serving as a minister to the Crown than as an attendant in a soup kitchen. Just as Joseph became minister of Pharaoh, just as the seventy are made rulers assisting Moses, and just as the seventy are made prophets, so the seven men in Acts are installed to a public function under someone’s direction, as ministers of the apostles and as prophets of the Word of the Lord. Our investigation of the use of the term διακονία in Acts  6:1–7 will corroborate this interpretation.19 In his 1990 book, Collins argues that with regard to Acts  6:1–7, Luke uses the semantic field διακον- to frame and comment upon the important statement he 16 Neuberth, Demokratie im Volk Gottes, 54: “Ingesamt weist Apg 6,1–7 aber auch erheb­ liche Analogien zur Gattung der atl. Bestallungserzählung bzw. zum Einsetzungsbericht auf, auch wenn sich die atl. Parallelen meist etwas umfangreicher präsentieren.” 17 Rudolf Pesch, Die Apostelgeschichte (Apg 1–12) (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1986), 225–26. For a comparison between the vocabulary of Acts  6:1–7 and the passages in the LXX, see Neuberth, Demokratie im Volk Gottes, 53–64, esp.  56–64. For the laying-on of hands, see Joseph Coppens, “L’imposition des mains dans les Actes des Apôtres,” in Les ­Actes des Apôtres: Traditions, rédaction, théologie (ed. Jacob Kremer; Leuven: Peeters, 1979), 405–38. 18  See also David Daube, “A Reform in Acts and Its Models,” in Jews, Greeks, and Christians (eds. Robert Hammerton-Kelly and Robin Scroggs; Leiden: Brill, 1976), 151–63, here 152–53. He argues that the narrative of Acts  6:1–7 is influenced by three OT stories, describing the installation of judges (Exod 18), the seventy elders (Num 11:24–30), and the officers of the tribes (Deut 1). Regarding Acts  6:1 he says, that “‘murmuring’ definitely is not an ordinary term. It recalls the situation in Exodus and Numbers, especially Num 11:1, where the people murmured. The grievance of the people concerns the provision of food, and so, apparently, does the grievance in Acts; compare ‘daily diakonia’ with collection of Manna (Exod 16:5: ‘for day unto day’).” 19  Here there is no space to deal with the use of the verb διακονέω in Luke-Acts (where Luke 22:24–27 is especially important). But see Bart J. Koet & Wendy E.S. North, “The Image of Martha in Luke 10.38–42 and in John 11.1–12.8,” in Miracles and Imagery in Luke and John (eds. Gilbert van Belle et al.; FS Ulrich Busse: Leuven: Peeters, 2008), 47–66.

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is making about development and change. In Acts  1:17,25 the word διακονία ­designates a function that can be interpreted as synonymous with apostleship (1:25).20 In Acts  6 , in a context of “ministry” and “ministering,” Luke returns to the theme of the Twelve and introduces the new theme of the Seven. Because of the solemn character of Acts  6:4 it seems that here διακονία also refers to apostleship. Collins argues that if we are to think that Luke is writing only about the “daily distribution of food” (6:1 NIV; in Greek: διακονία) then there is a surprising inconsistency with the previous and more solemn sense.21 Translations of the διακον- terms here as “distribution” (6:1), “to give out food” and “to wait at table” (6:2) do not seem to harmonise with the more formal meaning of διακονία in 6:4. Collins argues that in 6:1 as well as in 6:4 διακονία indicates a duty, a public function under someone’s direction. In his later books Collins elaborates on this interpretation.22 In Acts  6:1 we read: “because their widows [i. e., of the Hellenists!] were neglected in the daily ministration” (KJV; διακονία). In modern translations of Acts  6:1–7 the Greek word διακονία appears as a broad range of activities from something like a soup kitchen to the apostolic preaching: “(a) a distribution of food to needy widows; (b) the activity of serving this food at tables; and (c) the prime responsibility of the Twelve.”23 As mentioned above, Collins suggests that in Acts, Luke uses the διακονwords as code words for the ministry (διακονία) in the sense of “sacred commissions of one kind or another.”24 His ancient audience would relate διακονία in Acts to other kinds of Greek historical and romantic narrative where διακονία held the same connotations.25 In Acts, the word marks major stages in the spread of the Word of God (Acts  1:17,25; 6:4; 20:24; 21:19).26 If this is so, it is hard to believe that in Acts  6:1 the translation “distribution of food” does justice to this concept.27 Accordingly, Collins sketches a different interpretation. He argues that in Acts  6, the Greek-speaking members of the community complained against those who spoke Aramaic that their own housebound or shut-in widows were being overlooked in the great preaching that was going on day by day in the environment of the Temple. This is related to the preceding verse (5:42), where we learn that the apostles did not cease to teach daily in the Temple and 20 Collins,

Diakonia, 213. Ibid., 230. 22  John N. Collins, Deacons and the Church: Making Connections between Old and New (Leominster, UK: Gracewing, 2002), 47–58; see John N. Collins, Are All Christians Ministers? (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1992), 36–40. 23 Collins, Deacons and the Church, 50. 24  Ibid., 57. 25 Ibid. 26  Ibid., 54. 27  Likewise, he argues that διακονία in Acts  11:29 and 12:25 does not refer to help for those in need, but indicates a formal mission, and both accounts include some other indications as to the formal character of the undertaking (ibid., 66–68). 21 

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in every “house.” Collins claims a firm connection between 5:42 and Acts  6. Just as in Acts  5 (5:12,18,29,40), in Acts  6:2 the apostles are the protagonists. Because these Greek-speaking widows were without the same freedoms enjoyed by the Jewish women, they were, according to Collins, not free to attend the gatherings in the Temple and he also supposes that they could not understand the apostles. Thus, these widows were in need of preachers who could teach them in Greek when, as Greek-speakers, they came together at their tables (6:2).28 The Seven are the new group of preachers; they guarantee the increase of the Word: according to Collins, that is what their service at table constitutes. Collins’ argumentation is original and compelling. Part of the scenario of Luke’s Gospel is Jesus’ long journey through Israel to Jerusalem. Indeed, this is one of the most distinctive features of his gospel. In Acts there is a comparable movement: the long journey of the Word through the world, with Rome as its aim (and new beginning: Acts  28:16–31; see 19:21 and 23:11). Collins rightly stresses that Acts  6 represents a crucial phase in this journey and that the Seven, as a new group of preachers, make a decisive contribution to this continuity. Concerning Collins’ argumentation, I do have some questions. To me it seems more appropriate to assume that the widows in Acts  6 are Jewish, albeit Greek speaking.29 It is quite common to say that by Acts  6 the mission among the Gentiles had not yet emerged as an issue, since this mission starts a little bit later. After the spreading of Jesus’ teaching exclusively among Jews comes Philip’s preaching among the Samaritans (Acts  8:1–5). The move to “the Gentiles” unfolds in the sequence of Acts, beginning with Peter’s visit to Cornelius.30 However, it seems to me that Collins has it right when he refers to the fact that language does play a role in this passage. It is no accident that in 6:9 there is reference to the synagogues of diaspora communities. Regarding Collins’ treatment of διακονία in Acts  6:1, I do have some further reservations. I think that some material care for the widows is at stake in this story. Within the limitations of this article I will elaborate only one argument. This will be to claim that the interpretation of Acts  6:1–7 could be more reliably 28 “As speakers of Greek and, further, as widows without the same freedom as Jewish women to take part in the kind of public life that temple worship was, they were neither free to attend the large gatherings in the temple forecourts nor linguistically equipped to understand what these Aramaic preachers were saying.” Ibid., 57. 29  It seems to me that this is exactly the reason for Collins’ supposition that they were bound by Greek custom in regard to appearing in public places. I am not so sure that these Greek-speaking Jewish women in Jerusalem would have had less freedom of movement than other Jewish women. For a more general picture, see Shmuel Safrai, “Relations between the Diaspora and the Land of Israel,” in The Jewish People in the First Century: Historical Geogra­ phy, Political History, Social, Cultural and Religious Life and Institutions (eds. Shmuel Safrai and Menachem Stern; Assen: van Gorcum, 1974), 184–215. 30  See Bart J. Koet, Five Studies on Interpretation of Scripture in Luke-Acts (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1989), 143–50; Günter Wasserberg, Aus Israels Mitte – Heil für die Welt (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1998), 273–305.

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developed in light of a parallel text in the Gospel of Luke, the previously mentioned pericope 10:38–42.31 In approaching this, I will show how in both passages we are presented with a discussion about the relationship between learning and doing.32

3. Luke 10:38–42 Luke 10:38–42 is part of a larger unit. When we compare the Gospel of Mark with that of Luke, two well-known features emerge. First is “the great omission”: the text of Mark 6:45–8:26 does not appear in Luke 9:17–18. Whereas Luke’s multiplication of bread (ending at Luke 9:17) is parallel to Mark 6:30–44, and Peter’s confession in Luke (beginning at Luke 9:18) parallels Mark 8:27–30, between these two pericopes Mark 6:45–8:26 deals quite extensively with dietary laws and with certain remarkable words and actions of Jesus (including Jesus’ voyage to non-Jewish land in Mark 7:24–31). The second important feature in Luke’s Gospel is the so-called “great interpolation” (Luke 9:51–19:28). Since Friedrich Schleiermacher, the name of the middle section of Luke’s Gospel in exegetical literature has been the “Travel Narrative.”33 In an interesting study, Reinhard von Bendemann raises questions about the correctness of this 31  The connection between the two passages is already noted in exegetical literature. Here I refer to an article of Veronica Koperski (although she does not offer an exegesis of these passages): “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts  6 ,1–7: Women and Discipleship in the Literary Context of Luke-Acts,” in The Unity of Luke-Acts (ed. Joseph Verheyden; Leuven: Peeters, 1999), 517– 44. On the connection between Luke 10:38–42 and Acts  6 , Koperski refers to Birger Gerhardsson, Memory and Manuscript: Oral Tradition and Written Transmission in Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity (Uppsala: Gleerup, 1961), 234–45, esp.  239–41. Gerhardsson is one of the few scholars to mention that both texts deal with comparable problems: occupation with the Word of God is placed on a higher level than mundane duties. Neuberth (Demokratie im Volk Gottes, 36–39), does show some word parallels, but stresses above all the opposition between service of the Word (Wortdienst) and table service (Tischdienst). 32 In A Feminist Companion to Luke (ed. Amy-Jill Levine; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), we find three articles on Luke 10:38–42: 1) Loveday C. Alexander, “Sisters in Adversity: Retelling Martha’s Story,” 197–213; 2) Warren Carter, “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen,” 215–31; 3) Pamela Thimmes, “The Language of Community: A Cautionary Tale (Luke 10:38–42),” 232–45. These authors do not pay much attention to the connections between Luke 10:38–42 and Acts  6:1–7. However, Carter (“Getting Martha out of the Kitchen,” 220–23) does signal the fact that the use of diakonia in Luke 10:40 is connected to the use in Acts  6:1–4 and that this connection indicates that in 10:40 diakonia does not necessarily mean a preoccupation with kitchen tasks. He argues that Acts  6 and the subsequent narrative show the futility of attempting to differentiate rigidly between these two types of ministry. 33  Friedrich Schleiermacher, Über die Schriften des Lukas: Ein kritischer Versuch, I (Berlin: 1817), 161; see Adelbert Denaux, “Old Testament Models for the Lukan Travel Narrative: A Critical Survey,” in The Scriptures in the Gospels (ed. Christopher M. Tuckett; Leuven: Peeters, 1997), 271–330. For an account of historical-critical research into the Lucan Travel Narrative, see Filip Noël, The Travel Narrative in the Gospel of Luke: Interpretation of Lk 9,51–19,28 (Brussels: Voor Wetenschappen en Kunsten, 2004).

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designation.34 He argues that, especially in regard to Luke 11:1–18:30, other themes are more important than travelling, such as the instruction of the dis­ ciples, the call to repentance, and judgement announcements.35 Though relying on them, the following discussion cannot take von Bendemann’s ideas further. In Luke 10:38–42, a certain motif draws attention to a theme of “learning” that can be of decisive importance for the interpretation of this pericope.36 Learning is not an insignificant aspect of the preceding passage either. In the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25–37), a certain lawyer comes with a question about “doing”: “Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” In response, Jesus asks: “What is written in the Law: How readest thou?” (10:26 KJV). The lawyer answers (10:27) by combining a quotation from Deut 6:5 with one from Lev 19:18: “Love thy neighbour as thyself.”37 The first command stresses the love of YHWH by means of a total personal response with the four faculties of an individual (heart, soul, might, and mind). The love of God is a quite significant Deuteronomic theme.38 Jesus announces that the lawyer has given the right answer and adds: “Do this and you shall live” (10:28). Doing and thus living (sometimes even in combination with learning) is also quite a promi­ nent Deuteronomic theme.39 But in 10:28, the interchange between the lawyer and Jesus is not yet over. The man comes up with another question: “Who is my neighbour?” Jesus ans­ wers by telling the familiar story, at the end of which the word “doing” is again significantly present. To Jesus’ question (“Which of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?”), the lawyer replies: “He that did (ποίει) mercy unto him.” Jesus concludes: “Go, and do thou likewise” (10:37 KJV). In this passage we can see a relation between interpretation of the Torah (ἐν τῷ νόμῳ, 10:26) and praxis; between learning and doing. These elements are quite clear Deuteronomic features. Indeed, a Deuteronomic element in this Lucan story is the actualisation of Deuteronomic wisdom, whereby doing leads to living.40 34  Reinhard von Bendemann, Zwischen ΔΟΞΑ und ΣΤΑΥΡΟΣ: Eine exegetische Untersuchung der Texte des sogenannten Reiseberichts im Lukasevangelium (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2001). 35  For an extensive review of von Bendemann’s book, see Noël, Travel Narrative, 208– 353. 36  On the coherence of these passages see Ulrich Busse, “Die Unterweisung im sogenannten ‘Reisebericht.’ Dargestellt an Lk 10,25–42,” in Die Weisheit – Ursprünge und Rezeption (eds. Martin Fassnacht et al.; Münster: Aschendorff, 2003), 139–53. 37  It is well-known that this verse is one of the most important texts within Judaism. 38  See, for example, Deut 11:13,22; 19:9; 30:16. 39  Deut 4:1; 5:1–3; 6:24–25; 8:1; 11:8; 12:1; 31:12–13. 40  Between the composition of Deuteronomy and the rise of the NT, most of Israel’s wisdom literature came into being. Although there is not so much overt appeal to the traditions of Israel, there are some parallels, such as between Proverbs and other biblical books. An important locus of such parallels is the book of Deuteronomy, as has been shown by Moshe

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In the following pericope (Luke 10:38–42), a relationship between doing and learning is also at stake, but this time from a different angle.41 On his journey to Jerusalem (see 9:51) a certain woman named Martha (which means something like “mistress”)42 receives Jesus in her home.43 Carter rightly argues that Martha thus appears here as an embodiment of the positive responses named throughout chapter 10: “In receiving Jesus, Martha is a child of peace (Luke 10:6) who has encountered God’s reign (Luke 10:9).”44 He adds that Martha’s receiving (ὑπεδέξατο) Jesus signifies an embracing of his eschatological mission: a fact evident from the six uses of dechomai prior to chapter 10 (see Luke 2:28; 8:13; 9:48 [4x]). It also expresses openness to the Word of God. Carter concludes that Martha appears as a model disciple in contrast to those who do not receive Jesus’ messengers (9:52–53; 10:10).45 This woman has a sister named Mary.46 Mary is firstly described as Martha’s sister and only after this receives her name. This construction and the beginning rhyme of these names (Martha and Mary) suggest that these two sisters have a special relation, and we will see that the attitudes they seem to represent are not oppositional but are in a relationship of kinship. Carter argues that Mary, like Martha, is responding in a positive way to Jesus. The verb used to denote her listening (10:39: ἤκουεν) appears in Luke 10:16 as an antonym for “rejecting” the disciples, Jesus, and God, and hence as a synonym for “receiving them” (see also Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic School (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972), 62–65. For Luke as using Deuteronomistic material, see David P. Moessner, Lord of the Banquet: The Literary and Theological Significance of the Lukan Travel Narrative (Minnea­ polis: Fortress, 1989). 41  Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke (2 vols.; Garden City: Doubleday, 1981–1985), 2:891, argues that this story is unrelated to the preceding passages. However, for their close connection with Luke 10:38–42, see Carter, “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen,” 216–18. 42 Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:893 and Koet & North, “The Image of Martha.” 43 Note that some important manuscripts underline Martha’s independent position by including the phrase “into the house” (P3 S) or “into her house” (A;D;W). 44  Carter, “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen,” 217. 45  Ibid., 218. It is interesting to note that Cyril of Alexandria in his homily on Luke 10:38– 42 (Hom. 69 In Lucam) sees this passage as a story about Christ as the one who is received; for the text, see Jean-Baptiste Chabot, S. Cyrilli Alexandrini Commentarii in Lucam, Pars Prior (Louvain: Imprimerie Orientaliste, 1961), 273–77. 46  Because of the limited objective of this article I cannot deal with the interesting role of this passage in feminist exegesis. Besides the articles previously noted in A Feminist Companion to Luke (ed. Amy-Jill Levine), see also Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (Engl. trans.; London: SCM, 1983), 165; for a critical review of her position, see John N. Collins, “Did Luke Intend a Disservice to Women in the Martha and Mary Story,” BTB 28/3 (1998): 104–11. For other literature from a feminist angle, see Turid Karlsen Seim, The Double Message: Patterns of Gender in LukeActs (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 97–118; Barbara E. Reid, Choosing the Better Part? Women in the Gospel of Luke (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1996), 144–62; Sabine Bieberstein, Verschwiegene Jüngerinnen – vergessene Zeuginnen: gebrochene Konzepte im Lukasevangelium (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 123–43.

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Luke 10:23–24). To hear is the desired response to Jesus and his teaching. Carter suggests that this indicates the joint participation of the sisters in the community of the disciples of Jesus.47 Mary sits down at the feet of “the Lord” (so P3 S) and is listening to his Word. Birger Gerhardsson suggests that she sits among the other disciples.48 To be “sitting at (his) feet” is to assume the position of a disciple at the feet of the master (see Luke 8:35), just as Paul declares that he was “brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel” (Acts  22:3).49 “Mistress/Boss” Martha is wheeling about with much serving.50 She is the one who receives Jesus as a guest (Luke 10:38). Her activities are summarised as “much serving” (πολλὴν διακονίαν).51 She reproaches Jesus: “Lord, dost thou not care that my sister left me to minister (διακονεῖν)?” (10:40 KJV).52 Jesus calls Martha twice by name. Elsewhere in Scripture, such a double naming can be the beginning of a call narrative, as in the case of Moses (Exod 3:4) and of the apostle Paul (Acts  9:4; 22:7; 26:14).53 Jesus answers her that she is being anxious (μεριμνᾷς) 54 and that she is troubled (θορυβάζῃ; NT hapax) about much, but that only one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen that good part which will not be taken away (οὐκ ἀφαιρεθήσεται) from her.55 From this we see that being a disciple, on the one hand, and being engaged in ministering and doing, on the other, seem to be in opposition: Mary is learning and Martha has a certain διακονία. Jesus stresses that listening to the “Word” (his teaching) is the good part.56 As Joseph Fitzmyer argues, in a way it is to repeat the Lucan message of 8:15,21.57 However, this is not to say that the status quo of the relationship between the sisters remains. Although the good part will not be taken from Mary, there is room left for Martha. She can become Jesus’ disciple too. In this story, 47 

Carter, “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen,” 218. Gerhardsson (Memory and Manuscript, 239) refers to Harald Riesenfeld’s observation that the formula ἣ καὶ (“who also”: not in all the manuscripts) seems to imply that she is not sitting alone at the feet of the Master, but with other disciples. 49  For comparable rabbinic usage see m. Abot 1:4. 50  For this translation, see also 10:40 Vulg.: Martha autem satagebat circa frequens ministerium (“Martha however was busied with constant serving”). It will be not coincidental that the verb περισπάω is often used in a military context, for instance, to describe the activities of a general (LSJ 1386). 51  Bieberstein (Verschwiegene Jüngerinnen, 137) rightly refers to the fact that in 10:38–42, Martha’s qualities are above all positive. As one of her arguments she uses the meaning of Martha’s name. 52  Here we find the same verb as in Acts  6 . 53  Compare the double naming of Abraham in Gen 22:11. 54  On this verb, see LSJ 1104. 55  The difficulty in interpreting (or digesting) this sentence is clear from the number of Greek textual variants; see Reid, Choosing the Better Part?, 149. 56  See Neuberth, Demokratie im Volk Gottes, 74. 57 Fitzmyer, Luke, 2.892; see Carter, “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen.” 48 

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Jesus emphasises that the learning process is the better part. This part cannot be taken away from anyone. This concurs to a certain extent with Jesus’ enigmatic pronouncement in Luke 19:26 KJV (// Matt 25:29): “Unto every one which has shall be given, and from him that has not, even that he has shall be taken away” (ἀρθήσεται; this Greek word is derived from the same root as in 10:42). Luke 10:38–42 can thus be considered – although to say so may be a slight exaggeration – as Martha’s call to discipleship. Martha’s work is certainly not to be described as lowly service. She is the mistress, the house-owner, the boss, who can receive such an important guest as Jesus, who can have the management of a house, and who dares to admonish her guest and to ask him to teach Mary a lesson. The opposition apparent in this is not an opposition between low work and high position; rather, the opposition is between doing and learning as two possible aspects of being a disciple.

4. Acts  6:1–7 as a Narrative about Ministry of the Word in Light of Luke 10:38–42 Martha’s occupation or business is described in Luke 10:40 by the Greek word διακονία. It is the only place in the gospels that this noun appears. However, in Acts (which, with most NT scholars, I regard as the sequel to the Gospel of Luke) it occurs eight times. The most important parallel to Luke 10:38–42 is Acts  6 where an opposition is at stake, resembling the one in Luke 10:38–42. In Acts  6 , the theme of murmuring recalls the people’s murmuring in the desert (Num 11:1). However, to a certain extent, reproaching is also part of the link between Acts  6:1–7 and Luke 10:38–42. Martha’s reproach of Jesus is one of the key elements in this episode and the occasion for Jesus’ answer. Apart from the parallel between themes, it is also important to note quite a few remarkable similarities between the words chosen in Acts  6:1–7 and those used in Luke 10:38–42. In her question to Jesus, Martha combines the verb διακονέω with the verb καταλείπω (“leave”).58 The latter verb appears in Matt 19:5 and Mark 10:7, the famous Genesis quotation regarding a man’s leaving of his parents and his cleaving to his wife. Elsewhere in the NT, καταλείπω occurs in other situations dealing with important choices. In Luke 5:28, Levi has to leave everything when he follows Jesus, while in 15:4 the shepherd leaves ninety-nine sheep in his choice for the lost sheep. To be sure, in Acts  6:2 and Luke 10:40 there is the important choice between two different forms of διακονία. In both passages the notion of “Word” is important: in Luke 10:39 it is indicating Jesus’ teaching, while in Acts  6:2,4,7 it refers to the teaching of the apostles. In 58 

NT.

This verb appears 4x in Matthew; 4x in Mark; 4x in Luke; 5x in Acts; 7x elsewhere in the

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both passages a crucial role is played by the word χρεία (“need” or “task”).59 Finally, in both texts we hear explicitly about choices: Mary chooses to be a disciple, while the whole multitude chooses (ἐκλέγω) 60 the seven men. The fact that Acts  6:1 is the first time that the term “disciple,” so well-known from the gospels, appears in Acts contributes to the whole context of learning (see also Acts  6:7). These similarities of vocabulary and theme between the two passages can be taken as an indication that Luke seems to have made a connection between them, thus inviting his readers to enter into a comparison. Thus, the passage Luke 10:38–42 (and its context) has to be interpreted by Acts  6:1–7 (and vice versa). This is, more often than not, Luke’s strategy. For example, he divides allusions and quotations among several phases of his story. In the presumed source of Luke 8:1–15 (namely Mark 4:1–20), we find an extended allusion to Isa 6:9 (see the quotation in Matt 13:14–15). Luke cuts this allusion down and postpones an elaborate use of the text to the last chapter of Acts by quoting Isa 6:9–10 in Acts  28:25c–27. 61 We can conclude that in both of our passages there is a comparable opposition or contrast. In Luke 10:38–42, Martha’s διακονία is more or less contrasted with the discipleship of Mary, while in Acts  6:1–7 the διακονία of the Word (Acts  6:4) is likewise contrasted with the “ministering of tables” (6:2). The introduction to the latter passage mentions that at a time of significant growth in the number of disciples there was “murmuring among the Hellenists” (γογγυσμὸς τῶν Ἑλληνιστῶν) against the “Hebrews.”62 The widows of the “Hellenists” were neglected in the daily διακονία. The apostles call the multitude of the disciples together and argue that it is not acceptable (or “pleasing”) that the apostles leave the Word in order to minister at tables. Therefore, the whole group has to look for seven men of honest report (boni testimonii in the Vulgate) whom the apostles, may appoint to meet this “need” (6:3). 63 The apostles themselves are planning to “adhere firmly” (προσκαρτερέω) 64 to prayer and to the διακονία of the Word (6:4); for adhering firmly to prayer, we may compare Acts  1:14 and 2:42. 65 59 

This noun occurs 7x in Luke; 5x in Acts; 37x elsewhere in the NT. This verb is present 1x Mark; 4x Luke; 5x John; 7x Acts; 5x elsewhere in the NT. 61 See Bart J. Koet, “Isaiah in Luke-Acts,” in Isaiah in the New Testament (eds. Steve ­Moyise and Maarten J. J. Menken; London: T&T Clark, 2005), 79–100, esp.  95–99; reprinted in Bart J. Koet, Dreams and Scripture in Luke-Acts: Collected Essays (Leuven: Peeters, 2006), 51–79. 62  For text-critical remarks and analysis of the structure of the passage, see Neuberth, Demokratie im Volk Gottes, 1–92. 63  For a discussion of Acts   6 , see Gottfried Schille, “Konfliktlösung durch Zuordnung: Der Tischdienst der Sieben nach Apg 6,” in Diakonie – biblische Grundlagen und Orientie­ rungen: Ein Arbeitsbuch (eds. Gerhard K. Schäfer and Theodor Strohm; Heidelberg: Winter, 3 1998), 243–59. 64  On this verb, see LSJ 1515. 65  Besides prayer, Acts  2:42 also mentions adhering firmly to the teaching of the apostles, 60 

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In Acts  6 , the διακονία of the Word and the ministering at tables are to a certain extent in competitive tension. Collins saw in the ministering at tables a kind of house-preaching to the Hellenists’ widows, who were in need of preachers who could teach them in Greek. However, the quite strong parallel with Luke 10:38–42 suggests something else. In that passage Martha’s διακονία – in other words, her being a mistress of the house – is opposed to Mary’s listening as a disciple to Jesus’ Word. Martha’s service is clearly not – as is quite often suggested – a housewifely job or, even worse, some work usually done by “slaves.” As the owner of the house, she is in charge and responsible for the material care of guests during Jesus’ visit (a quite clear “learning session”). 66 The apostles stress that the διακονία of the Word takes precedence, but not at the expense of the ministering of tables. In Acts  6 it is a service to the widows. At this point in the discussion, I think it may be worthwhile to ponder the symbolic value of the widows who are in need within the narrative. Elsewhere in Scripture (Exod 22:22; Deut 10:18; 14:29; Isa 1:17; Jas  1:26–27), a widow is often a symbol of somebody with material need. Although it is quite clear that the laws of charity toward widows were aimed at caring for those who were deprived of the financial care of a husband, it should also be remembered that in days of famine widows were the first to suffer (1 Kgs 17:1,8–24; Luke 4:25–26). 67 Another argument, then, for the thesis that the ministering at tables involves material care seems to be the use of the word τράπεζα (“table”) elsewhere in bibli­ cal literature. 68 Here it seems to me sufficient only to mention the fact that in Luke-­Acts the word τράπεζα is used exactly in a context of material care, whether in sharing food (Luke 16:21; 22:21,30; Acts  16:34; see Matt 15:27; Mark 7:28; Tob 2:2) or for business (Luke 19:23/Matt 21:12/Mark 11:15). In this context, it is also quite illuminating to see how Ben Sira employs the word τράπεζα in the context of hospitality and thus material care, referring to table situations where there is a lack or an abundance of food (Sir 6:10; 14:10; 29:26; 31:12; 40:29 LXX). 69 In Acts  6 , the seven men are chosen to meet the needs of hungry widows. However, as we will see in the surrounding chapters of Acts, there is no exclusive division between material care and the διακονία of the Word.70 Such can be and the fellowship, and the breaking of bread (see 2:46). In Acts  6 , prayer belongs to the diakonia of the Word and the ministering of the tables. In Jewish tradition there is a triangle of Torah, prayer, and service (m. Abot 1:2). 66  Perhaps in this sense we may also understand the role of Phoebe, who is called “deacon of the church in Cenchreae” (Rom  16:1) as well as “patron” (Rom  16:2). 67  For widows in Luke as persons in need, see also Luke 7:11–17; 18:1–8; 21:1–4, esp.  21:4; Mark 12:40. In Codex D and some other manuscripts of Mark 12:40, we find the addition “orphans,” which stresses the connotation that a widow could be seen as a person in need. 68  See also LSJ 1810. 69  On the banquet tradition in Ben Sira, see Dennis E. Smith, From Symposium to Eucharist: The Banquet in the Early Christian World (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 134–44. 70  It is important to note that for their election, it is mentioned that some qualifications are required; they have to be πλῆρεις πνεύματος [ἁγίου] καὶ σοφίας (“full of the [Holy] Spirit and

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determined from Acts  5:1–2. Here Ananias brings a part of his money and lays it at the feet of the apostles (the place where disciples are supposed to be and where learning is the issue; see Acts  22:3), thus suggesting that the apostles are responsible for the material side of the nascent and growing community. This indicates that this part of their responsibility is also at stake in Acts  6:2. However, if this part of their responsibility seems to be at the expense of their preaching and learning, then the apostles argue that this διακονία of the Word here takes precedence over the ministering at tables. The seven men from Acts  6 get the commission to replace the apostles and thus to share with them the διακονία of the table. In Acts  6:1–7, they take over a material part-time responsibility of the apostles, but in the following chapters it becomes clear that they also share in the διακονία of the Word. In Acts  6 , as in Luke 10:38–42, we find a plea for the importance of the Word (either in the form of learning, of preaching, or of something else), although the importance of the Word does not prevent material care from being a part of it.71 Moreover, elsewhere in Luke-Acts the verb διακονέω (“minister”)72 is related to “caring for” people. In Luke 8:1–3, we read of how some women who have been healed by Jesus share their “substance” with him and the Twelve. The women mentioned here are quite clearly comparable to the wealthy women of Acts. Turid Karlsen Seim rightly argues that the expression ἐκ τῶν ὑπαρχόντων αὐταῖς (“from their substance” or “from the things belonging to them”) presupposes that these women have means at their own disposal.73 As in Luke 10:38–42, sharing from your belongings (maybe even from your wealth) is related to the verb διακονέω. So then, the women in 8:3 are depicted, like Martha in 10:38–42, as women who are independent in means and socially well-to-do. Sharing your wealth with such an important teacher as Jesus is not the same as doing lowly housekeeping like the laundry.74 Dirk Jonas argues that Jesus, in his answer to Martha, does not pick up the semantic field of service.75 However, Jonas fails to wisdom”: Acts  6:3). It is clear that these qualifications indicate that the Seven have to be qualified for being leaders or teachers. For this background see Axel von Dobbeler, Der Evangelist Philippus in der Geschichte des Urchristentums: eine prosopographische Skizze (Tübingen: Francke, 2000), 258–63. 71  Collins (Diakonia, 245) argues that in the gospel, the words mainly designate menial attendance of one kind or another. 72  The verb occurs 37x in the NT (6x Matthew; 5x Mark; 8x Luke; 3x John; 2x Acts; 5x Paul; 3x Pastoral Epistles; 2x Hebrews; 3x First Peter). 73 Seim, Double Message, 64. 74  Therefore I disagree with Seim, Double Message, 72, who argues that the healing of the women had the effect of confirming their conventional role. In Luke 10:38–32, as well in Luke 8:3, this seems not to be the case. It could be even argued as a consequence that the use of διακονέω in Luke 4:39 does not indicate that Peter’s mother-in-law has a traditional serving role in the family. 75  For the cognate terms, see Dirk Jonas, “Diakonein–Diakonia–Diakonos. Studien zum Verständnis des Dienstes (‘Diakonie’) bei Markus und Lukas,” in Diakonische Konturen:

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recognise that Luke does use this field because he lets Jesus refer (via his mentioning of the better part) to listening to the Word in 10:39. This listening to the Word is, for him, part of the semantic field of διακονία in Acts  6:1–7. It is exactly because Jonas limits διακονία too much to service that he fails to make the link between the two different attitudes of diakonia at stake in Luke 10:38–42. Nevertheless, material care and the διακονία of the Word are like sisters: they belong together. In Luke 10 and Acts  6 it is argued that in their relation there may even be, not a difference of importance, but (as I would like to suggest) a difference in time. In Luke 10:38–42 and in Acts  6:1–7, it is assumed that the διακονία of the Word (in a sense, a kind of collective noun for Jesus’ teachings) precedes material care. Indeed, we find that the διακονία of the Word precedes doing, since elsewhere in the Gospel (for instance, in Luke 6:47 and 8:21) there is a stress on the fact that listening comes before doing (compare Luke 18:18, and see Deut 5:1).

5. Conclusion: Learning and Doing in Rabbinic Judaism In rabbinic tradition, the relation between learning and doing is hotly debated. There is a discussion among the rabbis about the question of whether learning or doing is more important. We can find an example of such a discussion in an explanation of Deuteronomy, the Sifre to Deuteronomy.76 At the beginning of this discussion Deut 11:13 is quoted: “And it will come to pass, if you shall hearken diligently unto my commandments.”77 As a first interpretation the rabbinic preacher argues that this verse is connected with Deut 5:1,78 and the preacher quotes the last phrase: “that you may learn them and keep on doing them.” After quite a number of references to other scriptural passages, the following discussion is put forward to support and explain this statement. Once Rabbi Tarfon, Rabbi Akiba and Rabbi Josse the Galilean were reclining at Bet’ Aris in Lod, when this question was presented to them: What is greater: learning or doing? 79 Rabbi Tarfon said: greater is doing. Rabbi Akiba said: greater is learning. Every one present agreed that study is great; for study leads to doing. Theologie im Kontext sozialer Arbeit (eds. Volker Herrmann, Rainer Merz and Heinz Schmidt; Heidelberg: Winter, 2003), 63–126, esp.  94. 76  Sifre to Deuteronomy, Piska 41 (a commentary on Deut 11:13). The Sifre is a running exegetical Midrash to the Book of Deuteronomy, often expounding verse by verse and chapter by chapter. It is a collection of various interpretations to Deuteronomy. Because the Sifre to Deuteronomy and to Numbers were unknown to the Talmuds, it seems that they were arranged and edited no earlier than the end of the fourth century C.E. 77  The following statement is left out: “which I command you this day to love your God and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul.” 78  “Hear O Israel, the statutes and judgments which I speak in your ears this day, that you may learn them and keep on doing them.” 79  Here and in the next sentences: literally “great” instead of “greater.”

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This rabbinic text is part of a larger unit. In this larger unit the relation between learning and doing is dealt with from different angles.80 In this special part, three rabbis (well-known in the rabbinic tradition) are presented in a quite ­specific situation. In the context dealing with the relation between learning and doing a question is formulated: What is more important: “learning” or “doing”?81 Rabbi Tarfon is the first to answer. He argues that the doing (i. e., practice) is great(er). Rabbi Akiba, however, votes for learning, but before the reader gets the impression that it is about real alternatives, all together answer: great is learning, because it leads to practice. This way the statement of Rabbi Akiba is deepened. At first it is said that learning is more important than doing. Consequently it is explained why: learning leads to doing, which in a certain sense even suggests that doing and practice may be the most important. Regarding this text, Pierre Lenhardt and Peter von der Osten-Sacken stress that the most important factor is that this learning and doing are not (simply) opposed, but that their relationship is depicted as complementary. In other words, learning is not played off against doing, nor are study and practice put in opposition; rather, they belong together. This dilemma is part and parcel of the wisdom circles in Jewish traditions. 82 Although the words and ideas used are not always the same, the relationship between these two aspects appears elsewhere in rabbinic traditions. In the famous and well-known tractate Pirqe Abot, one of the first statements is by Simeon the Righteous, who used to say: “On three things the world stands: on the Torah, on Temple service, and on acts of piety (gemillut chassidim)” (m. Abot 1:2). We see here the combination of study, praying, and charity. An interesting saying regarding the relationship between studying and doing is also to be found in m. Abot 1:17. Simeon, the son of Gamaliel says: “All my life I grew up among sages and have found nothing better for anybody than silence. Not study is the chief thing, but action. And he who is verbose brings on sin” (1:17). In the examples mentioned here, we see that apparently in Jewish circles there was a discussion on the relationship between learning the Torah in all its aspects and doing. It is an essential characteristic of rabbinic literature that no one statement expresses the whole truth, but that the juxtaposition of different points of view is passed on. From the times of the Deuteronomist the theme of learning and doing was important. The texts of Sifre, and maybe also the texts of Pirqe Abot, belong to that chain of discussions. 80  Pierre Lenhardt and Peter von der Osten-Sacken, Rabbi Akiba: Texte und Interpretationen zum rabbinischen Judentum und Neuen Testament (Berlin: Institut Kirche und Judentum, 1987), 200–221. 81  The fact that there are several variants of this discussion indicates that it was an important issue. 82  Lenhardt and von der Osten-Sacken, Rabbi Akiba, 214.

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The great Jewish scholar, Abraham Joshua Heschel, argues that Jewish thinking and living can only be adequately understood in terms of a dialectic pattern, containing opposite or contrasted properties.83 As in a magnet, the ends of which have opposite magnetic qualities, these terms are opposite to one another and exemplify a polarity which lies at the very heart of Judaism. We can find in the above-mentioned rabbinic texts (and their parallels) a dilemma which has quite a few elements in common with Luke 10:38–42 and Acts  6:1–7. 84 In the NT we find analogous discussions, albeit with different terms (which is to be expected because the texts of the NT are in Greek, and the rabbinic writings in Hebrew or Aramaic), but with comparable concepts.85 In the pericope in which the parable of the Good Samaritan is told, the narration revolves around the question: what am I to do to inherit eternal life? Jesus answers by referring to Deuteronomy. In this book, but also elsewhere in the OT and in Jesus’ teaching, we find clues to the things to do. In this teaching (Luke 10:27), Jesus refers to Deut 6:5, and the message of the whole passage can be summarised in the phrase: “praxis is more important.” However, as is clear from the following passage, the story of Mary and Martha, learning of the Word is the better part. Jesus stresses the fact that Mary may keep her part. Implicitly the possibility remains open that Martha too can start to sit down at the Lord’s feet, because everybody can become a disciple of Jesus. Mary and Martha are as sisters within a family; similarly in their story, their attitudes – the busy διακονία of Martha and the learning of Mary – are related: these attitudes belong together. As elsewhere in his two-volume work, Luke gives his readers the opportunity to interpret a passage from the Gospel with one from Acts. Even more than in Luke 10:38–42, in Acts  6:1–7 the διακονία of the Word (semantically related with teaching and preaching Jesus’ lessons; see Acts  5:42) happens to take precedence. Yet the serving at the tables, the caring for the widows has also to be provided. Now I will return briefly to the work of Collins. He has delivered a very important contribution to the “demythologising” of the concept of διακονία. Although he rightly stresses that in Acts  6 διακονία and its cognates do not refer to lowly forms of service, I do not think that they refer only to the preaching of the Word. In Acts  6 the widows also have a material problem. The apostles, who 83  Abraham Joshua Heschel, God in Search of Man: A Philosophy of Judaism (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1976 [first edition 1955]), 336–40. 84  Although this text is admittedly much later than our texts from the NT, the discussions are certainly older than their final redaction. Between the two passages from Luke-Acts on the one hand and the rabbinic text on the other there are some quite remarkable conceptual resemblances. A discussion about learning at table – quite comparable with a symposium – was not totally unknown to the rabbis. We find such learning discussions also in the NT (for example, Luke 14:1–24). 85 Besides Jas   1:22–27, see also Jas  2:20–25 and its “counterparts” in Gal  2:15–21 and Rom  2:13.

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(as is clear from Acts  5) are also responsible for the economic welfare and financial administration of the communities, start to share this responsibility with the Seven. This arrangement facilitates their concentration on the preaching. However, in line with Jesus and his Old Testament inspiration, this preaching calls for action, particularly on behalf of widows (and orphans). In Acts  6 , the Seven start with taking care of material needs on behalf of the apostles but, as becomes clear from the narrative of Acts, this is not their only task. Just like Martha, they are also invited to embrace both responsibilities, not only the διακονία at table but also the responsibility for the Word. Immediately after Acts  6 we read that both Stephen and Philip start to evangelise. That these Seven are meant not only for material care is also suggested by the writer of Acts when the story later returns to Philip. The narrative mentions that Philip is one of the Seven but calls him first Philip the evangelist (Acts  21:8). In this last reference to the Seven, it is also clear that they have an important responsibility for the Word. Luke T. Johnson argued that the problem of Acts  6:1–7 is that there is no obvious relation between the purported role of the Seven and their actual function.86 I would like to argue that attending to material care and attending to the Word of God have a dialectic relation, and thus they belong together.

86 

Luke T. Johnson, The Acts of the Apostles (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1992), 111.

Like a Royal Wedding On the Significance of Diakonos in John 2:1–111 Bart J. Koet

Boymans van Beuningen museum in Rotterdam displays a panel which for a long time has been ascribed to Hieronymus Bosch. It depicts the marriage at Cana. Bride and groom sit down to a banquet. We see them leaning over the table in a corner to the left of the viewer. Jesus himself, too, sits at the banquet, but is situated centre-right for the viewer. Centre-left, but close to Jesus, sits Mary. In the background, a dish holding a large bird is being carried in. This is probably a swan, the main dish of the “zwanebroeders” (knights of the swan). In the foreground a man stands bent over a large jar. As often in medieval paintings the whole has become a mixture of medieval customs and data from John’s text. An instance is the styling of the bride’s hair.2 The cutlery, too, is a medieval touch, with only knives on the table. A clearly biblical element is the six jars in the foreground of the picture. These are from John 2:6. On the left in front of the table two men are having a chat. On the right in front of the table a lady is drinking something out of a bowl. Her hair is up, indicating that she is married. The day after their wedding, women were expected to put up their hair. In front of the table stands a kind of icon of two saints. Next to the icon stands a midget male person. He is sandy-haired. In one hand he carries a large chalice and in the other something that looks like a piece of bread. He wears a beautiful green garment. From under the garment a small white rim peeps out. On the outside of the garment he wears a narrow white band slanting downwards. 1  This article is a translation and extended version of a Dutch article: Bart J. Koet, “Wijnschenken bij de bruiloft van Kana, Over de betekenis van diakonos in Johannes 2,5.9,” in Harm W.M. van Grol and Piet van Midden, Een roos in de lente. Theologisch palet van de FKT (FS Panc Beentjes: Utrecht, 2009), 136–44. In what follows we shall leave both words (episkopoi and diakonoi) for the most part untranslated and use transcribed forms. 2  The bride’s clothes and hair fit the requirements of the time; see Jeroen M.M. van der Ven, In facie ecclesiae: De katholieke huwelijksliturgie in de Nederlanden van de 13e eeuw tot het einde van de Ancien Régime (Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 116.

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Could it be that with this character the artist has wanted to depict one of the characters from the story of the Cana marriage? Could the narrow white band be a deacon’s stole?3 And is the garment a dalmatic? And does he carry the chalice in his hands because that is the liturgical task of the deacon? Could this little character point to a particular group of actors from the story of the Cana marriage? As is well known, this story is about Jesus’ first sign in the fourth Gospel. There it is told that on the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee. The mother of Jesus was there (throughout John’s entire Gospel she is not designated by the name “Mary”), and Jesus, too, has been invited together with his disciples (in Greek we read a form of the verb καλέω, which means first of all “to call”). When the wine runs out, the famous story follows of water being changed into wine. It is the mother who, without her son’s knowledge, tells the servants to do whatsoever he says unto them. The Greek word used here for “servants” is the dative plural of diakonos. In John 2:9 they are mentioned again. In the rest of John’s Gospel, the term ­diakonos occurs only at John 12:26. In the Rotterdam panel of this biblical story the table servant seems to be clothed with the liturgical garb of a (medieval) deacon. But what kind of diakonoi would they be in John 2? To many listeners the word diakonos and the words derived from it in Latin (diaconus) and in many Romance (diacono [Italian], diácono [Spanish], diacre [French]) and Germanic languages (for example, ­Diakon [German], deacon [English] or diaken [Dutch]) refer to lowly service. In 1990, the Australian John Collins published a detailed study of diakonia and related words.4 In various contributions, I have shown what his enquiry means for the interpretation of Luke 10:38–42 and Acts  6:1–6.5 For the conference ­dedicated to “Diakonia, the diaconiae, and the diaconate,” I would like to examine whether the enquiry by Collins is also relevant to the few instances of the word stem διακον- in John’s Gospel. Because of the limited scope of this article, I focus on John 2:1–11. And since a translation of diakonos as “servant” evokes 3  That a stole worn on top of a dalmatic was not unusual is apparent from a work by Hans Memling, an altarpiece for John’s hospital, Bruges (1474–1479); see Dirk de Vos, The Flemish Primitives, the Masterpieces (Amsterdam: Princeton University Press-Amsterdam University Press, 2002), 177. 4 John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990, reprinted in 2009). 5 “De diakonia van het ‘Woord’: Over een samenhang tussen Lukas 10,38–42 en Handelingen 6,1–6” in Tussen Cairo en Jeruzalem: Studies over de Bijbel en haar Context (eds. Bob Becking et.al.; FS Meindert Dijkstra & Karel Vriezen: Utrecht, 2006), 47–56; “The Image of Martha in Luke 10.38–42 and in John 11.1–12.8” (together with Wendy E.S. North), in Miracles and Imagery in Luke and John (eds. Gilbert van Belle et al.; FS Ulrich Busse: Leuven: Peeters, 2008), 47–66; “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts  6,1–7: a Lucan Diptych on Diakonia,” in Studies in the Greek Bible (eds. Jeremy Corley and Vincent Skemp; FS Francis T Gignac: Washington DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 2008), 163–85.

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certain strong associations, I simply transcribe the Greek word diakonos. Although it will become clear that the diakonoi in John 2 do not shed direct light on the phenomenon of the deacon in the early church, indirectly this narrative will show us something about the cultural background within which the ministry of deacons arose.

1. John 2:1–11 in Short6 The first miracle in John’s Gospel seems to comply with the pattern of miracle stories.7 In this pericope, Maarten Menken distinguishes first of all an introduction (2:1–2) in which the setting of the story is outlined, and then an exposition (2:3–4). The wine runs out, and Jesus’ mother draws her son’s attention to this fact. His mother tells the diakonoi to do whatsoever he says unto them. Menken characterises 2:6–8 as the preparation for the miracle. At first it is said that there are large stone jars and they number no less than six. This information is needed to understand what follows, because Jesus commissions the diakonoi with two tasks. First he tells them to fill these jars with water (2:7). After they have filled them up to the brim, he tells them to draw out water and to take it to the άρχιτρίκλινος (translated in the King James Bible as “governor of the feast”).8 When this architriclinos has tasted the water that was made wine but does not know where it has come from, he turns to the bridegroom. Thus we are informed that a miracle has occurred but are not given a description of it. In 2:10 the archtriclinos more or less calls the bridegroom to account for what has happened: “Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine; and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine until now.” (KJV). In a parenthesis to the narrative, the author typifies what happened in Cana as the beginning of the signs. In 2:12 he reports that Jesus, his mother, his brethren, and his disciples go down to Capernaum and stay there for a couple of days.9 6  There is some disagreement as to where this passage ends, some exegetes considering 2:12 to mark the end. 7 See for this the short description at Maarten J.J. Menken, Numerical Literary Techniques in John: The Fourth Evangelist’s Use of Numbers of Words and Syllables (Leiden: Brill, 1985), 72–74. 8  The term άρχιτρίκλινος appears for the first time in Greek literature in John 2. After that, only in Church Fathers commenting on John 2 except for some instances in the novel Aethiopica of Heliodorus, whom some people suspect of being a Christian bishop! See the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae. The Vulgate translates this word by architriclinus. The reader may recognise that άρχι stands for head and τρίκλινος refers to the Hellenistic triclinium or dining room. In the following I am using the transcripion of this word. 9  John 2:11 is one of the statements in this Gospel that appear to be “parenthetical” to the preceding narrative. Such parentheses are more a reflection on the story than part of it. For the

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The story of the Cana marriage as the first miracle story has a special position in John’s Gospel. In his exhaustive work on images and rituals in John’s Gospel Ulrich Busse writes: “Das ‘Anfangszeichen’ des Johanneischen Jesus im präzis definierten galiläischen Kana (1,43; 4,46.54; 21,2) ist eine der faszinierendsten und attraktivsten Wundergeschichten der neutestamentlichen Tradition.”10 Therefore it is not to be wondered at that much has been written about it.11 Busse points to a number of details which have often attracted attention.12 He mentions the somewhat peculiar indication of time, “the third day.” Also notable is the role of Jesus’ mother in this story. Why is she at the marriage before Jesus and his disciples? The mother then says there is no wine. Jesus’ reply [2:4: Τί ἐμοὶ καὶ σοί, γύναι; οὔπω ἥκει ἡ ὥρα μου] gets a lot of attention in exegetical literature. Busse also points to the fact that the modern reader is surprised at the enormous quantity of wine. Busse notices that the diakonoi are the only ones who can see that at this marriage Jesus takes over the position of host from the bridegroom. They are also the only ones who can know this, for they have done what Jesus’ mother has ordered them to do. And in 2:9 the narrative expressly states that they know.

2. Are the Diakonoi in John 2:1–11 Humble Slaves? Busse, then, in the first part of his book points to the special role of the diakonoi in this miracle story. In the third part (“Űber die Bildlichkeit zur Verständigung”), however, he explicitly enters into their significance in this pericope. In his work Busse wants to further investigate the special symbols of John’s Gospel. These symbols and metaphors indeed have a particular power to touch the reader affectively and are therefore also important in engaging the reader. In the third part Busse works with literary-sociological questions. He starts with a review of the social hierarchy in John 2:1–11.13 Busse states that, while LukeActs and Paul’s letters have indeed been examined from literary and sociological perspectives, little such attention has been given to relevant texts in John’s Gospel. However, in his view, paying attention to socially relevant elements can help us discover the emotional associations evoked within the reader of the use of these parentheses in John, see Gilbert Van Belle, Les parenthèses dans l’évangile de Jean: Aperçu historique et classification texte grec de Jean (Leuven: Peeters, 1985). 10 Ulrich Busse, Das Johannesevangelium: Bildlichkeit, Diskurs und Ritual (Leuven: Peeters, 2004), 87; for a detailed bibliography dealing with John 2:1–11, see 457–59. 11  For Bultmann’s suggestion that this passage is taken from a pagan legend about Dionysius and superimposed upon Jesus, see now Wilfried Eisele, “Jesus und Dionysos: Göttliche Konkurrenz bei der Hochzeit zu Kana (Joh 2,1–11),” ZNW 100 (2009): 1–28 and literature mentioned in note 2. 12  For this see Busse, Johannesevangelium, 87–92. 13 Busse, Johannesevangelium, 275–81.

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time.14 In illustration, Busse mentions Jesus’ statement that He is “the bread of life”: such an image evokes quite different emotions in a society where bread is expensive from any that might be evoked in the present context of Western Europe where one can buy newly baked bread every day. Busse starts his literary-sociological enquiry with John 2:1–11. He states that this story can be used to make clear a not-very-striking but nonetheless essential topos of John’s Gospel, namely, humble service. This topos is represented in terms relating to “slavery” (including “diaconia”). According to Busse, the topos is present in John 2:1–11, John 8, in the Valedictory Oration (13–16), and in the epilogue, John 21. As far as John 2:1–11 is concerned, Busse points out that the wedding party is described only in outline. All kind of important information is lacking: Where is the bride? Is there a wedding contract (Ketubba)? Nothing is said about the Jewish custom of making the marriage feast last a number of days. In connection with the lack of wine, Busse refers to an example in Plutarch [Moralia, 678 E–F] where the dignitas of the host, in this case the bridegroom, is at stake when bread and wine are short.15 According to Busse, the instruction given to the diakonoi by Jesus’ mother is the actual start of the narration. In his first treatment of John 2:1–11, Busse had already noticed that the diakonoi are the only ones who know Jesus’ sign. Since it is noteworthy that secondary characters get such a leading role, critics have attempted to identify various editorial stages here.16 Busse, however, thinks that a social-historical perspective offers a more plausible solution. He thinks there is a social contrast between the diakonoi and the architriclinos and that this contrast is part of the author’s strategy to make something clear as to Jesus’ message. Therefore, Busse first examines the possible status of the last mentioned. The word architriclinos itself is extremely rare, but by invoking related concepts Busse ascertains that the functional profile and the social status of the architriclinos must have been rather high. This is what makes it credible for this character to lecture the bridegroom on social expectations. The presence of an architriclinos suggests that this is a marriage within upper levels of society, an aspect important to Busse. Those with a high social status (bridegroom and architriclinos) know nothing of the origin of the good wine, whereas the slaves have first-hand information.17 So to Busse it stands to reason that the diakonoi 14 Busse,

Johannesevangelium, 275. Johannesevangelium, 276. 16  Busse himself tried this years ago. Now he considers this to be a kind of juvenile sin: Busse, Johannesevangelium, 88. For a surview of historical-critical research of John 2:1–11, see Walter Lütgehetmann, Die Hochzeit von Kana (Joh 2,1–11): Zu Ursprung und Deutung einer Wundererzählung im Rahmen johanneischer Redaktionsgeschichte (Regensburg: Fried­ rich Pustet, 1990), 41–122. 17 Busse, Johannesevangelium, 280–81. 15 Busse,

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from John 2 are slaves and that diakonos and δοῦλος are practically synonymous.18 And that is exactly what must be questioned. Birger Olsson in his work on the structure of the fourth Gospel explicitly pays some attention to the use of the word diakonos.19 He states that describing the servants as slaves is not so obvious as far as the Greek language is concerned.20 He thinks that the word may have been used here because it is the task of diakonoi to wait at table. He argues that the wording has prompted some scholars to interpret the servants in the light of Acts  6:1ff, Luke 22:27, and the diakonia motif in the NT. He concludes that “the wording alone does not call for such comparisons, but by reason of its special possibilities of association the word diakonoi is more open than, for example paides or douloi. It may have been chosen because of the total message of the text.”21 Walter Lütgehetmann presents an interesting view on the diakonoi. He sees the term as evidence of a connection between John’s story and the role of diakonoi in the Dionysius-cult within Dionysius legends.22 Each mystery-association had special diakonoi in charge of the distribution of wine. To a certain extent these diakonoi carried out a religious ministry.

3. Is the Diakonos a Slave? In this light, it is not self-evident that we should translate the word diakonoi as slave or humble servant. As I have written before, we ought to pay closer attention to the range of possible meanings conveyed by the word diakonia and related words with the stem diakon-.23 I have already referred to the major work of the Australian theologian John N. Collins, whose extensive examination of di18  In 12:26, John has Jesus say that when anyone wants to serve him he should follow him and that where he is (ego eimi), there his diakonos will be. Busse ( Johannesevangelium, 284) refers to this as though it were a “Logion vom Sklaven, der bei seinem Herrn sein soll.” 19  Birger Olsson, Structure and Meaning in the Fourth Gospel: A Text-Linguistic Analysis of John 2:1–11 and 4:1–42 (Lund: CWK Gleerup, 1974), 45–46 and 110–11. 20 Olsson, Structure and Meaning in the Fourth Gospel, 45: “The description of the servants as hoi diakonoi does not seem to come quite naturally in the Greek, but may be explained as meaning that they were serving the meal.” 21 Olsson, Structure and Meaning in the Fourth Gospel, 45–46. He argues that in 12:26, diakonos denotes a disciple of Jesus. 22 Lütgehetmann, Die Hochzeit von Kana, 280–81. 23  Bart J. Koet, “De diaken ook boodschapper? Exegetische kanttekeningen bij de liturgische rol van diaken in de liturgie,” Communio 31 (2006): 453–63; Id., “De diaken als evangelieverkondiger? Een drieluik over het diaconaat,” Communio 33 (2008): 58–71, in id., “Diakonie ist nicht nur Armenfürsorge. Neuere exegetische Erkenntnisse zum Verständnis von Diakonie,” in Lernen wäre eine schöne Alternative: Religionsunterricht in theologischer und erziehungs­ wissenschaftlicher Verantwortung (eds. Christoph Gramzow, Heide Liebold and Martin Sander-­ Gaiser; FS Helmut Hanisch: Leipzig: Evangelische Verlag-Anstalt, 2008), 303–18.

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akonoi at festivals greatly expands our understanding of their function and status.24 Collins claims that the notion of diakonia as more or less synonymous with the humble service of the church to the poor is mainly of German origin. In my view, his argument in relation to the semantics is convincing.25 Recently a German New Testament scholar has evaluated those principles and in general confirmed Collins’ findings.26 In his study Collins examines the use of these words in Greek literary sources of the classical and Hellenistic periods. This careful investigation enables us to discern to what extent the Christian Greek of the New Testament and of the early church shows a different usage. In an appendix to his work, Collins outlines the range of possible meanings, and emphasises that particular meanings are to be determined by context. He finds that the διακον- terms occur in three distinct fields of meaning relating to (1) “message”; (2) “agency”; and (3) “attendance.” One common element of meaning relates to an activity of an in-between nature. Another is that the activity is an assignment in the name of a principal. The terms are part of more formal language and often occur in a religious context. But what is the relevance of such usage to the interpretation of John 2:1–11? In what follows I will not specifically engage ancient Greek usage, but in the light of newer linguistic research I will review recent literature concerning John 2:1–11, particularly in regard to what is raised there in reference to the appearance of the diakonoi.27

4. The Diakonoi in John 2:1–11 We saw above that Ulrich Busse claims that in John 2, Jesus does more or less reveal his glory to the poor diakonoi, who stand for the humble waiters. Collins points out that despite the frequency with which ancient literature records feasts and dinner parties, the word diakonos is a designation of waiter in only twenty of the hundred instances of the word.28 He further shows that the διακονwords can designate waiters and their duties in the courts of rulers, in the abode 24 Collins,

Diakonia, especially 156–68. disagree with Collins only on some exegetical details; see my discussion of his treatment of Acts  6 in Koet, “The Image of Martha in Luke 10.38–42 and in John 11.1–12.8,” and id., “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts  6 ,1–7.” 26  Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien der Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007); see my review in English in: Bijdragen 69 (2008): 110–12. Between Collins and Hentschel there is only a difference in emphasis. While Collins argues that a diakonos is somebody who is an agent, Hentschel stresses more the fact that a diakonos is somebody with a mandate. 27  For John 2:1–11, see Collins, Diakonia, 245, but see also his description of diakonoi in connection with formal and religious meals (74–76), chapter 7 (especially 150 and 154–68). 28  See Collins, Diakonia, 154. 25  I

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of the gods, and at dinners of a usually elaborate kind.29 In connection with Collins’ enquiry, I suggest that the diakonoi in John are not intended to make clear Jesus’ theological option for the poor. I rather think that these diakonoi play a somewhat less pretentious role, namely, they are among the elements which characterise the Cana marriage as a special marriage, a marriage like that of a king. That the Cana marriage reminds us of a wedding as an image of the covenant between God and His people has been noted before.30 A rather extreme point of view is taken by Roger Aus.31 He claims that in a very inventive way, the author used haggadian traditions concerning Esther 1:1–8 as materials for this pericope. Aus mentions no less than eight items from which it would appear that John 2:1–11 depends on Esther and later Jewish readings of this story.32 As an important first item, Aus points out that Jewish traditional exegesis of Esther 1 and the narrative of John 2 are both concerned with a wedding party. Suffice to point to the fact here that, whereas in the Hebrew text of Esther 1:5 the issue is not a wedding party at all, Greek translations explicitly state that we are dealing with a marriage.33 It is Aus’ opinion that the large quantity of wine drunk at Ahasuerus’ wedding party is in part the background of the enormous quantity of wine at Cana.34 Aus considers architriclinos to be the author’s ad hoc creation.35 As a possible model for this character he sees the rav beto of Esther 1:8. It is interesting that LXX turns it into a plural: οἰκονόμοι. Aus also refers to Esther 7:8 where Targum Sheni uses the word tri29  See Collins, Diakonia, 156, and footnote 1, 309–10. Here Collins lists numerous occurrences of διακον- words in courtly contexts. Here I refer only to instances in Flavius Josephus: A.J. 2,65 (the court of the Pharaoh); 6,52 (King Saul); 7,165 (Amnon, the prince); 8,169 (Solomon); 10,242 (Belshazzar); 11,163,166 (Xerxes); 11,188 (Artaxerxes); 15,224 (Herod); 18,193 (Agrippa). And see the broader reference in note 27 above. 30 See among others for example Menken, Numerical Literary Techniques, 81–82, who refers to Isa 54:4–8, 62: 4–5, Jer 2, Ezek 16, and Hos 1–3. Jocelyn McWhirter, The Bridegroom Messiah and the people of God: Marriage in the Fourth Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 47–50, argues that for some of the contemporaries of the author of the Gospel the advent of the Messiah was associated with abundant wine. She refers to 2 Bar 29, 3.5–6. 31  Roger Aus, Water into Wine and the Beheading of John the Baptist: Early Jewish-Christian Interpretation of Esther 1 in John 2:11 and Mark 6:17–29 (Atlanta: Scholars, 1988); for connections between Esther and John 2:1–11, also see John Bowman, The Fourth Gospel and the Jews: a Study in R. Akiba, Esther and the Gospel of John (Pittsburgh: Pennsylvania Pickwick Press, 1975), 161–63. 32  In my opinion Aus is not convincing in all respects. I find, for example, the way he tries to date his material somewhat unconvincing. Since in his view haggadic material has already been found in LXX and in Josephus, he thinks that the material of much later Jewish texts also contain older material (Water into Wine, 25–26), whereas that is exactly what he needs to establish. 33 Aus, Water into Wine, 9; see also Hanna Kahana, Esther: Juxtaposition of the Septuagint Translation with the Hebrew Text (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 15–16. 34 Aus, Water into Wine, 14, estimates between 453 and 681 litres. 35  For this and following, see Aus, Water into Wine, 15–17.

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clinon for “hall for parties.” In his opinion the reference to the ritual purification in John 2:6 is to be explained on the basis of several rabbinic commentaries on Esther which indicate that at Ahasuerus’ party there was room for kosher food. The fact that in Esther 1:8, Ahasuerus gives an order is to be the background of the order of Jesus’ mother to the diakonoi.36 In addition, Aus thinks that the king’s display of his splendour at Esther 1:4 has influenced the wording of John 2:11.37 It would carry me too far afield to report here and comment upon all of Aus’ arguments. Although Aus adduces much in support of his claim that the author of John 2:1–1138 used the haggadian material concerning the Esther tradition, I think that he is putting too much weight upon the evidence available. Although it is difficult to establish the argument proposed by Aus that John used the Esther material, I do think it useful to compare these traditions. The most important element emerging from the comparison is that in both the Esther story of the LXX and in John 2 a royal wedding is in process. However, although Aus’ list of comparable elements between John 2 and the Esther tradition is quite lengthy, sometimes he overlooks other material relevant to the comparison. Aus scarcely goes into one striking resemblance between the Greek versions of the book of Esther and John 2:1–11. Esther is the only book in the Greek translations of the Old Testament where the word diakonoi occurs several times, and John 2:1–11 is the only story from that Gospel in which this word occurs twice (in the rest of the Gospel only once, 12:26). As I have pointed out elsewhere, the word diakonos appears seldom in the LXX.39 In Esther 1, the word diakonoi is used in the account of the festivity – characterised in the Greek text as a wedding. The story starts with a description of a week of exuberant royal festivity. The king invites the entire population for seven days with wine in gold cups, each one more splendid than the other. The queen entertained the women at their own festival. On the seventh day the king wants to parade with his wife and asks her to show herself to the people and fellow-countrymen adorned with a diadem. He orders seven men to collect her (1:10). In the New Jerusalem Bible one reads: “On the seventh day, when the king was merry with wine, he commanded Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Bigtha, Abagtha, Zethar and Carkas, the seven officers in attendance [sic] on the person of King Ahasuerus of King.” Esther 1:10 [LXX] could be translated as “seven eunuchs, the diakonoi.”40 The very exalted characterisation of these 36 

See Aus, Water into Wine, 19–20. See Aus, Water into Wine, 23–24. 38 Aus, Water into Wine, 26 thinks that the author of this pericope is not the author of the rest of the Gospel. 39  More detailed in my article, “De diaken ook boodschapper?” 456–59 and id., “Diakonie ist nicht nur Armenfürsorge,” 311–13. 40  Esther 1,10 (LXX): ἐν δὲ τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῇ ἑβδόμῃ ἡδέως γενόμενος ὁ βασιλεὺς εἶπεν τῷ ᾿Αμὰν 37 

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men as personal servants of the king (in Hebrew) is represented in the Greek with the word diakonos. Elsewhere as well, diakonoi act in the Greek text of Esther. At 2:2 they are advisers to the king; similarly, 6:3,5. In my article I drew the tentative conclusion that on the few occasions that the word diakonos is used in Esther it designates high officials in court, so high that they can face the king (and in those days that meant a lot more than in our time). One can find in Matt 25:44 another quite unexpected indication that a διακονterm introduces an allusion to a royal court. Although, as is well known, Matt 25:31–44 is the locus classicus for Jesus’ social teaching, the use of the verb dia­ koneo in 25:44 is not itself an expression of the good works demanded of the kingdom’s inhabitants (feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming the stranger, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and the prisoner). John Collins has indentified in diakoneo in the mouths of the wicked here an element of fawning. In their appeal to the king, they use courtly language in indicating that they have had eyes only for the king and have not neglected his least wish. This understanding fits the context. The Son of Man is depicted as a royal person. He is sitting on the throne of his glory. The wicked thought it sufficient to serve this king. They have not seen the king thirsty or hungry, naked or as a stranger (25:44). They did not realise that this king is not attuned to people who want to serve only him and have no care for their fellow subjects. They did not realise that this king and the poor are of the same stock.41 In conjunction with the term architriclinos, I propose that the term diakonoi rather points to the royal character of the Cana marriage than to any hierarchical contrast between bridegroom and architriclinos on the one hand and servile attendants on the other.

5. The Diakonoi of John 2 in the Church Fathers In this last section, I present some indications of whether these diakonoi of John 2 were seen in the early church as lowly servants, as proposed by a modern ­author like Ulrich Busse, or whether they accord with one of the early uses of diakonos as member of a royal court. Although it is quite probable that early Fathers like Ignatius of Antioch and Justin Martyr knew and used the Fourth Gospel, it seems that Heracleon was the first who wrote a commentary on the gospel (ca. 170).42 Origen’s commentary is the first patristic commentary of which substantial parts have been preκαὶ Βαζὰν καὶ Θάρρᾳ καὶ Βαραζὶ καὶ Ζαθολθὰ καὶ ᾿Αβαταζὰ καὶ Θαραβά, τοῖς ἑπτὰ εὐνούχοις τοῖς διακόνοις τοῦ βασιλέως ᾿Αρταξέρξου. 41  See Collins, Diakonia, 64–65. 42  See Charles Kannegieser, Handbook of Patristic Exegesis: The Bible in Ancient Christianity, Vol. I (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 345.

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served, and it quoted extended fragments of Heracleon’s work.43 Kannegieser argues that John’s Gospel played a key part in the Trinitarian and Christological discussions, especially in the great controversies of the fourth and fifth centuries. He adds that, unfortunately, a good number of commentaries written in this context have been lost or survive only as fragments in catenae.44 However, important commentaries like the eighty-eight homilies by John Chrysostom, the Tractates on the Gospel of John by Augustine, and two Greek commentaries of Theodor of Mopsuestia and Cyril of Alexandria have been preserved. In early Christianity, John’s story about the wedding of Cana was wellknown.45 Because it was presented as Jesus’ first miracle, and maybe also because of the appealing motive of a wedding and the fascinating aspect of the lack of wine, it was quite often mentioned as a specific miracle of Jesus. We find many passing references to this pericope in John (see, for example, Arator subdiaconus, Liber 1, 154 or Gregory of Nyssa, Orationes Theologicae 3,20). In the more elaborate commentaries just mentioned, one can find extensive discussions of the passage. Augustine deals with this wedding in two tractates and John Chrysostom discusses it in his sermons.46 In such patristic literature, attention often focuses on the role of Mary and on Jesus’ puzzling statement in 2:4 (“Woman, what have I to do with thee?”).47 So we are not to be surprised that the diakonoi of John 2 are not often discussed when fathers of the church deal with the wedding in Cana. Augustine, for example, does not mention them in his sermons on John 2 (Tractatus in Joannis evangelium, VIII and IX).48 But when they do attract comment, they are not described as slaves or low-servants. Sometimes a special role is attributed to them in the narrative. A father as early as Origen (fr. 29, Io GCS 10, 505) argues that the evangelist is careful because he “introduces Jesus, charging not His own disciples, but the servants of the feast, about drawing the water; if Jesus’ disciples had drawn it, 43 Origen,

Comm. Jo. Handbook of Patristic Exegesis (Vol. I), 346; 
see Johannes-Kommentare aus der griechischen Kirche: aus Katenenhandschriften gesammelt und hrsg. von Joseph Reuss (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1966). Although in the fragments left by Apollinaris of Laodicea, Theodor of Heraclea, Ammonius of Alexandria, and Photius of Constantinople there are references to John 2:6–9, in these fragments there is no specific identification of the type of diakonoi. 45  See Adolf Smitmans, Das Weinwunder von Kana: Die Auslegung von Jo 2, 1–1 – bei den Vätern und heute (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1966). See also Harold Smith, Ante-Nicene Exegesis of the Gospels: Vol II (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledged, 1926). Smith summarises patristic exegeses of several important pericopes of the NT. For John 2:1– 11, see 6–13. 46  For Augustine, see George Lawless, “The wedding at Cana: Augustine on the Gospel according John, Tractates 8 and 9,” in Augustinian Studies 28 (1997): 35–80. 47 Smitmans, Weinwunder von Kana, 98–125. 48  Cyril of Alexandria (PG 73, 225 C/D) refers to the diakonoi as “helpers at the feast.” 44 Kannegieser,

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calumniators might have said ‘They filled the waterpots with wine, while pretending to have filled them with water.’” 49 The fact that, to a certain extent, these diakonoi guarantee the truth of the miracle is specified in some later sermons. Pseudo-Hippolytus and John Chrysostom, for example, argue that they are potential witnesses should doubt arise. John Chrysostom asks why Jesus needs the diakonoi. He suggests that they are needed as witnesses.50 Although this is not a statement about the status of these diakonoi, it does imply that they are not slaves, but free persons who can witness. Smitmans argues that in the later tradition of the West there is another explanation of the role of the diakonoi in John 2. They are interpreted in a symbolic way. He refers to Ps Augustinus’ Sermo 92. Smitmans argues that, in this sermon, Mary is the symbol for the church which directs her priests to recognise revelation of Christ.51 However, it is interesting to note that in this sermon the ministri are compared with the Levites.52 And in patristic thinking, the word “Levites” is usually seen as a referent for deacons, not priests.53 Gaudentius gives a comparable interpretation and argues that he holds the ministri of the convivium also to be apostles and apostolic priests.54 This concurs with a statement of Pseudo-Maximus, who states that the ministri signify the apostles and the teachers of the Church.55 Those tiny pieces of evidence converge in one direction. When the fathers of the church try to explain the ­diakonoi in John 2, these figures do not lead them to think of slaves or servants 49 

I quote here the translation used by Smith, Ante-Nicene Exegesis of the Gospels, 10. Migne PG 59, 134. Pseudo Hippolytus: “Why did he say, ‘Fill the pots with water?’ Could not He who had through a word created the heaven and established the earth and all things in it, Himself fill the pots? But He said ‘Fill them with water.’ Why? That if any should deny the fact, the hands of those who had filled the water and the shoulders who had carried it might be able to convict them of falsehood.” I quote here Smith, Ante-Nicene Exegesis of the Gospels, 8–9. 51 Smitmans, Das Weinwunder von Kana, 129: “dass Maria die Kirche darstellt, die ihre Priester der von ihr anerkannten Offenbarung des Lehrers Christus unterstellt (Sermo app 92, PL 39, 1923f.).” We have to note that Smitmans translates ministri with priests. Probably one has to translate it with deacons! 52  Pseudo-Augustine, PL 39, 1923–1924, here 1924: Dicit Maria ministris, Facite quaecum­ que jussevit; hoc est, obtemperate doctori, ministris mandat Ecclesia. Qui sunt ministri, nisi officia Levitarum, quae Dei mysteriis sunt deputata? 53  See, for example, the moving story of the martyrdom of Lawrence (Ambrosius, Off. 1, 41, 204–206). The deacon Lawrence, who, seeing Xystus, his bishop being led to martyrdom was weeping. But bishop Xystus said: “Cease weeping; after three days you shall follow me. This interval must come between the priest and his levite.” 54  Tractatus IX, De evangelii lectione, II, CSEL 68, 81: sed iuxta spiritalis convivii ratio­nem primo[s] ministros Novi Testamenti intellego esse apostolos, deinde apostolicos sacerdotes. See also Gaudentius’ interpretation of John 2:6: Vocatis ergo Iesus ministris–apostolis videlicet et eorum successoribus (CSEL 68, 84). 55  Pseudo Maximus B, PL 57, 275–276: Ministri autem qui impleverunt hydrias significant SS. Apostolos et doctores ecclesiae, qui predicant praecepta Dei, de qui recte dicitur: Et impleve­ runt eas usque ad summum. 50  Chyrsostom,

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­ ith a low status; rather, the diakonoi suggest to them persons with a special w role within the narrative of being potential witnesses or persons involved in the proclamation of God’s word.

6. Conclusion The aim and the theme of this article is modest. What is the role and function of the diakonoi in John 2:1–11? We have seen that in the story of John 2:1–11, there are several links to a comparable story in the book of Esther. The diakonoi in the book of Esther act as court-officials in a royal party. Would not the diakonoi in John 2:1–11, especially in combination with the distinctive character of the architriclinos, suggest to contemporary readers of the Gospel that the wedding where Jesus` mother was present and to which Jesus and his disciples were in­ vited, implied a royal occasion? Scarce patristic evidence shows that while the diakonoi are not the most important players in the story, when they do elicit comment it is not in relation to their servility. They have the status of witnesses, of teachers of the church, and even of Levites.

Philip, One of the Seven in Acts (6:1–6; 8:4–40; 21:8) Joke H. A. Brinkhof

The apostles who remained in Jerusalem after the resurrection and ascension of Jesus faced a considerable challenge. Not only the increase in the number of adherents, but also the fact that their work was soon no longer confined to Jerusalem, required some kind of organisation. They energetically took it in hand as we see in Luke’s second book, Acts. Acts can be considered as the main source of New Testament information for the early years of “Christianity.” Luke arranges characters and events in a way that forms an orderly overview to show his addressee Theophilus, “the certainty of those things wherein he has been instructed” (Luke 1: 3–4). This purpose of Luke means that Acts is no simple report of facts and data but a historical monograph.1 However, the author seems to rely on the existing reality of the Christian communities of his day, just as we read in Paul’s letters. Paul presupposes a particular structuring of the people and groups to which he writes, a structure that is recognizable as based on or derived from that of the Jewish community. In the way the expansion of the “Christian movement” is described, there are, besides the apostles, other authoritative disciples in the foreground. This article looks at one of them, Philip, who is known as “one of the seven.” Although the story about the appointment of these seven men for the table service has been seen, since the second century C.E., as the founding of the ordained ministry of deacon (Acts  6:1–6), this article does not focus on the historical reality of Philip or deacons or the development of the ministry of deacons in churches. Philip will be considered, by carefully reading the storylines, as a narrative character, portrayed by the author of Luke-Acts. First, the appointment of these seven men will be discussed (§  1). After this, the focus will be on Stephen and Philip (§  2), two of the seven to whom the author devotes special attention. Though Philip is the main subject of this study, dealing with Stephen (§  3) is necessary to get a closer view on the activities of Philip (§  4) who preaches outside the familiar surroundings of Jerusalem and lays the foun1  See Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Acts of the Apostles: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), 55–60.

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dation for preaching to non-Jews (Acts  7–8). It will be clear that the role of the “deacons” is more than serving at tables (§  5). After this section about Stephen and Phillip, no more “deacons” are mentioned in Acts. Only Philip emerges again many chapters later. He is called “one of the seven” and “evangelist” and is the host of Paul (Acts  21:8). This draws attention to the narrative role of P ­ hilip compared to Peter and Paul (§  6). The concluding section of this article shows that the intermediary work of the seven, or the deacons, is underlined narratively by the way the paragraphs about them in Acts are constructed (§  7–8).2

1. Seven Men Chosen After the departure of Jesus, Acts continues with the selection of a new twelfth apostle. The death of Judas, the traitor (ὁ προδότης, Luke 6:13),3 caused a vacancy. Peter, referring to the book of Psalms (Ps  69:26; 109:8), notes that this apostle had a share in the ministration (ἡ διακονία) of the apostles and was numbered among them (Acts  1:14–20). Therefore someone else has to receive the share of this ministration and apostleship of Judas. Just as Jesus chose his apostles from a larger group of followers (see Luke 6:13), the believers now have the choice of several candidates. Peter sets out the criteria for an apostle. It must be someone (a man) who from the baptism by John until the Ascension was with the apostles and now can be, like them, a witness to the resurrection (Acts  1:21–22). The number of apostles, twelve, matters. That is evident not only because the number of eleven remaining apostles apparently is not sufficient, but also because, although there are two excellent nominees, Justus and Matthias, only one of them is chosen. So not eleven, not thirteen, but twelve. The lot falls upon Matthias. His inclusion in the group of apostles goes without any extra ritual: it is simply said that Matthias is numbered with the eleven. The symbolic value of the number of twelve4 is underlined by the fact that from this point on some of the apostles as individuals are never mentioned again, but, as in the Gospel of 2 In the last decades, several monographs about Philip have been published: F. Scott Spencer, The Portrait of Philip in Acts: A Study of Roles and Relations (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992). Axel Von Dobbeler, Der Evangelist Philippus in der Geschichte des Urchristentums: Eine Prosopographische Skizze (Tübingen: Francke Verlag, 2000). Patric Fabien, Philippe “l’Évangéliste” au tournant de la Mission dans les Acts des Apôtres: Philippe, Simon le Magicien et l’Eunuque Éthiopien (Paris: Cerf, 2010). 3  Unless otherwise stated, references are restricted to Luke-Acts. 4 Besides the number of the apostles, twelve is also the number of the tribes of Israel, according to the sons of Jacob (Gen 49:28; Num 17:16–17; Deut 1:23; Josh 3:12;4:2); the parts of the abused wife of the Levite (Judg 19:29); the water wells at Elim (Num 33:9); the stones in the river to the promised land (Josh 4:1–8); the years of illness of a woman and the age of the daughter of Jairus (Matt 9:20; Mark 5:25,42; Luke 8:42–43); and the age of Jesus when he is found in the midst of the teachers (Luke 2:42).

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Luke, there are references to them as “the apostles”5 or “the twelve” (οἱ δώδεκα),6 which name they have only once in Acts (6:2). These twelve apostles appear to be the leaders of the community in Jerusalem. The title, “the twelve,” for the group of apostles, used in Acts  6:2, creates the connection to the other group of ministers, “the seven.”7 These “seven,” all with Greek names, are introduced in that same pericope (Acts  6:1–6): Stephen, Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolaus. Their number is seven, but in this episode they are not mentioned as such. That will only happen in Acts  21:8, where Philip, the second one in the above list, is called “the evangelist, one of the seven” (Φιλίππου τοῦ εὐαγγελιστοῦ ὄντος ἐκ τῶν ἑπτά). Though they are not called “the seven” at the time of introduction, their number, like that of the twelve, is not random. There is murmuring among the disciples8 because the Hellenists complain that their widows are overlooked in the daily ministration. Then the twelve, mentioned as such, not by their individual names or as “apostles,” propose to choose seven men to fulfil that necessity. So the twelve have a leading role again, being responsible for the number of this group, the criteria that these men must meet, and their profile description. The seven men must be men of the brethren, well testified, and full of the Holy S­ pirit and wisdom (Acts  6:3).9 They will serve at tables (διακονεῖν τραπέζαις). At the same time, the task for the apostles, “the twelve,” is specified. Peter stated in Acts  1:22 that they had to have witnessed the resurrection. Now the twelve define their main occupation and responsibility as prayer and the ministry of the word (ἡ διακονία τοῦ λόγου; Acts  6:4). So the duties of the two groups, the twelve and the seven, are distinguished. Not only their main tasks, but also their relationship is stated. The calling of the apostles by Jesus and the way Matthias was included in the group of apostles are simple and inconspicuous events. Now, for the appointment of the seven men, a more solemn ritual is performed. When the multitude has chosen the seven, the twelve, having prayed, lay their hands upon them. That suggests a kind of hierarchical relationship in the way that the leading functions of the twelve are shared with the seven. Note

5  Luke 6:13; 9:10; 17:5; 22:14; 24:10; Acts  1:2,26; 2:37,42,43; 4:33,35,36,37; 5:2,12,18,29,40; 6:6; 8:1,14,(18); 9:27; 11:1; 14:4,14; 15:2,4,6,22,23; 16:4. 6  Luke 8:1; 9:1; 9:12; 18:31; 22:3; Acts  6:2. 7  Seven is the number of the days of the creation of the world, the Sabbath included (Gen 2:2); the pairs of clean beasts and birds Noah takes with him into the ark (Gen 7:2–3); the years Jacob works for Laban to earn Leah and another seven for Rachel; the years of abundance and of famine in Egypt (Gen 41:53); the daughters of the priest of Midian (Exod 2:16); the days of unleavened bread (Exod 12:15ff); the days of cleansing (Lev 14); the years of the Sabbath for the land and for the jubilee after seven times seven years (Lev 25). 8  Here Luke utilises μαθητής for the first time in Acts. 9  “Wisdom” (σοφία) in LXX is often used as a translation of chochma. For example, wisdom like Solomon’s (1 Kgs 4:29); see Chachamim in the Jewish tradition.

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that the laying on of hands is not combined with the gift of the Spirit: these seven men were already filled with the Spirit (Acts  6:3). What conclusions can we draw about “the seven” from Acts  6:1–6? We see that the need for them arose from the Hellenistic Jewish people in Jerusalem. The solution for the problems they identify is given by the twelve. This name, “the twelve,” is used for the apostles only once in Acts, in this episode. So a parallel can be noticed between the group of “the twelve” and the newly created group of “the seven,” though they are not mentioned as such. The new ministers are brethren, well testified, and full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom, according to the profile specified by the twelve. Given their Greek names and the difficulties in the community of Jerusalem, they are in all probability Hellenistic Jews. The duties of the twelve and the seven are related, but distinguished. At first sight, this distinction is determined by the twelve: the twelve will focus on the service of the word and prayer and the seven on the service of the table.

2. Focus on Stephen and Philip After this introduction of the seven men, more details are given about the activities of two of them, Stephen and Philip. None of the other five is mentioned again after their election. In that respect they resemble the twelve. However, although the names of most of the apostles are not mentioned again after the choice of Matthias they still have, unlike the seven, a role as a collective. As already noted, the number seven has symbolic value. Therefore, the names of all seven are mentioned. Maybe Luke learned about them from tradition or his own research, without knowing more details about each of them or about their function.10 Whatever the case, it is irrelevant for our purpose of considering the narrative portrait of Philip that Luke sketches. Luke has no need to tell about each of them, but he gives a comprehensive report about the first two of “the seven,” Stephen and Philip. Given that the other five are ignored, it can be determined that all Luke has to tell about “the seven” is included in the stories of Stephen and Philip. They together are the prototype of the seven, or of “deacons.” It is characteristic of Luke to make his point by telling two comparable stories about more or less parallel characters, like the birth and beginnings of Jesus and John, and Peter and Paul in Acts.11 He does the same with Stephen 10  See, among others, Fitzmyer, Acts of the Apostles, 344–45. Earl Richard, “Luke: Author and Thinker,” in New Views on Luke and Acts (ed. Earl Richard; Collegeville: Liturgical, 1990), 22. 11  See Joop F.M. Smit, “The Function of the Two Quotations from Isaiah in Luke 3–4,” in The Scriptures of Israel in Jewish and Christian Tradition (eds. Bart J. Koet et al.; F.S. Maarten J. J. Menken; Leiden: Brill, 2013), 42–55; David P. Moessner, “The Christ Must Suffer. New Light on the Jesus – Peter, Stephen, Paul Parallels in Luke-Acts,” in The Composition of Luke’s Gospel: Selected Studies from Novum Testamentum (ed. David E. Orton; Leiden: Brill,

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and Philip, and, as we will see later, with Philip and Simon who practices magic (Acts  8:5–13). After the narrative of the creation of this group of seven and their command to serve at the tables, one would expect that the first thing they do is to start waiting at tables (διακονεῖν τραπέζαις, Acts  6:1–3). In contrast, the pericope ends with the same theme that started it: the growth of the community (Acts  6:1,7; see Acts  2:47; 4:4; 5:14,16). Thereafter, it moves firstly to Stephen and his work (Acts  6:8–8:2), and secondly to the activities of Philip (Acts  8:1–40; 21:8).

3. Stephen Stephen is well-known as the first martyr among the disciples of Jesus. After his introduction in Acts  6:5, as the first one of the seven, Stephen is described as a man of grace and power who does great wonders and signs (τέρατα, σημεῖα) among the people. That causes discussion (συζητέω)12 with the “synagogue of the Libertines,” Cyrenians and Alexandrians, and people of Cilicia and of Asia. As Luke tells, they are not able to withstand the wisdom of Stephen. That this discussion concerns Scripture is clear: at the Sanhedrin they accuse Stephen of blasphemous words against Moses, God, and the temple (Acts  6:15). Though “the seven” are chosen due to complaints by the Hellenists, it is now the same Greek-speaking people that bring up false witnesses for these accusations (Acts  6:13). It illustrates that the harmonious congregation as presented by Luke in Acts  2:42–22 and 4:32– 37 is now divided, as was already announced by the problems with Ananias and Sapphira (Acts  5). The focus in this section is on the difficulties between the Greek-speaking groups and others in the Jewish community. The witnesses brought up against Stephen are false (ψευδής) (not law-abiding), as were those against Jesus in Mark 14:56–57. In that verse one finds, like in Acts  6:13, the alleged quote of Jesus that He will destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days. By reworking the material of Mark, Luke creates parallelism between Stephen and 1999), 117–53; Henry J. Cadbury, The Making of Luke-Acts (London: S.P.C.K., 21958, New York: The Macmillan Company, 11927), 232. Peter and Paul both heal people, even if they are not present themselves (Acts  5:12–16 // 19:11–12). Both healed a paralytic (Acts  3:1–10 // 14:8– 10). The resurrection of Tabitha by Peter (Acts  9:36–41) has a parallel in the resurrection of Eutychus by Paul (Acts  20:9–10). Both Peter and Paul are given the opportunity to be freed from prison (Acts  12:6–10 // 19:23–40). Both are called by a double name: “Simon, Simon” (Luke 22:31), “Saul, Saul” (Acts  9:4); Eq. Marc Rastoin, “Simon-Pierre entre Jésus et Satan,” Biblica 89 (2008): 163. The gift of the Spirit in Ephesus to twelve men after Paul had imposed his hands (Acts  19:1–7) is reminiscent of Pentecost, where Peter is present (Acts  1:26 [twelve] –2:4), and there is parallelism between Peter’s encounter with Simon from the world of “magic” (Acts  8:14–24) and Saul with the magician Bar-Jesus (Acts  13:6–12). 12  Bart J. Koet, Five Studies on Interpretation of Scripture in Luke-Acts (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1989), 58–60, notes that this discussion concerns the interpretation of Scripture.

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J­ esus (see also the parallelism between the pouring out of the blood of Stephen and Jesus, ἐκχύννομαι (Acts  22:20 // Luke 22:20). In reaction to these accusations, Stephen gets the opportunity to recount and explain to the Sanhedrin the whole Jewish history in the light of Jesus. It is a well-outlined speech, with resemblance to other speeches such as Joshua 24 and Ezekiel 20:5–44. It is no defence speech, as one would expect from the accused Stephen. Stephen instead emerges as a preacher, a servant of the word, like the apostles. The result is great anger and the lynching of Stephen, who in the end witnesses the resurrection of Jesus as the Son of Man, standing in heaven. Saul witnesses Stephen’s death and approves of it (Acts  7:58; 8:1). The first time Stephen is mentioned in Acts, he is one of the men chosen for the service at the table of the widows of the Hellenists. However, he is not portrayed as a waiter for the Greek widows: his biography shows a man who by wonders, signs, and words presents Jesus as the Son of Man. Greek-speaking Jews are the ones who bring him up before the Sanhedrin, and it is the Sanhedrin that will listen and stone him to death. The whole narrative about Stephen is located in Jerusalem, barring his death. Like Jesus, he is put to death outside the city of Jerusalem and prays for his killers (Acts  7:58–60 // Luke 23:34.46).

4. Philip The death of Stephen forms the beginning of violence against the gathering (ἐκκλησία) of Jerusalem, with Saul as persecutor (Acts  8:1,3). Except for the apostles, the believers are scattered abroad in the regions of Judea and Samaria and, having been scattered, they “bring the good news” (εὐαγγελίζομαι). One of them is Philip, the second one of the seven, who comes to Samaria (Acts  8:5). The long speech by Stephen with its dramatic consequences creates a gap between the introduction of Philip in Acts  6 and his presentation in Acts  8. At several points there are similarities between Philip and Stephen. Not only are they equally chosen for the service at the tables (Acts  6), they also both show (great) signs, and neither Stephen nor Philip are described as a table servant. There are also striking differences. One of these is a remarkable change in setting: no longer is Jerusalem the location, but the wider environs, according to Acts  1:8 “all Judea, and Samaria, and unto the end of the earth.” Philip’s mission underlines this spreading out, as he is found in Samaria (Acts  8:5), the south road from Jerusalem to Gaza, the desert (Acts  8:26), and Azotus and Caesarea (Acts  8:40; 21:8). The story of Philip in Acts has four episodes. After the introduction in Acts  6 , by far the longest two are in Acts  8. Philip then appears once more in Acts  21:8. There he is described as an evangelist (εὐαγγελιστής) in Caesarea, with four prophesying daughters (see Acts  2:17). Paul finds shelter in his house.

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Philip, as one of the seven wise men, well known and filled with the Holy Spirit, appears as a preacher of “good news” (εὐαγγελίζομαι). “Bringing good news” is already identified with the people who fled from Jerusalem (Acts  8:4) and is personalised by Philip in Samaria: he brings the good news of the Kingdom of God (Acts  8:12), preceded by the declaration that he is proclaiming the Christ (Acts  8:5). Philip is the first one in Acts who is “proclaiming” (κηρύσσω,13 Acts  8:5) – proclaiming in the gospel of Luke is a mission for John the Baptist, Jesus, and the apostles.14 He is also the first one, beside the apostles, to call ­Jesus “the Christ” (ὁ Χριστός, Acts  8:5).15 In bringing “good news of the Kingdom of God,” Philip shows more understanding than the apostles themselves, who no longer spoke of this kingdom since they were taught by Jesus about the restoration of Israel (Acts  1:6). The “good news” proclaimed by Philip is accompanied by signs and healings and, unlike those performed by Stephen (Acts  6:8), there are details about the kind of healings: unclean spirits came forth and paralytics and the lame were healed (πνεῦμα ἀκάθαρτον, παραλελυμένος, χωλός, Acts  8:7). Philip stands out most of all because he baptises. In Samaria, it is the result of the faith of the people and told in a modest way; in the following story of Philip with the Ethiopian eunuch it forms, together with the explanation and catechesis by Philip, the plot of the story, emphasizing the act of baptizing itself (Acts  8:38). Most of the time, Acts is not very explicit with regard to baptism. However, from the start there is a difference between baptising (βαπτίζω) with water and baptising with the Spirit. The baptism of the disciples with the Holy Spirit, as Jesus announces (Acts  1:5), manifests itself in the Pentecostal story with the sound of wind and tongues of fire and speaking in tongues (Acts  2:1–4). Later, Peter calls for repentance and baptism: so the baptised will receive the Holy Spirit (Acts  2:38–41). Until Acts  8 there is no more about baptism. In Samaria it is almost casually mentioned (Acts  8:13–14). By omitting the details, as is always the case prior to this episode, Philip is typified like the apostles, following their mode of baptism (Acts  2:38–41). What follows gives an extra dimension: the apostles come from Jerusalem because the Samaritans have been baptised, but have not received the Holy ­Spirit (Acts  8:14–17). After prayer and the laying on of hands by the apostles, the people of Samaria accept the Holy Spirit. Not “by” the hands of the apostles: the apostles don’t give the Holy Spirit, but the Samaritans accept Him (λαμβάνω, Acts  8:15,17). The laying on of hands is a ritual similar to the “ordination” of the seven. The suggestion is that there are two different powers, baptising and laying on of hands, of which the latter is reserved for the apostles. So in this epi13  κηρύσσω and εὐαγγελίζομαι are related in meaning. See Luke 4:18–19,43–44; 8:1; 9:1–6; Acts  10:34–43; and this episode about Philip in Acts  8:4–12. 14  Luke 3:3; 4:18,19,44; 8:1,39; 9:2; 12:3; 24:47. 15  Besides Acts  8:5, “proclaiming of the Christ,” see particularly Acts  9:20; 10:42; 19:13; as well as Acts  10:37; 15:21; 20:25; 28:31.

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sode, the twelve and the seven do not so much differ in their tasks, as was said in Acts  6, but even more in their abilities.16 The additional ritual also raises questions about the baptism by Philip. Is his baptism permissible, valid, sufficient (see Acts  19:1–5)? However, the succeeding story of Philip nuances the strict distinction between both groups as Philip’s journey is inspired and guided by an angel and the Holy Spirit. Combined with the details of the initiation of the eunuch – reading and interpreting Scripture, the confession of faith, and the baptising in water – it acts as an authorisation of Philip from heaven (Acts  8:27– 39). This is underlined by the sudden disappearance of Philip after the baptism, caused by the Spirit of the Lord. He is found at Azotus, and passes through, proclaiming good news (εὐαγγελίζομαι) till his coming to Caesarea. That is where, later, he hosts Paul, and is called “evangelist” and “one of the seven” (Φιλίππου τοῦ εὐαγγελιστοῦ ὄντος ἐκ τῶν ἑπτά, Acts  21:8). Like Stephen, Philip is not depicted as a waiter at the table for the widows of the Hellenists. But whereas Stephen is portrayed as one looking like Jesus, ­Philip more resembles the apostles: healing, baptising, and bringing good news. He is the first one who goes out of Jerusalem and turns to the people, starting in Samaria.

5. The Seven Profiled by Stephen and Philip After this closer look at Stephen and Philip, the image of the seven as presented in Acts becomes clearer. At their election, a profile was given: it was stated that they should be men well testified of, full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom. They are chosen out of and by the multitude and had hands laid on them by the apostles. The twelve shared their ministry with them and gave them the task of serving at tables, as an answer to the need of the widows of Hellenists in Jerusalem. Immediately following the selection of these seven men, how they in fact realise their job is depicted. Stephen, in Jerusalem, proves to be a man of wonders and signs and full of wisdom and the spirit in which he was speaking. He pays for his testimony before the Sanhedrin with death and is sketched with features of Jesus. Philip leaves Jerusalem and travels to Samaria and via the desert and Azotus to Caesarea, meanwhile doing signs and healings, preaching, and baptising. So, according to the author of Acts, ministering at the tables (διακονεῖν τραπέζαις) is not restricted to service as a waiter. Stephen and Philip, and their unmentioned 16  Also Saul/Paul is not baptised by an apostle, but by Ananias (see Acts  9:17–18; 10:44– 48; 13:12,48; 22:16. Acts  19:2–7 refers to the baptism by John (see Acts  1:5). This baptism is not associated with the Holy Spirit and is renewed by Paul’s, including laying on hands and the receipt of the Holy Spirit (see Acts  8). Paul also baptises Lydia (Acts  16:15) and a jailer (Acts  16:33).

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fellow deacons, also share in the ministry of the word, though the apostles formulated that as their own main job (Acts  6:2). The concept of “deacon” (διάκονος) in Acts therefore must be understood to be wider than that of waiting and table service. Collins, who argues that the original meaning of διακονέω and διάκονος can be found in the semantic field of “mediation, intercession, agency and mission in the name of a principal,” suggests that the seven, speaking Greek, had to preach for the Greek-speaking widows.17 They are, so to speak, the interpreters of the apostles. Koet refines this interpretation using the relationship with Luke 10:25–42 and states that the διακονία of the word and material care belong together, in the way that listening comes before doing.18 The stories about Stephen and Philip together show the conjunction of these aspects in a narrative way. Most obvious is the order of their performances: first the long speech of Stephen, secondly more detail about the activities and doings of Philip. They also connect Jerusalem (Stephen) and the Gentiles via the Greek widows in ­Jerusalem and the people of Samaria (Philip) and bring in, by the emphasis on Greek, strangers with new languages and habits and from new areas. Last but not least: the narrative of these “deacons” adds to the transition from Peter to Paul. That will be demonstrated by focussing on some characteristics of the setting of their narratives and a previously “neglected” episode in the story of Philip: the encounter of Philip and Simon, succeeded by the encounter with Peter (Acts  8:9–13:18–24).

6. Philip, Simon, Peter, and Paul When Philip arrives in Samaria he finds Simon, a man who practices magic and who is very celebrated in the city.19 The signs of both Simon and Philip are impressive. Still, Simon is starting to believe Philip and he was baptised, like all of the Samaritans. So far this scene can be interpreted as a victory for Philip’s message about Jesus Christ over the world of magic. The next episode, when the apostles come from Jerusalem to Samaria to lay hands upon the new believers reveals a different picture. Philip himself is not mentioned in these events. The demand of Simon, and his offering money to be allowed to partake in the pow17  John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 230–32, 329. Anni Hentschel (Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Stu­ dien zur Semantik under besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen [Tübingen, Mohr Siebeck, 2007]) confirms, for the most part, Collins‘ findings. 18  Bart J. Koet, “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts  6 ,1–7: a Lukan Diptych on διακονία,” in Studies in the Greek Bible. (eds. Jeremy Corley and Vincent Skemp; FS Francis T Gignac: Washington DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 2008), 163–85. 19 Joke H.A. Brinkhof, Zicht op de Volkeren: Een Portret van Simon in Handelingen 8,5–24 (Bergambacht: Uitgeverij 2VM, 2015).

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er to impose hands, is rejected by Peter forcefully. He describes Simon as a sorcerer, one who engages in the habits of the foreign nations, the Gentiles, habits prohibited for Israel. So the encounter of Philip and Simon ends up in a heavy confrontation between Peter and Simon, between an apostle and a, perhaps Gentile, stranger, raising the question of whether Philip made a mistake. Why did he baptise ­Simon? Why did he not see what Peter sees? To understand this episode, the author provides some tools. One of these is the parallelism between Simon and Philip.20 Both Philip and Simon are impressive and get great support from the Samaritans (προσέχω, Acts  8:6,10,11) and both cause amazement (ἐξίστημι, Acts  8:9,11,13). The relationship between Philip and Simon is also conveyed at word level: “say” (λέγω) used with regard to both Philip and Simon (see Acts  8:6,9,10) and the subtle play with the words “big” and “magic” (μέγας // μάγος, μαγεύω, Acts  8:7,9,10,11,13). The parallelism between Philip and Simon is like the similarity between Stephen and Philip, but in this case to show the ways in which they differ. The scene ends with the greatness of the word of Philip above the magic and great power of Simon (Acts  8:9,13) and the remaining of Simon with Philip. Another tool is the absence of Philip when Peter encounters Simon. Not Philip, but Simon is corrected, and therefore the scene is not meant to degrade Philip. By winning Simon, whom all of Samaria admired, Philip didn’t make a miscalculation. Instead, he was one of the first disciples to fulfil the mission Jesus gave them: to preach repentance and remission of sins in Jesus’s name among all nations (Luke 24:47; see Acts  1:8). Philip does not hesitate to meet the Gentiles and accepts them with all their oddities and particularities.21 Maybe Peter, however, shies away from the consequences of preaching outside Jerusalem to the nations. That may be one of the reasons for his refusal to give Simon part or lot in the matter (λόγος) of the apostles (Acts  8:21). To guide the reader in this direction, Luke provides another tool: the name “Simon.” The only characters in the present scene are Simon and Peter, who not accidently is also named Simon.22 That name hearkens back to Luke 22:31–32, where Jesus calls Peter by name: “Simon, Simon” and asks him to strengthen his brethren after he has “turned” (ἐπιστρέφω). In my thesis, I argued that this “turn” is not Peter’s remorse after betraying Jesus, but his turn to 20 This parallelism is often noticed, see, for example, Von Dobbeler, Philippus, 50–67; Spencer, Philip, 88–127; Fabien, Philippe, 80–83; Patrick Fabien, “La Conversion de Simon le Magicien (Ac 8,4–25),” Biblica 91 (2010): 210–40, 220; Hans-Josef Klauck, Magic and Paganism in Early Christianity: The World of the Acts of the Apostles (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000), 17–19; Andy M. Reimer, Miracle and Magic: A Study in the Acts of the Apostles and the Life of Apollonius of Tyana (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 1. 21  Von Dobbeler, Philippus, 64–67. 22  Peter named “Simon” or “Simon Peter” in the works of Luke: Luke 4:38 (2x); 5:3,4,5,8,10 (2x); 6:14; 22:31 (2x); 24:34; Acts  10:5,18,32; 11:13.

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the Gentiles.23 A serious step in this is made by the encounter of Peter and Simon. It is the first time in Acts that Peter leaves Jerusalem and makes his first turn to the Gentiles.24 Later on, during his second journey outside Jerusalem, he again is named Simon, also called Peter, when he is with Simon the tanner (Acts  9:43). The “turn to the Gentiles” is worked out in Acts  10 and, as Acts  15:7– 11 demonstrates, Peter convinces the brethren to welcome the Gentiles (see Luke 22:32). The last tool to mention is the encounter of Peter precisely with a man practicing “magic” (Acts  8:9). One other confrontation with a magician is reported about Saul, the one in Acts who actually shows the “turn to the Gentiles.” Saul is not mentioned, but he frames the narrative about Philip, and so this episode with Simon. Paul, at that time still named Saul, was introduced as a witness of Stephen’s death (Acts  7:58; 8:1). The next time he appears in Acts is just after the narrative about Philip, when Saul is going to Damascus. On his way to that city, he sees the light, is baptised by Ananias, and becomes a follower of Jesus, instead of the persecutor he was. On one of his later trips he encounters Bar-Jesus, a magician at the court of Sergius Paul (Acts  13:6–12). Remarkably, after this meeting Saul’s name will be “Paul.” This confrontation with a magician and the scene of Peter and Simon is one of the parallels in the description of Peter and Paul in Acts.25 Two encounters with magic, one by Peter, one by Paul. The challenge of Peter and Simon, embedded in the narrative about Philip, is also like a prolepsis or preview concerning the turn to the Gentiles as well as the alteration of the main character from Peter to Paul. An extra indication to see this episode as a preview lays in the fact that proclaiming the Kingdom of God, started by Philip (Acts  8:12) is exclusively taken up by Paul.26

7. Philip, a Relating “Deacon” and Evangelist As has been shown, the men chosen for the ministry at the tables (διακονεῖν τραπέζαις) have in several respects a mediating task. Their attention should first be turned to the widows of the Hellenists, though it is not entirely clear what needs they meet or how they fulfill their services. The twelve give them a mandate to share in their tasks, but make a distinction between ministry of the word and ministry of the table. When the seven, being table ministers, actually appear also to be ministers of the word and preach and demonstrate signs and wonders 23 Brinkhof,

Zicht op de Volkeren, 217–18. The Mount called Olivet in Acts  1:12 is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath’s day journey. 25  For example, healings: Acts  5:12–16 // 19:11–12; Acts  3:1–10 // 14:8–10); raising of Tabitha and Eutychus: Acts  9:36–41 // 20:9–10); opportunity to escape from prison: Acts  12:6–10 // 19:23–40). See Moessner, “The Christ Must Suffer,” 117–53. 26  Acts  14:22; 19:8; 20:25; 28:23,31. 24 

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like the apostles, they fully share in that apostolic ministry and hold the two ministries of word and table together. Both the apostles and the seven are filled by the Holy Spirit, and both groups reveal Jesus by their preaching, signs, and healings. Still there is a distinction between the twelve and the seven. The apostles ground their ministry in their direct relationship to Jesus, as witnesses of him and his resurrection (Luke 24:45–49; Acts  1:8,21–22), the seven, meanwhile, form the next generation. There is no sharp boundary between these generations, as the apostles don’t give up their ministry and retire when the seven are “ordained.” By laying on hands, they seem to wear and share their ministry. The seven themselves are connected to the apostles as well by the laying upon of hands, as they are witnesses of the word spoken in Jerusalem by these apostles. They, in turn, witness and speak that word to the world. In their appearance like Jesus and the apostles, they are the agents of the apostles to the world. So they create a smooth transition to other leading people in the Christian movement. After this episode we see several people act like the twelve, for instance Ananias who baptises Saul, or Saul himself, proclaiming his message all over the earth. The seven also open the closed world of Jerusalem and the Jews. The seven were originally chosen in Jerusalem for the Hellenistic widows, and all have Greek names. This emphasis on the Greek language forms a narrative link to the “strangers” in Jerusalem and the surrounding areas. Stephen stays in Jerusalem, and presumably speaks Hebrew at the Sanhedrin. Philip, however, leaves Jerusalem for Samaria and beyond and creates the transition to strangers and Gentiles all over the world.

8. Conclusion: Luke Underlines the Relating Function of the Seven in the Composition of the Narrative The scenes about Stephen and Philip are embedded in a transitional episode of Acts: from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth, from the apostles to others, from Jews to the Gentiles, and from Peter to Paul. Though Stephen and Philip are linked together, both with their own unique characteristics, it is evident that Stephen takes care of Jerusalem and Philip provides the wider perspective. In the story of the latter, all these bridges are constructed and therefore Philip, sharing in the tasks of the apostles, rightly gets the title “evangelist, bringer of good news.” In Acts  21:8–9, he receives Paul in his house in Caesarea where his four prophesying daughters are also mentioned. Thus the title “evangelist” is not a “slip of the pen” by Luke, the author of Acts, but represents his vision that, like the apostles, “deacons” in words and deeds spread the good news of the Kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ all over the world.

What did Phoebe’s Position and Ministry as Διάκονος of the Church at Cenchrea Involve? Margaret Mowczko

1. Introducing Phoebe Phoebe of Cenchrea is one of at least ten women mentioned in chapter 16 of Paul’s letter to the Romans.1 She had left her hometown of Cenchrea, a busy sea port approximately ten kilometres east of Corinth, and had travelled to Rome carrying Paul’s letter. It is likely that some members of the church at Rome, such as Priscilla and Aquila, already knew her. (According to Acts  18:18–19, this ­couple had ministered in Corinth for about eighteen months and then set sail for Ephesus from Phoebe’s home town.) Whether she was known or not, Paul ­follows the style of a letter of recommendation and introduces Phoebe to the Romans.2 The New Revised Standard Version translates Paul’s introduction of Phoebe as follows:

1  Paul commended Phoebe to a church he had not founded and not yet visited. Despite not having first-hand knowledge of the church in Rome, Paul is already acquainted with some of their members, such as Priscilla and Aquila. Other Roman Christians he may have known by reputation. However, some scholars, for example Günther Bornkamm, believe that the last chapter of Romans was not originally part of Paul’s letter to the Romans, but part of a letter that Paul wrote to the Christians in Ephesus. See Günther Bornkamm, Paul (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 80. (Paul was well acquainted with the Christians in the Ephesian church.) Susan Mathew provides a short but useful discussion on whether Romans 16 was a letter intended for the Ephesians, but concludes it was an integral part of Romans. Susan Mathew, Women in the Greetings of Romans 16.1–16: A Study of Mutuality and Women’s Ministry in the Letter to the Romans (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2013), 4–5. In this chapter on Phoebe, I assume that Romans 16 was originally part of Paul’s letter to the Romans. 2  The verb προσδέχομαι, used in Rom  16:2 and meaning “welcome/receive,” is “commonly employed in diplomatic correspondence for receiving a messenger.” Lynn H. Cohick, Women in the World of the Earliest Christians: Illuminating Ancient Ways of Life (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), 304. The same verb occurs in Phil  2:29 where Paul asks the church in Philippi to “welcome/receive” Epaphroditus. Furthermore, Paul’s recommendation of Phoebe to the church at Rome is not unlike his recommendation of Timothy to the church at Corinth (1 Cor  16:10–11). Paul wanted the respective churches to welcome Phoebe and Timothy and hold them in high regard. There is nothing in Rom  16:1–2 to indicate that Phoebe’s role in the

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I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon of the church at Cenchreae, so that you may welcome her in the Lord as is fitting for the saints, and help her in whatever she may require from you, for she has been a benefactor of many and of myself as well. (Rom  16:1–2)

In his commendation Paul describes Phoebe with three different phrases. He refers to her as “our sister,” as “διάκονος of the church at Cenchrea,” and as “a benefactor (προστάτις) of many.” In this chapter, I discuss each of these descriptions and what they tell us about Phoebe’s position and ministry. I especially look at her role as διάκονος and at what this role involved. Note that the word “minister” is used throughout this chapter with a general sense of a person who was regularly involved in, and devoted to, significant service to the church and its mission. These ministers were not necessarily leaders. Nevertheless, I will argue that Phoebe’s ministry did involve leadership.

2. “Our Sister” Paul’s first description of Phoebe is “our sister.” “Sister” may simply be an acknowledgement that Phoebe is a fellow member of the Christian community, as the kinship of brothers (ἀδελφοί), or siblings, is one of the primary paradigms for relationships among Jesus-followers in New Testament churches. However, ­“sister” and “brother” were also used in specific contexts. For example, “sister/ brother” is one of Paul’s favourite words for a co-worker or a prominent Christian (for example, Titus in 2 Cor  2:13; Tychicus in Eph  6:21 and Col  4:7; and Apphia3 in Phlm 1:2).4 Furthermore, letter carriers who carried correspondence between churches were often referred to as “sister/brother.”5 This designation made it clear that the carrier, who may have travelled a long distance on a difficult journey, should be welcomed and cared for by the community as a fellow member. The contexts of prominent Christian and of letter carrier both apply to Phoebe.

church was any less significant or less official than those of Epaphroditus or Timothy, or of any of Paul’s other coworkers. 3  Apphia in Colossae has been thought to be Philemon’s wife, but Paul does not mention Apphia and Philemon together as he does with Priscilla and Aquila, or Andronicus and Junia, who were couples. Philemon, Apphia, as well as Archippus, are each addressed individually in the Greek of Phlm 1:1–2. It is possible that Apphia had a ministry and a position in the church at Colossae much like Phoebe did in Cenchrea. 4  Edward Earle Ellis observes, “The designations most often given to Paul’s fellow workers are in descending order of frequency as follows: coworker (synergos), brother (adelphos) [or sister (adelphē), as in the cases of Phoebe and Apphia], minister (diakonos) [also used for Phoebe] and apostle (apostolos).” On the same page, Ellis also notes that “brother/sister” occurs in close connection with the word diakonos in Paul’s letters. Edward Earle Ellis, “Paul and his Coworkers,” in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters (eds. Gerald Hawthorne and Ralph Martin; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1993), 183. 5 Ben Witherington, Paul’s Letter to the Romans: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary

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The inclusion of the pronoun “our” (ἡμῶν) would have further helped to ­facilitate a ready acceptance of Phoebe by the Roman Christians. 6 “Our sister” denotes a solidarity between Paul and Phoebe.7 Paul is claiming her as his sister and is implicitly encouraging the Romans to do likewise. Along with a sense of solidarity, there is also a sense of obligation. Lynn Cohick states, “As a sister in the household of God, Phoebe would be expected to use her resources to better the lives of her brothers and sisters.”8 Phoebe appears to have been fulfilling this obligation in her role as προστάτις.

3. “A Benefactor of Many” The feminine noun προστάτις occurs once in the New Testament, in Romans 16:2, and its meaning here has been debated. (The masculine form of this word, προστάτης, does not occur in the New Testament.) Kevin Giles writes, “In either its masculine or feminine form it means literally ‘one who stands before.’ This meaning is never lost whether it be translated leader, president, protector or patron.”9 Paul Trebilco has observed a development in the meaning of προστάτης in Greek texts written by Jewish authors: In the LXX and in the three intertestamental texts in which the term occurs, προστάτης means “leader” or “ruler” and never “patron.” In the writings of Josephus and Philo [which are more contemporaneous with Paul’s writings than the LXX] both meanings of the term [“leader” and “patron”] are equally prominent and occasionally the term also means “champion.”10

Thus, in the first century C. E., the word had a broader range of meanings in Jewish writings than previously. However προστα(τ)- words were also used in non-­Jewish documents with these senses, including the sense of patronage. As one example, the extensive inscriptions about the patronage of Junia Theodora, a woman who lived in Corinth around the same time as Phoebe, show that προστα(τ)- words were used in Greco-Roman society for patrons and patronage.11 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 382. On the same page, Witherington provides the example of P.Oxy. 56.3857. 6  Pronouns are not necessary in ancient Greek as their sense may be implied by the use of a definite article. Paul’s inclusion of the pronoun makes the sense of “our” explicit. 7  Robert Jewett, Romans: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 945. 8 Cohick, Women in the World of the Earliest Christians, 304. 9  Kevin Giles, Patterns of Ministry Among the First Christians (Sydney: Collins Dove, 1989), 36. 10  Paul R. Trebilco, Jewish Communities in Asia Minor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 109. In endnote 28 on page 230, Trebilco identifies the three intertestamental texts as 1 Esd 2:12 (see 6:18), Sir 45:24, and 2 Macc 3:4. 11  Προστασία (“patronage”) occurs on the 77th line of the stele that commemorates the

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While προστάτης occurs just once in the New Testament, and in the feminine form, participles and infinitives of the cognate verb προΐστημι occur eight times. Twice they are used in the context of church governance (1 Thess 5:12; 1 Tim  5:17; see 1 Tim  3:4 and 12).12 Was Phoebe a leader or the president of the church at Cenchrea? This may well have been the case, but it is implausible that she was a leader of Paul. The translation of προστάτις as “patron” or “benefactor,” rather than “leader,” fits with what Paul says about Phoebe, that “she has been a benefactor of many and of myself as well” (Rom  16:2 NRSV). A few English translations of Romans 16:2 render προστάτις as “helper” (for example, NASB), but this translation is inadequate.13 “Helper” does not convey the senses of prominence and power that a προστάτις or προστάτης had in Greco-Roman society. James Dunn notes the bias against recognising Phoebe as an influential woman, and states, “The unwillingness of commentators to give προστάτις its most natural and obvious sense of patron is most striking.”14 He adds that, unlike many modern readers, Paul’s original audience “were unlikely to think of Phoebe as other than a figure of significance whose wealth and influence had been put at the disposal of the church at Cenchrea.”15 Patronage was an important feature of first-century Greco-Roman society, at every level. Seneca described it as “the chief bond of human society” (De Beneficiis 1.4.2). Livia, the wife of Caesar Augustus, had “invented new ways of extending patronage”16 and, after her husband’s death in 14 C.E., she “developed a more overt presence in a wide variety of public forums.”17 Other wealthy women followed Livia’s example and funded public works, public events, and public people, thereby increasing their own public profiles.18 Commenting on the inscriptions that praise the patronage of Junia Theodora,19 R.A. Kearsley patronage of Junia Theodora. See Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, St Paul’s Corinth: Texts and Archaeology (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2002), 82–84. 12  Infinitives of προΐστημι occur in Titus 3:8 and 14 in the context of “good works” (see 1 Tim  3:1). It may be that in all eight occurrences of προΐστημι in the New Testament (in Rom  12:8; 1 Thess 5:12; 1 Tim  3:4,5,12; 5:17; Titus 3:8,14) there is a sense of “caring” combined with a sense of “leading,” especially as it was wealthier people, those who had the resources of both time and money, who could take on the responsibilities of leading and “good works.” 13  In the ninth-century uncial manuscripts F and G, the word προστάτις is replaced by παραστάτις, a word which can be translated as “helper” or “assistant.” The overwhelming textual evidence, however, indicates that προστάτις is the original word in Rom  16:2. 14  James D.G. Dunn, Romans 9–16 (Word Biblical Commentary, Vol 38B; Dallas: Word, 1988), 888. 15 Dunn, Romans 9–16, 889. 16  Beth Severy, Augustus and the Family at the Birth of the Roman Empire (London: Rout­ ledge, 2004), 234. 17 Severy, Augustus and the Family, 236. 18  Rosalinde A. Kearsley writes about Livia as a role model for wealthy women in “Wo­men and Public Life in Imperial Asia Minor: Hellenistic Tradition and Augustan Ideology,” Ancient West and East 4/1 (2005): 98–121. 19 Like Phoebe, “There is no sign of father, or husband either, guiding or controlling

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observes that this woman “not only appears to be acting independently, she is living a very public life circulating freely within the high-ranking, predominately male world of government and commerce in Corinth.”20 Customs surrounding patronage enabled women, as well as men, to exercise leadership in society.21 These customs also enabled patrons to exercise leadership in churches. We know that Christianity attracted wealthy women who were already prominent in their communities (for example, Acts  17:4,12). As patrons within their churches, these women would have had a high level of influence.22 This was especially true if the patron was also the host of a church, as may often have been the case.23 It is widely acknowledged that, for the first two hundred and fifty years of the Christian movement, most church meetings were held in homes, including homes where a woman was the primary householder.24 Since [Junia Theodora’s] actions.” Rosalinde A. Kearsley, “Women in Public Life in the Roman East: Iunia Theodora, Claudia Metrodora and Phoebe, Benefactress of Paul,” Tyndale Bulletin 50/2 (1999): 189–211, 196. 20  Kearsley, “Women in Public Life in the Roman East,” 197. 21 The practice of patronage was informal and voluntary, but there were certain social constraints and reciprocal obligations involving the client-patron relationship. These constraints and obligations were an extension of the honour-shame dynamic that pervaded Greco­-Roman society, and the typical client-patron relationship was one of unequal power. A wealthy man or woman who made a generous donation to his or her city, community, guild, or to an individual, etc., was able to exercise considerable influence and power. Patrons expected loyalty, public support, as well as public praise that reinforced or elevated the patron’s level of honour. In Christian communities, some of these dynamics would have been temper­ ed, but patrons still had clout. See Carolyn Osiek, “Diakonos and Prostatis: Women’s Patronage in Early Christianity,” HTS Theological Studies 61/1&2 (2005): 346–70; David deSilva, Honor, Patronage, Kinship and Purity: Unlocking New Testament Culture (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 2000); Bruce Winter, Seek the Welfare of the City: Christians as Benefactors and Citizens (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994). 22  In the following centuries, wealthy women who acted as patrons in the church continu­ ed to be influential, even as other ministerial functions and positions were increasingly denied to them. In many churches, male clergy “welcomed women as patrons and even offered wo­ men roles in which they could act as collaborators. By 200 AD, the role of women [as patrons and collaborators] in Christian churches was quite unmistakeable.” Peter Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), 144–45. Like the apostle Paul, and even Jesus (Luke 8:1–3), some of the “great” men of early Christianity, such as Origen, Jerome and Chrysostom, were supported by wealthy female friends and patronesses. 23  “Hosting early Christian gatherings was one embodiment of patronage as it entailed benefactions by a patron, the host, for a group of believers in the form of a gathering space.” Kaisa-Maria Pihlava, “The Authority of Women Hosts of Early Christian Gatherings in the First and Second Centuries C.E.” (Dissertation; Helsinki: University of Helsinki, 2016), 76. 24  The custom of meeting in homes is well attested in the New Testament. Wayne Meeks observes, “In four places in the Pauline letters, specific congregations are designated by the phrase hē kat’ oikon (+ possessive pronoun) ekklēsia, which we may tentatively translate ‘the assembly at N’s household.’” Wayne Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 75. Three prominent women are named in the New Testament in connection with each of these four house churches (Priscilla with her husband Aquila: Rom  16:3–5 and 1 Cor  16:19; Apphia: Phlm 1:1–2; and Nympha:

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Phoebe was wealthy enough to be a “patron of many,” it is likely she owned one of the larger houses in Cenchrea, large enough to host a house church. Hosting and caring for a congregation was, most likely, one of Phoebe’s roles as patron. Phoebe’s house would also have been large enough to accommodate travelling ministers, and Paul probably stayed with her at some time. Ben Witherington III notes the pattern of first-century Christian women who hosted both congregations and travelling ministers, and he acknowledges the importance of these women for the Christian message and mission. Women converts of some means who offered occasional lodging and hospitality to fellow Christians became the equivalent of a “mother of the synagogue”25 as their home […] became regular meeting places of the converts in their areas. In a sense, the Church owed its continuing existence to these prominent women who provided both a place of meeting and the hospitality required by the community. […] [Hospitality was] not only the physical support that kept the message going, but also the medium in which the message took hold and was preserved. 26

Phoebe as patron “kept the message going,” but so did her ministry as διάκονος. Moreover, her role as “patron of many” and her status as “our sister” are not distinct from her ministry of διάκονος. There is an overlap between the three descriptions Paul gave Phoebe as we will see as we explore her ministry as “διάκονος of the church at Cenchrea.”

Col  4:15). Other women are identified in the New Testament as householders, seemingly independent of fathers or husbands, for example, Mary of Jerusalem (Acts  12:12), Lydia in Philippi (Acts  16:14–15,40), Chloe of Corinth (1 Cor  1:11), and the Chosen Lady in Asia Minor (2 John 1:1,5). 25  In a discussion about “mothers” in the Roman West, Pihlaver describes them as nonelite patrons of various voluntary associations. She notes that, despite their non-elite background, the donations of “mothers” indicates considerable wealth. She further notes that inscriptions do not mention these women as having husbands or fathers, and that the title of “mother” is unlikely to be merely honorary but indicates a position of functional leadership. (Many first-century synagogues and churches may have functioned in similar ways as voluntary associations.) In a discussion about “mothers” in the Greek East, Pihlaver writes that they were of a high socioeconomic standing, and that practically all were “‘mothers’ of the people or the city. Accordingly, their donations were directed to large groups of people, which was enabled by their wealth and family connections […]. As in the case of the Roman West, the meaning of women’s titles [including ‘mother’] in the Greek East has also been debated with the main alternatives being the honorary and functional nature of titles. Nowadays, the titles are rarely seen as purely honorific. However, the kind of activities that commanded titles continue to be discussed.” Pihlava, Authority of Women Hosts, 86–87, 90, 92. 26  Ben Witherington III, Women and the Genesis of Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 212–13. Men, such as Stephanas (1 Cor  16:15ff), for example, also used their homes as a base for their ministry to the community. “Phoebe’s mission in relation to the community at Cenchreae may be the same as that of the house of Stephanas who committed themselves to the διακονία of the saints […].” Mathew, Women in the Greetings of Romans 16.1–16, 73.

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4. Paul’s Use of Διάκονος John N. Collins has demonstrated that διακον- words are used in the Acts of the Apostles in the context of a sacred commission.27 More precisely, he states that διακον- words in Acts, particularly the abstract noun διακονία, are “code words for the kind of ministry by which the Word of God is to spread from Jerusalem.”28 Furthermore, Collins has convincingly shown that “agents” and “emissaries” often convey a truer sense of the word διάκονοι than “servants” or “ministers.”29 These findings are also relevant for Paul’s use of διακον- words.30 Paul was consistent in how he used the word διάκονος in his letters. He typically used the term for an agent with a sacred commission. Several διάκονοι in the undisputed and disputed Pauline letters are described as a διάκονος of Christ (1 Tim  4:6), or of God (for example, 2 Cor  6:4), or of a specific church (Rom  16:1), a church being a sacred community. Paul also refers to a ruler, or government official, as a διάκονος. This person is not a Christian minister; nevertheless, Paul describes him twice in Romans 13:4 as being a “διάκονος of God.” Thus, he is also an agent with a sacred commission. Paul never uses any διακον- word for ordinary servants. Apart from the διάκονος in Romans 13:4 – and apart from the διάκονοι in 2 Corinthians 11:14–15, who are agents of Satan with a diabolic commission 31 – several other διάκονοι are mentioned in Pauline letters. These include Paul himself (Rom  15:25; 1 Cor  3:5; Eph  3:7; Col  1:23, etc.), Timothy (1 Tim  4:6), Epaphras (Col  1:7), Tychicus (Eph  6:21–22; Col  4:7–9), Apollos (1 Cor  3:5), Jesus Christ (Rom  15:8), and Phoebe (Rom  16:1). In regards to Phoebe, the present participle in the phrase, οὖσαν καὶ διάκονον (“being also a deacon/minister”), suggests she had an ongoing ministry as a διάκονος. Grammatically speaking, the word διάκονος has common gender. That is, it has the same forms, or declensions, in ancient Greek, whether masculine or feminine, whether referring to a man or to a woman.32 The actual gender of the διάκονος becomes apparent when a masculine or feminine article or participle, 27  See John N. Collins, Deacons and the Church: Making Connections between Old and New (Harrisburg: Morehouse, 2002), 52–58. 28  John N. Collins, Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 156. 29  See John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990). 30  I refer to the author(s) of the undisputed Pauline letters, the Deutero-Pauline letters, and the Pastoral Epistles simply as “Paul.” 31 In 2 Cor   11:14–15, Paul mentions “agents (διάκονοι) of Satan” who masquerade as “agents (διάκονοι) of righteousness.” 32  LSJ acknowledges that διάκονος is grammatically feminine in Romans 16:1: H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, and H. S. Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon, s.v. “διάκονος” (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 91996), 398. The heading for the entry of διάκονος in BDAG is given with both a masculine and a feminine article, indicating common gender: Walter Bauer, “διάκονος, ου, ὁ, ἡ,”

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or a name (for example, Tychicus or Phoebe), is included in the text.33 In some early Christian writings, the word γυνή is placed alongside the word διάκονος (i. e. γυνὴ διάκονος) to specify a woman deacon.34 A separate word for a female deacon, διακόνισσα, was first coined in the fourth century, so it is incorrect and misleading to call Phoebe, a first-century woman, a “deaconess.” Translations which render διάκονος as “deaconess” in Romans 16:1, can give “the inaccurate impression that Paul is drawing a distinction of roles based on gender.”35

5. Women Ministers in the Gospels Even though Paul gives no indication that Phoebe’s ministry was especially feminine, some aspects of her service may be comparable to a ministry of women that is evident in the Gospels. In the Gospels, we read that many women from Galilee travelled with Jesus. Some of these women, including Mary Magdalene, Joanna the wife of Chuza, and Susanna, were ministering or providing (διηκόνουν) for Jesus and his disciples out of their own means (Luke 8:2–3). Many of these Galilean women were also at the cross where they ministered or provided (διακονοῦσαι) for Jesus (Matt 27:55–56). In chapter 16 of the third-century Didascalia Apostolorum, Mary Magdalene, another Mary, and the unnamed mother of the sons of Zebedee, “and other women besides,” are referred to as women deacons (see Matt 27:55–56). It is anachronistic, however, to call them deacons (διάκονοι) before the church was in existence. A recognised ministry or office of deacons came decades later.36 Still, it seems that these female followers of Jesus were ministering in a way that his male disciples were not.37 A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and other Early Christian ­Literature (rev. and ed. by Frederick K. William Danker; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 32000), 230–31. 33  For example, an early Christian mosaic from Patrai in Achaia mentions ἡ θεοφιλοστάτη διάκονος ᾿Αγριππιανή. This phrase, which identifies a female deacon named Agrippiane, contains three first declension words and διάκονος, a second declension word, but they are all grammatically feminine. G.H.R. Horsley mentions this mosaic in New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, Vol. 1 (North Ryde, NSW: The Ancient History Documentary Research Centre, Macquarie University, 1981), 121. In the Apostolic Constitutions, the word for διάκονος (in both singular and plural forms) occurs with the feminine article (both singular and plural) for female deacons. Aimé Georges Martimort, Deaconesses: An Historical Study (trans. Kenneth D. Whitehead; San Francisco: Ignatius, 1986), 61–62. 34  As one example, Clement of Alexandria’s Strom. 3.6.53 has the genitive plural διακονῶν γυναικῶν: “women deacons.” 35 Kristina LaCelle-Peterson, Liberating Tradition: Women’s Identity and Vocation in Christian Perspective (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008), 62. 36 The διάκονοι greeted in Paul’s letter to the Philippians (written about 60 C.E.) may be the first reasonably clear reference to an office, or recognisable position, of deacons. 37  Martha is another New Testament woman who provided (διακονεῖν) for Jesus (Luke 10:40; see John 12:2). She may have been wealthy (see John 12:3) and may have acted as Jesus’

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Like the women who supported Jesus and his mission, Phoebe provided materially for others and served those who needed assistance, including the apostle Paul. She may also have been a financial sponsor of Paul’s mission.38 Supporting others, and looking after their welfare, was one aspect of the ministry of some deacons (διάκονοι), both male and female, in the apostolic and later church.39 But Phoebe’s role as διάκονος involved still other ministries.

6. Phoebe and Paul’s Letter to the Romans Tradition and scholarship agree that Paul entrusted Phoebe with his Letter to the Romans. Robert Jewett suggests Phoebe travelled to Rome especially to make preparations for Paul’s planned mission to Spain (mentioned in Romans 15:23–24,28), by making contacts and organising financial support.40 Other scholars suggest Phoebe was in Rome for her own business interests.41 It is not clear whether Paul employed Phoebe because she happened to be going to Rome, or if she was employed especially to deliver his letter. There is plenty of evidence that some διάκονοι in the apostolic and post-apostolic periods travelled as part of their ministry, often acting as representatives and agents of their churches.42 These deacons maintained a vital network of communication between churches by carrying verbal and written messages. In both the undisputed and disputed Pauline letters, letter carriers are usually described using two or more titles or descriptions, along with a clause designed patron in much the same way as Mary Magdalene, Joanna the wife of Chuza, and Susanna. Simon Peter’s mother-in-law also served (διηκόνει) Jesus (Matt 8:14–15; Mark 1:30–31). 38  See Robert Jewett, “Paul, Phoebe, and the Spanish Mission,” The Social World of Formative Christianity and Judaism: Essays in Tribute to Howard Clark Kee (eds. Jacob Neusner et al.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988), 142–61. 39  For example, several churches sent deacons to accompany Ignatius to Rome and care for him when he was under arrest in around 110 C.E. In his letters, Ignatius speaks with warmth about these deacons, indicating his deep gratitude for the service they offered him (Ign. Eph. 2:1; Ign. Magn. 2:1, 6:1; Ign. Phld. 4:1; Ign. Smyrn. 12:2). Deacons visited and cared for Perpetua when she was in prison. In chapter three of the Martyrdom of Perpetua (circa 205) she writes, “Then Tertius and Pomponius, those blessed deacons who tried to take care of us, bribed the soldiers to allow us to go to a better part of the prison to refresh ourselves for a few hours.” “The Martyrdom of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas,” The Acts of the Christian Martyrs (trans. Herbert Musurillo; Oxford: Clarendon, 1972), 110. 40  Jewett, “Paul, Phoebe, and the Spanish Mission,” 149. 41  For example, Meeks, The First Urban Christians, 60. Stephen Llewelyn notes that individuals in the Roman world frequently relied “on the chance journey of another to carry his or her letter,” and that these letters were usually “carried by persons known to either the writer or addressee (e.g., by servants, friends or acquaintances).” Stephen Llewelyn, New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, Vol. 7 (North Ryde, NSW: Macquarie University Ancient History Documentary Research Centre, 1994), 51 and 29. 42  As one example, in his letter to the Philadelphians, Ignatius asks that they send a deacon to the church in Syria as an ambassador (Ign. Phld. 10:1–2; see Ign. Smyrn. 11:2–3).

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to commend the carriers to the recipients of his letters.43 Tychicus was a letter carrier and is referred to as both a “beloved brother” and a “trustworthy διάκονος” in Eph  6:21 (see 2 Tim  4:12; Titus 3:12). (Note the similar terminology for Tychicus and for Phoebe: “brother/sister” and “διάκονος.”) In Colossians 4:7, Tychicus is described as “a beloved brother,” “a trustworthy διάκονος,” and “a fellow servant (σύνδουλος) in the Lord.” Along with this list of credentials, the church in Colossae is given this message about him: [He] will tell you all the news about me […] I have sent him to you for this very purpose, so that you may know how we are and that he may encourage your hearts; he is coming with Onesimus, the faithful and beloved brother who is one of you. They will tell you about everything here (Col  4:7–9 NRSV).

These verses about Tychicus give an indication of both the role and the qualities of Paul’s letter carriers. The custom of letter carriers in the first-century Greco-Roman world meant that Phoebe, like Tychicus, would have passed on news and personal messages from Paul. Furthermore, she would have provided explanations and commentary about his letter. Patrick Gray explains: Paul’s coworkers who delivered his letters did not drop them in the mailbox and then go on their way but, rather, would likely have read them aloud to the recipients and been available to explain the significance of the references they contained.44

Peter Head, who has examined forty Oxyrhynchus papyri where the letter-carrier is named, observes that, on occasion, letter carriers functioned in some way or other to “represent” the sender, to expand on details within the letter, and even to expound and reinforce the primary message of the letter in oral communication. … [But Head] did not find any evidence that any particular letter-carrier was also expected to read the letter aloud to the recipient …45

Phoebe was Paul’s envoy, and while she may or may not have been the first person to read Paul’s letter aloud to the Romans, she was, most likely, the first commentator on his letter. Paul had a great trust in Phoebe as the deliverer of his letter, regarded by many as his magnum opus.46 Delivering Paul’s letter and act43  As well as Phoebe, we know that Timothy (1 Cor  4:17; 16:10–11), Titus (2 Cor  8:16–24), Epaphroditus (Phil  2:25–30), Onesimus (Phlm 1:12–13; Col  4:8–9), and Tychicus carried letters from, and sometimes to, Paul. In the Acts of Paul (written in the mid-second century) the emissaries Threptus and Eutyches are said to have taken a letter from the Corinthian elders and delivered it to Paul in Philippi, and they are called deacons (Acts Paul 1:7; 3 Cor. 3:1). 44  Patrick Gray, Opening Paul’s Letters: A Reader’s Guide to Genre and Interpretation (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012), 136. 45  Peter M. Head, “Named Letter Carriers among the Oxyrhynchus Papyri,” JSNT 31/3 (2009): 279–300, 297. 46  The author of First Clement highlights the issue of the trustworthiness of letter carriers in his description of those who delivered his letter to Corinth: “trustworthy and prudent men who from youth to old age have lived blameless lives among us, who will be trustworthy wit-

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ing as his representative may well have been one of Phoebe’s roles as “διάκονος of the church Cenchrea.” But was she regarded as an official deacon?

7. Was Phoebe an Official Deacon? While several Post-Nicene writers unequivocally regarded Phoebe as an ordain­ ed deaconess, they appear to have been projecting the customs of a later female diaconate back onto the New Testament church. We must take care not to make a similar mistake by projecting modern customs and roles of deacons onto the first-century church. The roles of deacons in various denominations today often have little in common with the roles of deacons in the apostolic church. We must also not make the mistake of thinking that διάκονος simply means “servant” in Romans 16:1, which is how the KJV, NKJV, NASB, ESV, HCSB, CEB, among others, have translated the word here. Phoebe simply cannot have been both a servant, in the usual sense of the word, as well as being a “benefactor of many,” as patrons would typically have had their own servants, rather than being servants themselves. We must not presume that Phoebe was involved in menial service in her church. Rather, as Susan Mathew observes, “when Paul uses διακονέω and διάκονος in relation to a congregation [as in the case of Phoebe], it implies some role in leading the congregation.”47 Robert Jewett, writing about Phoebe, asserts that διάκονος “is an official title of leadership.”48 Phoebe had a recognised position and ministry in Cenchrea, and Paul probably used the word διάκονος in Romans 16:1 as he did in Philippians 1:1, for ministers with a recognised leadership role. Newer editions of the NIV, NLT, and NRSV, translate διάκονος as “deacon” in Romans 16:1, which is in line with how διάκονοι is typically translated in Philippians 1:1, and there is a growing consensus among scholars that Phoebe was a deacon. Leon Morris, for example, states emphatically, “Phoebe is certainly called a deacon.”49 A deacon in the midfirst century was different to a deacon in the third century, however, when an all-male, hierarchical governmental structure had become the norm in quite a few churches, with deacons being under the supervision of a bishop (ἐπίσκοπος).50 nesses between you and me” (1 Clem.  63:3). “First Clement,” Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts and English Translations (ed. and trans. Michael W. Holmes; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 3 2007), 131. 47 Mathew, Women in the Greetings of Romans 16.1–16,75. 48 Jewett, Romans, 944. 49  Leon Morris, The Epistle to the Romans (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 529. 50  Ignatius, in the early second century, assumes the churches he writes to have a bishop (ἐπίσκοπος) as leader or supervisor, supported by presbyters and deacons. In fact, he believed that without a bishop, a council of presbyters, and at least one deacon, “no group can be called a church” (Ign. Trall. 3:1). However, some churches do not seem to have used the term ἐπίσκοπος for their leaders. Polycarp, the leader of the church at Smyrna, counted himself

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Nevertheless, whatever an official διάκονος or deacon was in the mid-first century, Phoebe was one of them.51

8. Conclusion We have seen that Phoebe’s ministry included caring for the welfare of many people, including Paul, through patronage and hospitality, and that she was, most likely, the host of a house church in Cenchrea. In Rome, where she acted as Paul’s envoy and letter carrier, Phoebe would have relayed news about the apostle and provided commentary on his letter. Like other διάκονοι, her ministry involved both leadership and some travel. Her sacred commission as διάκονος encompassed these elements plus, undoubtedly, more elements that have been long forgotten by the church and hidden by time. Phoebe, like many ministers in the mid-first century, adapted her service to meet various needs and situations as they arose. But we can safely say that Phoebe, as sister, patron, and διάκονος, was a leading figure in her church at Cenchrea, perhaps the leading figure.

among the presbyters; he does not call himself ἐπίσκοπος in his letter to the Philippians. (See the opening greeting of his letter to the Philippians.) Polycarp only refers to the church offices of presbyters, deacons, and virgins. Similarly, in the apocryphal Corinthian Correspondence, the leader of the Corinthian church, Stephanas, is simply counted among the presbyters. There was no universally accepted paradigm of church leadership and ministry terminology in the first and second centuries C.E. 51  Paul’s theology of ministry, as given in Rom  12:4–8, is that grace, gifts, and faith are necessary for ministry. Furthermore, the eight ministries listed in Rom  12:6–8, including the ministry of διακονία, do not exclude women (see 1 Cor  12:4–31). Paul’s theology of ministry did not exclude Phoebe or the other nine, or so, women mentioned in Romans 16.

Paul’s Apostleship and the Concept of Διακονία in 2 Corinthians1 Anni Hentschel

In 2 Corinthians Paul uses the Greek terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος in the range of meanings customary within contemporary Greek. Against the background of traditional discourse about envoys, Paul applies both terms to his own role as a messenger mandated to preach the gospel in the name of Christ or God. In the light of the semantics of the Greek term διακονία and its cognates, any interpretation of the διακονία of Paul as a self-abasing and self-sacrificing service for his communities is no longer possible. The 20 instances of the διακον- words in 2 Corinthians are more than half of all instances of the words in Paul. His total usage adds up to 35. In this presentation we will not discuss the six instances relating to the Collection for Jerusalem in 2 Cor  8 –9. That leaves ten instances to be considered in 2 Cor  3 –6 and four others in 2 Cor  11. All of these 14 instances in 2 Corinthians are in reference to how Paul authenticates his status as an apostle. At once we see that the διακον- words must be of special significance in regard to how Paul upholds the authority and authenticity of his status as an apostle. A common understanding has been that the διακον- words originally designated service at table as a lowly task for women and slaves as well as service in a more general sense.2 This accounts for the longstanding scholarly consensus that in 2 Corinthians, Paul does not understand his apostleship as an office associated with authority and hierarchical features but simply as a lowly service.3 In trying to explain the connection between the διακον- words in 2 Corinthians and 1  This article was first published in Diakonia, Diaconiae Diaconato: Semantica e storia nei Padri della Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9 maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Roma: Augustinianum, 2010). I am grateful to the editors who permitted its reprinting. 2  As expressed basically by Hermann W. Beyer, “διακονέω κτλ,” in TWNT 2 (1935), 81–93. For more detailed information to this subject see John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 3–45; Anni Hentschel, ­D iakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien zur Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 11–24. 3  Jürgen Roloff, Apostolat – Verkündigung – Kirche: Ursprung, Inhalt und Funktion des

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Paul’s evaluation of his apostleship, we will find any suggestion of lowly and subordinate service totally inadequate. Accordingly, the present paper will have to address the question of how we are to determine the relationship between apostleship and διακονία in 2 Corinthians. For this, it is essential that we first consider how writers used the two terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος in early Christian literature. There is a danger here. Because the early centuries saw developments in ecclesiastical offices associated with the terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος, we need to avoid reading later meanings back into the New Testament. Whereas the office of apostle becomes – in the strictest sense – the fundamental office in the church (already evident in Eph  2:20), the diaconate develops as an inferior office within the later hierarchical structure. It was later on perceived as an office of lowly service, a common reading of Acts  6:1–7 contributing here.4 In this connection we need to note that, outside of the gospels, this is the only passage where the διακον- words explicitly designate activities in reference to a meal. Neither in Acts nor in the Letters is there any further instance of διακον- in the sense of waiting at table – not even in reference to the Last Supper – or in the sense of charitable social work. We hardly need to mention that early church documents, which reflect a more developed sense of church order, need to be read with care. For example, Ignatius repeatedly urges that the bishop be seen as representing God, the presbyters as the college of apostles, but the διάκονοι as Jesus Christ himself (see, for example, Ign. Magn. 6:1f., Ign. Trall. 3:1).5 This reveals to us that offices were not yet fully developed in the manner of a hierarchy of bishop, presbyters, and deacons. The διάκονοι are likened to Jesus Christ while the ­presbyters are typified “merely” as apostles. At Ign. Magn. 6:2, presbyters and διάκονοι are part of the community leadership along with the bishop. And in Ign. Trall. 2:3, Ignatius explicitly states that the διάκονοι are not there for distributing food and drink but for dispensing “the mysteries of Jesus Christ”. Thus we must come face to face with the question of what the terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος meant in the New Testament. This will take us up to the final question of how in 2 Corinthians Paul is able to define his role as an apostle by use of the διακον- words.

kirchlichen Apostelamtes nach Paulus, Lukas und den Pastoralbriefen (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1965). 4 See, for example, the observations of K. Latvus concerning the interpretation of Acts  6:1–6 during the time of Reformation; Kari Latvus, “The Paradigm Challenged. A New Analysis of the Origin of Diakonia,” Studia Theologica–Nordic Journal of Theology 62/2 (2008): 142–57, 151f. 5 Hentschel, Diakonia, 418–28.

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1. Usage of the Terms Ἀπόστολος and Διάκονος Normally the διακον- words designate tasks of quite varied kinds, 6 and the nature of the task is to be determined from a consideration of the social and literary context. With διακονία we often discern the function of an intermediary, as when a διάκονος delivers a message or some object in the name of the person commissioning the διάκονος. There are several fields of meaning in which the terms appear more often: the carrying out of tasks of the most varied kinds, doing errands, delivering messages, performing tasks in a household, especially waiting at table. We see the same variety of uses in the New Testament. For the duration of the task, the διάκονος is accountable to the person who commissioned the task. In fact, depending on the nature of the task, a διάκονος can present her/himself to an audience with claims to absolute authority. The διάκονος retains the authority, however, only in so far as she or he performs in accordance with the original commission. The term διάκονος in such a context is different from the designation “slave” in that διάκονος gives no indication of the social status of the commissioned person. A particular characteristic of the usage is that the term διάκονος can apply equally to kings, priests, ordinary people or slaves – and independently of gender – without any implication for their social status. The Greek common noun διάκονος, in spite of its masculine form, applies also to women.7 That is to say, against the widely accepted view, that what is designated διακονία is not necessarily a lowly activity nor an activity reserved for females. Rather, the respective tasks are allocated to men and women in comparable ways. The evaluation of a good διάκονος is based on how the διάκονος distinguishes himself by carrying out responsibilities smartly and conscientiously. The word group is basically not capable of expressing a willingness to help or benevolence. Nor do the διακον- words belong to ordinary everyday speech. They belong rather to more formal usage. So occurrences of the words are often attributable to a particular author’s preference. Similarly, the Greek term ἀπόστολος has an extensive range of meanings, being a designation for – among other uses – a covering letter, a delivery note, a naval expedition, the commander of an expedition, the despatch of a fleet.8 Only rarely does the term designate an envoy or legate (for example, Herodotus I.21; V.38). In the New Testament, by contrast, the term applies exclusively to 6 Hentschel,

Diakonia, 21–23, 85–89; Collins, Diakonia, 335–37. usage doesn’t show any signs of being connected with a specific gender. See Hentschel, Diakonia, 85–89. 8  For further details regard Karl Heinrich Rengstorf, “ἀποστέλλω κτλ,” in TWNT 2 (1933), 397–448; Jörg Frey, “Apostelbegriff, Apostelamt und Apostolizität: Neutestamentliche Perspektiven zur Frage nach der ‚Apostolizität’ der Kirche,” in Theodor Schneider and Gunther Wenz, Das kirchliche Amt in apostolischer Nachfolge I: Grundlagen und Grundfragen (Freiburg: Herder, 2004), 91–188; Jürgen Roloff, “Apostel/Apostolat/Apostolizität. I. Neues Testament,” in TRE 3 (1993), 430–45. 7 Its

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people. Even so, we see a variety of applications. The New Testament does not present a uniform understanding of the ἀπόστολος. For example, in John 13:16 the word simply means a messenger. Phil  2:25 and 2 Cor  8:23 establish that ἀπόστολος can designate messengers who, under a commission of particular communities, carry out their tasks within a particular timeframe and for a particular purpose. In the case of both ἀπόστολος and διάκονος we are dealing with terms whose meaning in individual passages is determined primarily within the individual literary and social context. In addition, both terms can designate a messenger who is to deliver either an object or a message. When the terms appear in NT in connection with various representative missions, these instances are to be understood in the light of social and diplomatic conventions of the Greco-Roman world of the first century. In this connection we need to bear in mind some basic, widely accepted principles: “The first principle that can be isolated about envoys in first-century antiquity is that proper reception of the envoy necessarily entails proper reception of the one who sent him.”9 “The cultural assumption . . . is that the one who is sent should be treated according to the status of the one by whom he was sent, not the status he individually holds. . . . Thus an envoy must act in a manner worthy of the one by whom he was sent, and be treated accordingly.”10 “A second principle about envoys is that they have the significant power and authority to speak for those who sent them in accordance with their instructions […].”11 The identification of speech between envoy and sender even becomes a rhetorical topos.12 We see these principles at work here and there in the New Testament when it is a matter of the Christian mission and the preaching of the Good News under a commission from God, Christ or of the communities. In 2 Corinthians in particular we see that, because of the broad range of meaning of the terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος – along with their cognates, different aspects of representative missions are especially prominent. Today’s readers and exegetes can experience some difficulty in entering a world in which both these terms were used without clearly specified and fixed meanings and designated – among other things – a messenger, envoy or intermediary, generally in relation to duties of a temporary nature. The Second Letter to the Corinthians is a fascinating text to investigate, as much because of the semantic similarities as of the specific differences in the ways Paul uses the terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος.

9  Margaret M. Mitchell, “New Testament Envoys in the Context of Greco-Roman diplomatic and epistolary Conventions: The Example of Timothy and Titus,” JBL 111 (1992): 641– 62, 645. 10  Mitchell, “Envoys,” 647. 11  Mitchell, “Envoys,” 649. 12  Mitchell, “Envoys,” 648. Compare 2 Cor  5:20–21.

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2. Paul as Apostle At the very beginning of his career Paul was sent out, together with Barnabas, by the Antioch community as an apostle for the mission to the Gentiles (see Acts  13:1–3). Thereby he became active as an apostle of the church, an envoy commissioned for the community’s mission.13 At first Paul began using the title of apostle in a broader sense in reference to himself and his colleagues, both men and women. Later he refined the idea of apostleship in reference to his own work as a commission from the risen Lord to preach the gospel. This was probably a necessary development in connection with the controversies surrounding the legitimacy of his claims to the title.14 We have evidence of these especially in Galatians and 2 Corinthians. Here he understands the experience of his encounter with Christ as his call and commissioning for mission in the name of the risen Lord. For himself, he no longer wanted to be recognised as an apostle “commissioned by human authorities” (see Gal  1:1) but as an apostle with a commission from the risen One (Gal  1:1,15–16). The essential content of what he preached had been imparted to him not by human agencies but by the One who had commissioned him, the risen Lord himself (Gal  1:1,11–12,16–17). In this he set himself apart from any perception of his apostleship as simply an emissary of the community. At the same time, he was emphasising the equality of his claim with that of others, especially the Jerusalem apostles, who also appealed to a direct commission from the risen Christ (see also 1 Cor  15:5–8).15

3. Conflict over Paul’s Preaching in Corinth In Galatians, Paul has to address the question of the source of his commission as a means of establishing the legitimacy of his mission. In Corinth, the issue raising doubts about his apostolic authority is much more the manner in which he exercised his apostleship. It is clear that Paul had to compete in the eyes of the community with preachers who were equipped with letters of recommendation (2 Cor  3:1; 10:12) and were thus presumably apostles under a commission from 13 Ferdinand Hahn, Das Verständnis der Mission im Neuen Testament (WMANT 13; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1963), 117. Against this background, perhaps Luke used the terminus ἀπόστολος for Paul and Barnabas in Acts  14:4,14. For a further elucidation of this subject see Frey, “Apostelbegriff,” 118–20. Note the survey of different explications by Charles K. Barrett. The Acts of the Apostles I (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 671–72. 14  Frey, “Apostelbegriff,” 130. 15  Hahn points out that, even when Paul differentiates between his apostleship and that of the Jerusalem apostles, it becomes apparent that he borrows their idea of being commissioned by the Lord himself. Ferdinand Hahn, “Der Apostolat im Urchristentum,” KuD 20 (1974): 54–77, 59. For further details concerning the different concepts of apostleship compare Frey, “Apostelbegriff,” 115–38.

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another community. These apostles emphasised their Jewish Christian origins (2 Cor  11:22) and made extravagant claims about their rhetorical and pneumatic capacities (2 Cor  10:10; 11:6; 12:1,12).16 It seems there was no way Paul could deny their claim to be apostles, and he sees himself obliged to establish on grounds of sound criteria that he came to his apostolic commissioning through an authentic call and in accord with the gospel. His rivals, by contrast, in Paul’s opinion preach a false gospel (2 Cor  11:4) and cause harm to the community through behaviour not in accord with the gospel (2 Cor  11:20). Against such a background it is no accident that in 2 Corinthians Paul repeatedly invokes the use of the διακον- words for the purpose of describing his role as an apostle and of defending it before the community. Whereas the title of “apostle” points mainly at the commissioning and the authenticity of the delegate, the term διάκονος, by reason of its range of meanings, focuses on the process involved in carrying out the commission and the nature of the activity associated with that. Precisely here, in the way he carries out his commission to preach, Paul sees himself as having the edge over his rivals. In what follows we will examine occurrences of the διακον- words in the sections 2 Cor  2:14–6:13 and 2 Cor  11 for the purpose of showing how Paul uses them to describe in detail the nature of his apostleship.17 Whatever judgment one is to arrive at regarding the conflicts underlying 2 Corinthians, it is at least clear that we are dealing with a collapse of trust between the community and Paul. Unlike his opponents Paul cannot produce any letters of recommendation. Nonetheless, in 2 Cor  3:1–3 Paul manages to turn this to his own advantage. He makes the point that he has no need for such documents because the community itself is his letter of recommendation, one that everybody can read. The phrase ἐπιστολὴ Χριστοῦ διακονηθεῖσα ὑφ’ ἡμῶν supposes that Christ himself has composed the letter and that Paul and his collaborators have delivered it. It can now be read by all.18 The aorist tense of the participle indicates further that in the metaphorical invocation of the language of delivering messages, we are to see a reference back to the past founding of the community by Paul and his collaborators. By this metaphor of the community being the commendatory letter delivered by Paul, he can support his authority in two ways. On the one hand, 16  For a lively discussion of the opponents, compare the survey of Reimund Bieringer, “Die Gegner des Paulus im 2. Korintherbrief,” in Studies on 2 Corinthians (eds. Reimund Bieringer & Jan Lambrecht; BEThL 112: Leuven: Peeters, 1994), 181–221, and Jerry L. Sumney, “Servants of Satan,” “False Brothers” and Other Opponents of Paul (JSNT SS 188; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999). 17 Concerning the question of the literary integrity of 2 Corinthians, see Margaret E. Thrall, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians I (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 3–77; Paul Barnett, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 15–25; Erich Gräßer, Der zweite Brief an die Korinther (ÖTK 8/1; Gütersloh/ Würzburg: Gütersloher/Echter, 2002), 29–35. 18 Hentschel, Diakonia, 100–104.

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Paul acts and speaks in the name of Christ as the messenger of Christ the letter writer; on the other, the sheer existence of the community in Corinth establishes the effectiveness and authenticity of the message preached by Paul. As deliverer of the letter, Paul performs as an intermediary between Christ, who commissioned him, and all the people to whom he has brought the letter of commendation. As a result, not only the Corinthian community but the public in general can be convinced that Paul has reliably and successfully delivered a message according to instructions of Christ himself. After drawing on this motif of commendatory letters, Paul proceeds to other aspects of his role. To begin with, he emphasises that it is God who has equipped him to carry out the commission that he is about to discuss (2 Cor  3:5f).19 In saying as much, he declines to enter into a comparison of his own competencies with the gifts of the other missionaries in Corinth. Normally a talented διάκονος is selected for her/his suitability to fulfil a commission reliably and quickly. However, Paul is able to link his commission under God to the competencies with which God has endowed him. This link appears also in the lists of charismata (1 Cor  12:4–11; Rom  12:7), where διακονία and charisma – commission and endowment – are similarly brought together. Paul characterises himself and his collaborators as διάκονοι of the new covenant who are commissioned to deliver, not mere letters that kill, but the life-giving Spirit (2 Cor  3:6).20 Thus Paul’s task is one of mediation, here within the framework of a new covenant between God and human beings. In the next section (2 Cor  3:7–18), Paul gives further detail of this role of διάκονοι in the new covenant, arguing with the authority of the person of Moses, who, as deliverer of the Torah, is held in great repute within Judaism. According to Exod 34:32–35, Moses was the bearer of revelation who, under God’s mandate, delivered God’s offer of covenant to Israel. By means of typology Paul seeks to establish the superiority or splendour of his own διακονία – an act of mediation.21 What matters for Paul is that he and the other missionaries are seen as recipients of a revelation of God’s new offer of salvation in Jesus Christ. This is an offer to all people (2 Cor  5:17–21), and must be delivered to them. Paul has already understood that his experience of conversion and encounter with the risen Christ was his own commissioning for this mission. Through his preaching Paul makes it possible for people to come to know God’s offer of 19  “That Paul has in mind his fundamental apostolic mission, for which he has been empowered from the beginning of his life as a Christian, is suggested by the aorist tense of ἱκάνωσεν, which refers, in all probability, to the moment of his conversion and calling. He was called and empowered at that moment, as agent of a new covenant.” Thrall, Second Epistle, 230f. 20  For further discussion of the opposing pair “letter–spirit,” see Thrall, Second Epistle, 234–36. 21  Helmut Merklein, “Der (neue) Bund als Thema der paulinischen Theologie,” ThQ 176 (1996): 296.

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salvation, to embrace it, and so enter into an intimate bonding with God in faith. Through his mediatorial activity as διάκονος he is responsible for making possible the sealing of a covenant between God and people. For this reason, and on the basis of his own deepest beliefs, in 2 Cor  3:7–11 Paul draws a comparison between the old and the new covenant: while the old covenant has revealed itself to be a διακονία of death and judgment, in the new situation it is the Spirit and righteousness that is dispensed through Paul. In this function of being the mandated intermediary delivering God’s offer of salvation, Paul can be compared with Moses. The new offer of covenant or salvation, however, exceeds the saving power of the Law delivered by Moses and in fact, by reason of its glory (doxa), leaves the first covenant in the shade. The common noun διάκονος and its cognates were generally used in Greek to express notions connected with the tasks of an intermediary under a mandate from a third party. Such usage is especially in evidence in religious contexts to do with delivering messages from the gods to human beings. This Greek usage was not a specifically Christian innovation within the early church. Nonetheless it was available for the particular need to designate the roles of Moses and Paul as being of an intermediary character in delivering a message between God and human beings. Paul had no problem, accordingly, in adopting the usage – without need for further comment – to depict the roles of both himself and Moses. After presenting his perception of what the task of the διάκονοι of the new covenant entailed (3:4–18), Paul turns to the question of how he and his colleagues performed this διακονία (4:1). There was no room at all for a casual ­approach. What their task demanded was uprightness and dependability. The range of meaning of the διακον- words includes the idea that a διάκονος can go about his/her duties in the name of the mandating authority; in short, representing a person with authority. Certainly, the authority extends only to matters coming under the mandate. Paul lays claim to such authority and for this reason rejects any suggestion of self-interest in his preaching of the gospel (4:2). The light metaphor Paul employed at the end of the preceding section was designed to emphasise the mediatorial nature of his preaching.22 The “light of the gospel of the glory of Christ” (4:4) emanates directly from God (4:6) and is mediated to people through Paul under God’s mandate. For himself, Paul shows that he was a particularly effective bearer of revelation for the very reason that he delivers nothing but what he has been commissioned to deliver, leaving nothing out, adding nothing. Paul is not the one who, out of his own resources, enlightens people; it is God’s light that streams through him to beyond, becoming visible to the Corinthians once they look with spiritual eyes (4:18). 22  Martin Hengel and Anna M. Schwemer, Paulus zwischen Damaskus und Antiochien: Die unbekannten Jahre des Apostels (Tübingen: Mohr, 1998), 70f. Note the relationship to 2 Cor  2:14–16 pointed out by John N. Collins, “The Mediatorial Aspect of Paul’s Role as Diakonos,” AusBr 40 (1992): 34–44, 43–44.

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On this basis, Paul is in a position to defend himself against charges that his entry on the scene as God’s διάκονος is not marked with any sign of grandeur of a kind that one might expect of a messenger of God. Instead, he gives the appearance of weakness. This personal weakness serves to show that strength comes from God alone (4:7). Thus, the power of God’s grandeur is not masked by outward signs of power in the preacher.23 In addition, the preacher’s manner and way of life reflects what he preaches, namely, the crucified Christ (4:11). In this way, Paul witnesses to the gospel not only in what he has to say but also in his lifestyle, displaying thereby a particular credibility. In the fifth chapter of 2 Corinthians (2 Cor  5:11–21), Paul applies himself, finally, to the central element of his preaching and employs the noun διακονία in a striking way. Here Paul locates his διακονία in a relationship with God’s re­ conciling activity. Through Jesus Christ, God has reconciled himself with the world (5:18), but this saving event must now be declared before human beings so that they, for their part, might commit themselves to reconciliation with God and so enter into a bonding by faith with God. The salvation effected by God becomes accessible to human beings through the “word of reconciliation” (5:19). The task necessary to make this message known, the διακονία τῆς καταλλαγῆς (5:18), God has imposed on Paul. Accordingly we can recognise this διακονία of Paul – his commission to pass on the reconciling word of God – as a constitutive part of God’s saving action.24 The following verses show how Paul carries out his responsibility. Using the imperative in direct speech, Paul encourages the Corinthians in God’s name, “Be reconciled to God” (5:20). Of interest is the verb πρεσβεύω, used only here by Paul and lending a diplomatic tone to the statement. The word belongs to the terminology of ancient diplomacy, and in classical Greek referred generally to official embassies and imperial legates. These envoys speak and act as plenipotentiary representatives of their mandating authority and have every legal right to be heard. So emphatically does Paul identify his role in this critical passage as God’s commissioned messenger that he does not hesitate to name God as the subject of his own admonitory phrase. Christ himself speaks through him. He is God’s mouthpiece voicing God’s own call to reconciliation accurately and reliably. Against the background of these underlying ideas of diplomatic representation, we immediately recognise in Paul’s language here that of his commissioning authority. In any case, it is essential for a claim like this on the part of a messenger that the envoy’s behaviour is of a kind worthy of the mandating 23 Werner Kleine, Zwischen Furcht und Hoffnung: Eine textlinguistische Untersuchung des Briefes 2 Kor 1–9 zur wechselseitigen Bedeutsamkeit der Beziehung von Apostel und Gemeinde (BBB 141; Berlin: Philo, 2002), 235. 24  Jens Schröter, Der versöhnte Versöhner: Paulus als unentbehrlicher Mittler im Heilsvorgang zwischen Gott und Gemeinde nach 2 Kor 2,14–7,4 (TANZ 10; Tübingen: Francke, 1993), 305.

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authority and of the mandate itself. For this reason, in concluding this section Paul again emphasises the reliable and conscientious way he has carried out his commission to preach (2 Cor  6:1–10). With the help of a double negative – which in Greek particularly catches the attention – Paul insists that he never provides any opportunity for fault to be found with his διακονία (6:3). In all previous instances of this term it has been complemented by a descriptive genitive; here it is very noticeable that the noun is used absolutely. We can see this as referring back to how in 2 Cor  3:2–5:21 Paul has gone to such lengths to identify διακονία for his audience as a mandate from God to preach the message of reconciliation within the new covenant; now he wants it understood, with all those implications, as his very own διακονία. At the same time, Paul has no intention of finishing on a negative note. Rather, he commends himself now to the Corinthians without hesitation as θεοῦ διάκονος (6:4a),25 and is able to adduce as characteristic traits not just his strengths – spiritual – but also his weaknesses (6:4b–10). The paradox of his status and effectiveness as God’s διάκονος corresponds with the core of the ­message he preached, the message of the cross and resurrection of Christ; his behaviour and lifestyle underline his credibility as a διάκονος and leave open no opportunity at all for doubting that.26 Finally, in 2 Cor  10–13, Paul directly confronts the rival missionaries, and attempts to defend his role with arguments of apologetical and plainly polemical kinds. As a special mark of his missionary style Paul at once invokes his renunciation of any monetary reward for the preaching he delivers in Corinth, his διακονία (11:7f). Against the background of a claim that an apostle is worthy of his hire (for example, 1 Cor  9:14), Paul’s approach here could appear provocative and inappropriate for a messenger. In general, a messenger’s inadequate behavi­ our raises doubts as to the message he is delivering. In response to that, Paul is again compelled to draw on his convictions as he enters the conflict with the rival missionaries. It so happens that here too Paul does not draw into the debate the title of apostle or the commission received from the Risen Christ to support his authenticity. Instead, once again lifestyle and preaching activity itself become the measure of authenticity. Whereas in the earlier section of 2 Corinthians, Paul regularly used the terms διάκονος and διακονία to establish the understanding of his role as preacher and founder of a community, at this juncture both titles appear. Paul’s focus, however, appears to remain even here on διάκονος as a title (2 Cor  11:23). In 2 Cor  11:12–15, Paul comes firmly to grips with opponents whom he names false apostles, deceitful workers, and διάκονοι of Satan who promote themselves 25  Collins understands 2 Cor  6:4 as “technical expression of the claim made earlier that Paul speaks ‘as from God in the sight of God’ (2:17).” Collins, Diakonia, 198. 26  See, for example, Gräßer, Zweite Briefe, 250–51.; Hentschel, Diakonia, 122–27.

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and have only the appearance of διάκονοι who might deliver righteousness. Paul thus puts in question the legitimacy of the opponents in respect of four aspects considered central to the authority of a messenger: the mandating authority is not God but Satan; the way they carry out their commission is not marked by sincerity but by deliberate deception; thus they are unable to deliver the saving power desired by the Corinthians, righteousness; and their deeds contradict their preaching and establish their lack of credibility.27 This section shows that the terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος are obviously used in similar ways in discussing messengers. Both terms are able to designate responsibilities in regard to proclaiming the gospel. However, whereas the term ἀπόστολος focuses more on the sending and on the legitimisation of the envoy by the sender, in the case of the designation διάκονος what is foremost in the concept is the process involved in carrying out the commission.28 Paul counters his opponents’ claim to be apostles of Christ by discrediting the mandating authority with the accusation that they have been sent by Satan (11:13f). Their claim to be διάκονοι of Christ he seeks to refute by raising doubts about the type of salvation they deliver and about how they conduct themselves (11:14–15). The difference that we see here between the two terms is also the basic reason why in 2 Corinthians Paul time and again falls back on the διακον- words for the purpose of identifying and defending the kind and style of his involvement in the task of preaching. Because Paul can neither produce letters of commendation nor be counted among the first witnesses of the resurrection (1 Cor  15:5–8), Paul is obliged to ground the legitimacy as a preacher of the gospel of Christ less on his commission than on the manner in which he has carried out his commission. Even so, Paul is aware that he has an edge over the other missionaries in Corinth, as we see at 11:23. Although he sees himself on the same level as they are in the matter of being Hebrew, Israelite, or descendants of Abraham (11:22), as διάκονος of Christ, he is far superior to them.29 The burden of proof elicits another catalogue in which Paul presents his undertakings as evidencing a capacity to endure hardship, his trustworthiness, and his readiness to expose himself to risks (11:23b–29). Obviously, the rival missionaries were of the mind – in sympathy with broad Hellenistic perceptions – that weakness is no part of the make-up of a deity’s messenger; what is needed is trustworthiness, assiduity, and extreme commitment to completing the commission. Paul attempts to counter the accusations of weakness, which possibly pointed to his physical weakness or disability in speaking, by demonstrating that precisely his preparedness to endure suffering shows he would spare no effort to fulfil his διακονία conscientiously. In addition, to his way of thinking, his words and deeds are in 27 The argumentation of Paul can be understood against the background of social and diplomatic conventions about envoys in first-century antiquity. Mitchell, “Envoys,” 645–46. 28  For more detailed information to this subject see Hentschel, Diakonia, 132–38. 29  Paul is using the comparative here only in relation to the term διάκονος.

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accord with Christ, who gave him his commission and who constitutes the subject of his preaching. Precisely in this connection, Paul suggests that his own weakness is Christlike (2 Cor  12:7–10). As a result, weakness is not incompatible with his commission but rather is in accord with it. For the very reason that it is not himself, his abilities and miracles, that he presents to the public, he can be a deliverer of God’s message – better of course than his opponents. In the end, it is the task of the διάκονος to pass on – unadulterated – God’s message to those who will listen. For their part, his opponents – in Paul’s estimation – are in danger of overturning his claim so long as they place themselves in the centre of the stage with their miracles and their demands for sustenance. In such ways they restrict or distort for the community the preaching of the gospel of the crucified and risen Christ.

4. Conclusion Examination of the usage in 2 Corinthians of the terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος and their cognates shows that Paul employs the terms in the range of meanings customary within contemporary Greek. Obviously, in this he was not alone in the early Christian movement. Many other men and women could have been designating themselves similarly and thereby staking a claim to a legitimate role in preaching in the name of God or of Christ.30 In this matter, however, there were profound differences among individual attitudes in the early Christian ­period towards what proclamation is, how it is done, and what in fact should be proclaimed. As a result, conflicts arose as to who might legitimately and dependably fill this role laden with titles. Paul himself saw the outstanding feature of the preacher in the conformation of his life to Christ and in proclamation of the message of the cross. And for him this conception of a commissioned preacher of Christ was wrapped up in the Greek noun διάκονος. However, the conflict has been such as to suggest that his conviction in this matter was not obvious to others. Rather, we have something more to learn from the Greek text in regard to both ἀπόστολος and διάκονος. In the early Christian communities neither term enjoyed a uniform usage. Against the background of traditional discourse about envoys, it would be possible to show how the terms were able to be used for the Christian mission. Paul was able to apply them to his own circumstances on the grounds of his specific Christology. The weaknesses that his opponents clearly malign him for, Paul can interpret as being wholly in accord with his Christian status. For him they certainly provide no reason to surrender his authority as God’s fully accredited preacher. On the contrary, Paul himself has introduced 30 

For example, Rom  16:1f, 7; see Hentschel, Diakonia, 180–84, 433–44.

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them to support his argument for his authoritative position. Here he finds himself in total agreement with the basic perception that an envoy represents the one who issues the mandate. Further, if he is to be capable of meeting his mandate in what he says and what he does, he is obliged to conduct himself in the manner it demands. This representation, however, Paul takes quite literally: “In seeing Paul, one sees Jesus who sent him. The παρουσία of the envoy becomes indeed the παρουσία of the one who sent him.”31 Any interpretation of the διακονία of Paul as self-abasing and as self-sacrificing service for the community – an interpretation drawing on weakness as specific evidence of a humble and lowly role for Paul as the servant of Christ – is no longer possible and blocks out essential aspects of Paul’s understanding of his role. Occurrences of ἀπόστολος and διάκονος in 2 Cor  11 shows that Paul employs them as freely as the foreign missionaries. They have used the noun διάκονος in a similar manner and with an appeal to a level of implied authority that is comparable with their understanding of the term ἀπόστολος. This is in keeping with the semantic overlap of the terms in contexts of mission and delivery of message. Paul, too, is able to use both terms in close proximity in order to identify his role as a messenger mandated to preach the gospel in the name of Christ. Certainly in 2 Corinthians the emphasis is upon his role as διάκονος.32 The term “apostle” had a tightly knit connection with the idea of a mission from the Risen Christ, so that in the course of development it was applied exclusively to the first Christian missionaries (see 1 Cor  15:5–8; Eph  2:20; 1 Tim  1:1, etc.), but it was no longer in use for contemporary preachers. On the other hand, the term διάκονος was in use later, too. Other men and women, alongside the first missionaries, engaged in preaching and leadership of the community and were designated διάκονοι (see Eph  4:11–12; Col  1:24–29; 1 Tim  3:8–13; 4:6).

31 

Mitchell, “Envoys,” 651. sums up: “It was much more important for Paul to be known as a diakonos of God than as an apostle.” Collins, “Mediatorial aspect,” 44. 32  Collins

Divine Headhunting? The Function of the Qualifications of Deacons in 1 Tim  3:8–13 Lauri Thurén

The list of requirements for deacons in 1 Tim  3:8–13 is one of the most scrutinised sources when asking what deacons did in the first century.1 Unfortunately, due to this great historical interest, a basic source-critical question is seldom sufficiently discussed. The list of qualifications was never written in order to inform later generations about the deacons and their duties, and should not injudiciously be used as such. It is occasionally recognised that combining the word διάκονος in 1 Tim  3:8 with the deacons of later centuries runs the risk of anachronism.2 Opinions about the development of the ministry in the early church in general tend to affect the way 1 Tim  3 is interpreted, although this should be the other way around.3 But even the seemingly historical signals in the text itself are easily misread. Attempts to view the list of qualifications in its original context yield little reliable general information about the deacons, since such a reconstruc-

1  For some 50 relevant studies of the passage and the question of διακονία reflected in it, see William D. Mounce, Pastoral Epistles (WBC 46; Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2000), 193–94. According to him, this chapter in particular “has been interpreted as a church manual written apart from a specific historical situation.” A recent study is offered by Anni Hentschel, Gemeinde, Ämter, Dienste – Perspektiven zur neutestamentlichen Ekklesiologie (Neukirchen-­ Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2013), 157–66. 2 Thus Raymond F. Collins, 1 & 2 Timothy and Titus (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2002), 86, preferring the word “server.” Luke Timothy Johnson uses the word “helper” for the same reason (The First and Second Letters to Timothy [AB 35a; New York: Doubleday, 2001], 226). Unfortunately, these translations too have problematic connotations, since they already imply information about the duties of the διάκονοι. Therefore, despite the risks, I use the convenient and conventional translation “deacon,” as it comes close to the Greek original. The other difficult word ἐπίσκοπος will be transliterated as episkopos instead of “bishop,” since the latter has too specific historical connotations. 3  For the discussion starting from Rudoph Sohm, see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 153–55. John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 237, correctly emphasises that 1 Tim  3:8–13 must be studied in its own right.

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tions are to a great degree based on a highly problematic technique called “mirror­-reading.”4 Not until we have mapped the rhetorical and contextual functions of 1 Tim  3:8–13, and the impact of the persuasive devices utilised in it, can we hope to discern some information about the earliest deacons. This is the goal of my paper.

1. The Historical Setting Before attempting to learn anything about first-century deacons based on 1 Tim  3:8–13, its context must be assessed. Martin Dibelius and Hans Conzelmann represent the old school: as a pseudo-Pauline document, 1 Timothy is later than the historical Paul and Timothy, and thereby the situation displayed in the context is fictional. Accordingly, the aim of the document is not to give personal instruction to Timothy and his community in Ephesus, but to present guidelines for later bishops and deacons in the emerging church.5 This assessment would be convenient for studying the roots and development of early Christian diakonia. Unfortunately, it is based on a superficial reading of the text. Most modern commentators take seriously the situation referred to in the Pastoral Epistles. Although hardly of direct Pauline origin,6 these documents reflect a specific context, which should not be overlooked. This applies to 1 Tim  3:8–13, too. In the exordium of 1 Timothy, the author warns of “certain individuals” (τινες), who are “teaching false doctrine and occupying themselves with myths and endless genealogies” (1 Tim  1:3–7). In the peroratio, which as a rhetorical convention ought to be more outspoken, their false teaching is identified as ­gnosis (1 Tim  6:20). Indeed, the “myths and genealogies” (1:4) and gnosis belong together: some fundamental ideas of the emerging Gnosticism7 were based on a specific view of creation. There are numerous early Jewish and gnostic exten4 

For criticism of this method, see below. Dibelius and Hans Conzelmann, The Pastoral Epistles (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1972), 50–51. 6  For discussion of the author of the Pastoral Epistles, see for example Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, cxviii–cxxix. While the postulated developed church structure may be based on misreading, and the differences in style and vocabulary do not prove a non-Pauline origin – the material is too scarce for a reliable statistical comparison – there is a compelling piece of ­evidence. Since 2 Timothy claims that Paul is imprisoned and “chained like a criminal” (2 Tim  2:9), he cannot have written that text. Yet, stylistic reasons indicate that all these epistles are written by the same person. Therefore, even the sibling documents are written by somebody else than Paul. This, however, does not necessarily refer to a post-Pauline time – Tychicus is a good candidate for the amanuensis (for this and corresponding hypotheses, see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, cxxvii–cxxviii). 7  Support for the traditional hypothesis about a developed, second-century Gnosticism behind 1 Timothy cannot be found in the text (see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, lxx–lxxi). 5 Martin

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sions to the Old Testament’s creation myths, telling about Adam, Eve, Enoch, fallen angels, giants, and so on. 8 One of the best known of these narratives is the widespread Apocryphon Ioannis, somewhat later than the Pastoral Epistles. It retells the Biblical creation myth with a twist: the material world is created by a bad creator, who also unfortunately invented marriage and child birth. Luckily enough, Eve can teach humanity to detach itself from these demonic inventions.9 Interestingly, a similar doctrine is opposed in 1 Tim  2:8–15, immediately before instructing the episkopoi10 and the deacons in 1 Tim  3:1–13.11 The next chapter discusses again people “abandon[ing] the faith by following deceitful spirits, the teachings of demons” (1 Tim  4:1–3). Since the qualifications of the episkopoi and deacons are enveloped by sections opposing rival teachers, it is likely that even the qualifications are related to the attacks in some way. An abrupt digressio, merely prescribing some church offices, before returning to batter the antagonists, appears unnatural. If, how­ ever, the qualifications of deacons are connected to the general purpose of the epistle, they hardly share unbiased information about their duties. Some additional observations regarding the function of 1 Tim  3:8–13 weaken its quality as a source for understanding the duties of the first deacons. First, as William Mounce points out, the section does not actually tell what the deacons should do.12 Instead, the author concentrates on their personal qualities, viz. their ethos: they must not be duplicitous, drinkers, or greedy, but impeccable in all respects. This, however, does not yield much information. For example, Mounce argues that the deacons were responsible for the church’s purse, since the deacons should not be greedy for money (v. 8),13 but a similar requirement is set for the πρεσβύτεροι in 1 Pet  5:2. Moreover, the requirement not to be duplicitous does not as such indicate that the deacons were more in contact with people than the episkopoi.14 It is also worth noticing that the lists of qualifications in 1 Tim  3 are neither original nor especially Christian.15 They resemble several Hellenistic lists of 8  See Giovanni Filoramo, A History of Gnosticism (trans. Anthony Alcock; Cambridge: Blackwell, 1990). 9  Frederik Wisse, “Apocryphon of John,” in The Nag Hammadi Library in English (ed. James M. Robinson; San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988), 104–23; Stevan Davies, The Secret Book of John – Annotated & Explained (Woodstock: SkyLight, 2005). See also http://www. earlychristianwritings.com/text/apocryphonjohn.html. 10  For the translation, see footnote 2 above. 11  For the connection between these texts, see Jukka Thurén, “Eva som laeremester i Gnosis,” in Israel, Kristus, Kirken (ed. Ivar Asheim; FS Sverre Aalen: Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1979), 109–18. 12 Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 195. 13 Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 196. 14  Against Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 196. 15  See John K. Goodrich, “Overseers as Stewards and the Qualifications for Leadership in the Pastoral Epistles,” ZNW 104 (2013): 77–78.

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virtues, albeit with some modifications. Even if not directly reflecting specific sources, such as the cura morum for Roman senators,16 they might be based on a metaphorical depiction of a domestic steward.17 Yet, the question of purpose remains: If the main goal of the epistle(s) is to combat teachers with some deviant doctrinal opinions, why insert such rather unspecific and unoriginal lists of moral virtues in the middle of such an attack? To be sure, one can argue that the original function of the qualifications in 1 Timothy, whatever it is, does not prevent drawing other, historical conclusions based on them. Even if the text is not aimed at sharing information about the duties of the deacons, such knowledge can be read between the lines. However, there are several caveats against such “mirror-reading,” so typical of New Testament exegesis. The text’s rhetorical aim may bias it to the degree that its value as a historical source is highly compromised.18

2. The Antagonists as Bad Deacons Interestingly enough, the requirements for the deacons and the episkopoi resemble closely the image of the antagonists vilified in the epistle. Regarding the episkopoi, John Goodrich notices that they ought to be exactly what the anta­ gonists are not19 – this applies to the deacons as well. Thus, in order to understand the function of the virtues of the deacons in 1 Tim  3:8–13, a comparison with the denigrating claims about the antagonists in 1 Timothy and some other occasions in the New Testament or other early Christian literature is illuminating.20 16  An interesting, but unwarranted, comparison is made by Boris A. Paschke, “The cura morum of the Roman Censors as Historical Background for the Bishop and Deacon Lists of the Pastoral Epistles,” ZNW 98 (2007): 105–19. 17  Goodrich, “Overseers,” especially 81–85. 18  For criticism of mirror-reading, see, for example, George Lyons, Pauline Autobiography: Toward a New Understanding (Atlanta: Scholars, 1985); John Barclay, “Mirror-reading a Polemical Letter: Galatians as a Test Case,” JSNT 31 (1987): 76; Johannes Vorster, “The context of the letter to the Romans: a critique on the present state of research,” Neot 28 (1994): 137–38, and Lauri Thurén, “Paul Had No Antagonists,” in Lux Humana, Lux Aeterna – Essays on Biblical and Related Themes in Honour of Lars Aejmelaeus (ed. Antti Mustakallio; Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2005), 269–73; Lauri Thurén, “The Antagonists – Rhetorically Marginalized Identities in the New Testament,” in Identity Formation in the New Testament (eds. Bengt Holmberg and Mikael Winninge; Tübingen: Mohr, 2008), 79–95. Reading a description of a third party is not like listening to somebody else’s telephone call (pace Nina Nikki, Opponents and Identity in the Letter to the Philippians [Helsinki: University of Helsinki, 2015], 25), since not even the author hears the other side’s comments. 19  Goodrich, “Overseers,” 79. 20  The NT examples are partly based on André du Toit, “Vilification as a Pragmatic Device in Early Christian Epistolography,” Biblica 75 (1994): 401–10; other references are Johnson,

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Deacons

Antagonists

Other Pejorative Examples

Reverent (3:8)

Belittling demonstrative pronoun τινες (1:6,19; 5:15,24)

Rom  3:8; 1 Cor  4:18; 2 Cor  3:1; 10:2; Gal  1:7; 2:12 etc.

Reach a good level Visible sins (5:24) (3:13)

Titus 1:16

Not duplicitous21 (3:8)

Hypocritical, liars (1:9; 4:2)

Gal  2:13; 1 Clem.  15.1; 2 Cor  11:13 etc.

Not addicted to wine22 (3:8) [Timothy: Not too little wine (5:23)]

Stop eating foods created by God (4:3)

Gluttony: Rom  16:18; Phil  3:19; 2 Pet  2:13; Jude 2

Not greedy23 (3:8)

See godliness as a way to make profit, want to get rich (6:5,9)

Barn. 20.2; Titus 1:11; 2 Pet  2:3,15

Know mystery of faith (3:9)

Abandon faith, follow spirits (4:1) and Satan (1:20; 4:1; 5:15)

Gal  5:9,12; 2 Tim  2:18; 4:4; Rom  16:17–20; 2 Cor  10:13–15;

Reverent, know secret of faith

Blasphemous (1 Tim  1:20; 6:4)

1 Tim  1; Rom  3:8; 1 Cor  10:30; 2 Tim  3:2; Jas  2:7; 1 Pet  4:4 etc.

Keep clear conscience (3:9)

Abandoned good conscience (1:19; 4:2)

Titus 1:15; 2 Tim  3:8

No slander (3:11)

Titus 1:10; 1 Clem.  30.11; Morbid craving for controversy Ign. Pol. 2.2 and for disputes about words. From these come envy, dis­sen­sion, slander, base suspicions (6:4)

Proven blameless (3:10)

No sense of law (1:7)

Several examples of moral depravity

Take care of family24 (3:12)

Stop people from marrying (4:3)

Disobedient to parents, seduce women: 2 Tim  3:2,6; Titus 1:10

Husband of one wife25 (3:12)

Sexually immoral, homosexuals (1:10)

2 Pet  2:10,14,18; Jude 7–8; Rev 2:14,20–22

[Episkopoi: Not recently converted (3:6)]

Deviated, turned (1:6), and made shipwreck concerning their faith (1:19)

Infiltrated from outside: Gal  2:4; 2 Pet  2:1; Jude 4

Good reputation outward (3:13, see episkopoi in 3:7)

Visible sins (5:24)

Titus 1:11–14

Timothy, 227–34; Goodrich, “Overseers,” 88–95. The classical presentation of these lists is Siegfrid Wibbing, Die Tugend- und Lasterkataloge im Neuen Testament und ihre Traditionsgeschichte unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Qumran-Texte (BSNW 25; Berlin: Töpelmann, 1959). See the table by Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 156–58. 21  See Johnson, Timothy, 227. 22  For non-Jewish examples, see Goodrich, “Overseers,” 91–92. 23  See further Goodrich, “Overseers,” 90–91. 24  Goodrich, “Overseers,” 93–94.  25 Ibid.

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Goodrich acknowledges that “the descriptions of opponents may rely on a standard polemical schema,” but he hastens to add that certain real vices can be detected, such as “greed, asceticism, and unorthodox doctrine.” Thus, the opponents were actually lacking the virtues described.26 But how do we know? The antagonists in many New Testament epistles are depicted in a surprisingly similar way. What if the authors are simply blaming them? Would they agree, if they got a fair hearing? At least charging the opponents with greed was hardly a rare thing in antiquity. In fact, labeling the antagonists bluntly with little proof or particular charges was a standard rhetorical procedure.27 In 1973, Robert J. Karris had already noticed that most of the polemic in the Pastoral Epistles neatly reflects stereotypical labels of the time. They were not used in order to historically describe the antagonists but to denigrate them.28 According to him, this convention aimed at emphasizing the superiority of one’s own thinking, and dissociating it from that of the antagonists.29 Later on, this rhetorical device called vituperatio, and its negative impact on the ability of scholars to gather reliable information about the antagonists in the New Testament, has been studied by Luke Timothy Johnson, André du Toit, and myself.30 Most of the slander against the antagonists is created “by the book” – examples can be found in other New Testament documents and other ancient texts as well. Accordingly, their historical value is next to nothing. The aim of this device was only to vilify them, in order to dissociate the addressees from them. This, in turn, makes gathering historical data based on such labels in 1 Timothy problematic, both regarding the opponents and their counterparts, the deacons.31 Karris, du Toit, and Johnson have demonstrated that corresponding labels were widely used by both Jewish and Gentile authors. They needed no details or proofs, since nobody expected that these claims were historically true. In 1 Timothy, the aim of such labels was not so much to provide the audience objective information about Hymenaeus, Alexander (1:20), and their party – whom they knew already – but to dissociate them from these teachers by designating 26 

Goodrich, “Overseers,” 79, n.  11. Lloyd Pietersen correctly sees this as a persuasive device, but approaches it from a modern sociological perspective (“Despicable Deviants: Labelling Theory and the Polemic of the Pastorals,” Sociology of Religion 58 [1997]: 343–52). See also Lloyd Pietersen, The Polemic of the Pastorals – A Sociological Examination of the Development of Pauline Christianity (London: T&T Clark International, 2004). 28  Robert J. Karris, “Background and Significance of the Polemic of the Pastoral Epistles,” JBL 92 (1973): 549–64, especially 556. 29 Karris, “Background,” 563. 30  See Luke Timothy Johnson, “The New Testament’s Anti-Jewish Slander and Conventions of Ancient Rhetoric.” JBL 108 (1989): 419–41, regarding 1 Timothy: Johnson, Timothy, 73; du Toit, “Vilification,” 403–12; Thurén, “No Antagonists” and “Antagonists.” 31 Unfortunately, even Karris uses mirror-reading when identifying the antagonists as Jewish-Christians teaching Jewish myths (“Background,” 562–63). 27 

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them as villains. The audience hardly thought that the author was misleading them, since it was widely known. An example of modern misinterpretation of vituperatio in 1 Timothy is to argue, that since the author repeatedly discusses the relationship to money of both the antagonists and the leaders (1:7; 3:3,8; 6:5–10), this was a specific threat “in the troubled Ephesian church.”32 However, the importance of the theme only indicates that revealing the antagonists’ greedy motives was a popular and effective topos. Johnson, too, reconstructs a crisis in the leadership in Ephesus: leaders opposing Paul’s doctrines were morally questionable, and he wants to promote other leaders, who are tested to be better.33 Mirabile dictu, such a mirror-reading of the text, which closely resembles standard vituperatio, goes directly against Johnson’s own earlier study.34 More plausibly, the antagonists are labelled as immoral for rhetorical reasons – specific charges are not even presented. Thus, it is safer to suggest only in general terms that, at least according to the author, there was a crisis among the leadership in the congregation – perhaps a theological one. He then makes moral charges against the antagonists to meet this exigency. To sum up, references to the antagonists, the counter-image of the deacons in 1 Timothy, provide us little historical information about them. Instead, they offer an example of a standard rhetorical tool used to dissociate the audience from certain people. This, in turn, greatly effects the image of the deacons in the same text.

3. The Function of the Qualifications The section 1 Tim  3:8–13 discusses the deacons’ ethos more than their duties, telling only what they should be like. But even to say this can be too much, since the qualifications offer a mirror-image of the charges against the antagonists. In other words, the deacons should be the opposite of the rival teachers. Since these are morally denigrated for dissociative purposes, the corresponding highly ethical features of the deacons and the episkopoi may serve the same function. Both descriptions are rhetorical devices, used in order to dissuade the addressees from certain individuals within the congregation. As far as the purpose of the epistle can be grasped, this may be its main goal.

32  Thus Philip H. Towner, The Letters to Timothy and Titus (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 263, although he is aware of the stereotypical character of charges regarding money. 33 Johnson, Timothy, 236–37. 34  See Johnson, “Slander.”

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Thus, it is unlikely that the author wants to shape the deacons’ behavior or personality. Due to the specific rhetorical function of the qualifications, one cannot conclude that they would be especially urgent in Ephesus, or essential for the deacons’ work in general. Based on the reasoning above, we know little else than that there was a struggle for power regarding the congregation in Ephesus – at least according to the author. Alternatively, he aims at creating such a crisis by his letter.35 In any case, the ethical dimension of the tension is highly questionable. There may have been theological issues, since the author labels his antagonists as teachers (1 Tim  1:7). Their thinking seems to be connected to creation myths and asceticism, which bring to mind later forms of Gnostic Christianity. But the author has no willingness, perhaps not even the ability, to meet their theological challenge – unlike in the epistles to the Romans, Galatians, or even the Corinthians. Instead, he resorts to a low-level rhetorical tactic.36 To be sure, one must ask a critical question: If the virtues presented in 1 Tim  3 are aimed at creating or widening the gap between the audience and the antagonists, why not simply assign these virtues to all recipients? Whence the emphasis on certain “official” groups within the congregation: the episkopoi and the deacons? Since the antagonists are presented as (willing to be) leaders, they have to be met by counter-leaders.37 Hence the need of emphasizing the episkopoi and deacons. This means that not only the episkopoi but also the deacons had an authoritative and powerful position in the congregation. The deacons, whose virtues are emphasised just as much as those of the episkopoi, were not less important in the battle of power against the antagonists. Moreover, both titles and their tasks must have been already familiar to the audience – according to the author – since he does not introduce them in any way. Unfortunately, we do not share that knowledge, unless information from later centuries is applied to them.

4. Particular Issues Above I have argued that the qualifications of the deacons in 1 Tim  3:8–13 are dominated by stereotypical rhetoric and the particular exigency within the congregation. Thus, traditional “mirror-reading” leads us astray. Since the text, 35  I have suggested that this is Paul’s aim with his letter to the Galatians (Thurén, “No Antagonists”). 36  For discussion of Paul’s doctrinal and personal attacks, see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, xcvii–xcviii. 37  One could further suggest that the author’s party did not have enough leaders, since they have to be recruited and tested (1 Tim  3:1,10). Is the author organising an uprising within the congregation? Alternatively, if his party still has the power, emphasizing titles like episkopoi, deacons, and elders helps him to reject teachers without such an “official” status.

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however, is one of the first documents discussing early Christian deacons, it is important to see if it offers any reliable pieces of historical information about them. Some particular issues are often discussed. Awareness of the rhetorical device used, vituperatio, actually helps to gain information about the historical situation of 1 Timothy and its deacons, as it enables us to focus on features which deviate from the standard labeling process.38 Wine, Women, and Reputation Since too much drinking is forbidden in 1 Tim  3:8, one would expect that the antagonists are labelled as drunkards.39 However, these people are described as ascetic, since they want to abstain from certain food (1 Tim  4:3). As the opposite, the recipients should not completely abstain from wine (5:23). Another typical label is sexual immorality. This card is, in fact, used in the general list of vices in chapter 1, but when in chapter 4 the antagonists are depicted more closely, they are again too ascetic: they do not allow sexual expression at all (4:3).40 Following the pattern regarding wine – modesty instead of going to extremes – the deacons should marry, but be faithful and take care of their family (3:12). Both aspects of the antagonists differ from standard vilification. Simultaneously they fit well the image of the teaching reflected in chapters 1, 3, and 6, and the later Ioannis Apocryphon: in order to combat the bad demiurge, one should abstain from different types of the desires of the flesh. The deacons, however, know the mystery of faith, and should act otherwise. A third particularity regarding the standard list of vices is the author’s emphasis on the good reputation of the episkopoi among outsiders (3:8), which may resemble the deacons’ “good level” (3:13). This exhortation does not have a direct counterpart among the charges against the antagonists, as they are not charged for having bad press in society. Spoiling their reputation is thus the task of the author and his epistle, and he is eager to fulfill this duty. Episkopoi and Deacons The differences between the requirements of the episkopoi (1 Tim  3:1–7) and the deacons are minimal.41 Only indirectly, by comparing the qualifications, one could suggest that the deacons should for example not teach, and only the rela38 Karris rightly argues that elements differing from standard charges are historically most interesting (“Background,” 557). 39  Heavy drinking is forbidden also in Eph  5:18 and Titus 2:3. According to Paschke (“cura morum,” 105–19) the same applied to Roman senators. For other non-Jewish examples, see Goodrich, “Overseers,” 91–92. Gluttony is a more common topic in New Testament paraene­ sis. 40  Karris (“Background,” 563) also assesses this description to be historically reliable. 41  For a detailed comparison, see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 156–58.

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tionship of the episkopoi to the outsiders and their hospitality are explicitly discussed, whereas “women” are referred to only when speaking of the deacons.42 However, e silentio conclusions based on small variations in the lists are not compelling. Some of them are probably more due to stylistic reasons, as the author wants to avoid repetition. Since neither set of guidelines is restricted to certain individuals, but together they display an alternative to the antagonists’ alleged bad behavior, it is only natural that they are not identical. Moreover, as stated above, there are expressions which may refer to the deacons’ reputation among the outsiders, and their teaching as well. To be sure, the episkopoi are mentioned first, but even if the groups had equal power, either one must come after the other. Thus, the section provides little information about the hierarchy between these duties.43 We do not know if the deacons were subordinate to the episkopoi, or members of an ordained ministry.44 Assessing the diaconate as a preliminary step to the episkopos’ office would make 1 Tim  3:6 pointless, as it states that the episkopos should not be a newcomer.45 A good deacon will “reach a good level” (βαθμὸν ἑαυτοῖς καλὸν περιποιοῦνται, 1 Tim  3:13), but since the meaning of βαθμός hardly refers to a rank system, and καλός is not comparative, the expression hardly refers to a higher position in their career.46 Thus, the deacons are not promised to become episkopoi or adopt any other new title.47 The word διάκονος was used as a metaphor; it was not yet assigned to a certain task. When Paul’s mission is described as διακονία (1 Tim  1:12) or Timothy is called διάκονος Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ (1 Tim  4:6), this resembles Paul’s title δοῦλος Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ (Rom  1:1). Neither refers to a specific social status or position in the congregation. The popular assessment, according to which episkopoi in 1 Timothy had a higher position compared to the deacons, may be due to external evidence, such as the etymology of the titles – which in general should not be used to understand a word’s particular pragmatic function. Moreover, in order to understand the titles “deacon” and “episkopos” in 1 Timothy, one should not to mix them with later deacons and bishops in the Church, not to speak of the modern usage of the words in different denominations. Occurrences of the word “deacon” in 42 

For their identity, see below. Mounce rightly states: “There is no suggestion in the text that the deacon is subordinate to the overseer.” Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 195. See also Collins, Diakonia, 237–38, and Hentschel, Gemeinde, 157, 161–62. 44  Anthony T. Hanson, The Pastoral Epistles (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 78. 45  Thus correctly Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 196. 46  βαθμός, “standing” or “step” is hapax in the New Testament (see 1 Kgs 5:4 LXX). It could refer to ranks of the army, but there is no evidence of a corresponding system among the Christian communities in the first century. See Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 206, and Collins, Timothy, 92. 47  See Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 205. 43 

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other New Testament documents should not be automatically referred to, unless one postulates that all these documents reflect a rigid structure within the Church in the first century. Instead, the unclear references to episkopoi and ­elders in 1 Timothy, comparable to the double use of these terms in 1 Peter, ­indicate that this is not the case. Interestingly, 1 Tim  5:17–25 discusses the duties of a third title within the congregation, the “elder” (πρεσβύτερος), which is usually seen as identical with the episkopos (Titus 1:5,7; Acts  20:17; 1 Clem.  44).48 Their duties are unclear: at least some of the elders preach, teach, and lead the congregation (5:17).49 If references to much later developments are not counted, a possible explanation for the existence of the two rather identical titles in the New Testament might be historical. The synagogues had “elders,” and so did the congregations, based on the synagogues in Galatia and Ephesus (Acts  14:20; 20:17). In Philippi, there was no synagogue, and thus the congregation had no elders, but only episkopoi. First Peter, which is sent to different congregations in Asia Minor, refers to both (1 Pet  5:1–4), but as typical for this letter, the metaphor is not “dead” but well alive: the elder are contrasted to the younger, who should wait for their turn (1 Pet  5:5–6). Apparently, the emerging groups of Christ-believers borrowed different titles from the surrounding Jewish and non-Jewish communities.50 In any case, both the “episkopos” and the “elder” refer to certain duties within the congregation. Unfortunately, since 1 Timothy is not written in order to define them and their differences, we get an obscure image. It cannot be used in order to date 1 Timothy. The mere occurrence of these titles does not prove a late stage of the organising process, which in any movement starts from day one.51 Deaconesses or Wives? It has been suggested that γυνή in 1 Tim  3:11 refers to female deacons or helpers, who are similarly (ὡσαύτως) required to meet high ethical standards as are their male counterparts.52 Lots of good arguments have been presented in order to support the hypothesis, but they all overlook the most essential criterion, the audience’s perspective.53 48 Mounce,

Pastoral Epistles, 307–8. academic discussion about the relationship between these titles in 1 Timothy is typically based on evidence in later documents (see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 186–92). Such development does not, however, necessarily yield historical information about the situation in 1 Timothy. 50  For the usage of the titles in the New Testament epistles, see also Hentschel, Gemeinde, 159–60. She too argues that the texts yield little reliable information. 51  See Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, lxxxvii–lxxviii. 52  For example, Johnson, Timothy, 228–29; Collins, Timothy, 90–91. 53 For discussion, see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 202–5. Some of the central arguments include: 1) ὡσαύτως, “likewise,” must introduce a new category, just as in 3:8. But more likely, 49 The

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From the implied readers’ point of view, an abrupt change of meaning is implausible: In the next verse, the author speaks again of γυνή as he refers to the deacon’s family. The author could hardly imply that his audience understood the word differently in two connected sentences, changing the meaning without a warning. From the perspective of communication, the most natural explanation is that he first refers to the wives of the male deacons in v. 11, and then continues the same topic in v. 12. Female deacons are not per se excluded from the target group of 1 Tim  3:8–13. The term διάκονος could refer to women as well, since the feminine equivalent διακόνισσα was not yet in use; at least Phoebe is called “deacon” in Rom  16:1.54 In classical Greek, masculine forms often refer to both sexes.55 Linguistically, the reference to the deacon’s γυνή and his family in 1 Tim  3:11–12 could denote the female deacon’s spouse and her family as well. Unfortunately, this balanced reading is weakened by the context, where the roles of men and women are ­explicitly differentiated, and the author discourages women to teach in public (1 Tim  2:8–15).56 The deacon’s wife ought not to be a “slanderer” (διάβολος, 3:11), just as the man should not be “duplicitous” (δίλογος; 3:8). It has been argued that slandering was a specific problem of the Ephesian women.57 However, the term originates from the list used in vituperatio, and no mirror-reading should be based on it. Humble Preachers? The catchword παρρησία is applied to a good deacon in 1 Tim  3:13, where he is promised to gain “great boldness” (πολλὴν παρρησίαν) in the faith in Christ ­Jesus. This has been often interpreted as referring to the deacon’s duty to preach or proclaim the message.58 Etymologically, the word παρρησία refers to “speaking out everything,” while historically it is a political term, referring to freedom of speech. However, etymology or history seldom help to grasp any word’s acit compares the deacons and their wives. 2) If γυνή refers to a wife, why is there no reference to the wives of the episkopoi? But, as argued above, the lists should not be identical; therefore, any e silentio argument is weak. 3) If referring to wives, household duties ought to be mentioned. But no other duties are mentioned either, just the ethos. 4) Since there were deaconesses in the early church, so also in Ephesus. However, later development proves little about a historical situation. 54  See Hentschel, Gemeinde, 164. 55 See for example Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and other Early Christian Literature (rev. and ed. by Frederick K. William Danker; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 32000), s.v. ἀδελφός, referring to both brothers and sisters. 56  Hentschel’s reasoning (Gemeinde, 164), according to which this attitude only proves that the author in 3:11 refers to female deacons is difficult to follow. 57 Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 204. 58  Jerusalem Bible (Garden City: Doubleday, 1966); Kirkkoraamattu (Finnish Church Bible; Porvoo: WSOY, 1992).

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tual semantic meaning and pragmatic reference; resorting to such old linguistic methods and thereby arguing that the deacons were preachers is simply misleading.59 To be sure, there are some New Testament occurrences which refer to public boldness (see 2 Cor  3:12; Eph  6:19; Phil  1:20; Phlm 8; Acts  4:13), but seldom explicitly to speaking. Typically, the word means “confidence” or “boldness.” In 1 Tim  3:13, no preaching is mentioned – but it is not excluded either. 60 Boldness is an interesting term when connected to the deacons, who are traditionally assessed as humble. 61 However, the promise that a good deacon will gain confidence or boldness can be interpreted in both ways and thus does reveal the state of mind of the deacons in Ephesus – either a deacon was typically too humble and only needed some encouragement, or the ideal deacon was bold indeed. Were the deacons responsible for theology? The epistle contains little doctrinal discussion beside the brief notices of asceticism (1 Tim  4:4). To be sure, the antagonists have allegedly “abandoned the faith and blaspheme” (1:19), but this charge is not specified. Thus, even such alleged behavior may be due to money (6:10), not only the useless myths (1:3–6). Accordingly, there are only a few doctrinal requirements for the deacons. They must hold firmly to the secret of faith (3:9), which consists of a Christological thesis, emphasizing the combination of flesh and spirit: he was revealed in flesh, called righteous in spirit, and taken up in glory. Without specifying the sources for the antagonists’ “doctrine,” the author’s positive statements about flesh, sexuality, and food can be assumed to be aimed against some type of Platonistic or “gnostic” thinking, which were critical towards these issues.

5. Conclusion: “How Little, Really, We Learn”62 To conclude, despite its highly interesting status as one of the first documents explicitly discussing the early Christian deacons, 1 Timothy does not describe their duties. Hypothetical data should not be derived from the text aimed at other purposes; there is a great probability of over- and misinterpretation. The author only presents stereotypical ethical virtues, serving the same rhetorical purpose as the listing of corresponding vices of the antagonists: to separate the audience from these rival teachers and thereby minimalise their un59  See Collins, Timothy, 92–93. Hentschel, Gemeinde, 162–63 represents a typical over-­ interpretation of the word. 60  Towner argues that due to the reference to “the mystery of the faith” in 1 Tim  3:9, they participated in preaching “almost certainly” (Timothy, 262). The argument is hardly compelling. Hentschel, Gemeinde, 16–17, rightly criticises the division between the preaching episkopos and the serving diakonos, commonly found in 1 Timothy. 61  For example, Towner, Timothy, 261. 62 Johnson, Timothy, 234. A similar result is reached by Collins, Diakonia, 237–38.

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wanted influence on the congregation. Such standard rhetoric of dissociation yields little historical information. The deacons’ relationship to the episkopoi remains obscure as well. Based on this document only, one can hardly speak of any clear hierarchy between these groups. Not only the episkopoi, but also the deacons had a known and powerful position in the congregation, since they were likewise needed in the author’s battle against the antagonists. Beside this, not much is known. Despite the text’s interest in women, it does not allow us to determine whether or not there were female deacons in the congregation. Despite referring to παρρησία, the author does not reveal whether or not the deacons used to preach or if they were especially bold or humble. After recognizing the general exigency of the epistle, the dissociative function of the qualifications of the deacons regarding it, and the obscurity of certain particular expressions, we do not actually know what the deacons did according to 1 Tim  3:8–13. Much more important is what the deacons were. The diakonoi and the episkopoi were introduced in order to combat heresies. The official titles separated these individuals from other leaders or teachers. The deacons represented the true doctrine and the true church because they were deacons. Even in today’s discussion, it is interesting to know that regarding the first deacons, the title was plausibly even more important than their actual duties.

The Earliest Christian (Extra-Biblical) Sources

Pliny’s Tortured Ministrae Female Deacons in the Ancient Church? John Granger Cook

Pliny’s ruthless persecution of the Christians in Bithynia Pontus during Trajan’s imperium included the torture of two slaves whom he notes the Christians called ministrae. In this article, I will explore what can be known about the two women and what probably cannot be known. My primary contention is that the little which can be said about their role in the Christian community is limited to what Pliny himself might have understood by the term ministrae. The investigation contributes to the ongoing debate about female deacons in ancient Christianity. The trials of the Christians in Bithynia Pontus during the governorship of Pliny took place in Amasis or Amastris between 13 September 110 and 3 January 112.1 The literature on the persecution is enormous.2 T. D. Barnes argues that the fundamental “legal question on which” Pliny asks for clarification from Trajan is, “are those still in prison to be punished or set free?” Christians, however, are “eo ipso criminals.”3 Trajan did not question the justice of any of Pliny’s executions or tortures of Christians. Pliny’s decision to torture the two ministrae indicates his belief that they had good information about the Christians and their meetings.

1 See John Granger Cook, Roman Attitudes Toward the Christians (Tübingen: Mohr S­ iebeck, 2010), 146–47; Timothy D. Barnes, Early Christian Hagiography and Modern History (Tria Corda 5; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 9. All special inscriptional abbreviations used in this article may be found in the EDCS database (see “Abbreviations” for details). 2 See Cook, Roman Attitudes, 138–251 for one analysis. For a Roman legal historian’s review of the trials, see Detlef Liebs, “Plinius mildert die Verfolgungen,” in idem, Das Recht der Römer und die Christen: Gesammelte Aufsätze in überarbeiteter Fassung (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 32–46 with bibliography on 32. See Barnes, Hagiography, 9–12. 3 Barnes, Hagiography, 9, 11.

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1. Pliny’s Text: His Understanding of Ministrae His remarks to Trajan about the ministrae are terse. He summarises the Christians’ description of their ritual activities and practices along with the mandates forbidding associations: 7. They maintained moreover that this was the whole of their guilt or error; that they were accustomed on a certain day to come together before light to sing [or chant] a hymn to Christ as to a god with each other in turn and to bind themselves by oath – not for any wicked deed – but not to commit thefts or robberies or adulteries, or to break a promise or to deny a deposit when called upon for it. When these things were completed, it was their custom to depart and again to come together to take food, common, however, and harmless. But they had ceased to do it after my edict, because following your mandates I had forbidden associations. 8. On account of this I thought it more necessary to seek through torture what was true from two female slaves, who were said to be ministrae. I found nothing else than a corrupt and immoderate superstition. 7. Adfirmabant autem hanc fuisse summam uel culpae suae uel erroris, quod essent soliti stato die ante lucem conuenire, carmenque Christo quasi deo dicere secum inuicem seque sacramento non in scelus aliquod obstringere, sed ne furta ne latrocinia ne adulteria committerent, ne fidem fallerent, ne depositum adpellati abnegarent. Quibus peractis morem sibi discedendi fuisse rursusque coeundi ad capiendum cibum, promiscuum tamen et innoxium; quod ipsum facere desisse post edictum meum, quo secundum mandata tua hetaerias esse uetueram. 8. Quo magis necessarium credidi ex duabus ancillis, quae ministrae dicebantur, quid esset ueri, et per tormenta quaerere. Nihil aliud inueni quam superstitionem prauam et immodicam.4

A. N. Sherwin-White comments that ministrae is Pliny’s translation of a Christian term, which is likely correct in my view.5 He argues that “women as ‘deacons’ appear first in Romans xvi. 1. Pliny adds nothing of value, except their continued existence.”6 Jo-Ann Shelton suggests that the original Greek term was διακόνισσα, but it is probable that the term was διάκονος.7 The reason for this is that διακόνισσα only begins appearing in Christian texts in the fourth century and later.8 Διάκονος could in any case be feminine in grammatical gen4 Pliny,

Ep. Tra. 10.96.7–8, trans. of Cook, Roman Attitudes, 150. Comm in Rom. 16.1 (recensio gamma, CSEL 81/1, 477 Vogels) uses ministra to refer to Phoebe’s role: ministra ecclesiae apud Cencris; see Rufinus, Orig. Rom. 16.1 (ed. Caroline P. Hammond Bammel, Der Römerbriefkommentar des Origenes. Kritische Ausgabe der Übersetzung Rufins. Buch 1–3; Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1990), 40: ministram eclesiae quae est Cenchris; VL 78 (Codex Augiensis = Cambridge Trinity College B.17.1) 30r, a Vulgate MS with some readings from the Vetus Latina, has (c)ommendo vobis Phoeben sororem ministram quae est in ministerio ecclesiae quae est Cenchris. See also Sedulius, Ep. ad Macedonium (CSEL 10, 9 Huemer): Syncletices, sacrae uirginis ac ministrae (of Syncletices, a holy virgin and ministra). 6  Adrian Nicholas Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny: A Historical and Social Commen­ tary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1966), 708. 7  Jo-Ann Shelton, The Women of Pliny’s Letters (London: Routledge, 2013), 324. 8  Susanna Elm, “Virgins of God”: The Making of Asceticism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: 5 Ambrosiaster,

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der.9 Albert Harrill mentions the use of minister and ministerium in two of Pliny’s letters where the words refer to “the duties of slaves working for the Roman government.”10 Harrill examines ministri (not ministrae) who worked as assistants or servants in the cult of the Lares Augusti and concludes that Pliny’s slaves were “servants working at menial positions in the church.”11 His conclusion that Pliny thought the ancillae were the “best informants on illegal ritual practices” is eminently sensible, although I think Harrill confines his investigation of the inscriptions to a field that is too narrow. One of the few questions about the two ministrae that seems open to historical investigation is the significance which Pliny himself might have attributed to the term. It is clear that he knew they were slaves (ancillae). One option that can probably be dismissed out of hand is that Pliny understood ministra to simply be the Christian word for “servant.” In one of the Minor Declamations (probably II C.E.)12 attributed to Quintilian, the rhetor refers to a husband with this remark: “it was permitted to you to love a maidservant (ancilla), to desperately love one of the attendants (ministrae) (tibi liceret amare aliquam ancillam, deperire aliquam ministrarum).13 Ps. Quintilian (II C.E.?) constructs a query to an individual about the torture of slaves: “Did you examine the maidservants and did no accomplice to the crime [or ‘servant of the crime’] emerge?” (exquisisti ancillas, non apparuit ministra flagitii?).14 This usage plays on two of the basic meanings of the word: “a female servant or attendant, handmaid” and “one who assists (in an action).”15 Tibullus (I B.C.E.) uses the word to refer to a servant at table: “She will prepare the banquet and be the serving maid” (Cui paret atque epulas ipsa ministra gerat).16 Oxford University Press, 1994), 176 has a fine list of inscriptions mentioning διακόνισσαι from the fifth and sixth centuries C.E. 9 Aristophanes, Eccl. 1116 ἡ διάκονος, Xenophon, Oec. 8.10 τὴν διάκονον. 10 Pliny, Ep. Tra. 10.31.2, 10.32.1. J. Albert Harrill, “Servile Functionaries or Priestly Leaders? Roman Domestic Religion, Narrative Intertextuality, and Pliny’s Reference to Slave Christian Ministrae (Ep.  10,96,8),” ZNW 97 (2006): 111–30, esp.  114. 11 Shelton, The Women, 324–25 (her expression); Harrill, “Servile Functionaries,” 114 (“servile cultic functionaries”), 115–23 (ministri as cultic functionaries in the worship of the Lares Augustales), 129 (“servile functions”), 130 (conclusion). 12  I take most dates below from the OLD. “II C.E.” means, for example, “the second century of the Common Era.” 13 Quint, Decl. min. 301.21. 14  Ps. Quint., Decl. 18.12, trans. of Lewis A. Sussman, The Major Declamations Ascribed to Quintilian (Bern: Peter Lang, 1987), 224. 15  Oxford Latin Dictionary (ed. Peter G. W. Glare; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), s.v. ministra §  1 and §  2. 16 Tibullus, El. 1.5.31, trans. of Rodney G. Dennis and Michael C. J. Putnam, Complete Poems of Tibullus (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012), 53. See Cicero, Rep.  1.66: malisque usus ille ministris (and the people using evil cupbearers). Ovid, Metam. 9.89–90 also calls a nymph with her hair let down a ministra who served the autumn harvest and fruit (nymphe […] / una ministrarum).

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2. Lexicographical Research on Ministra The definitions of the word found in the Oxford Latin Dictionary (OLD) and the Thesaurus linguae latinae (ThLL) are a good starting point, although some of them need revision. The OLD’s lemma for minister in sacred usage is: “a priest’s attendant, acolyte, or sim. b (spec.) a minor functionary in an association devoted to the service of a particular deity […].”17 Its corresponding lemma for ministra is: “a woman dedicated to the service of a deity, attendant in a temple or sim.; (in Christian use) a deaconess.”18 Johannes Rubenbauer in a discussion of the approach of the ThLL, writes: First of all, indeed, the words minister, ministrator, ministro19 have been employed in sacred usage for the servants of certain minor orders in the cult of the gods (ministrae in the cult of the goddesses such as, for example, the Great Mother). Primo quidem voces ‹‹minister, minstrator, ministro›› adhibitae sunt in usu sacro de servitiis ordinum certorum minorum in cultu deorum (ministrae in cultu dearum velut Magnae Matris). 20

He continues by noting that sometimes words such as minister are opposed to the magister of collegia that are devoted to sacred cults and that such a usage corresponds to the etymology of the word – minister being derived from minus (small) and magister from magis (great), with the morpheme ter that is used in the formulation of contraries (for example, dex-ter and sinis-ter [right and left]).21 ministra, however, has a different usage not properly summarised in Rubenbauer’s article. Vinzenz Bulhart, in the ThLL, is more accurate:22 A Ordinary usage: 1 in sacred matters: properly of certain inferior orders of sacred servitude as well as certain superior orders of the priesthood A usu solemni: 1 in rebus sacris: proprie tam de certis ordinibus sacri famulatus inferioribus quam sacerdoti superioribus

The term primarily describes function rather than rank.23 Franz Bömer argues that in the Roman state cult, the “servants” (ministri or ministrae) were not servants of a divinity but of a “sacred collegium.” The ministri were primarily not a “sacral” but a “collegial” “institution” (Einrichtung).24 This claim is not, in my 17  OLD s.v. minister §  2. The lemma continues with “app. always a slave, opp. magister who was usu. a freedman” (this is untrue in the case of ministrae; see the material on Bona Dea below). 18  OLD s.v. ministra §  1b. 19  ministrator (OLD s.v.) is “one who waits on a person (esp. at table), an attendant,” and ministro can mean “act as a servant” (see OLD s.v. §  1). 20  Johannes Rubenbauer, “De historia vocis ‘ministri’ (secundum descriptionem Thesauri linguae latinae et imagines, quibus notiones varia illustrantur),” Latinitas 5 (1957): 112–15, esp.  112. 21  Rubenbauer, “De historia,” 112. 22  V. Bulhart, ministra, ThLL VIII/7.1004.51–1005.40, esp.  1004.55–56. 23  I owe this formulation to Professor Arthur Robinson. 24 Franz Bömer, Untersuchungen über die Religion der Sklaven in Griechenland und

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view, justified by the inscriptional evidence. The ministrae were certainly active in collegia, but there is not enough data to prove that they were not also a “sacral institution.” Bulhart’s approach will be borne out below, and the usage of ministra will demonstrate that it is often not easy to distinguish between individuals who exercised “menial” cult duties and those who had priestly functions.

3. The Literary Evidence The literary evidence for the usage of ministra in the cults of various deities for the most part supports Bulhart’s conclusions. The Vestal virgins were called ministrae, for example, and were priestesses.25 Festus (II C.E.) writes: Six Vestals are appointed priestesses, so that the people might have its own ministra of sacred rites in each region; because the city of Rome is divided into six regions; in the first and second rank were the Titienses, the Ramnes, and the Luceres. Sex Vestae sacerdotes constitutae sunt, ut populus pro sua quaque parte haberet ministram sacrorum; quia civitas Romana in sex est distributa partis: in primos secundosque Titienses, Ramnes, Luceres. 26

The six regions are a reference to the Roman patrician tribes.27 Propertius (I B.C.E.) refers to a Vestal virgin who was also a ministra of Cybele: “Claudia excellent priestess of the turreted goddess” (Claudia, turritae rara ministra ­deae).28 Ovid (I B.C.E.–I C.E.) describes an event after the birth of Romulus and Remus whose mother Silvia was a Vestal impregnated by Mars: “the altar of the goddess” [Vesta] certainly trembled as her ministra gave birth” (ara deae certe tremuit pariente ministra).29 Statius (I C.E.) likewise uses the term for the Vestals: “Vesta now praises her approved ministrae” (exploratas iam laudet Rom: Erster Teil: Die wichtigsten Kulte und Religionen in Rom und im lateinischen Westen (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 21981), 11, 15. Bömer does not include any Bona Dea inscriptions. 25  See, for example, Molly Lindner, Portraits of the Vestal Virgins: Priestesses of Ancient Rome (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2015) (a monograph which examines archaeological portraits of the women). 26 Festus, Epitoma (BiTeu 468 Lindsay). 27  See Robert E. A. Palmer, The Archaic Community of the Romans (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 6–7. 28 Propertius, Elegiae 4.11.49, trans. of Vincent Katz, The Complete Elegies of Sextus Propertius (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014), 143. Catullus Carmina 63.68 describes the castrated Attis as a ministra of the gods: ego nunc deum ministra et Cybeles famula ferar (I am now accounted ministra of the gods and a slave of Cybele). On Cybele’s mural crown, see Ovid, Fast. 4.219, 6.321, and Lucretius De rerum natura 2.606–609 (murali […] corona). 29 Ovid, Fast. 3.47. In Fast. 6.289–290 he similarly refers to the Vestals: quid mirum, virgo si virgine laeta ministra / admittit castas ad sua sacra manus? (What is the wonder, if a virgin rejoicing in a virgin minister admits chaste hands to her sacred rites?); see 6.437: attonitae flebant demisso crine ministra (her astonished ministers wept, hair let loose).

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­Vesta ministras).30 These uses could be translated with “priestess,” “minister,” or “ministrant,” but “servant” is inappropriate given their elite status. Venus herself is a ministra according to Propertius: “Venus as minister institutes the sacred rites of night” (noctis et instituet sacra ministra Venus) – a reference to the poet and his Cynthia’s nocturnal celebration of love.31 Servius (IV–V C.E.), in an explanation of a text from the Aeneid, writes: “It is indeed false that Iris is called the ministra of so many goddesses, even though she is sent by Jove and many [gods] (falsum est autem quod dicitur ministra esse tantum dearum, cum et a Iove plerumque mittatur).32 Servius also calls Opis, guard of the goddess Trivia (Diana), a ministra: “‘Indeed Opis, guard of Trivia, long sits high in the mountains’ – that is, a ‘ministra’” (Triviae custos iamdudum in montibus Opis / alta sedet, id est ministra).33 Vergil (I B.C.E.) calls Opis “Camilla” in another passage on which Servius comments: For Camilla is spoken of as a ministra (as noted above), for ministers and ministrae before the age of puberty are called boy and girl attendants (camillae) in sacred rites; consequently, Mercury in the Etruscan language is called Camillus, as a minister of the gods. nam “Camilla” quasi ministra dicta est, [quod superius expositum est:] ministros enim et ministras inpuberes camillos et camillas in sacris vocabant, unde et Mercurius Etrusca lingua Camillus dicitur, quasi minister deorum.34

Servius’ remarks do not strictly define the role of the ministers in sacred rites. Macrobius (IV C.E.) refers to the tradition in a discussion of the term custos. Virgil himself uses the term in this way elsewhere [Aen. 11.836]: “But long since did Opis, guard of Trivia, in the mountains […],” that is, Diana’s minister–unless perchance he used the term “guard” to mean that she restrained herself and kept apart from the rites, as he says elsewhere [Georg. 4.110–11], “And to guard against thieves and birds with his willow scythe, / the protective power of Hellespontine Priapus, keeps watch.” Here plainly he means by “guard” one who keeps birds and thieves away. ut ipse Vergilius alibi: at Triviae custos iam dudum in montibus Opis, id est ministra: nisi forte custodem dixit eam quae se prohibuerit et continuerit a sacris, ut ipse alibi: et custos furum atque avium cum falce saligna Hellespontiaci servet tutela Priapi. hic utique custodem prohibitorem avium furumque significat.35

Macrobius’ text clearly does not justify the translation “priestess” for the ministra Opis, but it also does not refer to a menial functionary. The first option he mentions assumes that Opis was a ministra of rites. 30 Statius, Silvae 1.1.36, trans. of Statius, Silvae, LCL (ed. and trans. David Roy Shackleton Bailey; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2003), 33 (who translates ministrae as “servants”). 31 Propertius, Elegiae 3.10.29. 32 Servius, In Vergil. Aen. 5.606 (with ref. to Vergil, Aen. 9.803). 33 Servius, In Vergil. Aen. 8.269 (with ref. to 11.836–837). 34 Servius, In Vergil. Aen. 11.558. 35 Macrobius, Saturnalia 3.6.15, trans. of Macrobius, Saturnalia, LCL, 3 vols. (ed. and trans. Robert A. Kaster; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2011), 2:51.

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Some literary texts illustrate various roles that young (male) ministri exercised. Suetonius (I–II C.E.) refers to two ministri whose duties included carrying incense boxes. Tiberius, “attracted by the incense bearer’s beauty” (captus facie ministri acerram praeferentis), raped him.36 The hapless minister’s role was similar to that of one whom Suetonius describes in his account of Galba’s life: And it fell out that as he was offering sacrifice in a public temple after his arrival in the province [Hispania Tarraconensis], the hair of a young attendant who was carrying an incense-box suddenly turned white all over his head […], acciditque, ut cum prouinciam ingressus sacrificaret, intra aedem publicam puero e ministris acerram tenenti capillus repente toto capite canesceret […].37

Other ministri offer sacrifice. Ovid seems to ascribe priestly duties to these individuals: “Just as the kite, swiftest of birds when it has seen entrails, wheels round in a circle while it is afraid and the priests stand crowding the sacrifice” (ut volucris visis rapidissima miluus extis, / dum timet et densi circumstant sacra ministri / flectitur in gyrum […]).38 If one were to adopt the OLD’s definition of minister in this case (“a priest’s attendant or acolyte”), then “priest” may not be the best translation, but rather something such as “minister” or “ministrant.”39 Ovid apparently does not make such a distinction, however. In another text, he uses minister for the individual that offers sacrifice who is being led captive in an envisioned triumph of Tiberius over Germany: “That one following him they say was the priest who sacrificed captives to a god who refused them” (illo, qui sequitur, dicunt mactata ministro / saepe recusanti corpora capta deo).40 “Priest” seems thoroughly justified in this text as a translation. Ovid, in the Fasti, delineates the role of the minister in the sacrifice: “remove your knives 36 Suetonius, Tib. 44.2. See one of the Acts of the Arval Brethren (CIL 6, 2060 = CFA 49): pueris ingenuis senatorum fili(i)s patrimis matrimis minis/trantibus ture et vino referentibus ad aram in pate ris (freeborn youth ministering with incense and wine, the sons of senators with living fathers and mothers, returning to the altar with libation dishes [paterae]). Other acts of the Arvals include similar expressions (for example, CFA 55, 65, 98 et al.). Naevius describes ministers who had a sacrificial role (Belli Punici, 4, frag. 33): simul atrocia proicerent exta ministratores (then at the same time the ministrants should fling raw entrails). Nonius, De compendiosa doctrina lib. 2 s.v. atrox (BiTeu 106 Lindsay) glosses atrox as crudum. See Cloanthus’s vow in Vergil, Aen. 5.237–238: […] extaque salsos / proiciam in fluctus (I will throw entrails [of a bull] into the salt waves). 37 Suetonius, Galb. 8.2, trans. of Suetonius, LCL, 2 vols. (ed. and trans. John C. Rolfe; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997), 2.193. 38 Ovid, Metam. 2.716–718, trans. of Caroline H. M. Kroon, “Discourse Modes and the use of Tenses in Ovid’s Metamorphoses,” in The Language of Literature. Linguistic Approaches to Classical Text (eds. Rutger J. Allen and Michel Buijs; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 65–92, esp.  83. 39  OLD s.v. minister §  2 , quoted above. 40 Ovid, Trist. 4.2.35–36, trans. of Ovid, Tristia. Ex Ponto (LCL; ed. and trans. Arthur Leslie Wheeler; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1988), 169. On the text, see Mary Beard, “Writing Ritual: The Triumph of Ovid,” in Rituals in Ink: A Conference on Religion and Literary Production in Ancient Rome (eds. Alessandro Barchiesi et al.; Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 2004), 115–26, esp.  118–25.

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from the oxen, cassocked priests. The ox should plow, sacrifice idle sows” (a bove succincti cultros removete ministri: bos aret; ignavam sacrificate suem).41 Vergil similarly describes a sacrifice in a description of the effects of a plague: Often in the midst of divine rites, the victim, standing by the altar […] fell in death’s throes amid the tardy ministrants. Or if, before that, the priest had slain a victim with the knife […] hostia saepe in honore deum medio stans hostia ad aram […] inter cunctantis cecidit moribunda ministros aut siquam ferro mactaverat ante sacerdos42

In this case, Vergil seems to include the sacerdos (priest) among the class of ministri. Eugene de Saint-Denis translates ministros as “sacrificers.”43 The diversity of usage of ministri and ministrae in literary texts, in my view, does not justify restricting the reference of the terms to individuals who performed activities such as “carrying boxes with incense, keys, baskets, objects for sacrifices, garlands and twigs, torches and various other ritual materials,” acting as heralds, and leading prayers.44 There are iconographic representations of people in Rome and elsewhere carrying out such actions, but the literary material and the inscriptions to be reviewed below do not indicate that ministrae, for example, only refer to individuals with such responsibilities. In the case of the Vestals the women were certainly priestesses, and they were called ministrae. One might wonder with good cause if Pliny viewed the Christians’ ministrae as “priestesses” of their cult. “Priestess,” can probably be dismissed as the most likely translation of ministra – from the perspective of Pliny at least. sacerdos is the term that would normally be appropriate for a priestess in Roman inscriptions, and it is used by Pliny.45 Being a slave did not necessarily prevent an individual from being a priestess, and an Olympias, clearly a slave, is identified as a 41 Ovid, Fast. 4.413–414, trans. of Roger D. Woodard, Indo-European Sacred Space: Vedic and Roman Cult (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2006), 120. 42 Vergil, Georg. 3.486, 48–9, trans. of Vergil (LCL, 2 vols.; ed. and trans. Henry Rushton Fairclough and George Patric Goold; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999), 1:211. 43 Virgile, Géorgiques (CUFr; ed. and trans. Eugène De Saint-Denis; Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1926), 30 (sacrificateurs). 44  Veerle Maria Gaspar, Sacerdotes piae: Priestesses and Other Female Cult Officials in the Western Roman Empire from the First Century B.C. until the Third Century A.D. (PhD Diss. University of Amsterdam, 2012), 146 with reference to Friederike Fless, Opferdiener und Kultmusiker auf stadtrömischen historischen Reliefs: Untersuchungen zur Ikonographie, Funktion und Benennung (Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, 1995), 15–17, 19, 20, 22, 26, 31. See Fless, ibid., 15–44 in general on the portrayal of individuals for whom she uses the general category ministri. There seem to be no depictions (or discussions) of ministrae in her monograph. Rubenbauer, “De historia,” 113 refers to various images in which youths carry incense and wine, sacrificial gifts, and a wine jug. He argues they illustrate the duties of ministri. 45  On this title, see Gaspar, Sacerdotes, passim. See Pliny, Ep. Tra. 2.1.8, 4.8.3, 4.8.5, 6.6.3.

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sacerdos of Cybele.46 There is enough literary evidence, however, to ascribe priestly duties to individuals who were identified as ministri and ministrae even if normally one does not translate either word as “priest” or “priestess” respectively.

4. The Inscriptional Evidence: The Cult of Bona Dea The cult of Bona Dea47 can be taken as an example of the rich inscriptional presence of ministra. Celia E. Schultz argues with regard to the three primary terms for women active in the cult: “The precise distinctions among the different categories of sacerdos, magistra, and ministra cannot be recovered.”48 H. H. J. Brouwer believes that women, who were called magistrae and ministrae in the cult of Bona Dea, comprised the majority of those who “practised” “the cult of the goddess.”49 They were apparently not identical with those called s­ acerdotes, although sacerdos in the cult of Bona Dea is limited to Rome. ­Brouwer believes that sacerdos “is the definition of priestesses attached to the temple in Rome.”50 On a tomb in Rome an Aelia Nice is called a priestess of Bona Dea (Aelia ­ agistrae and minisNice / sacerdos Bon(a)e Deae).51 The distinction between m trae does not seem to have been based on social class: “Interchangeably we meet magistrae and ministrae belonging to the freeborn class and to the group of freedwomen without the most important title being reserved for the more im-

46  CIL 6, 496 (Rome, Augustan era): Onesimus Olympias / Livia Briseis Aug(ustae) lib(erta) sac(erdotes) / M(atri) d(eum) M(agnae) I(daeae) (Onesimus, Olympias, Livia Briseis, freedwoman of the empress, priests of the Phrygian Great Mother of the gods). Emily Ann Hemelrijk, Hidden Lives, Public Personae: Women and Civic Life in the Roman West (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 47 identifies Olympias as a slave of the empress. 47  See Georg Wissowa, Religion und Kultus der Römer (HAW 5.4; München: Beck, 21912, repr. 1971), 217–18 for some important remarks and the thesis that Bona Dea was a goddess of healing (with ref. to CIL 6, 72 [Bona Dea Hygia], etc.). See CIL 6, 68 = BonaDea 44 for an individual who attributed his healing to Bona Dea (sanatus per / eam), discussed below. “BonaDea” is the conventional epigraphic abbreviation for the inscriptions included in Hendrik H. J. Brouwer, Bona Dea. The Sources and a Description of the Cult (EPRO 110; Leiden: Brill, 1989). 48 Celia E. Schultz, Women’s Religious Activity in the Roman Republic (Chapel Hill, N.C.: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 72. 49 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 281. 50 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 371. Amy Richlin, “Carrying Water in a Sieve: Class and Body in Roman Women’s Religion,” in Women and Goddess Traditions in Antiquity and Today (ed. Karen L. King; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 330–74, esp.  337, 371 classifies ministra as one type of “priestess” – which may be the correct solution. 51  CIL 6, 2237 = BonaDea 25 (III–IV C.E.?) and see the comments in Brouwer, Bona Dea, 371. Another sacerdos is Terentia to whom a sepulchre was dedicated (CIL 6, 2237 = BonaDea 26: Terentiae Amp[liatae] / sacerdoti Bon[ae Deae]). The title seems to be associated with the Aventine temple in Rome (Brouwer, ibid., 372).

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portant class.”52 There were also some women who were private slaves who served as magistrae and one who was a ministra.53 On the Appian Way one inscription, found in a tomb of Livia’s freedmen, reads: “Philematio, freedwoman of the Empress, priestess of Bona Dea, mother of Maenalus” (Philematio Aug(ustae) l(iberta) / sacerd(os) a Bona / Dea mater Maenali).54 An inscription (possibly from Aquileia) reads: “Decidia Paulina, daughter of Lu­ci­us, and Puppia Peregrina, freedwoman of Lucius, ministrae, have built a temple of Bona Dea at their expense” (Decidia L(uci) f(ilia) Paulla / et Pupia L(uci) ­l(iberta) Peregrina / ministrae / B(onae) D(eae) / aedem fecerunt / p(ecunia) s(ua)).55 The inscription indicates that there were two sanctuaries of Bona Dea in Aquileia and “a cult organization as well.”56 In Arles, an altar bears the inscription Bonae Deae /  Caiena Priscae lib(erta) Attice / ministra (To Bona Dea. The ministra Caiena Attice, freedwoman of Prisca).57 The ministrae were distinguished from the magistrae in the cult. A Quieta apparently served as a temporary magistra: “Quieta, slave of Atia Pieris, ministra of Bona Dea and acting magistra (?), has erected this and given as a present (to the goddess)” (Quieta Aties / Pieridis /  ministra Bon(a)e D  i  (a)e / proma(gistra?) pos(u)it d(onum) d(edit)).58 Brouwer notes that in the small “rectangular base of marble” on which the inscription was carved, there was a hollowed out space in which “a female figure dressed in a richly draped chiton” stood.59 A ministra erected “a big sacrificial table” to Bona Dea in Glanum: Attia Musa Dom(i)nae ministra posuit (The ministra Attia Musa has erected this in honor of the Mistress).60 Another inscription on an altar in Glanum (I–II C.E.) depicts two ears in a wreath on its front side. On the cornice of the altar is the word: Auribus (to the ears). 61 Above the wreath are the words: Loreia Pia / ministra (the ministra Loreia Pia). 62

52 Brouwer,

Bona Dea, 281. Bona Dea, 291. The slave and ministra: CIL 11, 4635 below (Quieta). A slave magistra: CIL 6, 2238 (possibly from Rome, see Brouwer, Bona Dea, 101) = BonaDea 27 ([Tyc]he) and possibly NSA 1929, 262,9 = BonaDea 52 Aquillia m(agistra?) found in Rome in a place where other inscriptions to Bona Dea mentioning magistrae were also found. See Brouwer, Bona Dea, 61 and NSA 1919, 262, 10 = BonaDea 53 a slave? and magistra s(erva?) /  […] / mag(istra), NSA 1929, 263,11 = BonaDea 54 (a magistra who was a freedwoman). 54  CIL 6, 2240 = BonaDea 36 (Augustan-Claudian), trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea., 47. 55  CIL 5, 762b = BonaDea 113b (Imperial era), trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea, 116. 56 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 312 (the other sanctuary was built by several magistrae, mentioned in CIL 5, 762a = BonaDea 113a). 57  CIL 12, 654 = BonaDea 130 (second quarter of I C.E., trans. Brouwer, 132). 58  CIL 11, 4635 = BonaDea 93 (Augustan era; Tuder-Ilici), trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea, 97. 59 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 97. 60  AE 1946, 154 = BonaDea 134 (I–II C.E.; trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea, 136). 61 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 249 notes the this refers to the ears “of the goddess” and that the dedication presumably was “intended to express the favourable disposition Bona Dea is believed to show by her worshippers”; see ibid., 396 “a benevolent goddess who answers prayers.” 62  BonaDea 133 (trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea, 135). 53 Brouwer,

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One inscription from Rome offers a clue about the function of the ministrae:63 Felix Asianus, public slave of the pontifices [priests], fulfilled his vow to Bona Dea Agrestis Felicula willingly and with good cause, (sacrificing) a white heifer on account of his eyesight having been restored. Abandoned by doctors, he recovered after ten months by taking medicines, by the aid of the Mistress. Through her, all things were restored during Cannia Fortunata’s tenure as ministra. Felix publicus / Asinianus pontific(um) / Bonae Deae Agresti Felicu(lae?) / votum solvit iunicem alba(m) / libens animo ob luminibus / restitutis derelictus a medicis post / menses decem beneficio dominaes(!) medicinis sanatus per / eam restituta omnia ministerio Canniae Fortunatae 64

DiLuzio contends that Cannia Fortunata “may have been an antistes (priestess) herself, or she may have served as an assistant (ministra) to the antistes who supervised the temple pharmacy.”65 None of the other Bona Dea inscriptions from Rome name women ministrae. Veerle M. Gaspar argues: “Unfortunately, it is not explicitly mentioned what Cannia Fortunata did, but it is likely that she assisted Felix Asianus with his sacrifice and possibly also with taking his medi­ cines […] In any case, it seems that ministrae could have been involved in the practical assistance of the visitors of a sanctuary.”66 Brouwer notes that “with this we enter into the associational worship by the collegia.”67 He also notes that a “dispensary was attached” to the temple of Bona Dea in Rome.68 Macrobius wrote in this regard: quidam Medeam putant, quod in aedem eius omne genus herbarum sit, ex quibus antistites dant plerumque medicinas […] (Some think she is Medea, because all kinds of herbs are found in her temple, from which the priestesses mostly make medicines which they distribute […]).69 The titles predominantly show that the cult of Bona Dea was a function of collegia.70 The ­titles and other evidence indicate these “cult associations” for the goddess.71 There are a number of other uses of ministra in inscriptions. 63  The inscription may date from I B.C.E. to II C.E. See Schultz, Women’s Religious Activity, 175. 64  CIL 6, 68 = BonaDea 44 (I C.E.?, Rome), trans. of Schultz, Women’s Religious Activity, 73. Brouwer, Bona Dea, 383, 222–25 (Macrobius 1.12.20–9) notes that a “dispensary was attached” to the temple of Bona Dea in Rome. 65  Meghan J. DiLuzio, A Place at the Altar: Priestesses in Republican Rome (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2016), 98. The title occurs in Macrobius (quoted below), but not in the Bona Dea inscriptions. Brouwer, Bona Dea, 371 notes, “It is not one of the official Roman sacerdotal titles. And the word is not used elsewhere in a Bona Dea connection.” 66 Gaspar, Sacerdotes, 145. 67 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 291. 68 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 383, 222–25 (Macrobius 1.12.20–9). 69 Macrobius, Saturnalia 1.12.26, trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea, 224. 70 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 372–85. 71 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 295. See CIL 6, 76 = BonaDea 24 (Imperial era) Bonae Deaea […] Invicta spira et Haedimania (“to Bona Dea […] the sodality named Invicta and Haedimania”; trans. of Brouwer, ibid., 35) and CIL 10, 4849 = BonaDea 75 (Imperial era; Venafrum) Collegium / cultorum / Bonae Deae / Caelestis (college of worshippers of Heavenly Bona Dea).

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5. Inscriptional Evidence: Other Cults and Associations A woman who had a function in the cult of an Augustan deity72 (i. e., the imperial cult) could also be termed a ministra. An inscription on the base of an altar, dated toward the end of the first century C.E. and found in Ossigi in Spain, reads: For the emperor, for the divinity of Perpetual Peace and Augustan Concord, Quintus Vibius Felicio sevir,73 and Vibia Felicula ministra of Augusta Tutela (the Augustan Tutelary deity), gave and dedicated (the altar) from their own possessions. Augusto / Paci perpetuae et Concordiae / Augustae / Q(uintus) Vibius Felicio sevir et / Vibia Felicula ministra Tutelae / Augustae / d(e) s(ua) p(ecunia) d(eder­unt) d(edicaverunt).74

Both were apparently freed persons.75 Vibia Felicula may have had priestly duties and is certainly associated with the altar. In Brigetio76 an inscription (151–230 C.E.) on an altar mentions a ministra who seems to have had a role in the banking function of a temple for the Great Mother: For Earth Mother and the ministra Priscilla, because of an entrusted and restored de­ posit, Aelius Stratonicus freely and gladly fulfilled his vow, as he should, in Brigetio. Terr(ae) matr(i) / et m(inistrae) Priscill(a)e / ob commen/datam et / restitu/tam fidem /  Ael(ius) Strato/nicus v(otum) l(ibens) l(aetus) m(erito) / Brigeti(one)77

Paul Veyne comments that “the association of the priestess (prêtresse) with the dedication is explained in the following way. To entrust money to a god, was to actually confide it to the god’s minister (desservant).”78 72  Manfred Clauss, Kaiser und Gott: Herrscherkult im römischen Reich (München: K. G. Saur, 2001), 284 calls these deities, “divine abstractions of the emperor.” 73 A sevir was one of six imperial priests responsible for the cult of the Augusti. 74  CIL 2 2/7, 3. Translation done with reference to that of Clauss, Kaiser, 284. Clauss, ibid., 285 reads d(onum) d(ederunt) “gave as a gift” (the altar). 75  See Liborio Hernández Guerra, Los libertos de la Hispania Romana: Situación jurídica, promoción social y modos de vida (Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad Salamanca, 2013), 153. María Dolores Mirón Pérez, Mujeres, religión y poder: El culto imperial en el occidente mediterráneo (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 1996), 142 argues that ministra refers to a “helper or auxiliary in the cult,” and not a priestess. 76  In ancient Pannonia. 77  CIL 3, 11009 = AE 1964, 190. 78  See Paul Veyne, “Epigraphica. 1. La bonne foi de la Terre-Mère (Pétrone, 117.3),” Latomus 23 (1964): 30–32, esp.  31 (see Diogenes Laertius, Vitae 2.51 where Xenophon confided half of his gold to a priestess of Ephesian Artemis and a similar passage in Plautus, Bacch. 306–07, 312–33 [a deposit with a priestess of Ephesian Diana]) and Henk S. Versnel, “Prayers for Justice, East and West: Recent Finds and Publications,” in Magical Practice in the Latin West: Papers from the International Conference Held at the University of Zaragoza, 30 Sept.–Oct. 2005 (RGRW 168; eds. Richard L. Gordon and Francisco Marco Simón; Leiden: Brill, 2010), 275–356, esp.  295 (Versnel also translates ministra as “priestess”). Eumolpus in Petronius (117.3) mentions the coins that the Mother Goddess will restore from “her deposit” for our present use (nam nummos in praesentem usum deum matrem pro fide sua reddituram).

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In Rome a Lollia Urbana was in charge of a temple of an unknown god: Lollia Urbana aeditua / ministra / vix(it) ann(os) XXX / Felicio f(ilio) fecit (Lollia Urbana, temple custodian, ministra who lived thirty years, made this79 for her son Felicius).80 Meghan J. Diluzio notes that she was a freedwoman.81 Ulrike Egelhaaf-Gaiser surmises that she might have exercised a predominantly cultic function in a collegium or a private house.82 There was a ministra of Juno Populona in Teanum according to an inscription dated from I B.C.E. to the end of II C.E.83 The stone may be the base of a statue for Vitellia Virgilia Felsia “set up by her mother.”84 For Vitellia Virgilia Felsia, ministra of the public rites of the tutelary deity, Juno Populona, Virgilia [?] mother, the land given by the decree of the decurions Vitelliae / Virgiliae / Felsiae / [m]inistriae sa/crorum pu[bl(icorum)] / [p]raesidis Iu[n]o/ nis Populo[n(ae)] / Virgilia FI[?]A / [m]a[te]r l(ocus) d(atus) d(ecreto) [d(ecurionum)] 85

Whatever Vitellia’s function was, it should perhaps be distinguished from that of two priestesses of Juno Populona whose names are also recorded at Teanum (a Flavia Coelia Annia Argiva, sacerdos of Juno Populona and a Nonia Prisca, sacerdos of the same goddess).86 Theodor Mommsen, however, describes Vitellia as the superior of the priesthood (Vorsteherin der Priesterschaft). 87 Her role was quite prominent, as the modifying phrase referring to public sacred rites (sacrorum publicorum) indicates. On the side of an altar dedicated to the Great Mother and Attis found in Corfinium (I–II C.E.), there is an inscription honoring a ministra of the Magna Mater: Acca Prima, daughter of Lucius, ministra of Magna Mater, restored and gilded the hair of Attis and restored the statue of Bellona. Acca L(uci) f(ilia) Prima / ministra Matris / Magnae Matrem / refecit magnam / et inauravit et Atti/ni comam inau/ravit et / Bellonam refecit88 79 

The inscription was on a columbarium. CIL 6, 2213 (Imperial era). On Lollia, and her office as aeditua, see Jörg Rüpke and Anne Glock, Fasti Sacerdotum: A Prosopography of Pagan, Jewish, and Christian Religious Officials in the City of Rome, 300 BC to AD 499 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 152, 774. 81 DiLuzio, A Place at the Altar, 116–17 (“temple custodian” is her translation). See CIL 6, 21497 and PIR1 2, 242 (Lollia Paulina) for Lollia Urbana, freedwoman of Lollia Paulina. 82  Ulrike Egelhaaf-Gaiser, Kulträume im römischen Alltag: Das Isisbuch des Apuleius und der Ort von Religion im kaiserzeitlichen Rom (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2000), 412. 83  José L. Garcia Ramón, “Religious Onomastics in Ancient Greece and Italy: Lexique, Phraseology and Indo-european Poetic Language,” in Poetic Language and Religion in Greece and Rome (ed. J. Virgilio García and Angel Ruiz; Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013), 60–107, esp.  99. 84 Hemelrijk, Hidden Lives, 63. 85  CIL 10, 4791 (a cippus). 86  Respectively: CIL 10, 4789 (a statue base), 4790 (a cippus, presumably a statue base). 87  Theodor Mommsen, Der unteritalischen Dialekte (Leipzig: Georg Wiegand, 1850), 143. 88  CIL 9, 3146 (the region of Samnium). 80 

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Presumably in the sanctuary there were statues of Magna Mater, Attis, and Bellona. Another inscription from the Samnium region (Amiternum) is found on a coffin honoring a Plaetoria Secunda: “Sacred to the spirit of the dead89 for Plaetoria Secunda, a ministra of Salus (Safety) for thirteen years who lived for thirty years” (Dis Man(ibus) / sacrum / Plaetoriae / Secundae / ministrae Salutis / ann(os) XIII vixit XXX).90 A votive inscription dedicated to Apollo found in Perusia mentions a Crotonia Chrotis who exercised the office of a ministra: “Sacred to Apollo. Critonia Chrotis, freedwoman of Cnaeus, gave this gift during her ministerium in honor of Isis Augusta” (Ob honorem / Isidis Aug(ustae) / Apollini sacrum / Critonia Cn(aei) l(iberta) Chrotis / ministe rio suo / donum dedit).91 The reference of “Apollo” is to Harpocrates, according to Sharon Heyob.92 An inscription on a funerary altar, which dates to 384 to 387 C.E., was dedicated to Vettius Agorius Praetextatus and his wife Aconia Fabia Paulina. Paulina’s epigram to her husband describes some of her offices: With you as my witness, I am introduced to all the mysteries; you, my pious consort, honor me as priestess of Dindymene (Cybele) and Attis with the rites of the taurobolium; you instruct me in the threefold secret as minister (ministra) of Hecate and you make me worthy of the rites of Greek Ceres. te teste cunctis imbuor mysteriis / tu Dindymenes Atteosque antistitem / teletis honoras taureis consors pius / Hecates ministram trina secreta edoces / Cererisque Graiae tu sacris dignam paras93

89 On the Di Manes, see Richmond Alexander Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1962), 90–95. Gaspar, Sacerdotes, 154 translates the phrase as “dedicated to the spirits of the deceased.” Lattimore, ibid., 90 notes that the phrase can refer to the “particular spirit of one dead person.” 90  CIL 9, 4460. 91  CIL 11, 1916 (Imperial era), trans. mod. of Anna Clark, “Magistri and ministri in Roman Italy; Associations with Gods,” in Priests and State in the Roman World (eds. James H. Richardson and Federico Santangelo; Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2011), 347–72, esp.  354 (Clark has: “on account of her office of Isis Augusta”). This is probably incorrect due to the identification of Apollo with Isis’ son. 92 Sharon Kelly Heyob, The Cult of Isis Among Women in the Graeco-Roman World (EPRO 51; Leiden: Brill, 1975), 76. She refers to IG 14, 719 = I.Napoli 1, 6 (I C.E.), an inscription in honor of Isis that is on a base for a statue of Apollo Horus Harpocrates (Ἴσιδι / Ἀπόλλωνα Ὧρον / Ἁρποκράτην). On the identity, see further R. Merkelbach, Isis Regina – Zeus Sarapis: Die griechisch-ägyptische Religion nach den Quellen dargestellt (Leipzig: K. G. Saur, 22001), 91 (other similar inscriptions). Ladislav Vidman only commits himself to the statement that Apollo is “perhaps Harpocrates” (Sylloge Inscriptionum Religionis Isiacae et Sarapiacae ­[ Berlin: de Gruyter, 1969], §  577, 263). 93  CIL 6, 1779, trans. of Feyo Schuddeboom, Greek Religious Terminology: Telete & Orgia. A Revised and Expanded English Edition of the Studies by Zijderveld and Van der Burg (RGRW 169; Leiden: Brill, 2009), 222.

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Feyo Schuddeboom notes that “on the front of the monument, Paulina is called initiate (sacrata) of Ceres and the Eleusinian mysteries, initiate of Hecate at Aegina, tauroboliata and hierophantria.”94 Another list of “holy women” does not comprise slaves’ names, in an inscription from Tridentum (now lost, date uncertain): Mag(istrae) / Cassia Marcella / Iu(v)entia Maxsuma / Firmidia Modesta / Numonia Secunda / min(istrae) /  Iu(v)entia Secunda / Manneia Pupa / Loreia Prima / Vettia Secunda.95 Amy Richlin comments that “what cult these women served is unspecified here; more than anything, they present a marked display of Roman naming in a part of Italy where a lot of the inscriptions are bilingual in Latin and the local Celtic language.”96 She does, however, consider the women to be an example of a “priestess group.” Livio Zervini believes that the women worshipped a feminine divinity and were part of a collegium.97

6. Conclusion Although Pliny may not have perceived the ministrae to be “priestesses” of the Christian group, there is ample evidence in the literary and inscriptional material surveyed above to believe that Pliny would have associated various cultic and priestly duties with the term ministra. The thesis that a ministra was clearly an individual with “a menial position in the church” (or one who exercised “menial cultic functions”) cannot be sustained. With regard to Bulhart’s analysis of the “sacred usage” of ministra, the distinction between “inferior orders of sacred servitude” and “superior orders of the priesthood” is heuristically useful, but most of the inscriptional evidence does not easily fit into such precise categories. This is the case because, for example, in the cult of Bona Dea it is difficult to determine whether the ministrae were in an “inferior” or “superior” order. I suspect that the distinction between the different “orders” often breaks down and that the cult of Bona Dea is an example of such a gray area. Frequently in literary and inscriptional usage, various ministrae are mentioned in conjunction with priestly duties, altars, sacrificial tables, restoration of statues, erection of temples, sacred rites (sacri), and various other activities such as banking and 94 Schuddeboom, Greek Religious Terminology, 222 (sacrata Cereri et Eleusiniis / sacrata apud [A]eginam Hecatae / tauroboliata hierophantria). 95  CIL 5, 5026. 96 Amy Richlin, Arguments with Silence: Writing the History of Roman Women (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2014), 212. 97  Livio Zerbini, “Demografia, popolamento e società del municipium di Trento in età romana,” Annali des Museo civico di Rovereto 13 (1997): 25–90, esp.  41 (with bibliography, possibly Bona Dea), 47. See Alfredo Buonopane, “Regio X. Venetia et Histria Tridentum,” Supplementa Italica n.s. 6 (Roma, 1990), 111–82, esp.  133.

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even healing.98 With regard to such evidence, it seems more profitable to formulate hypotheses about the various functions of the ministrae than to assign them to specific ranks (for example, inferior or superior orders). The rich usage of ministra indicates that in Pliny’s perspective the women could have done everything from carrying incense boxes (if such were used in the liturgies of the community) to assisting the Christian priests in their liturgical duties – or even performing priestly functions. There is of course a logical and historical gap between what Pliny would have understood ministra to mean and the actual function of the ministrae in the Christian communities of Bithynia Pontus. This is where the historian is unfortunately left with little more than speculation.

98 

CIL 3, 11009 (banking), CIL 6, 68 = BonaDea 44 (healing).

The Bishop and His Deacons Ignatius of Antioch’s View on Ministry: Two-fold or Three-fold?1 Bart J. Koet

Ignatius of Antioch is presented over and over again as the first author who gives some more insight into the place of the bishop in the early Church. He explicitly compares the bishop with God the Father, and he seems to promote the bishop as the single leader of the disciples of Jesus. Often Ignatius is also put forward as the first witness to the three-fold ministry: bishop, presbyters, and deacons. However, the two-fold leadership, consisting of an ἐπίσκοπος and διάκονοι, seems to belong to the oldest layers of ministry in the early Church.2 An important question which arises in the context of early Christian ministry deals with the relation between the two-fold ministry depicted in early Christian literature and the three-fold ministry as it appears in later literature and which eventually became the dominant model for churches in the apostolic tradition. In the past most studies about ministry in Ignatius focused on the bishop.3 In this article we take a broader focus and try to look at the relation and interaction between the bishop and the deacons. The thesis of this article is that such an investigation will give a more differentiated picture of ministry in the ­Ignatian letters and possibly also of the way ministry developed in the early Church.4 In Ignatius’ presentation of the three-fold ministry, the two-fold min-

1  I am indebted to Drs John N. Collins (Australia), Loveday Alexander (England) and Margaret Daly Denton (Ireland) for correcting my English text. 2  Irenaeus seems to be the first person who sees the Seven of the Acts of the Apostles as deacons, but this reference was made casually and speaks only of Stephen Haer. 3.12.10. 3  See, for example, Alistair C. Stewart, The Original Bishops: Office and Order in the First Christian Communities (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014), 237–95. See my review in: International Journal of Philosophy and Theology (76) 2015: 369–72. 4  Our earlier research showed that by looking more explicitly at the role and place of the deacon in the ministry of the early Church, it is possible to get a fuller picture of ministry in general; see, for example, my book: The Go-Between: Augustine on Deacons (Leiden: Brill, 2019), 7–51.

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istry model is also still in evidence, and thus the transition seems more fluid than is often sketched.5

1. Ignatius of Antioch as the First Witness to the Threefold Ministry? Ignatius of Antioch (probably around 35–50 till around 98–117 C.E.) is one of the five Apostolic Fathers. 6 According to tradition, Ignatius wrote a number of letters during his voyage to Rome.7 Eusebius mentions seven letters.8 These letters relate that Ignatius went there from Syria.9 As mentioned above, it is almost unanimously assumed that one can find the first attestation of this three-fold order in the Ignatian literature. In the past, as Éric Junod rightly observes, this was exactly the reason for theological and historical disputes about the authenticity of these letters.10 An example of such a questioning of these letters is Josep Rius-Camps, a Catalan Catholic priest, who argues that the passages that advocate a church 5  See also the comments on the three-fold order in Ignatius made by R. Alastair Campbell, The Elders (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 217. 6  The Apostolic Fathers is a collection of second-century writings. Later scholars considered the authors of these works relatively close to the apostles in time. See Clayton N. Jefford, The Apostolic Fathers and the New Testament (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2006). 7  See Ign. Rom. 5.1, where Ignatius refers to his travelling from Syria to Rome; see also Ign. Pol. 8.1. 8  Hist. Eccl. 3.36.12. 9  There is ample discussion about the authenticity of the letters because there are three different sets of the letters. The shortest one consists of only three of the seven letters mentioned by Eusebius. The longer recension contains expanded versions of the seven letters of the middle recensions and six additional letters. For a discussion about the various recensions, see, for example, William R. Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch: A Commentary on the Letters of Ignatius of Antioch (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985), 1–7. See Allen Brent, Ignatius of Antioch: A Martyr Bishop and the Origin of Episcopacy (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 1–13. Following the work of Theodor Zahn (Ignatius von Antiochien [Gotha: Perthes, 1873]) and Joseph B. Lightfoot (The Apostolic Fathers, Part II, I, II/1, II,2 [London: Macmillan, 1885]) most scholars consider the seven letters of the middle recension as the most authentic, and here we will follow this judgment. 10  Éric Junod, “Les diacres d’Ignace,” in Histoire et herméneutique: Mélanges offerts à G. Hammann (ed. Martin Rose; Genève: Labor et fides, 2002), 198. See Schoedel, Ignatius, 22: “Ignatius’ high view of the authority of the bishop is probably still the single most important reason for doubting the authenticity of the middle recension.” For the most relevant texts about early Christian ministry, see Francis A. Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops: The Development of the Episcopacy in the Early Church (New York: Newman, 2001); for Ignatius, see 104–23. See Charles Munier, “Les ministères de direction d’après les Lettres d’Ignace d’Antioche,” in Studia in honorem eminentissimi cardinalis Alphonsi M. Stickler (ed. Rosalius Iosephus Castillius Lara; Studia et textus historiae iuris canonici, 7; Roma, 1992). Although the title of Michael J. Wilkins’ article (“The Interplay of Ministry, Martyrdom, and Discipleship in Ignatius of Antioch,” in Worship, Theology and Ministry in the Early Church [eds. Michael J. Wilkins and Terence Paige; FS Ralph P. Martin: Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992]) promises to deal with ministry, it mainly discusses discipleship in the Ignatian letters.

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with a church order centered on a single bishop with a presbyterate and deacons are the result of a later interpolator.11 He argues that the “real” Ignatius sees the ἐπίσκοπος as a founder of new communities and educator and supervisor of these, while the interpolator, carried away by the triad of his time, bishop-presbyters-deacons, understands the bishop as presiding over the local church and sees him as the centre of all activities, to whom priests, deacons, and the laity have to be submitted.12 His thesis is that the interpolator systematically introduces the three-fold ministry and thus distorts the more archaic (and more egalitarian) Ignatian ecclesiology. This interpolator changes the more horizontal theology of the real Ignatius to a more vertical one: the bishop becomes God’s sole representative.13 In my opinion Rius-Camps’ conclusions are too convenient to be true. Instead of the common picture that Ignatius is the first witness to the three-fold ministry, Rius-Camps presents him as the champion of a time when ecclesiastical titles were less appreciated than fidelity to the Gospel sealed with martyrdom.14 However, before plunging into speculations about interpolations because of Ignatius’ assumed “high view of authority,” it would be wise to look at the question whether or not Ignatius really varies so much from other sources of his time.15

2. Two-fold Ministry before Ignatius of Antioch In the oldest Apostolic literature there is much thinking about the management and leadership of the earliest forms of an ecclesia, but it is difficult to discern the precise roles of the men and women who are involved in leading the communities. In Paul’s epistles, the oldest apostolic writings, apostles have tasks of leader­ship, but this form of leadership is still diffuse. While as sender Paul presents himself in the prescript of his epistles nearly always as ἀπόστολος (see Rom  11; 1 Cor  1:1; 2 Cor  1:1 etc.), in 1 Cor  3 –4 he depicts himself and Apollos 11  The Four Authentic Letters of Ignatius the Martyr (Rome: Pontificium Institutum Orientalium Studiorum, 1980). See Robert Joly, Le dossier d’ Ignace d’ Antioch (Université libre de Bruxelles, Faculté de Philosophie et Lettres 69: Bruxelles, 1979). See the discussion about them in Brent, Ignatius, 100–109. 12 Rius-Camps, Four Authentic Letters, 221–26. 13 Rius-Camps, Four Authentic Letters, 298–99. He depicts the attitude of the interpolator as “vertical obsession” (163, see also 259 and 337). 14 Rius-Camps, Four Authentic Letters, 131. In his critical review of the book of Rius-­ Camps, Pieter Smulders (“De echte Ignatius?” Bijdragen 42 [1981], 300–308) refers to the fact that Rius-­Camps’ supposition that there was such a horizontal theology in the letters of Ignatius leads him to argue that all more “vertical” elements are non-Ignatian. 15  For the possibility of engaging in a circular argument about the relationship between statements about church order and the episcopate and arguments about dating Ignatius, see Stewart, Original Bishops, 239.

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for example as διάκονος16 (3:5), as οἰκονόμος (4:1),17 as συνεργός θεοῦ (3:9), and as ἀπόστολος (4:9).18 The fact that Paul uses metaphorical language when describing leading roles (for example the agricultural and architectural in 1 Cor  3:4–17) does not make it easier to determine the exact roles and titles of the ministers in an ecclesia to which Paul writes. In the somewhat later sources like the synoptics and especially in the Acts of the Apostles, the apostleship seems to be restricted to the twelve who were witnesses of Jesus’ mission.19 In Acts other functions occur as well, such as teachers and prophets in Antioch (13:1) and πρεσβύτεροι in Paul’s farewell address (Acts  20:17–38; see also πρεσβύτεροι as a general reference to leadership in Acts  14:23; see also 15:2,4,6,22,23, where the πρεσβύτεροι seem to assist the apostles).20 In this address one of the most important instances of ἐπίσκοπος of the New Testament occurs. Paul asks the πρεσβύτεροι of the ecclesia to come and visit him (20:17). Paul delivers a speech. In that speech he refers to the leaders as ἐπίσκοποι (20:28). In exegetical literature there is ample discussion about the relationship between the terms ἐπίσκοπος and πρεσβύτερος. Quite often it is assumed that they are synonymous.21 While in Acts  20 it remains unclear what the relationship might be between ἐπίσκοπος and πρεσβύτερος and thus what kind of leadership is involved, in Acts  6 one element of leadership that will become important in the community of Jesus’ disciples is already discernible. In that passage leadership is two-fold, 16 For διάκονος in Paul, see Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien der Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 90–184. 17  For Paul as οἰκονόμος, see John Goodrich, Paul as an Administrator of God in 1 Corinthians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 18  The fact that Paul really is a cooperative person can be derived from the fact that he is one of the few writers in classical times who often mentions another sender in the prescript, see, for example, 1 Cor  1:1. 19  See, for example, Acts  1:15–26, especially 1:20; note that in 1:20 their task is qualified as ἐπισκοπή, by an explicit quotation from Ps  109[108LXX]:8, while in 1:17 the apostleship is typified as a διακονία. 20  Could it be that the combination of “prophets and teachers” also reflects a kind of twofold ministry? That could be indicated by the fact that in Did. 15:1–2 they are paralleled with ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι: “so, appoint (here χειροτονέω!) for yourselves ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι, worthy of the Lord, men who are gentle [=not arrogant; see the designation of Moses in Num 12:3 LXX], not money-lending, truthful, and tested; because they fulfil for you the office of the prophets and the teachers. Do not despise them therefore: for they are your men of honour together with the prophets and teachers” (my translation). 21  Stewart (Original Bishops, 11–54), argues against these terms being synonymous and thinks that πρεσβύτεροι is a kind of overlapping term. There is much in this study relevant for the history of offices and order. However, although he argues several times (for example, 178) that the original ministers of the early Church were never presbyters but rather episkopoi (bishops) and diakonoi (deacons), he is more focused on solving the problem of the rise of the monepiscopacy. Thus, he does not assess the relationship between bishop and deacons in his discussion about Ignatius (237–95) and he neglects the two-fold structure of leadership as a possible key to understanding leadership in the early Church.

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and it is exactly that two-fold order that we find also elsewhere in early Christian literature.22 A clear-cut example from the NT is 1 Tim  3:1–13. In this passage two ministries are presented: the ἐπίσκοπος is the one who is the leader, and the διάκονοι, who to a certain extent resemble their superior, are his assistants. Also in the writings of the Apostolic Fathers like 1 Clem.  42.1–5, Did. 15.1–2, and Herm. Vis. III, 5.1, we mainly recognise a two-fold ministry: the ἐπίσκοπος and διάκονοι.23 1 Clem.  42.5 states: For the Scripture says somewhere: ‘I will raise their ἐπίσκοποι in righteousness and their διάκονοι in faith/trust.’24

As I have argued elsewhere, this allusion to Isa 60:17 (LXX) was meant to show that ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι are not new phenomena.25 The word ἐπίσκοποι may be the first reason for this allusion because that word is the link between the source text and the “receiving” one. The fact that in Isaiah a two-fold leadership is mentioned could be the second reason. In 1 Clement we find a difference of level between the leaders within the two-fold model. Now the ἐπίσκοποι are mentioned in the first place, while their assistants get the second place. It is in22 Possibly motivated by a certain reluctance to recognise what is often called “Frühkatholizismus,” some scholarship has argued that the Seven in Acts  6 are not deacons. A classic argument is that the word “deacon” is not yet used to qualify the Seven and that thus there is no connection between them and the deacons of the early church. See, for example, Josef Gewieß, “Die Neutestamentlichen Grundlagen der kirchlichen Hierarchie,” in Historisches Jahrbuch 72 (1953): 1–24; reprinted in a collection of articles about ministry in the New Testament: Das Kirchliche Amt im Neuen Testament (ed. Karl Kertelge; Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1977), 144–72, here 153. Related to this argument is the idea that here we cannot find a real ministry. See, for example, Jacob Jervell, Die Apostelgeschichte (Göttingen: Vanden­hoeck & Ruprecht, 199817). However, although it is true that the Seven are not designated as deacons, one has to note that the ministry of the apostles and that of the Seven as their delegates is designated as διακονία and that thus quite clearly a form of leadership is at stake. ­Edwin Hatch (The Organization of the Early Christian Church [London: Rivingtons, 1881], 49–51), already concluded that this indicates that the Seven do have a ministry. Likewise, the ritual involved here suggests that the Seven were installed more or less officially. Although the Seven do not get the title of deacon, they do have a relation to the διακον- root, they do have an official task and they do get an installation, and thus it would not be impossible to typify them as proto-deacons. 23  For this see my “Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Understanding the Two-fold Ministry of ἐπισκοποι and διἀκονοι according to 1 Clement (1 Clem.  42:5),” in The Scriptures of Israel in Jewish and Christian Tradition (eds. Bart J. Koet et al.; FS Maarten J. J. Menken: Leiden: Brill, 2013), 345–62. The point that Clement suggests that there is a continuity between the offices of the Old Testament and those of Christianity is neglected by Stewart, Original Bishops. He also dismisses too quickly other Jewish or Old Testament backgrounds to the ministry of the early Church. 24  Γάρ που λέγει ἡ γραφή·Καταστήσω τοὺς ἐπισκόπους αὐτῶν ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ καὶ τοὺς διακόνους αὐτῶν ἐν πίστει. 25  For this see my “Isaiah 60:17,” 359–61.

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teresting to note that the overseers seem to be qualified to do righteousness, while the διάκονοι are related to πίστις.26 The fact that we can find in Clement the two-fold ministry episkopoi–diakonoi concurs with the (scarce) use of this combination in comparable early Church literature. Huub van de Sandt and David Flusser, for example, argue that the mention of the offices of bishops and deacons in Did. 15:1–2 belongs to the same literary type as those which are – to a greater extent – found in 1 Tim  3:1–13.27 The mention of bishops (plural!) and deacons in the Didache according to them also reflects a rather archaic situation which might be analogous to the occurrence of the dual leadership in Phil  1:1.28

3. The Special Relation between Ἐπίσκοπος and Διάκονοι in the Ignatian Literature Ever since Edwin Hatch’s book, scholars have often argued that in the early Church there was a two-fold model (episcopal–diaconal).29 Another model would be that the basis for ministry was fundamentally presbyteral.30 There is ample discussion about the way these models related to each other, but most scholars follow Hans Lietzmann who suggested that two systems were brought together in a three-fold order (ἐπίσκοπος-πρεσβύτερος-διάκονος).31 Although in the early Church of the first centuries we find several texts where a two-fold ministry seems to be the case, Ignatius of Antioch, as we saw above, is adduced as the first witness to the three-fold structure.32 26 Being πιστός is the hallmark of any διάκονος. For the importance of fidelity and perseverance in one’s diakonia, see Tychicus (Eph  6:21; Col  4:7), Epaphras (Col  1:7), and Archippus (Col  4:17). For Paul himself as depicted as faithful in his ministry, see 1 Tim  1:12. For a relation between διάκονοι and πίστις, see also 1 Tim  3:9. 27  The Didache: Its Jewish Sources and its Place in Early Judaism and Christianity (CRINT; Section III, Jewish Traditions in Early Christian Literature; Assen: Van Gorcum, 2002), 339. 28  Didache, 338. 29 Hatch, Organization. 30  For a sketch of this problem, see, for example, Alistair Stewart-Sykes, “Deacons in the Syrian Church Order Tradition: A Search for Origins,” in Diakonia, Diaconiae Diaconato: Semantica e storia nei Padri della Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9 maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Roma: Augustinianum, 2010), 111–19. Unfortunately, Stewart-Sykes gives little specific attention to deacons or to the diaconate in that article. 31  Hans Lietzmann, “Zur altchristlichen Verfassungsgeschichte,” Zeitschrift für wissenschaftliche Theologie 55 (1914); reprinted in: Kertelge, Das Kirchliche Amt, 93–143. See Georg Schöllgen, Die Anfänge der Professionalisierung des Klerus und das Kirchliche Amt in der syrischen Didaskalie (Münster, 1998), 124. 32  For the origin of hierarchy, see John St. H. Gibaut, The Cursus Honorum: A Study and Evolution of Sequential Ordination (New York: Peter Lang, 2000), 3; see my article “Diakon: Adjutant des Bischofs oder Sprungbrett zur Priestschaft. Randbemerkungen zur jüngsten

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However, it would be worthwhile to focus on the structure of ministry within the assumed three-fold ministry. There are several arguments which show that within the ministries mentioned in the Ignatian letters there is still a special relationship between the bishop and the deacons, which to a certain extent ­reflects the earlier two-fold ministry as the administrative unity of Christian communities.33

4. What Do Bishops and Deacons Do and How Is Their Relationship Typified? There can be no doubt that Ignatius’ letters reflect a situation in which the ἐπίσκοπος is on his way to becoming the centre of the community. That is clear from the statistics: ἐπίσκοπος 57 (or 58) times, πρεσβύτερος 12,34 and διάκονος 17.35 There is discussion about the extent to which Ignatius describes a situation in which the supremacy of the bishop in his environment was already established or one in which he needs to assert his authority, maybe vis à vis the council of presbyters.36 When Ignatius refers to bishops, quite often he talks about specific tasks or persons (like Onesimus in Ign. Eph. 1.3 and 6.2, Damas in Ign. Magn. 2, and Polycarp in Ign. Magn. 15.1). He declares several times that the community has Studie über Cursus Honorum,” Diaconia Christi 41 (2006): 41–46. See Alexandre Faivre, Naissance d’une hiérarchie, Les premières étapes du cursus clérical (Paris: Cerf, 1977). 33  In literature about ministry, the position of deacons is often only mentioned in passing and not examined in its own right and not even as part of the three-fold ministry. One example suffices. In his survey of the historical development of the ministry of leadership in the early church, Sullivan also discusses Ignatius’ epistles, but although in the end he summarises what is said about the presbyters and the bishops, he does not reflect on the status and character of the role of deacons: see his From Apostles to Bishops, 104–23. Also Robert Zollitsch (Amt und Funktion des Priesters: Eine Untersuchung zum Ursprung und zur Gestalt des Presbyterats in den ersten zwei Jahrhunderten [Freiburg: Herder, 1974]) seems to neglect that somewhat. In older literature there is sometimes a better assessment of the role of deacons, see, for example, Paul August Leder, Die Diakonen der Bischöfe und Presbyter und ihre Urchrist­ lichen Vorläufer: Untersuchungen über die Vorgeschichte und die Anfänge des Archidiakonats (Kirchliche Abhandlungen 23–24; Stuttgart: Ferdinand Enke, 1905), 144–51 and Johann Nepo­ muk Seidl, Der Diakonat in der katholischen Kirche, dessen hieratische Würde und geschichtliche Entwicklung: eine Kirchenrechts-geschichtliche Abhandlung (Regensburg, 1884). 34  However note that the priesthood as a collective is also mentioned thirteen times. 35 I used Henricus Kraft, Clavis Patrum Apostolicorum (Darmstadt: Wissenschafltiche Buchgesellschaft, 1963). Of course, it is possible that one can find slightly different numbers sometimes because of text critical differences, for example, in Ign. Trall. 7.1.2. Note: Ignatius does not use the verb διακονέω. 36  See Frances Young, “On ΕΠΙΣΚΟΠΟΣ and ΠΡΕΣΒΥΤΕΡΟΣ,” JTS, NS 45 (1994): 146; reprinted in id., Exegesis and Theology in Early Christianity (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012) as chapter 9; Campbell, The Elders, 217. Ignatius himself suggests that bishops are appointed in every quarter (Ign. Eph. 3.1).

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to follow the path of the bishop (Ign. Eph. 4.1; see also Ign. Magn. 4.1). The bishop is the one who is responsible for the Eucharist. Only that Eucharist is valid which is held under the bishop or whomever he entrusts it to (Ign. Smyrn. 8.1). Similarly, it is not permissible to baptise or to assemble for the special gather­ing for a meal, an ἀγάπη, apart from the bishop. The bishop is also involved in proprieties attaching to marriage (Ign. Pol. 5). While bishops are clearly men of flesh and blood, individual presbyters on the other hand are hidden within a collective. Although in this article we focus on the relationship between bishop and deacons, here we have to note that in the epistles of Ignatius the relationship between a bishop and priests is between a bishop and the priests as a group: πρεσβυτέριον (Ign. Eph. 2.2; 4.1; 20.2; Ign. Magn. 2; 13.1; Ign. Trall. 2.1–2; 7.1–2; 13.2; Ign. Phld. 4.1; (5:1), 7.1; Ign. Smyrn. 8.1 and 12.2; see also Ign. Magn. 6.1; 7.1; Ign. Trall. 3.1 and Ign. Phld. intro; there we do not find the word πρεσβυτέριον, but only the plural πρεσβύτεροι). It is only in Ignatius to the Magnesians 2 that we find something explicit about two priests not in the context of their collective. There Ignatius tells that he had been visited by bishop Damas, by the πρεσβύτεροι Bassus and Apollonius, and by the deacon Zotion. Although Ignatius mentions deacons seventeen times in his letters, there are not many explicit indications of their tasks or duties.37 He refers to some deacons by name and he brings up some of their tasks in passing.38 In line with what John Collins said about διάκονοι, we can see that deacons can act as delegates.39 In his letter to the Philadelphians (11.1) as well as in the one to the Smyrnians (10.1), Ignatius speaks about the deacons Philo and Rheus Agathopous, who accompany him and probably were the messengers of the report in 11.1. It is quite remarkable that Ignatius reports about Philo that he is his helper in the word of God. Schoedel remarks in a footnote that Philo serving Ignatius “in the 37 See Alexandre Faivre, “Les enjeux de l’inferiorisation des Diakonoi dans une triade ministerielle,” in Grossi, Koet and Van Geest, Diakonia, Diaconiae, Diaconato, 135–49. Faivre sees two forms of information regarding deacons in the epistles of Ignatius: concrete information about the deacons known to Ignatius, and more general theological ideas. For an extensive discussion of the different deacons in the epistles of Ignatius, see Junod, “Les diacres d’Ignace.” For another assessment of deacons in the churches Ignatius knew, see John N. Collins, Deacons and the Church: Making Connections between Old and New (Herefordshire-Harrisburg: Gracewing-Morehouse, 2002), 104–9. For the relationship between the bishop and deacons in the longer recension, see Felix Albrecht, “Diaconus Christ: Heron von Antiochien und die Diakonatskonzeption der (Ps.-)Ignatianen,” in Grossi, Koet and Van Geest, Diakonia, Diaconiae, Diaconato, 235–44. 38  Ignatius mentions Bourros (Ign. Eph. 2.1), Zotion (Ign. Magn. 2.2) and Philo, the deacon of Cilicia (Ign. Phld. 11.1). 39 Ign. Phld. 10.1 and 11.1; see John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 22009, see also his “A Monocultural Usage: διακον-words in Classical, Hellenistic, and Patristic Sources,” VC 66 (2012): 287–309.

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word of God” does not appear to define the clerical function of the messenger, because such a reference to the word of God could be quite undifferentiated.40 However, the relationship between deacons and the word of God is not unexpected, given the stories in Acts about the Seven (see also 1 Tim  3:9). The mention of a deacon being a helper in the word of God seems to be in line with Ignatius’ letter to the Trallians (2.3): They, however, who are διάκονοι of the mysteries of Jesus Christ must be pleasing to all men in every way. For they are not διάκονοι of food and drink, but they are ὑπηρέται of the ecclesia of God; they must therefore guard against blame as against fire.41

Thus, Junod is probably right when he suggests that here we get a glimpse of deacons as servants of the mysteries of Jesus Christ.42 There is one thing, however, that is quite clear about deacons in the letters of Ignatius: deacons have a special relationship with their bishop. The first passage where one can find three ministries mentioned is in Ignatius, To the Magnesians, 6.1: Be zealous to do all things in harmony43 with God, with the bishop presiding in the place of God and the presbyters in the place of the Council of the Apostles and the deacons who are most dear to me, entrusted with the service (διακονία) of Jesus Christ, who was from eternity with the Father and was made manifest at the end of time.44

According to Schoedel it is not so clear what lies behind this comparison.45 It is remarkable that the priests are compared to the Apostles. However, one thing seems to me quite sure. While like the apostles the priests represent a collective, the bishop is assigned the place of God and the deacons are assigned the ministry of Jesus Christ.46 Jesus Christ belongs to God as a son belongs to the father, 40 Schoedel,

Ignatius, 214. Translation and the following Greek text by Kirsopp Lake, The Apostolic Fathers (London: Heinemann-Putnam’s sons, 1919): Ign. Trall. 2:3: δεῖ δὲ καὶ τοὺς διακόνους ὄντας μυστηρίων Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ κατὰ πάντα τρόπον πᾶσιν ἀρέσκειν. οὐ γὰρ βρωμάτων καὶ ποτῶν εἰσιν διάκονοι, ἀλλ’ ἐκκλησίας θεοῦ ὑπηρέται· δέον οὖν αὐτοὺς φυλάσσεσθαι τὰ ἐγκλήματα ὡς πῦρ. 42  Junod, “Les diacres d’Ignace,” 205–6. 43  For unity as an important element in ancient rhetoric, see Odd M. Bakke, “Concord and Peace”: A Rhetorical Analysis of the First Letter of Clement with an Emphasis on the Language of Unity and Sedition (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 63–203. 44  Translation and Greek text by Kirsopp Lake, The Apostolic Fathers, Ign. Magn. 6.1: ἐν ὁμονοίᾳ θεοῦ σπουδάζετε πάντα πράσσειν, προκαθημένου τοῦ ἐπισκόπου εἰς τόπον θεοῦ καὶ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων εἰς τόπον συνεδρίου τῶν ἀποστόλων, καὶ τῶν διακόνων τῶν ἐμοὶ γλυκυτάτων πεπιστευμένων διακονίαν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, ὃς πρὸ αἰώνων παρὰ πατρὶ ἦν καὶ ἐν τέλει ἐφάνη. 45 Schoedel, Ignatius, 112–13. 46  One can also find the image of the bishop as father in other places in the letters; see, for example, Ign. Magn. 3.1 (note: we find here also the image of God as bishop), and Ign. Smyrn. 8.1. Hatch (Organization, 41) remarks on the comparison between God and the bishop: “a metaphor, which almost startles us by its boldness.” Ign. Magn. 6.1 is a possible background to the Syrian Didascalia 9, where the same metaphors are used; for a discussion of this relation, see Schöllgen, Anfänge der Professionalisierung des Klerus, 119. 41 

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and thus the bishop and the deacons belong to each other as a father to his sons.47 At the end of this letter (13.1–2), Ignatius refers again to the three-fold ministry: with your most right worthy ἐπίσκοπος and with the worthily woven spiritual crown, your presbytery and with the deacons of God48

Although less explicit, he again compares the bishop with the Father (13.2), and again the priests are conceived as forming a council. They are no longer referred to as individuals but are depicted as a neatly woven unity, a crown. Ignatius, To the Trallians, 3.1 strongly resembles Ignatius, To the Magnesians, 6.1. After his praising of the community in To the Trallians 1, he turns in chapter 2 to the unity of this community under the guidance of their bishop. Igna­tius describes how the bishop is the centre of the community and how this audience, the ecclesia in Tralles (Asia), is structured under the bishop, as under Jesus Christ (2.1). He admonishes them to do nothing without the bishop and to be subject to the presbytery (2.2). Speaking about the deacons, he changes his tone. The deacons of the mysteries of Christ have to please all (see above; for pleasing all see 1 Cor  10:33).49 Deacons are not the deacons of eating and drinking, but they are helpers (ὑπηρέται) of the ecclesia of God (2.3).50 While in 2.1 the bishop is compared with Jesus Christ, in the following verse Ignatius also compares the deacons with him: Likewise, let all respect the deacons as Jesus Christ, even as the bishop is also a type (τύπος) of the Father, and the presbyters as the council of God and the college of Apostles’. Without these the name of ‘Church’ is not given.51 47  Sullivan (From Apostles to Bishops, 106) interprets this relationship as a kind of special sentiment of Ignatius (“Ignatius seems to have felt an especially close bond with deacons”), but fails to see that this bond is also due to the institutional relationship. Because deacons were often younger, the relation with their bishop is probably comparable with the special teacher– disciple relationship. In the meantime, older bishops really can receive enormous help from the company of a deacon as a younger assistant, especially when travelling. See Collins, Deacons and the Church, 105: “The hints of an inherent bond between bishop and deacon, which other early documents provide, find full and considered expression in Ignatius.” 48  Own Translation; Greek text by Lake, The Apostolic Fathers, Ign. Magn. 13.1: μετὰ τοῦ ἀξιοπρεπεστάτου ἐπισκόπου ὑμῶν καὶ ἀξιοπλόκου πνευματικοῦ στεφάνου τοῦ πρεσβυτερίου ὑμῶν καὶ τῶν κατὰ θεὸν διακόνων. 49  Not only here, but also elsewhere the vocabulary of Ignatius reminds us of that of Paul. Within the limits of this article it is not possible to reflect on this phenomenon, but see Carl B. Smith, “Ministry, Martyrdom and other Mysteries: Pauline Influence on Ignatius of Antioch,” in Michael F. Bird and Joseph R. Dodson, Paul and the Second Century (London: T&T Clark, 2011). 50 Collins, Diakonia, 240–41, considers ὑπηρέται in its sense of “[minor] officials,” “officers”; the term is a standard one for civil servants, middle and lower ranks of bureaucrats. For the relation between this verse and Pauline literature, see Faivre, “Les enjeux de l’inferiorisation des Diakonoi,” 142–46. 51 Ign. Trall. 3.1; translation and text by Lake: Ὁμοίως πάντες ἐντρεπέσθωσαν τοὺς διακόνους

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More succinctly than in To the Magnesians, 6.1, the relationship between the bishop and his deacons is again stated as like that between father and sons. However, in this letter he compares both the bishop (2.1) and the deacons (3.1) with Jesus Christ and thus stresses their common mission. As elsewhere, the priests in Ignatius, To the Trallians, 2.2 and 3.1 are presented as a collective. Schoedel argues, as mentioned above, that when Ignatius talks about the deacons, he fails to explain the basis of the comparison.52 He sees this as an indication that Ignatius stresses the bond between bishops and presbyters and sets the deacons apart from them. In my opinion there is indeed a difference between the relationship between bishops and presbyters, and the one between a bishop and deacons. While the relationship between a bishop and the priests is nearly always between a single person and a collective, the relationship between a bishop and a deacon is quite often more personal and even more intimate.53 However, Ignatius also creates other links between the bishop and deacons. Lightfoot already noted that the function which deacons had in common with the bishop is administration.54 In the New Testament, the term διακονία is used for the mission of the apostles, but also for that of the Seven. In line with its use in the New Testament, Ignatius uses it once for the ministry of the bishop and three times for the ministry of deacons. It is not used for the ministry of the πρεσβύτεροι.55 Deacons, who are most dear to Ignatius, have, like the bishop, the διακονία of Jesus Christ.56 Thus, the bishops and deacons seem to be in charge of the daily management of the community. This is in line with what Georg Schöllgen finds in the Syrian Didascalia.57 At quite an early stage bishops and deacons are depicted as proὡς Ἰησοῦν Χριστόν, ὡς καὶ τὸν ἐπίσκοπον ὄντα τύπον τοῦ πατρός, τοὺς δὲ πρεσβυτέρους ὡς συνέδριον θεοῦ καὶ ὡς σύνδεσμον ἀποστόλων. χωρὶς τούτων ἐκκλησία οὐ καλεῖται. 52 Schoedel, Ignatius, 113. 53  Within the limits of this article it is not possible to investigate any further the background and context of such a collective. I am inclined to follow Hatch (Organization, 18,55– 65), that the Jewish council of elders is an important background to the phenomenon. 54 Lightfoot, Apostolic Fathers, 133–34. 55  Faivre, “Les enjeux de l’inferiorisation des Diakonoi,” 137–38. 56  It seems to me that the instruction in Ign. Smyrn. 8.1 that the people are to “respect the deacons as the commandment of God” is related to their being assistants of the bishop, who is the first interpreter of the Word of God. Here I cannot pursue this argument. See also Ign. Trall. 3.1. 57 Schöllgen, Die Anfänge der Professionalisierung des Klerus, 55–57, especially 56. According to several traditions in the early Church, during persecutions bishops were quite often martyred together with their deacons. Famous examples are Lawrence with his bishop Xystus (or Sistus); Vincent of Sarragossa was imprisoned together with his bishop Valerius. Vincent was martyred and Valerius was sent into exile. There are also less famous examples like Hermagoras, the alleged first bishop of the once very important diocese Aquileia and his deacon Fortunatus, who according to tradition were martyred together. In 177 the first bishop of Grenoble, Pothin, is said to be martyred together with the deacon Sanctus and a slave

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fessionals. This seems to be confirmed by the fact that while the deacons have to be present at each gathering, the πρεσβύτεροι are not yet obliged to be there.58

5. The Deacon as the Σύνδουλος of the Bishop What does Ignatius mean when he calls a deacon his σύνδουλος? In the beginning of his epistles, which according to tradition Ignatius sent from Smyrna, he refers to delegations from those cities that sent delegates to visit him. In To the Ephesians, 2.1, Ignatius refers to bishop Onesimus and to deacon Burrhus, who is his σύνδουλος but is also a deacon of Ephesus and as such serves that community and, of course, their bishop.59 Ignatius asks that this deacon may stay in his company. In To the Magnesians, 2, Ignatius tells the community of Magnesia about a visit he received from the representatives of their three clerical orders, from their bishop, from two priests, and from deacon Zotion. This deacon is submitted to his bishop and to the presbyterium as a group, but he is also typified as “my [thus Ignatius’] σύνδουλος.” In To the Philadelphians, 11.2 and To the Smyrnians, 12.1, Ignatius refers again to the deacon Burrhus. It seems that here Burrhus serves the communications between Bishop Ignatius and these communities. Also an anonymous deacon is mentioned as a messenger in To the Philadelphians, 10. As later, for example in the letters of Augustine and Jerome, here we encounter the deacon as messenger, as somebody who is strong enough to travel, and faithful enough to transmit personal letters and who can assist a bishop in one way or another, even one who is not his own bishop. 60 In To the Smyrnians, 12.2, Ignatius refers to the deacons of Smyrna as his fellow-servants (σύνδουλοι; see also Ign. Phld. 4.1). Why does Ignatius call deacons his σύνδουλοι? Rius-Camps, in his plea for an Ignatius with a “low” ecclesiology, argues that in the present text the role played by Ignatius in the community is not treated uniformly. 61 Only in Ign. Rom. 2.2 he does present himself as τὸν ἐπίσκοπον Συρίας, the bishop of the Roman province Syria. In the other letters Ignatius never associates himself with the categoBlandina. Another example is the combination of Irenaeus, bishop of Sirmium, and his deacon Demetrius. To persecute the bishop and his deacon was maybe the most effective way of destroying the management of the church. 58  Traditio Apostolica 34. Stewart (Original Bishops) argues that presbuteroi is a kind of overlapping term inclusive of the more specific titles as episkopos and diakonos. However, I doubt whether this idea fits the letters of Ignatius. In his writings, it is more probable that the presbuteroi form a kind of group, distinctive from the episkopos and his diakonoi. 59  See Junod, “Les diacres d’Ignace,” 204: “on observe cependant que deux communautés peuvent s’associer pour confier une tâche à un diacre issu de l’une d’elles.” 60  Junod (“Diacres d’Ignace,” 205) rightly stresses the connection between letter-bearer and deacon. 61  For this and what follows, see Rius-Camps, Four Authentic Letters, 34–38.

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ry of bishop. According to Rius-Camps, instead of making common cause with the bishop he shows his solidarity with the deacons, calling them his fellow-servants (Ignatius is the only Apostolic Father who uses this word, and he uses it only in the four instances above). It seems to me that Rius-Camps overlooks here the importance of the prefix συν. The person addressed as σύνδουλος is not necessarily on the same social level as the person delivering the address. Already Paul stresses the fact that functionaries in the church have to be co-operators. He is for example one of the few authors of epistles in antiquity who in the introduction of his letters mentions co-authors. The suggestion that Paul avoids presenting his evangelisation as a solitary endeavour is confirmed by passages such as 1 Cor  3, where he depicts the relation between himself and Apollos as a collaboration (see the Pauline terminology as συνεργός). 62 Some centuries later, Bishop Augustine will again and again assert that he is co-bishop with the other bishops, he is co-priest with the other priests, and he is co-deacon with the other deacons. For Augustine it is important to stress what he shares with other clerics. 63 Using the term σύνδουλος as a designation of a deacon, Ignatius is in line with Pauline terminology.64 Paul, who presents himself as an apostle in his epistles, refers in Col  1:7 to Epaphras and in 4:7 to Tychicus.65 He identifies them as his assistants and as διάκονοι of Christ: As you also learned of Epaphras our dear fellow-servant (τοῦ ἀγαπητοῦ συνδούλου ἡμῶν), who is for you a faithful minister (διάκονος) of Christ (see 1:7 KJV). All my state shall Tychicus declare unto you, who is a beloved brother, and a faithful minister (διάκονος) and fellow-servant (σύνδουλος) in the Lord (4:7 KJV).

These passages in Colossians combine the terms διάκονος and σύνδουλος. 66 Commentaries on this epistle often hasten to mention that these deacons are of course not clerical deacons. However, their typification seems to be totally in line with the typifications of later deacons, like Burrhus in the Ignatian letters 62  Ignatius elsewhere also uses words to show that he and his audience share a position or an attitude. Wilkins (“Ministry, Martyrdom and Discipleship,” 311) refers to Ign. Eph. 3.1. Συνδιδασκαλίτης is a hapax legomenon, possibly invented by Ignatius to show that as a bishop he is still a fellow-student to his audience. He has also some other words with συν/συμ; see συμμύσται in Ign. Eph. 12.2, where Ignatius argues that his audience are fellow-initiates with Paul. 63  See my The Go-Between: Augustine on deacons (Leiden: Brill, 2019), 62. 64 For points of contact between the epistles of Paul and those of Ignatius, see Smith, “Ministry, Martyrdom and other Mysteries.” 65  The authenticity of Paul’s epistle to the Colossians is disputed. For our purposes that is not important. We just want to show that Ignatius’ use of σύνδουλος does not necessarily reflect an equal relationship between Ignatius and Burrhus, but it does establish that they share a common attitude. 66  Although these two terms also serve two distinct purposes, as discussed by Collins, Diakonia, 222–23: the term διάκονος stresses the fact that these men are emissaries, while σύνδουλος typifies them more as common servants of the Lord.

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and even like a deacon such as Deogratias in Augustine’s De catechizandis rudibus. Thus we could typify them also as a kind of proto-deacon. 67 We suggest that in the epistles of Ignatius the word σύνδουλος stresses the link between a bishop and his helpers.68 In a certain sense he follows Paul to the extent that in the community of disciples of Jesus, all ministry is one or another form of shared ministry. 69

6. Ignatius’ Qualifications for Deacons Finally, it is important to note that one gets another glimpse into the relationship between a bishop and his deacon by the way Ignatius describes them.70 In To the Magnesians, 6.1, Ignatius declares that the deacons are “most dear to me” (τῶν ἐμοὶ γλυκυτάτων).71 Elsewhere he states that deacon Burrhus is blessed (Περὶ δὲ τοῦ συνδούλου μου Βούρρου, τοῦ κατὰ θεὸν διακόνου ὑμῶν ἐν πᾶσιν εὐλογημένου; Ign. Eph. 2.1). It is in line with the requirements for ministry (see, for example, 1 Tim  3:7) that a deacon has to have a good reputation: Περὶ δὲ Φίλωνος τοῦ διακόνου ἀπὸ Κιλικίας, ἀνδρὸς μεμαρτυρημένου (Ign. Phld. 11.1). An interesting point is made in To the Magnesians, 2.1. In line with Paul’s word-play with the name Onesimus in Philemon 10–11, Ignatius argues that he will benefit from the deacon Zotion (τοῦ συνδούλου μου διακόνον Ζωτίωνος, οὗ ἐγὼ ὀναίμην,).72 It seems to me that Ignatius shows that the deacon is at his service, and that is what we can expect from a younger man, assisting a bishop. 73

7. Conclusion Although it is true that Ignatius mentions in his texts three different ministries, the special bond between bishop and deacon as a kind of two-fold leadership is still quite identifiable. Ignatius qualifies the relationship between bishop and 67 

Augustine uses the word conservus in Catech. 1,2 to typify his relation to other clerics. (Cursus Honorum, 27) also notes that Ignatius follows the earlier tradition by coupling the bishop and the deacons. Ignatius refers to them as “fellow-servants.” 69  This concurs with the fact that Jesus sends his disciples out two by two on their mission of evangelising. 70  Ignatius gives a metaphorical description of the priests. We have also to note that this description precisely stresses the fact that their individuality is subordinate to the collective: “For your presbytery is attuned to the bishop as strings to a lyre” (Ign. Eph. 4.1). 71  In his translation into Dutch, A. Freek J. Klijn notes that Ignatius shows his special affection for deacons several times. See A. Freek J. Klijn (introduction and translation), Ignatius en Polycarpus (Kampen: Kok, 1966), 53. 72  The verb is ὀνίνημι > ὀνίvαμαι. 73  Within the limits of this article, I cannot deal with the interesting passage about the young man, who became bishop (Ign. Magn. 3.1). 68  Gibaut

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deacons as close and even quite intimate; they belong together like father and sons. It should be noted that Ignatius nearly always speaks about the πρεσβύτεροι in plural form or refers to them as a group. He apparently compares the πρεσβύτεροι with the Apostles because of their forming a college.74 While the bishop is in charge and deacons do help him, the priests seems to be more of a senate of older and wise men.75 While the priests mostly remain anonymous, Ignatius gives several names of deacons and sheds some insight as to how these deacons were assisting their “father.” Like Paul beforehand and Augustine ­afterwards, Ignatius sees the deacons as sharing in his own ministry. He is a δοῦλος with a διακονία for his flock, and they are his σύνδουλοι.76 The deacons are his messengers and “postmen.” They are not only responsible for the food and drink, but they have to please all people (Ign. Trall. 2.3). It is even possible that a deacon is a helper for the word of God. Thus there are enough indications in the epistles that although Ignatius mentions ἐπίσκοποι, διάκονοι, and the presbyterate, his writings reflect at the same time that active ministry is still a form of two-fold ministry.77 This conclusion is relevant for the dating of the material. It makes the supposed transition from a two-fold ministry to a three-fold one less sudden and more fluent. As such, the relationship between the three ministries in the churches of ­Ignatius may be compared to the relationships in a company of today. The ­bishop resembles the CEO, the deacons are a mix of his personal assistants and his managers, and the presbyterium reflects the position of the board.

74 Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops, 110; See, for example, Ign. Phld. 7.1; Ign. Smyrn. 8.1 and 12.2; Ign. Eph. 2.2; 20.2. 75  This probably leads Gibaut (Cursus Honorum, 27) to the conclusion that they are much less significant. 76  Stewart (Original Bishops, 110–11) sees one of the reasons for the close relationship between the ἐπίσκοπος and διάκονοι is that both ministries are economic. I can only partly agree with him. In my opinion he stresses the economic mission too much at the expense of the more educational character of the ministry. 77  Gibaut (Cursus Honorum, 27) also notes that Ignatius follows earlier tradition by coupl­ ing the bishop and the deacons. Ignatius refers to them as “fellow-servants.”

Διακον- and Deacons in Clement of Alexandria1 John N. Collins

The initial purpose of this investigation was to provide a profile of the diaconate on the basis of information derived from usage of διακον- terms in the writings of Clement of Alexandria. Since research quickly revealed, however, that the information was inadequate for that task, the focus shifted to an examination of the semantic range itself. Although Clement provides very little direct information about deacons, we discover, in addition to his esteem for their place in the church, that the usage of διακον- terms by this deeply Christian and broadly learned Hellenistic writer in Alexandria at the end of the second cen­tury is of the same character evident throughout the Greek classical era and discernible also in preceding Christian sources.2 Clement’s writings include (approximate word counts added) Protrepticus (23,000 words), Paedagogus (56,500), Stromata (162,000), Quis dives salvetur (9,000), and Excerpta ex Theodoto (7,500). These figures add up to about 260,000 words, and among them διακον- terms occur only seventy times. Of these seven­ty instances, five are in reference to deacons.3 If five appears a minimal statistic, seventy instances of διακον- words in an ancient writer is not minimal. In Demosthenes we find only twelve instances; in Plato thirty-two; in Herodotus four. In fact, the διακον- words were comparatively rare in classical and Hellenistic Greek.4 Moreover, when one of these terms does appear, it is often because the ancient author was seeking to achieve a special effect. As we proceed, we will notice some special effects in Clement. But if we add to his five references to deacons the fact that he mentions bishops 1  Paper presented at the conference “Διάκονος: What did deacons do?” Joensuu, University of Eastern Finland, School of Theology, September 12–14, 2017. Edited slightly for publication. 2  For a summary of the character of the usage, see John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 194 and Appendix I; “A Monocultural Usage: διακον-words in Classical, Hellenistic, and Patristic Sources,” VC 66 (2012): 287–309. 3  Paed. 3.12.97; Strom. 3.6.53; 3.12.88; 6.13.107; 7.1.3. References to Clement are to online TLG (Thesaurus Linguae Graecae). 4 Collins, Diakonia, 336 n.  3.2.

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only twelve times, we can probably conclude that Clement’s focus was not on matters relating to the institution or organisation of the Christian church.

1. The Christian Culture Reading him, we soon realise what his focus was. Clement was largely writing about the culture within the church. He was writing about the way of life expected of those who believed in Jesus, the Spirit, and the Father God. Clement provides indications that by 180 C.E. a Christian person was in a position to realise that she or he belonged to a group that possessed a distinctive culture within the broad, age-old, deep, dominant mythic culture of the Hellenistic world.5 The new culture Clement writes about is what we can call an ecclesial culture. In calling it “ecclesial,” we have in mind a group of people sensing a high new call to share with each other in a high new promise. The name Clement gives to the ideal ecclesial person living within the ecclesial culture is γνωστικός. Given the place of “gnostic” in today’s discourse on religion in the ancient Mediterranean world, the term is not helpful in relation to Clement at this point. Gnosticism speaks mainly of a deviant, unorthodox, or alternative Christianity among a so-called plurality of Christian groups. For Clement, however, the γνωστικός was the Christian fully equipped with the new understanding of the beginnings and endings of the cosmos and of living within it that has been revealed in the coming and the going of the Christ. This creates a very large context indeed for Clement’s reflections.

2. Clement’s Gnostic In his Stromata (in English often called Miscellanies) Clement insists that what is under review for the Gnostic is “really philosophy,” that is, “strictly systematic Wisdom,” this being “certain knowledge of things divine and human, comprehending the present, past, and future.”6 Precisely such a philosophic capacity is what the Greeks had sought and what God gave to them. And it was given “as a covenant to them – being, as it is, a stepping-stone to the philosophy which is according to Christ.”7 As thus being, however, of a preparatory character, “Paul deems it unworthy of the man who has attained to the elevation of the Gnostic to go back to the Hellenic philosophy.”8 5  Illustrating Clement’s close engagement with the Greek literary tradition is his treatment of plagiarism in Strom. 6.2. 6  Strom. 6.7.54. 7  Strom. 6.8.67. 8  Strom. 6.8.62.

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This being the case, it is important that we come to some understanding of how far Clement expects the Christian γνωστικός to be transformed by his Christian experience. Clement begins by making a challenging statement about life in the afterworld: Those who have lived perfectly and gnostically according to the Gospel may be enrolled in the chosen body of the apostles.9

The apostles, of course, no longer exist within the earthly church. They are with the Lord in eternal life. The γνωστικός, however, is as true to the gospel of the Lord as the apostle was, and the γνωστικός will reach the same level of glory as the apostle.

3. The Gnostic as “Διάκονος” Of interest to us is how Clement explains why the γνωστικός reaches such a level. In order to explain this, Clement draws on the term διάκονος. In doing so Clement provides us with an example of how he is using the term to “special effect”: If the γνωστικός does and teaches what is the Lord’s (τὰ τοῦ κυρίου), such a person is in reality a presbyter of the Church […]. 10

Clement can say this because the γνωστικός is living the gospel “perfectly” in the way that is expected also of the presbyter. Because the γνωστικός is living “according to the Gospel” in this way, Clement is able to say further that that person is a true minister (διάκονος) of the will of God.11

The will of God is, of course, that all Christians live according to “what is the Lord’s”: all Christians are to do and to teach what the Lord does and teaches. The person living in this manner is a διάκονος or “agent” of God’s will in the same way that the statesman, according to Plato, is the διάκονος or “agent” of the state. Two chapters in Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources discuss and illustrate this basic usage.12 Clement proceeds to deepen this line of thinking: According to my opinion, the grades here in the Church, of bishops, presbyters, deacons, are imitations of the angelic glory, and of that economy which, the Scriptures say, awaits those who have lived in perfection of righteousness according to the Gospel.13 9 

Strom. 6.13.106. Strom. 6.13.106. 11  Strom. 6.13.106: διάκονος ἀληθὴς τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ βουλήσεως. 12 Collins, Diakonia, 77–95, 133–49. 13  Strom. 6.13.107. 10 

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The Gnostic, then, is impressed with the closest likeness, that is, with the mind of the Master.14

What we see here is a comprehensive commendation of philosophy. This commendation embraces both traditional Greek philosophy – the “Hellenic philosophy” in the citation above – and the new economy of Christianity. Clement is very generous to the ancient Greeks, presenting their culture as a divine covenant with God. But without Christ, Greek culture is not as nourishing as we need. Clement compares it to a nut: full of flavour but not all of it is edible.15 The “Hellenic philosophy” will never outshine the glories of Christianity because on earth the Christian economy is itself an expression of the divine economy. The Christian person who attains the rank of γνωστικός is “impressed” with the mind of the Master. The imprinted Christian character is the gold standard. For our purposes we do not need to explore or to justify the extraordinary claim made here by Clement, but we are interested to encounter, at the heart of his ecclesiology, Clement’s reliance on a διακον- word. This is in his phrase describing an authentic Christian γνόστικος: as noted above, such a Christian is “a true διάκονος of the will of God.”16

4. Modelling the Heavenly Ranks In this passage, Clement goes on to speak of what he calls the three earthly “grades” or “ranks” (προκοπαί) of bishops, presbyters, and deacons. He names these earthly grades “imitations of angelic glory,” namely, earthly reflections of the ranked heavenly hosts. These timeless heavenly ranks would provide the later historic church with its own rigid institutional framework. The church’s leading thinkers and bishops would take much encouragement from this hierarchical arrangement and, let us be honest, they would develop a damagingly high sense of their own self-worth. In the sixth century, in his The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, Pseudo-Dionysius would give the classic expression to this conceptualization of the church as a hierarchical ranking of earthly churchmen linked into the heavenly ranking of angelic spirits. The bottom earthly rank is that of διάκονος, but that title carries a sense of honor and dignity. As in the language of Plato, Josephus, Paul, and many, in Clement the διακον- words have an affinity with the heavenly sphere and with processes of both transmission and transition between the heavenly

14 

Strom. 6.15.115. Strom. 1.1.7. 16  Strom. 6.13.106; compare Paed. 1.2.4. 15 

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spheres and the earthly sphere. From this perspective, Clement envisages the downward journey of “the Lord’s voice”: the Word, formless, the power of the Word, the enlightening word of the Lord, the truth from heaven, from above, arrives within the assembly of the Church and functions through an intimate luminous interchange/διακονία.17

To give expression on earth of the “formless,” “enlightening” Word from above is the responsibility of the ranked hierarchy, bishops, presbyters, deacons. To live fully by that Word is what the gnostic/γνωστικός does. In doing so, the γνωστικός becomes, in Clement’s phrase, “a true minister of the will of God,” in Clement’s Greek: διάκονος ἀληθἠς τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ βουλήσεως.18 διάκονος here is not designating the deacon in the church of Clement’s day. The διάκονος here is the perfect product of the church’s ministry, any person who has lived, as Clement says, “gnostically.” Clement introduces the διάκονterm into his religious commentary for two reasons. Firstly, because διάκονwords always express activity under a mandate, here according to “the will of God”; and secondly because διάκον- words had an established place in discussion of matters to do with earth and heaven.

5. The Deacon Title The official ecclesial deacon is designated by a term that already had a place in classical Greek religious terminology, although never before as a functionary within a stable social institution. As a term designating a standard functionary within a Christian community or ἐκκλησία, the term διάκονος was in circulation within the later period of the New Testament at 1 Timothy 3:8. Only in 1 Timothy and at Phil  1:2 does the Latin Vulgate translate the Greek term διάκονος as diaconus. In the other 98 instances of the Greek διακον- terms in the New Testament, the Vulgate translates by words of the Latin minister group. Thus the Latin transliteration diaconus evidences the uniform institutional character of deacon terminology within both early Latin-speaking and Greek-speaking churches. This distinctive recognition of the deacon within second century Greek and Latin communities would be repeated in later centuries as the new European vernacular languages developed. The grounds for understanding this ecclesiastical title in the sense of an agent under an ecclesial authority have been explored in Diakonia and Deacons and the Church.19 And it is this aspect of usage that is the most prominent in Clement’s writings. 17 

Strom. 6.3.34. Strom. 6.13.106. 19 Collins, Diakonia, 235–52; John N. Collins, Deacons and the Church: Making Connections between Old and New (Leominster, UK: Gracewing, 2002), 86–117. 18 

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6. A Heavenly Connection Clement’s epithet ἀληθής/“true” is associated with the aspects of agent and messenger. Ἀληθής/“true” parallels the classic designation of the ancient διάκονος as πιστός/faithful. We see this exemplified in Paul’s defence of his own claim to the title of διάκονος (2 Cor  11:23). In this, Paul’s usage is standard Hellenistic/Classic Greek usage. Josephus, in recording his prediction that Vespasian would become emperor, makes a passionate claim for his own entitlement to be recognised as the “διάκονος of the voice of God.”20 Long before, Plato had already illustrated the currency of the διακον- terms in the context of the relationship between heaven and earth. In Plato’s overview of the functioning of human society, priests and prophets operate through a “skill” that is diakonic/διάκονος: the Greek noun-form here functioning as an adjective to designate the skill as “mediatorial.” Again, Plato’s context identifies the mediatorial activity as happening in communications between heaven and earth.21 Clement himself adopts this usage in recalling Moses’ reluctance to accept his call from God: “Who am I to transmit the voice of God in human speech?”22 (“to transmit”: διακονῆσαι).23 Indeed, Clement notes elsewhere, all the prophets “previous to the incarnation of the Word” and “sent and inspired by the Lord” were διάκονοι.24 Just as prophets are God’s διάκονοι, so false prophets are διάκονοι of apostates,25 this bringing to mind Paul’s accusation that his opponents were διάκονοι of Satan (2 Cor  11:23).

7. A Hellenistic Cluster of Agent Diakonoi The religious character of the usage was thus already part of Greek language prior to the introduction of διάκονος to designate the particular functionary we know as deacon in early Christian communities. Clement’s call upon the διακονterms outside of an ecclesial context is part of his own cultural immersion in things Greek and does not derive from any so-called specifically Christian use of the words in earlier Christian documents and oral traditions. He shows no 20  See further the discussion of Josephus’ claim to the title (B.J. 3.354 and 401–2) in Collins, Diakonia, 111–15. 21  Resp.   290c. See the analysis in Diakonia, ch. 4. See also “The Mediatorial Aspect of Paul’s Role as Diakonos,” AusBr 40 (1992): 34–44, also in Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 101–12. 22  Strom. 4.17.106. 23  See a parallel in Abraham’s deathbed prayer, Testament of Abraham (A) 9;24; Collins, Diakonia, 98–99. 24  Strom. 1.17.81; see also 2.8.36; Paed. 1.9.79. 25  Strom. 1.17.85.

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interest at all in attempting to identify specifically Christian values deriving from occurrences of the words in the New Testament. This statement is thus in criticism of commentators and ecclesiologists of the second half of the twentieth century who suppose some such process to have been widely at work across early Christian Greek.26 Clement’s appeal to the New Testament in the material surveyed in this paper was in fact infrequent.27 In Clement’s period, the “deacon” of the Christian church was so named after the manner of the New Testament (Phil  1:1; 1 Tim  3:8) simply because the Greek term διάκονος continued to be recognised as a suitable designation for a functionary acting at a subordinate level within a religious establishment. At the same time, the origins of such a functionary is not to be sought through association with the functionaries named διάκονοι who operated at traditional religious festivals. While performing a religious function, these διάκονοι were named after the table attendants at formal dinners and among the affluent. This ecclesial διάκονος of the early Christians is also to be distinguished from what we might call the “apostolic” διάκονος engaged in what Clement names “the διακονία to the Gentiles.”28 This missional character of the usage remains fundamental for Clement in reference to pastoral endeavours. The evangelising mission is initiated under “the inspiration of God,” through the collaboration of no less than “divine ministers” (θείων λειτουργῶν), who commit themselves to “such sacred undertakings (διακονίας).”29 On his own mission, and in his dispute with the Corinthians concerning that, Paul had chosen διάκονος as his own preferred self-designation. He elaborated richly on what this designation implied for his status and function as an “apostle.” But whether in relation to an “apostolic” function or to a “diaconal” function, the designation διάκονος implies and requires of the individual so designated that she or he remains πιστός/faithful, ἀληθής/true. This aspect is reflected in commendations of ecclesial emissaries at Col  1:7; 4:7 and in Paul’s own apologia in 2 Cor  11.30

26  Instancing only church “office” as diakonia in E. Schweizer, Church Order in the New Testament (Engl. trans., London: SCM, 1961), Section 21. 27  Matt 11:25: Strom. 7.7.41; Mark 10:45: Paed. 1.9.85; Acts   6:2: Paed. 2.7.56; Acts  14:14: Strom. 5.10.63; 1 Cor  3:8: Strom. 3.12.80; 1 Cor  3:6–8: Strom. 1.1.7; 3.12.79; 3.12.80; 1 Cor  3:9: Strom. 1.1.7; 1 Cor  9:5: Strom. 3.6.53; 2 Cor  3:7: Exc. 3.58.1; 2 Cor  6:4: Strom. 1.1.4; Eph  4:11: Strom. 1.1.13; 4.21.132; Eph  6:10–12: Quis div. 29.4.5; 1 Thess 4:17: Strom. 6.13.107; 1 Tim  3:4: Strom. 3.12.79; 1 Tim  3:11: Strom. 3.6.53; Heb 1:1: Strom. 5.6.35. 28  Strom. 5.10.63; similarly, Strom. 3.12.80; 6.17.157; the same element of mission in the often misunderstood idiom εἰς διακονίαν at Exc. 1.24.1. 29  Strom. 6.17.157. 30 Collins, Diakonia, 201–2.

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8. Disciple Agents in the Model of the Teacher Clement’s most explicit expression of agency is in his phrase διάκονος […] τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ βουλήσεως:31 the individual is διάκονος only in so far as she or he acts in conformity with the mandate of the higher authority, in this case, the will of the deity itself. In this instance, as explained, Clement is not writing of deacons in the church of his day but is asserting that any Christian persons conducting their lives “according to God’s will” are recognised in the heavenly court as living according to the diakonic ideal set for deacons within the church on earth. This ideal had been embodied for Christians in Christ himself; Clement writes: my children, our Instructor [Jesus] is like His Father God, whose son he is […] God in the form of man, stainless, the minister of His Father’s will (πατρικῷ θελήματι διάκονος).32

Whether as “Instructor” – the “paedagogus” in the title of the book just cited – or as “Saviour,” the Christ functions for Clement as “God’s διάκονος.”33 Indeed, this διάκονος would not have descended from on high if people had not been living in ignorance.34 Clement notes as well that “the followers of Basilides” similarly thought of the dove descending at the baptism of Jesus as the Father’s διάκονος.35 In addition, Clement uses the terminology in treating of the conduct of life according to the teachings of the Master. The Christian is assured of protection from extraterrestial forces – from “principalities and powers” (see Eph  6:10–12) – because Christ reduced these to the status of διάκονοι for his disciples.36 Life decisions regarding marriage or celibacy are to be decided in the light of which lifestyle is the mandate (διακονία) from the Lord.37 Moreover, in conjunction with God’s inspiration, the church’s ministers will work towards directing well-disposed individuals to carry out their sacred duties (διακονίας). So rich are the gifts of “divine χάρις/benevolence” that Christians are summoned to spread this among their neighbours. They are to be διάκονοι of goodness.38 In naming Christians here as διάκονοι χάριτος, we are not to think in terms of the dominant contemporary understanding of Diakonie as “a service of love/χάριτος.” Clement is very clear about what Christian “διάκονοι of good-

31 

Strom. 6.13.106. Paed. 1.2.4. 33  Paed. 1.2.4; similarly 3.1.2. 34  Strom. 2.8.38; in this passage also “minister [of religion]” (generic) involved in baptism and preaching. 35  Exc. 1.16.1. 36  Quis div. 29.4.5. 37  Strom. 3.12.79; the same usage follows twice at section 80. 38  Strom. 2.18.96. 32 

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ness” are to do; he is not urging the Christian to do acts of service but to perform with a strong ethic: we, becoming ministers of the divine grace (διακόνους γενομένους τῆς θείας χάριτος), ought to sow the benefits of God […] the temperate man may make others steadfast, he that is manly may make them courageous, he that is wise may make them prudent, and the just may make them just.39

In identifying the helping of the poor as the Christian’s highest diakonia, Cle­ ment uses the term διακονία within the same semantic area of “task,” “duty.”40

9. Standard Greek Idiom As in ancient Greek generally, Clement also draws on the διακον- terms to express various other facets of agency. Thus the human father is agent (διάκονος) of procreation,41 and body parts exist for this purpose (εἰς διακονίαν);42 our intellectual powers are agents (διάκονοι) of our will power: they function according to the commands of the will;43 a study curriculum does not itself provide instruction but functions (διακονῆσαι) for the purpose it is designed for. Not every task/διακονία is easy, however,44 because desire can be transformed (διακονουμένη) into indulgence.45 Our deeds are good, nonetheless, when done at God’s behest,46 and good Christians should follow Jesus (Matt 11:25) in thanking God for having accepted and carried out their duty/διακονία.47 The lamp “delivering” its light48 attracts the same verb διακονεῖν that Cle­ment uses of Paul “delivering” information,49 the same also that Paul himself uses for “delivering” a letter to the heart of the Corinthians (2 Cor  3:3) as well as the money that he was to “deliver” to Jerusalem (2 Cor  8:19,20). Similarly milk for an infant “provides” or “supplies” the two types of food that sustain adult life (viz., drink and meat).50 Clement reports insults also being delivered as by a διάκονος, at the command of drunkenness;51 on the other hand, self-motivation 39  Strom. 2.18.96. New Advent translation online (italicised adjectives altered); similarly Quis div. 35.2.2. 40  Paed. 3.10.49. 41  Strom. 3.12.87; 6.16.147. 42  Paed. 2.10.87. 43  Strom. 2.17.77. 44  Strom. 1.1.14. 45  Strom. 3.5.41. 46  Quis div. 35.2.4. 47  Strom. 7.7.41. 48  Paed. 2.3.37. 49  Strom. 4.15.97. 50  Paed. 1.6.45. 51  Paed. 2.7.53.

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is the agent/διάκονος of temperance.52 Many διάκονοι function in the business of prostitution;53 its clients are διάκονοι of adultery.54 Service at tables is also represented occasionally, one point of interest being Martha’s distress at not hearing the Lord’s words because she was working alone waiting upon the guest, this activity being expressed adverbially, διακονικῶς (but see Luke 10:40), a modifier that in this sentence can have reference only to the activity of waiting at table, thus excluding reference to involvement in pastoral responsibilities.55 Of particular interest is Clement’s explanation of why Mark employs this verb when recording that angels “were ministering” (διηκόνουν) to Jesus after his fast (1:13): knowing the customary use of this verb in accounts of formal dining, Clement commented that the angels ministered to Jesus “as if he were already a real king.”56 The terms occur also in incidental reference to service at elaborate banquets.57

10. Conclusion: A Legacy from Clement? If we move on from considering cultural and semantic factors in Clement’s use of διακον- words, we can draw attention to information Clement imparts about what we previously called ecclesial διάκονοι, namely, those of our contemporary churches. Or are our contemporary deacons modelled on a different precedent? Has Clement ever stood out as an authoritative commentator on the nature and function of deacons for today’s churches?58 As suggested earlier, Clement sought to cultivate an appreciation of the Christian experience as a sublime and timely enrichment of an ages-old and already fully-functional Greek culture. In the late second century C.E., propaganda in support of ethical lifestyles was a competitive preoccupation among Stoics, Pythagoreans, Epicureans, Neo-Platonists, all of them within the mix of a god-consumer clientele, some of whose favourites were magic men and medical quacks with occasional troupers who entertained the non-committed with their exposés of the duds, their mocking of unlikely claims, and with their

52 

Paed. 3.6.35; similarly 1.10.46. Paed. 3.4.28. 54  Paed. 3.4.29; cf 3.4.26 (eunuchs). 55  Quis div. 10.6.2. An understanding of a pastoral reference here is often invoked as evidencing women’s participation in the early Christian ministry/διακονία of the word, following Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (Engl. trans.; London: SCM, 1983), 164–65. 56  Exc. 4.85.2. 57  Paed. 2.1.11; 2.3.35. 58  Clement receives scant attention, for example, in Herbert Krimm, Quellen zur Geschich­ te der Diakonie: Vol. 1 (Stuttgart: Evangelisches Verlagswerk, 1960). 53 

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laughter and easy scepticism. Lucian of Samosata has left us a lively sense of the fragility of cultural prospects among those who flocked to his readings. Clement was not one to be easily undermined by philosophers or distracted by the likes of a Lucian. He was less drawn to argumentation about the values he held than to opening those values to all: particularly to “the one unity of faith” with the Jews,59 but very much more of course to those who had come to faith through baptism. These would appeciate what he had to offer from his own profound experience of faith. Faith was Platonic in its dimensions and captivating in its intensity and clarity. Someone’s “luminous intimate ministry/ διακονία” had given human words to “the Lord’s voice, the Word, from above.”60 And this voice had reached what he called “the synagogue of the church: ἐπὶ τὴν συναγωγὴν τῆς ὲκκλησίας.”61 Where did such “luminous ministry” operate within the church? For Clement, this was within the prime responsibility of the local presbyters/πρεσβύτεροι. He identifies their task as “the betterment/βελτιωτική” of the congregation.62 Interestingly, at this point we have one sole indication from Clement of where deacons might fit pastorally. The “betterment” Clement has in mind is primarily the outcome of ministering towards an opening into faith, and this is the task of presbyters. But here Clement identifies something within the deacon’s role. He calls this ὑπερετική ὼφέλεια, and I think we might understand the phrase as meaning “assistance in an official capacity.” 63 I express Clement’s meaning in this way because υπερετ- terms are standard terms for the activities of middle-ranking civil servants. 64 What this might bring to mind within a pastoral perspective during Clement’s era, I hesitate to suggest. It was certainly not going to be re-arranging deck chairs. In my own earlier reflections on the modern deacon, I suggested pastoral engagement within the wide field of faith and love. 65 Some of us should take note of Clement’s brief comment on the value of the women deacons. In the first place, Clement had no difficulty in acknowledging their existence in churches of his day. He called them simply διάκονοι γυναῖκες / “deacon women.” Like some other Greek words, διἀκονος has no feminine form, and to make his meaning clear he simply added γυναῖκες, “women.”66 When Paul includes women among his own “co-workers/συνεργοί” (Phil  4:2–3), Clement does not hesitate to name them Paul’s συνδιάκονοι. 67 This is not, however, in the ecclesial sense of “co-deacon” but in the sense of the “co-apostolic 59 

Strom. 6.13.107. Strom. 6.3.34. 61  Strom. 6.3.34. 62  Strom. 7.1.3. 63  Strom. 7.1.3. 64  See references to discussion of this usage in the index of Collins, Diakonia, 362. 65 Collins, Deacons and the Church, 137–38. 66  Strom. 3.6.53. 67  Strom. 3.6.53. 60 

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διάκονος,” like Tychicus at Eph  6:21 and Col  4:7. 68 Nonetheless, Clement does enlarge a little on the nature of the women’s pastoral engagement. In his words, by force of the “deacon women,” “the Lord’s teaching (διδασκαλία) penetrated into the women’s quarters.”69 Deacons, whether women or men, in the churches of Clement’s day stood at the peak of the church’s engagement with God’s Word. In his opinion – and he calls it simply his “opinion” – “the grades […] of bishops, presbyters, deacons are imitations of the angelic glory.”70 This may not appeal to us much today, and we may have little to learn from Clement’s further speculation that the deceased “apostle,” upon reception into glory, will rise through the heavenly ranks to a rightful place through first fulfilling the deacon’s role.71 Surely this illustrates an early ecclesiological interest in what later emerged as a cursus honorum. No doubt we now realise that Clement provides an incomplete report on deacons of his day. The quality of what he expects of them, however, remains a challenge in our day. He expected nothing less than a life lived according to the Gospel: Those […] who have exercised themselves in the Lord’s commandments, and lived perfectly and gnostically according to the Gospel, may be enrolled in the chosen body of the apostles. Such an one is in reality a presbyter of the Church, and a true minister (διάκονος) of the will of God.72

In other words, today’s deacon needs to be a good “gnostic.” What pastoral role deacons fill is, I believe, for the church to determine, but the “church” needs to be both the congregation and its leaders. Earlier I mentioned faith and love as their field of ministry, and recently was pleased to read in Luther’s seventh Invocavit sermon of 1522: I have preached to you for so long and, in almost all my books, have preached nothing but faith and love […].73

A final comment of a more general kind seems appropriate. Clement wrote as a man of his time profoundly imbued with its rich culture. Perhaps our churches would benefit if, in addition to searching for precedent in the pastoral ministry of deacons, we looked within to our own multiple cultural resources. By the light of the faith we bring to this task – a faith shining perhaps with the brightness Clement stood in awe of – we might discern how to fit our churches with effective working parts for diaconal ministry in our time. 68 

See the variant at 1 Thess 3:2: διάκονος or συνεργός discussed in Collins, Diakonia, 104, 223. Strom. 3.6.53, with translation from New Advent online. 70  Strom. 6.13.107. 71  Strom. 6.13.107. 72  Strom. 6.13.106. 73 Cited in Gert Haendler, Luther on Ministerial Office and Congregational Function (Engl. trans.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981), 52. 69 

Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Understanding the Two-fold Ministry of Ἐπισκόποι and Διάκονοι according to First Clement (1 Clem.  42:5) Bart J. Koet

One of the most interesting aspects of 1 Clement, a letter from the ἐκκλησία of Rome to that of Corinth, is its use of Jewish traditions as examples for its audience. In 1 Clem.  42:5, Clement refers to Scripture: “For the Scripture says somewhere: I will raise their ἐπίσκοποι in righteousness and their διάκονοι in ‘faith/ trust.’”1 Scholars often identify this as a quotation from Isa 60:17. However, there are quite a few differences between Isa 60:17 and the text quoted here. The 1  1 Clem.  42:5: καὶ τοῦτο οὐ καινῶς ἐκ γὰρ δὴ πολλῶν χρόνων ἐγέγραπτο περὶ ἐπισκόπων καὶ διακόνων οὕτως γάρ που λέγει ἡ γραφή Καταστήσω τοὺς ἐπισκόπους αὐτῶν ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ καὶ τοὺς διακόνους αὐτῶν ἐν πίστει. In what follows we shall leave both words (episkopoi and diakonoi) for the most part untranslated and use transcribed forms. Translating ἐπισκόποι with bishops seems to be anachronistic, although translating “overseer” would lose the connection, which does exist, with the later concept of bishops. In this article we cannot deal with this element. In recent decades the word διακονία has often been seen as synonymous with lowly service either within the church or expressed more broadly towards the needy in society. However, important philological research has been undertaken on the word διάκονια and related expressions in classical Greek and the Greek of the New Testament (=NT) to falsify this assumption: see John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990) and Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien zur Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007). See also my “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts  6 ,1–7: a Lucan Diptych on Diakonia,” in Studies on the Greek Bible (eds. Jeremy Corley and Vincent Skemp; FS Francis T Gignac: Washington DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 2008), 163–85 and my “Like a Royal Wedding: On the Significance of diakonos in John 2,1–11,” in Diakonia, Diaconiae Diaconato: Semantica e storia nei Padri della Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9 maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Roma: Augustinianum, 2010), 39–52. Both articles are reprinted in this volume. The most important author in this debate is Collins. Through meticulous research into the meaning of the diakon-clusters in ancient literature, he showed the extent to which the “Christian” Greek of the NT differs from common early usage. Collins concludes that the diakon-terms were not used specifically to express a notion of loving and caring service and that the Greek diakon-terms were “floaters.” Often diakon-words designate the carrying out of orders and the performance of deeds. Central notions expressed by διάκονια might cluster around notions of “mediation, intercession, agency, and mission in the name of a principal.” Thus the notion of “mandate” can be prominent. I will also not translate presbuteroi and ekklesia.

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question arises as to this reference: is it really a quotation? Another question is why Clement introduces in this allusion – in quite an unexpected way – a reference to diakonoi.2 The aim of this article is to investigate the manner in which 1 Clem.  40–44 uses OT material, especially Isa 60:17, as a model for episkopoi and diakonoi and, in addition, as a basis for understanding the relationship between the two functionaries.3 In order to deal with these questions we will start with situating the reference in the context of the whole letter as well as in the immediate context.

1. First Clement as a Letter Van Unnik has described how the famous Church historian Adolf von Harnack said farewell to university teaching in July 1929 in Berlin. There were two speeches: one by a senior student and one by the professor himself. The senior student happened to become one of the most famous Christians of the twentieth century: Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the theologian and martyr. Von Harnack dedicated the last session of his seminar to First Clement, because he argued that this book was the most important document for insights into the history of the Church.4 First Clement is the name of a quite extensive epistle, written in the name of the ecclesia of Rome to the one in Corinth. Eusebius in Hist. Eccl. (iii. 16) summarises the reason for the epistle as follows: “There is one acknowledged epistle of this Clement great and admirable, which he wrote in the name of the church of Rome to the church at Corinth, sedition having then arisen in the latter church.” 2  The relationship between the ministries as depicted in our text and the later forms of ministries in the early church is beyond the reach of this chapter, which focuses on the text of 1 Clement itself. For a study of the development of the ministries and especially of sequential ordination, see John St. H. Gibaut, The Cursus Honorum: A Study and Evolution of Sequential Ordination (New York: Peter Lang, 2000). See now also the collected articles of Alexandre Faivre, Chrétiens et Églises des identities en construction: Acteurs, structures, frontiéres du champ religieux chrétien (Paris: Cerf, 2011). 3  How is it possible that episkopoi already in the community of Corinth became the more important (liturgical) leaders? In this context I cannot investigate any further the sociological connotations of episkopoi in Greco-Roman context, but for the reasons of this instutionalisation, see Harry O. Maier, The Social Setting of the Ministry as Reflected in the Writings of Hermas, Clement and Ignatius (Waterloo, Ontario, 1991). 4  Wilhelm C. van Unnik, Studies over de zogenaamde eerste brief van Clemens I: Het litteraire genre (Amsterdam: Noord-Hollandsche Uitgevers Maatschappij, 1970), 151. Now published as “Studies on the So-called First Epistle of Clement: The Literary Genre,” in Encounters with Hellenism: Studies on the First Letter of Clement (eds. Cilliers Breytenbach and Laurence L. Welborn; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 115–81, here 115. See in the same volume: Adolf von Harnack, “Einführung in die Alte Kirchengeschichte: Das Schreiben der römischen Gemeinde an die korinthische aus der Zeit Domitians (I. Clemensbrief),” 1–103 = id (Leipzig, 1929). Here I quote from the edition of 2004.

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This sedition focuses on certain problems in Corinth. In 1:1, the situation is typified as a stasis, a rising. In language sometimes reminiscent of Pauline themes, Clement describes in the beginning of this letter (1:2–3:1) how the community of Corinth walked in the laws of God (1:3) and thus how it flourished.5 According to Clement, in contrast with this recent past, the present time is characterised instead by a whole series of vices like jealousy, envy, and strife (3:3). Although in the beginning of his epistle Clement6 is vague about how these vices expressed themselves concretely, we soon read indications through phrases about “the worthless” rising against “those in honour,” “those of no reputation” against “the renowned,” “the foolish” against “the prudent” and “the young” against “the old” (presbuteroi). But the specific problem is not disclosed until 44:6: “some presbuteroi who have fulfilled their leitourgia 7 blamelessly have been removed” (see also 44:3 and 47:6). Elsewhere there are hints of a kind of power struggle in Corinth. In 45:1, Clement refers to the quarrels in Corinth as mentioned in 1 Cor  1–4, while in 54:2 there is a reference to some tensions between the presbuteroi and the people. He exhorts possible instigators of the sedition, strife, or schism to go into (self-) exile (the famous “Auswanderungsrat”).8 Like Paul did in his letters to the Corinthians, the author of 1 Clement deals with this problematic situation by writing a letter. What was the aim of this letter and what was the strategy followed by its author? It is Van Unnik who shows that one can detect a rhetorical strategy in this letter.9 As in quite a few of his articles, he first focuses on key words. Clement uses ὁμόνοια and εἰρήνη as a usual formula indicating welfare and happiness of a state or of a community.10 Especially on the basis of this formula and on the use of the word συμβουλή in 58:2, Van Unnik argues that the literary genre of First Clement can be understood as being of the genos sumbouleutikon, in Latin the genus deliberativum.11 It indicates that the aim of the letter was to give advice. 5 Compare the introduction of 1 Corinthians (1 Cor   1:1–3) with the introduction of 1 Clement. In both texts the community is addressed as “called saints.” For the relation between 1 and 2 Corinthians and 1 Clement, see D.G. Horrell, The Social Ethos of the Corinthian Correspondence: Interests and Ideology from 1 Corinthians to 1 Clement (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996). 6  Although the prescript states that the letter is written by the ekklesia of Rome, Dionysius of Corinth (see Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. IV 23:10) refers to Clement as the author. For convenience’s sake, we will follow this tradition. 7  Leitourgia: “public service,” “public service of the Gods,” from λήϊτος “public” + ἔργον “work.” 8  Paul Mikat, “Der ‘Auswanderungsrat‘ (1 Clem.  5 4:2) als Schlüssel zum Gemeindeverständnis im I Clemensbrief,” in Bonner Festgabe Johannes Straub zum 65. Geburtstag (eds. Adolf Lippold and Nikolaus P. Himmelman; Bonn, 1977), 213–23. 9  Van Unnik, “Epistle of Clement,” 151–63. 10  Van Unnik, “Epistle of Clement,” 146–51. 11  Aristotle was one of the first scholars to develop a rhetorical approach to genre. He divided the art of rhetoric into three genres: deliberative, forensic, and epideictic.

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O. M. Bakke supported Van Unnik’s assessment of 1 Clement. One can find most of the main characteristics of the genus deliberativum in 1 Clement.12 Deliberative rhetoric is hortatory or dissuasive and in 1 Clement this is reflected, for example, in the abundant use of hortatory subjunctives (see, for example, 7:2; 9:1; 13:1; 28:2). In deliberative rhetorical texts, the future is the main time reference, and in 1 Clement this is manifested by the comparative frequency of imperatives. According to Bakke, in a deliberative rhetorical context there is a certain standard set of appeals, among which appeals to advantage or warnings of danger were fundamental. One can find in 1 Clement warnings like those against incurring great danger (14:2, see 41:4 and 51:9).13 As a last point Bakke signals that in a deliberative context proof by example is characteristic.14 Van Unnik also mentioned this. Again and again Clement adduces examples, quite a number taken from the OT. In his discussion about ζῆλος, for example, he refers to Cain and Abel, to Jacob and Esau, to Joseph and his brothers, to Moses and his fellow countryman, to Aaron and Miriam, to Dathan and Abiram, and to David and Saul (1 Clem.  4). He refers not only to the OT, but also to recent examples like Peter and Paul (1 Clem.  5; see Gal  2:9). The lengthy first part of 1 Clement ends with an extended quote from Job (mostly from 4:16–5:5; see 1 Clem.  39:2–9). By using these examples of the past and references to ancient texts, Clement shares with his audience moral examples from the past and prepares them for the arguments he is going to use, when dealing with the reason of the turmoil in Corinth.

2. The Structure of First Clement and the Place of 1 Clem.  40–44 within It In 40:1, Clement makes the transition to the specific problem of disharmony in Corinth’s ekklesia.15 The beginning of this part of the letter is often discussed in scholarly literature especially because of its content: a deliberation about the structure of the church.16 However, what exactly is the size of the relevant passage and its place in the letter? 12  Odd M. Bakke, “Concord and Peace.” A Rhetorical Analysis of the First Letter of Clement with an Emphasis on the Language of Unity and Sedition (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 33–62, for a summary, see 320–21. For the examples of hortatory subjunctives, see 35–36. For 1 Clement as belonging to the genus deliberativum, see Barbara E. Bowe, A Church in Crisis: Ecclesiology and Paraenesis in Clement of Rome (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1988), especially 33–74. 13 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 38–54. 14 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 57–61. 15 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 184. 16  Horacia E. Lona, Der erste Korintherbrief (Kommentar zu den Apostolischen Vätern

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Scholars often argue that 1 Clement consists of two parts, which are connected, but at the same time are recognisable as independent units. In his commentary, Lona sees Chapters 1–39 (including the prescript) as the first part and 40– 65 (including the postscript in 65:1–2) as the second one.17 He argues that the first part is quite an extended argumentation, describing the causes of the division and adducing a number of comparable examples from the past. In his compositional analysis of 1 Clement, Bakke sees 4:1–39:9 as the thesis/ quaestio infinita or quaestio generalis.18 According to him, in this section Clement exhorts his audience to certain virtues and behaviour, which secures concord, and warns against vices and behaviour that leads to sedition. This involves an abstract, theoretical, general approach to the question of concord.19 The second part, 40:1–61:3, is described as the upothesis, the quaestio finita, or quaestio particularis, which gives a concrete, non-theoretical, practical treatment of a problem.20 Thus, Bakke sees the connection between the first part of 1 Clement and the second as between a theoretical discourse and its practical application.21 This concurs to a certain extent with Lona’s observations. He argues that while the first part of 1 Clement is a large-scale demonstration, it is in 40:1 that Clement starts to deal with the concrete problem.22 Although in 40:1 there is a new beginning, we have to look whether there is a smaller unity within this second part of the letter. Lona sees 40:1–44 as the unity, dealing with the concrete controversy in Corinth, but argues at the same time that Chapter 45 belongs to it, because the whole section is closed in 45:7–8 with a doxology.23 Bakke sees 40:1–43:6 as a unity, followed by the unity 44:1–47:7.24 According to him, in 40:1–43:6 the theme is “order among the people of God according to the will of God.” In the first half of this section (40:1–41:4), the cult of the Temple is introduced as an example, while in the second half Clement focuses upon the order in the apostolic times and post-apostolic times (42:1–43:6). Bakke argues that after demonstrating that an order presupposing an appointed leadership according to God’s will, Clement turns more explicitly to the situation in Corinth in 44:1–47:7. Bakke summarises this passage in the phrase: “Clement II; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 426: “Es handelt um den Abschritt des Briefes, der wegen seiner Aussagen zur kirchlichen Verfassung am meisten die Aufmerksamkeit der Forschung auf zich gezogen hat.” 17 Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 24–30. 18  See Bakke, Concord and Peace, for example, 155 and 232. 19  See Bakke, Concord and Peace, 232. 20  See Bakke, Concord and Peace, 155 and 232. 21 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 211–12. 22 Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 426. 23 Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 426–27. 24 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 259–61; and see the table of the composition of the letter on 275–77.

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blames the Corinthians for the present state of affairs.”25 According to Bakke, it is in Chapter 44 that Clement comes to the point: the apostles knew (through the Lord Jesus Christ) that there would be strife (ἒρις) over “the name of bishop” (44:1).26 Thus, the apostles appointed bishops and deacons and arranged that after their death other approved men should succeed to their λειτουργία (44:2). According to Clement, the apostolic origin and succession is legitimating the position of those successors and, consequently, no one is free to remove from their service those who were installed by the apostles or their successors and with the approval of the whole ekklesia (44:3). But such a development is exactly what happened in Corinth. This becomes clear from 44:3.6, where the most concrete description of the issue at stake can be found: the Corinthians have removed some men in office in spite of their good service. Bakke sees 45:1 as a transition to a new sub-text. Although Lona is correct in recognizing a formal ending at 45:8 and a new beginning at 46:1, in this article we are reading 1 Clem.  40–44 as a relatively independent part of the letter and as the context of the reference to Isaiah. While the address ἀδελφοί at 45:1 indicates a new beginning, our main contention is that the prevailing subject matter throughout 1 Clem.  40–44 is the different forms of ministry in the OT as well as in Christianity and that this serves to introduce the first explicit statement of the concrete problem at Corinth in 44:3–6.

3. Isa 60:17 in 1 Clem.  42:5 Thus, in 1 Clem.  40:1 there is a new beginning. Because Clement and his audience have looked into the depths of the divine knowledge (as translated by Kirsopp Lake), he opens the discussion with a statement: “We ought to do in order all things which the Master commanded us to perform at appointed times.” In the following Clement discusses the order of Israel’s society as a model for the Christians in Corinth. In Chapters 40–41 the commandments of “the Master” regarding sacrifices and services are discussed for Israel (40) and for the Christian community (41). Firstly, he describes the order of Israel: the appointed times for sacrifices (40:2) and the places and the persons involved (40:3). The focus is on the order of the persons and in 40:5 he mentions four ranks: High Priest, the priests, the Levites, and the layman (here λαϊκός). He stresses that it is the Master (ὁ δεσπότης !) who imposed this order (40:1.2.3.4; 41:3).27 The word “order” may be the catchword of this section: “Let each one of us, brothers, be well pleasing to God in his own 25 Bakke,

Concord and Peace, 261–64, for the quote 261. Concord and Peace, 261. 27  When referring to God, in his own text Clement uses normally δεσπότης. See Annie Jaubert, Clément de Rome. Ėpître aux Corinthiens (Paris: Cerf, 1971), here 66–67 n.  4. This 26 Bakke,

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τάγμα (“order,” “rank”; 41:1).28 In Chapter 41, Clement starts to apply these regulations to the community of Corinth and uses the sacrifices in the Temple of Jerusalem (41:2–4) as examples. This application is joined with quite a severe warning. In Chapter 42, Clement continues the discussion about the subject of “order” by turning to the divine order of the Christian community rooted in the divine origin of Jesus Christ and in the mission of the apostles as given to them by Jesus the Christ (42:1–2) and by sketching the origin of the ministries of episkopoi and diakonoi in their appointment by the apostles (42:4). The relation between Christ and the Apostles is the argument for the divine origin of the episkopoi and the diakonoi. In 42:5 he uses Isa 60:17 as a model for bishops and deacons. In Chapter 43, he uses the narrative of the divine choice of the tribe of Aaron for Israel’s priesthood (Num 17) as the mirror image of the problems in Corinth. In Chapter 44 he applies this story to the quarrels about the name of the episcopate and finally tells his audience about the removal of presbuteroi in Corinth.29 It is in this context that Clement stresses that – although the apostles when they preach from city to city appoint their first converts as episkopoi and diakonoi, these ministries are not a new phenomenon (42:5). He can say this, he claims, because this pair has been recorded in writings for many years. With a formal introductory phrase (“for the Scripture says thus somewhere”) Clement alludes to a passage which seems to have its origin in Isa 60 as the biblical root of these two ministries. Before dealing with the question of whether this is a citation or not, we will turn to the text of Isaiah. Isa 60 is part of the third section of Isaiah, Isa 56–66, a section nowadays often called Trito-Isaiah. Isa 60–62 is often seen as the kernel of the whole section.30 The theme of these chapters is an announcement of salvation directed to Jerusalem. According to Beuken, Isa 60 itself consists of three sections: 60:1–9 (YHWH in Zion); 60:10–16 (the reversal of the fate of Zion); 60:17–20 (Zion as a new creation).

concurs with the Jewish usage to avoid the name of God. In the later books of the LXX like Wisdom, Sirach and Daniel, one can find δεσπότης as referring to God. 28 According to Jaubert (“Themès Lévitiques dans la Prima Clementis,” VC 18 [1964]: 193–203) the stress on “order” concurs with the principles of post-biblical levitical or sacerdotal circles. She refers, for example, to 1 Esd 1:15 (LXX), Aristeas 92–95, and to some texts from Qumran. 29  For this passage, see W. Moriarty, “1 Clement’s View of Ministerial Appointments in the Early Church,” VC 66 (2012): 115–38. 30  Willem A.M. Beuken, Jesaja (Nijkerk: Callenbach, 1989), 157–8: see id., “The Main Theme of Trito-Isaiah: The Servants of YHWH,” JSOT 47 (1990): 67–87.

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According to Isaiah, Jerusalem will be a light, attracting the (other) nations and (their) kings. While in the past the kings of other nations have devastated Jerusalem, now they will rebuild the gates, which at the same time are no longer necessary and will be left open (60:11). In the last section the prophet describes how the Lord transforms the city into a better place: instead of bronze, God will bring gold to Zion; instead of iron, silver.31 In the Hebrew text it is in this context that the Lord promises a new time of justice in the future: “I shall make Peace your overseer and Righteousness your governors” (60:17b; my translation).32 As argued by Beuken, the abstract concepts of “Peace” and “Righteousness” are personified and they express the idea that there will be a new constellation.33 He suggests that when Peace and Righteousness rule, there will be no need for authorities. This seems to be Utopia: no rulers and no quarrels. The text of this passage in the LXX is less utopian. This translation introduces leading figures instead of abstract concepts: καὶ δώσω τοὺς ἄρχοντάς σου ἐν εἰρήνῃ καὶ τοὺς ἐπισκόπους σου ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ. “And I will appoint your rulers in peace and your overseers in righteousness” (NETS). The Greek word ἄρχων is not uncommon in the LXX. It is “upper class.” Again and again archontes are mentioned right after the king (see, for example, Neh 9:32; Est 1:16; Zeph 1:8; Jer 24:1; Jer 41:21; Bar 1:9; 2 Chr 29:20) or in connection with the chief-general or they are the leaders of a city. The Greek word ἐπίσκοπος used for the second group is infrequent in the LXX (14x). Those so designated do have an important function, but this is comparable to that of police or inspectors (see 1 Macc 1:51; see Num 4:16).34 In the LXX, the vision of total peace and righteousness in a future Zion is transformed into the vision of a peaceful reign of the rulers and of righteous overseers. A certain hierarchy is perhaps discernible here: the first group seems to be the more important one and thus those functionaries are guaranteeing the overall peace, while the second group seems to be responsible for overseeing the process of righteousness. In the literature, it is a commonplace to refer to Isa 60:17 as the source of the reference to Scripture in 1 Clem.  42:5. However, regarding the form and the content of this reference, it is hardly possible to identify it as a formal quotation. As noted by most of the commentators the allusion is far from literal. For a formal quotation one needs an introductory formula or a verbatim quotation and pref31 

Rev 21:22–27 refers extensively to the vision of peace as depicted by Isaiah 60. is clear from the different translations that 60:17b is not so easy to translate: ‫ אגנ‬can refer to driving a flock (Num 15:2) but also to oppressing Israel (Isa 3:5) or a person (the servant of the Lord: Isa 53:7) or even one’s soul (Isa 58:3). 33 Beuken, Jesaja, IIIA, 181. 34  Ἐπίσκοπος in Josephus, two times: Ant. 10,53, 187: episkopoi together with kritai as the task to care for the interests of everyone; In 12, 254 episkopoi are a kind of “policeman” who have to oversee that the orders of king Antiochus (for example, the defense to circumcise) were followed by the Jews. 32  It

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erably both. Authors of the NT and in the early church used these formal criteria to mark scriptural citations as a matter of course.35 Here, the introductory formula is somewhat ambigious. Clement says, “the Scripture says somewhere (που).” While he appears to quote and thus to be – to a certain extent – precise, he leaves the source of his biblical argument open.36 The ambiguity of the introductory formula concurs with the fact that the reference is not verbatim.37 Evans lists five differences between the LXX and the phrase in 1 Clement: 1) καταστήσω instead of δώσω; 2) the two clauses are reversed; 3) διακονοι instead of ἂρχοντες; 4) “in faith” instead of “in peace”; and 5) Clement uses the third person plural, while the LXX uses the second person singular for the functions.38 At the same time, the similarities are such as to allow us to assume that Isa 60:17 is the source of 1 Clement.39 The most important is that they have in common the phrase τοὺς ἐπισκόπους αὐτῶν ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ. However, how is it possible that the author adduces such a reference in his letter? And why should he do it? A possible answer to the first question is that Clement, in writing about Christian ministry, will understandably have made an immediate association with the Isaiah-text: the word episkopoi is the link between the source text and the “receiving” one.40 Another reason for making the connection with Isaiah could be that the Isaianic text mentions a two-fold leadership. Moreover, the leadership structure is the same in each case: leaders and their assistants. In the LXX, the episkopoi are the assistants of the archontes, while in 1 Clement the diakonoi are the assistants of the episkopoi. Hagner typifies the reference as a quotation but notes that a number of words have been altered and the lines transposed. He tries to explain 35  Maarten J.J. Menken, Matthew’s Bible: The Old Testament Text of the Evangelist (Leuven: Peeters, 2004), 1, distinguishes two types of quotations from the OT: Marked quotations which are more or less verbatim, and thus recognizable borrowings and which are introduced (or concluded) by a formula, that makes it clear that these words in question come from Scripture. Unmarked quotations: more or less verbatim borrowings without a citation formula. For a discussion about the differences between quotations, allusions, and echoes, see Steve Moyise, The Old Testament in the New: An Introduction (London: Continuum, 2001), 5–6. 36  Also elsewhere in 1 Clement the author uses an introductory formula with που to introduce a non-verbatim reference to or a paraphrase of Scripture: 15:2 and 21:2. In 28:2 it introduces a reference to Ps  138:7–10, which is closer to the Hebrew than to the LXX, while in 26:2 it refers to an unknown source. See Heb  2:6–8 and 4:4, where the author uses που to introduce a more verbatim quotation. 37 Ireneaus, Haer. IV, 26:5, also uses Isa 60:17. His quote is closer to the Isaiah text and he uses it to depict the presbuteroi of the ekklesia and thus sees presbuteroi and episkopoi as synonyms. There is no trace of a reference to diakonoi. 38  Craig A. Evans, “The Citation of Isaiah 60:17 in 1 Clement,” VC 36 (1982): 105–7, here 105. 39  See Isa 60:17 (LXX): καὶ ἀντὶ χαλκοῦ οἴσω σοι χρυσίον ἀντὶ δὲ σιδήρου οἴσω σοι ἀργύριον ἀντὶ δὲ ξύλων οἴσω σοι χαλκόν ἀντὶ δὲ λίθων σίδηρον καὶ δώσω τοὺς ἄρχοντάς σου ἐν εἰρήνῃ καὶ τοὺς ἐπισκόπους σου ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ. 40  It is not impossible that for Clement the combination between episkopoi and δικαιοσύνῃ was attractive. The last concept was dear to him: he uses this word thirteen times.

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the differences between the reference in 1 Clem.  42:5 and the text of Isa 60:17 (LXX). He suggests that the variant διάκονος is probably introduced by Clement, because it is important for his argument. According to Hagner it is also possible that he simply quoted from memory and mistakenly remembered τους διακονους for τους ἀρχοντας.41 However, it could be that there is more strategy involved than Hagner thinks. In Isa 60:17 LXX, there is two-fold leadership involved, with a difference in level between the different categories of leaders. The archontes are clearly higher, while the overseers (here episkopoi) are in charge in the name of these archontes. Also in I Clement we find a two-fold leadership with a difference in level between these different leaders. Now the episkopoi are mentioned in the first place, while their assistants are ranked in the second place. It is interesting to note that the overseers seem to be qualified to do righteousness, while the diakonoi are related to πίστις.42 This two-fold structure fits Clement’s concept of the two-fold leadership in the church as will be clear from other places where he mentions leadership models in his work. In his excursus about ministry, apostolic succession, and church law, Lona refers to three passages where Clement deals with the structure of ministry in 1 Clem.  42–44: one hears about episkopoi and diakonoi in 42:4–5, about the episcopate in 44:4, and about presbuteroi in 44:5.43 Although Lona on the one hand argues that we cannot find in 1 Clement a difference between the episkopoi and the presbuteroi, on the other hand he claims that the problem is about the removing of presbuteroi and not about removing episkopoi.44 This last remark seems to refer to 44:5–6. Is this last passage an indication that he does seem to reckon with a difference between these categories? J. Gibaut sees 44:4–5 as a strong indication that in 1 Clement the titles episkopoi and presbuteroi are interchangeable.45 He argues that in this passage the activity of the episcopate is associated with that of the presbuteroi. The parallel between 44:4 41  Donald Alfred Hagner, The Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome (Leiden: Brill, 1973), 67. 42  Collins identifies fidelity as the hallmark of a diakonos; see Are All Christians Ministers? (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1992), 48; also Collins, Diakonia, 202. For the relation between ­diakonoi and pistis, see 1 Tim  3:9. 43 Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 471–81. Lona stresses the fact that the theme of “ministry” is crucial for 1 Clement, but he argues (472) that questions around the ministry are inextricably linked with the theme of the unity of the community. 44 Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 474: “Ein Unterschied zwischen Episkopen und Presbytern ist hier nicht vorhanden und von der Argumentationsart her auch nicht zu erwarten. […] Anderseits geht es in der korinthischen Gemeinde nicht um die Absetzung von Episkopen, sondern von Presbytern.” 45 Gibaut, Cursus Honorum, 23–24. See Reinhard M. Hübner, “Die Anfänge von Diakonat, Presbyterat und Episkopat in der frühen Kirche,” in Das Priestertum in der Einen Kirche: Diakonat, Presbyterat und Episkopat (eds. Albert Rauch and Paul Imhof; Aschaffenburg: Kaffke, 1987), 45–89, here 69, and A. Lemaire, Les ministères aux origins de l’ église: Naissance de la triple hiérarchie: évêques, presbyters, diacres (Paris: Cerf, 1971), 149.

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and 44:6 strongly suggests that here there is no real difference between the episcopate and being a presbuteros: To eject from the episcopate those who have blamelessly and holily offered its sacrifices (44:4). To remove some from the leitourgia (referring to the presbuteroi of 44:5), which they have fulfilled blamelessly (44:6).46

In this context Clement does not mention diakonoi, which is in fact not a surprise, because the problem is about removing the presbuteroi/episkopoi. In his discussion of the structure of the ministry according to Clement, Lona does not refer to 1 Clem.  40:5. It seems to me that this passage in Clement’s exposition of the ministries in Israel is the first step. At first sight he seems to refer to a four-fold hierarchy. Indeed, the scheme consists here of four layers, in a pyramidal model: at the top the High Priest, who has his own λειτουργία, then he mentions the place of the priests (here Clement uses a cultic term: ἱερεύς), the next place is for the Levites with their ministries (here he uses for ministry the Greek word διακονία). And then there is the λαϊκός (the man of the λαός), who is bound to the ordinances of the λαϊκός. Clement uses this four-fold model, derived from the Jewish cult as we find it in the OT, as an example for the Christian community of Corinth. Although it is a four-layer model, the ministry discussed here is a two-fold pattern and consists of the priests and the Levites. The High Priest of the OT is the prototype of Jesus as High Priest (see 1 Clem.  61:3 and 64) and as such he is hors concours.47 Also in 1 Clem.  32:2, Clement supposes a two-fold model of cultic leadership (here also the cultic term ἱερεύς and Levites).48 In his article on the significance of the OT for the understanding of ministry in early Christianity, Dassmann argues that it is only a comparison.49 Here the word “only” is suggestive, because with the comparison there are important legitimising arguments involved. Although there are clearly differences between the ministry of Israel and that of Christianity – it seems to me that it is not by accident that Clement uses the word ἱερεύς only for ministers in Israel and Egypt – Clement takes from the example of Israel two arguments, which he applies to Christian ministry: both are a two-fold ministry and both are of 46  The theme of blamelessness of the ministers involved in the removal is already introduced in 43:3. 47  It is possible that Clement knew of the use of Jesus as High Priest in, for example, Heb 2:17; 3:1; 4:14,15; 5:5,10; 6:20; 9:1. It is well known that he knew Hebrews and used this tractate: see, for example, Hagner, Clement of Rome, 179–95, here 179. 48 I disagree with Lemaire (Ministères, 150) who argues that Clement knows only one ministry. 49  Ernst Dassmann, “Die Bedeutung des Alten Testamentes für das Verständnis des Kirchlichen Amtes in der Frühpatristischen Theologie,” in Bibel und Leben 11 (1970): 198–214, reprinted in id., Ämter und Dienste in den frühchristlichen Gemeinden (Bonn: Borengässer, 1994), 96–113, here 99. Hübner, “Anfänge,” 71, sees the connection even as a typology.

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­divine origin.50 This last observation is in fact the third reason for adducing the reference to Isaiah and at the same time it is an answer to the question of why Clement introduces the reference. Clement himself stresses that this is not a new phenomenon: because for many years before episkopoi and diakonoi had been written of (42:5). It is here that he introduces his reference, showing that the ministries of episkopoi and diakonoi are already long established. The author refers to an idea which was common in his time: only what is ancient could be of importance.51 Here, Clement prepares his audience for his defense of the removed episkopoi/presbuteroi. Referring to the fact that the two ministries already existed in Scripture legitimise, according to the author, their position in the church of Corinth. Concurring with this is Annie Jaubert’s remark about how much the author of 1 Clement values the Jewish prescriptions regarding the cult, and although he seems to know Hebrews (see 1 Clem.  36:2), he does not follow its opinion that the Jewish cult and sacrifices are out-dated.52 Clement stresses that the regulations of the Jewish cult constitute the regulations in the community of the followers of Jesus and Paul.53 There is a not a contrast between them, but, on the contrary, Clement uses the regulations to be found in Jewish traditions as illustrations for the model of followers of the Apostles. As in Israel, there has to be an order in the ecclesia. The Apostles received the Gospel from the Lord Jesus Christ, while Jesus Christ was sent from God. The apostles preached the reign of God and they appointed their “firstlings” as overseers (episkopoi) and diakonoi.54 The Jewish two-fold structure of the cultic ministry is used as a matrix, a mould or maybe a mirror for the community in Corinth. More important is Clement’s legitimisation of the order in Corinth: like the Jewish ministry, the ministry in the ekklesia is rooted in divine order and this order has the same structure.55 50 Collins, Diakonia, 238–39, rigthly stresses that the Christian ministers, like their OT examples are depicted as liturgical ministers. The diakonoi are according to him: “non-presbyteral liturgical assistants of presbyters in the presbyters’ capacity of bishop.” He adds: “Because the liturgy included a sacred meal, the deacons presumably acted as ritual waiters, but they would have done this not on a title of being waiters for the assembly but in their capacity as attendants to those responsible for the conduct of the service.” 51  For this principle, see P. Pilhofer, Presbyteron Kreitton: Der Altersbeweis der jüdischen und christlichen Apologeten und seine Vorgeschichte (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990). 52  Jaubert, “Themès Lévitiques,” 198. 53  For quite a few scholars, this is a reason to assume that the function of the ministers is in the first place cultic. Lona (Erste Korintherbrief, 472–74) uses 44:3 to show that those episkopoi/presbuteroi were not only cultic leaders. In fact, they are even depicted as shepherds, and thus as pastors. For the leaders as pastors, see also 16:1 and 54:2. 54  “Firstlings” is possibly also related to a form of ministry: see, for example, 1 Cor  16:15. Here we cannot deal with this aspect. However, H. von Camphausen already refers to this possibility: see Kirchliches Amt und geistliche Vollmacht in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 21963), 72. 55  See Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 477: “Der Kontinuität in der Weitergabe des Amtes ist

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Regarding the stress in the context on the couple of episkopoi and diakonoi in 42:4–5, it is possible that it is Clement himself who introduced this couple in the Isaiah paraphrase. He could do this because it seems that this combination was already something like a stock phrase in the early church. The fact that we can find in Clement the twofold ministry episkopoi–diakonoi concurs with the (scarce) use of this combination in comparable literature from the early church. In this context we mention them briefly in the next section.

4. Traces of Two-fold Ministry in Early Christian Literature In his note on the citation of Isa 60:17 in 1 Clement, Evans argues that Hagner can offer no explanation for the new form of the reference except to say that Clement mistakenly attributed it to Scriptures.56 Evans suggests that Acts  6:1–6, a text not considered by Hagner, could be helpful in understanding Clement’s form and the function of the quotation in its context.57 Evans gives a list of similar vocabulary in these two passages. Although he does not suggest that Clement’s quotation should be understood as a conscious paraphrase of any portion of Acts  6:1–6, he argues that the quotation of Isaiah 60 has been heavily influenced (although perhaps unconsciously) by ecclesiastical tradition concerning church offices. Because 1 Clem.  42:5 is a quotation from memory, it has been influenced by its immediate context (the discussion of the apostolic legitimacy of bishops and deacons), and the broader Christian context concerning ecclesiastical leadership. Evans does not explicitly refer to one element of Acts  6: the two-fold model of that ministry.58 The apostles install the seven as their representatives. It is this two-fold structure, which reappears on the few occasions when early Christian literature mentions the combination episkopoi and diakonoi. The first time we encounter the combination of episkopoi and diakonoi is in the introduction of Paul’s Letter to the Philippians (1:1).59 The mere mention of this combination without any context has led to ample discussion about this phrase. Although there are some scholars who argue that this phrase refers to only one office, it seems to us that it refers to at least two aspects of one office and more probably to two offices and that the first function is logically the more important and that the second one refers to bearers of an office subordinate to the other. 60 von dem Interesse geleitet, das Amt sacral zu legitimitieren und die Amtsträger als unabsetzbar auszuweisen, um die Stellungnahme der römischen Gemeinde zu begründen.” 56  Evans, “The Citation of Isaiah,” 105–6. 57  Ibid., 106. 58  Note that in Acts  6 there is no mentioning of diakonoi and that the apostles as well as the seven do have a diakonia. 59  For a discussion, see among others Gibaut, Cursus Honorum, 16. 60  For this, see Collins, Diakonia, 235–36 and, especially, Deacons and the Church: Making Connections between Old and New (Leominster, UK: Gracewing, 2002), 47–58.

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It is the First Letter to Timothy that reflects the first description of the ministry of episkopos and diakonoi. One can find the term presbuteros in 1 Timothy 5:17, but there it seems again to be synonymous with episkopos. What is the relationship between this structure and the picture found in Acts? What are the role and the function of the episkopos, the diakonos, and the widow in 1 Timothy? These questions are difficult to answer. However, it is clear that 1 Timothy promotes a kind of two-fold ministry. The episkopos (here for the first time in Christian literature in the singular) has more responsibilities than the diakonoi. The episkopos and the diakonoi are closely linked and from the structure we learn that the first is in charge and that the latter are his assistants, assistants who are geared not merely to lowly service. There is another important witness: Did. 15:1–2: “Appoint for yourselves episkopoi and diakonoi, worthy of the Lord, men who are gentle, not money lending, truthful, and tested; for you likewise gratuitously serve the unpaid […] of the prophet and teachers. Do not, then, look down upon them. For they themselves are your honoured ones in company with the prophet and teachers.”61 Discussing this passage in his commentary and in seven excurses, Mila­ vec observes that this advice is presented without any fanfare or injunction of the Lord: “Hence, one can presume that the communities had already been functioning according to this rule.”62 He notes that there is a certain defensive tone in this context: “When members were told ‘Do not look upon them [the bishops]’ (Did. 15), one can be sure that many had indeed done just this” (emphasis of A.M). 63 Milavec sketches the meaning of the four qualifications required of the episkopoi and diakonoi. He refers to the possible links between the synagogue model of organisation and that of the early church. The most remarkable difference between 1 Clem.  42 and the Didache is the fact that the manual for living the Way of the Life (suddenly) speaks of appointing episkopoi and diakonoi worthy of the Lord. One does not find here any hint that, as in 1 Clement somehow apostles stand behind the appointments of these ministers or that these ministries are rooted in Scriptures.64 There is one element which 1 Clement and Didache share: the seemingly obvious connection between episkopoi and diakonoi. Milavec points out that this combination is curious. One of the reasons for this judgment is that he considers 61  Aaron Milavec, The Didache: Faith, Hope and Life of the Earliest Communities, 50–70 CE (New York: Newman, 2003), argues for quite an early date, earlier than 1 Clement. For the more accepted, later dating see, for example, André Tullier, “Les charismatiques itinérants dans la Didachè et dans l’Évangile de Matthieu,” in Matthew and the Didache: Two Documents from the Same Jewish-Christian Milieu? (ed. Huub van de Sandt; Assen: Van Gorkum, 2005), 157–69; see the English summary, 171–72. 62 Milavec, Didache, 581–617, here 583. 63 Milavec, Didache, 586. 64  Still, there is some continuity suggested in the Didache: between prophets and teachers at the one hand and episkopoi and diakonoi on the other.

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diakonoi to be table servants.65 In his discussion of the charismatic wanderers in the Didache, Tullier argues that there is a parallel between the prophets and the episkopoi on the one hand and the teachers and the diakonoi on the other. 66 For us it suffices to conclude here that, although it is difficult to place Didache exactly in a timeline, the Didache is a witness, probably a little older than 1 Clement, of a two-fold ministry in an early Christian community. It is interesting to note that Tullier suggests that the Didache presents assimilation between the teachers and the deacons.67 As in 1 Clement, in the Didache the relationship between the episkopoi and the diakonoi is like a leader and his assistants and thus this relationship is not as curious as Milavec suggests.

5. Conclusion 1.  Clement uses Isa 60:17 as a key to understanding the ministry in Corinth as a two-fold ministry. The relation between episkopoi and diakonoi is like the relationship between leaders and their assistants. 2.  This reference shows that for Clement the ministry of Israel, as reflected in the Scriptures, constitutes a model for the ministry of the ekklesia. Clement does not adduce a verbatim quotation, but while paraphrasing Isa 60:17 he presents the readers with a suggestive reference to a more or less biblical model. Introducing to the reference the combination episkopoi and diakonoi as a stock phrase from the nascent Christian community he anchors the two-fold ministry in Biblical tradition.68 3.  This use of a model derived from the memory of an Isaianic text matches the use of OT models elsewhere in 1 Clem.  40–44. Although Clement uses two different registers in referring to the ministries of Judaism and those within the community in Corinth, he nonetheless sees a continuity between the two. Both are of divine origin. In this way, Clement establishes an additional way to envisage the continuity between Israel and the Church. 65 Milavec,

Didache, 590. Tullier, “Les charismatiques itinérants,” 159 n.  8. Milavec, Didache, 590, refers to the possibility that the Greek text wants us to see not two distinct offices, but only one: bishops who are deacons. We think that the parallel between episkopoi and diakonoi on the one hand and teachers on the other shows that two offices are at stake. For prophets and teachers as two distinct offices, see also Acts  13:1. See also Herm. Vis. III, 5,1, where we hear about foursquare (τετράγωνος) stones: “Hear now with regard to the stones which are in the building. Those foursquare white stones which fitted exactly into each other, are apostles, bishops, teachers, and deacons.” Elsewhere in Hermas the apostles and teachers are a pair (see, for example, Herm. Sim. 915,4). 67  Tullier, “Les charismatiques itinérants,” 163. This concurs with our observation that the diakon-stem is not at the first place related to low service, see note 1 above. 68  For this see also Collins, Diakonia, 330 n.  2. 66  See

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4.  Clement introduces the reference to Isa 60:17 because he wants to stress that these ministries are not a new phenomenon. They are an ancient instutition, even of divine origin. Clement prepares his audience for his defence of the removed episkopoi/presbuteroi. (44:4). Referring to the fact that the two ministries already existed in Scripture legitimise, according to the author, their position in the church of Corinth and thus it is a sin to eject them from their ministry. 69

69 

I should like to thank Dr John N. Collins (Australia) for his corrections of my English.

What Do “Deacons” Do in the Shepherd of Hermas? Mark Grundeken

1. Introduction For clarifying what early Christian deacons did, Hermas is not really illuminating.1 The present article aims to show this by discussing whether Hermas testi­ fies to the presence of “deacons” (διάκονοι) in the Christian communities in Rome2 and whether the text offers information on the function(s) of the διάκονοι. The problem can be illustrated, by way of introduction, on the basis of the first occurence of διάκονος κτλ. in Hermas: Vis. 3.5.1, which mentions οἱ ἀπόστολοι καὶ ἐπίσκοποι καὶ διδάσκαλοι καὶ διάκονοι, of whom “some have fallen asleep, but ­others are still there” (οἱ μὲν κεκοιμημένοι, οἱ δὲ ἔτι ὄντες).3 Hermas refers here to figures of the early years of the church, of whom some have passed away, but others are still alive.4 One of the difficulties in interpreting this passage is that it is unclear which of those mentioned belong to the deceased and which to the living. 1 In this article, “Hermas” (“Herm.”) is used for referring to the author; “Hermas” (“Herm.”) for the writing. The article is about διάκονος κτλ.; other issues, for example, what Hermas means by “apostles,” will not be treated. For the analysis I have taken the text of Herm. as a whole; for the composition of the work, see Mark Grundeken, Community Building in the Shepherd of Hermas: A Critical Study of Some Key Aspects (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 11–16. Citations of the text of Herm. follow Martin Leutzsch, ed., “Hirt des Hermas,” in Papiasfragmente, Hirt des Hermas (eds. Ulrich H. J. Körtner and Martin Leutzsch; Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2006), 105–497. Passages are cited after the traditional manner, which structures the work in three parts (Visions [Herm. Vis.] 1–5; Mandates [Herm. Mand.] 1–12, and Similitudes [Herm. Sim.] 1–10). The translations are mine. 2  For Rome as the place of composition of Herm., see Grundeken, Community, 9–11. 3  Concerning these “titles,” Carolyn Osiek, Shepherd of Hermas: A Commentary (Minnea­ polis: Fortress, 1999), 22 remarks: “These titles that at some point allude to church office refer to past situations, biblical allusions, and hypothetical roles. All terms are found in the Pauline letters.” 4  According to Norbert Brox, Der Hirt des Hermas (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991), this is about “die kirchlichen Autoritäten der ersten Stunde oder Generation” (130), “die christlich-kirchlichen Autoritäten der Ursprungszeit” (429) and οἱ δὲ ἔτι ὄντες means that “die Anfänge des Christentums […] mit einigen Überlebenden noch in die Gegenwart rei­chen” (131) as well as that “H (i. e., Hermas) vorbildliche alte Kirchenmänner der vorigen Generation noch kennt” (131 n.  47). For the use of “church” and “community” in the present article, see n.  11 below.

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Hermas probably does not mean that some of the apostles are still alive. In Vis. 3.5.1 the apostles are set apart from the others: only their group designation goes with an article (οἱ) and lacks an accompanying participle (see ἐπίσκοποι […] ἐπισκοπήσαντες, διδάσκαλοι […] διδάξαντες, and διάκονοι […] διακονήσαντες). The other references to ἀπόστολοι in Hermas seem to imply that the apostles belong to the past. The “apostles and teachers who proclaimed the Son of God” mentioned in Sim. 9.15.4 (ἀπόστολοι καὶ διδάσκαλοι τοῦ κηρύγματος τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ θεοῦ, see Sim. 8.3.2) “have passed away” (κοιμηθέντες, Sim. 9.16.5). The other two references to apostles use the past tense: according to Sim. 9.17.1, the Son of God “was proclaimed” to all the twelve tribes or peoples of the world (v. 2) “by the apostles” (ἐκηρύχθη […] διὰ τῶν ἀποστόλων) and 9.25.2 speaks of “apostles and teachers (ἀπόστολοι καὶ διδάσκαλοι) who proclaimed (κηρύξαντες) to the whole world and who taught (διδάξαντες) […] the word of the Lord.” There is no indication that for Hermas the apostles are contemporary people.5 The phrase οἱ δὲ ἔτι ὄντες thus probably relates to the ἐπίσκοποι, διδάσκαλοι, and/or διάκονοι. 6 Ἐπίσκοποι are mentioned once more, in Sim. 9.27, where the clause “their place is already with the angels, if they continue to serve (ἐὰν ἐπιμείνωσιν […] λειτουργοῦντες) the Lord until the end” (v. 3) indicates that for Hermas the ἐπίσκοποι belong to the present. The διδάσκαλοι in Sim. 9.15.4, 9.16.5, and 9.25.2 are figures of bygone times,7 yet in other passages present teachers are meant: Mand. 4.3.1, for instance, mentions “some teachers” (τινων διδασκάλων) who are contemporaries of the figure Hermas and Sim. 9.19.2 “teachers of evil” (διδάσκαλοι πονηρίας)8 who still have a chance to change and be saved.9 5  This weakens an argument that is sometimes used for an early dating of Herm. Pace Harry O. Maier, The Social Setting of the Ministry as Reflected in the Writings of Hermas, Clement and Ignatius (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1991), 55: “Vis. 3:5.1, with its reference to apostles, bishops, teachers and deacons, some of whom ‘have fallen asleep,’ but some of whom are still alive, suggests an earlier date than the mid-second century” and Geoffrey M. Hahneman, The Muratorian Fragment and the Development of the Canon (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 37–38, who concludes on the basis of Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 (“some of the apostles were still living”) and Herm. Sim. 9.15.4 and 9.16.5 (“the apostles appear to have all died”): “the Shepherd may have been written during the transition to the post-apostolic age, about the end of the first century.” 6  Pace Martin Dibelius, Der Hirt des Hermas (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1923), 466: “Die Worte οἱ δὲ ἔτι ὄντες beziehen sich wohl darauf, daß die Aemter der ἐπίσκοποι und διάκονοι noch vorhanden sind.” Compare Brox, Hirt, 130: “Bischöfe, Lehrer und Diakone gibt es […] noch jetzt (Man IV 3,1; Sim IX 19,2; 26,2; 27,2).” 7 See also Ulrich Neymeyr, Die christlichen Lehrer im zweiten Jahrhundert: Ihre Lehrtätigkeit, ihr Selbstverständnis und ihre Geschichte (Leiden: Brill, 1989), 14–15. According to Brox, Hirt, 433, 538, in Herm. Sim. 9.15.4, 9.16.5–6, and 9.25.2 no distinction can be made between the “apostles” and “teachers.” 8  According to Brox, Hirt, 445, “heretics” are meant. 9 Compare Neymeyr, Lehrer, 15: “Der Hirt des Hermas bezeugt also das Wirken christlicher Lehrer in der Mitte des zweiten Jahrhunderts in Rom sowie die wachsende Aus-

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Διάκονοι are mentioned again in Sim. 9.15.4 and 9.26.2. The first instance is about pre-Christian (9.16) “servants of God” (διάκονοι αὐτοῦ, i. e., θεοῦ), the second one about “servants who served badly” (διάκονοί εἰσι κακῶς διακονήσαντες). That the latter are thought of as being contemporary people is shown by the clause, “but if they turn and complete their service in a pure way, they will be able to live” (ἐὰν δὲ ἐπιστρέψωσι καὶ ἁγνῶς τελειώσωσι τὴν διακονίαν αὐτῶν, δυνήσονται ζῆσαι).10 The question of whether Vis. 3.5.1 means that some of the ἐπίσκοποι, some of the διδάσκαλοι, and some of the διάκονοι “are still there,” or that some of those mentioned “are still there,” must remain open. Therefore, it cannot be ascertained that Hermas refers here to contemporary διάκονοι. In what follows, we will have a closer look at the references to διάκονοι in Hermas.

2. Does Hermas Testify to the Presence of “Deacons” in the Christian Communities in Rome? The διάκονοι are, in Hermas’ visions, “stones” of the “tower” (Vis. 3.5.1; Sim. 9.15.4; 9.26.2). The tower that is built is the church; the stones are its members. In both Vis. 3 and Sim. 9 the size of the building project indicates that the tower is an image of the church throughout the world:11 there are myriads of builders­ (Vis. 3.2.5) and the twelve mountains from which the stones for the building are taken are the twelve tribes or peoples of the whole world (Sim. 9.17.2). In ­Hermas’ view, there are διάκονοι in the church at large.12 The question is, what this means. einandersetzung mit Irrlehrern, unter der das Ansehen der zeitgenössischen Lehrer zu leiden hatte.” 10  It cannot be determined whether “deacons” are meant here. See also Maier, Social Setting, 82 n.  39: “Perhaps deacons […] although it is difficult to be certain” and Osiek, Shepherd, 249: “The reference (i. e., διάκονοι) may be a general one here, to all kinds of ministers in the church.” 11 Hermas envisions four Christian “circles”: Hermas’ house church (see, for example, Herm. Vis. 1.1.9), the church in Rome, i. e., the communities in the city (Herm. Vis. 2.4.3), com­munities in other places (ibid.), and the church as a whole (Herm. Sim. 9.18.2). See Grundeken, Community, 1. 12  Pace Martin Leutzsch, Die Wahrnehmung sozialer Wirklichkeit im “Hirten des Hermas” (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989), 67–68: “Hermas bezeugt die Existenz von Presbytern, von Episkopen und von Diakonen in der römischen Gemeinde.” The distinction made by Joachim Rohde, Urchristliche und frühkatholische Ämter: Eine Untersuchung zur frühchristlichen Amtsentwicklung im Neuen Testament und bei den apostolischen Vätern (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1976), 148 between the “gesamtkirchlichen Ämter[n] der Apostel, Propheten und Lehrer” and the “Gemeindeämter[n] der Episkopen, Presbyter und Diakone” (see also Adolf von Harnack, Entstehung und Entwickelung der Kirchenverfassung und des Kirchenrechts in den zwei ersten Jahrhunderten nebst einer Kritik der Abhandlung R. Sohm’s: “Wesen und Ursprung des Katholizismus” und Untersuchungen über “Evangelium,” “Wort

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The three groups of stones that represent διάκονοι are not homogeneous. In Vis. 3.5.1 white, squared stones that are part of the tower (see 3.2.4) represent, among others, διάκονοι who “served (διακονήσαντες) God’s chosen ones in a pure and holy way.” These διάκονοι are (existing or imaginary?) “exemplary” figures of the early years of the church. In Sim. 9.15.4, thirty-five out of one hundred ten (10+25+35+40) stones from the depth (see 9.4.3; 9.5.3–4) represent pre-Christian “prophets of God and his διάκονοι” who “fell asleep in righteousness and great purity” (9.16.7) and who were after a post-mortem baptism by deceased Christian apostles and teachers incorporated into the tower (9.16).13 These διάκονοι are “exemplary” pre-Christian “servants of God.”14 In Sim. 9.26.2, stained stones of the ninth mountain (desolate and full of deathly snakes, see 9.1.9) represent διάκονοι who kept money or other means for themselves rather than distributing it to the needy. Hermas here gives, in the context of his call to repentance (see ἐὰν δὲ ἐπιστρέψωσι, v. 2), an example of believers (πιστεύσαντες, v. 1) who must change if they want to be saved. These διάκονοι belong to the present. It is uncertain whether they are meant to be “deacons,” or “servants” (for the latter, see Sim. 9.15.4).15 As they are depicted as “deplorable” examples of believers within the context of Hermas’ call to μετάνοια, it is difficult to decide whether they are existing or imaginary figures.16 Since the three groups of διάκονοι are (1) so different, (2) portrayed as “exemplary” or “deplorable” believers, and (3) simply “stones” of the “tower,” that is, members of the church at large, it cannot be said on the basis of Hermas that διάκονοι is used in a uniform sense, that it means “deacons,” or that there were διάκονοι in the Christian communities in Rome. There is a clear contrast to the depiction of the presiding presbyters (πρεσβύτεροι/προηγούμενοι/ προϊστάμενοι)17 who are mentioned in direct relation to the ἐκκλησία in Rome. In Vis. 2.2.6–7, Hermas quotes from the booklet Gottes” und das trinitarische Bekenntnis [Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1910], 55–57) does not follow from Herm. 13  For the notion of baptism in Herm., see Grundeken, Community, 128–40. 14  Compare Brox, Hirt, 430: “Die ‘Diener’ Gottes […] werden nicht identifiziert” and 539: “Patriarchen?” Pace John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 215: “Hermas’s phrase ‘prophets of God and his διάκονοι’ (Sim. 9.15.4) refers to pre-Christian prophets; we notice that the ministers are not the prophets’ ministers but God’s, and we are to understand them as being authentic bearers of God’s message who were not honoured with the traditional designation of ‘prophet.’” 15  It cannot be assumed that Hermas’ recipients must have thought of “deacons”: in Herm. Sim. 9.15.4 διάκονοι does not seem to be used in that sense. 16  Since Hermas lists in the light of his call to μετάνοια more or less every sin and virtue one could think of, his examples of sinful and virtuous believers do not necessarily refer to existing people. For μετάνοια in Herm., see Grundeken, Community, 128–40. 17  In the context of this article on διάκονος κτλ., the question how to translate πρεσβύτεροι is left open. The rendering “presbyters” has been chosen, because it stays closer to the Greek term than “elders.”

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of the woman church that he copied (see 2.1.3–4): “Say then (i. e., you, Hermas) to those who preside over the church (τοῖς προηγουμένοις τῆς ἐκκλησίας) that they make straight their paths in righteousness […]. Continue (to do so) then (ἐμμείνατε οὖν), you who work righteousness.” The woman church thus directly addresses the church leaders and asks Hermas to pass on her message to them. The church leaders are mentioned again in Vis. 2.4.2–3, where Hermas describes the following vision: “The elderly woman (i. e., the woman church) came and asked me if I had already given the book to the presbyters (τοῖς πρεσβυτέροις, v. 2).” Since “book” refers back to the “booklet,” it is likely that the terms προηγούμενοι and πρεσβύτεροι refer to the same persons. This becomes all the more obvious when the woman church says to Hermas: “But you should read (it) (i. e., the booklet) in this city (i. e., in Rome, Vis. 1.1.1) among the presbyters who preside over the church (μετὰ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων τῶν προϊσταμένων τῆς ἐκκλησίας)” (v. 3). In Vis. 3.9.7, the church leaders are again directly addressed by the woman church: “Now then I say to you who preside over the church (τοῖς προηγουμένοις τῆς ἐκκλησίας).” This clearly refers back to Vis. 2.2.6, where the same terminology is used. In Hermas’ portrayal, presbyters preside over the church in Rome.18 Attempts to identify the presiding presbyters with the διάκονοι (or ἐπίσκοποι) fail.19 What is relevant here is that in Hermas the presiding presbyters, unlike 18  See also Osiek, Shepherd, 59, who thinks that the presbyters preside over “the totality of the Christians in the city […] (the) Christian assembly in the city” (rather than being in charge of a local house church). For the idea that in Herm. Vis. 2.2.6, 2.4.3, and 3.9.7 the same group is meant, see ibid., 22–23. According to James S. Jeffers, Conflict at Rome: Social Order and Hierarchy in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 156, it is uncertain whether in Herm. Vis. 3.1.8, “presbyters” is meant in the sense of “church officeholders.” Brox, Hirt, 534 believes that in Herm. Sim. 9.31.5–6 the “shepherds of the flock” (οἱ ποιμένες […] τοῦ ποιμνίου) could be the presiding presbyters. Compare Maier, Social Setting, 64: “probably a synonym for ἐπίσκοποι,” see, for example, Acts  20, where the “presbyters of the community” (τοὺς πρεσβυτέρους τῆς ἐκκλησίας, v. 17) are identified with the “overseers” of the “flock” (τῷ ποιμνίῳ […] ἐπισκόπους ποιμαίνειν τὴν ἐκκλησίαν τοῦ θεοῦ, v. 28). 19  See also Harnack, Entstehung, 56–57. Pace Leutzsch, Wahrnehmung, 68 (see also idem, Hirt, 138): “die Episkopen und die Diakone [gehörten] zu den Presbytern.” Compare Dibe­ lius, Hirt, 635: “die Hypothese wird man […] denn doch wagen dürfen, daß in Rom zu jener Zeit die Bischöfe (und Diakonen?) dem Kollegium der Presbyter angehören, aber daß dieses mit den Amtsträgern nicht identisch ist, da die Bischöfe und Diakonen Sonderfunktionen haben.” For the idea that the presbyters mentioned in Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 are overseers, see, for example, Hans von Campenhausen, Kirchliches Amt und geistliche Vollmacht in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 21963), 91; Robert Joly, Hermas: Le Pasteur (Paris: Cerf, 21968), 41, 110 n.  2; Rohde, Ämter, 153; Reinhard M. Hübner, “Die Anfänge von Diakonat, Presbyterat und Episkopat in der frühen Kirche,” in Das Priestertum in der Einen Kirche: Diakonat, Presbyterat und Episkopat (eds. Albert Rauch and Paul Imhof; Aschaffenburg: Kaffke, 1987), 45–89, 74; Peter Lampe, Die stadtrömischen Christen in den ersten beiden Jahrhunderten: Untersuchungen zur Sozialgeschichte (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987), 337; Maier, Social Setting, 63–64; Brox, Hirt, 131, 536; Joseph Ysebaert, Die Amtsterminologie im Neuen Testament und in der Alten Kirche: Eine lexikographische Untersuchung (Breda: Eureia, 1994), 93–94, and Osiek, Shepherd, 23, 249.

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the διάκονοι, form a homogeneous group, are directly addressed (and seem to be people known to the figure Hermas), and are explicitly associated with the local church in Rome. On the basis of Hermas it cannot be established that there were “deacons” in the Christian communities in Rome.20

3. What Do the Διάκονοι in Hermas Do? Hermas gives hardly any information about the activities of the διάκονοι. In Vis. 3.5.1, the threefold paronomasia does not reveal very much, if anything, about the specific tasks of those mentioned: It is said that the ἐπίσκοποι “supervised,” or “took care (of others)” (ἐπίσκοποι […] ἐπισκοπήσαντες), that the διδάσκαλοι “taught” (διδάσκαλοι […] διδάξαντες), and that the διάκονοι “served” (διάκονοι […] διακονήσαντες).21 Objects of the supervision/care, the teaching, and the service are “God’s elect” (οἱ ἐκλεκτοί τοῦ θεοῦ).22 In Sim. 9.27, the ἐπίσκοποι are mentioned (again) as “exemplary” believers (πιστεύσαντες, v. 1): “Overseers (ἐπίσκοποι) and hospitable people (φιλόξενοι) who always willingly received (ὑπεδέξαντο) God’s servants (τοὺς δούλους τοῦ θεοῦ) into their houses […] And the overseers (ἐπίσκοποι) always protected (ἐσκέπασαν) the needy and widows constantly in their service (τῇ διακονίᾳ ἑαυτῶν).”23 The service of the ἐπίσκοποι thus consists of being hospitable to (individual) believers24 and of protecting the needy and widows (see the image 20  Pace Joly, Hermas, 41: presbyters, overseers, and deacons form “la hiérarchie romaine”; Ysebaert, Amtsterminologie, 134: Hermas uses διάκονος in Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 “als technischen Terminus für die Diakone der römischen Gemeinde,” and Osiek, Shepherd, 71: Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 would refer to “those in leadership positions in the Christian community […] in the Roman church.” 21  The two parallel, quadrinominal clauses in Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 indicate that οἱ πορευθέντες κατὰ τὴν σεμνότητα τοῦ θεοῦ belongs to the apostles. See Brox, Hirt, 130. 22  It goes too far to say that Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 describes specific “offices.” Pace Dibelius, Hirt, 466: “Bischöfe, Lehrer und Diakonen, die […] ihr Amt als Bischöfe, Lehrer und Diakonen […] verwaltet haben,” with the note (ibid.): “Von den Würdenträgern werden hier sowohl Charismatiker, nämlich Apostel und Lehrer, als ‘technische’ Beamte, Episkopen und Diakonen, genannt”; Joly, Hermas, 111–12: “les évêques, les docteurs, les diacres […] qui ont exercé leur ministère d’évêque, de docteur, de diacre”; Brox, Hirt, 122: “Bischöfe, Lehrer und ­Diakone, die […] ihre Aufgaben als Bischöfe, Lehrer und Diakone […] erfüllt haben,” and Leutzsch, “Hirt,” 169: “Bischöfe und Lehrer und Diakone, die […] als Bischöfe und Lehrer und Diakone […] gewirkt haben.” Compare Osiek, Shepherd, 66: “overseers and teachers and deacons […] who have governed and taught and served.” 23  Jean Colson, “Diakon und Bischof in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten der Kirche,” in Diaconia in Christo: Über die Erneuerung des Diakonates (eds. Karl Rahner and Herbert Vorgrimler; Freiburg: Herder, 1962), 23–30, 24 translates διακονία here with “Diakonie” and comments: “Die Diakonie ist im ‘Hirten des Hermas’ deutlich den Bischöfen zugeordnet […] Aber diese den Bischöfen zugeordnete Diakonie haben sie, dem Anschein nach, durch Vermittlung der Diakone ausgeübt, die eigens mit der Diakonie in der Kirche beauftragt waren.” 24  According to Brox, Hirt, 453, this is not about “die Einladung ganzer Hausgemeinden

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of “trees” that shelter “sheep” in v. 1). It should be noted that the welcoming of believers is not the special task of the ἐπίσκοποι (see καὶ φιλόξενοι).25 Helping the needy or widows is not their special task either. The διάκονοι also render service to widows (and orphans, see Sim. 9.26.2). Moreover, all believers are expected to help the needy and widows.26 With the mention of the ἐπίσκοποι, Hermas is above all giving an example of “exemplary” believers. Concerning the διδάσκαλοι it is said that the teachers of the past (who are always mentioned together with the apostles) have proclaimed the Son of God (9.15.4), both on earth and in the underworld (9.16.5; 9.25.2), and have taught the word of the Lord (9.25.2). Present teaching activity (διδάσκω κτλ.) is attributed to the Lord (Vis. 4.1.8), “some teachers” (Mand. 4.3.1), the “angel of evil” (Mand. 6.2.7), the Shepherd (Sim. 5.1.3), those who teach “other teachings” (Sim. 8.6.5), “teachers of evil” (Sim. 9.19.2), and “wannabe teachers” (Sim. 9.22.2). These people form a rather diffuse group of “teachers.”27 The διάκονοι are mentioned in Sim. 9.26.2 as an example of believers (πιστεύσαντες, v. 1) who are guilty of “shameful” practices: “Servants (διάκονοι) […] who served badly (κακῶς διακονήσαντες) and deprived widows and orphans of the livelihood and kept for themselves from the service,28 which they re(zu Versammlung und Eucharistie),” but about “den Dienst der Beherbergung an (fremden, reisenden) Mitchristen.” 25  The phrase ἐπίσκοποι καὶ φιλόξενοι indicates that Hermas is not describing an “office.” Besides, the fact that the same combination of words (i. e., ἐπίσκοπον and φιλόξενον) is found in 1 Tim  3:2 raises the question whether Hermas thinks of any existing people, or uses a literary example (which does not necessarily imply that Hermas knew 1 Tim). 26  See esp. Herm. Mand. 8.10: all (πάντες, v. 12) should “help widows and look after orphans and needy people […] be hospitable” (χήραις ὑπηρετεῖν καὶ ὀρφάνους καὶ ὑστερουμένους ἐπισκέπτεσθαι […] φιλόξενον εἶναι; compare Herm. Sim. 9.27.2: ἐπίσκοποι […] φιλόξενοι […] ὑστερημένους […] χήρας […] ἐσκέπασαν). 27  According to Brox, Hirt, 433, Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 and Herm. Mand. 4.3.1 are about “den Stand des zeitgenössischen kirchlichen Lehrers.” The information in Herm. does, however, not say very much, if anything, about “the office of teacher.” 28  Here “service” seems to be the best rendering (see the paronomasia). Compare Herm. Mand. 2.6 (“duty”); 12.3.3 (“task”); Herm. Sim. 1.9 (similar to Herm. Mand. 2.6; see here the plural ταύτας τὰς διακονίας, compare τὰ ἔργα in v. 7 and τὸ δὲ σὸν ἔργον in v. 11); 2.7,10 (similar to Herm. Mand. 2.6; compare τὸ ἔργον in Herm. Sim. 2.7); 8.4.1–2 (“assistance”); 10.2.4 and 10.4.1 (similar to Herm. Mand. 12.3.3, but here the Latin rendering ministerium is used). Compare Rohde, Ämter, 151: “Zwar wird auch (i. e., as in the NT) bei den apostolischen Vätern das Amt noch mit dem gleichen Begriff (i. e., διακονία) bezeichnet, aber der Ton ist doch deutlich vom Dienstbegriff auf das Amtliche hin verschoben […] deutlich auch Herm. Mand. II, 6; XII, 3, 3, während in Sim. IX, 26, 2; 27, 2 der Dienstcharakter der Aufgaben der Episkopen und Diakone noch stark betont wird.” It goes too far to say that the διάκονοι in Hermas are “office-bearers.” Pace Brox, Hirt, 439: “Diakone, die ihr Diakonamt schlecht ausgeübt und Witwen und Waisen den Lebensunterhalt geraubt und sich mit Hilfe des Diakonamtes bereichert haben, das sie doch zum Dienen übernommen hatten” and Osiek, Shepherd, 242: “ministers who minister badly and despoil the living of widows and orphans, and make profit for themselves off the ministry entrusted to them to do.” Compare Collins, Diakonia, 229 (on Herm. Sim. 9.26.2): “the ‘ministry’ is a service to the Lord and an office to be ‘ful-

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ceived/took 29 to serve (ἐκ τῆς διακονίας ἧς ἔλαβον διακονῆσαι).” It is implied that the διάκονοι kept for themselves what they were supposed to distribute to the needy (mentioned are widows and orphans). From this it does not follow that administering the community’s help to the needy (by collecting and distributing money or other means) was the specific task of “deacons.”30 First, it is questionable whether διάκονοι means “deacons” here; the word choice seems to be based on paronomasia with an emphasis on “serving” (διάκονοι […] διακονήσαντες […] διακονίας […] διακονῆσαι). Second, it is doubtful whether the described service (διακονία) is meant to be the specific task of the διάκονοι, for διακονία in the sense of help to the needy is, according to Mand. 2.6, Sim. 1.9, and 2.10, the duty of all (well-to-do) believers. 31 Finally, since those mentioned serve within the filled’ which has been received in the church but held ultimately under the authority of the Lord.” Note that the phrase ἔλαβεν […] τὴν διακονίαν in Herm. Mand. 2.6 (compare ἐκ τῆς διακονίας ἧς ἔλαβον in Herm. Sim. 9.26.2) does not imply any “office” (compare also τὴν διακονίαν […] ἐτέλεσεν […] ἡ διακονία […] τελεσθεῖσα in Herm. Mand. 2.6 with τελειώσωσι τὴν διακονίαν in Herm. Sim. 9.26.2). Jeffers, Conflict, 178 writes: “Hermas’s writings do not make a significant distinction between officeholders and other members” and 186: “Hermas rejects the notion of a clergy set apart.” According to Craig S. Wansink, “‘You Will Be Restored Again to Your Office.’ Autobiographical Insights in The Shepherd of Hermas,” in Historische Wahrheit und theologische Wissenschaft (ed. Alf Özen; Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1996), 71–85, τόπος in Herm. Sim. 7.6 means „office” (compare Acts  1:25: τὸν τόπον τῆς διακονίας ταύτης καὶ ἀποστολῆς). Even if Wansink’s interpretation is right, it still stands that τόπος is in Herm. not used in relation to the διάκονοι. 29  The verb ἔλαβον can mean “they received” (see Dibelius, Hirt, 633: “empfangen”), or “they took” (see Brox, Hirt, 439: “übernommen”), so an instruction is not necessarily meant. Pace John N. Collins, “A Monocultural Usage: διακον-words in Classical, Hellenistic, and Patristic Sources,” VC 66 (2012): 287–309, 296: διακονία “necessarily implies the carrying out of a commission from a person or institution – with whatever level of authority or power this requires.” 30  Pace Lampe, Christen, 72: “An Bedürftige, besonders an Witwen und Waisen […] zahlt die christliche Gemeinschaft durch Diakone Lebensunterhalt; nur bereichern einige Diakone sich dabei schändlicherweise, anstatt getreulich zu verteilen”; Leutzsch, Wahrnehmung, 136: “Zu den institutionalisierten Voraussetzungen ist […] wohl auch schon für die Zeit des Hermas eine Gemeindekasse zu rechnen”; idem, Hirt, 138: “”der Diakonat, der mit Geldspenden, vermutlich aus der Gottesdienstkollekte, arbeitet […] die institutionalisierte Witwen- und Waisenfürsorge”; Maier, Social Setting, 62–63: “in Sim. 9:26.2 Hermas describes the misuse of alms given to leaders for distribution […] the squandering of public funds by leaders,” and Valeriy A. Alikin, The Earliest History of the Christian Gathering: Origin, Development and Content of the Christian Gathering in the First to Third Centuries (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 271: “According to the Pastor Hermae, the task of administering the congregation’s help to the destitute was assigned to deacons.” Compare Daniel Batovici, “Contrasting Ecclesial Functions in the Second Century: ‘DIAKONIA,’ ‘DIAKONOI,’ ‘EPISKOPOI’ and ‘PRESBYTEROI’ in the Shepherd of Hermas and Ignatius of Antioch’s Letters,” Aug 51 (2011): 303–14, 306: “The only instance (i. e., in Herm.) where something is said about their (i. e., of the diakonoi) activity – in Sim. 9,26,2(103) – shows […] the neglected yet experienced care for orphans and widows.” 31  This forms an argument against the idea that from the description of the “deacons” in Herm. Sim. 9.26 it would follow that the Grapte mentioned in Herm. Vis. 2.4.3 was a dea­ coness. Pace Hans Lietzmann, “Zur altchristlichen Verfassungsgeschichte,” in Studien zur

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context of Hermas’ call to μετάνοια as an example of “deplorable” believers, it is uncertain whether Hermas describes an actual situation. It does not follow from Sim. 9.26.2 that within the Christian community deacons (if this is meant by διάκονοι) were the ones who were responsible for collecting and distributing money or other means to the needy.

4. Are the Διάκονοι in Hermas “Helpers” of the Ἐπίσκοποι? Hermas does not say anything about the relationship between the διάκονοι and ἐπίσκοποι.32 The phrase ἐπίσκοποι καὶ διάκονοι does not occur in the text.33 The service of the διάκονοι is mentioned only in relation to God’s chosen ones (Vis. 3.5.1), God (Sim. 9.15.4), and the widows and orphans (9.26.2). The parallelism between the διάκονοι and ἐπίσκοποι is limited; their services overlap only to some extent. Finally, it does not follow from Hermas that the διάκονοι are subordinate to the ἐπίσκοποι.34 On the basis of Hermas it cannot be said that the διάκονοι are the assistants of the ἐπίσκοποι.35

spätantiken Religionsgeschichte (vol.  1 of Hans Lietzmann: Kleine Schriften; ed. Kurt Aland; Berlin: Akademie, 1958), 141–85, 173: “Dort (i. e., Herm. Sim. 9.26–27) erfahren wir, daß die διάκονοι für Witwen und Waisen zu sorgen haben, und schließen daraus, daß die Vis. II, 4, 3 genannte Grapte, welche die Witwen und Waisen vermahnt, wohl eine weibliche Diakonos gewesen ist” (see also Campenhausen, Kirchliches Amt, 103; Hübner, “Anfänge,” 74; Ysebaert, Amtsterminologie, 134; Leutzsch, “Hirt,” 402 n.  220; Osiek, Shepherd, 59, and Ordained Women in the Early Church: A Documentary History [eds. Kevin Madigan and Carolyn Osiek; Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005], 25–26). Hermas does not use any title for Grapte. Moreover, “to admonish” (νουθετήσει, Vis. 2.4.3) is not the same as “to take care of” (Herm. Sim. 9.26.2). The only agreement between the two passages is that “widows and orphans” are mentioned. Brox, Hirt, 108 rightly remarks on that: “Die Erwähnung der Witwen und Waisen in zwei so verschiedenen Zusammenhängen berechtigt bei H (i. e., Hermas) nicht zu solchen systematisierenden Schlußfolgerungen.” See further Grundeken, Community, 108–10. Lietzmann’s (ibid.) assumption that Clement (Herm. Vis. 2.4.3) was “entweder Episkopos oder […] wahrscheinlicher […] Diakonos” is speculative. 32  See also Harnack, Entstehung, 56–57. 33 Compare, for example, Phil   1:1 (ἐπισκόποις καὶ διακόνοις); Did. 15.1 (ἐπισκόπους καὶ διακόνους), and 1 Clem.  42.4–5 (ἐπισκόπους καὶ διακόνους […] ἐπισκόπων καὶ διακόνων […] ἐπισκόπους […] καὶ διακόνους). 34  The fact that in Herm. Vis. 3.5.1, the ἐπίσκοποι are mentioned before the διδάσκαλοι and διάκονοι does not necessarily mean that they are more important than the others (pace Harnack, Entstehung, 55: “um sie [i. e., the overseers] zu ehren” and Leutzsch, “Hirt,” 416 n.  324: “Rangfolge”; compare Dibelius, Hirt, 466, 634: “durch Alliteration bedingte […] Reihen­ folge” and Brox, Hirt, 131: die Reihenfolge “läßt sich nicht sachlich erklären”). In Herm. Sim. 9.15.4, which deals with the “foundation” of the church and with the figures of the early years of the Christian community, διάκονοι are mentioned, ἐπίσκοποι are not. 35  Pace Dibelius, Hirt, 632–34; Lampe, Christen, 337; Brox, Hirt, 451, 537, and Osiek, Shepherd, 249. Compare Leutzsch, Wahrnehmung, 68: “Offen bleibt […] ob das Verhältnis von Episkopen und Diakonen ein egalitäres oder ein hierarchisches war.”

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5. Conclusion Summing up, we may conclude that the question of what “deacons” do according to the Shepherd of Hermas is difficult to answer. The first problem is that it cannot be ascertained that in Hermas διάκονοι means “deacons.” The author uses the term to refer to different characters: to “commendable” figures of the early years of the church (whereby it is unclear whether some of them are meant to be still alive, Vis. 3.5.1), to “exemplary” pre-Christian (which?) “servants of God” (Sim. 9.15.4), and to contemporary “deplorable” servants who have kept for themselves money or other means that they were expected to distribute to widows and orphans (Sim. 9.26.2). Since the διάκονοι serve in the light of Hermas’ call to μετάνοια as positive and negative examples, it is debatable whether existing or imaginary figures are thought of. In view of the fact that the διάκονοι are not referred to in relation to the local ἐκκλησία, it cannot be established that they were functionaries of the church in Rome. A further problem is that it is unclear what the function of the διάκονοι was. From the only instance in Hermas where something specific is said about the activity of the διάκονοι (Sim. 9.26.2), it does not follow that administering the community’s help to the needy (by collecting and distributing money or other means) was the specific task of the διάκονοι. Furthermore, Hermas does not say that the διάκονοι are the helpers of the ἐπίσκοποι. The διάκονοι are said to be “servants” of God’s chosen ones (Vis. 3.5.1), of God (Sim. 9.15.4), and of widows and orphans (Sim. 9.26.2). Nothing is said about the relationship between the διάκονοι and others, like the ἐπίσκοποι of the church throughout the world (Vis. 3.5.1; Sim. 9.27) and the presiding presbyters of the church in Rome (Vis. 2.2.6–7; 2.4.2–3; 3.9.7). For answering the question what deacons did in the early church, Hermas is not much help.

Understanding the Concept of Deacon in the Didache Clayton N. Jefford

The text of the Didache employs the term “deacon” (διάκονος) only one time during the course of its sixteen brief chapters, specifically at 15.1–2: So appoint bishops and deacons for yourselves who are worthy of the Lord, humble, financially content, and true men who have been tested, for they serve you as those who fulfill the ministry of the prophets and teachers. Do not disrespect them, for they represent your integrity in the same way as do the prophets and teachers.1

On the surface this single reference seems unexpected, appearing abruptly toward the end of a tractate otherwise focused on “two ways” teaching (chs. 1–6), liturgical instruction (chs. 7–10), ecclesiastical direction (chs. 11–15), and short apocalypse (ch. 16). Yet certain questions arise: 1) Is this comment original to the Vorlage? 2) Does the reference indicate some larger concern for ecclesiastical authority relative to the remainder of the work? 3) What can be learned about the concept of deacon here when one considers use of the term from broader literary context?

1. Original or Supplemental? Two aspects of this teaching beg explanation. The passage itself insists that deacons (together with bishops) reflect the spirit of prophets and teachers, presumably to suggest the latter have already passed from the scene. This recommends a date subsequent to the earliest years of the early Christian experience after which communities recognised the need to establish structured leadership for the direction of daily activities. Yet with respect to context, the presence of this material between directives on “the Lord’s day” (14.1–2) and community relationships (15.3–4) seems awkward and without immediate relevance. In some

1 All translations of the Didache in this essay are adapted from Clayton N. Jefford, ­ idache: The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles, Early Christian Apocrypha 5 (Salem, Oreg.: D Polebridge, 2013).

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sense the material exists as its own “subtext” within a larger structure, perhaps to advocate that its presence here is not original to the work’s Vorlage.2 Manuscript evidence offers limited help. The eleventh-century text of Codex Hierosolymitanus 54 (the editio princeps, in Greek) has only two known parallels here: a non-extant Georgian tradition and the late fourth-century Apos. Con. 7.31 (using the Didache as its source).3 The Georgian parallel reflects the majority of the Greek; however, variation occurs in the opening wording, which reads “by laying on of hands you gave orders to bishops, who are managers of the spiritual, and to deacons, ministers for service, men humble and modest […].”4 This rendering undoubtedly reflects a late mind set anxious for strict definition of holy orders and distinctions of office between bishops and deacons. Such divisions were not typical of the ancient Christian experience and thus were not likely present within the tradition originally.5 With reference to Constitutions, even further emendation appears. Significant variation away from Hierosolymitanus produces the following: and appoint bishops worthy of the Lord and presbyters and deacons, men who are ­pious, righteous, without avarice, lovers of truth, who have been examined, holy, without prejudice, able to teach the pious word, correct interpreters of the Lord’s doctrines. And honor them as your fathers, lords, patrons – the reason for success.

Once more one observes tendencies of the later church, indicated for example by the inclusion of “presbyters” (πρεσβύτερος) to reflect an innovative standardization of the three-fold hierarchy of offices within the post-Constantinian church, the introduction of moral qualities borrowed from 2 Tim  2:15, and the omission of “prophets and teachers” as offices likely to have been viewed as archaic within the post-Constantinian church. From both the Georgian witness and Constitutions one might argue that, if 15.1–2 was indeed added secondarily to the Vorlage of the Didache, the passage was nonetheless inserted prior to the fourth century, since the varied data from these parallels suggests ecclesiastical reflections beyond those of the original 2  So Nancy Pardee, The Genre and Development of the Didache (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 92–93, 140; see previously, Klaus Wengst, Didache (Apostellehre); Barnabasbrief; Zweiter Klemensbrief; Schrift an Diognet, Schriften des Urchristentums (Munich: Kosel, 1984), 88–89; Willy Rordorf and André Tuilier, La Doctrine des Douze Apôtres (Didaché) (Paris: Cerf, 21998), 49, 64, 72–73. 3  No other parallels to the Didache contain any of this material, including texts such as the Apostolic Church Order and Apostolic Tradition (in their various renderings), Coptic fragment, Didascalia, Doctrina apostolorum, Syntagma doctrina, Fides Nicaena, or POxy 1782. 4  For this, see Gregor Peradse, “Die ‘Lehre der zwölf Apostel’ in der georgischen Überlieferung,” ZNW 31 (1932): 111–16 (here 116). 5  For example, the Apostle Paul seems to think of himself under a variety of designations (if one includes deutero-Pauline materials), including “apostle” (ἀπόστολος; Gal  1:1; 2 Cor  1:1; etc.), “co-worker” (συνεργός; 1 Cor  3:9; Phil  2:25; etc.), “steward” (οἰκονόμος; 1 Cor  4:1), “prea­ cher” (κῆρυξ; 1 Tim  2:7), “deacon” (διάκονος; 1 Cor  3:5), and “teacher” (διδάσκαλος; 1 Tim  2:7).

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Greek text. 6 Beyond these parallels, no manuscript testimony provides a more precise date for any conceivable emendation of the tradition. At the same time, and in contrast to the Georgian text and Constitutions, elements of the passage suggest probable antiquity to the extent that the wording may be original to the “Didachist” (original author or compiler). Thus, as with Paul’s address to the Philippians (Phil  1:1), there is mention here of only two offices of leadership without that of presbyter.7 This seems unlikely for an author working even as late as the middle of the second-century. Further, the description of deacon here is limited to only a few characteristics: “worthy” (ἄξιος), “humble” (πραΰς), “financially content” (ἀφιλάργυρος), “true” (ἀληθής), and “tested” (δοκιμάζω). Already by the second century such descriptions were more broadly defined, often drawing in part on the authority of scripture (il­ lustrated by Constitutions above). Beyond this, the Didache’s instructions for liturgical rituals and community organization themselves seem rudimentary and perhaps designed for a community only recently established8 and thus perhaps early in the ministry of the church.9 Finally, the mention of (presumably “traveling”) prophets and teachers within this passage remains an element of concern. Such roles were eventually incorporated into the authority of the ­bishop in the later church, at which time an editor would not have considered such individuals any particular threat within the community. But it may also be that other reasons explain this apparently antique form of instruction. As many early scholars once argued, the Didache may reflect “backwater” circumstances in which the role of presbyter is not yet normative for the community.10 In such a setting there would be great variance in the structure of ecclesiastical leadership. So too, the charge to appoint bishops and deacons may be an attempt to establish settled offices of management within the assembly, apart from those transient figures who travel among communities promulgating teachings by their own authority. In this context the insertion of 6  The date for the Georgian remains unclear, but its tendencies clearly reflect concerns already present within the late fourth-century composition of Constitutions. 7  de Halleux envisages that the Didache itself preserves such a “very ancient situation, perhaps analogous to that attested by Philippians 1:1”; so André de Halleux, “Ministers in the Didache,” in The Didache in Modern Research, (ed. Jonathan A. Draper; Leiden: Brill, 1996), 300–20 (here 313); trans. of “Les ministères dans la Didachè,” Irén 53 (1980): 5–29. 8  So Francis A. Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops: The Development of the Episcopacy in the Early Church (New York: Newman, 2001), 102. 9 For summary considerations, see Georg Schöllgen in Georg Schöllgen and Wilhelm Geerlings, Didache: Zwölf-Apostle-Lehre; Traditio apostolica: Apostolische Überlieferung, Fontes Christiani 1 (Freiburg: Herder, 1991), 42–55; Gerard Rouwhorst, “Didache 9–10: A Litmus Test for the Research on Early Christian Liturgy Eucharist,” in Matthew and the Didache: Two Documents from the Same Jewish–Christian Milieu? (ed. Huub van de Sandt; Assen: Van Gorcum; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005), 143–56. 10  See, for example, J. Armitage Robinson, Barnabas, Hermas, and the Didache (London: SPCK; New York: Macmillan, 1920), 69–83; James Muilenburg, The Literary Relations of the Epistle of Barnabas and the Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (Marburg: 1929), 165–68.

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15.1–2 into the materials may be an attempt to confront issues that arose only later in the evolution of the assembly. This would suggest some evolution to the development of the text.11 Further, the role of deacon is not clearly distinguished from that of bishop here, either assuming no essential differences are evident at the time of writing or, more likely, that the audience is aware of how the offices have been defined previously. More importantly, however, is the charge to respect bishops and deacons as those “who fulfil the ministry of prophets and teachers,” which may in fact suggest tension between the “established” offices of bishop and deacon versus the “charismatic” offices of prophet and teacher. As seen by de Halleux, the listing of these two sets of leadership may be confirmation of shared responsibility for the liturgical rituals of the community both by prophets/teachers and bishops/deacons. This raises the question of whether former charismatic ministries were in process of being replaced by later appointed offices or, instead, whether all four forms of management served contemporaneously within the immediate context.12 If one assumes these materials reflect a single composition, then the latter view may in fact be valid. But if one accepts that chap.  15 is secondary to the original composition of the Didache, then it seems likely that charismatic forms of leadership were in process of being replaced by more orderly forms of direction, as seen in the offices of bishop and deacon. One is tempted then to conclude that comments on deacons (and bishops) in the Didache reflect an early understanding of these role(s), though the remarks themselves should not necessarily be seen as instructions that stem directly from the hand of the Didachist. Instead, they likely appear as an emendation that, while certainly early to the tradition, was not otherwise an original concern for the Didachist.

2. Limited or Wider Implications? The actual intended role of the passage within its context remains inconclusive.13 Firstly, it is uncertain to whom the text is addressed. One questions whether the charge to “appoint” (χειροτονέω) bishops and deacons is directed 11  Though see Kurt Niederwimmer, The Didache, trans. Linda M. Maloney, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 200–202. 12  For the latter view, see de Halleux, “Ministers in the Didache,” 312–14. Here Sullivan (From Apostles to Bishops, 90) supposes that prophets, in anticipation of times when they would be absent, likely imposed hands on bishops and deacons for liturgical ministry. No such concern for transmission of spiritual authority is otherwise evident in the text. 13  As Pardee indicates (Genre and Development, 92), despite some understanding that a “teacher” (διδάσκαλος) is being addressed both here and in 13.1 (thus to connect these sub-sections in some minimal sense), “markers are virtually non-existent in 14.1–15.3 – the text simply changes topics without warning.”

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toward the community in general or, instead, to some specific body of leaders. If the former is true, then such directions to a broadly unnamed populace would appear as unique within early messianic literature. If the latter is the case, then one might question who is assumed at the time of writing. In keeping with the idea that the material is not original to the Didache and yet is still relatively early, I argue elsewhere that the entire text (and hence this passage as well) may be originally directed within the community to a third (unnamed) office, that of presbyters. In this case one might assume the assembly held a three-tiered structure of governance similar to that endorsed by Ignatius of Antioch,14 which later becomes the normal framework of ecclesiastical governance. Thus it is to presbyters that the responsibility of appointing bishops and deacons would naturally be directed.15 More recently Alistair Stewart has questioned this premise, specifically arguing for the close association of presbyter–bishops as the foundation for the eventual rise of mono-episcopacy in the later church and thus the audience to which the Didache’s charge is directed. This is certainly feasible, and his argument is directed toward the broader range of relevant Christian texts that might come into consideration here.16 In either case, one does well to reject the idea that it is to the general community itself that the charge to elect deacons (and bishops) derives. By consequence then, it is unnecessary to resolve that the designation of deacon as assumed by the community of the Didache is in some sense unique within the development of the ecclesiastical structure of the early church. It likely reflects some broader understanding shared by analogous communities and, hence, may be informed by available, late first- and early second-century literature. At the same time, if one assumes this charge is made to a specific (unidentified) governing body, then it is possible the entirety of the Didache is likewise addressed to this particular group. In this way one may argue that deacons ­(together with bishops [and presbyters?]) are likewise responsible for the remaining elements found within the Didache, that is, instruction of catechumens (chs. 1–6), supervision of baptism and prayer (chs. 7–10), direction of relationships with outsiders (chs. 11–13), and regulation of community life in general (chs. 14–15). This may be suggested, for example, by the opening word “thus/ therefore” (οὖν)17 in this passage, signifying that the correct assignment of ­bishops and presbyters is viewed as necessary for appropriate forms of worship, as illustrated by the call to “gather together” in chapters 14, if not also the in14  And by association, the work perhaps should likewise be attributed to the region of Antioch. 15  Clayton N. Jefford, “Presbyters in the Community of the Didache,” in Papers Presented at the Tenth International Conference on Patristic Studies Held in Oxford 1987 (ed. Elizabeth A. Livingstone; Leuven: Peeters), 123–26. 16 Alistair C. Stewart, The Original Bishops: Office and Order in the First Christian Communities (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014), 179–81. 17  Translated above as “so.”

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structions on baptism and prayer in chapters 7–10, and the charge to catechumens in chapters 1–5/6. On the surface this seems plausible, and scholars on occasion might well accept this to be the case.18 Nevertheless, the matter is not so clearly defined and presses for additional evidence.

3. Unique in Concept or Typical? Assuming the text of 15.1–2 (whether original or emendation) derives from the late first or early second century, one might profitably compare views from ­parallel Christian literature of the period. Among the writings of the apostolic fathers one finds various references in Ignatius of Antioch and Polycarp of Smyrna from the East, as well as in 1 Clement and the Shepherd of Hermas from the West.19 The view of Ignatius concerning the status of deacon is largely defined in theological terms, indicated by his comment that deacons are “godly” (κατὰ θεὀν) and “entrusted with the ministry of Jesus Christ” (πεπιστευμένων διακονίαν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ), who is eternally with the Father.20 This office, together with those of bishop and presbyter, is “set forth via the mind of Jesus Christ” (ἀποδεδειγμένοις ἐν γνὡμῃ Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ),21 and thus it serves as the standard by which believers may judge whether their own actions are “blameless” (καθαρός).22 Indeed, it is “as the command of God” (ὡς θεοῦ ἐντολήν) that deacons should be respected.23 Ignatius notes as well that deacons (viz. Rhaius Agathopus specifically) have opted “to renounce worldliness” (ἀποτάσσω τῷ βίῳ), 24 being “ministers of Jesus Christ’s mysteries” (τοὺς διακόνους ὄντας μυστηρίων Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ) 25 who are tasked “to attend to God’s community” (ἐκκλησίας θεοῦ ὑπηρέται) beyond simply “being servants of food and drink” (βρωμάτων καὶ ποτῶν εἰσιν διάκονοι).26 From these comments it is clear that in the mind of Ignatius the office of deacon is considerably more than that of “table waiter,” as is otherwise suggested by Acts  6:1–6. Without being specific with regard to their duties, deacons are envisioned as responsible servants in the image of Jesus of Nazareth who act as the risen Christ within the community, presumably fulfilling pastoral functions for those in need, as seen in Matt 18 

See, for example, Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops, 9–10. For more details, see elsewhere in this volume. 20 Ign. Magn. 13.1 and 6.1 respectively. 21 Ign. Phld. proem; 3.1. 22 Ign. Trall. 7.2. 23 Ign. Smyrn. 8.1. Ignatius does not explain from where he derives this observation, whether from scriptural authority, apostolic tradition, or personal revelation. 24 Ign. Phld. 11. 25 Ign. Phld. proem. 26 Ign. Trall. 2.3. 19 

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25:31–40. Most assuredly, however, deacons (together with presbyters) are beholden to the bishop and likely serve in their primary role as stewards to the grace and vision of that office.27 The bishop Polycarp, leading the community at Smyrna, is much more specific – if somewhat less theologically inclined – when he offers instructions to the assembly in Philippi. In Pol. Phil. 5.2, he observes that deacons must be “blameless” (ἄμεμπτος) before God’s righteousness, acting “as servants of God and Christ and not of people” (ὡς θεοῦ καὶ Χριστοῦ διάκονοι καὶ οὐκ ἀνθρώπων).28 As a result, deacons are “not slanderers, insincere, or greedy, but self-controlled in all things, compassionate, diligent, and acting in unity with the truth of the Lord, who became ‘servant’ (διάκονος) of all.” Polycarp’s extended description is far more practical in form than is that of Ignatius, presumably borrowing from the imagery of 2 Timothy (see Constitutions above) and imagining the specifics of how a deacon must perform his duties on a daily basis. At the same time, however, the note that Christ likewise became “servant of all” has overtones of the Apostle Paul’s great kenotic hymn in Phil  2:5–11, especially in v. 7 where one reads that Christ “emptied himself by taking the form of a servant” (ἑαυτὸν ἑκένωσεν μορφὴν δούλου λαβών). The term Polycarp uses here, of course, is “deacon” (διάκονος), which is not Paul’s term “servant/slave” (δοῦλος). Yet Polycarp’s description of the office fits Pauline perspective admirably in its assumptions about the need of deacons to serve fully. So too, in much more theological terms, is the image offered previously by Ignatius, thus suggesting that both authors reflect an Eastern consciousness that worthy leadership is achieved through complete submission to service, first to God and thereafter to God’s human subjects.29 The situation in Rome during this same period features similarities and ­differences. The author of 1 Clement, for example, envisages that deacons (together with bishops) reflect an ancient system of offices, illustrated with the words of Isa 60:17 LXX (“I will appoint your leaders in peace and your bishops in righteousness”),30 but rendered here as “their bishops in righteousness” (ἐπισκόπους αὐτῶν ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ) and “their deacons in faith” (διακόνους αὐτῶν 27  See Thomas A. Robinson, Ignatius of Antioch and the Parting of the Ways (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2009), 95–98, 104–5. 28  Hartog astutely observes how this differs markedly from Ignatius’ belief that deacons “are to ‘please everyone in every respect’” (Ign. Trall. 2.3); so Paul Hartog, Polycarp’s Epistle to the Philippians and the Martyrdom of Polycarp (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 119. 29  I envisage this connection despite Brent’s insistence that substantial differences exist between the perspectives of these leaders. See Allen Brent, “Ignatius and Polycarp: The Transformation of New Testament Traditions in the Context of Mystery Cults,” in Trajectories through the New Testament and the Apostolic Fathers (eds. Andrew F. Gregory and Christopher M. Tuckett; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 325–49. 30  This itself is a lenient translation of the Hebrew, which reads: “I will make your overseers peace and your oppressors righteousness.”

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ἐν πίστει).31 Several chapters earlier the author alludes to the “high priest” (ἀρχιερεύς), “priest” (ἱερεύς), and “Levite” (Λευίτης) as those who have been assigned their proper duties,32 presumably to trace (if only loosely) the lineage of bishop, presbyter, and deacon to ancient Jewish tradition. Both these references clearly are designed to reaffirm for the letter’s audience (i. e., the community at Corinth) that ecclesiastical offices derive from well-established sources. At the same time, however, the author observes that it was the apostles themselves who established bishops and deacons as “their first fruits” (τὰς ἀπαρχὰς αὐτῶν) – “tested by the spirit” (δοκιμάσαντες τῷ πνεύματι) – to lead those who come to believe.33 Thus, without use of duplicate terminology, 1 Clement reflects the same understanding as Ignatius and Polycarp that deacons, having come from the roots of authority (whether Jewish and/or apostolic), are to be respected as worthy leaders approved by divine tradition and the spirit of God. More specific to the role of deacons within the Roman setting is the witness of the Shepherd of Hermas. Here it is explained that deacons are responsible for the maintenance of widows and orphans (Sim. 9.26.2) and are to walk in God’s holiness with purity and reverence (Vis. 3.5.1).34 This image of service is shared with that of bishop, indicating that the functional duties of the two offices are in certain ways commensurate. Apart from this, Hermas is concerned primarily to note that those who occupy the role of deacon (as with other offices) must do so righteously, thus to ensure that the appropriate structure of the eternal church is correct. In this respect, Hermas reflects a similar concern to that found in 1 Clement for the enduring role of the office and its sacrosanct status in the tradition of faith. Otherwise, the author seems unconcerned for the theological nature of what a deacon represents, either with respect to Jewish tradition or divine blessing. Accordingly, one observes how the vision of Ignatius and Polycarp differs markedly from that of 1 Clement and Hermas. The bishops from the East have decidedly more advanced views of the theological dimension of the role of deacon, while Roman authors are decidedly focused on the roots of the office within ancient traditions, bearing core values for ecclesiastical structure. This is not 31 So 1 Clem.  42.5. On this, see especially Bart J. Koet, “Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Understanding the Two-fold Ministry of ἐπισκοποι and διἀκονοι according to 1 Clement (1 Clem.  42:5),” in The Scriptures of Israel in Jewish and Christian Tradition (eds. Bart J. Koet et al.; FS Maarten J. J. Menken: Leiden: Brill, 2013), 345–62. 32  1 Clem.  40.5. The connection between Levites and deacons is made elsewhere in Didascalia 9.3. 33  1 Clem.  42.4. 34 Osiek observes that the image of deacon offered here “could already be evolving in Rome as well as the East into a specific name for those who assist ἐπίσκοποι.” Seen in contrast to apostles and prophets, though, embezzlement and corruption of “church funds intended for the needy” clearly is at issue. See Carolyn Osiek, The Shepherd of Hermas: A Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), 249.

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to say that each grouping of texts shares exactly the same perspective, yet general tendencies that indicate similarities among specific geographical regions are discernable. The Didache typically is assigned to territories in the eastern Mediterranean, sometimes Egypt and Palestine, but most often Antioch or greater Syria. In certain respects, therefore, one might imagine that the views of the Didachist would reflect more prominently the tendencies of Ignatius or Polycarp in their orientation. Significant about the Didache, however, is the lack of any specific, explicit doctrine or dogmatic orientation to help characterise theological functions within the community. The text thus remains unlike the orientation of Ignatius or Polycarp. On the other hand, the Didachist indicates no particular concern to situate the role of deacon within a broader ecclesiastical trajectory or to justify the functions of the office within the larger framework of leadership. In this respect, then, the Didache does not share the concerns of 1 Clement or Hermas. One must subsequently question how the Didache’s perspective fits into any possibly larger framework of theology and structure. It is certainly conceivable that the Didache stands alone in comparison with contemporary literature. If this is the case, then one likely should attribute the work to some backwater situation and see its view of deacons as limited to unique circumstances. Under such suppositions there is no need to assume that anything more can be known about deacons (or bishops) from the view of the Didache other than what derives from a surface reading, that is, that worthy and righteous individuals are to be elected from within the assembly and that their functions are nondescript. In other words, they serve only as a general form of leadership (i. e., “servants”) for the community without specifically defined duties. At the same time the text may actually function with some underlying assumption about the role of deacons that is simply assumed by the person(s) who placed this passage within the text, whether Didachist or editor. If this is indeed the situation, then readers are left with a variety of choices (indicated by parallels from Ignatius, Polycarp, 1 Clement, and Hermas) from which to understand the context of these words. Unfortunately, little helps to define this choice since the Didache itself offers no specific material related to these literary parallels.

4. Summary and Conclusion Having offered a variety of issues, one finds only limited evidence by which to define the nature of deacon from the perspective of the author or editor. This data and the conclusions to be drawn from it may be summarised as follows. On the surface the Didache offers exceedingly few words on deacons, indicating they should be appointed from among those considered worthy accord-

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ing to divine mandate, humble, financially content, tested and found to be true, who will act in the same service as prophets and teachers. They demand respect as those who represent the integrity of the community. While the only known parallels to our primary Greek witness (i. e., the Georgian text and Constitutions) indicate several ecclesiastical emendations to the Didache’s basic reading, this hardly means that what is preserved in the Greek derives from the Vorlage. The immediate context does not demand any particular comment on deacons (or bishops), hence one might suspect its insertion to be later, either as a timely correction by the author or by an editor who faces new issues within the community. At the same time, however, lack of concern to strictly describe these offices suggests that such insertion is not significantly late, likely no more than the early to mid-second century. This timing is significant, since it permits consideration of the text’s vision of deacons from the vantage point of contemporary literature provided by Ignatius and Polycarp in the East and Clement and Hermas in the West. Yet, any lack of concern for theological perspectives (as seen in the first two figures) or for origins and traditions (as seen in the latter) leave the Didache in a unique situation. One questions whether the reader should simply assume elements supported by these authors are likewise of concern to the Didachist or early editor. While this may be the case, no language in the Didache suggests any of these parallels, nor is there evidence to help decide in which direction the author is disposed. Subsequently, the parallels do not offer much by which to explain the author’s views in this respect. Furthermore, the question of context may provide the greatest understanding of the role that deacons held for the community at large. To some extent the use of “thus/therefore” (οὖν) at the beginning of the instruction (as seen above) likely assumes some dependence on the broader situation of public worship found in chap.  14.35 In this way the earlier call of chap.  14 (“when you come together on the Lord’s day and after having acknowledged your offences so that [your] sacrifice may be pure, break bread and give thanks”) might logically beg for some comment concerning those who might be expected to guide and direct such rituals, that is, the “bishops and deacons” of chap.  15 (apart from prophets and teachers mentioned previously). If liturgical rites are demanded, then description of those who will preside must be offered. Here the immediate framework of the text makes sense, whether from the Didachist or later editor, and in this respect the closing words of 14.3 about the authority of the Lord36 would seem a fitting point of departure for an insertion on ecclesiastical leaders.

35 

Thus the position of Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops, 89–90. Didachist here quotes Mal 1:11,14: “In every place and time offer me a pure sacrifice, because I am a great king, says the Lord, and my name is marvelous among the nations.” 36  The

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But one must then ask about the broader structure of these materials, presumably to include at least chaps. 7–13 on baptism, prayer, ritual meals, acceptance of apostles and prophets, and distribution of support for those in need and those in custody of the community’s life of faith. One might assume that if bishops and deacons are responsible for rituals of worship within the community, then likely the same holds true for other aspects of community life, such as baptism, prayer, etc. This may derive logically in comparison with views of ecclesiastical offices found in subsequent Christian literature. At the same time, though, no specific charges are made in this respect, and thus the Didache remains un­ helpful. In the final analysis one likely should see the designation of deacon in the Didache as broadly defined by the evolving nature of that office in the late second-fourth century institutional church, though here in much more primitive form. Indeed, lengthy descriptions of the role are not specifically outlined in the Didache as elsewhere in literature. Yet ancient materials do not necessarily solicit explanation for issues not otherwise questioned. Instead, one might see the role of deacon in this tradition more clearly through the reading of other authors of the period and primarily as the wellspring for imagery found in later forms of ecclesiastical material, such as Apostolic Constitutions, Apostolic Church Order, and Didascalia. Such views are speculative, of course, and they are weakened by doubts concerning their unproven nature.

Deacons (Διάκονοι) and Διακονία in the Writings of Justin and Irenaeus Paul Foster

1. Introduction Both Justin and Irenaeus wrote major Christian works in the second half of the second century. The former composed his Apologies and Dialogue with Trypho around the 150s, or at the midpoint of the second century. By contrast, Irenaeus wrote his two surviving works two to three decades later. Justin was active in the imperial capital, where the size of the city may have resulted in a multiplicity of autonomous, or at least semi-autonomous, Christian communities. Irenaeus was bishop of the provincial city Lyon in Gaul. It is difficult to provide an accurate estimate of the population of the city, but it may have been one to two orders of magnitude smaller than Rome.1 These demographic realities need to be kept in mind when considering the roles of deacons and their forms of service in these two distinct urban centres during the second half of the second century.

2. Justin on Deacons There are only a few extant writings that can be attributed to Justin with any certainty. These are found in three late medieval or early modern manuscripts. The earliest of these, Parisinus graecus 450, is a compendium of writings assigned to Justin and other early Christian authors. It “comprises 467 paper folios measuring 28.5x21.5cm, and was completed according to the colophon, on 11 Sep1  It is frequently stated that the population of ancient Rome reached its maximal point during the second century with more than one million inhabitants. See Peter A. Brunt, Italian Manpower: 225 BC to AD 14 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1971), 376–88; Olivia R. Robinson, Ancient Rome: City Planning and Administration (New York: Routledge, 1992), 8. This figure has been challenged by Glenn Storey on the basis of population density studies of urban locations such as Pompeii and Ostia during the first century. Thus he argues for an estimate of the population of Rome of “roughly 450,000 inhabitants.” Glenn R. Storey, “The Population of Ancient Rome,” Antiquity 71 (1997): 966–78.

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tember 1364 (fol.  461 a).”2 Of the remaining two manuscripts, Claromantanus 82/Philippicus 3081 dated to 2 April 1541, has been shown to be a direct copy of Parisinus graecus 450.3 Although not as widely accepted, there are reasons to suspect that the third manuscript, Ottobonianus 274 (also dated to the middle of the sixteenth century), is another copy of Parisinus graecus 450.4 Therefore only Parisinus graecus 450 provides independent attestation to the writings of Justin. Among its fourteen tractates, only three have any claim to be authentic writings of Justin – the Dialogue with Trypho and the First and Second Apologies.5 Thus in considering Justin’s views on deacons (διάκονος) and service (διακονία), only ideas expressed in these three texts will be considered. The occurrence of the relevant terms in the three authentic writings of Justin is as follows: First Apology: διάκονος twice, διακονία zero; Second Apology: διάκονος zero, διακονία zero; Dialogue with Trypho: διάκονος zero, διακονία zero. Hence the evidence is limited, but the two examples of the use of the term “deacon” contained in the First Apology are instructive in regard to Justin’s view on the function of those who bore such a title in early Christian communities. In the first reference, Justin describes various features of group meetings. This commences with a brief description of a person newly initiated into the community having been baptised, then being brought to a place of meeting with fellow believers (1 Apol. 65.1). In describing the format of such gatherings, Justin states that after the believers have ceased praying they then greet one another with a kiss (1 Apol. 65.2). The next phase of the meeting is the eucharistic rite. It is interesting to note that Justin does not refer to the person leading the rite as a presbyter, πρεσβύτερος, which had become fairly standard terminology by this period. 6 Instead he uses the term προεστῶτος, typically translated as “president.” In the New Testament the term is used only once, in conjunction with πρεσβύτερος, to denote the elders who preside or rule in a good manner, οἱ καλῶς προεστῶτες πρεσβύτεροι (1 Tim  5:17). It is possible that this description contained in 1 Timothy denotes different types of elders, with οἱ καλῶς προεστῶτες πρεσβύτεροι being ruling elders who are praised for their sound leadership.7 2  Dennis Minns and Paul Parvis, Justin, Philosopher and Martyr: Apologies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 3. 3  Philippe Bobichon, «Oeuvres de Justin Martyr: le manuscrit Loan 36/13 de la British Library, un apographe de manuscrit de Paris (Parisinus graecus 450),” Scriptorium 57 (2003): 157–172, 158. 4  Minns and Parvis, Justin, 3. 5  Minns and Parvis argue that the Second Apology was originally part of the First Apology, but came to be considered a separate work when a leaf was shed from the First Apology. Minns and Parvis, Justin, 28–31. 6 See 1 Clem.  4 4:5; 47:6; 2 Clem.  17:3,5; Ign. Magn. 3:1; 6:1; Ign. Trall. 3:1; 12:2; among many other references. 7  Thus Marshall suggests, “it is much more probable that the passage is distinguishing a sub-group of elders who had fuller duties than the others.” I. Howard Marshall, The Pastoral Epistles, (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999), 611.

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However, others have felt that such a distinction is not warranted.8 If the former view is correct, then the term προεστῶτος may function as a title denoting a subgroup of elders, that is, a way of referring to the senior or leading elder. If it does not denote a separate class of elders, then Justin may have been using it as a term that would have more currency with pagan readers in place of the in-group technical term πρεσβύτερος. Either way, Justin conceives of this person being the liturgical leader during the eucharistic rite. Alongside the προεστῶτος or “president” are other figures, οἱ διάκονοι “the deacons.” The manner in which Justin introduces the term, οἱ καλούμενοι παρ᾽ ἡμῖν διάκονοι, “the ones called among us ‘deacons’” (1 Apol. 65.5), suggests that even if the term itself was not a neologism, then the way he was using the term could not be assumed to be familiar to his implied non-Christian readers. Moreover, in contradistinction to Justin describing a singular προεστῶτος or “president” at the Eucharist, he describes a multiplicity of deacons taking part in the ritual. It appears that they functioned primarily as administrants. Their first duty described in this passage was conducted during the Eucharist. Justin notes that after the thanksgiving of thanks was voiced by the “president,” with the accompanying response of “Amen” from the people, the deacons then “give to each of those present to partake of the eucharistized bread and wine and water” (1 Apol. 65.5). The precise mechanics for the sharing of the bread, or for the mixing of water with the wine are not discussed. The deacons’ function is therefore described as being that of distributing the bread and diluted wine.9 The second function of the deacons mentioned by Justin still involved distribution of the bread and wine. However, this tooks place after the service when the bread and wine were distributed to those not in attendance at the gathering: “and to those who are absent they carry away a portion” (1 Apol. 65.5). No explanation is provided for the reason why certain group members might be absent. It is possible to envisage a number of scenarios, many of which would not be mutually exclusive. However, what Justin emphasises is that the role of the deacon extended beyond the confines of the eucharistic gathering itself. Moreover, partaking of the bread and wine was considered suitably important that fellow group members were to partake of the elements on a weekly basis even if they were not able to attend the group meeting with fellow believers. 8  Towner feels the only distinction is between elders who discharge there duties well, and those who do not. Philip H. Towner, The Letters to Timothy and Titus (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 361. 9  There is much debate about the precise nature of the reference here and in 1 Apol. 65.3 to the contents of the cup, or “cups,” if one is willing to amend the text. In 1 Apol. 65.3 the text literally reads, “a cup of water and mixture.” Here the explanation of Minns and Parvis seems preferable. The president is presented with “bread and a cup, presumably already prepared” (1 Apol. 65.3). Furthermore, they hypothesise that it is not unreasonable to suppose that the deacons brought these elements to the president in order that he may offer thanks over them. See Minns and Parvis, Justin, 254–55, n.  7.

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The role of deacons in distributing the eucharistic elements to absent believers is further emphasised in the second of Justin’s depictions of those described as διάκονοι. Thus Justin reiterates that “there is a distribution and partaking of the eucharistized elements to each one, and it is sent to those who are not present by means of the deacons” (1 Apol. 67.5). This conveys the same information as contained in 1 Apol. 65.5, even though slightly different language is employed. What these twin descriptions do offer is the possibility of considering the way in which such a distribution was carried out given what is known of the structure of Christian communities in Rome in the second century. In what he describes as a “fractionation,” Peter Lampe views communities of believers in Rome as dispersed and having separate local identities in the city. Thus he argues, “[i]n the pre-Constantinian period, the Christians of the city of Rome assembled in premises that were provided by private persons and that were scattered across the city (fractionation).”10 Within this context Justin’s description of deacons carrying the eucharistic elements to absent community members might not involve such figures travelling across the entire urban area. The discrete communities may have encompassed smaller and far more localised areas. Discussing the texts in Justin that refer to deacons distributing the Eucharist to absent community members, Lampe makes the following observation: Must we think here only of sick or incapacitated members of one’s own house-church community? The text does not compel such a limited interpretation. It is conceivable also that with the words “those who do not attend” members of other house-church communities in the city are meant.11

Notwithstanding this statement, and while acknowledging that the text does not absolutely “compel” the interpretation rejected by Lampe, it does seem more probable that deacons primarily carried the eucharistic elements to members of their own communities. The reasons for this could be wider than those listed by Lampe – illness or incapacity. Rather, if members were in servitude they may not have had the opportunity to leave the domus of their masters. In fact another of Lampe’s comments, which might provide a more accurate description of the independence of Justin’s community, may tell against his suggestion that the deacons carried bread and wine to members of other housechurch groups. He states, “[w]e have to consider that Justin’s circle existed very autonomously, as a free school, an organization independent from the rest of the house-church communities of the city.”12 Such independence between house-­ churches does not necessarily imply any degree of antagonism.13 Instead such 10  Peter Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries (London: T&T Clark, 2003), 364. 11 Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus, 386. 12 Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus, 377. 13  While houses may have been the predominant type of meeting places for early believers, as Adams has correctly observed, there were other types of spaces in which Christian com-

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localised and autonomous communities may reflect the geographical spread of the city both in its urban and suburban areas. Further, the lack of larger spaces may have been a limiting on the size of Christian meetings. Consequently, the small but scattered nature of early Christian communities, and their autonomous existence may have aided the survival of the movement. For if one group was punished, then the members may not have possessed knowledge of other groups in the city. Given the dispersed structure of multiple Christian communities in Rome around the middle of the second century, deacons need to be understood as operating in that context. Communities may have comprised between twenty to fifty individuals. If that estimate is correct, then the deacons could have distributed the eucharistic elements to absent members with relative ease and probably without having to travel great distances. However, given the relatively autonomous nature of these early Christian groups in Rome, it is difficult to assess whether the role Justin describes for deacons distributing bread and wine to absent believers was commonplace practice, or whether it was one of the distinctive features of his own Christian community. The lack of corroborating sources means that the most that can be inferred with relative confidence is that in Justin’s community, deacons regularly carried the eucharistic elements to members of the group who for whatever reason were unable to attend the eucharistic ritual in person. Therefore, in the authentic writings of Justin, dating from the second century, two related tasks are described as being carried out by deacons. First during the regular community gathering the deacons assisted the figure whom Justin calls the προεστῶτος, “president.” After the act of giving thanks over the bread and wine the deacons then distributed the elements to the assembled community members (1 Apol. 65.5). The second related activity took place after those gathered members had partaken of the bread and the wine – and presumably after the conclusion of the service although Justin does not make that point explicitly. At that point, the deacons carried the bread and wine away to any group members who had not been present at the group meeting.

3. Irenaeus on Deacons and Διακονία Only two genuine works of Irenaeus survive. These were most likely written twenty-five to thirty years after the writings of Justin. The earliest of these, probably written sometime around 180–185, is commonly known as Adversus Haereses or Against the Heresies, but also was given the longer title Refutation munities met. See Edward Adams, The Earliest Christian Meeting Places: Almost Exclusively House? (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), esp.  198–202.

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and Overthrow of the Knowledge Falsely So Called. The second extant work is Demonstration (Epideixis) of the Apostolic Preaching, which survives only in one Armenian manuscript. However, Eusebius of Caesarea gives the titles of six other works, quoting from some of them.14 However, the claim made by Eusebius that Irenaeus wrote a treatise against Marcion (HE IV.25) appears to be an inference drawn from Irenaeus’ statement that he intended to produce such a work (see HE V.8–9; Haer. I.25.2; Haer. III.12.16). Lastly, there are a number of fragments of dubious authenticity written in Greek, Syriac, and Armenian which have been attributed to Irenaeus.15 A further problem that arises, which hampers an analysis of Irenaeus’ use of διάκονος and διακονία terminology, is the fact that the majority of his surviving writings are extant only in versional witnesses. Therefore, apart from some Greek fragments, Irenaeus’ writings survive primarily in Latin and Armenian translations. For the Adversus Haereses there are only two surviving Greek fragments. The first is P.Oxy 405, which is dated on the basis of palaeography to the beginning of the third century and which contains III.9.2–3. Second, there exists a Jena papyrus, most likely early fourth century, which contains portions of V.3.2–13.1. Neither of these surviving Greek fragments contain material that provides evidence for Irenaeus’ use of διάκονος and διακονία terminology. By contrast, a complete Latin edition of all five books survives as does an Armenian version of books IV and V, along with fragments from the other books.16 Irenaeus’ second work, Demonstration, survives in the same Armenian manuscript that contains books IV and V of Adversus Haereses.17 This means that there is no extant witness to Irenaeus’ use of “deacon” or “service” terminology in the original Greek. This is less of a problem for references to “deacon,” since the Latin term diaconus functions as a technical term and almost certainly renders the Greek word διάκονος. It is more difficult to identify examples of “service” terminology in either Latin or Armenian that may be direct translations of διακονία terminology. This is because in contrast to the almost one-to-one correspondence that exists between διάκονος and diaconus, such a correspondence does not exist between διακονία and only a single Latin or Armenian term. 14  For further details see Irenaeus: Life, Scripture, Legacy (eds. Paul Foster and Sara Parvis; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), xii–xiii. The titles of these six works are: (1) Against Blastus, On Schism (HE V.20.1); (2) Against Florinus, On the Monarchy, or On the Fact That God Is Not the Maker of Evil (HE V.20.1, 4–8); (3) On the Ogdoad (HE V.20.1, 2); (4) A letter to Victor of Rome (HE V.24.11, 12–17); (5) On Knowledge (HE V.26); and (6) A book of various discourses (HE V.26). 15  The list of these fragments is found in CPG 1 (1983), numbers 1311–17. 16  For fuller details see Irenaeus: Life, Scripture, Legacy (eds. Foster and Parvis), xi. 17 Irenaeus’ Demonstration does not appear to contain any relevant data for this study. There are no references to the office of “deacon” and no cases where the text appears to be translating the underlying term διακονία.

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In Adversus Haereses, Irenaeus makes reference to deacons on two occasions. Both of these references occur without any gloss explaining the functions that were carried out by such office holders. In his description of the deceitful and devilish activities of a certain Marcus, Irenaeus describes Marcus as a cad who uses love-potions to entice and defile female believers. Irenaeus recounts the following case: A sad example of this occurred in the case of a certain Asiatic, one of our deacons, who had received him (Marcus) into his house. His wife, a woman of remarkable beauty, fell a victim both in mind and body to this magician, and, for a long time, travelled about with him. At last, when, with no small difficulty, the brethren had converted her, she spent her whole time in the exercise of public confession, weeping over and lamenting the defilement which she had received from this magician. (Ad. Haer. I.13.5).

The woman in question is not named, but rather described as the wife of a deacon. Irenaeus uses of this term, without any explanation, suggests that it could be presumed to be widespread and well-known terminology at least among his anticipated readers. In the extant Latin the relevant portion of text reads, ut et diaconus quidam eorum qui sunt in Asia nostri. It appears that “diaconus” originated as a Greek loanword taken over into Latin. It corresponds to the Greek term διάκονος, and denotes a specific role in early Christian communities. The earliest documented usage of this term in the Jesus movement is found in Paul’s letters to the Romans and to the Philippians. In Romans the term is applied to Phoebe who is described as “a deacon of the church in Cenchrea” (Rom  16:2). In Philippians the reference is more generalised, where Paul and Timothy greet all the believers in Philippi alongside the bishops/overseers and deacons: σὺν ἐπισκόποις καὶ διακόνοις (Phil  1:1). There are four further occurrences of the term in 1 Timothy (1 Tim  3:8,10,12,13). In those contexts the specific duties of the office of deacon are not described, rather the author of 1 Timothy is concerned to instruct deacons that their moral behaviour should correspond to the status of their office.18 In the passage that occurs in the first book of Adversus Haereses, Irenaeus sees a misalignment between the foolish decision of the unnamed deacon, the moral behaviour of his wife, and the expected wisdom and moral behaviour that befits the diaconal office. Irenaeus may have the ethical qualities for deacons that are described in 1 Timothy in mind when he laments the case of the Asiatic deacon permitting Marcus to enter his house. The second reference to the office of deacon is found in book III of Adversus Haereses. In the context of describing the teachings of the apostles, Irenaeus recounts what he understands to be a text that narrates the appointment of deacons. Thus he states: 18  This point is also mentioned by I.H. Marshall when he states, “descriptions of function are absent from the deacon code in 1 Tim  3. The lists are mainly concerned with character.” I. Howard Marshall, The Pastoral Epistles (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999), 487.

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Stephen, who was chosen the first deacon by the apostles, and who, of all men, was the first to follow the footsteps of the martyrdom of the Lord, being the first that was slain for confessing Christ (Ad. Haer. III.12.10).

Here the story of the appointment of deacons is drawn from Acts  6:1–6, where Stephen is the first named among the newly constituted group of apostolic helpers (Acts  6:5). Significantly, although Stephen is not named as a deacon in Acts, Irenaeus is already aware of the tradition that identifies Stephen as the first deacon among the initial seven appointed to that role. Stephen is identified in a few broadly contemporary sources. For instance, in the martyrdom account concerning the deaths of believers at Lyon and Vienne, Stephen is presented as the prototypical and perfect martyr: καὶ ὑπὲρ τῶν τὰ δεινὰ διατιθέντων ηὔχοντο, καθάπερ Στέφανος ὁ τέλειος μάρτυς· (Epis. Ecclesiarum apud Lugdunum et Viennam, 2.5.5).19

However, he is not identified as a deacon. It may be the case that Irenaeus is the first extant source to name Stephen as a deacon and to cast him explicitly in the role of being the first deacon. This identification is made on the basis of the account of Stephen’s appointment in Acts  6 , but in that context he is not described use the technical term “deacon.” The use of διακονία terminology, as mentioned earlier, is more difficult to track due to the various ways the term might be rendered with Latin words. Equivalents such as “ministerium” or “ministratio” may well render from this Greek word group. One fairly clear cut example involves Irenaeus’ discussion of the varieties of spiritual gifts. He writes, “there are diversities of gifts, differences of administrations (ministerium)” (Ad. Haer. II.28.7). Here Irenaeus is citing Paul’s comments made to the Corinthians concerning spiritual gifts: Διαιρέσεις δὲ χαρισμάτων εἰσίν […] καὶ διαιρέσεις διακονιῶν εἰσιν (1 Cor  12:4–5). In this context it can be seen that the Latin translator has employed “ministerium” as an equivalent for what was almost certainly the underlying Greek term διακονία. However, Irenaeus’ argument is different from that of Paul. He is refuting the notion that those who “still dwell on earth, and have not yet sat down on his throne” (Ad. Haer. II.28.7) can claim to have perfect knowledge. While acknowledging the variety of spirit-given gifts and of services, he goes on to cite Paul say that “we know in part, and prophecy in part.” Thus the gifts of the spirit are not proof of perfect spiritual knowledge. In this context Irenaeus does little to clarify what he might have meant by the term διακονία, apart from it referring to the variety of the types of service within the believing community.20 19  Herbert Musurillo, Acts of the Christian Martyrs, vol. II (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972), 82–83. 20  For a discussion of the meaning of the term in its Pauline context and the way it func-

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Irenaeus employs the verbal form ministro in the context of describing the ministry or “service” of the church on behalf of others and the imitation of Christ. For Irenaeus these acts of service are not simply imitatio Christi, they are also a continuation of the work of Christ. He states: Wherefore, also, those who are in truth his disciples, receiving grace from him, do in his name perform [miracles], so as to promote the welfare of other men, according to the gift which each one has received from him. […] It is not possible to name the number of the gifts which the Church, [scattered] throughout the whole world, has received from God, in the name of Jesus Christ, who was crucified under Pontius Pilate, and which she exerts day by day for the benefit of the Gentiles, neither practising deception upon any, nor taking any reward from them on account of such miraculous interpositions. For as she has received freely from God, freely also does she minister to others. (Ad. Haer. II.32.7)

The reference to the church ministering, ministro, to others, is likely in the original Greek of the text to be written with the Greek verb διακονέω. Here the acts of service or ministry are attributed to the church as a collected whole, not to individuals bearing the title διάκονος, or any other specific office or hierarchical position in the group’s communal structure. Irenaeus can also speak of non-human entities as performing service. In rebutting Basilides’ assertion that the prophets were inspired by different gods when they proclaimed their messages, Irenaeus makes a strong statement that the apostles, prophets, and other genuine revelatory media all are devoted to the praise of one divine being: Now, that the preaching of the apostles, the authoritative teaching of the Lord, the announcements of the prophets, the dictated utterances of the apostles, and the ministration of the law – all of which praise one and the same Being, the God and Father of all, and not many diverse beings, nor one deriving his substance from different gods or powers, but [declare] that all things [were formed] by one and the same Father. (Ad. Haer. II.35.4)

The final phrase in this list of speech-acts, “the ministration (ministratio) of the law,” is again a further example where the underlying Greek term is likely to be some form of the noun διακονία. While one might assume that these communicative acts might more naturally be seen as having a human referent, Irenaeus interprets their function differently in this context. These verbal declarations uttered by the apostles, the Lord, the prophets, and contained in the law, function according to Irenaeus to render praise to one divine being. Consequently, they are seen as speaking in unison and therefore providing a unifying witness to the one being whom Irenaeus describes as “the God and Father of all.” There is little consideration or reflection on how the ministration or service of the law operates to achieve this end, and no reflection on the form of service the Torah tions in Paul’s argument see Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 931–32.

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performs. Instead the διακονία language is employed in a generic way simply as an unspecified description of the mechanics of the activity of the law in rendering praise to God. For Irenaeus, this provides sufficient evidence to make his case that there is one divine being, and not a multitude of divine entities. While this argument may have satisfied its author, it is debatable whether Basilides or his followers would have seen Irenaeus’ arguments as being in the least aspect persuasive.

4. Conclusion: Deacons and Διακονία in Justin and Irenaeus Writing in the second half of the second century, both Justin and Irenaeus mention the role of deacons, yet only Irenaeus appears to employ the term διακονία.21 In fact both writers refer to deacons twice. The later of the two authors, Irenaeus, makes his references to deacons only in passing. First he refers to a certain Asiatic deacon, whose wife fell victim to Marcus, a character whom Irenaeus portrays as a charlatan, magician, and a heretic. It is unclear whether Irenaeus views the defilement of the woman as particularly heinous because she is the wife of a deacon, or whether that detail is intended to provide verisimilitude and greater moral warning to the story. If it is the former, then Irenaeus may be alluding to the qualities expected from both ἐπίσκοπος and διάκονος, as described in the Pastoral Epistles. Specifically, deacons are to be “husbands of one wife, good managers of their children and of their own households” (1 Tim  3.12). While it has been suggested that good management of one’s household is a demonstration of the ability to be a suitable administrator alongside the ἐπίσκοπος,22 this does not appear to be the chief concern. However, the concern in the Pastoral Epistles appears to be focused on the moral rectitude of those holding the office of deacons. If Irenaeus has the injunction from 1 Timothy in mind, then it appears to be the case that he is fundamentally concerned with the ethical standing of those who occupy the diaconal office, not with their management skills. Thus as Mounce observes, the description in 1 Timothy that enjoins deacons to be “good managers” or to “manage well” καλῶς, implies “not only achieving the proper results but doing it the right way.”23 Therefore, with21  As noted above, Irenaeus use of the term διακονία will remain at best an inference, unless more extensive Greek manuscripts of his works come to light. Notwithstanding this translational problem, there is one strong example where the Latin version of Adversus Haereses cites 1 Cor  12:4–5. In that Pauline passage the apostle uses the term διακονία, and it is almost certain that the original text of Ad. Haer. II.28.7 would have likewise employed the term διακονία. 22  Towner suggests, “[t]he concern for this management ability suggests that deacons carried out significant leadership duties in service to the overseers, or perhaps (if overseers supervised a cluster of house churches in a locality) on a par with overseers but in a more limited sphere (the house church).” Towner, Timothy, 267. 23  William D. Mounce, Pastoral Epistles (Nashville: Nelson, 2000), 205.

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out describing exactly what they do, Irenaeus expects deacons to be morally upright individuals with families not prone to ethical lapses. The second time Irenaeus refers to a deacon, is when he names “Stephen, who was chosen the first deacon by the apostles” (Ad. Haer. III.12.10). The striking thing is that despite the description in Acts not naming Stephen as a deacon,24 Irenaeus does so. Whether this is an inference he draws himself, or whether he draws on earlier traditions that may have done so is unclear. Presumably, whenever this link was made it was based at least in part on the narrative details that the seven were appointed to alleviate the apostles of the task of “serving,” διακονία, or distributing food to the widows. Irenaeus uses διακονία terminology in various contexts. However, his use is generalised as does not appear to convey any specifically Christian nuance, and in fact contains no explicit connection with the office of deacons. Justin’s extant writings do not employ the term διακονία. He does, however, use the term διάκονος on two occasions. Unlike Irenaeus, he provides insight into at least some of the duties carried out by those who held that office, at least around the middle of the second century in Rome. Deacons are portrayed as people who assist the “president” in the eucharistic rite. Two aspects of their role are described. First, within the liturgical service of the gathered community, deacons distribute the bread and wine that has been blessed by the president to the assembled believers. Second, at some point afterwards, the deacons take the elements of bread and wine to those community members who had not been present at the service. Thus, for Justin, deacons played an important role in the liturgical ceremonies of the assembled believers, but also had a further role beyond the worship service. They kept absent members connected to the gathered community by taking the Eucharistic elements to them. In this respect they promoted group maintenance and stability. It is not possible to provide a global account of the role and functions of “deacons” based upon the combined testimony of Justin and Irenaeus. Nor is it even possible to state whether the duties of the office were fairly fixed across Christian communities in the second half of the second century.25 The reason for that is the lack of evidence. However, both authors provide an intriguing snapshot of some aspects of the diaconal role. For Justin, deacons assisted with the distribution of the eucharistic elements after they had been blessed, both in the immediate context of the gathered liturgical service and beyond it by taking the bread 24  As Peterson correctly observes, “[t]he Seven (see 21:8) are set apart for a ministry of ‘serving tables’, but they are not called “deacons” and Luke’s intention cannot simply have been to describe how the order of deacons originated (see 1 Tim  3:8–13).” David G. Peterson, The Acts of the Apostles (Nottingham: Apollos, 2009), 228. 25  Ignatius provides a greater volume of references to deacons in his seven authentic letters of the so-called Middle recension. However, his concern is more on the role of the ἐπίσκοπος “bishop,” and the presbyters and deacons are seen in some ways as a supporting cast, who assist the bishop in the leadership of the Christian community.

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and wine to absent members. In this way they performed an important function in ensuring that those who were unable to attend the collective meetings nonetheless maintained a sense of connection with the group. By contrast, Irenaeus reveals nothing of the specific duties of deacons. His two references reveal his understanding of the presumed origin of the office, and the ethical requirements for those who hold such a position and for their families. For the former, he might be dependent on what had become an almost aetiological interpretation of Acts  6:1–7. By contrast, the negative example of the Asiatic deacon who had allowed Marcus into his home with the resultant defilement of the deacon’s wife is presumably a negative demonstration of the moral discernment required from those who hold diaconal office. Therefore, in the second half of the second century deacons were expected to be individuals who exemplified the moral behaviour expected from Christian leaders, and one of their key functions was in assisting the main leaders of a Christian community in the distribution of the Eucharist.

Deacons in Acts of Thomas and Related Early Syriac Literature Serafim Seppälä

What can we learn about the function of deacons and the character of diaconate in the early Christian East with the help of the text known as Acts of Thomas (AT)? The question is not as marginal or unfruitful as it may seem at first glance. It is also worth pondering because Klijn’s exhaustive commentary on AT1 says almost nothing on the subject.2

1. Some Background Remarks For a long time, the wide corpus of early Christian apocryphal literature on the apostles remained largely forgotten somewhere between the theological disciplines. For exegesis, the texts were too late; for Church history, they were too fictive; and for systematic theology, the texts often appeared too imaginative – too much like novels and not rich enough in dogmatic ideas. In the last few decades, however, a slow change has taken place. Church historians have shown 1  Albertus Frederik Johannes Klijn, The Acts of Thomas. Introduction, Text and Commentary (Leiden: Brill, 22003). 2 The editions and translations consulted in this paper include Amir Harrak (tr.), The Acts of Mār Mārī the Apostle (henceforth AMM). Writings from the Greco-Roman World (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005). The edition of Acts of Thomas in William Wright, Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles: Edited from Syriac Manuscripts with English translations (London: Williams and Norgate, 1871; Reprint: Philo, 1968). The Greek text of Acts of Thomas in Richard Adelbert Lipsius & Max Bonnet, Acta Apostolorum Apocrypha II.2 (Leipzig, 1903; re-edition: Darmstadt, 1959). A translation of the Greek text in James K. Elliott, The Apocryphal New Testament (Oxford: Clarendon, 1993), 439–511. For Apostolic Tradition, see La Tradition Apostolique (SC 11; Paris: Cerf, 1984). For Doctrina Addai, see George Phillips (tr.), The Doctrine of Addai the Apostle (London: Trübner & Co., 1876). The Teaching of Addai (ed. George Phillips, trans. George Howard; Society of Biblical Literature Texts and Translations 16, Early Christian Literature Series 4; Chicago: Scholars, 1981). For Odes of Solomon, see Rendel Harris & Alphonse Mingana, The Odes and Psalms of Solomon Vol. I: The Text with Facsimile reproductions (Manchester, 1916). The Odes and Psalms of Solomon Vol. II: The Translation with introduction and notes (Manchester, 1920).

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more interest in the Apocryphal material, due to clues it provides on the diversity of early Christianity. The advantage and disadvantage of this approach is that when texts are used as witnesses for diversity, it becomes rather irrelevant whether they originate from the mainstream or from curious groups somewhere on the margins. Consequently, even the tiniest group becomes relevant if it has happened to leave a literary trace of itself. Correspondingly, the lack of dogmatic ideas in the Apocryphal literature has been reconsidered. In various ways, imaginative narratives may be even more fruitful than purely dogmatic accounts. Fictional narratives about the apostles may portray ideals and models of the heroi of the new religion as seen in retrospect, offering valuable perspectives on diverse fields such as ethics, anthropology and, at times, even ecclesiology or other dogmatic issues. In addition, the texts are relevant documentaries of the context in which they were born, occasionally revealing contemporary ideals and practices, either explicitly or implicitly, and providing insights into various early Christian milieux. Certainly, there are problems with the relevance and authority of the apocryphal literature on the apostles, given that the authors and circles around them remain unknown in practically all cases, and this fact alone makes these works non-normative in ecclesial usage. Customarily, the NT Apocrypha is dated roughly to the third or fourth centuries – at times with no other criteria but a vague sense that the first or second century sounds too early and the fifth perhaps too late.

2. Acts of Thomas as Literature Acts of Thomas is an exceptional case among the Apocryphal Acts in several ways. Firstly, it can be dated in quite a precise manner, between 220–240.3 Even if the text may not give much historical information on apostolic times, it is all the more interesting to consider what was thought about the apostles and apostolic Christianity during the 220’s–230’s, and what kind of contemporary ideals and practices are reflected in the text. Secondly, the structure and compo3  The dating is based on particular details as well as observations of a more general nature. A loose terminus post quem may be taken from the fact that AT has a couple of Roman names (Tertia, Marcia), since Roman names are known to be taken into use by Edessene kings in the early third century. Secondly, a delegation from India visited Edessa around 220, which must have aroused interest on India. The terminus ante quem is based, firstly, on the general observation that the world of AT is that of small local monarchies – an era which ended in Edessa in 241 when it became a colonia of Rome. Secondly, one may interpret from Eusebius (Hist. Eccl. III, 1:1–3) that Origen (d. 251) knew about AT, albeit this is far from certain. Finally, Ephrem the Syrian, who lived in Edessa in the 360’s, mentioned that the disciples of Bardaisan (d. 222) wrote down stories on apostles. For more discussion, see Jan Bremmer, The Apocryphal Acts of Thomas (Leuven: Peeters, 2001), 74–79.

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sition of the text is twofold, and the same applies to its theological contribution. The work consists of two rather divergent elements: an imaginative frame story of simple prose is seasoned with liturgical and hymnographic material embedded in the story and interrupting the narrative repeatedly.4 The hymns and prayers are full of profound dogmatic insights from the early Christian East, but for the theme of the present paper they are less relevant. Due to the eccentric and exotic details, most of which occur in the Greek version,5 the doctrinal status of the text has been subject to many kinds of speculations. Today very few scholars would identify AT as Gnostic, “even though it is often quite heterodox,” as Shoemaker recently stated. 6 For the argument of this paper, however, it is rather irrelevant whether the more heterodox Greek readings or the more orthodox Syriac readings are the original ones, as the latter ones in any case represent very early Christian readings and practices that we are interested in. Almost certainly, AT comes from Edessa, which was the centre of Syriac-­ speaking Christianity in north-west Mesopotamia in the early centuries and for hundreds of years to come. In that sense, we are not dealing with a text from margins: Edessa stood out as a centre of Christian intellectualism, spirituality, and pilgrimage.7 4  It goes without saying that these may combine various sources. As for the hymns, it is evident at first glance that the famous Hymn of the Pearl differs substantially from all the other hymns. 5  The most interesting differences between the Syriac and Greek versions deal with baptism (AT 25–27), Eucharist (AT 157), hell (AT 55), and ethics (AT 85). Moreover, in the Greek version there is a feminine goddess figure that appears in three places (AT 6, 7, 133). Scholars have often failed to notice that she is a most detached figure in relation to the narrative as a whole, and this makes her more likely an interpolation than an original reading. (However that may be, feminine expressions were used in Syriac on the Holy Spirit; see Aphrahat, Demonstrations 18:10 and Odes of Solomon 19:3–4.) Perhaps the most striking detail, how­ ever, is the use of water in the Eucharist instead of wine in the Greek text (AT 120–121, 132– 133, 152). Scholars have been so enthusiastic to see this as the original reading that they have failed to see that in the narrative story itself, finding wine for the Eucharist is a central motive in AT 120, which alone makes it fully possible that “water” is an interpolation. Finally, it is rather obvious that the Greek text as a whole has been translated (probably even twice) from the Syriac, which clearly shows from the syriacisms and mistaken translations (for example, AT 90–91). This makes a heterodox original a purely hypothetical construction. More details in my monograph plus Finnish translation, Tuomaan teot (Helsinki: Suomen Eksegeettinen Seura, 2006). 6 Stephen Shoemaker, Mary in Early Christian Faith and Devotion (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016), 72. 7  The number of places of pilgrimage, as well as the amount of literary works written in Edessa was almost unparalleled, but subsequently the Christians of Edessa were oppressed, and massacred, and consequently forgotten. For the exceptional history of Edessa as a Christian holy city, see Judah Segal, Edessa: The Blessed City (Oxford University Press, 1970; ­Gorgias reprint, 2005). The last Christians of Edessa were massacred during the genocide of Armenians and Assyrians in 1915.

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3. Vocabulary: Alternatives and Solutions How to start talking about diakonia in Syriac? The question is an elementary one, due to the fact that Syriac is the eastern dialect of the Aramaic language, the western variant of which was spoken by Jesus Christ and the apostles in Galilee and Jerusalem. Obviously, Aramaic practices and conventions had a strong effect on the earliest Christian Greek; the multi-layered semitisms of the New Testament do not represent only biblicisms, hebraisms, and literary influences, but also echoes of a spoken Aramaic background.8 In Syriac and Aramaic, there are two roots for “serving” with rather distinctive profiles. Firstly, there is ᶜBD, familiar from other Semitic languages, including Hebrew and Arabic, referring rather widely to work and servitude, including slavery. Secondly, there is the root ŠMŠ that refers to serving in a particular cultic sense.9 The root ŠMŠ has an exceptionally rich and colourful history in Semitic languages. Given that the roots of XZX-type (i. e. with identical first and third radicals) are extremely rare in Semitic languages, it might perhaps even be a very ancient loan word from a non-Semitic language, but that possibility does not concern us here. More likely, the XZX-type is an outcome of the alterations and variations between the Semitic sounds for s, š, and ś. What is not irrelevant, however, is that in Akkadian and Assyrian šamaš, an absolute form of šamšu, referred to the Sun God who was in charge of justice and the growth of crops.10 Even today, the basic words for sun are derived from this root in both Arabic (šamsu) and Hebrew (šemeš). It is from this sun context that the root derived its spiritual functions of cultic serving and related prayerful activity. As it happens, this is also reflected in the biblical text, for the corresponding Aramaic verb šammeš occurs in Dan 7:10, in which “thousands of thousands are serving (‫שְּמׁשּוֵּנּה‬ ַׁ ְ ‫ ”)י‬God. The verbal usage of ŠMŠ, however, seems to be lacking from Akkadian/Assyrian as we know it, which may indicate that the cultic meaning for the verb is a Jewish invention, or perhaps an adaption of vernacular usage in Babylonia. The cultic usage of the root continued in Mish­ naic, Talmudic, and in medieval Hebrew, in which šammāš stands for the sacris8  The Aramaic influence as such is self-evident, due to its position as spoken vernacular in NT times. It is among the oddities of modern scholarship that in the multitude of exegetical studies very little has been said about it. This is undoubtedly due to the fact that to discuss the matter one should have an active knowledge of Aramaic, which in turn would imply an exceptional amount of learning. And even in the best case, speculations on the original Aramaic expressions behind the Greek wordings would be rather hypothetical. Matthew Black’s An Aramaic Approach to the Gospels and Acts (1967) is the classic to begin with. 9  Likewise, the Armenian “deacon,” սարկավագ (sarkavag), refers to “servant”; the term is an ancient loan word, the origin of which had already been long forgotten in antiquity. 10  Simo Parpola and Robert M. Whiting, Assyrian-English-Assyrian Dictionary (Helsinki: State Archives of Assyria, 2007), 268.

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tan in the synagogue (see Aramaic gabbai), one who could serve in various functions such as reading the Torah. To sum up, the verbs and participles derived from the root ŠMŠ have a strong cultic connotation that seems to have its origins in ancient Sun-worship. Therefore, the very first step is rather determinative. When the early Christians spoke about deacons, did they need a word for a practical servant or cultic servant? For early Christian Western Aramaic, there are no proper sources available, but the Syriac answer is unambiguous: the basic word for deacon, me šamme šānā, is a derivation of ŠMŠ and accordingly has strong cultic associations. This is obvious from the heyday of Syriac literature (4th to 7th centuries), when the verb šammeš was used in various liturgical and ecclesiastical as well as practical senses:11 1) to serve in a practical sense →  servants’ actions such as waiting, attending, supplying 2) to serve in the cultic sense →  to chant, to recite 3) to serve in an administrative sense →  to administer, to perform the duties of an office (bishop, priest) In the synchronic sense, and perhaps diachronically as well, the third one is a derivative of the second one, for liturgical serving is at the core of any ecclesiastical office.12 But how far back in time one can stretch this logic is a rather complicated question. As an early composition containing even earlier materials, AT is an important part of that discussion. The word for deacon is a participle of the paʿʿel conjugation and has a taste of continuing action: one who repeats a prayer endlessly and worships continuously is a me šamme šānā par excellence! It is telling that me šamme šānā functions also as a translation for λειτουργός, as witnessed by Syriac translations of the word in Rom  13:6,13 15:16,14 and Phil  2:25, as well as usages with more cultic connotations in Hebrews.15 This does not mean that me šamme šānā has two different meanings (διάκονος and λειτουργός), however; rather, it shows that to 11  The meanings given are the ones in Payne Smith’s Syriac Dictionary (585–86), arranged here according to the logic of their use. 12  For this reason, even a priest is called m e šamm e šānā (on rare occasions); a m e šamm e šānā is a minister of sacred things. However, one may also note that even the ancient cultic use referring to the Sun has been preserved in šemšānāyā, Syriac for Sun-worshipper, i. e. Yezidi. 13  “authorities are God’s servants (λειτουργοὶ γὰρ Θεοῦ εἰσιν).” 14  “to be a minister of Christ Jesus (εἰς τὸ εἶναί με λειτουργὸν Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ) to the Gentiles.” 15  “He makes his angels spirits, and his servants (λειτουργοὺς) flames of fire” (Heb 1:7). Christ “sat down at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven, and [he] serves in the sanctuary (τῶν ἁγίων λειτουργὸς), the true tabernacle set up by the Lord, not by a mere human being.” (Heb 8:1–2).

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be a διάκονος also means being a λειτουργός. Yet this fact does not help us much, due to the wide usages of λειτουργός in NT times. In the Syriac NT, me šamme šānā translates διάκονος in the cases related to specific ministry, such as Phil  1:1 and 1 Tim  3:12, but also in those referring to an ordinary servant, as well as in a more general spiritual sense.16 This does not tell much more than that there is a tendency to favour word-by-word translation. In the case of the epistles, there is no consensus on the date of the translation. Correspondingly, verbal usages of διακονεῖν are translated with derivatives of ŠMŠ,17 and διακονίᾳ as a rule is tešmeštā.18 Martha serving Jesus in Luke 10:40 has tešmeštā for διακονεῖν. Moreover, tešmeštā is also used for perhaps the most explicit cultic term there is in the NT, ἱερατεύειν (“fulfilling the priestly service”) in the case of Zacharias (Luke 1:8). It may be noted that in the case of Phoebe in Rom  16:1, the Syriac text has a feminine me šamme šānītā (Gr. διάκονον). Perhaps the most interesting case, however, is διακονία τῆς λειτουργίας in 2 Cor  9:12, which is rendered into Syriac pulḥānā d-tešmeštā. This in fact shows that tešmeštā is more akin to λειτουργία (i. e. “liturgy”) than pulḥānā, another word for serving in the sense of labouring (the root is best known by the Arabic Fellah, “peasant”). Given that the strong liturgical association of λειτουργία was obvious in the eyes of the early Christian translators, they chose to use tešmeštā for it, even though this meant that one had to have pulḥānā for διακονία, which is against the overall translation policy of the Early Syriac versions. In general, it seems that the different Syriac versions do not contain significant differences regarding these wordings; I have consulted the standard Peshitta version, Old Syriac Gospels,19 and Mardin Pshitto edition.20

4. Servants and Deacons in the Earliest Syriac Literature Before entering the world of Acts of Thomas, we may make some observations on the roles and functions of deacon-related vocabulary in the earliest Syriac literature outside the Didascalia Apostolorum (a topic on its own right). I present two examples, the first one of which is (most likely) an original composition in Syriac, the second a translation. 16  John 2:5,9; Eph  3:7; 6:21; Phil  1:1; Col  1:7; 1 Tim  3:8,12. Unfortunately, the Old Syriac Gospel text of John 2:5 and 2:9 has not been preserved. In Matt 4:11 and Luke 10:40, both the Old Syriac and Mardin Gospel have tešmeštā for διακονεῖν and me šamme šānīn for διηκόνουν. One may note that in the verse in which the angels come and serve Jesus (Matt 4:11), the Syriac text gives the impression that angels come to serve Christ liturgically, i. e. to praise him. 17  Matt 4:11, Luke 10:40. 18  Acts  6:4, Rom  12:7. 19  E. Jan Wilson, The Old Syriac Gospels: Studies and Comparative Translations (Eastern Christian Studies I–II; Piscataway: Gorgias, 2002). 20  Ewangelyon qadisha: The New Testament Text according to the Pshitto of Mardin (Istan­ bul: Monastery of Mor Gabriel & United Bible Societies, 2007).

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Odes of Solomon, one of the earliest Syriac texts, is a beautiful collection of colourful charismatic poetry, the context of which is completely missing: we do not know where, when or for whom it was written. The contents as such would fit with a very early dating, even first century, but usually scholars are content to speak about it as a second or third century work. In Odes of Solomon, both roots appear in various forms and contexts. Derivations of ᶜBD occur in 11:22, 29:8, and 29:11; ŠMŠ appears in 6:13. To judge by the context, there are no obvious cases that should be taken as references to “deacons” in any technical sense; the occurrences refer to the serving of God in a general spiritual sense. It is remarkable, however, that when the reference is most probably to liturgical serving, the term me šamme šānā is used, albeit the cultic/liturgical function is expressed in a symbolic way in accordance with the poetical character of the text. Then all the thirsty upon the earth drank, and thirst was relieved and quenched; For from the Most High the drink was given. Blessed, therefore, are the ministers of that drink, who have been entrusted with His water. They have refreshed the parched lips, and have aroused the paralyzed will. 21

Here we may also take a brief look at Psalms of Solomon, which seems to be among the earliest translations into Syriac. The Hebrew original is lost, but Greek and Syriac versions remain, offering an appealing opportunity for comparisons. It is interesting to note that the Syriac text has ʿabdā not only in places where the Greek has δοῦλος (2:41, 10:4), but also in places where Greek translator has chosen παῖδα (son, child, servant, 12:7, 17:23). To judge by the context, it seems unlikely that in either case παῖδα was translated from ben.22 Moreover, no context seems exclusively cultic, so we cannot speculate on choices of ʿabdā versus me šamme šānā. (Even if there was one, a Christian translator might sense me šamme šānā to be too distinctively Christian to use in the Jewish context of Ps.Sol.) However, at least the setting illustrates that ʿabdā is a very wide term, 23 which hints towards a general observation: whenever me šamme šānā is used, it represents a genuinely specific sense. In other words, a deacon is not a servant in a general sense but in a rather particular one. 21  Odes of Solomon 6:11–14, translation according to Harris. The context is open for sacramental and/or charismatic reading. It seems insufficient, however, to view the activity described as mere preaching of the discursive word, for the hymn itself is part of liturgical and/ or charismatic activity! 22  “May salvation be on Israel, for Israel is His servant forever.” (Ps. Sol. 12:7) “Behold, O Lord, uplift to them their king, son of David, at the moment you see, O God. May he rule your servant Israel.” (Ps. Sol. 17:23.) 23 Actually, ᶜBD is not without cultic connotations in Eastern Aramaic, as witnessed by the name of the famous tractate of Talmud, ʿAvoda zara, “serving of idols.”

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5. Deacons in Acts of Thomas: The Liturgical Function At first glance, AT may appear as one of the most unfruitful sources for ecclesiastical or hierarchical relations in the whole of early Christian literature, due to the imaginative character of the story of a lonely apostle acting alone in India, performing miracles, in a somewhat untamed way, far removed from other apostles and ecclesiastical structures. A closer look, however, reveals traces of an established church order. Moreover, there is also some indirect yet explicit proof that the prayers of AT may be derived from real liturgical contexts.24 In the narrative of AT, deacons appear explicitly in four occasions.25 As might be expected, these all occur in the frame narrative, not in the prayerful hymns. The first context is eucharistic: the table and bread are prepared for the apostle by a deacon. The second case is caritative, and the last two cases offer indications of a certain canonical order of affairs, which is striking in the narrative AT, given that the apostle is acting alone in a faraway land. The brief episodes happen to say quite a lot on the functions of deacons, and even on the character of the diaconate. Under the imaginative, volatile, and somewhat unpredictable events of the narrative, there are clear indicators of liturgical order. For example, there are five baptisms in AT, and each one of them is preceded by anointing and followed by the Eucharist, so the basic structure is rather fixed, and even the details correspond rather well to those known from the Didascalia Apostolorum.26 In the first occurrence of “deacon” (§  49), the most relevant information is in fact revealed by what is not said. Namely, in the narrative the apostle is about to conduct a post-baptismal Eucharist, and suddenly he tells his deacon to make some preparations. Where did the deacon abruptly appear from, in the middle of India? It seems that the most logical explanation is that the presence of deacons in the liturgy was so self-evident that the author perhaps failed to notice the problem at this point. If there is a liturgy, there must be deacons, too! The liturgy in question is a most primitive one, for it seems to consist of the anaphora part alone, containing very beautiful epiclesis prayers and the breaking of bread. Of course, the scantiness applies to all early references of the litur24  For example, the blessing of water in §  52 says: “May the gift of the Holy Spirit in you (pl.) become perfect,” even though in the narrative context the water is blessed only in order to heal one person. 25  AT §  49, 59, 65–67, 169. All the references are to the Syriac (i. e. not Greek) text of AT, unless otherwise indicated. 26  Perhaps the most evident difference is the lack of explicit credos. It is to be noted that each baptism takes place in a different setting: bath-house (§  27), river (§  49), private home (§  157), pool (§  121), and even in a big jar (§  132). However, many details correspond to the practices of the fourth century, for example, the baptismal service held in the night (See Gregory of Nyssa’s Paschal homilies 4, PG 46, col.  681; 44:5, PG 36, col.  611; 45:2, PG 36, col.  623). Baptism in a river recalls Did. 7:1–3.

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gy.27 Each anaphora in AT is unique in its wording, and the eucharistic services around them seem to represent somewhat spontaneous settings, but one may note that they have no contradictory elements.28 With this very simplicity, however, it is interesting that even in so minimal and unadorned a liturgy, some practical elements of secondary character – linen, for example – are required. And he went to a river which was close by there, and baptised her in the name of the Father and the Son and the Spirit of holiness; and many were baptised with her.29 And the Apostle ordered his deacon 30 to make ready the Eucharist; and he brought a bench 31 thither, and spread over it a linen cloth; and he brought (and) placed upon it the bread of blessing.32

The deacon is needed to assist and serve the apostle in his liturgical activity. He prepares the table, which here means to bring in something that can be used as a table, and spreads a cotton linen (kettānā) on it. The Greek version slightly modifies the situation revising the “bench” into a “table” (τράπεζα). Then the deacon brings the bread and sets it on the table-stool – the origins of the Great Entrance in emergence! Even if the liturgy is lacking in length, the prayers of the apostle are prolonged and unhurried, even beautiful and profound, and do not contain unorthodox elements, even if judged from the perspective of later centuries. Why exactly is an assistant needed in the first place, given that the liturgy seems to consist merely of a few long prayers? When the section is considered as a whole, the main impression is that since there are in fact are no practical things that the celebrant could not deal with by himself, the principal reason the deacon is needed during the service in the first place is that his presence enables the celebrant to concentrate fully on the prayer. This in turn implies that there are so many practical aspects and procedures in the liturgy – more than those mentioned in AT – that to take care of all of them would in fact disturb the prayerful atmosphere. This is evident from the liturgy as we know it from history, but the same may, of course, function on a smaller scale in less-developed settings. In this respect, the brief description seems to reflect the situation approximately as we know it from the following centuries.33 27  The most famous ones predating AT are the ones mentioned by Justin Martyr (1 Apol. 65–67) and the Didache (9–10). 28  That is, with the exception of the use of water instead of wine on three occasions in the Greek text (AT §  120–121, 132–133, and 152). For further discussion on the epiclesis, see ­Caroline Johnson, “Ritual Epicleses in the Greek Acts of Thomas,” in The Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999), 171–204. 29  The Greek version omits the river and describes the baptism instead: “Then he caused her to come near unto him, and laid his hands upon her and sealed her in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.” 30 Syr. m e šamm e šānā, Gr. τῳ διακόνῷ αὐτοῦ. 31  Gr. adds, “which they found there.” 32  AT §  49, translation according to Klijn, Acts of Thomas. 33  That is not to say that the brief description of AT would refer to the liturgy similar to

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The character of ordination 34 is the issue, somewhat indirectly, in §  65–67. The apostle prays and speaks to his Christian converts for the last time before departing to another location. Here Thomas tells his deacon 35 Xanthippos to gather all the brethren to hear his consoling message. In his beautiful spiritual reflection on trust in God, the only practical comfort given by the apostle is that he promises to leave his deacon Xanthippos to continue his preaching, and rather explicitly elevates him to the same level as himself. Ultimately, the section tells us only one thing concerning the diaconate, but that is a significant one: it is from the ranks of deacons that those who continue the work of presbyters36 (and bishops) come. In that sense, the idea of diaconate as a lower rank of clergy is clearly present.37 The matter receives more light at the end of AT.38 The thematic finale and the culmination of the narrative is the martyrdom of Thomas: having followed his Master to the gates of death, the apostle presents a profound prayer that echoes the mood of Christ’s last prayers in Gethsemane.39 After the martyrdom, the apostle is buried with great respect. His followers Sifur and Vizan sit on his grave day and night. Like his master once did, Thomas appears to his disciples and declares solemnly: the later one(s), but that the pithy descriptions can be read to reflect something roughly similar to what we know about the liturgy in the fourth century onwards. 34  Ordination here is, of course, rather free by character and not to be defined according to the sources of later centuries. On the other hand, a third-century “ordination” cannot be something completely unlike the one known from slightly later sources. Here the question is, how to define an ordination in the most minimal sense of the word. To have something that can be labelled as ordination, one ultimately needs a modest act of initiation that changes the status or function of the one ordained. Basically this means a blessing after which one is something that he/she was not before. This usually means that he/she is allowed to commit some acts that he/she did not commit before (or if he/she did do, it happened without a proper authority). What particular details and wordings are used in the change of status, is in fact rather secondary, at least in the pre-Nicene era. In the case of AT, this “ordinating” act is expressed plainly so that someone is “made a deacon” – or is not. Thus the essential thing is that one cannot be a deacon or function as deacon unless he is “made” one. 35 Syr. m e šamm e šāneh, Gr. τῶ διακόνω. 36  One can say that the presbyters are here symbolised by the apostle for the very reason that the work is from the third century and applies certain anachronisms. 37  I do not take into account here the speculations on the emergence of rank of presbyters between the bishops and deacons, based on the Western sources (West here includes Greek ones), for two reasons. Firstly, the practices of Rome and even Antioch may be irrelevant, or in any case not normative for the Church of Edessa in 220’s, which seems to have been rather “non-conformist,” to put it mildly. Secondly, the second level of priesthood, that of the priest, is made explicit later in the text by the use of qaššīšā. 38  AT §  169. 39 AT §  167. “Unto Thee I have committed my soul, and no man shall take it from Thy hands. Let not my sins hinder me. Lo, Lord, I fulfilled Thy will and became a slave, for the sake of this freedom which I am receiving today. Do Thou, Lord Jesus, give (it) to me and fulfill it with me; for I am in no doubt whatever regarding Thy truth and Thy love, but for the sake of these who are standing (by) that they may hear, I speak before Thee.”

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I am not here. Why are you sitting and guarding me? I have ascended unto my Lord, and have received what I was looking for and hoping for. But rise and go down hence, for yet a little while, and ye too shall be gathered unto me.40

In this fashion, the narrative has taken Thomas in the footsteps of Christ through teaching and debates, healings and miracles, opposition and persecution, to the very end. In this rather iconic setting, Thomas takes the role of Christ and his deacon that of the apostle. The narrative proceeds to the gathering of Christians: And all the brethren who were there used to assemble together, pray and offer the (Eucharistic) offering and break (bread). For Thomas41 had made Sifur a priest42 and Vizan a deacon (me šamme šānā) on the mountain, when he was going towards his death. And our Lord was helping them with His love and was increasing their faith to Him through them.43

There is no way to read the text here so that me šamme šānā could be a servant or assistant in a general sense: the hierarchical sense of deaconhood is evident. The text in fact presupposes that one could not function in the role of deacon in a liturgical setting without ordination (a sort of appointment).44 Namely, after mentioning the Eucharist, the narrator seems to notice that there is a problem in the narrative: how can they have Eucharist after the death of apostle? Therefore, just like all narrators at a dead end do, he added a brief note to explain what had happened earlier: Sifur had been made a “priest” and Vizan a “deacon”45 by the apostle just before his death. Thus we know two deacons by name in AT, Xanthippos and Vizan. Of the first, we are told nothing; he is just mentioned once in a prayer.46 Vizan, however, is one of the main characters in the last parts of AT (§  139–169): A son of the king Mazdai and a helpful character. But is there any reason why it was he who was chosen to be the deacon by the narrator? I suggest that the answer may be simply that he seems to be younger47 than Sifur, who was an army com40 AT

§  169, see Matt 28:6. Klijn’s translation slightly modified. translates the name “Judah,” which is the second name of Thomas in the text, as “Jesus” to enable a more “Gnostic” reading. 42 Syriac qaššīšā means priest, not bishop; the Greek version has πρεσβύτερος. 43  AT 169. Gr. “And the Lord wrought with them, and many were added unto the faith.” 44  Here, as in the previous case, I do not mean a detailed ritual but an ordaining act (perhaps a small blessing that functions to nominate one to a new status). Even though the text says nothing about it, the logic of the narrative makes it rather evident that something was needed and it took place, and the most natural term for this “something” is ordination (in the third-century sense of the word, whatever it may be). 45  My own translation. The Greek text has διάκονον for m e šamm e šānā. 46  “Be Thou with the flock of Xanthippos, and anoint his flock with the oil of life, and cleanse it of its disease, and guard it from wolves and from robbers, that they may not snatch it out of his hands” (AT §  67). Gr: “Be thou in the flock of Xenophon and anoint it with holy oil, and heal it of sores, and preserve it from the ravening wolves.” 47 See Apos. Con. 8 (63). 41  Klijn

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mander by profession. It may also be, however, that the narrator did not consider the matter very carefully. Considering the peculiar literary character of AT, all these pieces in fact fit surprisingly well with what we know from the early sources in which deacons are presented as assistants and servants of the bishop.48 The bishop, in turn, is a representative of Christ and continuer of the apostolic work. What we have in AT is a narrative adaption of this very setting. The relation of bishop and deacons reflects the relation of Christ and apostles, and this is evident especially, and in a beautiful way, in the iconic ending of the book.

6. The Social Role of Deacons There is also one place in AT in which the deacons are depicted in caritative work, delivering charity funds for the widows. It is perhaps remarkable that in this very section there are evident influences from the NT, which is not the case in most of the AT. The section contains indirect echoes of Acts  18:28, Rom  15:25– 26, and 2 Cor  8 –9, as Klijn noted.49 Klijn, however, failed to refer to the most evident subtext, Acts  5:42, which is almost directly quoted in the end: And these multitudes believed, and surrendered themselves50 to the living God and to Jesus the Messiah, enjoying the blessed works (ᶜbādē, Gr. ἔργοις) of the Most High and His holy service (tešmešteh qaddīšātā, Gr. τῇ διακονίᾳ αὐτοῦ τῇ ἁγίᾳ);51 and they all brought a lot of money for the relief (nyāḥā, Gr. εἰς διακονιάν τῶν χηρῶν) of widows, who were gathered together by the Apostle in each city. He sent to all of them by the hands of his deacons (b-yad me šamme šānāw, Gr. διά τῶν ἰδίων διακόνων) what they needed for food and clothing. He himself never ceased to preach and to speak to them in order to show that Jesus was the Messiah that the scriptures told of.52

For our purposes, it is interesting to note that both Syriac roots for serving are used; firstly in a rather open sense referring to acts (ʿBD) of God towards man; 48  See, for example, The Apostolic Tradition by Hippolytus 4:2, 8:2 (“the deacon is not ordained to the priesthood, but to the service of the bishop, to do what he commands”), 22:1, 25:1, 34:1 (“the deacons and sub-deacons shall serve the bishop”). The origins of the text are debatable and of course it has nothing to do with AT and its milieu, but the parallels are significant particularly for that reason. In other words, the narrative character of AT leaves the matters themselves undefined, but the narratives seem to reflect similar ideas and practices and fit to a very similar paradigm. 49 Klijn, Acts of Thomas, 254. 50  Greek adds “obediently” (πειθηνίους). 51  In theory, the “holy service” might be read as God performing service (Gr. διακονία) to the Christians, but rather obviously, “holy service” here refers to liturgical service that the Christians have the privilege to enjoy by participating in it. Yet what makes it enjoyable is the presence of God, so ultimately these two ways to understand the expression are not in disagreement. 52  AT §  59, translation according to Klijn, Acts of Thomas.

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then, human acts of sacred (liturgical) activity towards God are expressed with ŠMŠ. Those who serve in charitable activity here are referred to with the same word as deacons in the liturgical serving. Unlike in liturgical contexts, however, the “deacons” appear now in plural, even though the narrative does not hint at the possibility of more ordinations having taken place. The Greek translation has even rendered the “relief of widows” as “diakonia of widows,” which indicates that διακονία had not absorbed a strictly technical sense but refers to “service of widows” in a general sense. Nevertheless, here we must pay attention to the question that should be presented to all early Christian texts speaking about deacons serving the poor and the sick: did the deacons serve the widows and the poor for the very reason that they were deacons, or simply because they were Christians? Or, given that the deacons basically did what bishops told them to do, the question can be reformulated: did the bishops command deacons to serve the poor and sick because they were “deacons,” or because they were the ones under their direct authority, or for other practical reasons? Answers to practical questions, of course, could vary from time to time and place to place, according to circumstances. The crucial point, however, is related to the status: in order to commit liturgical acts one needed to have an “ordination,” which could mean a most simple blessing in the earliest times, but to commit practical good acts there was no need for any ordination whatsoever because they could and should be committed by any Christian.

7. Social Challenges and Communal Ideals Remarks on the social role of deacons should be read as a part of early Christian ideals in general. The best-known examples of early Christian solidarity towards the poor are in the Didache (1–4), Epistle of Barnabas (20.2), and Aristides’ Apology. According to Aristides, writing in Athens 100 years before AT, the Christians love one another, and from widows they do not turn away their esteem; and they deliver the orphan from him who treats him harshly. And he who has, gives to him who has not, without boasting. And when they see a stranger, they take him in to their homes and rejoice over him as a very brother; for they do not call them brethren after the flesh, but brethren after the spirit and in God.53

In a similar manner, the social dilemma of rich and poor is taken seriously in AT. The apostolic way of dealing with the matter is not content with verbal declarations of the spiritual equality of all. Throughout the AT there is a constant demand, or an unsaid presupposition, that the equality is to be realised in 53 Aristides, Apology 15.6. Translated according to D.M. Kay, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, 1885–1887; 10 vols.), vol.  9.

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concrete, even radical, acts of solidarity. Moreover, in AT the ideals were not confined inside the Christian community, but extended outside it: the apostle urged them to build houses to lodge strangers.54 The demand for equality is all the more radical in the Indian setting of AT, but it was not without a certain radicalism even in the context of its origin, third-century Syria. The most telling case is that of Tertia, wife of the local ruler. The first sign of her being influenced by the apostolic teaching is that she walks home with her own feet, not carried by her servants.55 To become a Christian meant to give up earthly and social privileges, for these were based on an untruthful, and for that reason unjust, world-view. The ideal of equality is reflected also in the portrayal of the emerging Christian community. Each new believer brought a lot of money for the relief of widows, and the apostle gathered money and sent through his deacons what was needed for food and clothes.56 Whether this was in fact practised in the 220’s we cannot know for sure, but it was certainly understood as an apostolic standard and, therefore, a Christian ideal. The class differences are reflected also in the comments made by Karish, a relative of the ruler. As his wife began to practice renunciation and move around with the apostle, his basic worry was that the apostle might be a runaway slave and thus most unsuitable company.57 Such episodes show that demand for social equality was a most central concern. The demand of applying spiritual equality in practice is clear in AT, and it seems to have constituted an elementary part of the early Christian good news. Moreover, the demand for equality is realised in the listeners little by little: there is no intention to abolish slavery or classes in any revolutionary sense. The change spreads through individuals who adopt the Christian way of life. The challenge is not presented to society as a whole, or to its rulers, no matter how uncompromising and fearless the apostolic preaching is. The Christian world changes through the transformation of individuals. In this kind of ethos, it is rather evident that what we today call “social work” was not delegated to deacons in the sense that the rest of the community was freed of the responsibility. As servants of the Church (represented by the apostle in AT), however, they were the natural choices when someone was needed to make practical arrangements. Yet there is no explicit or even implicit evidence in the AT that the deacon functioned as a sort of caritative worker.

54 AT

§  33. §  137. 56  AT §  59. See also §  19 and §  26. 57 AT §  100. 55 AT

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8. Female Deacons in Acts of Thomas The word “deaconess” does not explicitly appear in AT, yet a role comparable to that of later deaconesses is not absent. The cases of baptisms of women in fact portray a clear picture of the reasons why deaconesses were needed in the early Church. Nothing resembling ordination is mentioned in these cases, however, which partially explains why the word “deaconess” does not appear. The first case is the baptism of Mygdonia. After pouring out myrrh on her head, the apostle asked Narkia to anoint her and to wrap a linen around her in order to enter the water; the pre-baptismal anointing is a well-known procedure from many Syriac sources.58 As in many tragedies of antiquity, Mygdonia’s trusted woman Narkia is her nurse.59 And when Narkia had brought (them) Mygdonia uncovered her head, and was standing before the holy Apostle. And he took the oil, and cast (it) on her head […] And he cast (it) upon the head of Mygdonia and said: “Heal her of her old wounds, and wash away from her her sores, and strengthen her weakness.”60 And when he had cast the oil on her head, he told her nurse to anoint her, and to put a cloth round her loins; and he fetched the basin of their conduit. 61 And Thomas went up (and) stood over it, and baptized Mygdonia in the name of the Father and the Son and the Spirit of Holiness.62 And when she had come out and put on her clothes, he fetched and brake the Eucharist and (filled) the Cup63 and let Mygdonia partake of the table of the Messiah and of the cup of the Son of God.64

Later in the narrative, Mygdonia herself is performing the same function in another baptism: she takes the clothes from those who are to be anointed and baptised,65 wraps them into a linen and brings them to the apostle. Thomas anoints the heads of all, but tells Mygdonia to perform the rest of the anointing for the women, while he himself anoints Vizan: And when he had prayed thus, he said to Mygdonia: “My daughter, strip thy sisters.” And she stripped them, and put girdles on them, and brought them near to him. And Vizan came first, and Thomas took oil. […] And he cast it upon the head of Vizan, and then upon the heads of these […] And he commanded Mygdonia to anoint them and he himself anointed Vizan. And after he had anointed them, he made them go down into the water in the name of the Father and the Son and the Spirit of Holiness.66 58 

For a bibliography of sources and studies, see http://syri.ac/brock/baptism. Apocryphal Acts of Thomas, 85; Keith R. Bradley, Discovering the Roman Family. Studies in Roman Social History (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 13–36. 60  Greek omits the sentence. 61  Gr. “and there was there a fountain of water.” 62  Syriac has the archaic form “Spirit of Holiness” (rūḥā d e -qudšā). 63  Gr. “he brake bread and took a cup of water.” 64  AT §  121. Italics mine. 65 Likewise, Apostolic Tradition of Hippolytus (21:3) advises those to be baptised to take off their clothes. 66  AT §  157. Italics mine. Translation according to Klijn, Acts of Thomas with the exception that, for the sake of clarity, I use Thomas for Judah systematically. 59 Bremmer,

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Here we also have a witness to the practice that the neophytes had a special white robe for the next week (namely, the “bright week” after the Great Week). The custom is known from the fourth century in both West and East, but here we have a rare piece of early evidence for it. In short, the “deaconesses” are needed to strip, anoint, and wrap the women in baptism; this happens by the authority and explicit command of the apostle, but there are no traces of anything resembling ordination.

9. Deacons in the Teaching of Addai and Acts of Mar Mari Finally, it may be interesting to discuss here briefly two related texts that are less known and of later date but belong to the same genre and probably reflect some early traditions. The first one is a thematically related work of similar genre, Teaching of Addai, or Doctrina Addai, one of the somewhat controversial Syriac texts. The final version can probably be dated to the fourth century, but some of the contents seem to be based on earlier traditions or sources. 67 In principle, it may not be utterly impossible to have some elements even from the first century, but with more probability the oldest traditions might be from the second century. In any case, a sense of historicity is given by several names of the type X bar Z that are otherwise unknown. The relevant portions concerning the diaconate run as follows: And some years after Addai the Apostle had built the church in Edessa, and furnished it with everything which was suitable for it, and had taught (talmed) many of the population of the city, also in the other villages, both those which were distant, and those which were near, he built churches, and completed and ornamented them, and appointed (’aqīm [h]wā) in them deacons (me šamme šānē) and elders (qaššišē), and taught in them those who should read the Scriptures, and the orders of the ministry (taksē d-tešmeštā) within and without he taught. [25b] After all these things he became ill with the disease, by which he departed from this world. And he called Aggai before all the congregation of the church (kenšā d-ʿeddtā), and he brought him near, 68 and made him governor (me dabberānā) and ruler (pāqōdā) in his place. And concerning Palut, who was a deacon, he made him an elder, and of Abšelama, who was a scribe (sāfrā), he made him a deacon (ʿabdeh [h]wā me šamme šānā).69

The ordination of a deacon is expressed with the same expression as in AT, “to make someone a deacon.” Now, however, the narration is more likely to be from 67  For details, see Ilaria Ramelli, “Possible historical traces in the Doctrina Addai,” Hugoye, Journal of Syriac Studies 9.1 (January 2006): 51–127; http://bethmardutho.cua.edu/Hugoye/ Vol9No1/HV9N1Ramelli.html. 68 Syriac qarre beh, translated here literally, also refers to sacrifice, and is a most sacramental word, for the basic Syriac word for “Eucharist” is qurbānā, “sacrifice.” 69  Doctrina Addai, f. 25a–25b.

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the time of more developed ordination rites, and this gives some support to interpret the similar expression in AT as a reference to ordination.70 Likewise, the deacons of Doctrina Addai clearly are liturgical servants that are ordained alongside with the priest, or to be exact, between priests and readers. The word tešmeštā, a derivative of ŠMŠ, also shows something essential: it refers to the “liturgical ministry,” “liturgical order,” but could be literally understood as “deaconhood,” which again shows how deeply liturgical the idea of deaconhood is, and how “deaconic” the idea of liturgical serving is. Unfortunately, the only thing told about Abšelama is that he was given the task of burying Addai with the presbyter Palut: And as he was dying he made Palut and Abšelama swear that in this house, for the sake of whose name, behold, I die, place me and bury me. And as he made them swear, so they placed him within the middle door of the church, between the men and the women.71

Moreover, there is another text related to Doctrina Addai known as Acts of Mar Mari (AMM) that tells about the introduction of Christianity to Mesopotamia in the first and early centuries by the disciple of Addai (Thaddeus) called Mari. The text is dated to the sixth century, and the stories filled with miracles which seem to be of late origin. In the best case, some elements in the kernel of the work may perhaps reflect traditions related to historical facts. For our purposes, AMM offers a convenient conclusion for the discussion, for the narrative is a later reflection of events that are thematically similar to those in AT – and occasionally the very same events presented in Doctrina Addai. Namely, AMM includes certain similar episodes and some parallel themes; to name one, the famous episode of the Christianisation of Edessa is taken to AMM directly from Doctrina Addai. For our purposes, it suffices to note that in AMM all the successful missions, the ones in which a whole town is converted, are described with fixed manoeuvres including the same elements: building a church and ordaining priests and deacons. For example, in the city of king Arzen – an Armenian name, Արսեն – the recovery and baptism of the king are followed by the conversion of the people: So he taught (talmed) the whole city, built therein a church and appointed in it (’aqīm bāh) the priests and deacons.72

70  Namely, the continuous usage of the same expression is the most natural manifestation of continuity in the practice it refers to; had a practice of entirely different character been introduced, there would have emerged a need for new terminology as well. 71  Doctrina Addai, f. 32b. The passage shows that men and women had separate sides in the Church. 72  AMM §  7, 16. In the English version, talmed is translated “converted.”

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The same expressions are repeated, with churches in the plural, in other places.73 The basic impression given by the descriptions is that in order to practice Christianity three things are needed: Church, priest, and deacon.

10. Conclusion Due to the largely imaginative character of AT, one could easily suppose that it is of no use for discussions on Church order and ordinations. It is because of this reason, however, that AT does provide an extraordinarily strong witness to the nature of the diaconate in the Christian Middle East of the first centuries. Namely, if deacons and ordinations (in a most primitive sense of the word) are present in such an intrinsic way, even in a text that represents so free and charismatic a spirituality that it has even been suspected of Gnosticism, this proves sufficiently that the role of deacons was firmly established. This is why they were taken for granted by the author even in contexts where the presence of deacons was more or less inconsistent with the narrative. In this way, the practices of the early third century were projected into apostolic times. In terms of Rabbinic qal wa-homer reasoning, the situation must be all the more so in more mainstream texts. All the sources discussed above constitute a rather coherent whole, at least in regard to the heterogeneous nature of the material. In the earliest Syriac material, the role of deacon is that of liturgical assistant. A male deacon that serves in the Eucharist needs to be ordained – in the early third century sense of the word, whatever that may have meant. Therefore, the function of deacons is rather clear: they were needed as assistants in liturgical life. In addition, the deacons could assist also in practical social work. There is no actual reason, however, to assume that this happened because of their status as a deacon. Moreover, Acts of Thomas speaks of women deaconess-figures in action in some detail, even though there is no indication of their ordination. Whether these women in the Syrian East needed an ordination of some sort in order to assist in baptism, however, needs to be proven from other sources.

73 

AMM §  30 (66) and §  31 (70).

Tertullian and the Deacons Anni Maria Laato

1. Introduction In this article, I intend to discuss Tertullian’s view on the office and tasks of deacons. The development of the diaconate in North Africa, and especially Tertullian’s hometown Carthage, is well documented regarding later times – those of Cyprian and Augustine – but for the beginning of the third century, Tertullian is almost the only source.1 In this article, I shall discuss all the passages where he mentions deacons. He does not refer to them many times, and never clearly formulates how he understood their office and tasks.2 However, from his texts we can gather some important information on the development of the diaconate in the West. Tertullian was not a member of the clergy, even if Jerome later reported so, but a layperson with authority to teach catechumens and fellow Christians.3 This partly explains why he so seldom mentions the deacons; he did not have much to do with the administration of the Church. It is also unclear to what degree his views on the clergy, in this case deacons, reflect the views of the majority the Christians in Carthage of his time, or whether they are more his personal theological opinions. Tertullian’s first surviving texts can be dated between the years 196–206, while he was an active member of the local Catholic Church in Carthage.4 From the year 207 onwards, he became more and more interested in, and influenced by, a charismatic New Prophecy movement, later called Montanism; and his criticism towards the Catholic Church, especially its bishops, grew. It is, however, possi1  See Jan M. Joncas, “Clergy, North African” in Augustine through the Ages (ed. Allan D. Fitzgerald; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans 1999), 213–17. 2 David Rankin, Tertullian and the Church (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 119. 3  Exh. cast. 7.3. Barnes has convincingly argued that the claim of Jerome (Vir. ill. 53) that Tertullian was a presbyter lacks credibility. Timothy D. Barnes, Tertullian–A Historical and Literary Study (Oxford: Clarendon, 1971), 11. For another view, see René Braun, Approches de Tertullien: vingt-six études sur l’auteur et sur l’oeuvre (Paris: Brepols, 1992). 4  In chronology, I follow Barnes, Tertullian.

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ble that he participated in its liturgical worship even during this period.5 Two of his last works, De ieiunio and De pudicitia, written around 210–212, express intense condemnation of some of the practices of the psychici, unspiritual, as he calls (some) members of the main Church,6 but nowhere does he indicate that he divorced himself from the Catholic worshipping community.7

2. The Clergy and the Laity in Tertullian’s Texts In order to form a comprehensive picture of Tertullian’s view on deacons, it is useful to start from his, at the time unique, way of seeing the relationship between clergy and laity. He distinguishes between these two both when he refers to actual life in Carthage and in his more theoretical accounts, but it has been discussed how he actually understood the difference between them.8 We shall look at four passages from different periods in Tertullian’s career. He uses varied, and not wholly consistent, terminology and images for both groups. In De baptismo 17, written before he became involved with the New Prophecy movement, Tertullian deals with the question of who has the authority to perform a baptism.9 According to him, a bishop as the high priest (summus sacerdos) has the supreme right (summum ius) to administer the baptism, but he can delegate this task to presbyters and deacons. Nevertheless, Tertullian adds that in cases of emergency even baptised lay people have the right to baptise (etiam laicis ius est).10 Tertullian motivates this ius theologically: baptism is God’s property, and “for that which is received on equal terms can be given on equal terms” (quod enim ex aequo accipitur ex aequo dari potest). It is, however, important to notice that according to Tertullian, in normal circumstances no one should baptise without the authorization of a bishop. He motivates this rule with the need to preserve peace and order in the church and to avoid schism. In order to emphasise this, he makes the difference between clergy and laity even more clear by saying that the laypersons should show respect and modesty to5  Eric Francis Osborn, Tertullian: First Theologian of the West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 176; Tobias Georges, Tertullian “Apologeticum” (Freiburg: Herder, 2011), 19–20. It has been suggested that the New Prophecy movement had its meetings after the regular services, Douglas Powell, “Tertullianists and Cataphrygians,” VC 29 (1975): 33–54. 6 Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 48–49. 7 Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 28. 8 Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 120–21; J. Patout Burns and Robin Margaret Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa: The Development of Its Practices and Beliefs (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014), 364–645. 9  De baptismo, Edition and translation: Ernest Evans, Tertullian’s Homily on Baptism: Edited with an introduction, translation and commentary by Ernest Evans (London: SPCK, 1964). 10  On the meaning of laicus in Tertullian’s texts, see Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 128–29.

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ward maiores (elders/greaters), which in this context denotes clerical order: bishop, presbyter, and deacon.11 He ends his argument by calling lay baptism without the authorization of the bishop a schism, as he writes: “Imitation of bishops is a mother of schism” (episcopatum aemulatio schismatum mater est.)12 In De praescriptione haereticorum 41.6–8, Tertullian deals with the clerical offices from a very different point of view. Arguing against some heretics, he claims that their ordinations (ordinationes) are “carelessly administered, capricious, and changeable,” and that they change offices as they wish: today can someone be a bishop, another day someone else; a reader can suddenly become a deacon and a layperson can become a presbyter.13 He ends his cry by saying that these heretics give even to lay people tasks that belong to the clergy. Just as in the first passage we looked at, Tertullian confirms the status of the clergy and the difference between the tasks of clergy and laypeople. What is of utmost importance for him is that order is preserved. The culmination of the bad conduct of these heretics is that “even on laics do they impose sacerdotal tasks ­(sacerdotalia munera)!” From the fact that he opposed sudden changes from one status to another, and his criticism of the ordinationes of the heretics, one can conclude that both these heretics and Tertullian’s church had ordination rites into the office of deacon, among others. In a text from his New Prophecy period, De exhortatione castitatis (7.3–4), Tertullian emphasises the idea of lay priesthood even more clearly than before. In this passage, his aim is to argue for the view that no Christian should remarry after the death of a spouse. In order to prove this, he points to an apostolic prescript given to the clergy (which he here calls ordo sacerdotalis), and claims that this rule should be applied to all Christians, because all Christians are priests (sacerdotes) – he motivates this thought with Rev 1:6. Let us have a closer look at this passage: Are not even we laics priests? It is written: “A kingdom also, and priests to His God and Father, hath He made us.” It is the authority of the Church, and the honour which has acquired sanctity through the joint session of the Order, which has established the difference between the Order and the laity. Accordingly, where there is no joint session of the ecclesiastical Order, you offer, and baptize, and are priest, alone for yourself. But where three are, a church is, albeit they be laics. For each individual lives by his own faith, nor is there exception of persons with God; since it is not hearers of the law who are justified by the Lord, but doers, according to what the apostle withal says. Therefore, if you have the right of a priest in your own person, in cases of necessity, it behoves you

11 Rankin,

Tertullian and the Church, 127. Bapt. 17.2. On Tertullian’s understanding of schism and heresy, see Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Heresy and Schism according to Cyprian of Carthage,” JTS 55/2 (2004): 551–74. 13 41.8 Itaque alius hodie episcopus, cras alius; hodie diaconus qui cras lector; hodie presbyter qui cras laicus. Nam et laicis sacerdotalia munera iniungunt. Trans. Thomas Herbert Bindley, On the Testimony of the Soul and On the “Prescription” of Heretics (London: SPCK, 1914). 12 

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to have likewise the discipline of a priest whenever it may be necessary to have the right of a priest.14

First, we notice that Tertullian counts himself among the laity as he writes nonne et laici sacerdotes sumus? Second, he argues for the priesthood of the laity. According to him, all Christians are priests in a real sense, not only in a wider sense. The difference between clergy (ordo) and laity (plebs) is, according to him, established only by the authority of the Church, and the Church is where three Christians are gathered even if they are laics. Therefore, even the laics have the right (ius) of a priest (sacerdos). Thus, the laics may in case of emergency baptise and even celebrate the Eucharist.15 He summarises his argument by saying that all those who have the right (ius) of a priest, must also have the conduct (disciplina) of a priest. The question of second marriage is Tertullian’s topic even in De monogamia. In paragraph 11.1, he points out that the apostle has ordered monogamy especially for the clergy (ordo): the bishop, the presbyters, and the deacons.16 In next chapter, he seems to distinguish between the bishop and the lower clergy, i. e. presbyters and deacons, as he refers to “the bishops and the clergy” (episcopi et clerus).17 The purpose of these passages on monogamy is not so much to clarify the relation between clergy and laity, but to impose higher standards of life even on the laics – it seems plausible that Tertullian presents here more his own standards than those of his Church. At the same time he formulates the relationship between clergy and laity in a way uncommon in his time. The idea that the real authority belongs to the Church and not to the clergy is also very clearly formulated in De pudicitia. He wrote this work in his New Prophecy period against a certain Catholic bishop who had promised absolution for certain “secret sins” (Pud. 1.6). Tertullian claims that this bishop has no authority to make such decisions, because the right to forgive eventually belongs to the Church of the Spirit, which, he emphasises, can consist of only three Christians. He claims: “And in this sense the Church of course will con14  Nonne et laici sacerdotes sumus? Scriptum est: Regnum quoque nos et sacerdotes deo et patri suo fecit. Differentiam inter ordinem et plebem constituit ecclesiae auctoritas et honor per ordinis consessum sanctificatus. Adeo ubi ecclesiastici ordinis non est consessus, et offers et tinguis et sacerdos es tibi solus. Sed ubi tres, ecclesia est, licet laici. Vnusquisque enim fide sua uiuit, nec est personarum exceptio apud deum, quoniam non auditores legis iustificantur a domino, sed factores, secundum quod et apostolus dicit. Igitur si habes ius sacerdotis in temetipso ubi necesse est, habeas oportet etiam disciplinam sacerdotis, ubi necesse sit habere ius sacerdotis. SC 319. Engl. trans. S. Thelwall, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, 1885–1887; 10 vols.), vol.  9. 15  Burns and Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa, 242. 16  Tertullian may have been the one who introduced the old Latin word ordo with the meaning “Christian clergy,” in contrast to the laity, into the Latin language. See Pierre van Beneden, “Ordo. Über den Ursprung einer kirchlichen Terminologie,” VC 23/3 (1969): 161–76. 17  According to Rankin (Tertullian and the Church, 128), this was not yet common in the Western church.

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done sins, but the Church of the Spirit by means of a man of the Spirit, not a church as a bunch of bishops (numerus episcoporum). For a lord has rights and freedom of decision, not a servant; that right belongs to God himself, not to the priest (sacerdos)” (Pud. 21.16). Read in its context, Tertullian does not in this passage criticise the office of bishop itself, but his criticism is targeted against what he considers to be a too-lenient practice in forgiving sins and admitting sinners back to the Church. In order to clarify the limits of the authority of a bishop, he claims that, in the end, the authority to forgive sins does not belong to the bishops or priests, but to the Church. On the basis of these texts it is clear that for Tertullian, the deacons are a part of the clergy, and share some of the authority, functions, and special obligations of conduct with the bishop and the presbyter. He does not have much specific to say about the tasks of a presbyter. The bishop is the leader of the community; the deacon and the presbyter are subordinate to him.18 Tertullian emphasises the apostolic foundation of the episcopacy (Praescr. 32.3; Fug. 13.3). The only actual task given to the deacons in these passages is to perform a baptism on the authority of a bishop. The motivation for the distinction between the ordo and plebs is good order. Tertullian strongly stresses that actually even the laics are priests (sacerdotes), and motivates this with Scripture. The priesthood of all Christians does not only give the right to pray or address God, but all priestly rights, even to administer sacraments in case of emergency. The task of a deacon, to baptise on the permission of a bishop, is from this point of view nothing more than what the laics have.

3. The Offices and the Officeholders Tertullian several times lists the three main offices in the church – bishop, presbyter, and deacon – together. In some of these cases, he mentions other offices or tasks, too (Bapt. 17.1; Praescr. 41.8; Fug. 11.1; Mon. 11.1). We shall return to those below. Apart from the texts we have dealt with above, we shall look at some other passages in order to better understand Tertullian’s view on deacons. We shall start with his criticism on the character and behaviour of some members of the clergy. Tertullian does not hold all the individuals in the offices of the church in high regard. On one occasion, he writes about clerics who have fled during a persecution. He writes: But when persons in authority (auctores) themselves – I mean the very deacons, and presbyters, and bishops – take to flight, how will a layman (laicus) be able to see with 18 Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 169; Burns and Jensen, Christianity in Roman Afri­ ca, 364.

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what view it was said, “Flee from city to city?” Thus, too, with the leaders (duces) turning their backs, who of the common rank (grex) will hope to persuade men to stand firm in the battle? (Fug. 11.1)19

Tertullian calls these fleeing deacons, presbyters, and bishops “bad shepherds” – they have been set over the Church and should not flee in the time of persecution.20 He uses the words dux (overseer/leader/general) which in this context comes from military vocabulary, and auctor (founder/teacher/person in authority) both being common words for leadership.21 It is apparent that he expected from the deacons, priests, and bishops more than from ordinary Christians: people in positions of authority should be an example for the community. In Tertullian’s view, clerics and other office holders cannot be trusted to always remain in the orthodox faith, either. In De praescriptione, he mentions bishops and deacons together – without presbyters, but together with widows, virgins, teachers, and martyrs – as examples of people who can fall from the rule of faith into heresy (Praescr. 3.5). These are categories of people from whom you would normally expect more than you would from ordinary Christians. By this example, Tertullian intends to point out that one should not test the faith by persons, but persons by faith. Anyone can lapse. This short survey shows that Tertullian knew and acknowledged the higher offices, the bishop, the presbyter, and the deacon. They were the leaders of the community and from them Tertullian expected a higher standard of conduct than from other Christians. In his texts, Tertullian names several other offices or groups in the Church, too: widow, virgin, teacher, reader, confessor, and martyr. Usually he distinguishes between the three higher offices and the others, but once in De praescriptione he separates bishop, presbyter, deacon, and reader (!) from the laity in the context of criticizing “the heretics” for mixing the tasks of the clergy and the laypeople. This is probably just a coincidence without any deeper importance; nothing proves otherwise. In other passages, the above mentioned other offices named by him are not counted among the sacerdotal clergy, but are anyway separated from the ordinary members of the Church. When it comes to the tasks of women, Tertullian witnesses to the offices of virgin and widow and suggests that there was some kind of formal process of admission to these offices. Women do not belong to the sacerdotal office (ordo 19  Sed cum ipsi auctores, id est ipsi diaconi et presbyteri et episcopi fugiunt, quomodo laicus intelligere poterit, qua ratione dictum: “Fugite de civitate in civitatem?” Itaque cum duces fugiunt, quis de gregario numero sustinebit ad gradum in acie fugiendum suadere? Fug. 11.1. CSEL 76. Engl. trans. S. Thelwall, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, 1885–1887; 10 vols.), vol.  11. 20 Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 152. 21  For the discussion whether one should read auctor or actor, see Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 150–51.

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sacerdotalis), in fact, Tertullian explicitly denies women the right to teach or baptise (Virg. 9.1; Bapt. 1.3: Praesrc. 41.5). He holds in high esteem female martyrs, confessors, and prophetesses (Marc. 5.8.11; An. 9.4; Exh. cast. 10).22 As usual in the West, the office of deaconess seems to be unknown for him.23

4. What Did the Deacons Do and What Did They Not Do? We have seen above that Tertullian knows and acknowledges that the office of deacon belongs to the clergy together with bishop and presbyter; and that it is therefore higher in the hierarchy than the non-sacerdotal offices of virgins, widows, doctors, and lectors.24 As members of the clergy, he expects the deacons to be monogamous, keep to the rule of faith, and as leaders be good examples for the lay members of the Church. Tertullian says, however, very little specifically about the tasks of the deacons. They, as well as the presbyters, can baptise on the authority of the bishop. The deacons count among the duces, leaders, of the community, which indicates some kind of role in the administration. In the works that are certainly written by Tertullian,25 it is never mentioned that the deacons should have special responsibility for charitable tasks (care for the poor and sick, distribution of money etc.); instead, he says that performing works of charity is a task given to all Christians.26 There is one interesting possibility, though, that during times of persecution it might have been a task of the deacons to deliver food and encouragement to imprisoned Christians. Tertullian writes in the beginning of Ad martyras, a letter of encouragement intended for imprisoned Christians (1.1), that food parcels were brought to the prison by both “our lady mother the Church” and individual Christians.27 Somebody brought to the prisoners his letter of encouragement, too. From his way of making a distinction between “our lady mother the Church” and individual Christians, we can assume that some of the office-holders were included. He does not tell who actually did act in the name and authority of the Church; he had of course no need to write it down as those 22 

An. 9.4; Virg.17.3. to Ambrosiaster, the Cataphrygian Montanists ordained female deacons (Comm. in Ep.  1 ad Tim. 3.8–11). For more on this theme, see Christine Trevett, Montanism: Gender, Authority and the New Prophecy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996). 24 Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 172. 25  I do not discuss the Martyrdom of Perpetua and Felicitas here in more detail. This text comes from the same milieu as Tertullian, and it has been suggested that he is the author of some parts of it. This text gives more information on deacons in North Africa in Tertullian’s time. See Bart J. Koet, “Dreaming about Deacons in the Passio Perpetuae” in this volume. 26  Apol. 39; Ux. 2.4. 27  See also Jeiun. 12; Ux. 2.4. 23 According

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who got his letter saw the letter-bearer.28 The idea that these were deacons (or deacons and presbyters) is supported by the contemporary parallel story in the Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas (3). There, those who help the prisoners and bribe the custodians to ease their life for some hours are identified as the deacons Pomponius and Tertius. Later in the same text, the deacons help the martyrs-to-be in other ways, too. In ch. 6, Perpetua sends the deacon Pomponius to fetch her baby, and in ch. 10, the same deacon appears in Perpetua’s vision as a spiritual guide. Visiting prisons was, according to the above-mentioned passage, also a task for all Christians, not only office-holders. This is attested even elsewhere in Tertullian’s texts. In a letter to his wife, Tertullian writes about women visiting prisoners and taking food to them and says that their heathen husbands would not like them to do so.29 During times of persecution, taking food parcels, spiritual encouragement in oral or written form, and other forms of help to the imprisoned Christians was an act of charity, which had many functions as McGowan has shown: it affirmed the community, and prepared the martyrs-tobe for their task in a number of ways.30 Additional support for the suggestion that visiting Christians in prisons was a special task for deacons and presbyters comes from later times in the same city. In Cyprian’s time, visiting imprisoned Christians and carrying letters to them was a task performed by the presbyters and the deacons.31 It had apparently been so even before him; Cyprian writes that it has been the practice “in past times under our predecessors” that presbyters and deacons visiting the prisons had given spiritual instruction to the confessors: And I had indeed believed that the presbyters and deacons who are there present with you would admonish and instruct you more fully concerning the law of the Gospel, as was the case always in time past under my predecessors; so that the deacons passing in and out of the prison controlled the wishes of the martyrs by their counsels, and by the Scripture precepts.32

When visiting the confessores in prisons and celebrating the Eucharist there, Cyprian advised the presbyters to take with them different deacons each time in order to avoid suspicion.33 The responsibility for the poor and needy was regarded as belonging especially to the bishop; but he could and did delegate his tasks to the deacons and presbyters. 28  On the feeding of the Martyrs, see Andrew McGowan, “Discipline and Diet: Feeding the Martyrs in Roman Carthage,” Harvard Theological Review 96/4 (2003): 455–76. 29  Ux. 2.4. 30  McGowan, “Discipline and Diet,” 474. 31  Ep.  10.1. 32  Ep.  10.1. Engl. trans. R. E. Wallis, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, 1885–1887; 10 vols.), vol.  5. 33  Ep.  4: ut presbyteri quoque qui illic apud confessores offerunt, singuli cum singulis dia­co­nis per vices alternent, quia et mutatio personarum et vicissitudo convenientium minuit invidiam.

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5. Conclusion Tertullian is possibly the harshest critic of the clergy in early Christian literature. However, he never questions the offices themselves, but rather those office-holders who do not live up to his standards. Typical for him is to emphasise the gifts and demands of the Spirit. For him, bishop, presbyter, and deacon form the sacerdotal ministry distinguished from non-sacerdotal offices and the laity. Theologically, however, he stresses the rights of lay people, who, according to Scripture, are all priests. Tertullian wrote on themes that were discussed right there and then and about themes where he saw problems in his own context. In his surviving texts, we only see glimpses of deacons – they probably were a natural part of Church life and did not give him much reason to comment. As a layperson, he did not have reason to mention deacons as bishops did. The deacons are only mentioned in connection to other offices, primarily that of bishop. His understanding of the office of a deacon does not seem to have changed during his career, but in his later texts, his moral expectations of them grew. We can compare the picture we receive from Tertullian’s texts with the situation in the same city some time later.34 In Cyprian’s time, the Carthaginian deacons appear often as receivers of Cyprian’s letters sent from exile. Together with the presbyters, they took care of the Church in Carthage in the absence of the bishop. This arrangement caused some problems in discipline: in Ep.  3.3, Cyprian reminds the deacons of their proper place by saying that Christ appointed apostles and bishops, and the apostles appointed the deacons to assist the bishops. The deacons carried letters (Ep.  75.1) and acted on the bishop’s behalf in practical charity, visiting the sick and poor.35 They also had liturgical functions assisting in baptisms and the Eucharist (De lapsis 25) and in special cases, penitence (Ep.  18). Whether all these were already the duties of deacons in Tertullian’s time, we do not know.

34  For the role of deacons in Cyprian’s time, see Burns and Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa, 372–73. For Cyprian’s dependence on Tertullian, see Adolf von Harnack, “Tertullian in der Literatur der Alten Kirche,” Kleine Schriften zur Alten Kirche: Band  1 (Leipzig: Berliner Akademieschriften, 1890–1907), 247–81. 35  Graeme Wilber Clarke, The Letters of Saint Cyprian of Carthage: vol.  1 (New York: Newman, 1984), 168.

Dreaming about Deacons in the Passio Perpetuae Bart J. Koet

In the collection of articles in this volume, the authors assess the role of deacons in the oldest sources of early Christianity. In this article, the source is the early third-century Passio sanctarum Perpetuae et Felicitatis (henceforth: Passio Perpetuae), which is a report of the martyrdom of a certain Vibia Perpetua, her servant Felicitas and their companions.1 In a collection of studies, edited by Jan Bremmer and Marco Formisano, several aspects of this text are discussed. In the preface, the editors argue that its uniqueness concerns the particular constellation of authorial voices, the problems related to gender perspectives, and the dream reports of Perpetua and Saturus. There are also unsolvable textual problems presented by its double transmission in Latin and Greek.2

1  For the three Latin versions and the only Greek version known of this passio, see Passio Sanctarum Perpetuae et Felicitatis (ed. Cornelius van Beek; Nijmegen: Dekker & Van der Vegt, 1936). For the Latin and Greek texts and a French translation: Jacqueline Amat, Passion de Perpétue et de Félicité suivi des Actes: Introduction, texte critique, traduction, commentaire et index (Paris: Cerf, 1996). For a fresh reading of the manuscripts including a new edition of the Latin text and new translation into English: Thomas J. Heffernan, The Passion of Perpetua and Felicity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). One can also find a Latin text and a new English translation in a collection of articles: Perpetua’s Passions – Multidisciplinary Approaches to the Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis (eds. Jan N. Bremmer and Marco Formisano; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). The Acta Perpetuae, a shorter version of the Passio Perpetuae is considered by most scholars as a later reworking, but see now Bremmer, “Felicitas: The Martyrdom of a Young African Women,” in Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, 35–53, esp.  37–41. Because one can find references to these Acta in the newly found letters of Augustine, Bremmer concludes that the present form of the Acta goes back to a date shortly after 260 C.E. 2  Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, v. For an assessment of the textual features of the Passio Perpetuae, see Marco Formisano, “Perpetua’s Prisons: Notes on the Margins of Literature,” in Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, 329–47. For the unique features, see the list on 330–31.

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My starting point is that the Passio Perpetuae – even if it is not an authentic document 3 – is a window on the Christian communities of the time.4 In their dreams, the martyrs encounter clerics and in prison they get help especially from deacons. What do these references tell us about leadership in those days? In this article I will deal especially with the question: What did the deacons do according to the Passio Perpetuae?5 However, before dealing with this specific question, I will sketch how the authors/readers of the Passio Perpetuae understood dreams and visions and how – according to its introduction – the readers would decode them as divine communications. 6

1. Perpetua: Dreaming in Accordance with Scripture Much has been written on Perpetua’s dreams and visions as striking and puzz­ ling features of this text.7 However, what function do they have for the different implied authors? And for the original audiences? Before focusing on the role of the clergy in the passio, it is necessary to deal with some basic assumptions about interpreting dreams and visions. First we note that when interpreting dreams, either in literature or at the breakfast table, it is always a reconstruction of the dream in the form of a narrative – we can only interpret that reconstruction. The dream reports adduced in the Passio Perpetuae are, as narratives, part of a larger narrative and we can interpret them with a literary approach. 3  For my assessment of the role of deacons in the Passio Perpetuae, the question of the extent to which the personal account of Perpetua is authentic is not essential. In literature, it is often viewed as trustworthy; see Vincent Hunink, “Did Perpetua write her prison account?,” Listy Filologické 133 (2010): nr.1–2: 147–55 and the literature mentioned there. In his preface, Heffernan (The Passion of Perpetua, IX–XI) tells how he converted from being a “sceptic” to somebody who is persuaded that the passio is a document at whose core is a historically verifiable reality. For different opinions, see Ilaria L. E. Ramelli, “Il dossier di Perpetua: Una rilettura storica e letteraria,” Rendiconti dell’Istituto Lombardo Accademia di Scienze e Lettere 139 (2005): 309–52, and Judith Perkins, Roman Imperial Identities in the Christian Era (London: Routledge, 2008), 159–71. For a summary of questions regarding date, place, title, texts, composition and genre, see Bremmer and Formisano, “Introduction,” in id., Perpetua’s Passions, 1–13, esp.  2–7. 4  Heffernan (The Passion of Perpetua, 8) sees his study as a contribution “to our understand­ ing of this zealously eschatological Christian community of early third century Carthage.” 5 In literature about ministry, Passio Perpetuae is seldom mentioned, but see William Tabber­nee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry in Carthage c. 203,” PRSt 32 (2005): 421–42. 6  In Scripture, there are several passages where God speaks through visions and dreams. Num 12:6 says that dreams and visions can have the same function and are interchangeable, even although there may be some differences. For a more elaborate discussion, see my “Scriptures and Dreams: The Prophetic Identity of the Martyr Perpetua: A Narrative Mystagogy,” in Seeing through the Eyes of Faith. New Approaches to the Mystagogy of the Church Fathers (ed. Paul van Geest; Late Antique History and Religion, 11; Leuven: Peeters, 2016), 609–628. 7  Burkhard Freiherr von Dörnberg, Traum und Traumdeutung in der Alten Kirche: Die westliche Tradition bis Augustin (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2008), 68–69.

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However, when interpreting dreams, an aspect of dream interpretation which is relevant to all dream narratives of the past, present, and future is at stake. Dream narratives partly consist of using conceptual fabrics of human experience, but at the same time they differ from daily life experiences. In the content of dreams, there are nearly always elements that are not the same as their equivalents in waking life. But as dreams use the concepts of waking life we cannot say that they are the opposite of waking life. The philosopher Jeremy Barris aptly typifies dreams as meta-conceptual.8 A consequence of this meta-conceptual identity of dreams is that in dreams we meet daily experience as well as unexpected realities. So in analysing the Passio Perpetuae, we should expect to find both the reality of the clergy of Carthage in those days as well as the distortion of this reality. This distortion will also help us to understand the role of deacons for Perpetua. An assumption about the dreams and visions in this passio is that, according to Perpetua, her special kind of dreaming is a real communication with God. In the fourth chapter, Perpetua’s brother, who is also a catechumen and is imprisoned with her, tells her that she now (after her baptism? Or because she is in prison?) will be entitled to ask about her future in the dreams: passion or release. From the discussion between them we learn that the fact that she can ask for dreams as divine communication is seen by them as a special and remarkable grace. Perpetua herself confirms that she can converse with God (me sciebam fabulari cum Domino) and, indeed, after asking she gets a vision (Et postulavi, et ostensum est mihi hoc, 4.2) and promises that she will answer his question the next day (4.2).9 Several scholars argue that the Latin word fabulari suggests that Perpetua can have a “homely” conversation with God.10 Asking for a dream is well-known in Hellenistic circles. One can find an elaborate example in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses 11. The protagonist Lucius prays in the temple of Isis and asks for a solution to his problems. Immediately after falling asleep he 8  See Jeremy Barris, “Dreams as Meta-Conceptual or Existential Experience,” Philosophia 42 (2014): 625–44. For an assessment of fantastic elements in visionary/apocalyptic texts (Revelation; Pastor Hermae; Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis; Story of Zosimus), see Marco Frenschkowski, “Vision als Imagination: Beobachtungen zum differenzierten Wirklichkeitsanspruch frühchristlicher Visionsliteratur,” in Fremde Wirklichkeiten: Literarische Phantastik und antike Literatur (eds. Nicola Hömke and Manuel Baumbach; Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag Winter, 2006), 339–66; Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 248–54) also discusses the special effects of dream narratives on the reader in his commentary. 9  It is suggested by some that dream incubation is involved. It is not possible to discuss this issue extensively here, but it seems to me that dream incubation needs more preparation than we find in this passage: see Von Dörnberg, Traum und Traumdeutung in der Alten Kirche, 84. In the Acta Perpetuae (3.1), the relation between praying and receiving the vision is less clear. 10 See Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 171. Katarina Waldner, “Visions, Prophecy, and Authority in the Passio Perpetuae,” in Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, 201–19, here 214: “Fabulari means having everyday conversation with.”

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receives answers to his question.11 In contrast to the elaborate description of the prayer and questions of Lucius, the reference to the asking of Perpetua is quite short, but she does get a dream, which she recounts in the following part (4.3–9). The function of Perpetua’s dreaming concurs to a certain extent with biblical traditions that such divine communication could take place in dreams and visions. An important text about dreams and visions as divine communication is Num 12:1–8 and especially 6–8.12 According to that text, God speaks in dreams and visions to the prophets, but to Moses he speaks mouth to mouth, face to face. The arguments for the assumption that Perpetua’s dreams can be seen as divine communication are already brought to the fore in the introduction, where the editor argues that dreams can be prophetic and that there are also prophetic dreams in his time.13 The editor prefaces the testimonies of Perpetua and Saturus with a principled statement (1–2). He argues that in their time (in praesenti suo tempore) the newer events are not considered worthwhile because they are so recent. In those days, the idea was common that only what is ancient could be of importance.14 The editor denies it and then takes it one step further. The – at that time – recent martyrdoms of Perpetua and Felicitas will one day become old and therefore respected examples (documenta). For him, the more recent events should perhaps be considered on an even higher scale, because of the overflow of grace promised for the end time (1,3: secundum exuperationem gratiae in ultima saeculi spatim decretam). The editor legitimises this by referring explicitly to a biblical text, Acts  2:17– 18a. Joel 2:28–34 is quoted by Peter in the beginning of Acts as a sign of the new age, which has arrived with the death and resurrection of Jesus (2:17–21).15 The prophet promises the gift of the Spirit, but he also announces to Israel that its sons and daughters shall prophesy, that its old men will dream dreams, and that 11  See James Gollnick, The Religious Dreamworld of Apuleius’ Metamorphoses: Recovering a Forgotten Hermeneutic (Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1999). 12  For Num 12:6–8 being used through the centuries as a proof text for the possibility that dreams can be divine communication in Christian traditions, see Bart J. Koet, “Introducing Dreaming from Hermas to Aquinas,” in id. (ed.), Dreams as Divine Communication, 1–21, 7–9. 13  For the idea that in some later Jewish traditions dreams and visions can be typified as trustworthy when they are legitimised by another divine Word – scriptural tradition, see my “Trustworthy Dreams? About Dreams and References to Scripture in 2 Macc 14–15, Josephus’ Antiquitates Judaicae 11.302–347 and in the New Testament,” in Persuasion and Dissuasion in Early Christianity, Ancient Judaism, and Hellenism (eds. Pieter W. van der Horst et al.; Leuven: Peeters, 2003), 87–107; now in id., Dreams and Scripture in Luke-Acts: Collected Essays (Leuven: Peeters, 2006), 25–50. 14  For this principle, see Peter Pilhofer, Presbyteron Kreitton: Der Altersbeweis der jüdi­ schen und christlichen Apologeten und seine Vorgeschichte (Tübingen: J.C.B Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1990). 15  In some Bible editions, Joel 3:1–5 is indicated as 2:28–32. For a discussion of the origin, form, and function of the quotation, see my “Prophetic Identity of the Martyr Perpetua.”

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its young men will see visions. The quotation formula: “thus speaks the Lord” (or “God”; Acts  2:17), determines the reference as a quotation. Some scholars suggest that the reference to Joel is related to possible Montanist influence.16 I do not want to enter that discussion here, but I note that it is not a reference to Joel, but obviously a quote from Acts and that in Acts (which is seldom typified as Montanistic), the Joel quotation is used in a parallel way to the reference to Acts in the Passio Perpetuae.17 The editor begins by addressing a potential objection to the authenticity of the following dreams – dreams were not only prophetic in the past, but there are also prophetic dreams in his own time. It is this prophetic stature which is at stake when Perpetua and Saturus interact with the leaders of the community.

2. Leadership in Early Christianity Sara Parvis, in her introductory article on Perpetua, stresses that this diary is the first example of Christian autobiography and that Perpetua gives us a glimpse of her private life and of the way she constructs her Christian identity.18 Arpad P. Orban argues that these dreams are our most important source for popular, non-theological ideas of the afterlife in the early Christian centuries.19 Passio Perpetuae also informs us about the relationship (and tensions) between the martyrs and the leaders of the community. In this article, however, I focus on the role of deacons as ministers in an early Christian community.20 Leadership and ministry are always in development. Especially in crisis situations, managers and leaders have to adapt to new situations. This was also the case in the beginning of Christianity. Although there was possibly some continuity in forms of leadership between mainstream Judaism and the new party of 16  Rex D. Butler (The New Prophesy and “New Visions”: Evidence of Montanism in the Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas [Washington DC: Catholic University of America, 2006]) particularly argues that there are quite a few Montanistic elements in the Passio Perpetuae. 17  For the quotation of Joel 2:28–32 in Acts  2 , see my “Prophetic Identity of the Martyr Perpetua.” This quotation is at a decisive point in the narrative of Luke-Acts and it discloses how the disciples will be shown the way through visions and dreams. 18  Sara Parvis, “Perpetua,” The Expository Times 120 (2009): 365–72, 365. 19  Arpad P. Orban, “The Afterlife in Passio Perpetuae,” in Fructus Centesimus, Mélanges offert à Gerard J.M. Bartelink à l’occasion de son soixante-cinquième anniversaire (eds. Anton A.R Bastiaensen et al.; Steenbrugge: Brepols, 1989), 269–77, here 270–71. 20 The passio also gives references to liturgical practices. In 17.1, the martyrs have their last meal. However, they consider it to be an agape meal (non cenam liberam, sed agapem). In the early Church, this was the designation for a meal of fellowship eaten probably during (or after) a liturgical service. Like the terms for clergy, the Latin retains the Greek term. The reference to the shepherd who gives Perpetua a handful of cheese probably has some eucharistic overtones. Perpetua receives the cheese in cupped hands and all the people around her say “amen.” The Shepherd refers to Perpetua as tegnon, the Greek word for child. There are some other Greek words used in Latin: Horama “divine vision” in 11.1 and diastema, “gulf” in 7.6.

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the followers of Jesus, some specific forms of Jewish ministry became less important.21 While, according to Acts, the first followers of Jesus still worshipped in the Temple, their organization also had its own structure. There was probably also some influence from the non-Jewish Hellenistic world.22 In the days of nascent Christianity, Jewish Temple service ceased due to the destruction of the Temple. That may be one of the reasons why priesthood as a form of leadership, with its entwinement with the ministry of bringing atoning sacrifices, fades into the background. The first followers of Jesus are at the same time reluctant to use pagan priestly titles.23 Relatively “outsider” terms like ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι are coined to identify the leadership and ministry roles.24 The exact history of the development of leadership ministries in the first few generations of the early Church is shrouded in obscurity. However, we do get occasional glimpses of the different developing ministries thanks to some of our sources. Here I will only sketch shortly some of the sources to give the background of the leadership in the Passio Perpetuae. Even in the original letters of Paul there are hints of possible forms of leadership in the communities to which he wrote his epistles. Countless pages are written to deal with Paul’s apostleship. Less attention is paid to the fact that Paul is the one who introduces the “title” διάκονος for himself and for his colleagues. This title will later be a clear cut title of an ecclesiastical ministry.25 However, he also depicts some of the leaders as συνεργός and even as οίκονόμος. In Paul’s day, the latter word is often used to qualify an official working in ­several administrative contexts.26 21  For the continuity between Jewish ministries and those of the early Church, see James T. Burtchaell, From Synagogue to Church: Public Services and Offices in the Earliest Christian Communities (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). 22 Alistair C. Stewart (The Original Bishops: Office and Order in the First Christian Communities [Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014]) argues that the first Christians found the concept of an episkopos in the Hellenistic world. For my review about this book, see International Journal of Philosophy and Theology (76) 2015: 369–72. 23  See, for example, the long tirade against pagan priests by Tertullian (c. 160–c. 225 C.E.) in his On Idolatry. 24  However, 1 Clement argues that these ministries have their roots in the Old Testament. Although there are differences between the ministry of Israel and that of Christianity, Clement takes from the OT two arguments, which he applies to Christian ministry: both are a two-fold ministry and both are of divine origin (see 1 Clem.  42.5). See my “Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Understanding the Two-fold Ministry of ἐπισκοποι and διἀκονοι according to 1 Clement (1 Clem.  42:5),” in The Scriptures of Israel in Jewish and Christian Tradition (eds. Bart J. Koet et al.; FS Maarten J. J. Menken: Leiden: Brill, 2013), 345–62, esp.  359–61. Reprinted in this volume. 25 For διάκονος in Paul, see Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien der Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 90–184. 26  For Paul as οίκονόμος, see John Goodrich, Paul as an Administrator of God in 1 Corinthians (Cambridge; Cambridge University Press, 2012), see my review in International Journal of Philosophy and Theology 2014 (75): 467–71.

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The root of the word apostle (ἀπόστολοι) discloses that their function is rooted in their being sent (ἀποστέλλω) by the Lord (see 1 Cor  12:28). According to Acts, their mission was sealed when they received the gifts of the Spirit (2:1–3) and their mission is limited to the number of twelve and to a certain period in the life of the ecclesia. Only those who accompanied the apostles the whole time that the Lord Jesus was with them are eligible to be apostles and thus, according to Acts, the ministry of “apostle” was deemed to be temporary. However, they are not the only “charismatic” leaders. Agabus, one of the prophets, is also inspired (11:27–28; see 21:10–11). Paul himself, as is clear from his epistles and from Luke’s presentation of him in Acts, can be seen as an example of wandering leadership. In Acts, along with apostleship, other functions occur as well, such as teachers and prophets in Antioch (13:1) and πρεσβυτέροι (20:17–38). We even find a hint of a leadership position based on family circumstances as James, the brother of Jesus, takes the lead (see 15:13–21 and 21:18–25). For some time, apostles and prophets seem to have coexisted with an emerging local ministry of ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι. It is often assumed that Did. 11.1– 6 depicts itinerant teachers.27 These teachers are depicted as apostles and prophets. In Did. 15.1–2, we hear about a partial parallel between the itinerant missionaries and the ministers who stay in the community. Prophets and teachers are presented as a kind of parallel with ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι.28 At the same time some charismatic leaders are, to some extent, presented as a kind of institutional leader (see Acts  1:15–26 and 6:1–7 and 1 Tim  3:1–13). In Acts, one can find a collegium of twelve apostles, assisted by another forum of seven, and thus in Acts  6:1–7, Luke seems to present a two-fold structure of ministry. The apostles appoint the Seven as “assistants” sharing their διάκονία. Philip’s actions in Acts  8:9–17 seem to presume a two-fold structure. Philip proclaims the Word in Samaria. After he has baptised several people, including ­Simon – who later in history became known as a magician – the apostles come to Samaria and they impose their hands on the new disciples so that they may receive the Holy Spirit (8:17).29 In Acts  6 and the following chapters, this leadership is two-fold.30 Although in the writings of the Apostolic Fathers, like 27  See Clayton N. Jefford, “Understanding the Concept of Deacon in the Didache” in this volume. 28  For an assessment of the relationship between these two groups, see Aaron Milavec, The Didache: Faith, Hope and Life of the Earliest Christian Communities, 50–70 CE (Mahwah, N.J.; Newman, 2003), 591–98. For the continuity between 1 Tim  3 and Did. 15, see Huub van de Sandt and David Flusser, The Didache: Its Jewish Sources and its Place in Early Judaism and Christianity (Assen: Van Gorcum, 2002), 339, 350–53. 29  See Joke H.A. Brinkhof, “Philip, One of the Seven in Acts (6:1–6; 8:4–40; 21:8),” in this volume. 30  For the origin of hierarchy, see John St. H. Gibaut, The Cursus Honorum: A Study and Evolution of Sequential Ordination (New York: Peter Lang, 2000); see my article “Diakon: Adjudant des Bischofs oder Sprungbrett zur Priestschaft. Randbemerkungen zur jüngsten

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1 Clem.  42.1–5, Herm. Vis. 3.5.1, and in the text of Did. 15.1–2, mentioned above, we find several texts where there seems to be a two-fold ministry, often Ignatius of Antioch is put forward as the first witness of the three-fold ministry: bishop, presbyters, and deacons.31 In a kind of typology of the three ministries, he directs that everyone should honour the deacons as they do Jesus Christ, likewise they honour the bishop, as a reflection of the Father, and the presbyters as a council meeting (sic!) of God and as the college of apostles (Ign. Trall. 3.1). However, the special tie between deacons and the bishop reappears here: they belong together like sons and father, while the presbyters are presented as a collegium.32

3. Ministry in the Passio Perpetuae It is against this background that we now ask, what kind of ministry or leadership exists in the community that we encounter in the Passio Perpetuae? William Tabbernee, in his assessment of the Montanistic content, examines the extent to which there are references to what he calls the catholic church in this text.33 One of the possible indicators could be the clergy mentioned in the several layers of this document. In his article, Tabbernee gives a useful list of the possible ministries in the Passio Perpetuae. However, later I will especially reflect on the fact that we meet the clergy in dreams. Tabbernee argues that most of the data are incidental and that one can find them in each of the different layers of the passio: a) in Perpetua’s own account; b) in Saturus’ account, and c) in the framing of the editor. According to Tabbernee, in a) Perpetua refers explicitly to only one clerical title: diaconus. In 3.7, she tells the reader that two blessed deacons (benedicti diaconi) were ministering to them (ministrabant; imperfect of ministrare; in Greek we find a form of Studie über Cursus Honorum,” Diaconia Christi 41 (2006): 41–46. See Alexandre Faivre, Naissance d’une hiérarchie: Les premières étapes du cursus clérical (Paris: Cerf, 1977). 31  See Ign. Magn. 6.1: “Be zealous to do all things in harmony with God, with the bishop presiding in the place of God and the presbyters in the place of the Council of the Apostles and the deacons who are most dear to me, entrusted with the service (διάκονία) of Jesus Christ, who was from eternity with the Father and was made manifest at the end of time” (trans. Kirsopp Lake). See Ign. Smyrn. 8:1 and Ign. Phld. 4. 32  I think that in Ignatius’ presentation of the three-fold ministry, the two-fold ministry model is still there and thus the transition seems more fluent than is often sketched: see my “The Bishop and his Deacons: Ignatius of Antioch’s View on Ministry: Two-fold or Threefold?” in Sanctifying Texts, Transforming Rituals (eds. Paul van Geest, Marcel Poorthuis and Els Rose; FS Gerard Rouwhorst: Leiden: Brill, 2017), 171–90. Reprinted in this volume. 33 For the following, see Tabbernee (“Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 439–40). In the editor’s comments, he finds some possible implicit hints at other offices in the Passio Perpetuae like lectores (for example, 21.11?) However, this is only a presumption, since they are not mentioned in the Passio Perpetuae.

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the Greek διακον-root).34 Their names are Tertius and Pomponius and thanks to their “bribe” the prisoners could go to a better part of the prison. Referring to Tertullian (Bapt. 17.1–2 and Praescr. 3.5), Tabbernee argues that they were part of the regular order of ministry within the Carthaginian church, but he does not mention that, in the early church, there was a special relationship ­between bishops and deacons. As assistants of the bishop, deacons could be ­responsible for the care of those who are in prison. It seems to me that the re­ ference to this diaconal task indicates that they function here as ministers of the (local) church.35 Tabbernee argues that one can find doctor as the second ministry in Perpe­ tua’s account. He refers to Saturus, because it is he who had instructed (“built”) them (quia ipse nos aedificaverat).36 Tabbernee argues that, as it is Saturus who taught them, he had to be their catechist.37 He remarks that, in the Carthaginian church, the ordinary Latin word, doctor, was used for the instructor or teacher, Saturus was therefore their doctor. That is possible, but not necessary. In Saturus’ dream, the presbyter Aspasius is also called doctor, and therefore such a title was not uncommon in the community of Perpetua and Saturus. Therefore, as Perpetua does not refer to him as doctor, we cannot be certain that he had such a “title.” It is better to stick to the fact that although it is quite certain that according the Greek and Latin version he functioned as their teacher, he does not get a title. This is in fact not unusual since in the early church the ministries were still in a formative period.38 The next possible ministry referred to in Perpetua’s account, as proposed by Tabbernee, is prophetis or propheta.39 He argues that as a confessor and martyr-­ 34 See Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 432–33. In the first instance, he suggests that in non-ecclesiastical Latin benedicti diaconi simply means “approved servants” and that thus these diaconi were just servants of the household of Perpetua. This seems to me incorrect. The loan word diaconus came into Latin via the ecclesiastical office, just like words such as episcopus, presbyterus and ecclesia. Later Tabbernee (432) rightly assumes that they were ecclesiastical ministers and he refers to several writings of Tertullian as possible parallels. His argument is that, because Perpetua and her companions were imprisoned because they were related to Christianity, the diaconi acted as ecclesiastics. I would like to argue, that the designation “diaconi” tout court already indicates an ecclesiastical ministry. 35  Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 162) remarks that the diaconate did not require ordination. He does not give any arguments for this statement. On the other hand, Tabbernee (“Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 432) and Amat (Passion de Perpétue, 198) say that deacons received an ordination. On the basis of the available sources we cannot say anything definitive about such an ordination, but because we hear about the laying on of hands in Acts  6 and in later sources, like the various church orders, such a continuing tradition of a kind of ordination is at least probable. 36  In most manuscripts one can find the sentence quia ipse nos aedificavit. 37  Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 432–33. 38  In this context, it is notable that in the versions of the Acta SS Perpetuae et Felicitatis, Saturus is not presented as their teacher, but from the beginning as one of the martyrs. In Textus A, he becomes Saturninus’ brother (Acta I.1). 39  Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 433–34.

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to-be, Perpetua could ask for prophetic dreams and visions. He rightly refers to several examples of the high esteem of the African church for confessors. Although, according to him, confessor/martyr and prophet(ess) are not synonymous, Tabbernee argues that Perpetua and Saturus were considered likely prophet(esse)s. I agree that they become prophetic figures. However, because they did not get the title itself, I would be more hesitant to typify them as having a “title” prophet, especially because in the fluid situation of the nascent ministry, it is not self-evident that those titles were involved.40 Tabbernee thinks that by referring to her baptism, Perpetua possibly refers to a bishop, since according to him, the baptismal liturgy was normally performed by the bishop. However, the baptism is only mentioned in passing. Although there are no details about how Perpetua and her company were baptised and by whom, it is clear that they were baptised while they were under arrest (3,1: cum prosecutoribus essemus).41 We find quite a few details regarding baptism as practised in third-century Carthage in Tertullian’s De baptismo. In Chapter 17, he says that the chief priest (Summus sacerdos; the bishop!) has the right to baptise, while the presbyters and deacons (like Philip in Acts  8) may baptise, but only with consent of the bishop. According to him laymen also have the right; for what is equally received can be equally given. Unless bishops, or presbyters, or deacons, are on the spot, other disciples are called to baptise.42 Since the martyrs-to-be are baptised during their arrest,43 it is thus possible that they are baptised by one of the prisoners themselves. However, it is more probable, but not certain, that one of the deacons baptised them, given that, just after the reference to the baptism, we are told that deacons came to the prison. This would be in line with what Tertullian said in De baptismo. That the deacons are go-betweens between the martyrs-to-be and the world outside the prison is confirmed in 6,7–8, where Pomponius asks for Perpetua’s son back from her father. Tabbernee also investigates the references to clergy in Saturus’ account, which consists of one, quite extensive, dream narrative (11.2–13).44 In his dream, Saturus and Perpetua are guided into a heavenly place after their martyrium by four angels. There they meet four other martyrs and are brought to the whitehaired man with a youthful face surrounded by seniores. After a ritual encounter between Saturus and Perpetua and the man on the throne, they go outside 40 

For Perpetua as a prophetic figure, see my “Prophetic Identity of the Martyr Perpetua.” See Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 155–56. 42  See the article of Anni Maria Laato, “Tertullian and the Deacons,” in this volume. For another assessment of the details regarding baptism in Carthage in the third century in the writings of Cyprian, see Victor Saxer, Vie liturgique et quotidienne à Carthage vers le milieu du IIIe Siècle: Le témoignage de Saint Cyprien et de ses contemporains d’Afrique (Citta del Vaticano, Roma: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Christiana, 1969), 117–28. 43  See Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 59. 44  See Bremmer, “Vision of Saturus in the Passio Perpetuae.” 41 

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and there meet Optatus, the bishop (episcopus), and Aspasius, the priest (presbyter) and teacher (doctor). Tabbernee argues that the seniores resemble the council of seniores which was in Carthage.45 He distinguishes between these seniores, who were older men, lay people akin to community elders, and presbyteri, who were senior clergy.46 As argued by several scholars, the mention of these elders reminds us of passages in Revelation and especially of 4.4: And around the throne were twenty-four thrones, and upon the thrones I saw twenty four elders sitting, clothed in white garments and golden crowns on their heads.47

Tabbernee suggests that Saturus’ vision combines apocalyptic/celestial imagery with an earthly/liturgical model. According to him, the enthroned Christ is surrounded by a council of elders who perform liturgical functions. This is a mirror image of the bishop seated on the cathedra surrounded by his council of elders who perform certain liturgical functions in ecclesia.48 Tabbernee refers to the fact that the elders described in this part of Saturus’ vision are called seniores, while the Latin term presbyter is used to designate Aspasius the presbyterus doctor (13.1).49 This confirms that there was a difference between them. Tabbernee argues that this reference to Aspasius proves the existence of presbyters – as distinct from seniores – in Carthage. He does not assess the meaning of this reference.50 His assessment of episcopus is more elaborate. Saturus’ record of his vision provides explicit evidence that in the beginning of the third century the Carthaginian church had an episcopus.51 According to Saturus’ account, when Perpetua and Saturus left the place where they met the old man with a youthful face, they see the episcopus Optatus on the right and Aspasius, on the left, in front of the door standing apart from each other (seperatus) and looking sad (13.1).52 One of the possible reasons of this sadness is probably revealed in the following. They fall on their feet (sic) and ask 45 

In the Greek version, these men are indicated by presbuteroi. Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 437. 47 Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 288. 48  For this council of seniors, see Brent D. Shaw, “The Elders of Christian Africa,” in Pierre Brind’Amour et al., Mélanges offerts en hommage au Réverend Père Étienne Gareau (Quebec: Editions de l’Université d’Ottawa, Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières, Société des études anciennes du Québec, 1982), 207–26. See also my “Bishop and his Deacons”. 49  In the Greek text, there is no equivalent of the term doctor. This possibly indicates that for the Greek audience the term presbyter suffices. For Aspasius, see Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 57–58. Referring to Tertullian, Praescr. 3.5 Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 57–58) suggests that as presbyter-doctor, Aspasius was responsible for the catechumens. 50  Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 438. 51 Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 438. In his book about the origin of bishops, Stewart (Original Bishops, 314) refers to the Passio Perpetuae only in passing. This passio is one of the earlier attestations of an episcopus in Africa. 52  Bremmer, “Vision of Saturus in the Passio Perpetuae,” 67: “The standing apart of both clerics is evidently symbolic of the dissensions within their congregation, and it is remarkable that they prostrate themselves before the lay persons Saturus and Perpetua.” 46 

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the martyrs to reconcile them! Tabbernee rightly refers to the implication: it seems that these clerics attribute to the martyrs the authority to do so. However, the martyrs refuse and point them to their positions: Are you not our papa (again a Greek word in a Latin context) and you the presbyter? Despite this slightly reproaching question Perpetua starts to talk to them in Greek. However, the angels ask the clerics to leave the martyrs alone. They even confuse them (conturbaverunt) and say to Optatus that he has to correct his people, because they resemble the mob who returns from the circus! Tabbernee argues that in this vision the locus of ecclesiastical authority is shifted from the martyrs to the bishop. This is possibly overstressing the evidence. It is true that in the beginning the martyrs seem to have a higher moral status than the clerics. However, they do not get an official status and when the angels exhort Optatus to take his responsibility again, that does not say that he suddenly gets again his (presumably lost) authority back. I should like to argue that indeed here is a tension between the moral authority of the martyrs and the moral authority of the clerics, who are in a dispute with each other, albeit about something that is not revealed to us (and therefore this is probably not the most important issue). Optatus’ responsibility seems to be undermined by the fact that he cannot stimulate his flock in a proper way. Both clerics are reproached for the dissensions, but only Optatus has to correct his flock. This suggests that there was a difference between them and that Optatus is in charge as the episcopus, the overseer and the supervisor of the community, while the presbyter in the Latin version is typified as a teacher.

4. Dreaming about the Clergy In addition to the factual evidence for the existence of clergy in this part of Africa described above, we can find evidence for the role of the clergy in the life of the communities in the dreams and visions. Above, we saw that in Saturus’ dream certain tensions between what one can call charismatic leadership and the beginnings of institutional leaders are alluded to. Tabbernee rightly assumes that the bishop’s and presbyter’s appeal to settle a dispute between them provides a glimpse into the life of the early community.53 He suggests that there was a three-fold form of authority: a three-fold order of ordained clergy, a group of lay elders (seniores) and confessors and martyrs. He says, that “it appears that this tripartite episcope worked well in that in provided an appropriate system of ‘checks and balances.’”54 Although I see some problems for the actual working process of such a tripartite authority (for example, Perpetua and Saturus are 53 

54 

Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 438–40. Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 441.

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martyrs and therefore dead; how can they function as leaders in the community?), the narrative of the passio Perpetuae indeed shows the high esteem of the early African church for these martyrs.55 This is clear from several indications in the dream narrative of Saturus. When they enter the after-life situations, the angels not only guide them, but also give them honour (Honorem nobis dederunt) and admire them (cum admiratione), and Perpetua and Saturus are invested with special clothes, each receiving a white stole. In his discussion about the colour of early Christian clothing, Wilpert argued a long time ago that “white” is selected to depict the clothes of Jesus during the transfiguration (see Matt 17:1–9/Mark 9:2–10/Luke 9:28–36; especially Mark 9:2/Luke 9:29), because white is the “colour” of light, while black is the “colour” of darkness.56 Thus the inhabitants of heaven wear white (see Rev 7:9–14). Wilpert refers to the Passio Perpetuae 4.8 when Perpetua in her first vision enters a garden of paradise and sees candidati millia multa. He mentions the vision of Saturus and remarks that these angels clothed them in white stoles.57 Wilpert refers to Rev 3:5, where it is said that he who overcomes shall be clothed in white garments and will be in the Book of Life and his name will be confessed before the Father and his angels. The stola candida of Perpetua and Saturus reminds us of the stola candida of the angel in Mark 16:5 (in Greek stole leuke). It can evoke the fact that in later centuries deacons received a stola candida during their ordination.58 Although it is impossible to prove that this is a historical connection, it seems to me undeniable that the gesture of bestowing a stola candida is a kind of investiture and that it shows how well regarded the martyrs are. Another indication of this high esteem is the fact that Optatus and Aspasius ask Perpetua and Saturus to make peace between them (Componite inter nos), because the martyrs were gone and had left these clerics in the state of dissension. This shows that according to this dream narrative the martyrs are capable of correcting the bishop and the presbyter and even when it is something of a wish fulfilment dream it teaches the reader/hearer that such a relation between martyrs and clergy can be possible. 55  In later church orders one can find still this reverence. Confessors did not need an ordination, because they were “sanctified or ordained” with their confession in the court, see, for example, Trad. Ap.  9. 56  Joseph Wilpert, Die Gewandung der Christen in den ersten Jahrhunderten: Vornehmlich nach den Katakomben-Malereien dargestellt (Keulen: Commissions-Verlag, 1898), 28–29. 57  This is the meaning of the Greek text. For a discussion about the ambiguous Latin text (introeuntes vestierunt; who is being dressed here?), see Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 286. 58  In later tradition, a stola candida refers to the deacon’s stole. The oldest deacon stoles were white; see Fourth Council of Toledo (in 633), canon 40. The whole phenomenon of stole as a sign of a ministry is quite complicated. There is a relation with the orarium. As early as the canones of the Synod of Laodicae, the lesser clergy are forbidden to use an orarium. According to the ninth canon of the Synod of Braga (563), wearing a stole makes the difference between the deacons and sub-deacons. Later, not only deacons but also priests and bishops wear stoles. During the ordination ritual these clerics received a stole.

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5. Dreaming about the Deacon Pomponius It is Perpetua’s fourth vision, her most complex and surreal dream, that is probably the most frequently investigated one. One of the perplexing motives in this dream narrative is that Perpetua changes gender. However, in the dream images in this vision, there are indications about the role of the clergy in the life of the early Christians. In his discussion of this chapter Heffernan stresses that this is a dream and as a dream it must follow the logic of dream narratives.59 He argues that this fourth dream is structurally related to the first one and that it confirms the prophecy that Perpetua will die, but as a martyr will triumph over death. In the dream, on the day before they will fight, the deacon Pomponius comes to the door of the prison and knocks vehemently. It is Perpetua herself who opens this door. Pomponius leads her to the amphitheatre through places that are rugged and winding. After some encouraging words he leaves her. A certain Egyptian enters the stage, surrounded by helpers. Her helpers and supporters (adiutores and fautores) strip her and she becomes a man (facta sum masculus). A man of great size holding a staff like a trainer (quasi lanista) enters. He announces that, if the Egyptian wins, he will kill Perpetua, but if she defeats him, she will receive a branch (ramus) with golden apples. Perpetua wins and receives the branch from the lanista. She now knows that she will fight with the devil, but also that victory will be hers (10.14). Here I want to focus on the role of the deacon Pomponius, the one with whom the dream narrative starts. He comes to the door of the prison and knocks vehemently. Heffernan shows that Chapter Nine ended “with the pathetic image of her pitiable, beaten, and dejected father,” while “[T]he opening line in Chapter X begins with the contrasting image of the confident and bold deacon, Pomponius.”60 He suggests that thus her biological father is replaced by Pomponius, her spiritual father. Pomponius’ outfit is special. He wears a white unbelted tunica (discincta candida). 61 Especially his footwear is remarkable: multilaced sandals (multiplices galliculas). 62 Heffernan thinks that he is a mixture of a Christ-type with Mercury. 63 However, within the dream narrative, the special sandals refer to the lani59 Heffernan,

Passion of Perpetua, 248–54, here 249. Passion of Perpetua, 250. 61  In the Greek version he is wearing a tunic with a belt! 62 Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 257) argues that Gallicula is post-classical and that this is the first attestation. He suggests that it is derived from caligula, the shoe worn by Roman soldiers. The word caligula became well-known in history, because it was the nickname of Gaius, the cruel Roman emperor from 37–42. Caligula is the diminutive form of caliga, a hob-nailed military boot (see Suetonius, Cal. 9.1). 63 Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 257. 60 Heffernan,

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sta look-a-like because he has also these special sandals (galliculas multiformes). 64 The lanista is also wearing an unbelted tunic (in the Latin version: discinctatus). However, he himself is not only far bigger, his clothes are far more expensive. The unbelted tunic is a purple garment with two stripes running down from the middle of the chest (purpuram inter duos clavos per medium pectus habens). This tunic indicates a certain status. Also his footwear shows his high position. His sandals are decorated with gold and silver (ex auro et argento factas).65 The similar style of clothing shows that there is a special relationship between these figures. 66 This relation also becomes manifest in certain resemblances between what these figures say. Before leaving Perpetua, Pomponius says: “Don’t be afraid, I am here with you (hic sum tecum), and I will work together (col­ laboro tecum) with you.”67 Tecum is used only three times in the passio: twice here, and once on the lips of the lanista. After Perpetua’s victory he says: filia, pax tecum. 68 There is another connection between the two men. While the deacon is a kind of mental coach, the lanista look-a-like refers to physical coaching. In a psycho-analytical analysis of this dream Hartmut Böhme argues that, because of his magnificent vestments and majestic sovereignty, in his guises of judge and redeemer and eschatological peace-giver, the lanista represents the internalised and transcendent presence of Jesus Christ within Perpetua.69 This seems to be a nice theological statement for a psycho-analyst (perhaps overstressing the Christological theme); however, it slightly overlooks the data of the dream narrative itself. In the dream, the lanista is related to Pomponius and they both care for Perpetua. In “real life,” Pomponius had already fulfilled this task as deacon twice. According to 3.7, he had access to the prisoners, together with Tertius, another deacon. Pomponius is also the one who asks Perpetua’s father to give her son back to her (6.7). Although this mission fails, it does show how Perpetua trusted this deacon and asked him to fulfil delicate missions.70 64 Wilpert, Gewandung der Christen in den ersten Jahrhunderten, 32: “Die Beiwörter multiplices und multiformes ex auro et argento factas beziehen sich auf die goldenen und silbernen Verzierungen die auf den Riemen, oft in kunstvoller Ausstattung angebracht warden.” 65  There is a manuscript which makes the similarity of Pomponius and the lanista even more explicit as it has an addition in 10.2 ex auro et argento, referring to the sandals of Pomponius. See Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 111. 66  Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 252–53) also notes that there is a special relation between the diaconus and the lanista, but he gives less attention to the similar clothing. 67  Conlaboro is a Christian word. See Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 260. 68 David Konstan (“Perpetua’s Martyrdom and the Metamorphosis of Narrative,” in Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, 290–99, here 294) sees Pomponius as a father substitute who encourages and assists Perpetua before the trial and, as the giant arbiter, reappears during the contest and in the end addresses her as filia. 69  Hartmut Böhme, “The Conquest of the Real by the Imaginary. On the Passio Perpe­ tuae,” in Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, 220–43, here 231; see Habermehl, Perpetua, 182. 70  Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 48) suggests that Pomponius acts twice in Perpetua’s

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It is therefore not surprising that Pomponius in dream life gives “dreamster” Perpetua feelings of reassurance and that the lanista, as a transformed and enlarged Pomponius, completes this reassurance. And thus it became true that Pomponius, although he left, was there with her! In his assessment of the fantastic element in early Christian literature, Marco Frenschkowski is hesitant to qualify the dream of Perpetua as fantastic. He argues that, although the gender transformation is fanciful, the message of this vision is not ambiguous enough.71 However, Frenschkowski ignores the quite ambiguous relation between Pomponius and the lanista. The lanista can be seen as a distorted Pomponius. While he is bigger and wears more beautiful clothes, he protects Perpetua as replacement of Pomponius. In this distortion, so fitting for a dream narrative, we learn something about the relationship between Perpetua and the deacon Pomponius, who in the dream – as is the task of a deacon – comes to assist Perpetua for the third time. The deacon is symbolic for the (divine?) protection she gets during her trial. At the same time the fact that the deacon says that he will stay, but disappears is an indication that in this dream narrative not only feelings of protection are at stake, but that it also reveals something about Perpetua’s fear for the near future and death.

6. Conclusion In the Passio Perpetua, we get a special window on the past largely through dream narratives. In these dream narratives, and in their framing, we can get some insights into the organisation of early Christianity in Africa. There are already traces of the threefold ministry: an episcopus, a presbyter, and diaconi, but we also hear about the special status of martyrs. Focusing our attention on deacons, we can see that there are some indications about their functioning. It seems that the bishop and the deacons are in charge of caring for the people. The deacons have to do the practical work like visiting the prison, caring for the inmates and being trusted with very confidential missions, while the bishop is quite clearly in charge of overseeing the whole flock, as is said by the angels (13.6). While the presbyter Aspasius is depicted as a doctor, he seems to be responsible for one of the other forms of teaching. It could be that presbyters were in those days, and in that part of the world, more involved in teaching and in advising the bishop. We hear about a tension between the episcopus and the presbyter but we do not learn anything about the nature of the disagreement. However, it is the bishop who is reprimanded by the angels, because he is the one who is held responsible for the unity of the community. dream life and only once in real life. This is not true. He acts twice in real life and only once in her dream life. 71  Frenschkowski, “Vision als Imagination,” 351–52.

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There is a relationship between the clergy and martyrs. It seems that the latter are to a certain extent more esteemed than the former. At the same time the clergy is held responsible for the wellbeing of their flock. Next to these ministries, the seniores in the dream could reflect a council of seniores in the church community, a council of elderly wise men. However, the indications in the ­passio itself that such a council exists are not very strong. In the Passio Perpetuae, we encounter deacons in “real life” and in “dream life.” We hear something about what deacons do: they are responsible for the care of the community (social work) and they have money to give “bribes.” We also get another insight from this text: the feeling a deacon can call forward in the dream life of a martyr. It seems that his relationship with Perpetua is such that in dream life the deacon Pomponius becomes a beacon for Perpetua during her trials in prison, even in the person of his alter ego, the lanista.

Deacons in the Texts Contemporary with the New Testament (Philo of Alexandria and Josephus) Anssi Voitila

Pierre Vidal-Naquet wrote an introductory article to Pierre Savinel’s French translation of the Jewish War of Josephus. This article, entitled “About the good use of treason” (“Du bon usage de la trahison”),1 gives an apt description of the many-sidedness of the role of Josephus as an agent between Romans and the Jews. He even called the first chapter “Intermediary.” This title and the depiction following it helps us to understand what Josephus meant when he pictured himself as διάκονος in this text (J.W. 3.354). Often, his self-designation may be compared with Paul’s similar definition in the New Testament (1 Cor  3:5; 2 Cor  3:6; 6:4; 11:15, Eph  3:7, and Col  1:23). Consequently, the study of the usage of the word διάκονος in the texts of Greek-speaking Jewish authors from the period, Philo (25 B.C.E.–50 C.E.) and Josephus (about 37–100 C.E.), deepens our understanding of the meaning of the word. Their semantic and philological analysis illustrates how the concept deacon was understood. Philo and Josephus provide reference material from the period in which the New Testament was written that has not necessarily been influenced by Christian usage, at least, in their original form. This material may therefore help us to understand the concept at the earliest stage of Christianity. In this article, I have searched only the word διάκονος “deacon,” and not the διακον- stem, presenting all the instances in the texts of these authors. Philo uses the word five times whereas Josephus mentions it fourteen times.2

1 Flavius Josèphe, La guerre des Juifs (Traduit par Pierre Savinel; Paris: Minuit, 1977), 9–115. 2  Texts have been searched using software by Accordance. Version 8.4. November 2009. Oak Tree Software, Inc. http://www.accordancebible.com.

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Based on the presentations of Collins and Hentschel, I am proposing in this article the following description, a sort of process diagram of how we may conceptualise what a deacon was.3 We may draw a graph.4        Intentionality    Control/Energy Flow         Result

R

A Primary S Agent

R B

S

Beneficiary

Secondary Agent

In the graph, the secondary agent (S) represents the deacon. S/he is an intermedi­ ary figure through, or by means of, whom something is transferred or delivered from one place to another, s/he has the control over the action (the bending arrow), and uses his/her energy (waving arrow) to achieve the result. The primary agent (A) represents the subject, whose intentionality (the straight arrow) is behind what the deacon is delivering/transferring, to achieve some aim/objective (R, Result), to a recipient and/or someone who benefits from the achievement (B, Beneficiary). In this article, I will scrutinise how well this conceptualisation fits the usage in these texts, and refine the description, if necessary.

1. Philo As already stated, Philo uses the word five times in his works. For Philo, deacons have a task to perform only for a limited time. This means one is a deacon only temporarily: a superior person, in a social hierarchy, has given a task to be performed by a person who is therefore a deacon. The person does not hold the position of deacon, and certainly not permanently, but his/her being a deacon 3  Generally speaking, διάκονοι (diakonoi) seem to have performed an intermediary role between the superior agent and the realisation of a duty/service bestowed (by this agent), typically, but not necessarily, on a third party, who may have been a beneficiary and/or recipient of the completion of this duty/service (John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources [New York: Oxford University Press, 1990], 335–37; Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien der Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007], 433). 4 This graph is adopted from the graph describing split agency in intermediary situations in Silvia Luraghi, “Agency and Causation,” in Encyclopedia of Ancient Greek Language and Linguistics (ed. Georgios K. Giannakis; Leiden: Brill, 2014), 65–72, 70.

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ends when the task is performed. His/her proper position is elsewhere. S/he earns his/her living somewhere else. But when carrying out this task, s/he is a deacon. Who this superior person is, is not always clearly indicated. As a first instance, I shall discuss the occurrence in the book, called The Contemplative Life (§  75), which gives an account of the sacred communal meal (τὸ ἱερὸν συμπόσιον) of the so-called Therapeutae monastic community (§§  64ff). This meal is celebrated every seventh week (δι’ ἑπτὰ ἑβδομάδων §  65), and is especially sacred when it takes place in the 50th week, because after 7x7= 49. At the communal meal, the service was carried out by the deacons. Their actual duties are not exemplified, they are simply called διακονικαὶ χρεῖαι “duties of deacons” (§  71) and ὑπηρεσία “service” (§  75). Instead, Philo states that they served willingly (§  71). Their duties at the table were not permanent but they were chosen to perform for just this occasion (§  72). According to Philo, deacons are young members of the community. He does not, however, mean their biological age but the years they have spent in the community. Thus, the senior members (elders) are more familiar with the teaching of the community than the younger members but not necessarily senior in age (§  67).5 As Philo puts it, these persons voluntarily offered themselves for the service, because it gave them an opportunity to learn from the more experienced members (§  71–72). The term διάκονος allows the interpretation that there may have been both male and female deacons. 6 Taylor argues, however, that these junior members of the community served every day, for example, preparing common meals, waiting at the table, and cleaning for the senior members.7 This conclusion is reached by “peek[ing] behind the text” but then it is noteworthy that on these occasions Philo does not call them διάκονοι, only here. Contempl.  75 Καὶ τὰ μὲν πρῶτα τοιαῦτα. μετὰ δὲ τὸ κατακλιθῆναι μὲν τοὺς συμπότας ἐν αἷς ἐδήλωσα τάξεσι, στῆναι δὲ τοὺς διακόνους ἐν κόσμῳ πρὸς ὑπηρεσίαν ἑτοίμους

These are the preliminaries; but after the guests have sat down at the table in the order which I have described, and the deacons have taken their stand in good order, ready for service […]. 8

8

The deacons at the sacred communal meal of Therapeutae resemble those encountered in the Greek inscriptions from the slightly earlier period. These διάκονοι 5  §  67: “for they do not look on those as elders who are advanced in years and very ancient, but in some cases they esteem those as very young men, if they have attached themselves to this sect only lately, but those whom they call elders are those who from their earliest infancy have grown up and arrived at maturity in the speculative portion of philosophy, which is the most beautiful and most divine part of it.” 6  So also Joan E. Taylor, Jewish Women Philosophers of First-Century Alexandria: Philo’s “Therapeutae” Reconsidered (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 100 n.  59. 7 Taylor, Jewish Women Philosophers, 99–103. 8  English translations are my own.

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were elected by lots9 or otherwise held the position temporarily in cultic meals. These functionaries hold a position so valued in the Greek world that there have been found, in several locations, lists of cult personnel, also cataloguing and naming διάκονοι,10 beginning from the third century B.C.E: Troizenis of Peloponnesos (IG IV 774 [+ μάγειρος]; 824 [+ κᾶρυξ]), from Thyrrhenia of Akarnia, in Central Greece, second century B.C.E. Further, we know from other sources that in Greek banquets there were also young men serving as waiters, one purpose of which may have been to learn manners and traditions of the community, by observing the seniors’ behaviour and by listening to their stories and myths.11 Similarly, at the Therapeutae’s meal, the deacons were supposed to hear more learned persons’ manners and speech and to become wiser. Their roles are referred to with familial terms – parents and children – by which Philo emphasises that there was no “subservience among the junior members”12 of the community. Later in this article, we will meet deacons serving at cultic meals in the texts of Josephus. It is also interesting that Philo expressly affirms that the deacons of the Therapeutae are not slaves (ἀνδράποδα, δοῦλοι, §  70–71). It may be concluded that the Greek reader/listener could have inferred this connotation from the usage of the word deacon, unless expressly denied. However, another important theme in the book takes precedence over this interpretation. Namely, it was important for Philo to show that Therapeutae did not keep slaves.13 Likewise, the fact that the deacons served as volunteers, willing to learn from the elder members of the community, points in the same direction. Consequently, the Jewish Therapeutae were a philosophical community, which stands out from the other Greek and Roman philosophical communities. 9  Following Collins (Diakonia, 166–67), as was done in the cultic association of Orge­ons in Athens, judged by the numerous inscriptions from the 4th to 2nd centuries B.C.E. See Paul François Foucart, Des associations religieuses chez les Grecs: Thiases, éranes, orgéons (Paris: Klincksieck, 1873), 20–32. 10 In Thyrrhenia of Akarnia, the lists appear more extensive, including πρύτανις (high priest), ἑστία (priestess), μάντις (diviner/prophet), αὐλητάς (flute-player), ἱεροφόρος (bearer of the holy vessels), μάγειρος (cook/butcher), διάκονος, ἀρχοινόχους (cup-bearer), ἱεροθύτας (sacrificing priest) (IG IX,1² 2:247, the 2nd c. B.C.E.; note: the text is written in Doric Greek). 11  Nancy Bookidis (“Ritual Dining at Corinth,” in Greek Sanctuaries: New Approaches [eds. Nanno Marinatos and Robin Hägg; London: Routledge], 45–61, 49) presents archaeological evidence from places where the meals occurred. In these buildings, there are spaces in the benches along the walls that do not allow reclining, they are too narrow; it is possible that these seats were intended for women, young men or for waiters/διάκονοι. That they were young boys (παῖς) is further supported by the vase paintings that represent standing smaller figures as waiters, as seen in fig. 9 in François Lissarrague, The Aesthetics of the Greek Banquet: Images of Wine and Ritual (trans. Andrew Szegdy-Maszak; Princeton: Princeton University, 1990), 21–22. See also my article “Diakonoi in the Greek-speaking World until 1st c. CE,” Diakonian tutkimus/Journal for the Study of Diaconia 3 (2015): 225. 12 Taylor, Jewish Women Philosophers, 246. 13 For this, see François Daumas, De Vita Contemplativa: Introduction et notes (Les œuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie 29; Paris, 1963), 131 n.  3.

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In his book On the Giants, Philo discusses the text of Gen 6:2 (12). The Hebrew text of Gen 6:2 relates information about the sons of God, whereas Philo’s Greek Genesis knew them as angels, ἄγγελοι. Gig.  12 τῶν οὖν ψυχῶν αἱ μὲν πρὸς σώματα κατέβησαν, αἱ δὲ οὐδενὶ τῶν γῆς μορίων ἠξίωσάν ποτε συνενεχθῆναι. ταύταις ἀφιερωθείσαις καὶ τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς θεραπείας περιεχομέναις ὑπηρέτισι καὶ διακόνοις ὁ δημιουργὸς εἴωθε χρῆσθαι πρὸς τὴν τῶν θνητῶν ἐπιστασίαν.

Some souls have descended into bodies, whereas others have not deemed worthy to be associated with any of the parts of earth; and the Creator has been accustomed to employ these servants and deacons who are consecrated and clung to the service of the Father, in the management of the mortals.

Philo tells that these angels are what other philosophers (not Jews) consider genii (daimones); they are souls flying in the air. He here follows Platonic views.14 He says that, according to Gen 6:2, there are two kinds of angel-souls: those who have descended into bodies and others who have decided not to mingle with any part of the earth. The Creator has given different tasks to these angels: they serve as ὑπηρέτιδες “servants” and as διάκονοι “deacons” in the management of people.15 This mirrors the dual nature of duties of the angels: the word ἐπιστασία refers to the authority over and taking care of humans.16 In what follows, Philo mentions only two activities these incorporeal angels perform, that is, they philosophise in the presence of God and act as ambassadors (πρεσβευτάς) between God and humans – the core word ἄγγελος means announcer/herald/ messenger – (Gig. 14–16). It is tempting to think that for Philo the word ὑπηρέτιδες represents the philosophising function and διάκονοι the messenger role of the angels, but it is not so specified in the text. Note that angels are acting as deacons only temporarily when they carry on their duty as messenger, like those encountered elsewhere in the Greek world as well as in the early church. Philo depicts the relationship between God and the angel deacon using the verb χράομαι, which means “to use for an end or purpose, to take advantage of, to make use of.”17 This demonstrates a power relation, God being the superior 14 

Peder Borgen, Philo of Alexandria: An Exegete for His Time (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 106. John N. Collins (Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry [New York: Oxford University Press, 2014], 69) seems only to emphasise the διάκονοι role of the angels and, leaving out their authority over human beings, depicts the role only as a “mediating agent” in Philo’s Gig. 12. 16  According to H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, H. S. Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 91996). Franco Montanari’s new The Brill Dictionary of Ancient Greek (Leiden: Brill, 2014) does not mention this attention/care meaning at all, only authority/dominion. 17  The idea of χρεία in relation to διακονία is also prominent in the stories of Acts  6:1–7; Luke 10:38–42, see Bart J. Koet, “Luke 10:38–42 and Acts  6:1–7: a Lukan Diptych on διακονία,” in this volume. 15 

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being. This is not uncommon in Greek literature,18 but ordering and sending are much more common ways of expressing the power relation between a deacon and his primary agent. The words ὑπηρέτιδες and διάκονοι appear to have the same meaning also in the next instance. The masculine ὑπηρέτης appears together with the word διάκονος in On the Life of J­oseph 241. In this text, the word διάκονος conveys a more figurative meaning than the instances mentioned earlier. Ios.  241 καὶ νομίζω τῶν συμβεβηκότων οὐχ ὑμᾶς ἀλλὰ θεὸν αἴτιον γεγενῆσθαι βουληθέντα με τῶν αὐτοῦ χαρίτων καὶ δωρεῶν, ἃς ἐν τοῖς ἀναγκαιοτάτοις καιροῖς ἠξίωσε τῷ γένει τῶν ἀνθρώπων παρασχεῖν, ὑπηρέτην γενέσθαι καὶ διάκονον.

And I believe that it was not you, but God, who was the cause of the events which took place. He wanted me to be the servant and deacon of his graces and gifts which he thought fit to grant to humanity in the time of their grea­ test need.

In this passage, Joseph tries to reconcile himself with his brothers who sold him into Egypt, after they have identified him. Hence, he tries to convince his brothers that they have not done what they did by themselves, but this was God’s doing so that Joseph may act as a deacon of God’s plan; that means he was the deacon/servant of God’s favours [grace] and gifts. God had anticipated the coming famine, and therefore sent Joseph into Egypt to prepare food for the family. Joseph thus had a duty to perform from God, even though he was not aware of it until afterwards. This same image is used by Josephus in his self-portrait when he describes his own role as mediator between the Jewish people, the Romans and God. We will return to this later below. Philo also uses the term in the metaphorical sense. On two occasions, ears appear as the deacons carrying a message. In both of them, the ear-deacons are intermediaries (secondary agents, marked with S in the graph) in the service of ignoble, ungodly purposes. In On the Posterity of Cain and His Exile 165, ears act as an intermediary, through whom, according to Philo, those (agent, letter A in the graph) who think that life is a play persuade the young people (beneficiary/recipient, B) to believe in the Egyptian gods (target/patient, R). Here, it is important to Philo that the ears (not the eyes) have recognised and acknowledge the golden calf – made by Aaron – as a god in Exod 32. The ears as the responsible organ is due to his use of a version, similar to the Septuagint, where the words suggest the image of the idol being forged, a process which, of course, made a lot of noise. Further, Philo in general highlights the importance of vision over hearing (LXX Exod 20:18; Philo, Conf. 194), the vision comes through as the visible voice (φωνὴ ὁρατή) connected with Philo’s interpretation of the name 18 Plato,

Leg. 763a; Demosthenes, Timocr. 197; Prov (LXX) 10:4.

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Israel as “seeing people” which makes it necessary that hearing is responsible for this failure.19 Post.  165 ἁπαλαῖς γὰρ ἔτι ταῖς τῶν νέων ψυχαῖς οἱ τραγῳδίαν τὸν βίον τύφων ἐρώντων νομίζοντες κεκιβδηλευμένους χαρακτῆρας ἐναπομάττονται, διακόνοις ἀκοαῖς χρώμενοι, ὧν μυθικὸν λῆρον καταχέαντες καὶ μέχρι διανοίας αὐτῶν ἐντήξαντες θεοπλαστεῖν τοὺς τὰ φρονήματα ἄνδρας μὲν μηδέποτε γινομένους ἀεὶ δὲ θηλυδρίας ὄντας ἠνάγκασαν.

For those who consider life only a show full of acts of arrogance and stories of love, impressing false ideas on the ­tender minds of the young, and using their ears as deacons, into which they pour fabulous trifles. They, sinking the idea deep into their minds, compel these persons who were never even men of their minds but always effeminate creatures to make an image of god.

Mos.  2.199 καλὸν ἐκνίψασθαι τὴν ἀθλίαν ψυχὴν ἐπηρεασθεῖσαν μὲν ὑπὸ φωνῆς, διακόνοις δὲ τοῖς ὠσὶ χρησαμένην, αἰσθήσει τυφλῇ.

It would be well that this unhappy soul purifies itself, because it has been insulted by the voice which has served the ears, blind sense, as deacons.

Similarly, hearing appears as an unfaithful and blind sense in About Moses 2:199. The listener uses (χράομαι) his ears as mediator who, by hearing the curse, causes the listener to feel insulted. The ears are blind because their make you blind spiritually – you become an idolater.20 Due to the nature of metaphor, the abstract idea (the “target domain”) that the metaphor is supposed to describe does not fully correspond to its counterpart in the concrete world (the “source domain”) through which the comprehension of the abstract idea takes place.21 In this case, the ears-deacon has not received from those who think that life is a play a clear command to perform the task to persuade the young minds, or, in the latter example, the listener has not commanded the ears to hear the curse, but the addressees of the text will understand what is meant. The fact that Philo uses the term deacon in the metaphorical sense does not alter the fact that our word in the concrete world signifies an agent who by the mandate of a superior being carries a task to any third party that benefits from the execution of the task. Rather, the metaphorical meaning substantially corresponds to the concrete one in terms of our conclusions, and as such, confirms them. Further, deacons are deacons just for the time they are performing the task. 19 Géraldine Hertz, “L’ouïe, ‘ce sens aveugle’: le statut de l’ouïe dans la vie pratique et religieuse chez Philon d’Alexandrie,” PALLAS 98 (2015): 155–81, 174–76. 20  Hertz, “L’ouïe,” 177 and n.  120. 21  For this, see, George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By, with a new afterword (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), 52–55.

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2. Josephus Josephus employs the word διάκονος more often than Philo; fourteen instances appear. It is used in the same senses as in Philo, but there are differences, too. Josephus utilises the word to indicate διάκονοι who perform this function for longer periods, in the same way as the word denoting a servant, such as θεράπων, παῖς or ὑπηρέτης, which is used almost as a synonym for διάκονος. This interpretation arises, at least partly, from the fact that the text itself does not report the exact duration of the performance or give the date for the assignment. Interestingly, Josephus, on two occasions, presents himself as a deacon (J.W. 3.354 and 4.626). It does not come as a surprise that, in both occasions, he is acting on behalf of God, playing the role of an intermediary. Both cases appear in The Jewish War. Josephus’ changing position, from being among the leaders of the so-called first Jewish revolt (66–70 C.E.) to joining to the Roman side and participating in the Roman conquest of Jerusalem was already, in his own time, difficult to see as anything other than a betrayal of his own people.22 J.W. 3.354 “κἀπειδὴ τὸ Ἰουδαίων,” ἔφη, “φῦλον ὀκλάσαι δοκεῖ σοι τῷ κτίσαντι· μετέβη δὲ πρὸς Ῥωμαίους ἡ τύχη πᾶσα, καὶ τὴν ἐμὴν ψυχὴν ἐπελέξω τὰ μέλλοντα εἰπεῖν. δίδωμι μὲν Ῥωμαίοις τὰς χεῖρας ἑκὼν καὶ ζῶ· μαρτύρομαι δὲ ὡς οὐ προδότης, ἀλλὰ σὸς εἶμι διάκονος.”

He said, “Since you have thought fit to break the Jewish nation, whom you have created, and since all good fortune is gone over to the Romans, and since you have decided that my soul should announce what is to come, I willingly give myself up to the Romans, and consent to live. And I take you as a witness that I do not go there as a traitor, but as your deacon.”

In J.W. 3.354, Josephus shows himself as praying. He describes his own situa­tion and the fate of the Jews as divine providence, portraying himself as his namesake, the patriarch Joseph.23 (He is also an interpreter of dreams sent by God 24 – ἦν δὲ καὶ περὶ κρίσεις ὀνείρων ἱκανὸς συμβαλεῖν τὰ ἀμφιβόλως ὑπὸ τοῦ θείου λεγόμενα, “he was skilled as an interpreter of dreams, ambiguous utter22  James S. MacLaren, “Delving into the Darkside: Josephus’ Foresight as Hindsight,” in Making History: Josephus and Historical Method (ed. Zuleika Rodgers; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 49–67, 62; Also, Francoise Mirguet (“Flavius Josèphe construit son image,” Écritures et réécritures [eds. Claire Clivaz et al.; BEThL 248; Leuven: Peeters 2012], 35–48, 45–48) refers to the work of M. Stanislawski, Autobiographical Jews: Essays in Jewish Self-Fashioning (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2004), 31 n.  9. 23  It is interesting, though, that Josephus does not call the patriarch Joseph a deacon anywhere, as Philo does in the text discussed above. 24  This relation is suggested also by Henry St. John Thackeray in his translation of Jewish War (Loeb Classical Library. Vol. 487 ad loc.; so also, Per Bilde, Flavius Josephus between Jerusalem and Rome [JSPSup 2. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1988], 189–90), although it is true, as

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ances of the Deity” – as he says just before [3.351–353]). He is sent by God as a deacon on a mission, whose fate is to act as a messenger of the Jews and God at the court of the Roman emperor in Rome.25 There he defends his people who have revolted, and tries to convince the Romans that it is not the Jews who are to blame, but rather, the Roman administration in Judea and the bad leaders of the Jewish people. In another paragraph (4.626), Josephus has the emperor Vespasian himself declare that Josephus is the deacon of God’s voice. Thus, he “was officially recognized” as a prophet (4.629).26 It is also significant that the messenger role (ἄγγελος, πρεσβευτής) is connected to the word deacon here as was also the case in Philo, Gig. 14–16.27 So as Gnuse argues, 28 Josephus presents himself as a prophet, a messenger (ἄγγελος) sent by God (3.400) who proclaims what God has told him. He is clearly a new Joseph, an interpreter of dreams and a prisoner liberated by a righteous ruler. And in this role he was a deacon of God. The term deacon appears referring to the temporary nature of the task to carry messages in Jewish Antiquities 7.224.29 This story is related in 2 Sam 17:15–29: at the time of Absalom’s rebellion the “high priests” on King David’s side told their sons to provide the necessary information concerning Absalom’s actions to the king. When they successfully completed the mission, Josephus calls the sons “pious and reliable deacons.” In Ant. 8.354, the prophet Elisha is called a student (μαθητὴς) and a deacon of the prophet Elijah. Later he is also referred to as a deacon and θεράπων-servant in the next book from 9.54–55.30 Ant. 8.354 καὶ ἦν Ἠλίου τὸν ἅπαντα and as long as Elijah lived, he was his χρόνον τοῦ ζῆν καὶ μαθητὴς καὶ διάκονος. disciple and deacon. Collins elaborates (Collins, Diakonia, 114), that the patriarch Joseph is not actually a spokesman of God. 25  In fact, Josephus, in his book Life of Josephus, presents the divine providence as acting throughout his life. He presents himself as the only person capable of communicating the events of the Jewish war because he has been educated in Jewish values and he had lived through the events he describes as well as knowing the Roman way of presenting these matters to his audience. Mirguet, “Flavius Josèphe construit son image,” 43–44. 26 Bilde, Flavius Josephus, 54. 27  Collins (Diakonia, 111–15) highlights the fact that even if this role of the dream interpreter is true, Josephus presents himself most of all as “the spokesman of the Jewish deity.” Collins, Diakonia, 114. 28  Robert Karl Gnuse, Dreams and Dream Reports in the Writings of Josephus: A Traditio-­ Historical Analysis (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 140. 29  Collins (Diakonia, 128) describes the deacons, in Ant. 7.201 and 224, as “recounting messages and missions on behalf of persons in high standing.” Thus, these deacons act as messengers of highly placed people in society. The word διάκονος, however, does not function as a noun in Ant. 7.201 but as an adjectival attribute (πιστοὺς […] διακόνους παῖδας). Therefore, the duty is not that of the deacon but at least partly that of a servant/errand boy (παῖς). 30  Collins argues that in these three cases we are dealing with the prophet’s personal attendant. (Diakonia, 299–300 n.  1).

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Ant. 9.54–55 ἅμα δὲ ἕῳ τοῦτο μαθὼν, ὁ τοῦ προφήτου διάκονος καὶ ὅτι ζητοῦσιν οἱ πολέμιοι λαβεῖν Ἐλισσαῖον ἐδήλωσεν αὐτῷ μετὰ βοῆς καὶ ταραχῆς δραμὼν πρὸς αὐτόν. ὁ δὲ τὸν θεράποντα μὴ δεδιέναι παρεθάρρυνε καὶ τὸν θεόν, ᾧ συμμάχῳ καταφρονῶν ἀδεὴς ἦν, παρεκάλει τῷ διακόνῳ πρὸς τὸ λαβεῖν αὐτὸν εὔελπι θάρσος ἐμφανίσαι τὴν αὑτοῦ δύναμιν καὶ παρουσίαν, ὡς δυνατόν.

At the break of dawn, the prophet’s deacon learned of this, and that his ­enemies were seeking to take Elisha, he came running to him, and crying aloud, told him of it; but he encouraged his servant, not to be afraid and told to beseech God with whom as ally he could scorn the enemy without fear, and to make manifest to his deacon his power and presence, so far as was possible, in order that he might take hope and courage.

Now, one could well argue that deacon here means a well-established post as a servant, but when one looks at the context more closely one notices that the post of the student and that of the deacon are terminable, that is, at Elijah’s lifetime. Probably the writer did not necessarily think in such a complex way, rather Elisha probably defined himself, in Josephus’ terms, still after Elijah’s death, as his disciple and deacon: Elisha had a call for his lifetime. In this way, the deaconship of Elisha does not appear only as a servant/attendant position, as Collins has it, but Elisha-deacon is presented as a pupil of his master as well, an intermediary of Elijah’s message after Elijah has been taken away. The genitive “of Elijah” (student and deacon) surely defines the owner, the one who is served, and from whom one learns; in addition, the genitive expresses the source of learning, from whom the teaching comes and who serves as the primary agent. In paragraph Ant. 9.54–55, the deacon’s assignment seems permanent, a position of servant. It is juxtaposed with the word θεράπων and the context does not mention any assignment or ordering; the word deacon functions clearly as an epithet. Similarly, the following cases appear to speak about deacons as having a more permanent position of a servant. It is interesting, though, that these deacons are related to table service, to a kind of waiter. Ant. 6.52 tells about the prophet Samuel who tells certain διάκονοι to serve Saul a king’s portion of the meal. Ant. 6.52 ὁ δὲ προφήτης ἀγαγὼν αὐτὸν ἐπὶ τὴν ἑστίαν κατακλίνει καὶ τὸν ἀκόλουθον ἐπάνω τῶν κεκλημένων· οὗτοι δ᾿ ἦσαν ἑβδομήκοντα τὸν ἀριθμόν·προστάσσει δὲ τοῖς διακόνοις παραθεῖναι τῷ Σαούλῳ μερίδα βασιλικήν.

However, the prophet led him into the banquet, and made him sit down, him and those who followed him, above the invited guests, who were seventy in number and ordered the deacons to set the royal portion before Saul.

The duties of the deacons in the text may of course be understood in the same way as those in the above mentioned sacred meal of the Therapeutae or in the

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Greek cultic meals. That is, deacons serve as waiters because someone has given this task to them; in the Greek text, the order is given to the cook, this arrangement may be in accordance with Greek custom. The meal is called ἑστίασις, which means a public or tribal meal,31 often offered by one citizen to others. But the text does not confirm this. Maybe it was considered self-evident? Similarly, at the meal of the Persian king, the king’s deacons again serve his guests at the table (Ant. 11.188). This banquet of the Persian king cannot be a cult meal although the expression to give the commission is the same: the primary agent tells the deacons to serve (προσέταττεν τοῖς διακόνοις). Still more difficult, in this respect, is the instance of Queen Esther’s deacon (Ant. 11.228).32 Ant. 11.228 ἡ δὲ Ἐσθήρα ἐπέστειλεν μὲν τῷ Μαρδοχαίῳ τὸν αὐτὸν πέμψασα διάκονον εἰς Σοῦσα πορευθέντι τοὺς ἐκεῖ Ἰουδαίους εἰς ἐκκλησίαν συναγαγεῖν καὶ νηστεῦσαι πάντων ἀποσχομένους ὑπὲρ αὐτῆς ἐπὶ τρεῖς ἡμέρας τὸ δ᾿ αὐτὸ ποιήσασα μετὰ τῶν θεραπαινίδων

But Esther sent the same deacon back to Mordecai ordering him to go to Susa, and to gather the Jews there together in an assembly and ask them to fast and abstain from all food for three days, on her behalf, and Esther promis­ ed to do the same with her servant-­ maidens.

Namely, the deacon is defined as the same deacon (ὁ αὐτὸς διάκονος) and he is carrying messages or written documents between the queen and Mordecai. In the previous context, the only person carrying messages is the eunuch Hatach. It is logical, though not entirely certain, that it is about the same eunuch, who is now characterised as a deacon. He has a message to carry in the situation described, but he is a eunuch. In the metaphorical sense, deacon refers to a person who has put forward a process or chain of actions by doing something. He or she has served as a channel for these actions to take place. In Ant. 1.298, Rachel has served as a deacon in a chain of actions when she led Jacob to Laban’s, her father’s house, so that 31  See Jean Rudhardt, Notions fondamentales de la pensée religieuse et actes constitutifs du culte dans la Grèce Classique (Deuxième édition; Paris: Picard, 1992), 159; Robert Parker, Athenian Religion: A History (Oxford: Clarendon, 1996), 103. Together with the deacons mentioned in Ant. 11.188 (“waiters at royal banquet”) these deacons are characterised as deacons “in high places” by Collins (Diakonia, 128–29, 300 n.  1). It must be noted, however, that the banquet Saul attends in Ant. 6.52 is not really a royal banquet and that the deacons were not there originally for Saul, since Saul enters the meal extempore. Further, Josephus calls the occassion ἑστίασις, a religious meal. Therefore, the deacons, more likely, are to be taken as waiters in a cultic service. 32  For the use of the term in Esther, see Bart J. Koet, “Diakonie ist nicht nur Armenfürsorge. Neuere exegetische Erkenntnisse zum Verständnis von Diakonie,” in Lernen wäre eine schöne Alternative: Religionsunterricht in theologischer und erziehungswissenschaftlicher Ver­antwortung (eds. Christoph Gramzow, Heide Liebold and Martin Sander-Gaiser; FS Helmut Hanisch: Leipzig: Evangelische Verlag-Anstalt, 2008), 303–18.

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Jacob became attracted to her and they married, had children, and so on. In Ant. 11.255, Haman gave the king advice which the king considered very useful and this led the king to give honours to Mordecai. Thus, Haman is the deacon of this matter. In Ant. 12.187, Josephus takes his readers to Ptolemaic Egypt, where Joseph son of Tobias was a notable Jewish person. In this text, he asks his brother to hide his transgression of the law, and to assist him in his satisfying his desires, that is to be a good deacon in this matter. This instance differs from the others in that the process includes a clear primary agent. Ant.  12.187 καὶ δειπνῶν παρὰ τῷ βασιλεῖ, ὀρχηστρίδος εἰσελθούσης εἰς τὸ συμπόσιον εὐπρεποῦς ἐρασθεὶς τῷ ἀδελφῷ τοῦτο μηνύει, παρακαλῶν αὐτόν, ἐπεὶ καὶ νόμῳ κεκώλυται παρὰ Ἰουδαίοις ἀλλοφύλῳ πλησιάζειν γυναικί, συγκρύψαντα τὸ ἁμάρτημα καὶ διάκονον ἀγαθὸν γενόμενον παρασχεῖν αὐτῷ ὡστ᾿ ἐκπλῆσαι τὴν ἐπιθυμίαν.

When Joseph was dining with the king, a very beautiful dancing-girl came into the banquet, having fallen in love with her, he revealed this to his brother and begged him, since a Jew was forbidden by their law from having an intercourse with a foreign woman, to help him in concealing the transgression and to become his good deacon by allowing him to satisfy his desire.

Moreover, in J.W. 4.388, the Zealots, at the end of the Jewish War, are presented as the deacons of a prophecy (of God?) when helping the war to come to its end – a Roman victory – which fulfils the prediction made by Josephus.

3. Conclusion In the texts studied here, the term διάκονος indicates a person, in reality or spoken of figuratively, who acts as an intermediary, that is, a secondary agent, between the primary agent and a beneficiary, a third person or group of persons, yet again actually or figuratively. The power relationship between the deacon and the primary agent is usually presented as a deacon being sent, invited, used, or ordered to perform the task desired. This performing usually takes place only temporarily, for a limited time. In Josephus, we encounter instances, open to interpretation, where the word seems to imply a more permanent position, sometimes being a synonym to other words meaning “servant.” Deacon embodies for the language user and for his audience a positive term; it does not seem be associated with a low position or slavery – meanings that would bring negative connotations to the mind of the writer and his audience. Thus, it might evoke, in the minds of language users, a servant of higher standard. It is used of the angels, the prophets, the king’s servants, of the reputable young men serving at the cultic meals etc. If it relates to something negative, it

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is not an inherent part of the semantic content of the deacon-term, rather it is something associated with the first agent (his motives, purposes, actions) and with the results of the task the deacon has performed. Finally, it may be concluded that the conceptualisation of the split agency presented in the introduction of this article (and pictured graphically) functions very well for the description of deacons’ agency in the texts of Philo and Josephus. It must, however, be noted that the identity of the primary agent is not always brought out clearly, particularly in the figurative instances.

Appendices

Abbreviations Aug Augustinianum AusBr Australian Biblical Review BBB Bonner biblische Beiträge BEThL Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensum BiTeu Bibliotheca Teubneriana BTB Biblical Theology Bulletin CIL Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum CRINT Compendia Rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum CSEL Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum CUFr Collection des universités de France EDCS Epigraphik Datenbank Clauss Slaby http://db.edcs.eu/epigr/epi. php?s_sprache=en EPRO Études préliminaires aux religions orientales dans l’Empire Romain FS Festschrift HAW Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft ICC International Critical Commentary IG Inscriptiones Graecae JBL Journal of Biblical Literature JSNT Journal for the Study of the New Testament JSNT SS Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series JSPSup Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Supplement Series JTS Journal of Theological Studies KuD Kerygma und Dogma NCB New Century Bible NICNT New International Commentary on the New Testament ÖTK Ökumenischer Taschenbuchkommentar zum Neuen Testament RGRW Religions in the Graeco-Roman World SC Sources Chrétiennes SP Sacra Pagina TANZ Texte und Arbeiten zum neutestamentlichen Zeitalter TDNT Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. Trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964 ThQ Theologische Quartalschrift TRE Theologische Realenzyklopädie TWNT Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament. Edited by G. Kittel and G. Friedrich, Stuttgart, 1932–1979 VC Vigiliae Christianae WBC Word Biblical Commentary WMANT Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament

Authors Joke H.A. Brinkhof (*1957) studied theology in Amsterdam (Catholic University of Theology, Amsterdam). She had various positions in the dioceses of Rotterdam and Utrecht, mainly in pastoral management. After that she taught New Testament successively at Fontys University of Applied Sciences and at Tilburg University (Catholic School of Theology). During her career she gave courses to groups of volunteers in the church and guided them in their work. She obtained her doctorate in 2015 with a dissertation on Acts  8:5–24, about the mission of Philip and the confrontation of both Philip and Peter with Simon the magician and the world of the Gentiles. This encounter with Simon has consequences for Peter’s dedication to the peoples. John N. Collins (*1931) lives in Seaford, Melbourne (Australia). Before retirement, he taught history and theology of ministry at Yarra Theological Union in Melbourne and has been a guest speaker at theological faculties in Germany, Scandinavia, Britain, and the Netherlands. He has a long-standing interest in Christian ministry: its biblical, patristic, and theological roots, 20th and 21st century transformations, its ecumenical dimensions, and contemporary possibilities for renewed forms of ministry. These interests arose from his doctoral thesis in New Testament Studies at University of London King’s College. His publications include Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources [1990; re-­ issued 2009], which is based on his doctoral dissertation; Are All Christians Ministers? [1992]; Deacons and the Church: Making connections between old and new [2002]; and Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry [2014]. John Granger Cook (*1955) received his PhD from Emory University in the area of New Testament Studies with doctoral minors in Hebrew Bible and ancient philosophy. After serving six years in a Presbyterian parish outside of Asheville, North Carolina he did a post-doctoral project in earliest Christianity with Vernon K. Robbins at Emory University. He then took a position at LaGrange College in LaGrange, Ga., USA where he is a full professor in the religion and philosophy program. His published works include: A Text Linguistic Approach to the Gospel of Mark (Scholars Press, Society of Biblical Literature), The Interpretation of the New Testament in Greco-Roman Paganism (Mohr Siebeck), The Interpretation of the Old Testament in Greco-Roman Paganism (Mohr ­Siebeck), Roman Attitudes toward the Christians: From Claudius to Hadrian

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(Mohr Siebeck), and Crucifixion in the Mediterranean World (Mohr Siebeck). Currently he is working on a monograph to be entitled: Empty Tomb, Resurrection, and Apotheosis (Mohr Siebeck). Paul Foster (*1966) was awarded the D.Phil. in 2003 from the University of Oxford, and is currently Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity at the University of Edinburgh. His recent publications include Colossians – Black’s New Testament Commentaries (Bloomsbury, 2016) and The Gospel of Peter: Introduction, Critical Edition and Commentary (Brill, 2010). Mark Grundeken (*1984; Dr. theol. 2013, KU Leuven), studied Theology and Religious Studies in Leiden, Oxford (with a Huygens Scholarship) and Leuven (2002–2008) and worked as research assistant of Professor Joseph Verheyden at the KU Leuven (2008–2013) and of Professor Cilliers Breytenbach at the Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin (2013–2014). Since 2014, he has been Akademischer Rat at the Albert-Ludwigs-Universität Freiburg and assistant of Professor ­Ferdinand Prostmeier. He has published the monograph Community Building in the Shepherd of Hermas: A Critical Study of Some Key Aspects (SVigChr 131; Leiden: Brill, 2015), the volume Early Christian Communities between Ideal and Reality (ed. with Joseph Verheyden; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), and several articles on early Christianity. He is currently writing a monograph on the Letter to the Ephesians (his Habilitationsschrift). Anni Hentschel (*1972) is docent of New Testament at the Julius-Maximilians-­ Universität Würzburg. She received her PhD in New Testament Studies at the Friedrich-Alexander-Universität Nürnberg-Erlangen in 2005. She has publish­ ed a lot of articles and two monographs on diakonia, deacons and ministry. Currently she is conducting research on the foot-washing scene in the gospel of John. Clayton N. Jefford (*1955) is Professor of Scripture at the Saint Meinrad Seminary and School of Theology in St. Meinrad, Ind., where he has served on faculty since 1989. He is most widely known for his publications on the Apostolic Fathers, with his most recent volumes including The Epistle to Diognetus (with the Fragment of Quadratus) (Oxford 2013) and Didache: The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (Polebridge 2013), as well as his edited volumes (with Jonathan A. Draper), The Didache: A Missing Piece of the Puzzle in Early Christianity (SBL 2015) and (with D. Jeffrey Bingham), Intertextuality in the Second Century (Brill 2016). At present he is writing a commentary on the Didache for the Yale Anchor Bible series. Bart J. Koet (*1955) is Professor of New Testament Studies and Early Christian Literature at the Tilburg School of Catholic Theology (the Netherlands). His main field of research is the way interpretation of biblical traditions is used,

Authors

293

particularly in the New Testament (especially Luke-Acts and Paul), Rabbinic scriptures and early Christian literature. He pays special attention in his research to the connection between interpretation of Scripture and the phenomenon of dreams. Over the past few years he has also written extensively about leadership in the early church. The last book he edited was Multiple Teachers in Biblical Texts, Leuven, CBET 88, Peeters, 2017 (together with his colleague Archibald L. H. M. van Wieringen). A book about Augustine and his views on deacons will be published in 2019 by Brill. Anni Maria Laato (*1963) is adjunct professor in systematic theology at Åbo Akademi University and docent in patristic theology in Helsinki University. She studied classical philology at the University of Turku, and theology at Åbo Akademi University, where she received her PhD in 1998. She has published on patristic theology, ecumenics, and relations between Christians and Jews. She is currently the chair of Societas Patristica Fennica. Margaret Mowczko (*1961) is an independent scholar from Australia with a specialisation in early Christian and Jewish studies. She received the Paul Dovico Prize from Macquarie University for her thesis on Phoebe and the role of deacons in the early church. She has published scholarly and popular works related to the biblical theology of Christian egalitarianism and women in the church. She blogs at MargMowczko.com. Edwina Murphy (*1970) is Lecturer in Church History at Morling College (Australian College of Theology and University of Divinity) in Sydney, Australia. She previously served as a Baptist pastor. Her research interests revolve around Cyprian and the early Christian interpretation of Scripture. Edwina’s publications include The Bishop and the Apostle: Cyprian’s Pastoral Exegesis of Paul (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2018) and scholarly articles on aspects of Cyprian’s use of Scripture. She has also published on the relevance of the early church for Christian thought and practice today. Esko Ryökäs (*1953) is adjunct professor in systematic theology at University of Eastern Finland in Joensuu, where he is also docent of the same topic. At Åbo Akademi University he is docent in practical theology. He has studied theology at Åbo Akademi University, where he received his PhD in 1992. He also has a licentiate degree in Sociology from University of Eastern Finland. He has published many monographs and articles about diaconia (Christian social practice), theoretically and practically. His most recent publications are around how the Diaconia of modern churches is (or is not) based on the traditions and sources of the early church. He is currently the chair of the Finnish Association for Research on Diaconia.

294

Authors

Serafim Seppälä (*1970) is professor of Systematic Theology and patristics at the University of Eastern Finland. He received his PhD in Oriental Studies from the University of Helsinki (Faculty of Arts, 2002). He has published exhaustively on Syriac spirituality, Mariology, Byzantine aesthetics, Byzantine and Rabbinic angelology, the idea of Jerusalem in Judaism, Christianity and Islam, and the cultural heritage of the Armenian genocide. Currently he is working with Christian and Islamic polemics from the seventh to tenth centuries. Peter-Ben Smit (*1979) is professor of contextual biblical interpretation in the Dom Hélder Câmara chair at Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam and professor by special appointment of Ancient Catholic Church Structures and the History and Doctrine of the Old Catholic Churches at Utrecht University. He is also a research affiliate at the University of Pretoria (Faculty of Theology). He receiv­ ed his PhD in New Testament from the University of Bern (2005), the degree of Habilitation in Church History and the History of Old Catholicism from the same institution in 2009 and his ThD in Anglican Studies from General Theological Seminary (New York, 2011). Lauri Thurén (*1961) is professor of biblical studies at the University of Eastern Finland since 2002. He is also docent of New Testament exegesis at the Åbo Akademi University, from which he received his PhD in New Testament 1990. He has studied classical philology at the University of Turku, Finland; rhetoric and biblical exegesis at the Uppsala University, Sweden, and Graduate Theological Union, Berkeley. He has published several monographs and articles on the Catholic and Pauline epistles, using a modern rhetorical perspective. His latest monograph is Parables Unplugged–Reading the Lukan Parables in Their Rhetorical Context (Fortress, 2014). Anssi Voitila (*1958) received his Doctor of Theology from University of Helsinki (2001) and has been adjunct professor (Docent/Privatdozent) at the University of Eastern Finland since 2007. He was Senior Lecturer in Biblical languages and Studies at the University of Eastern Finland in 2003. He is a parti­ cipant in the project “Changes in Sacred Texts and Traditions” (CSTT) (Center of Excellence in Research, Academy of Finland) at the University of Helsinki. His research interests span the language of the Septuagint, semantic change, and the book of Ben Sira. His publications include Présent et imparfait de l’indicatif dans le Pentateuque grec : une étude sur la syntaxe de traduction (2001). Munib Younan (*1950) is the former President (2010–2017) of the Lutheran World Federation (LWF). He is past president (2004–2010) of the Fellowship of the Middle East Evangelical Churches (FMEEC) and provides leadership for the ecumenical Patriarchs and Heads of Local Christian Churches in Jerusalem, as well as for the Council of Religious Institutions in the Holy Land (CRIHL), comprised of leaders of Jerusalem’s Jewish, Muslim, and Christian communi-

Authors

295

ties. His term as acting Bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Jordan and the Holy Land (ELCJHL) was from December 1998–January 2018. In autumn 2017, he received the Niwano Peace Price (Tokyo, Japan). He also has an honorary doctorate from Wartburg College in Iowa, USA (2001) and from University of Münster, Germany (2014).

Acknowledgements The following articles have already been published and are reprinted here with the kind permission of the original rights holders: Anni Hentschel, “Paul’s Apostleship and the Concept of διακονία in 2 Corin­ thians,” in Diakonia, Diaconiae Diaconato. Semantica e storia nei Padri della Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9 maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Studia Ephemeridis Augustinianum 117; Roma: Augustinianum, 2010), 15–28. Here reprinted with permission of the president of the Augustinianum. Bart J. Koet, “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts  6 ,1–7: a Lucan Diptych on Diakonia,” in Studies on the Greek Bible (eds. Jeremy Corley and Vincent Skemp; FS Francis T. Gignac: CBQ Monograph Series 44; Washington, D.C.: Catholic Biblical ­Association of America, 2008), 163–85. Here reprinted with permission of the editor of the CBQ monograph series. Bart J. Koet, “Like a Royal Wedding. On the Significance of diakonos in John 2,1–11,” in Diakonia, Diaconiae Diaconato. Semantica e storia nei Padri della Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9 maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Studia Ephemeridis Augustinianum 117; Roma: Augustinianum, 2010), 39–52. Here reprinted with permission of the president of the Augustinianum. Bart J. Koet, “Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Understanding the Two-fold Ministry of ἐπισκόποι and διάκονοι according to 1 Clement (1 Clem.  42:5),” in The Scriptures of Israel in Jewish and Christian Tradition (eds. Bart J. Koet, Steve Moyise and Jos Verheyden; FS Maarten J. J. Menken. SupplNT 148: Leiden: Brill, 2013), 345–62. Here reprinted with permission of Brill. Bart J. Koet, “The Bishop and His Deacons. Ignatius of Antioch’s View on Ministry: Two-fold or Three-fold,” in Sanctifying Texts, Transforming Rituals (eds. Paul van Geest, Marcel Poorthuis and Els Rose; FS Gerard Rouwhorst: Leiden: Brill, 2017), 171–90. Here reprinted with permission of Brill.

Index of Ancient Sources (made by Alette Warringa, MA)

1. Hebrew Bible and Septuagint Genesis 2:2 81n7 6:2 277 7:2–3 81n7 22:11 55n53 41:29–43 49 41:53 81n7 49:28 80n4 Exodus 2:16 81n7 3:4 55 8:13–16 49 12:15 81n7 16:5 49n18 18 49n18 20:18 (LXX) 278 22:22 58 32 278 34:32–35 109 Leviticus 14 81n7 19:18 53 25 81n7 Numbers 4:16 184 11:1 49n18, 56 11:1–25 49 11:24–30 49n18 12:1–8 258 12:3 (LXX) 152n20 12:6 256n6, 258n12 12:6–8 258

15:2 184n32 17 183 17:16–17 80n4 27:15–23 49 33:9 80n4 Deuteronomy 1 49n18 1:9–18 49 1:23 80n4 4:1 53n39 5:1 60 5:1–3 53n39 6:5 53, 62 6:24–25 53n39 8:1 53n39 10:18 58 11:8 53n39 11:13 53n38, 60, 60n76 11:22 53n38 12:1 53n39 14:29 58 19:9 53n38 30:16 53n38 31:12–13 53n39 Joshua 3:12 80n4 4:1–8 80n4 4:2 80n4 24 84 Judges 19:29 80n4

300

Index of Ancient Sources

2 Samuel 17:15–29 281 I Kings 17:1 58 17:8–24 58 4:29 81n9 5:4 (LXX) 126n46 2 Chronicles 29:20 184 1 Esdras 1:15 (LXX) 183n28 2:12 93n10 6:18 93n10 Nehemiah 9:32 184 Tobit 2:2 58 Esther (LXX) 41, 72–74, 77, 184, 283 1 72, 73 1:1–8 72 1:4 73 1:5 72 1:8 73 1:10 41, 73n40 1:16 184 2:2 41, 74 6:1 41 6:3 41 6:5 41, 74 7:8 72 1 Maccabees 1:51 184 11:58 41 2 Maccabees 3:4 93n10 14–15 258n13 Job 13, 180 4:16–5:5 180

Psalms 69:26 80 109 [108 in LXX] 152n19 109:8 80 138:7–10 185n36 Proverbs 10:4(LXX) 278n18 10:4a 41 Wisdom of Solomon 183n27 Sirach (LXX) 58, 183n27 6:10 58 14:10 58 29:26 58 31:12 58 40:29 58 45:24 93n10 Isaiah 153, 177–192, 209 1:17 58 3:5 184n32 6:9 57 6:9–10 57 53 22, 22n18 53:7 184n32 53:12 (LXX) 20 54:4–8 72n30 56–66 183 58:3 184n32 60 183, 189 60:1–9 183 60:10–16 183 60:11 184 60:17 (LXX) 153, 153n23, n25, 177–191, 209, 209n30, 260n24 60:17b 184n32 60:17–20 183 60–62 183 62:4–5 72n30 Jeremiah 2 72 24:1 184 41:21 184

301

Index of Ancient Sources

Joel 2:28–34 (= Joel 3:1–5) 258, 258n15, 259n16

Baruch 1:9 184 Ezekiel 16 72n30 20:5–44 84

Zephaniah 1:8 184 Malachi 1:11 212n36 1:14 212n36

Daniel 183n27 7:10 230 Hosea 1–3 72n30

2. Other Jewish Literature m. Abot 61 1:2 58n65, 61 1:4 55n49 1:6 5n12 1:17 61

11.255 284 11.302–347 258n13 12.187 284 15.224 41, 72n29 18.193 41, 72n29

Aristeas 92–95 183n28

Jewish War/De Bello Judaico 3.351–3.353 281 3.354 170n20, 273, 280–281 3.400 281 3.401–2 170n20 4.388 284 4.626 280, 281 4.629 281

2 Baruch (Syriac Apocalypse) 29,3.5–6 72 Flavius Josephus Jewish Antiquities/Antiquitates Judaicae 1.298 283 2.65 41, 72n29 6.52 41, 72n29, 282–283, 283n31 7.165 41, 72n29 7.201 281n29 7.224 281, 281n29 8.169 41, 72n29 8.354 281 9.54–55 281, 282 10.53 184n34 10.187 184n34 10.242 41, 72n29 11.163 41, 72n29 11.166 41, 72n29 11.188 41, 72n29, 283n31 11.228 283

4 Maccabees 9:17 41 Philo

274–285, esp. 274–279

On the Confusion of Tongues/ De Confusione Linguarum 194 278–279 The Contemplative Life/ De Vita Contemplativa 34.64–71 39–40 §§64ff. 275 §65 275 §67 275, 275n5

302 §§70–71 276 §§71–72 275 §71 275 §72 275 §75 275–276 On the Giants/De Gigantibus 12 277, 277n15 14–16 277, 281 On Joseph/De Iosepho 241 278 On Moses 2:199 279

Index of Ancient Sources

On the Posterity of Cain and his Exile 165 278, 279 Psalms of Solomon 233 Ps 12:7 233n22 Ps 17:23 233n22 Qumran Several texts

183n28

Sifre to Deuteronomy 60, 61 Targum Sheni 72

3. New Testament Matthew 4:11 232n16, n17 8:14–15 99n37 9:20 80n4 11:25 171n27, 173 13:14–15 57 15:27 58 17:1–9 267 19:5 56 21 31 21:12 58 25 37, 38 25:29 56 25:31 ff. 35n3 25:31–32 39 25:31–40 208–209 25:31–44 74 25:31–46 31, 32n1, 35 25:44 31–43, 74 27:55–56 98 28:6 237n40 Mark 1:13 41, 174 1:30–31 99n37 4:1–20 57 5:25 80n4 5:42 80n4

6 22, 22n21 6:17–29 72n31 6:30–44 52 6:45–8:26 52 7:24–31 52 7:28 58 8:22–10:52 19 8:27–16:20 19n9 8:27–30 52 8:31 19 8:35 28n39 9:2 267 9:2–10 267 9:31 19 9:35 26, 28n39 10:7 56 10:32–45 19 10:33–34 19 10:41–45 22n19 10:42–44 18, 21 10:42–45 17–29 10:43–44 28, 28n39 10:45 18, 20n11, 22n19, 24, 25n33, 26, 27, 34, 35, 171n27 11:15 58 12:40 58n67 14:36 27

Index of Ancient Sources

14:56–57 83 16:5 267 Luke 1:3–4 79 1:8 232 2:28 54 2:42 80n4 3:3 85n14 3–4 82n11 4:18–19 85n13 4:18 85n14 4:19 85n14 4:25–26 58 4:38 88n22 4:39 59n74 4:43–44 85n13 4:44 85n14 5:3 88n22 5:4 88n22 5:5 88n22 5:8 88n22 5:10 88n22 5:28 56 6:13 80, 81n5 6:14 88n22 6:47 60 7:11–17 58n67 8:1 81n6 8:1–3 59, 95n22 8:1–15 57 8:2–3 98 8:3 46n7, 59n74 8:13 54 8:15 55 8:21 55, 60 8:35 55 8:42–43 80n4 9:1 81n6 9:1–6 85n13 9:2 85n14 9:10 81n5 9:12 81n6 9:17 52 9:17–18 52 9:18 52 9:28–36 267 9:29 267

303

9:48 54 9:51–19:28 52 9:52–53 54 10 48, 60 10:6 54 10:9 54 10:10 54 10:16 54 10:23–24 55 10:25–37 53 10:25–42 48, 87 10:27 62 10:38 55 10:38–42 45–63 (esp. 52–56, 57–60), 66, 66n5, 71n25, 177n1 10:39 56 10:40 52n32, 56, 98n37, 174, 232, 232n16, n17, 277n17 11:1–18:30 53 12:3 85n14 14:1–24 62n84 15:4 56 16:21 58 17:5 81n5 18:1–8 58n67 18:18 60 18:31 81n6 19:23 58 19:26 56 21:1–4 (esp. 21:4) 58n67 22:3 81n6 22:14 81n5 22:20 84 22:21 58 22:24–26 18 22:24–27 49n19 22:27 70 22:30 58 22:31 83n11, 88n22 22:31–32 88 22:32 89 23:34 55, 84, 88n22 23:46 84 24:10 81n5 24:45–49 90 24:47 85n14, 88

304

Index of Ancient Sources

John 2 66, 67, 67n8, 70, 71, 75–77 2:1–11 65–77 2:5 232n16 2:6 65, 73, 76n54 2:6–9 75n44 2:9 66, 232n16 2:11 67n9, 73 8 69 12:2 98n37 12:3 98n37 12:26 66, 70n18, n21, 73 13 17 13:16 106 21 69 Acts 1:2 81n5 1:5 85, 86n16 1:6 85 1:8 84, 88, 90 1:12 89n24 1:14 57 1:14–20 80 1:15–26 152n19, 261 1:17 32, 50 1:20 152n19 1:21–22 80, 90 1:22 81 1:25 32, 50, 200n28 1:26 81n5, 83n11 2 259n16 2:1–3 261 2:1–4 85 2:17 84, 259 2:17–18a 258 2:17–21 258 2:37 81n5 2:38–41 85 2:42 57, 57n65, 81n5 2:43 81n5 2:46 58n65 2:47 83 3:1–10 83n11, 89n25 4:4 83 4:13 129 4:32–37 83 4:33 81n5

4:35 81n5 4:36 81n5 4:37 81n5 5 63, 83 5:1–2 59 5:2 81n5 5:12 51, 81n5 5:12–16 83n11, 89n25 5:14 83 5:16 83 5:18 51, 81n5 5:29 51, 81n5 5:40 51, 81n5 5:42 50, 51, 62, 238 6 4n7, n8, 8n24, 9, 10n38, 11n42, 17, 36, 45–63, 71n25, 84, 86, 104, 152, 153n22, 189, 189n58, 222, 261, 263n35 6:1 49n18, 50, 51, 83 6:1ff. 70 6:1–3 83 6:1–4 52n32 6:1–6 11, 66, 79, 81, 182, 104n4, 189, 208, 222 6:1–7 45–63 (esp. 46–52 and 56–60), 87n18, 104, 177n1, 226, 261, 277n17 6:2 51, 56, 59, 81n6, 87, 171n27 6:3 59n70, 81, 82 6:4 50, 56, 57, 81, 232n18 6:5 83, 222 6:5–6 4n7 6:6 81n5 6:7 48, 56, 57, 83 6:8 85 6:8–8:2 83 6:9 51 6:13 83 6:15 83 7–8 80 7:58–60 84 7:58 84, 89 8 84, 85, 264 8:1 81n5, 84, 85n13, n14, 89 8:1–5 51 8:1–40 83

Index of Ancient Sources

8:4 85 8:4–12 85n13 8:4–40 79–90 (esp. 84–86) 8:5 84, 85, 85n15 8:5–13 83 8:5–24 291 8:6 88 8:7 88 8:8 88 8:9 88, 89 8:9–13 87 8:9–17 261 8:10 88 8:11 88 8:12 85, 89 8:13 88 8:13–14 85 8:14 81n5 8:14–17 85 8:14–24 83n11 8:15 85 8:17 85, 261, 261n29 8:21 88 8:26 84 8:27–39 86 8:38 85 8:39 85n14 8:40 84 9:1–6 85n13 9:4 55, 83n11 9:17–18 86n16 9:20 85n15 9:27 81n5 9:36–41 83n11, 89n25 9:43 89 10 89 10:5 88n22 10:18 88n22 10:32 88n22 10:34–43 85n13 10:37 85n15 10:42 85n15 10:44–48 86n16 11:1 81n5 11:13 88n22 11:27–28 261 11:29 32, 50n27 12:6–10 83n11, 89n25

305

12:12 96n24 12:25 32, 50n27 13:1 191, 261 13:1–3 107 13:6–12 83n11, 89 13:12 86n16 13:48 86n16 14:4 81n5, 107n13 14:8–10 83n11, 89n25 14:14 81n5, 107n13, 171n27 14:20 127 14:22 89n26 14:23 152 15:2 81n5, 152 15:4 81n5, 152 15:6 81n5, 152 15:7–11 89 15:13–21 261 15:21 85n15 15:22 81n5, 152 15:23 81n5, 152 16:4 81n5 16:14–15 96n24 16:15 86n16 16:33 86n16 16:34 58 16:40 96n24 17:4 95 17:12 95 18:18–19 91 18:28 238 19:1–5 86 19:1–7 83n11 19:2–7 86n16 19:8 89n26 19:11–12 83n11, 89n25 19:13 85n15 19:21 51 19:23–40 83n11, 89n25 20 152, 197n18 20:9–10 83n11, 89n25 20:17 127, 152 20:17–38 152, 16 20:24 32, 50 20:25 85n15, 89n26 20:28 152 21:8 63, 79–90, 225, 225n24, 261

306

Index of Ancient Sources

21:8–9 90 21:10–11 261 21:18–25 261 21:19 32, 50 22:3 55, 59 22:7 55 22:16 86n16 22:20 84 23:11 51 26:14 55 28:16–31 51 28:23 89n26 28:25c-27 57 28:31 85n15, 89n2 Romans 1:1 126 2:13 62n85 3:8 121 11:1 151 11:13 32 12:4–8 102n51 12:6–8 102n51 12:7 32, 109, 232n18 12:8 94n12 13:6 231 15:8 97 15:16 231 15:23–24 99 15:25 37, 97 15:25–26 238 15:28 99 15:30–32 46 16:1 58n66, 97, 128, 232 16:1f 114n30 16:1–2 91n2, 92 16:2 58n66, 91n2, 94, 94n13, 221 16:3–5 95n24 16:17–20 121 16:18 121 1 Corinthians 1:1 151, 152n18 1:1–3 179n5 1:3–4 151 1–4 179 1:11 96n24

2:17 112 3 161 3–4 151 3:4–17 152 3:5 97, 152, 204n5, 273 3:6–8 171n27 3:8 171n27 3:9 152, 171n27, 204n5 4:1 152, 204n5 4:9 152 4:17 100n43 4:18 121 9:5 171n27 9:14 112 10:30 121 10:33 158 12:4–5 222, 224n21 12:4–11 109 12:4–31 102n51 12:28 261 15:5–8 107, 113, 115 16:10 100n43 16:10–11 91n2 16:15 188n54 16:15 ff. 96n26 16:19 95n24 2 Corinthians 1:1 151 2:13 92 2:14–6:13 108 2:14–7:4 10n37, 111n24 2:14–16 110 2:17 112n25 3:1 107, 121 3:1–3 108 3:2–5:21 112 3:3 173 3:5f 109 3:6 109, 273 3–6 103 3:7 121, 171n27 3:7–11 110 3:7–18 109 3:12 129 4:1 110 4:2 110 4:4 110

Index of Ancient Sources

4:6 110 4:7 111 4:11 111 4:18 110 5:11–21 111 5:17–21 109 5:18 111 5:19 111 5:20 111 5:20–21 106n12 6:1–10 112 6:3 112 6:4 112n25, 171n27, 273 6:4a 112 6:4b-10 112 8:1–6 (esp. 8:4) 46 8–9 103, 238 8:16–24 100n43 8:19 173 8:20 173 8:23 106 9:1 46 9:12 232 10:2 121 10:10 108 10:12 107 10–13 10n37, 112 10:13–15 121 11 103, 108, 115, 171 11:4 108 11:6 108 11:7f. 112 11:12–15 112 11:13 121 11:13f 113 11:14–15 97, 97n31, 113 11:15 273 11:20 108 11:22 108, 112 11:23 112, 113, 170 11:23b–29 113 12:1 108 12:7–10 114 12:12 108 12–15 46 Galatians 1:1

107, 120, 124, 124n35 107, 204n5

307

1:7 121 2:4 121 2:9 180 2:12 121 2:13 121 2:15–21 62n85 5:9 121 5:12 121 11–12 107 15–16 107 16–17 107 Ephesians 2:20 104, 115 3:7 97, 232n16, 273 4:11 171n27 4:11–12 115 5:18 125n39 6:10–12 171n27, 172 6:19 129 6:21 92, 100, 154n26, 176, 232n16 6:21–22 97 Philippians 1:1

154, 171, 189, 201n33, 205, 205n7, 221, 232, 232n16 1:2 169 1:20 129 2:5–11 209 2:25 106, 204n5, 231 2:25–30 100n43 2:29 91n2 3:19 121 4:2–3 175 Colossians 1:7

97, 154n26, 161, 171, 232n16 1:23 97, 273 1:24–29 115 4:7 92, 154n26, 161, 171, 176 4:7–9 97, 100 4:8–9 100n43 4:15 96n24 4:17 154n26

308

Index of Ancient Sources

1 Thessalonians 3:2 176n68 4:17 171n27 5:12 94, 94n12 1 Timothy 1 120, 121, 122, 125, 126 1:1 115 1:3 124, 221n18 1:3–6 129 1:3–7 118 1:4 118 1:6 121 1:7 121, 123, 124 1:9 121 1:10 121 1:12 126, 154n26 1:19 121 1:20 121, 122 2:7 204n5 2:8–15 119, 128 3 117, 119, 124, 125, 221n18, 261n28 3:1 94n12, 124n37 3:1–7 116, 125 3:1–13 5, 119, 153, 154, 261 3:2 199n25 3:3 123 3:4 94, 94n12, 171n27 3:5 94n12 3:6 121, 126 3:7 121, 162 3:8 117, 119, 121, 125, 128, 169, 171, 221, 232n16 3:8–13 115, 117–130, 225n24 3:9 121, 129, 129n60, 154, 154n26, 157, 186n42 3:10 121, 124n37, 221 3:11 121, 127, 128, 128n56, 171n27 3:11–12 128 3:12 94, 121, 125, 128, 221, 224, 232, 232n16 3:13 121, 125, 126, 128, 129, 221 4 125 4:1–3 119 4:2 121

4:3 121, 125 4:4 129 4:6 97, 115, 126 5:15 121 5:17 94, 94n12, 127, 216 5:17–25 127 5:23 121, 125 5:24 121 6 125 6:1–7 226 6:4 121 6:5 121 6:5–10 123 6:9 121 6:10 129 6:20 118 8 123 2 Timothy 209 2:9 118n6 2:15 204 2:18 121 3:2 121 3:6 121 3:8 121 4:4 121 4:12 100 Titus 1:5 127 1:7 127 1:10 121 1:11 121 1:11–14 121 1:15 121 1:16 121 2:3 125n39 3:8 94n12 3:12 100 3:14 94n12 Philemon 1:1–2 92n3, 95n25 1:2 92 1:12–13 100n43 8 129 10–11 162

Index of Ancient Sources

Hebrews 59n72, 187, 188, 231 1:1 171n27 1:7 231n15 2:6–8 185n36 2:17 187n47 3:1 187n47 4:4 185n36 4:14 187n47 4:15 187n47 5:5 187n47 5:10 187n47 6:20 187n47 8:1–2 231n15 9:1 187n47 James 1:22–27 62n85 1:26–27 58 2:7 121 2:20–25 62n85

2:3 121 2:10 121 2:13 121 2:14 121 2:15 121 2:18 121 1 John 2:1–11 67–68 2 John 1:1 96n24 1:5 96n24 Jude 2 121 4 121 7–8 121 Revelation 257 1:6 247 2:14 121 2:20–22 184n31 3:5 267 4:4 265 7:9–14 267 21:22–27 184n31

1 Peter 4:4 121 5:1–4 127 5:2 119 5:5–6 127 2 Peter 2:1 121

4. Other Early Christian Literature Acta SS Perpetuae et Felicitatis (see also Passio Perpetuae and Felicitatis) 1.1 263n38 3.1 257n9 Acts of Mar Mari (AMM) 242–244 § 30(66) 244n73 § 31(70) 244n73 Acts of Paul 1:7 100n43 Acts of Thomas (Greek/Syriac) 227–244

References to Greek text: 6 229n5 7 229n5 25–27 229n5 55 229n5 85 229n5 90–91 229n5 120 229n5 120–121 229n5, 235n28 132–133 229n5, 235n28 133 229n5 152 229n5, 235n28 157 229n5 References to Syriac text: § 19 240n56

309

310 § 26 § 27 § 33 § 49 § 52 § 59 § 65–67 § 67 § 100 § 120–121 § 121 § 132 § 132–133 § 137 § 139–169 § 152 § 157 § 167 § 169

Index of Ancient Sources

240n56 234n26 240n54 234, 234n25, n26, 235n32 234n24 234n25, 238n52, 240n56 234n25, 236 237n46 240n57 235n28 241n64 234n26 235n28 240n55 237 235n28 241n66 236n39 234n25, 236n38, 237n40, n43

Alcuin of York 5n11 Ambrosiaster

Apostolic Church Order 213 Apostolic Constitutions 98n33, 204, 213 7.31 204 8(63) 237n47 Apostolic Fathers 150, 150n6 Aristides of Athens Apology 15.6 239, 239n53 Arator subdiaconus 75 Augustine De catechizandis rudibus 1, 2 162n67 Sermo app. 92 76n51

Commentarius in epistolam ad Romanos 16.1 134n5

Tractatus in Joannis evangelium VIII 75, 75n46 IX 75, 75n46

Commentarius in epistolas Paulinas 1 ad Tim 3.8–11 251n23

Barnabas Epistle 20.2

Ambrose

Clement of Alexandria 165–176

De Officiis Ministrorum 1,41 204–216 76n51, 52, 53 Aphrahat Demonstrations 18:10 229n5 Apocryphon Ioannis 119, 119n19, 125 Apollinaris of Laodicea 75

121, 239

Excerpta ex Theodoto 165 1.16.1 172n35 1.24.1 171n28 3.58.1 171n27 4.85 41n27 4.85.2 174n56 Paedagogus 165, 172 1.2.4 168n16, 172n32, n33 1.6.45 173n50 1.9.85 171n27

Index of Ancient Sources

1.9.79 170n24 1.10.46 174n52 2.1.11 174n57 2.3.35 174n57 2.3.37 173n48 2.7.53 173n51 2.7.56 171n27 2.10.87 173n42 3.1.2 172n33 3.4.26 174n54 3.4.28 174n53 3.4.29 174n54 3.6.35 174n52 3.10.49 173n40 3.12.97 165n3 Protrepticus

165

Quis dives salvetur 165 10.6.2 174n55 29.4.5 171n27, 172n36 35.2.2 173n39 35.2.4 173n46 Stromata 165 1.1.4 171n27 1.1.7 168n14, 171n27 1.1.13 171n27 1.1.14 173n44 1.17.81 170n24 1.17.85 170n25 1.1.7 168n15 2.8.38 172n34 2.17.77 173n43 2.18.96 172n38, 173n39 3.5.41 173n45 3.6.53 98n34, 165n3, 171n27, 175n66, n67, 176n69 3.12.79 171n27, 172n37 3.12.80 171n27, n28, 172n37 3.12.87 173n41 3.12.88 165n3 4.15.97 173n49 4.17.106 170n22 4.21.132 171n27 5.6.35 171n27 5.10.63 171n27, n28

311

6.2 166n5 6.3.34 169n17, 175n60, n61 6.7.54 166n6 6.8.62 166n8 6.8.67 166n7 6.13.106 167n9, n10, n11, 168n16, 169n18, 172n31, 176n72 6.13.107 165n3, 167n13, 171n27, 172n31, 175n59, 176n70, n71 6.15.115 168n14 6.16.147 173n41 6.17.157 171n28, n29 7.1.3 165n3, 175n62, n63 7.7.41 171n27, 173n47 Clement of Rome First Epistle of Clement 153, 177–192, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 260n24 1:2–3:1 179 1:3 179 3:3 179 4 180 4:1–39:9 181 5 180 7:2 180 9:1 180 13:1 180 14:2 180 15:1 121 15:2 185n36 16:1 188n53 21:2 185n36, 26:2 185n36 28:2 180, 185n36 30:11 121 32:2 187 36:2 188 39:2–9 180 40 182 40:1 180, 181, 182 40:1–41:4 181 40:1–43:6 181 40:1–44 181, 191 40:1–61:3 181

312

Index of Ancient Sources

40:2 182 40:3 182 40:4 182 40:5 182, 187, 210n32 40–41 182 40–44 178, 180–182, 190 40–65 181 41 182, 183 41:1 180, 183 41:1–5 153 41:2–4 183 41:3 182 41:4 180 42 183, 190 42:1–2 183 42:1–5 153, 262 42:1–43:6 181 42:4 183, 210n33 42:4–5 186, 189, 201n33 42:5 153, 153n23, 177–192 esp.182–189, 210n31, 260n24 42–44 186 43 183 43:3 187n46 44 4, 127, 182, 183 44:1 182 44:1–47:7 181 44:2 182 44:3 179, 182, 188n53 44:3–6 182 44:4 186, 187, 192 44:4–5 186 44:5 186, 187, 216n6 44:5–6 186 44:6 179, 182, 187 44:8 179 45 181 45:1 179, 182 45:8 182 46:1 182 47:6 179, 216n6 51:9 180 54:2 179, 179n8, 188n53 58:2 179 60:11 184 60:17b1 184 61:3 187

63:3 100–101n46 64 187 65:1–2 181 Second Epistle of Clement 17.3 216n6 17.5 216n6 Cyprian of Carthage 252–253 De lapsis 25 253 Epistles 3.3 253 4 252n33 10.1 252n31, n32 18 253 75.1 253 Cyril of Alexandria Homilia 69 in Lucam 54n45 In Joannis evangelium 75, 75n48 Didache 190, 203–213 1–4 239 1–5/6 208 1–6 203, 207 7.1–3 234n26 7–10 203, 207, 208 7–13 213 9–10 205n9, 235n27 11.1–6 261 11–13 207 11–15 203 14–15 207 14 207, 212 14.1–2 203 14.1–15.3 206n13 14.3 212 15 190, 212, 261n28 15.1 201n33

Index of Ancient Sources

15.1–2

152n20, 153, 154, 190, 203, 204, 206, 208, 261, 262 15.3–4 203 16 203 Didascalia (Syrian) 9 157n46, 159 Didascalia Apostolorum 98, 213, 232, 234 Doctrina Addai 242–244 f 25a–25b 242n69 Epistulae Ecclesiarum apud Lugdunum et Viennam 2.5.5. 222, 222n19 Eusebius of Caesarea Historia Ecclesiastica 150, 150n8, n9, 220 III.1.1–3 228n3 III.9.2–3 220 III.16 178 III.36.12 150n8 IV 220 IV 23.10 179n6 IV.25 220 IV.30 13n50 V 220 V.1 13n50 V.3–2-13.1 220 V.8–9 220 V.12–17 220n14 V.20.1 220n14 V.20.2 220n14 V.20.4–8 220n14 V.24:11 220n14 V.26 220n14 Francis of Assisi 5n11 Gaudentius of Brescia 76 Tractatus IX, De Evangelii lectione 76n54

313

Geert Groote 5n11 Gregory of Nyssa 75, 234 Paschal Homilies 4 (PG 46 col. 681)      234n26 44:5 (PG 36 col. 611)    234n26 45:2 (PG 36 col. 623)     234n26 Heracleon (Gnostic)     74–75 Hermas, see Shepherd of Hermas Hippolytus Traditio Apostolica/Apostolic Tradition 4:2 238n48 8:2 238n48 9 267n55 21:3 241n65 22:1 238n48 25:1 238n48 34 160n58 34:1 238n48 Ignatius of Antioch 74, 99, 149–163, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212 Epistle to the Ephesians 1.3 155 2.1 156n38, 160, 162 2.2 156, 163n74 3.1 155n36, 161n62 4.1 156, 162n70 6.2 155 12.2 161n62 20.2 156, 163n74 Epistle to the Magnesians 2 155, 156, 160 2.1 99n39, 159, 162 2.2 156n38 3.1 157n46, 159, 162n73, 216n6 4.1 156 6.1 99n39, 156, 157, 157n44, n46, 158, 159, 162, 208n20, 216n6, 262n31

314

Index of Ancient Sources

6.1.f 104 6.2 104 7.1 156 13.1 156, 158, 208n20 13.1–2 157–158 13.2 158 15.1 155 Epistle to the Philadelphians Intro 156, 208n21, n25 3.1 208n21 4 262n31 4.1 99n39, 156, 160 5.1 156 7.1 156, 163n74 10 160 10.1 156n39 10.1–2 99n42 11 208n24 11.1 156, 156n38, 162 11.2 160 Epistle to Polycarp 2.2 121 5 156 8.1 150n7 Epistle to the Romans 2.2 160 5.1 150n7 Epistle to the Smyrnaeans 8.1 156, 157n46, 159n56, 163n74, 208n23, 262n31 10.1 156 11.2–3 99n42 12.1 160 12.2 99n39, 156, 160, 163n74 Epistle to the Trallians 1 158 2.1 158 2.1–2 156 2.2 158, 159 2.3 104, 157, 157n41, 158, 163, 208n26, 209n28 3.1 101n50, 104, 156, 158, 159, 159n56, 216n6, 262

7.1.2 155n35 7.1–2 156 7.2 208n22 12.2 216n6 13.2 15 Irenaeus of Lyon 149n2, 215–226 esp. 219–224 and 220n14 Adversus Haereses 4n8, 219–224 I.13.5 221 I.25.2 220 II.28.7 222, 224n21 II.32.7 223 II.35.4 223 III 221 III.9.2–3 220 III.12.10 4n8, 149n2, 221–222, 225 III.12.16 220 IV 220 IV. 26.5 185n37 V 220 V.3.2–13.1 220 Epideixis/Demonstration 219, 220 Other works by Irenaeus 220n14, n15 John Chrysostom 75–76 Homiliae in Joannem 76n50 Jerome De viris illustribus 53 245n3 Justin Martyr 74, 215–226, esp. 215–219, 235n27

Index of Ancient Sources

Apologies 215, 216 First Apology 216, 215–226, 235n27 65.1 216 65.2 216 65.3 217n9 65.5 217, 218, 219 65–67 35n27 67.5 218 Second Apology 216 Dialogue with Trypho 215, 216 Odes of Solomon 6:11–14 233n21 6:13 233 11:22 233 12:7 233n22 17:23 233n22 19:3–4 229n5 29:8 233 29:11 233 Origen

75–76

Commentarius in Evangelium Johannis 75, 75n43 fr.29, IoGCS10, 505 75 Passio Perpetuae and Felicitatis 99n39, 525, 253, 255–71 1–2 257, 258 1.3 257, 258 3 252 3.1 257n9, 264 3.7 262, 269 4.2 257 4.3–9 258 4.8 267 6 252 6.7 269 6.7–8 264 7.6 259n20 9 268 10 252, 268

315

10.2 269n64 10.14 268 11.1 259n20 11.2–13 264 13.1 265 13.6 270 17.1 259n20 21.11 262n33 Polycarp of Smyrna 208, 209, 210, 211, 212 Letter to the Philippians 1 101–102n50, 209 2:5–11 209 2:7 209 5:2 209 Psalms of Solomon 2:41 233 10:4 233 12:7 233, 233n22 17:23 233, 233n22 Pseudo-Augustine Sermo 92 76 Pseudo-Dionysius The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy 168 Pseudo-Hippolytus 76, 76n50 Pseudo-Maximus B 76 Rufinus Origens Commentary on Romans 16.1 134n5 Shepherd of Hermas 153, 191, 193–202, 208, 210, 211, 212, 257n8 Mandates 1–12 193n1 2.6 199n28, 200, 200n28 2.7.10 199n28

316

Index of Ancient Sources

2.11 199n28 4.3.1 194, 194n6, 199, 199n27 6.2.7 199 8.4.1–2 199n28 8.10 199n26 8.12 199n26 10.2.4 199n28 10.4.1 199n28 12.3.3 199n28 Similitudes 1.9 199n28, 200 1–10 193n1 2.7 199n28 8.4.1–2 199n28 2.10 200 5.1.3 199 7.6 200n28 8.3.2 194 8.6.5 199 9 195 9.1.9 196 9.4.3 196 9.5.3–4 196 9.15.4 191n66, 194, 194n5, n7, 195, 196, 196n14, n15, 199, 201, 201n34, 202 9.16 195, 196 9.16.5 194, 199 9.16.5–6 194n7 9.16.7 196 9.17.1 194 9.17.2 194, 195 9.18.2 195n11 9.19.2 194, 194n6, 199 9.22.2 199 9.25.2 194, 194n7, 199 9.26 200n31 9.26.1 196 9.26.2 194n6, 195, 196, 199, 199n28, 200n28, n30, 201, 201n31, 202, 210 9.26–27 201n31 9.27 194, 198, 202 9.27.1 198 9.27.2 194n6, 199n26, n28 9.31.5–6 197n18 10.2.4 199n28 10.4.1 199n28

Visions 1–5 193n1 1.1.1 197 1.1.3 197 1.1.9 195n11 2.1.3–4 197 2.2.6–7 196 2.4.2 197 2.4.2–3 197, 202 2.4.3 195n11, 197n18, 200– 201n31 2.2.6 197, 197n18, 202 2.2.6–7 196, 202 3 195 3.1.8 197n18 3.2.4 196 3.2.5 195 3.5.1 153, 191n66, 193, 194, 194n5, 195, 196, 197n19, 198, 198n20, n21, n22, 191n66, 199n27, 201, 201n34, 202 210, 262 3.9.7 197, 197n18, 202, 210 4.1.8 199 Tertullian Ad martyras 1.1 251 Ad uxorem libri duo 2.4 251n26, n27, 252n29 Adversus Marcionem 5.8.11 251 Apologeticus pro christianis 39 251n26 De anima 9.4

251, 251n22

De baptismo 264 1.3 251 17 246, 264 17.1 249 17.1–2 263 17.2 247n12

317

Index of Ancient Sources

De exhortatione castitatis 7.3 245n3 7.3–4 247 10 251 De fuga in persecutione 11.1 249, 250, 250n19 13.3 249 De idololatria 260n23 De ieiunio 246 12 251n27 De monogamia 11.1 248, 249–250, 250n19

De praescriptione haereticorum 247, 249, 250 3.5 250, 263 32.3 249 41.5 251 41.6–8 247 41.8 249 De pudicitia 246, 248 1.6 248 21.16 249 De virginibus velandis 9.1 251 17.3 251n22 Theodore of Mopsuestia 75

5. Greco-Roman Literature Ammonius of Alexandria 75 Apuleius Metamorphoses 11 257 Aristophanes Ecclesiazousiai 116 135n9 Atheneus of Naucratis Deipnosophistae 192b 41 Catullus Carmina 63.68 137n28 Cicero De re publica 1.6.6. 135n16 Demosthenes 165 Timocrates 197 278n18

Dio Cassius Historia Romana 54.23.4 41 Dio Chrysostom Orationes 3.75 26n37 Diogenes Laertius Vitae 2.51 144n78 Festus Epitoma

137, 137n26

Heraclides of Cyme Fragmente der Griechischen Historiker (FGrH) 2.96 41 Herodotus 165 Histories I.21 105–106 V.38 105–106

318

Index of Ancient Sources

Inscriptions: AE 1946, 154 (Bona Dea 134) 142n60 Bona Dea 133 142n62 CFA 55, 65, 98 et al., Arval B. 139n36 CIL 22/7, 3 144n74 CIL 3, 11009 (AE 1964, 190) 144n77, 148n98 CIL 5, 762a (Bona Dea 113a) 142n 56 CIL 5, 762b (Bona Dea 113b) 142n55 CIL 5, 5026 147n95 CIL 6, 68 (Bona Dea 44) 141n47, 143n64, 148n98 CIL 6, 72 (Bona Dea Hygia) 141n47 CIL 6, 76 (Bona Dea 24) 143n71 CIL 6, 496 141n46 CIL 6, 1779 146n93 CIL 6, 2060 (CFA 49), Arval B. 139n36 CIL 6, 21497 145n81 CIL 6, 2213 145n80 CIL 6, 2237 (Bona Dea 25) 141n51 CIL 6, 2237 (Bona Dea 26) 141n51 CIL 6, 2238 (Bona Dea 27) 142n53 CIL 6, 2240 (Bona Dea 36) 142n54 CIL 6, 21497 145n81 CIL 9, 3146 145n88 CIL 9, 4460 146n90 CIL 10, 4789 145n86 CIL 10, 4790 145n86 CIL 10, 4791 145n85 CIL 10, 4849 (Bona Dea 75) 143n71 CIL 11, 1916 146n91 CIL 11, 4635 (Bona Dea 93) 142n53, n58 CIL 12, 654 (Bona Dea 130) 142n57

IG 14, 719 (I. Napoli, 1,6) 146n92 PIR12, 242 145n81 Lucian of Samosata Dialogi Deorum 4.4 40 5.2 40 24.2 41 Lucretius De rerum natura 2.606–609 137n28 Macrobius Saturnalia 1.12.26 143n69 3.6.15 138, 138n35 Naevius Belli Punici 4 frag. 33 139n36 Nonius De compendiosa doctrina lib. 2 139n36 Ovid Fasti 3.47 137n29 4.219 137n28 4.413–414 140n41 6.289–290 137n29 6.321 137n28 6.437 137n29 Metamorphoses 2.716–718 139n38 9.89–90 135n16 Tristia 4.2.35–36 139n40 Petronius Satyricon 117.3 144n78 Photinus of Constantinople 75

319

Index of Ancient Sources

Plato 165 Leges 763a 278n18 955 37n13 955c 37 Gorgias 491e 46 Politeia 290c-d 47 Respublica 370e 47 Plautus Bacchae 306–307 144n78 Pliny the Younger 133–148 Epistulae ad Trajanum 2.1.8 140n45 4.8.3 140n45 4.8.5 140n45 6.6.3 140n45 10.31.2 135, 135n10 10.32.1 135, 135n10 10.96.7–8 134, 134n4 10.96.8 135n10 Plutarch Moralia 174d 41 678 E-F 69 Propertius Elegiae 137, 138 4:11.49 137n28 3.10.29 138n31 Pseudo-Quintilian Declamationes 135 18.12 135n14 Quintilian Declamationes minores 301.21 135 n13

Sedulius, Epistola ad Macedonium, 134n5 Seneca De beneficiis 1.4.2 94 Servius 138 In Vergilii Aeneidos libros 5.606 138n32 8.269 138n33 11.558 138n34 Statius Silvae 1.1.36

137 138, 138n30

Strato(n) of Sardis Fragmenta APL 12.194 41 Suetonius De vitis caesarum Galba 8.2 139n37 9.1 268n62 Tiberius 44.2 139n36 Theodore of Heraclea 75 Tibullus Elegiae 1.5.3

135, 135n16

Troizenis of Peloponnesos, see Thyrrenia of Akarnia Tyrrhenia of Akardia (list) IG IV 774 276 IG IV 824 276 IG IX 12 2.247 276n10 Vergil 138, 139, 140 Aeneis 5.237–238 139n36 9.803 138n32

320 11.836 138 11.836–837 138n33 Georgica 3.486, 48–9 140n42, n43 4.110–11 138

Index of Ancient Sources

Xenophon Hiero 4.2 41 Historia Graeca 3.4.6. 41

Index of Modern Authors Adams, Edward  218, 218–219n13 Albrecht, Felix  156n37 Alcock, Anthony  119n8 Alexander, Loveday C.  52n32, 149n1 Alikin, Valeriy A.  200n30 Amat, Jacqueline  255n1, 263n35 Aus, Roger  72–73 Avemarie, Friedrich  22n17 Avis, Paul  11n41 Baarlink, Heinrich  20n10, 25n33 Backhaus, Knut  20n10, 25n33 Bakke, Odd M.  180–182 Barclay, John  120n18 Barnes, Timothy D.  133n1–3, 245n3, n4 Barnett, James Monroe  9n34 Barnett, Paul  108n17 Barrett, Charles K.  107n13 Barris, Jeremy  257m 257n8 Barth, Karl  35, 36n5 Batovici, Daniel  200n30 Bauer, Walter  97n32, 128n55 Beard, Mary  139n40 Beek, Cornelius van  255n1 Bekkum, Willem van  9n28 Bendemann, Reinhard von  52, 53n34 Beneden, Pierre van  248n16 Benedict XVI/Ratzinger, Joseph  4n7, n9, 36, 36n10 Benedict, Hans-Jürgen  11n41, 42, 43, 43n29–31 Besser, Rudolf  8n26 Beuken, Willem A.M.  183–184 Beyer, Hermann W.  10n37, 34, 34n2, 45, 45n3, 46, 103n2 Bieberstein, Sabine  54n46, 55n51 Bieringer, Reimund  47n13, 108n16 Bilde, Per  280n24, 281n26 Bindley, Thomas Herbert  247n13

Black, Matthew  230n8 Bobichon, Philippe  216n3 Böhme, Hartmut  269, 269n69 Bömer, Franz  136, 136n24, 137n24 Bonhoeffer, Dietrich  178 Bonnet, Max  227n2 Bookidis, Nancy  276n11 Borgen, Peder  277n14 Bornkamm, Günther  91n1 Bradley, Keith R.  241n59 Brandenburger, Egon  32n1 Brandt, Wilhelm  10n37, 45, 35n2 Braun, René  245n3 Bremmer, Jan N.  228n3, 241n59, 255, 255n1–2, 256n3, 257n10, 264n44, 265n52, 269n68, n69 Brent, Allen  150n9, 151n11, 209n29 Bretschneider, Carolus Gottlieb  47n12 Brinkhof, Joke H.A.  79–90, 261n29, 291 Brodd, Sven-Erik  4n5, 5n13, 8n22 Bromiley, Geoffrey  26n5 Brouwer, Hendrik H.J.  141–143 Brown, Peter  4n3, 95n22 Brox, Norbert  193–201 Brunt, Peter A.  215n1 Bulhart, Vinzenz  136, 136n22 Bultmann, Rudolf Karl  68n11 Burns, James Patout  246n8 Burtchaell, James T.  260n21 Busse, Ulrich  49n19, 53n36, 66n5, 68–69, 70n18, 71, 74 Butler, Rex D.  259n16 Cadbury, Henry J.  83n11 Calvin, John (Jean)  8, 8n24 Campbell, R. Alistair  150n5, 155n36 Campenhausen, Hans Freiherr von  188n54, 197n19, 201n31

322

Index of Modern Authors

Carter, Warren  52n32, 54, 54n41, n44, 55n47, n57 Chryssavgis, John  5n10 Clark, Anna  146n91 Clarke, Frank  38n14 Clarke, Graeme Wilber  253n35 Clauss, Manfred  144n72, n73 Cohick, Lynn H.  91n2, 93, 93n8 Colijn, Brenda B.  25n33 Collins, John N.  8n27, 10–14, 17–19, 23n23, 24–25, 27n38, 29, 31–43, 45–51, 54n46, 58, 59n71, 62, 66, 66n4, 70–72, 74, 74n41, 87, 87n17, 97, 97n27, n28, 29, 103n2, 105n6, 110n22, 112n25, 115n32, 117n3, 126n43, 127n52, 129n59, 149n1, 156, 156n37, n39, 158n57, n50, 161n66, 165–176, 177n1, 186n42, 188n50, 189n60, 191n68, 192n69, 196n14, 199n28, 200n29, 274, 274n3, 276n9, 277n15, 281n24, n27, n29, n30, 282, 283n31, 291 Collins, Raymond F.  117n2 Colson, Jean  198n23 Conzelmann, Hans  118, 118n5 Cook, John Granger  133–148, 291 Coppens, Joseph  49n17 Cranfield, Charles E.B.  36, 36n6 Crouch, J.E.  32n1 Crijns, Hub  11n41, 43n33 Cumming, John  38n17 Daly Denton, Margaret  149n1 Dassmann, Ernst  39, 39n21, 187, 187n49 Daube, David  49n18 Daumas, François  276n13 Davies, Stevan  119n9 De Mingo Kaminouchi, Alberto  22n21 Della Putta, Chiara  13n48 Denaux, Adelbert  52n33 Dennis, Rodney G.  135n16 deSilva, David  95n21 Dibelius, Martin  118, 118n5, 194n6, 197n19, 198n22, 200n29, 201n34, n35 Dietzel, Stefan  10n37, 11n41 DiLuzio, Meghan J.  145, 145n8 Ditewig, William T.  9n28 Dobbeler, Axel von  59n70, 80n2, 88n20, n21

Donahue, John R.  19n9, 20n12, 21n16, 22n18, 24n32 Dörnberg, Burkhard Freiherr von  256n7, 257n9 Dunderberg, Ismo  11n41, 13n48 Dunn, Geoffrey D.  247n12 Dunn, James  94, 94n14, n15 Dylan, Bob  3 Edwards, J. Christopher  22n18 Egelhaaf-Gaiser, Ulrike  145, 145n82 Ego, Beate  5n12 Eisele, Wilfried  68n11 Elliott, James K.  227n2 Ellis, Edward Earle  92n4 Elm, Susanna  134n8 Eltrop, Bettina  11n41 Enke, Ferdinand  13n50, 155n33 Evans, Craig, A.  19n9, 20n12, 21n13, n16, 185, 185n38, 189, 189n56 Evans, Ernest  246n9 Fabien, Patric  80n2, 88n20 Fairclough, Henry Rushton  140n42 Faivre, Alexandre  4n4, 11n42, 155n32, 156n37, 158n50, 159n 55, 178n2, 262n30 Filoramo, Giovanni  119n8 Fitzmyer, Joseph A.  54n41, n42, 55, 55n57, 79n1, 82n10 Fless, Friederike  140n44 Fliedner, Theodor  8, 9, 9n31, 45, 45n1 Flusser, David  154, 261n28 Formisano, Marco  255, 255n1, n2, 256n3, 257n10, 269n68, n69 Foster, Paul  215–226, 292 Foucart, Paul François  276n9 Frenschkowski, Marco  257n8, 270, 270n71 Frey, Jörg  14, 105n13, n14, n15 Garcia Ramón, José L.  145n83 Gaspar, Veerle Maria  140n44, n45, 143, 143n66, 146n89 Georges, Tobias  246n5 Georgi, Dieter  10, 10n37, 17n2, 47n13 Gerhardsson, Birger  52n31, 55, 55n48 Gerhardt, Martin  45n1 Gewieß, Josef  153n22

Index of Modern Authors

323

Gibaut, John St. H.  10n36, 154n32, 162n68, 163n75, n77, 178n2, 186, 186n45, 189n59, 261n30 Giles, Kevin  93, 93n9 Glock, Anne  145n80 Gnilka, Joachim  22n21 Gnuse, Robert Karl  281, 281n28 Gollnick, James  258n11 Gooder, Paula  11n41 Goodrich, John K.  119n15, 120, 120n17, n19, 121–122, 125n39, 152n17, 260n26 Goold, George Patric  140n42 Gräßer, Erich  108n17, 112n26 Gray, Patrick  100, 100n44 Greshake, Gisbert  38, 38n18 Grol, Harm W.M. van  65n1 Grundeken, Mark  193–202, 292 Guerra, Liborio Hernández  144n75

24n30, 25, 25n35, n36, 29, 29n41, 37, 37n12, 39, 42, 42n28, 71, 71n27, 87n17, 103–115, 117n1, 126n43, 127n50, 128n54, 129n59, n60, 152n16, 177n1, 260n25, 274, 274n3, 292 Herrmann, Volker  10n37, 36, 36n9, 60n75 Hertz, Géraldine  279n19, n20 Heschel, Abraham Joshua  62, 62n83 Heyob, Sharon Kelly  146, 146n92 Holmes, Michael W.  101n46 Horrell, D.G.  179n5 Horsley, G.H.R.  98n33 Houtepen, Anton  47n13 Howard, George  227n2 Hübner, Reinhard M.  186n45, 187n49, 197n19, 201n31 Hunink, Vincent  256n3

Haendler, Gert  176n73 Hagner, Donald Alfred  185, 186, 186n41, 187n47, 189 Hahn, Ferdinand  107n13, n15 Hahneman, Geoffrey, M.  194n5 Halleux, André de  205n7, 206, 206n12 Hammann, Gottfried  9n34, 150n10 Hanson, Anthony T.  126n44 Harnack, Adolf von  178, 178n4, 195n12, 197n19, 201n32, n34, 253n34 Harrak, Amir  227n2 Harrill, J. Albert  135, 135n10, n11 Harrington, Daniel J.  19n9, 20n12, 21n16, 22n18, 24n32 Harris, Rendel  227n2, 233n21 Hartman, Richard  11n41 Hartog, Paul  209n28 Hatch, Edwin  153n22, 154, 154n29, 157n46, 159n53 Hausschildt, Eberhard  8n22 Head, Peter  100, 100n45 Heffernan, Thomas J.  255n1, 256n3, 257n8, n10, 263n35, 264n41, n43, 265–270 Hemelrijk, Emily Ann  141n46, 145n84 Hengel, Martin  110n22 Henten, Jan Willem van  21–22n17 Hentschel, Anni  11, 11n39, n40, n41, 17, 17n2, 18, 18n5, 19, 19n8, 23, 23n26, 24,

Jaubert, Annie  182n27, 183n27, 188, 188n52 Jeffers, James S.  197n18, 200n28 Jefford, Clayton N.  150n6, 203–213, 261n27, 292 Jensen, Robin Margaret  246n8, 248n15, 249n18, 253n34 Jervell, Jacob  153n22 Jewett, Robert  93n7, 99, 99n38, n40, 101, 101n48 Johnson, Caroline  235n28 Johnson, Luke Timothy  63, 63n86, 117, 121n21, 122, 122n30, 123, 123n30, n34 Johnson, Mark  279n21 Joly, Robert  151n11, 197n19, 198n20, n22 Jonas, Dirk  59, 59n75, 60 Joncas, Jan M.  245n1 Junod, Éric  150, 150n10, 156, 157, 157n42, 160n59, n60 Kahana, Hanna  72n33 Kannegieser, Charles  74n42, 75, 75n44 Karris, Robert J.  122, 122n28, n29, n31, 125n38, n40 Kaster, Robert A.  138n35 Katz, Vincent  137n28 Kearsley, Rosalinde A.  94, 94n18m 95n19, n20 Keck, Leander E.  4n6

324

Index of Modern Authors

Klauck, Hans-Josef  88n20 Kleine, Werner  111n23 Klijn, Albertus Frederik Johannes  162n71, 227, 227n1, 235n32, 237n40, n41 Koet, Bart J.  3–14, 17n3, 43, 43n33, 45–63, 65–77, 82n11, 83n12, 87, 87n18, 149–163, 177–192, 210n31, 251n25, 255–271, 277n17, 283n32, 292 Konstan, David  269n68 Koperski, Veronica  52n31 Kraft, Henricus  155n35 Krimm, Herbert  174n58 Kroon, Caroline H.M.  139n38 Küng, Hans  38, 38n15, n17 Laato, Anni Maria  245–253, 264n42, 293 LaCelle-Peterson, Kristina  98n35 Lake, Kirsopp  157n41, 158n48, n51, 182, 262n31 Lakoff, George  279n21 Lampe, Peter  197n19, 200n30, 301n35, 218, 218n10, n11, n12 Lattimore, Richmond Alexander  146n89 Latvus, Kari  8n24, 9, 9n35, 11n41, 104n4 Lawless, George  75n46 Leder, Paul August  13n50, 155n33 Leis, Annette  7n19 Lemaire, A.  186n45, 187n48 Lenhardt, Pierre  61, 61n80, n82 Leutzsch, Martin  193n1, 195n12, 197n19, 198n22, 200n30, 201n31, n34, n35 Liddell, H.G., R. Scott & H.S. Jones  97n32, 277n16 Liebs, Detlef  133n2 Lietzmann, Hans  154, 154n31, 200– 201n31 Lightfoot, Joseph B.  150n10, 159, 159n54 Lindner, Molly  137n25 Lipsius, Richard Adelbert  227n2 Lissarrague, François  276n11 Llewelyn, Stephen  99n41 Löhe, Wilhelm  8, 8n26 Lona, Horacia E.  180n16, 181–182, 186–188 Lührmann, Dieter  20n12 Luraghi, Silvia  274n4 Lütgehetmann, Walter  69n16, 70, 70n22

Luz, Ulrich  32n1, 36, 36n7 Lyons, George  120n18 MacLaren, James S.  280n22 MacSeumain, Peadar  38n8 Madigan, Kevin  10n36, 12, 12n44, n45, 201n31 Maier, Harry O.  178n3, 194n5, 195n10, 197n18, n19, 200n30 Malkavaara, Mikko  7n21 Maloney, Linda M.  206n11 Mann, C.S.  21n16, 23n24, 24n32 Martimort, Aimé-Georges  12n43, 98n33 Martínez Deschamps, Monserrat  6n15 Marshall, I. Howard  216n7, 221n18 Marx, Karl  9, 45 Mathew, Susan  91n1, 96n26, 101, 101n47 McGowan, Andrew  252, 252n28, n30 Meeks, Wayne  95n24, 99n41 Menken, Maarten J. J.  67, 67n7, 72n30, 185n35 Merkel, Helmut  5n12 Merkelbach, R.  146n92 Merklein, Helmut  109n21 Mertel, Teodolfo  5n11 Midden, Piet van  65n1 Miedema, Anne  23n25 Mikat, Paul  179n8 Milavec, Aaron  190–191, 261n28 Mingana, Alphonse  227n2 Minns, Dennis  216–217 Mirguet, Françoise  280n22, 281n25 Mirón Pérez, María Dolores  144n75 Mitchell, Margaret M.  106n9, n10, n11, 12, 113n27, 115n31 Moessner, David P.  54n40, 82n11, 89n25 Mommsen, Theodor  145, 145n87 Montanari, Franco  277n16 Moore, Mark E.  19n9 Moriarty, W.  183n29 Morris, Leon  101, 101n49 Moulton, J.H.  24n29 Mounce, William D.  117–119, 121n20, 124–128, 224, 224n23 Mowczko, Margaret  91–102, 293 Muilenburg, James  205n10 Müller, Gerhard Ludwig  39n20 Munier, Charles  150n10

Index of Modern Authors

Murphy, Edwina  3–15, 293 Murphy-O’Connor, Jerome  94n11 Musurillo, Herbert  99n39, 222n19 Neuberth, Ralph  48n15, 49, 49n16, n17, 52n31, 55n56, 57n62 Neymeyr, Ulrich  194n7, n9 Niederwimmer, Kurt  206n11 Nikki, Nina  120n18 Noël, Filip  52n33, 53n35 Noller, Annette  7n20, 8n23 Noordegraaf, Herman  43n33 North, Wendy E.S.  49n19, 54n42, 66n5 Ockenden, Ray and Rosaleen  38n15 Ollick, Gregory R.  6n15 Olsson, Birger  70, 70n19, n20, n21 O’Meara, Thomas  38, 38n16 Orban, Arpad P.  259, 259n19 Osborn, Eric Francis  246n5 Osiek, Carolyn  10n36, 12, 12n44, n45, 95n21, 193n3, 195n10, 197n18, n19, 198n20, n22, 199n28, 201n31, 35, 210n34 Osten-Sacken, Peter von der  61, 61n80, n82 Pädam, Tiit  7n18 Palmer, Robert E.A.  137n27 Parker, Robert  283n31 Parpola, Simo  230n10 Parvis, Paul  216n2, n4, n5, 217n9 Parvis, Sara  220n14, n15, 259, 259n18 Paschke, Boris A.  120n16m 125n39 Payne Smith, Robert  231n11 Perkins, Judith  256n3 Pesch, Rudolf  49n17 Peterson, David G.  225n24 Philippi, Paul  9, 9n32 Phillips, George  227n2 Pietersen, Lloyd  122n27 Pihlava, Kaisa-Maria  95n23, 96n25 Pilhofer, Peter  188n51, 258n14 Pohjolainen, Terttu  7n21 Pompey, Heinrich  36, 3 6n11 Powell, Douglas  246n5 Putnam, Michael C. J.  135n16

325

Rahner, Karl  8, 198n23 Ramelli, Ilaria L.E.  242n67, 256n3 Rankin, David  245n2, 246n6, n7, n8, n10, 247n11, 248n17, 249n18, 250n20, n21, 251n24 Rastoin, Marc  83n11 Ratzinger, Joseph, see Benedict XVI Reger, Franz  11n41 Reid, Barbara E.  54n44, 55n55 Reimer, Andy M.  88n20 Reininger, Dorothea  12n43 Rengstorf, Karl Heinrich  105n8 Renssen, Toon  20n10 Richard, Earl  82n10 Richards, Kent Harold  4n6 Richlin, Amy  141n50, 147, 147n96 Riesenfeld, Harald  55n48 Rius-Camps, Josep  150, 151, 151n12, n13, n14, 160, 160n61, 161 Robinson, Arthur  136n23 Robinson, Joseph Armitage  205n10 Robinson, Olivia R.  215n1 Robinson, Thomas A.  209n27 Rohde, Joachim  195n12, 197n19, 199n28 Rolfe, John C.  139n37 Roloff, Jürgen  103n3, 105n8 Ross, David  23n25 Rouwhorst, Gerard  205n9 Rubenbauer, Johannes  136, 136n20, n21, 140n44 Ruddat, Günther  35, 35n3 Rudhardt, Jean  283n31 Rüegger, Heinz  43, 43n32 Rüpke, Jörg  145n79 Ryökäs, Esko  3–14, 293 Safrai, Shmuel  51n29 Saint-Denis, Eugene de  140, 140n43 Sander, Stefan  11n41 Sander-Gaiser, Martin  9n30, 70n23, 283n32 Sandt, Huub van de  154, 190n61, 205n9, 261n28 Santos, Narry F.  21n16, 28n39 Savinel, Pierre  273, 273n1 Saxer, Victor  264n42 Schäfer, Gerhard K.  32, 35, 35n3, 36, 36n9, 57n63

326

Index of Modern Authors

Schille, Gottfried  57n63 Schleiermacher, Friedrich  52, 52n33 Schnabl, Christina  29n41 Schoedel, William R.  150n9, n10, 156, 157, 157n40, n45, 159, 159n52 Schöllgen, Georg  154n31, 157n46, 159, 159n57, 205n9 Schröter, Jens  111n24 Schuddeboom, Feyo  146n93, 147, 147n94 Schultz, Celia E.  141, 141n48, 143n63, n64 Schüssler Fiorenza, Elisabeth  23n23, 29n41, 54n46, 174n55 Schweizer, Eduard  38n14, 171n26 Schwemer, Anna M.  110n22 Scimmi, Moria  12n43 Seeley, David  22n19, 26n37 Segal, Judah  229n7 Seidl, Johann Nepomuk  6n14, 155n33 Seim, Turid Karlsen  54n46, 59, 59n73, n74 Seitz, Christopher R.  4n6 Seppälä, Serafim  227–244, 294 Shackleton Bailey, David Roy  138n30 Shaw, Brent D.  265n48 Shelton, Jo-Ann  134, 134n7, 135n11 Sherwin-White, Adrian Nicholas  134, 134n6 Shoemaker, Stephen  229, 229n6 Sierksema-Agteres, Suzan J. M.  24n28 Sigrist, Christoph  43, 43n32 Smit, Joop F. M.  82n11 Smit, Peter-Ben  17–29, 294 Smith, Carl B.  158n49, 161n64 Smith, Dennis E.  58n69 Smith, Harold  75n45, 76n49, n50 Smitmans, Adolf  75n45, n47, 76, 76n51 Smulders, Pieter  151n14 Söding, Thomas  20n10 Sohm, Rudolph  117n3 Spencer, F. Scott  80n2, 88n20 Stewart, Alistair C./A. Stewart-Sykes  149n3, 151n15, 152n21, 53n23, 154n30, 160n58, 163n76, 207, 207n16, 260n22, 265n51 Storey, Glenn R.  215n1 Strohm, Theodor  32n1, 36, 36n8, 57n63

Sullivan, Francis A.  150n10, 155n33, 158n47, 163n74, 205n8, 206n12, 208n18, 212n35 Sumney, Jerry L.  108n16 Sussman, Lewis A.  135n14 Szegdy-Maszak, Andrew  276n11 Tabbernee, William  256n5, 262–266 Taylor, Joan E.  275, 275n6, 276n12 Thackeray, Henry St.John  280n24 Thelwall, S.  248n14, 250n19 Thiessen, Matthew  22n19 Thimmes, Pamela  52n32 Thiselton, Anthony C.  223n20 Thrall, Margaret E.  108n17, 109n19, n20 Thurén, Jukka  119n11 Thurén, Lauri  117–130, 294 Thurman, Eric  21n14 Toit, André du  120n20, 122, 122n30 Towner, Philip H.  123n32, 129n60, n61, 217n8, 224n22 Trebilco, Paul R.  93, 93n10 Tullier, André  190n61, 191, 191n66, n67 Tyndale, William  32 Unnik, Wilhelm C. van  178 Van Belle, Gilbert  68n9 Ven, Jeroen M.M. van der  65n2 Versnel, Henk S.  144n78 Veyne, Paul  144, 144n78 Vidal-Naquet, Pierre  273 Voitila, Anssi  273–285, 294 Vorgrimler, Herbert  6n14, 8, 9, 9n30, 198n23, Vorster, Johannes  120n18 Vos, Dirk de  66n3 Waldner, Katarina  257n10 Wallace, Daniel B.  24n28 Wallis, R. E.  252n32 Wansink, Craig S.  200n28 Wasserberg, Günter  51n30 Weinfeld, Moshe  54n40 Welborn, Laurence L.  178n4 Wheeler, Arthur Leslie  139n40 Whitehead, Kenneth D.  98n33

Index of Modern Authors

Whiting, Robert M.  230n10 Wibbing, Siegfrid  121n20 Wichern, Johann Hinrich  8, 8n26 Wilkins, Michael J.  150n10, 161n62 Wilpert, Joseph  267, 267n56, 269n64 Wilson, E. Jan  232n19 Winn, Adam  21n16, 22n19, n21, 26n37, 28n40 Winter, Bruce  95n21 Wisse, Frederik  119n9 Wissowa, Georg  141n47 Witherington, Ben (III)  92n5, 93n5, 96, 96n26 Woodard, Roger D.  140n41

327

Worthen, Jeremy  27n38 Wright, William  227n2 Yarbro Collins, Adela  20n11, 22n20 Yonge, Charles D.  40n24 Younan, Munib  294 Young, Frances  155n36 Ysebaert, Joseph  197n19, 198n20, 201n43 Zahn, Theodor  150n9 Zerbini, Livio  147n97 Ziebritzki, Henning  14 Zollitsch, Robert  155n33 Zulehner, Paul M.  29n41