The Early Reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew: Text, Narrative and Reception History 9780567675224, 9780567675248, 9780567675231

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LIBRARY OF SECOND TEMPLE STUDIES

92 Formerly the Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Supplement Series

Editor Lester L. Grabbe

Founding Editor James H. Charlesworth

Editorial Board Randall D. Chesnutt, Philip R. Davies, Jan Willem van Henten, Judith M. Lieu, Steven Mason, James R. Mueller, Loren T. Stuckenbruck, James C. VanderKam

THE EARLY RECEPTION OF PAUL THE SECOND TEMPLE JEW

Text, Narrative and Reception History

Edited by Isaac W. Oliver and Gabriele Boccaccini with Joshua Scott

T&T CLARK Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA BLOOMSBURY, T&T CLARK and the T&T Clark logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2019 Paperback edition first published 2020 Copyright © Isaac W. Oliver, Gabriele Boccaccini with Joshua Scott, 2019 Isaac W. Oliver, Gabriele Boccaccini with Joshua Scott have asserted their rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Editors of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN: HB: 978-0-5676-7522-4 PB: 978-0-5676-9388-4 ePDF: 978-0-5676-7523-1 eBook: 978-0-5676-8432-5 Series: Library of Second Temple Studies, ISSN 2515-866X, volume 92 Typeset by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

CONTENTS Notes on Contributors

Chapter 1 INTRODUCTION Isaac W. Oliver and Gabriele Boccaccini

viii

1

Part I THE RECEPTION OF PAUL THE SECOND TEMPLE JEW IN EPHESIANS Chapter 2 THE CONSTRUCTION OF GENTILES IN THE LETTER TO THE EPHESIANS Matthew Thiessen

13

Chapter 3 “YOU WHO ONCE WERE FAR OFF HAVE BEEN BROUGHT NEAR”: THE ETHNE-IN-CHRIST ACCORDING TO EPHESIANS William S. Campbell

26

Chapter 4 EPHESIANS IN THE JEWISH POLITICAL DEBATE OF THE FIRST CENTURY: RETHINKING PAUL’S APPROACH IN FACING NEW CHALLENGES Eric Noffke

44

Part II THE RECEPTION OF PAUL THE SECOND TEMPLE JEW: THE OTHER DEUTERO-PAULINE EPISTLES Chapter 5 COLOSSIANS’S GROUNDING TRADITIONALIZATION OF PAUL Anders Klostergaard Petersen

59

Chapter 6 THE SHADOW AND THE SUBSTANCE: EARLY RECEPTION OF PAUL THE JEW IN THE LETTER TO THE COLOSSIANS James Waddell

75

vi

Contents

Chapter 7 Διδάσκαλος ἐθνῶν—PAULINE TRAJECTORIES ACCORDING TO 1 TIMOTHY Kathy Ehrensperger

88

Part III THE REJECTION OF RECEPTION OF PAUL? SEARCHING FOR PAUL’S OPPONENTS Chapter 8 JEW AGAINST JEW: THE RECEPTION OF PAUL IN MATTHEW’S CHRISTIAN-JEWISH COMMUNITY David C. Sim

107

Chapter 9 PAUL AMONG HIS ENEMIES? EXPLORING POTENTIAL PAULINE THEOLOGICAL TRAITS IN THE PSEUDO-CLEMENTINES Giovanni B. Bazzana

120

Chapter 10 JOHN OF PATMOS AND THE APOSTLE PAUL: ANTIMONY OR AFFINITY? Joel Willitts

131

Part IV THE RECEPTION OF PAUL THE SECOND TEMPLE JEW IN THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES Chapter 11 WHY SHOULD EXPERTS IGNORE ACTS IN PAULINE RESEARCH? James H. Charlesworth

151

Chapter 12 JEWISH SENSIBILITIES AND THE SEARCH FOR THE JEWISH PAUL— THE LUKAN PAUL VIEWED THROUGH JOSEPHEAN JUDAISM: INTERPLAY WITH APION 2:190–219 George P. Carras

167

Chapter 13 THE CALLING OF PAUL IN THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES Isaac W. Oliver

179

Chapter 14 LUKE’S PORTRAIT OF PAUL IN ACTS 21:17-26 David Rudolph

192

Contents

vii

Part V MARCION AND THE RECEPTION OF PAUL THE SECOND TEMPLE JEW Chapter 15 MARCION, PAUL, AND THE JEWS Judith M. Lieu

209

Chapter 16 PAUL’S PROBLEMATIC RELATION TO JUDAISM IN THE SENECA-PAUL ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE (SECOND CENTURY CE?) Ilaria L. E. Ramelli

220

Chapter 17 READING JAMES, REREADING PAUL David R. Nienhuis

236

Chapter 18 GENTILE JUDAIZING IN THE DIALOGUE WITH TRYPHO: A TEST CASE FOR JUSTIN’S RECEPTION OF PAUL Benjamin White

252

Part VI SEARCHING FOR OTHER RECEPTIONS OF PAUL THE SECOND TEMPLE JEW

Chapter 19 “AS IF BY PAUL?” SOME REMARKS ON THE TEXTUAL STRATEGY OF ANONYMITY IN HEBREWS Gabriella Gelardini

267

Chapter 20 THE SCRIPTURALIZATION OF LETTERS FROM “OUR BELOVED BROTHER” PAUL IN 2 PETER David J. Downs

287

Chapter 21 PAUL, THE GREEK OLD TESTAMENT, AND THE PROMOTION OF THE FLAVIAN ORDER IN 1 CLEMENT Harry O. Maier

301

Index of Authors Index of Texts

317 321

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS Giovanni B. Bazzana, Harvard University, USA Gabriele Boccaccini, University of Michigan, USA William S. Campbell, University of Wales, Trinity Saint David, UK George P. Carras, Washington and Lee University, USA James H. Charlesworth, Princeton Theological Seminary, USA David J. Downs, Fuller Theological Seminary, USA Kathy Ehrensperger, Abraham Geiger College, University of Potsdam, Germany Gabriella Gelardini, University of Basel, Switzerland Judith M. Lieu, University of Cambridge, UK Harry O. Maier, Vancouver School of Theology, Canada David R. Nienhuis, Seattle Pacific University, USA Eric Noffke, Waldesian School of Theology, Italy Isaac W. Oliver, Bradley University, USA Anders Klostergaard Petersen, Aarhus University, Denmark Ilaria L.E. Ramelli, Catholic University-Angelicum-Oxford-Princeton David Rudolph, The King’s University, USA David C. Sim, Australian Catholic University, Australia Matthew Thiessen, McMaster University, Canada James Waddell, Ecumenical Theological Seminary, USA Joel Willitts, North Park University, USA Benjamin White, Clemson University, USA

Chapter 1 INTRODUCTION Isaac W. Oliver and Gabriele Boccaccini

In recent years, a growing number of studies have appeared which focus on the Jewishness of Paul. The very same set of questions which were once addressed to Jesus (for instance, whether he was “Christian” or “Jewish”) are now asked about Paul. No longer seen as the first “Christian” systematic theologian, if not the creator of Christianity, Paul also is reintroduced to his Jewish context and understood within the diverse world of Second Temple Judaism.1 In June 2014, the Third Nangeroni Meeting of the Enoch Seminar, titled “Re-Reading Paul as a Second Temple Jewish Author,” was held at the Waldensian Faculty of Theology in Rome. Scholars of Second Temple Judaism and Pauline studies gathered together to discuss Paul afresh as a Jewish thinker. A select number of the proceedings from that meeting were subsequently edited by Gabriele Boccaccini and Carlos A. Segovia and published in Paul the Jew: Rereading the Apostle as a Figure of Second Temple Judaism (Fortress 2016). During the final session of the Third Nangeroni Meeting, participants discussed how the topic of Paul might be pursued in future venues sponsored by the Enoch Seminar. A number of participants voiced support for Isaac W. Oliver’s proposal of a conference that would center on the reception of Paul. More specifically, the conference would focus on the receptions of Paul during the first two centuries that related to Paul’s Jewishness as well as his views on Judaism with the hope that such an examination might enrich our understanding of the complex, diverse nature of early Christian-Jewish relations. The plan materialized two years later, when the Seventh Nangeroni Meeting, “The Early Reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew,” transpired from June 26, 2016, to June 30, 2016, in the same welcoming halls of the Waldensian School of Theology in Rome.2

1. See Eisenbaum (2009); Rudolph (2011). 2. Thanks go to our colleague Robert Foster for planting the intellectual seeds that gave genesis to the idea for this conference during numerous conversations on the reception of Paul in Acts and Ephesians.

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The Early Reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew

The Seventh Nangeroni Meeting, therefore, grew out of a previous scholarly encounter that wished to understand Paul as part and parcel of Second Temple Judaism. In this regard, the Seventh Nangeroni Meeting continued the pursuit of the Enoch Seminar to investigate what is called “early Christianity” within its Jewish contours. The conference, however, moved beyond the study of Paul proper (e.g., the so-called undisputed letters) as it sought to appreciate the reception of Paul in its own right and thus gaze at the Jewish matrix of early Christianity through the prism of reception history. As noted above, the conference focused, furthermore, on the reception of Paul the Jew. Studies on the reception of Paul abound but often without sufficient appreciation of the Jewish sources and issues that are critical for understanding the formation of early Christianity. Perhaps this is partly due to long-held assumptions about early Christian-Jewish relations. It is often assumed that the Jesus movement, for the most part, had moved on and beyond certain questions in the generations immediately following the time of Paul. Matters once deemed critical for Jewish-Christian relations, including the role and place of the Torah among followers of Jesus, were of marginal importance or simply irrelevant by the end of the first century. The relationship of the Jesus movement to its Jewish heritage and the Jewish people was no longer a burning question, as “the partings of the ways” became a fait accompli, once the pillars of the first generation of Jewish followers of Jesus, Shimon Kepha (Simon Peter), Yaakov (James) the brother of Jesus, and Yohanan (John) had passed away.3 By now, these points have been sufficiently problematized, and the time seems ripe to approach anew the reception of Paul with a clearer understanding of the Jewish framework that continued to shape the Jesus movement well after 70 CE. Indeed, the study of the reception of Paul’s legacy on early Christian-Jewish relations comes at a time when interest in reception history in general is very much in vogue. Once viewed as a secondary method of inquiry when compared to the more traditional approaches used in historical criticism (e.g., textual, source, form, and redaction criticism), reception history now boasts a vast array of publications. There are now journals, book series, an encyclopedia, and even a handbook devoted to the reception of biblical and extra-biblical literature.4 Numerous books continue to appear, including recent contributions on the reception of Paul by some of the participants of the Seventh Nangeroni Meeting.5

3. This is the case, for example, with Pervo (2010). For earlier studies on the reception of Paul, see, among others, Dassmann (1979); Lindemann (1979, 1999); Rensberger (1981); and de Boer (1980). 4. Journals include Relegere: Studies in Religion and Reception (2011–); Journal of the Bible and Its Reception (2014–). Some of the notable monograph series are Scriptural Traces: Critical Perspectives on the Reception and Influence of the Bible (T&T Clark) and Studies of the Bible and Its Reception (De Gruyter: 2009–). Finally, one finds edited volumes such as Sawyer’s Blackwell’s Companion to the Bible and Culture (2006) and even a handbook by Lieb, Mason, and Roberts (2010). 5. See White (2014); Willitts (2011).

1. Introduction

3

In the fall of 2015, a session at the Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature in Atlanta reviewed the book edited by Mark Nanos and Magnus Zetterholm, Paul within Judaism: Restoring the First-century Context to the Apostle (2015).6 The volume essentially promotes what has been dubbed, “the Radical Perspective on Paul,” or as some of its adherents prefer, “Paul within Judaism,” a perspective positing that Paul remained a Torah-observant Jew throughout his life. Some of its advocates even maintain that Paul’s gospel in some ways only directly concerned Gentiles. Once the floor was open for discussion, the question about Paul’s reception in documents such as Ephesians and the Acts of the Apostles was brought to the attention of the participants. At a session meant to deal exclusively with the Jewishness of the “historical Paul,” it was felt that such a “radical” argumentation on behalf of Paul’s Jewishness could not ignore some of the first receptions of Paul that may have perceived him otherwise. Perhaps, a study of these first receptions of Paul might provide some kind of measuring stick for assessing or at least comparing our own constructions of Paul—however objective we may imagine them to be. It is hoped, therefore, that the chapters appearing in this volume, which present the fruits of the scholarly collaboration of the Seventh Nangeroni Meeting, will enrich our discussions on such timely matters that are relevant for the study of early Judaism and Christianity in its various subfields. This volume covers a broad spectrum of ancient texts and authors: Ephesians, Colossians, 1 Timothy, the Gospel of Matthew, the Pseudo-Clementines, the Revelation of John, the Acts of the Apostles, Marcion, the pseudo-correspondence between Paul and Seneca, the Letter of James, Justin Martyr, the Letter to the Hebrews, 2 Peter, and 1 Clement. The conference had to limit itself in some way. Therefore, only texts dating from the first two centuries of the Common Era were considered. Part I opens with an investigation on the reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew in the Letter to the Ephesians. If one consensus emerged from the session devoted to this letter it was that the author of Ephesians most assuredly operates within a framework of Jewish assumptions. In his chapter, “The Construction of Gentiles in the Letter to the Ephesians,” Matthew Thiessen shows how the author of Ephesians, like many Jews of the time, divided the world into two camps: Jews and Gentiles. The writer of the letter further depicts the Gentiles in a stereotypical fashion—an ethnic form of discoursing that is also attested in Paul’s own letters. Indeed, the affinity between Ephesians’s and Paul’s epistles leads Thiessen to question whether it is not time to revisit the possibility that Paul wrote more than the seven undisputed letters. The assumption that only seven letters of Paul are genuine, as Thiessen notes pointing to Benjamin White’s recent work on the reception of Paul, relies heavily on the claims made long ago by F. C. Baur. The German intellectual certainly did not carry out his historical-critical inquiry

6. The event took place on November 21, 2015, from 9:30 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. as a joint session between the units of “Early Jewish Christian Relations” and “Paul within Judaism” (listed as S21–118 in the SBL program book).

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The Early Reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew

in a manner detached from any theological bias. Indeed, discussions during the conference often revolved on the legacy of Baur and how it has colored our understanding of Paul and the reception of his writings. In any case, Thiessen concludes that if Paul did not write Ephesians, then at least its author found Paul’s ethnic reasoning helpful to speak of the benefits made available through Christ to Gentiles qua Gentiles. In his chapter, “‘You Who Once Were Far Off Have Been Brought Near’: The Ethne-in-Christ According to Ephesians,” William S. Campbell contends that Ephesians was consciously written in the Pauline tradition, and considers Ephesus as a viable original destination of the letter, given its peculiar vocabulary, which makes sense in connection with Ephesus and its popular cult of Artemis. In Ephesians the Gentiles are described as having been brought near but not into Israel. In other words, they become joint-heirs with the Jews, but the ekklesia is not conceived as an alternative to or as replacing Israel. The author of Ephesians is mainly concerned in showing how Gentile followers of Jesus share in the inheritance of Israel in a way that strengthens their identity and not feel deprived of previous cultural attachments such as the cult of Artemis. Eric Noffke in “Ephesians in the Jewish Political Debate of the First Century: Rethinking Paul’s Approach in Facing New Challenges” situates Ephesians historically within the new circumstances that developed during the Flavian era in order to comprehend the discourse of Ephesians on interethnic unity. Ephesians had to solve problems in a new religious and political situation imposed upon Judaism as well as Jesus’s followers, not least because of the destruction of the temple. Part II explores two other Deutero-Pauline Epistles, Colossians and 1 Timothy. In “Colossians’s Grounding Traditionalization of Paul,” Anders Klostergaard Petersen deems Colossians to be an entirely Jewish text in the sense that it conceives its Christ-religion as genuine Judaism and views all other forms as false instantiations. Petersen looks at Colossians through a Weberian lens and detects a social process of traditionalization that departs from the charismatic type of authority attested in the authentic letters of Paul. Nevertheless, Colossians uses Paul as a source of authority with a concern for cultural preservation and social maintenance. “The Shadow and the Substance: Early Reception of Paul the Jew in the Letter to the Colossians” by James Waddell considers Colossians within the philosophical context of Middle Platonism. Waddell opines that the author of Colossians responded to local Jews advocating a Judaizing Platonist philosophy peculiar to the Lycus River Valley or a Platonizing Judaism observed in the synagogues of Colossae. The letter, accordingly, employs the language of a Middle Platonist form of Pythagoreanism that in the end isolated the Colossians community from Jewish observances by discounting them as mere shadows. In a certain way, Paul himself had already laid the foundation for this kind of distancing, Waddell argues, for even if Paul did not begrudge his fellows Jews for remaining Torah observant, he reoriented the church’s identity, since he did not expect Gentiles to maintain Jewish practices such as circumcision, kashrut, or the Sabbath.

1. Introduction

5

Kathy Ehrensperger’s “Διδάσκαλος ἐθνῶν—Pauline Trajectories According to 1 Timothy” is devoted exclusively to the study of one of the Pastoral Epistles, 1 Timothy. Ehrensperger examines the depiction of Paul in 1 Timothy as the διδάσκαλος ἐθνῶν, which, she contends, stands in clear succession of Paul’s selfpresentation in the undisputed letters as the ἀπόστολος ἔθνων. By remembering Paul as the διδάσκαλος ἐθνῶν, 1 Timothy can develop a number of issues that Paul addressed to the ἔθνη in Christ. Similarly to the undisputed Pauline letters, the guidance provided in 1 Timothy is clearly envisaged as rooted in Jewish traditions in as much as these are applied to ἔθνη. The advice provided, in other words, is specific rather than universally addressed to all who are in Christ. With this framework in mind, Ehrensperger discusses those passages in 1 Timothy that deal with widows. She argues that the concern for widows in 1 Timothy is seen as part of the obligation to “remember the poor” in analogy to contemporary Jewish practice based on traditional notions of social justice (‫)צדקה‬, which are applied to the ἐκκλησίαι ἐθνῶν. Reception, as we noted, may also include rejection. Part III, “The Rejection of Paul? Searching for Paul’s Opponents,” accordingly, is devoted to the investigation of those who were possibly critical of the teachings of Paul or his followers on Judaism. For some two decades now, David Sim has mounted a coherent argument that the Gospel of Matthew should be read as an anti-Pauline text. In this latest piece, “Jew against Jew: The Reception of Paul in Matthew’s Christian-Jewish Community,” Sim not only surmises and updates his previous findings on the topic but also responds to some of the arguments raised by his critics. With respect to the reception of Paul the Jew, Sim observes that it matters little whether Paul remained a Torah-observant Jew, as the Radical New Perspective on Paul now firmly argues, since both Christian Jews and nonChristian Jews perceived Paul to have broken with Jewish tradition. Sim rejects the argument that no reception of the Pauline tradition existed in the Matthean community, arguing that Paul remained a figure of contention in the late first century. Paul’s “Law-free” gospel was not well received by Matthew’s ChristianJewish audience. This negative reception of Paul can be perceived in the Gospel of Matthew itself. In his chapter, “Paul among His Enemies? Exploring Potential Pauline Theological Traits in the Pseudo-Clementines,” Giovanni B. Bazzana questions the long-held assumption that the Pseudo-Clementines contains materials opposed to Paul, maintained since F. C. Baur who neatly configured the PseudoClementine literature within his Hegelian understanding of the formation Frühkatholizismus as the synthesizing of “Jewish-Christianity” and “Gentile Christianity.” Bazzana even notes potential points of affinity between certain passages in the Pseudo-Clementines and positions on Paul now promoted by the Radical New Perspective. Chapter 10, “John of Patmos and the Apostle Paul: Antimony or Affinity?” written by Joel Willitts, revisits the question of the supposed anti-Paulinism in the Revelation of John posited already, once again, by F. C. Baur. Willits suggests that “those who say that they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan”

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(Rev. 2:9; 3:9) refers to a rival Jewish association who in the estimation of John of Patmos were too acculturated into the Roman religious, political, economic, and cultural ideology of Asia Minor. This group also caused some kind of social hostility to John of Patmos’s Jewish associations. The conflict reported in Revelation was intra-Jewish, but it seems unlikely that the polemic in Revelation is anti-Pauline. Part IV is devoted entirely to the reception of Paul in the Acts of the Apostles. There is a notable consensus among the four chapters in this part on the assuredly Jewish portrait of Paul in Acts. James H. Charlesworth opens this part with a chapter titled “Why Should Experts Ignore Acts in Pauline Research?” Charlesworth focuses on the historical relevance of Acts as a source for Pauline research while asking whether the Jewish portrait found in Paul’s letters is compromised by the author of Acts. For Charlesworth, Acts “is a mixture of pre-70 Judaism and post-70 Judaism” that should be studied in order to understand “the great Jewish mind that stands first in the line of brilliant Christian theologians.” George P. Carras in “Jewish Sensibilities and the Search for the Jewish Paul—The Lukan Paul Viewed through Josephean Judaism: Interplay with Apion 2:190–219” assesses the reception of the Jewishness of Paul in the Acts of Paul based on Josephus’s summary on the Torah in Against Apion 2. He concludes that Acts depicts Paul as a loyal Jew in ways descriptive of Jewish behavioral expectations and Torah parameters similar to those found in Josephus’s Apion. Isaac W. Oliver in “The Calling of Paul in the Acts of the Apostles” argues that Acts does not present Paul as a “convert” to “Christianity” as some New Testament scholars have maintained. The pericopes describing Paul’s journey to Damascus depict Paul as a chosen vessel that has been called to spread the gospel to the ends of the earth. This understanding fits well with the wider portrayal of Paul in Acts who remains a Torah observant Jew throughout even after he joins the Jesus movement. In his chapter, “Luke’s Portrait of Paul in Acts 21:17-26,” David Rudolph draws attention to a neglected passage that is central for appreciating the way Acts defends Paul’s enduring fidelity to Torah observance. In fact, Rudolph deems this passage to be “the most explicit statement in the New Testament that Paul remained a Torah-observant Jew after becoming a follower of Jesus.” It is representative of Luke’s attempt not only to restore an authentic image of Paul to the ekklesia but also to provide a frame of reference for how Paul’s teachings should be interpreted in relation to Jewish law and identity. Part V shifts to a radically different perspective on Paul, namely, Marcion’s reception of Paul and its impact on early Christianity. Chapter 15, “Marcion, Paul, and the Jews,” in this part is by Judith M. Lieu. It provides a useful introduction to some of the critical questions on Marcion’s views regarding Paul and Judaism. Marcion’s thought, no doubt, departs in many ways from the agenda and interests of Paul, but this is true to a certain extent for all interpretations of Paul, as Lieu points out, and should not detract from seriously considering Marcion’s unique reading of Paul. In any case, the Judaism Marcion would have primarily confronted, Lieu observes, would have been the “‘Judaism’ as he identified it in the practice and

1. Introduction

7

theology of the church.” At the same time, Lieu cautions against accepting the polemical claims of the likes of Tertullian who sought to cast Marcion as an ally of the Jews or even as a Jew. Chapters 16 through 18 in Part V consider various early Christian receptions of Paul that may have been influenced by or responding to Marcion. In Chapter 16, “Paul’s Problematic Relation to Judaism in the Seneca-Paul Original Correspondence (second century CE?),” Ilaria L. E. Ramelli looks at the SenecaPaul letters, a pseudepigraphic correspondence preserved in Latin among Seneca’s works. Ramelli identifies an original strand within this correspondence that was informed by Marcionism. In contrast to other sections of this correspondence, the original layer presents Paul’s relationship to Judaism as a source for potential problems. In addition to enriching our understanding about the reception of Paul the Jew, Ramelli shows how this correspondence has bearing on our understanding of the formation of the Pauline corpus as well. The Letter of James most likely interacted with Pauline ideas, and David Nienhuis addresses this letter’s reception of Paul in his chapter “Reading James, Re-reading Paul.” Working under the dominant scholarly position that James is a pseudepigraphon, Nienhuis highlights many of the verbal connections between James and the writings of Paul. He proposes that James was composed out of an “early second-century canon-consciousness” that included a collection of Pauline materials closely resembling the Pauline corpus we have today. From a historical point of view, the thoroughly Jewish texture of James could be explained as an attempt to counter the Marcionite problem. In any case, reading James with Marcionite Paulinism in mind certainly makes good sense of many of the themes treated in the letter. Justin Martyr certainly knew of Marcion and even wrote a now-lost treatise refuting his teachings. On the other hand, Justin never mentions Paul by name nor cites his writings. This silence has been interpreted in various ways (e.g., as unease with or embarrassment over Paul). Ben White, however, in “Gentile Judaizing in the Dialogue with Trypho: A Test Case for Justin’s Reception of Paul,” draws attention to a considerable cluster of shared words and short phrases between the Dialogue with Trypho, chapter 47 and Romans and Galatians. He posits that Justin has reworked the Pauline tradition in this pericope, siding with Paul’s opponents in Galatians, rather than with Paul, by conceding a space for Judaizing impulses among Gentile Christ believers. This concession can be explained as a response to the Marcionite threat that sought to divide Christianity entirely from Judaism. Part VI concludes with examinations of various early Christian receptions of Paul the Second Temple Jew. If the author of the Letter to the Hebrews wished for the letter to be read as a Pauline epistle, we might have before us an interesting reception of Paul as a Jewish thinker, given the particular treatment in this document of various themes related to Judaism (the sacrificial system, priesthood, etc.). Yet Gabriella Gelardini highlights some of the difficulties in viewing the Letter to the Hebrews as a pseudepigraphon in her chapter, “‘As If by Paul?’ Some Remarks on the Textual Strategy of Anonymity in Hebrews.” Gelardini considers

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The Early Reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew

instead whether the author of Hebrews might have adopted anonymity as a deliberate literary strategy. David J. Downs analyzes the ethnic construction of Christian identity in “The Scripturalization of Letters from ‘Our Beloved Brother’ Paul in 2 Peter.” More specifically, he looks at the phrasing in 2 Pet. 3:15, where “Peter” speaks of Paul as “our beloved brother Paul.” Could this designation mean that Paul was viewed in this letter as a Jewish compatriot of Peter, since both apostles were ethnically Jewish? Downs thinks that the designation of Paul as a “beloved brother” is not meant to affirm Paul’s Jewish identity. On the other hand, it does not function merely as a generic, de-ethnicized descriptor for a fellow follower of Jesus. Instead, Paul is depicted here as a member of the ἀδελφότης τῶν Χριστιανῶν. The last chapter in this volume concludes with a presentation of the reception of Paul in 1 Clement. By attending to the political rhetoric of 1 Clement, Harry O. Maier’s, “Paul, the Greek Old Testament, and the Promotion of the Flavian Order in 1 Clement,” illustrates how the letter has combined Pauline and Jewish traditions in order to promote a spirit of concord, an ideal that was being universally celebrated under the Flavian order. As a whole, the volume does not make any claim of exhaustivity here, even with regard to the first two centuries.7 Not all early Christians were interested in questions concerning Paul’s views on Judaism or Torah observance. And even early Christian texts that do deal with such themes hardly do so univocally. A “reception” of Paul the Jew need not imply an acceptance of Paul’s Jewishness. One could hardly imagine, for example, a contrast more profound between the very Jewish portrait of Paul one discovers in the Acts of the Apostles and the Marcionite Paul who champions a divinity above and beyond the God of the Jewish scriptures. So while this volume is by no means exhaustive in its coverage of the early reception(s) of Paul, it is hoped that it provides a variety of samplings that sufficiently illustrate the possibilities and problems related to the study of the reception of Paul’s Jewishness, stimulating further research on the topic. The Rome meeting was the result of the contribution of many institutions and universities who supported the participants financially. We would like to acknowledge in particular the contribution of the Michigan Center for Early Christian Studies and the Alessandro Nangeroni International Endowment. The partnership they have formed with the Department of Near Eastern Studies and the Frankel Center for Judaic Studies of the University of Michigan has secured the continuity of the project and the future of the Enoch Seminar for years to come. Participants of the Seventh Nangeroni Meeting, Rome, Italy; June 26–30, 2016 (names of contributors to this volume are marked with an asterisk): Albert I. Baumgarten (Bar Ilan University, Israel) Giovanni Bazzana (Harvard University, USA)*

7. Limiting circumstances, including time and space, did not allow for the inclusion of chapters dealing with the reception of Paul in the Gospel of Mark as well as Valentinus.

1. Introduction

9

Gabriele Boccaccini (University of Michigan, USA)* Daniel Boyarin (University of California, Berkeley, USA) William S. Campbell (University of Wales Trinity Saint David, UK)* George P. Carras (Washington and Lee University, USA)* James C. Charlesworth (Princeton Theological Seminary, USA)* Cavan W. Concannon (University of Southern California, USA) David J. Downs (Fuller Theological Seminary, USA)* Kathy Ehrensperger (Abraham Geiger College, University of Potsdam, Germany)* Robert B. Foster (Madonna University, USA) Gabriella Gelardini (University of Basel, Switzerland)* Anders Klostergaard Petersen (Aarhus University, Denmark)* Judith Lieu (Cambridge University, UK)* Harry O. Maier (Vancouver School of Theology, Canada)* Eric F. Mason (Judson University, USA) Simon Claude Mimouni (École pratique des hautes études, France) David Nienhuis (Seattle Pacific University, USA)* Eric Noffke (Waldensian School of Theology, Italy)* Isaac W. Oliver (Bradley University, USA)* Ilaria L. E. Ramelli (Catholic University of the Sacred Heart, Milan, Italy)* Yann Redalié (Waldensian School of Theology, Italy) David Rudolph (The King’s University, USA)* David Sim (Australian Catholic University, Australia)* Matthew Thiessen (McMaster University, Canada)* James Waddell (Ecumenical Theological Seminary, USA)* Benjamin White (Clemson University, USA)* Joel Willitts (North Park University, USA)* Ziony Zevit (American Jewish University, USA)

Acknowledgment We would like to thank the publisher T&T Clark and the editor in chief of the series, Lester L. Grabbe, for accepting the book for publication. It consolidated a partnership with the Enoch Seminar initiated with the publication of Interpreting 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch: International Studies (eds. Gabriele Boccaccini and Jason M Zurawski 2014) and The Seleucid and Hasmonean Periods and the Apocalyptic Worldview (eds. Lester L. Grabbe and Gabriele Boccaccini 2016). A special thanks goes also to all those who have made possible our meeting in Rome: the chair Isaac W. Oliver with the collaboration of Gabriele Boccaccini and Eric Noffke, the Waldensian School of Theology (which hosted the event), all the members of the board of directors of the Enoch Seminar, Robert Foster for his valuable input, and the secretary of the conference, Joshua Scott, for his precious work of coordination and organization.

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References Allison Jr., D. C., et al., eds (2009–), Studies of the Bible and Its Reception, Berlin: De Gruyter. Boccaccini, G., and C. A. Segovia, eds (2016), Paul the Jew: Rereading the Apostle as a Figure of Second Temple Judaism, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Boccaccini, G., and J. M. Zurawski, eds (2014), Interpreting 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch: International Studies, Library of Second Temple Studies 87; London: T&T Clark. de Boer, M. C. (1980), “Images of Paul in the Post-Apostolic Period,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 42: 359–80. Dassmann, E. (1979), Der Stacehl im Fleisch: Paulus in der frühchristlichen Literatur bis Irenaeus, Münster: Aschendorff. Durbin S., et al., eds (2011–), Relegere: Religion and Reception, Dunedin, New Zealand: Relegere Academic Press. Eisenbaum, P. (2009), Paul Was Not a Christian: The Original Message of a Misunderstood Apostle, New York: HarperOne. Grabbe, L. L., and G. Boccaccini, eds (2016), The Seleucid and Hasmonean Periods and the Apocalyptic Worldview, Library of Second Temple Studies 88, London: T&T Clark. Lieb, M., E. Mason, and J. Robert, eds (2010), The Oxford Handbook of the Reception History of the Bible, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lindemann, A. (1979), Paulus im ältesten Christentum: Das Bild des Apostels und die Rezeption der paulinischen Theologie in der frühchristlichen Literatur bis Marcion, Beiträge zur historischen Theologie 58, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Lindemann, A. (1999), Paulus, Apostel und Lehrer der Kirche: Studien zu Paulus und zum frühen Paulusverständnis, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. MacDonald, N., and C. Ocker, eds (2014–), Journal of the Bible and Its Reception, Berlin: De Gruyter. Mein, A., C. V. Camp, and M. A. Collins, eds (2013–), Scriptural Traces: Critical Perspectives on the Reception and Influence of the Bible, London: T&T Clark. Nanos, M., and M. Zetterholm, eds (2015), Paul within Judaism: Restoring the FirstCentury Context to the Apostle, Minneapolis: Fortress. Pervo, R. I. (2010), The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in Early Christianity, Minneapolis: Fortress. Rensberger, D. K. (1981), “As the Apostle Teaches: The Development of the Use of Paul’s Letters in Second-Century Christianity,” PhD diss., Yale University. Rudolph, D. J. (2011), A Jew to Jews: Jewish Contours of Pauline Flexibility in I Corinthians 9:19-23, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2/304, Tübingen: Moher Siebeck. Sawyer, J. F. A. (2006), The Blackwell Companion to the Bible and Culture, Oxford: Blackwell. White, B. L. (2014), Remembering Paul: Ancient and Modern Contests Over the Image of the Apostle, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Willits, J. (2011), “Paul and Jewish Christians in the Second Century,” in M. F. Bird and J. R. Dodson (eds.), Paul and the Second Century, Library of New Testament Studies 412, 140–67, London: T&T Clark.

Part I T HE RECEPTION OF P AUL THE S ECOND T EMPLE J EW IN E PHESIANS

Chapter 2 THE CONSTRUCTION OF GENTILES IN THE LETTER TO THE EPHESIANS Matthew Thiessen

How did the author of the letter to the Ephesians both receive and re-narrate Paul’s identity as a Jew? This question presupposes that Paul did not write Ephesians, that it is, in fact, both a reception of Paul’s thinking and a reworking of it (e.g., Gese 1997). To be sure, the majority of critical scholarship on Paul comes to this conclusion.1 It appears that Ephesians repeatedly borrows from and expands upon Colossians, a fact that numerous scholars have interpreted to mean that someone other than Paul has borrowed liberally from a letter that he believed Paul wrote and did so in order to help pass off his own thinking as being the authentic thought of Paul.2 But in his recent book, Remembering Paul, Benjamin White has noted that the identification of a corpus of seven authentic letters is historically linked to a decidedly Lutheran reading of Paul’s writings. After all, F. C. Baur argued that Paul did not write Ephesians because it contains a catholicizing element within it (1873, 2:106–7). This sort of criticism gets expanded in other writers: for instance, some claim that Paul could not possibly have written the six disputed letters attributed to him because they do not adequately stress the all-important Lutheran maxim of justification by faith. As White concludes, “The ‘real’ Paul discourse of the nineteenth century [and its commitment to seven letters] is part and parcel with the Lutheran reading of Paul” (2014: 65). The seven-letter canon, then, functions to undergird and protect a Lutheran construction of Paul. Yet many scholars now have serious qualms about the so-called Lutheran reading of Paul. Though I will not do so in this chapter, I wonder whether it is time for scholarship

1. Among recent interpreters who believe that Paul did not write Ephesians, see Sellin (2008: 57–8) and MacDonald (2000: 16). For one recent interpreter who argues that Paul did write Ephesians, see Hoehner (2002: 2–60). Hoehner (2002: 9–18) provides an exhaustive chart of scholarly positions since Edward Evanson, who in 1792 was the first to argue against Pauline authorship. 2. Baur (1873: 2:1). But see Best (1997b: 72–96).

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more broadly to revisit the possibility that Paul penned more than just the seven so-called undisputed letters. If Paul did not write Ephesians, surely it was written by a relatively early disciple of Paul who did his best to sound as much like Paul as possible and, frankly, did a pretty decent job of it.

Paul on the Gentiles Paul displays his own Jewishness most fundamentally in his construction of the world, dividing humanity into two groups: Jews and the nations/Gentiles. The term “the nations/Gentiles,” of course, is nothing more than a catch-all term meaning miscellaneous people who are not Jews. As Benjamin H. Dunning notes, in the undisputed letters, “We see clearly the struggle of someone who customarily divides the world up into Jews and Gentiles. As such, Paul is wrestling with what the Christ-event means for this binary division” (2006: 9). In fact, Ishay Rosen-Zvi and Adi Ophir argue, in contrast to the majority of Pauline interpreters, that “if there is a consistent effort in [Paul’s] letters, it is to erect ‘the dividing wall’ between Jews and non-Jews” (2015: 21).3 Thirty-eight times Paul uses the term ethnē to refer to all non-Jewish peoples. Non-Jews did not lump themselves together with a phrase that obliterated the numerous differences that existed between Parthians, Arabs, Greeks, Romans, and so on.4 This was a distinctly Jewish category, one that denied any significance to the manifold differences that existed among non-Jews. Not only did Paul’s discourse on “the Gentiles” fail to distinguish between various ethnic groups,5 it also portrayed them as categorically immoral. For example, in writing to the Gentile Thessalonians, Paul says, “For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each of you know how to take his own vessel in holiness and honor, not in the passion of desire like those Gentiles who do not know God” (1 Thess. 4:3-5).6 Similarly, in writing to Corinth, Paul describes the former status of some of his Gentile recipients as, among other things, immoral, idolaters, adulterers, thieves, greedy, drunkards, slanderers, and robbers (1 Cor. 6:9-10). And, in his letter to the Galatians, Paul relates these words to Peter: “We are by nature Jews (φύσει Ἰουδαῖοι), and not sinners from the

3. See also Rosen-Zvi and Ophir (2011) and Rosen-Zvi (2016). Ultimately, though, I do not agree with their conclusion that pre-tannaitic Jews did not work with a binary distinction of Jew/Gentile. 4. Although Gentiles soon began to do so in early Christianity (Donaldson 2013). 5. To be sure, Paul can also distinguish between different types of non-Jews, in particular, Greeks and barbarians (Rom. 1:14), but he has distinctive reasons for doing so in addressing his Roman audience (Harrison 2013). Likewise, the author of Colossians distinguishes between Greek, Jew, Scythian, and barbarian (3:11). 6. On the interpretive issue surrounding σκεῦος, see, for example, Yarbrough (1985); Bassler (1995); Konradt (2001); and Trozzo (2012).

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Gentiles” (οὐκ ἐξ ἐθνῶν ἁμαρτωλοί, Gal. 2:15). This short statement tells us much about Paul’s views on ethnicity. First, Paul’s conception of ethnicity comes to the fore: those born Jews are ontologically so (φύσει Ἰουδαῖοι)—Jewishness is a status rooted in the order of the world as God has created it.7 The same essentializing understanding presumably applies to Gentile identity. Gentiles are Gentiles by nature or by birth (φύσει). We see hints of this in Paul’s remarks that Gentiles are by nature foreskinned (ἡ ἐκ φύσεως ἀκροβυστία, Rom. 2:27) and do not by nature have the law (ἔθνη τὰ μὴ νόμον ἔχοντα φύσει, Rom. 2:14). Interpreters dispute whether φύσει here modifies what precedes it, but Stanley K. Stowers rightly notes that “adverbial modifiers normally follow the verbs or verbal nouns that they modify.” Consequently, this verse attests that, from Paul’s perspective, being uncircumcised belongs to the essential nature of gentiles but not that of Jews. In Gal 2:14, he writes of “we who are Jews by nature and not gentile sinners.” Cultures that place great emphasis on birth, as did all those in antiquity, speak as if their cultural characteristics were acquired by birth or were of their essential being. In Paul’s thought, just as a gentile was uncircumcised by nature, so also was he without the law by nature (2:14). (1994: 116)

Paul’s extended analogy in Romans 11 of the cultivated and wild olive trees, which represent Jews and Gentiles, respectively, confirms his essentialist understanding of ethnicity. In or out of the tree, Jews remain Jews—cultivated olive tree branches. And even grafted into the cultivated tree, Gentiles remain Gentiles—wild olive branches.8 Second, Paul believes that there is a connection between ethnicity and ethics: non-Jews are, presumably by nature, sinners. And Jews are not. As Pamela Eisenbaum claims, “Paul makes clear to us that the terminology of Jew and Gentile does not merely refer to one’s ethnic or cultural heritage; the terms Jew and Gentile also refer to one’s morality and one’s disposition vis-à-vis God” (2009: 6). Such ethnic stereotyping strikes most modern readers as rather distasteful, but it was the norm in the Greco-Roman world, and even someone as saintly as Paul participated in the practice.9 Many scholars read Rom. 1:18-32 as Paul’s fullest portrayal of the Gentile world. In this depiction, Paul highlights the Gentiles’ universal rejection of the Creator

7. Cf. Matlock (2012). On essentialist conceptions of ethnicity, as opposed to socially constructed conceptions of ethnicity, see Barth (1969) and Hutchinson and Smith (1996). 8. See Johnson Hodge (2004) and Thiessen (2016: 118–22). Romans 11 demonstrates, though, that even as Paul’s understanding of Jewish and Gentile identity is essentializing, it is also flexible: Israel’s God can adapt, through adoption and ingrafting, Gentile identity. On the coexistence of fixity and fluidity in ancient ethnic discourses, see Buell (2005) and Johnson Hodge (2007). 9. See Isaac (2004).

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God, despite the fact that creation itself pointed to him (1:19-21), their turn from the immortal God to the worship of idols made in the images of mortal humans and animals (vv. 22–25), and their subsequent descent into passion, desire, and immoral living (vv. 26–32). Although numerous scholars argue that Paul here indicts all of humanity, the parallels to the depiction of Gentiles in Wisdom of Solomon 13–14 suggest otherwise.10 To this point, I have briefly documented one aspect of Paul’s Jewishness: his worldview as it pertains to humanity. The world for Paul was divided into two groups: Jews and Gentiles. These two groups derive their identity through physis, nature, which for Paul meant that they were divinely ordained identities. For Paul ethnicity determined both what one worshipped and how one lived: in other words, what we would refer to with the terms ethnicity and religion, Paul would think of as one interwoven reality.11 Jews were not sinners by nature, nor were they, as a rule, idolaters. Conversely, Gentiles had abandoned the one true God and had, as a result, become deeply immoral. But how does the author of Ephesians receive and retransmit this particular aspect of Paul’s Jewishness?

Gentiles in Ephesians We do not know the ethnicity of the actual first readers of the letter to the Ephesians, but the implied readers are Gentile, since the author explicitly addresses them as such:12 “you Gentiles in the flesh” (τὰ ἔθνη ἐν σαρκί, 2:11), whom Jews referred to as “foreskin” (ἀκροβυστία). He claims that, as Paul, he has been a prisoner for Christ Jesus on behalf of “you Gentiles” (ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν τῶν ἐθνῶν), and that God has given him a commission to preach to “you [Gentiles],” in order that they might become heirs through the preaching of the gospel (3:1-8). This construction and restriction of Paul’s mission field to non-Jews fits well with what Paul says in his undisputed letters: God entrusted him with the gospel of the foreskin and sent him to the Gentiles (Gal. 2:7-8); he was given grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among the Gentiles (Rom. 1:5; 15:18); he is indebted to all Gentiles, both Greek and barbarian (Rom. 1:13-15); and he is the apostle and minister of Christ to the Gentiles (Rom. 11:13; 15:16). It also fits well with other

10. Examples of those who argue that Rom. 1:18–32 is a universal indictment include Aletti (1988) and Bell (1998). For my full argument as to why this passage refers only to Gentiles, see Thiessen (2016: 47–52). 11. As Harrill (2014: 396) notes of Ephesians, “‘Religion’ cannot justifiably be separated from ‘ethnicity’ in the letter’s ancient context.” 12. Most believe it was a Gentile readership: e.g., Dahl (1951); Best (1998: 75); and Lincoln (1990: lxxvi). In contrast, Darko (2008: 27) thinks it was a predominantly, but not exclusively, Gentile community. Scholars who conclude that the letter addressed Jewish Christ-followers include Goulder (1991) and Strelan (1996: 163–67).

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early portraits of Paul (1 Tim. 2:7; 2 Tim. 4:17, as well as non-Pauline evidence such as Acts 13:47; 1 Clem. 5.7; Acts of Paul 11.3). As White has documented, “The most dominant and unifying aspect of the early layer of the Pauline tradition appears to have been that Paul engaged in a wide and far-flung mission to the Gentiles” (2014: 102–3). The letter to the Ephesians continues this tradition about Paul, despite the growing desire to apply Paul’s message to the universal church.13 Like Paul, the author of Ephesians constructs Paul to be God’s appointed missionary to Gentiles. But how does this author use Paul’s thinking to construct Gentile identity? First, the author says to his readers, “You were dead in your trespasses (ὑμᾶς ὄντας νεκροὺς τοῖς παραπτώμασιν) and the sins in which you once walked (ἐν αἷς ποτε περιεπατήσατε),” following the pattern of this cosmos, “according to the ruler of the power of the air” (2:1-2). This brief description of his Gentile readers’ past appears to be literarily dependent upon Colossians, a letter that the author, rightly or wrongly, thought Paul wrote. The first clause comes from Col. 2:13, which states, “and you were dead in the trespasses” (καὶ ὑμᾶς νεκροὺς ὄντας [ἐν] τοῖς παραπτώμασιν).14 The second clause comes from Col. 3:7: “in which you also then walked” (ἐν οἷς καὶ ὑμεῖς περιεπατήσατέ ποτε). If the change in Eph. 2:3 from second-person plural (“you”) to first-person plural (“we”) indicates an expansion from Gentiles alone to both Gentiles and Jews, as most scholars assume, then Ephesians includes Jews in the realm of trespasses and sin in which it situates Gentiles.15 While this interpretation provides an explanation for the change in pronouns, it creates its own difficulties. How does this negative portrayal of Jews square with the letter’s implicit assumption that Jews are near to God (2:12-14)? As a reception of Paul’s thinking, how does this inclusion of Jews in the moral turpitude of Gentiles relate to Paul’s thinking, which says that Jews are both zealous for God and seeking to establish righteousness (Rom. 10:2-3)?16 How can the author claim that the apostle Paul himself fits this description?17 Does the

13. See Dahl (1962) and Mitchell (2010). 14. Ephesians omits Colossians’s καὶ τῇ ἀκροβυστίᾳ τῆς σαρκὸς ὑμῶν, replacing it with ταῖς ἁμαρτίαις. Best (1997a: 74) suggests that the author of Ephesians “has deliberately omitted it because in his mind there is a direct connection between ‘uncircumcision’ and ‘Gentiles’ as in 2.11, and he does not wish to limit 2.1 to Gentiles.” In other words, Ephesians expands the negative depiction of Gentiles in Colossians to include Jews. 15. NA27 notes that ὑμεῖς is found in a number of mss A*, D*, 81, 326, 365; lacking in F, G, L, and present in P46, A, B, D, Ψ, and so on. 16. On Paul’s portrayal of Jews who do not believe in Christ, see Novenson (2016). 17. For instance, Harrill (2014: 390 n. 31) claims that this passage “effectively constructs ‘Paul’ (‘we’) as having once shared the same sinfully ‘Gentile’ past ethnicity that the invited readers also had discarded at baptism.” In contrast, Ambrosiaster, Commentary on Ephesians 2:3 (trans. Bray, 2009): “If anyone thinks that Paul means something else when he talks about the lust of the flesh, let him realize that the apostle led a clean life, because he acted according to the righteousness of the law without any problem.” Ambrosiaster’s solution to

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author of Ephesians tear down the dividing wall between Jews and Gentile sinners that Paul himself establishes in texts such as Gal. 2:15? At first glance, it appears so. And yet, a few verses later the author rebuilds this wall even as he claims it has come down, portraying the former existence of Gentiles in Christ as being “without Christ, strangers with regard to the commonwealth of Israel, and foreigners with regard to the covenants of the promise, hopeless and godless in the world” (χωρὶς Χριστοῦ, ἀπηλλοτριωμένοι τῆς πολιτείας τοῦ Ἰσραὴλ καὶ ξένοι τῶν διαθηκῶν τῆς ἐπαγγελίας, ἐλπίδα μὴ ἔχοντες καὶ ἄθεοι ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ, 2:12-13).18 A number of parallels exist between this description of Gentiles and the benefits Jews continue to enjoy according to Paul in Rom. 9:1-4 (NRSV): “They are Israelites (Ἰσραηλῖται), and to them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants (αἱ διαθῆκαι), the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises (αἱ ἐπαγγελίαι); to them belong the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, comes the Messiah (ἐξ ὧν ὁ Χριστὸς τὸ κατὰ σάρκα).” The Gentile situation is essentially the opposite of what Israel experiences according to Paul. In this regard, then, the author of Ephesians both portrays the negative situation of the Gentiles and affirms Paul’s positive portrayal of the “Jewish situation” in Eph. 2:12-13: the verses function implicitly as “a description of Judaism as at least one Christian saw Judaism. It looks forward to the messiah, it is the community of God’s people with whom God has entered into covenants with their promise, it believes in the true God and has hope” (Best 1997a: 98).19 Eph. 2:11-12 provides evidence of the author’s reception of Paul’s positive depiction of Jews, in the very act of reversing the terms and applying them to Gentiles. Even as the author includes both Jews and Gentiles in the sphere of passions and sin, he distinguishes between them on the basis of all the covenantal benefits that God had extended to Israel alone. And yet even this is not the end of the story. Whereas Eph. 2:1-3 appears to lump both Jews and Gentiles together in profligate living, one final lengthy depiction of Gentiles again appears to fit best with Paul’s distinction between Gentile sinners and, relatively speaking, righteous Jews: You must no longer walk as the Gentiles walk in the futility of their minds (ἐν ματαιότητι τοῦ νοὸς αὐτῶν). They are darkened in their understanding (ἐσκοτω μένοι τῇ διανοίᾳ ὄντες), estranged from the life of God because of the ignorance which is in them on account of the hardness of their heart. Having become unfeeling, they have given themselves over in licentiousness to the work of every impurity in greed (ἑαυτοὺς παρέδωκαν τῇ ἀσελγείᾳ εἰς ἐργασίαν ἀκαθαρσίας πάσης ἐν πλεονεξίᾳ). (4:17-19)

this quandary is to conclude that Paul includes himself in this description because of his persecution of the Christ assemblies. 18. On Eph. 2:1-11, see Rader (1978). 19. Rese (1975) also notes these connections between Rom. 9:4 and Eph. 2:12.

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This dim portrayal of the Gentile condition prior to entering into Christ has numerous points of contact with Paul’s portrayal of Gentiles in Rom. 1:18-32. Like Paul, who claims in Rom. 1:21 that the people he portrays “became futile in their thinking” (ἐματαιώθησαν ἐν τοῖς διαλογισμοῖς αὐτῶν), the author of Ephesians depicts Gentiles as walking in the futility of their minds (ἐν ματαιότητι τοῦ νοὸς αὐτῶν). Whereas Paul claims that “their senseless heart has been darkened” (ἐσκοτίσθη ἡ ἀσύνετος αὐτῶν καρδία, Rom. 1:21), Ephesians describes Gentiles as having darkened understanding (ἐσκοτωμένοι τῇ διανοίᾳ ὄντες). Finally, Paul avers that God gave these people over, in the desires of their hearts, to impurity (παρέδωκεν αὐτοὺς ὁ θεὸς ἐν ταῖς ἐπιθυμίαις τῶν καρδιῶν αὐτῶν εἰς ἀκαθαρσίαν, Rom. 1:24), and that, as a result, they had been filled with all kinds of vices, including greed or lust (πλεονεξία, Rom. 1:29). The author of Ephesians similarly claims that Gentiles gave themselves over to every impurity, and did so in greed or lust (ἑαυτοὺς παρέδωκαν τῇ ἀσελγείᾳ εἰς ἐργασίαν ἀκαθαρσίας πάσης ἐν πλεονεξίᾳ). The density of these verbal correspondences is remarkable, and although scholars frequently note some or all of them, few actually argue that the author of Ephesians is literarily dependent upon Romans here.20 The numerous verbal similarities seem to be a textbook case of the author of Ephesians picking up language from one of Paul’s letters in order to lend greater credence to his own literary production. In fact, it looks just like the author’s use of Col. 2:13 in Eph. 2:1-3 and akin to how he takes the reverse of Rom. 9:4-5 as an account of the Gentiles. Incidentally, the author’s use of Rom. 1:18-32 to describe the Gentile world provides reception-historical support for the argument that Paul intended to portray the Gentile world in Rom. 1:18-32.21 Repeatedly, the author of Ephesians turns to Paul’s letters, or to letters that he thought Paul wrote, in order to construct Gentile identity.22 And he does so in some of the starkest of terms. Some interpreters try to absolve Ephesians of this ethnic stereotyping. For instance, indebted to James D. G. Dunn’s claims that Paul opposes Jewish ethnocentrism,23 Tet-Lim N. Yee concludes that “the author of Ephesians has set out to forge an ‘external definition’ of the identity of the Gentiles

20. For those who make note of the parallels, see Dahl (2000: 442): “The descriptions of the consequences of idolatry in Eph 4:17–19 have many features in common with Rom 1:18–32.” Best (1997a: 150): “The language and content of the picture of the outside world in 4.17–19 strongly recalls Romans 1.18–32. There is no reason to suppose that Ephesians is directly dependent at this point on Romans.” In contrast, see Jervell (1960: 289–90) and Lincoln (1990: lvii.) 21. For those scholars, such as Campbell (2014), who believe that Paul wrote Ephesians, Eph. 4:17-19 provides even stronger evidence that Paul intends to portray only the Gentile world in Rom. 1:18-32. 22. Dunning (2006: 13): “‘Ephesians’ act of interpellation has the effect of pulling the implied audience into a discourse in which the name ‘Gentile’ functions meaningfully—in this case, the discourse of Pauline theology.” 23. Most recently, Dunn (2008).

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from the perspective of typical Jews” (2005: 76).24 In other words, the author does not himself hold this view of Gentiles; rather, he merely puts forward a typical Jewish perspective of Gentiles in order to destroy it. But surely the whole point of the letter is to set up the dramatic change of circumstances that Gentiles enjoy when they enter into Christ. If the author does not hold this view of Gentiles himself, then he deprives himself of the all-important before picture that shows the dramatic benefits that come to Gentiles after they enter into Christ. The author of Ephesians is most indebted to Paul, then, precisely at the point where Paul’s Jewishness would be most insulting to non-Jews.25 Perhaps the author is a Jewish Christ-follower who intends to support his own view of the Gentile world through the authoritative words of the apostle Paul.26

The Gentile Present The author of Ephesians presents the past of his Gentile readers in dire terms: far from God and his numerous blessings, mired in sin. As Margaret Y. MacDonald concludes, the letter presents “an extremely negative view of the Gentile world” (2004: 421).27 In this regard, the author’s thinking fits within a stream of Jewish thinking that distinguished between three sets of human beings:28

24. Similarly, Yee (2005: 83): “For us the relevant question is: has the author of Ephesians distanced himself from the perspective of other Jews, looking in from outside Israel?” and (2005: 124): “vv. 11–12 contain elements which are thoroughly Jewish in character. [The author of Ephesians] has put himself in the position of the Jews, and re-presents the exclusivistic attitudes of other Jews in the hope that he may also echo what the latter had thought about the Gentile ‘other’ (vv. 11b–13a).” He also claims (2005: 127) that Eph. 2:1418 “lay bare . . . the ‘little-mindedness’ of the Jew” and that “the author has used the Jewish scripture as a tool so that he may turn the tables on the practice of Jewish ethnocentrism” (2005: 132). For Yee, then, neither Jewish Scriptures nor the author of Ephesians is guilty of ethnocentrism, only “non-canonical” Jews. 25. Likewise, Lincoln (1990: 136): the author “ascribes to Gentiles deficiencies they would not themselves have recognized.” 26. For instance, Best (1997a: 91) argues that Eph. 2:11-22 is “a discussion of the disadvantages under which Gentiles suffered as seen from the position of a Jewish Christian, assuming that Ephesians was written by such a person. The Jewishness of the author is not certain, yet even if Paul is not the author, it is still very probable.” 27. Similarly, Dahl (2000: 442): “Both the explicit statements and the absence of modifying factors contribute to the impression that Ephesians represents an excessively negative attitude toward non-Christian Gentiles.” 28. Best (1997a: 93) avers, “They had come from a sinful past described in the way many a Jewish moralist would have viewed Gentile life.”

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Israelite priests Israelite laypeople Gentiles Although the author does not talk explicitly about priests, it is clear that he works with a sharp distinction between Israel and the Gentiles. This distinction corresponds to the construction of space in Jewish thinking, something the author does mention:

Temple Courtyard of the Israelites Courtyard of the Gentiles The author alludes to this divinely constructed geography in his reference to the dividing wall between Jews and Gentiles in Eph. 2:14, a wall that the Jewish law buttressed.29 In this worldview, the Gentiles have no access to the realm of the sacred. There is, as the author states, a dividing wall set up to keep Gentiles at the appropriate distance from the realm of holy space.30 Although this exclusion may sound narrowminded to modern readers, Jews believed that God had created these barriers with the explicit intention of keeping Gentiles safe: according to Numbers, any person who approaches God in the wrong way, be that a priest, lay Israelite, or Gentile, must die.31 Formerly, for Gentiles, cultic proximity to God was never a good thing: as highly immoral and idolatrous people, they simply could not approach God safely. Consequently, according to the author, God must remedy the Gentile problem before bringing those who were far off into his presence. In Christ, the formerly impure Gentiles become holy (1:4, 18). According to Eph. 2:19, Gentiles in Christ have now become co-citizens with the holy ones.32 Being holy themselves, Gentiles not only have greater access to the sacred, but they even become sacred space: those in Christ join and grow together “into a holy temple in the Lord”

29. The evidence of the letter also undermines Yee’s claim (2005: 123) that the author of Ephesians thinks that “the boundaries between Jews and Gentiles are socially innovated rather than inherent in the original plan of God.” Similarly, Yee (2005: 151): “The purposeful and exclusive attitudes of the Jews have separated the Jews from the Gentiles and created a barrier that stood between the two ethnic groups.” For the author, God, not the supposedly exclusivist attitudes of the Jews, has constructed these boundaries. 30. Cf. the inscriptional evidence for such a dividing wall in the temple precincts in Clermont-Ganneau (1872); Bickerman (1947); and Segal (1989). 31. Cf. Milgrom (1970). 32. While it does not affect the current discussion, there is considerable debate over the identity of “the holy ones” here. Those who think “holy ones” refers to Israel include Barth (1974: 1:269–70). Those who think the phrase refers to Jewish Christ-followers include Faust (1993: 184–88); and Sellin (2008: 233). For those who take “holy ones” to refer to angelic beings, see Schlier (1957: 140–41); Mussner (1982: 89–91); and Gnilka (1971: 154).

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(εἰς ναὸν ἅγιον ἐν κυρίῳ, 2:21). They have been marked by the sacred pneuma (1:13; 4:30; cf. 5:18). Instead of being on the far side of the dividing wall, far off from the presence of God, this community of Gentiles has become the very dwelling place of the holy God, receptacles of the sacred pneuma. Such a dramatic transformation of the Gentile condition once again comports well with the authentic Paul’s thought (e.g., 1 Cor. 1:1-4; 3:10-17; 6:19-20). The very concern that led to the restriction of Gentile access to the realm of the sacred, the concern to protect humans from God’s volatile presence, is dealt with in Christ, enabling Gentiles to approach where formerly their presence would have meant certain death. The author’s construction of the Gentile past provides the necessary contrast to the manifold benefits the author believes Gentiles gain upon entrance into Christ. In the words of Dunning, “Ephesians first constitutes its audience as Gentiles, and then gives that designation meaningful significance using the language of alien status, in order to proclaim triumphantly that this status is no longer the case” (2006: 13). Entrance into the body of Christ entails redemption and the forgiveness of moral impurities associated with being Gentiles (1:7). In Christ, Gentiles receive the sacred pneuma. The author calls his Gentile readers formerly “dead in trespasses,” stressing the impure condition of their past existence. Now they are made alive and therefore purified, able to enter even into the heavenly places in Christ (1:5–6). The blood of Christ, a ritual detergent with immense purifying power, has enabled Gentiles to draw near (2:13).

Conclusion If Paul did not write Ephesians, then it provides one of our earliest pieces of evidence for the ways in which others received and appropriated Paul’s thought. At least this author found Paul’s ethnic reasoning to be helpful for explicating for his readers the benefits that come to them, as Gentiles, in Christ. In order to convey to his implied Gentile readers what these benefits are, the author must stress how dire is the Gentile problem. Some modern Christian scholars deplore what they take as a stereotypical Jewish depiction of non-Jews, one that they characterize by using words such as derogatory, particularistic, and ethnocentric. Further, they claim that Paul and other like-minded Christ-followers were able to transcend these traditional viewpoints. Yet Paul’s mission and proclamation to Gentiles is predicated upon and requires this ethnic stereotyping of non-Jews. And, claims about the breaking down of the dividing wall notwithstanding, the same goes for the author to the Ephesians.

References Aletti, J.-N. (1988), “‘Rm 1,18—3,20,’ Incohérence ou cohérence de l’argumentation paulinienne?” Biblica 69 (1): 47–62. Barth, F., ed (1969), Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: The Social Organization of Culture Difference, Boston: Little, Brown.

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Barth, M. (1974), Ephesians: Introduction, Translation, and Commentary, 2 vols., AB 34 and 34a, Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Bassler, J. M. (1995), “Skeuos: A Modest Proposal for Illuminating Paul’s Use of Metaphor in 1 Thessalonians 4:4,” in L. M. White and O. L. Yarbrough (eds.), The Social World of the First Christians: Essays in Honor of Wayne A. Meeks, 53–66, Minneapolis: Fortress. Baur, F. C. (1873), Paul the Apostle of Jesus Christ: His Life and Works, His Epistles and Teachings; A Contribution to a Critical History of Primitive Christianity, trans. A. Menzies, 2 vols., London: Williams & Norgate. Bell, R. H. (1998), No One Seeks for God: An Exegetical and Theological Study of Romans 1.18—3.20, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 106, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Best, E. (1997a), Essays on Ephesians, Edinburgh: T&T Clark. Best, E. (1997b), “Who Used Whom? The Relationship of Ephesians and Colossians,” New Testament Studies 43 (1): 72–96. Best, E. (1998), Ephesians, International Critical Commentary, Edinburgh: T&T Clark. Bickerman, E. (1947), “The Warning Inscriptions of Herod’s Temple,” Jewish Quarterly Review 37 (4): 387–405. Bray, G. L., trans. and ed (2009), Ambrosiaster: Commentaries on Galatians-Philemon, Ancient Christian Texts, Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic. Buell, D. K. (2005), Why This New Race: Ethnic Reasoning in Early Christianity, New York: Columbia University Press. Campbell, D. A. (2014), Framing Paul: An Epistolary Account, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Clermont-Ganneau, C. (1872), “Une Stèle du Temple de Jérusalem,” Revue archéologique 23: 214–34, 290–96. Dahl, N. A. (1951), “Adresse und Proömium des Epheserbriefes,” Theologische Zeitschrift 7 (4): 241–64. Dahl, N. A. (1962), “The Particularity of the Pauline Epistles as a Problem in the Ancient Church,” in W. C. van Unnik (ed.), Neotestamentica et Patristica: Eine Freundesgabe, Herrn Professor Dr. Oscar Cullmann zu seinem 60. Geburtstag überreicht, 261–71, Novum Testamentum, Supplements 6, Leiden: Brill. Dahl, N. A. (2000), Studies in Ephesians: Introductory Questions, Text- and Edition-Critical Issues, Interpretation of Texts and Themes, D. Hellholm, V. Blomkvist, and T. Fornberg (eds.), Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 131, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Darko, D. K. (2008), No Longer Living as the Gentiles: Differentiation and Shared Ethical Values in Ephesians 4.17—6.9, Library of New Testament Studies 375, London: T&T Clark. Donaldson, T. E. (2013), “‘We Gentiles’: Ethnicity and Identity in Justin’s Dialogue,” Early Christianity 4 (2): 216–41. Dunn, J. D. G. (2008), The New Perspective on Paul, rev. ed., Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Dunning, B. H. (2006), “Strangers and Aliens No Longer: Negotiating Identity and Difference in Ephesians 2,” Harvard Theological Review 99 (1): 1–16. Eisenbaum, P. (2009), Paul Was Not a Christian: The Original Message of a Misunderstood Apostle, New York: HarperOne. Faust, E. (1993), Pax Christi et Pax Caesaris: Religionsgeschichtliche, Traditionsgeschichtliche und Sozialgeschichtliche Studien zum Ephesebrief, Novum Testamentum et orbis antiquus 24, Freiburg: Universitätsverlag. Gese, M. (1997), Das Vermächtnis des Apostels: Die Rezeption der paulinischen Theologie im Epheserbrief, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2.99, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck.

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Gnilka, J. (1971), Der Epheserbrief: Auslegung, Herders theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 10, Freiburg: Herder. Goulder, M. (1991), “The Visionaries of Laodicea,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 43: 15–39. Harrill, J. A. (2014), “Ethnic Fluidity in Ephesians,” New Testament Studies 60 (3): 379–402. Harrison, J. R. (2013), “Paul’s ‘Indebtedness’ to the Barbarian (Rom 1:14) in Latin West Perspective,” Novum Testamentum 55 (4): 311–48. Hoehner, H. W. (2002), Ephesians: An Exegetical Commentary, Grand Rapids: Baker Academic. Hutchinson, J., and A. D. Smith, eds. (1996), Ethnicity, Oxford Readers, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Isaac, B. (2004), The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Jervell, J. (1960), Imago Dei: Gen 1,26f. im Spätjudentum, in der Gnosis und in den paulinischen Briefen, Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 76, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Johnson Hodge, C. (2004), “Olive Trees and Ethnicities: Judeans and Gentiles in Rom. 11:17–24,” in J. Zangenburg and M. Labahn (eds.), Christians as a Religious Minority in a Multicultural City: Modes of Interaction and Identity Formation in Early Imperial Rome, 77–89, Journal for the Study of the New Testament, Supplement Series 243, London: T&T Clark. Johnson Hodge, C. (2007), If Sons, Then Heirs: A Study of Kinship and Ethnicity in the Letters of Paul, New York: Oxford University Press. Konradt, M. (2001), “Εἰδέναι ἕκαστον ὑμῶν τὸ ἑαυτοῦ σκεῦος κτᾶσθαι … Zu Paulus’ sexualethischer Weisung in 1 Thess 4,4f,” Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 92 (1–2): 128–35. Lincoln, A. T. (1990), Ephesians, Word Biblical Commentary 42, Dallas: Word. MacDonald, M. Y. (2000), Colossians and Ephesians, Sacra pagina 17, Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press. MacDonald, M. Y. (2004), “The Politics of Identity in Ephesians,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 26 (4): 419–44. Matlock, R. B. (2012), “‘Jews by Nature’: Paul, Ethnicity, and Galatians,” in Duncan Burns and J. W. Rogerson (eds.), Far From Minimal: Celebrating the Work and Influence of Philip R. Davies, 304–15, Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies 484, London: T&T Clark. Milgrom, J. (1970), Studies in Levitical Terminology, I: The Encroacher and the Levite. The Term ‘Aboda, Berkeley : University of California Press. Mitchell, M. M. (2010), “The Continuing Problem of Particularity and Universality within the corpus Paulinum: Chrysostom on Romans 16:3,” Studia theological 64 (2): 121–37. Mussner, F. (1982), Der Brief an die Epheser, Ökumenischer Taschenbuch-Kommentar 10, Gütersloh: Gerd Mohn. Novenson, M. V. (2016), “The Self-Styled Jew of Romans 2 and the Actual Jews of Romans 9–11,” in R. Rodríguez and M. Thiessen (eds.), The So-Called Jew in Paul’s Letter to the Romans, 133–62, Minneapolis: Fortress. Rader, W. (1978), The Church and Racial Hostility: A History of Interpretation of Ephesians 2:11–22, Beiträge zur Geschichte der biblischen Exegese 20, Tübingen: Mohr. Rese, M. (1975), “Die Vorzüge Israels in Röm. 9,4f und Eph. 2,12: Exegetische Anmerkungen zum Thema Kirche und Israel,” Theologische Zeitschrift 31 (4): 211–22.

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Rosen-Zvi, I. (2016), “What if We Got Rid of the Goy? Rereading Ancient Jewish Distinctions,” Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Period 47 (2): 1–34. Rosen-Zvi, I., and A. Ophir (2011), “Goy: Toward a Genealogy,” Dine Israel 29: 69–122. Rosen-Zvi, I., and A. Ophir (2015), “Paul and the Invention of the Gentiles,” Jewish Quarterly Review 105 (1): 1–41. Schlier, H. (1957), Der Brief an die Epheser: Ein Kommentar, Düsseldorf: Patmos. Segal, P. (1989), “The Penalty of the Warning Inscription from the Temple in Jerusalem,” Israel Exploration Journal 39 (1–2): 79–84. Sellin, G. (2008), Der Brief an die Epheser, Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament 8, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Stowers, S. K. (1994), A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles, New Haven: Yale University Press. Strelan, R. (1996), Paul, Artemis, and the Jews in Ephesus, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 80, Berlin: de Gruyter. Thiessen, M. (2016), Paul and the Gentile Problem, New York: Oxford University Press. Trozzo, L. M. (2012), “Thessalonian Women: The Key to the 4:4 Conundrum,” Perspectives in Religious Studies 39 (1): 39–52. White, B. (2014), Remembering Paul: Ancient and Modern Contests over the Image of the Apostle, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Yarbrough, O. L. (1985), Not Like the Gentiles: Marriage Rules in the Letters of Paul, Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 80, Atlanta: Scholars. Yee, T. -L. N. (2005), Jews, Gentiles and Ethnic Reconciliation: Paul’s Jewish Identity and Ephesians, Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series 130, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Chapter 3 “YOU WHO ONCE WERE FAR OFF HAVE BEEN BROUGHT NEAR”: THE ETHNE-IN-CHRIST ACCORDING TO EPHESIANS William S. Campbell

Paul is remembered primarily as the apostle to the Gentiles, the steward of the mystery long hidden but now revealed, notably how the Gentiles are fellow-heirs, members of the same body, and partakers of the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel (3:1-6). I view Ephesians as consciously written in the Pauline tradition, as summarizing some of the central insights of the apostle but with new developments related to a differing context at a later period probably sometime after 90 CE up to the rule of Nerva.

Ephesus as the Destination There are disputes about Ephesians’s authorship and destination emanating partly from a posited connection with Colossians.1 One of the reasons why Ephesians is not considered Pauline is its very distinct vocabulary and style; when this is compared with Colossians there is quite a differing use of vocabulary on central themes such as building imagery, frequent in Ephesians,2 and with some parallels in 1 Cor. 3:9-17, but almost entirely lacking in Colossians.3 Significantly, it can

1. As, for example, Lincoln (1990: xlvii–lviii). We note that Lincoln claims, “The way in which the other Pauline letters are employed in Ephesians suggests that the writer knew them so well that, although Colossians is his primary model and source, he was able to draw on their wording and ideas .  .  . and to weave this material creatively into his own interpretation of the Pauline gospel” (lviii). 2. Eph. 2:20-22 includes the terms θεμελίος (foundation), ἀκρογωνιαίος (cornerstone), οἰκοδομή (building), ναός (temple), and κατοικητήριον (dwelling place), along with the verbs οἰκοδομέω (build on) and συνοικοδομέω (build together). 3. As Lincoln (1990) notes, “The frequent piling up of synonyms, the genitival combinations, the long sentences, the repetition of certain phrases, and the lack of

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be shown that there is actually an excellent fit between the stranger terms used in Ephesians and the inscriptions found at Ephesus.4 This can provide the basis for a more substantial argument for a real connection of the content of the letter with Ephesus itself. If Paul wrote Ephesians, he should have known more about the context there, but whether or not he was the author, based on the striking similarity of the vocabulary with inscriptions it can be demonstrated that the specific vocabulary of the letter would resonate with the population of Ephesus, making it a viable destination. Also despite the doubts about being addressed to Ephesus, no other address is found in any manuscript, apart from Tertullian’s report that Marcion equated it with the letter to the Laodiceans.5 There is no doubt that it has a connection with ἐκκλήσιαι in the area around the huge city of Ephesus, and thus its addressees would be particularly familiar with the Artemis cult, festivals, and the like, in the region. In this letter, Christ is presented as the name above every name—the letter sets out to sing the praises of Christ the savior who is now seated at God’s right hand, the highest place of honor (1:20-23). The use of κοσμοκράτορ, in 6:12, reflects the claim that Artemis rules over the cosmos rather than Christ. Also in 2:20-22, there may be a parallel with the ongoing construction of the Artemis temple, in that here believers are built into a dwelling place of God in the Spirit, Christ himself being the ἀκρογωνιαίος.6 It seems that if Artemis is praised as the greatest, and every superlative is used in her honor,7 the author of Ephesians is determined to so present Christ that he outstrips her glory with his superlatives at every point. The attraction of Artemis is obviously powerful. Otherwise, there would not have been such a pressing need to present Christ as the greatest to those who were already his followers. Though Artemis is not mentioned by name, the parallels in language and the claims made for Christ so parallel those made in connection with the

conjunctions and particles are striking even in comparison with Colossians,” (emphasis mine). 4. See Immendörfer (2017). Most of the inscriptions are available digitally from the Packard Institute, www.packhum.org. 5. There may be a parallel with Romans in which the address to Rome was later omitted to give the letter a wider relevance to the whole ἐκκλήσια. Thus, this letter was probably sent to Ephesus, and possibly also as a circular to ἐκκλήσιαι such as Laodicea and /or Hierapolis. 6. The term ἀκρογωνιαίος is found elsewhere only in 1 Pet. 2:6, and in the LXX as hapax legomenon in Isa. 28:16. The traditional interpretation assumes a reference to Isaiah, and since it also occurs in close proximity to θεμέλιος, this seems the best opinion with Christ then being viewed as the cornerstone which can be the standardizing factor also for the entire building. Following T. Sol. 22:7–23:3, which depicts the completion of the temple of Solomon, Jeremias (1942) interpreted ἀκρογωνιαίος as the capstone of the building, which was inserted above the portal, joining the building together and thus completing it (Cf. also Kreitzer 2008b: 130–31). 7. Acts 19 indicates this devotion in the cry, “great is Artemis of the Ephesians” (v. 28), “the city of the Ephesians is temple-keeper of the great Artemis” (v. 35).

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goddess that the contrasts could not be clearer. This indicates to me that there was a power struggle going on in Ephesus and that the (new) Christ-followers are in the center of this, particularly with respect to their identity formation. They are no longer to live as νήπιοι in Christ, pulled in differing directions by conflicting ideologies or new forms of teaching (παντὶ ἀνέμῳ τῆς διδασκαλί ας), but are to grow up into Christ, as in the fabric of a new building (4:13-15). Not only that, their security which must have been severely threatened, if they ceased to participate in the Artemis cult, is guaranteed in that they have also been raised up to sit with Christ (2:4-6) so that they are safe from the flaming arrows of the evil one (6:16), probably Artemis, whose main weapon was arrows.8 Since Artemis was characterized as a dangerous power who would take revenge on those who offended her, protection from her power would have been essential. Christfollowers who are wavering in their loyalty to the movement need building up in the faith with a corresponding detachment from their traditional devotion to cults such as that of Artemis. The peculiarity of the vocabulary of Ephesians seems best to be explained by a connection with Ephesus and the popular cult of Artemis centered there. This helps explain why Christ was so presented, particularly in his opposition to, and victory achieved over all other powers (1:21). It is not Artemis who protects from all these dangerous powers, whether ἀρχή, ἐξουσία, δύναμις, κυριότης, but Christ.

The Addressees Two groups are clearly denoted in 1:11-14, “In him, we who first hoped in Christ,” and “in him you also, who have heard the word of truth . . .” Why the clear enunciation of a difference between two groups of Christ-followers? It seems exaggerated to stress the time lapse between the time of the “hoping in Christ” of the first group and that of the second group’s trusting in him if the differentiating factor is purely temporal. Τοὺς προηλπικότας suggests rather a specific designation such as that reflected in Paul’s phrase “to the Jew first and also to the Greek” (Rom. 2:9-10). This possibility is strengthened in that the first group, the “we” in which the author situates himself, is described as ἐκληρώθη μεν προορισθέντες. Thus the first-person form of address operates in 1:11-12, but in 1:13 changes abruptly to the second-person plural. This is paralleled in 2:11-13, where the address is in the second person, but in 2:14 this changes to the first person; this is an inclusive “we” in that two groups are obviously in view, the “you” and the “us” of the previous discussion. It is not simply that the author,

8. In the New Testament, the term βέλη (6:16) is unique to Ephesians, and a recently discovered inscription from the paving at the Gate of Hadrian depicts the goddess as “Artemis with the golden quiver,” the “shooter of arrows,” carrying “flame-bearing torches” either to protect against enemies or as punishment Knibbe et al. (1993).

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a Jewish Christ-follower, includes himself alongside the Gentile addressees, but his group is described as chosen in accordance with a divine plan, ἐκληρώθημεν προορισθέντες. This designation is not simply repeated but the description of the second group, the addressees, differs considerably, in that they, having heard “the word of truth,” “the gospel of salvation,” and having “trusted (πιστευσάντες) in him,” were sealed with the “promised Holy Spirit” (1:13). I find it hard to imagine that the author describes two groups of Christ-followers in such differing language simply to avoid repetition, especially if his intention is to seek unity between them.9 Should he not stress commonality and perhaps place both of them within an overarching identity as Philip Esler proposed Paul did in the case of two differing groups of Christ-followers at Rome (2003: 140)? Admittedly, it is not that two hostile groups are clearly posited among the Ephesian addressees, but rather that those non-Jews addressed are urged to maintain unity with another Jewish entity represented by the author. There was indeed a substantial Jewish minority in Ephesus who may even have had rights of citizenship (cf. Muddiman 2001: 120), but the author does not speak explicitly of hostility between differing ethnic groups. It seems it is not only the case that the circumcised differentiate themselves from the uncircumcised, but rather that this differentiation continues within the Christ movement, as in the mind of this author, even in a letter encouraging oneness. Having heard of their faith, the author writes to the addressees that they may know what is the hope to which they have been called. This is further elaborated as “what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe” (1:18b-19a). Then in 2:19, he tells them they are no longer ξένοι and πάροικοι but συμπολῖται τῶν ἁγίων, that is, fellow citizens with the saints and members of the οἰκία of God. They are indeed now members of the household of God, yet only as fellow citizens with another group; are these the other branch of the olive tree of Romans 11 with whom the Ephesians are now fellow citizens? Indeed, “we who first hoped in Christ” most readily refers to Jewish Christfollowers and not merely to those who were the first followers from the nations? Larry Kreitzer thinks it relates to two congregations in the Hierapolis area, with Hierapolis being the daughter ἐκκλησία of either Colossae or Laodicea,10 but I think that the option of Jewish Christ-followers makes better sense of the argument, particularly in view of such texts as 3:6 where the one with whom those from the nations are now joint-heirs can only be Jews. This is certainly not merely a weak generalization since the repetition of the συν- terminology, a characteristic

9. The language suggests two groups of recipients, the “saints” and “the faithful” Best (1997: 13). 10. Kreitzer’s work is very illuminating particularly on the context of the region around Ephesus, and he offers fresh insight into certain texts such as 2:20 and 4:8-10 (2008a: 14).

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of this author,11 underlines and emphasizes the joint aspect of the inheritance which Gentiles share with those who first hoped in the Christ.12 If we take this as referring to temporal priority, it might mean that the Gentiles were grafted on a Jewish stem, inherit Jewish promises and a symbolic universe but do not necessarily have any theological or social connections with Jews in Christ. This is definitely not the impression gained from a reading of Ephesians. I think it is clear that one or more Gentile ἐκκλησίαι is being addressed; it is noteworthy that “the saints” keeps appearing in the text: “I have heard of your love towards all the saints”(1:15); “what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints” (1:18); (cf. similarities in 2:19, 3:18, 4:12, 5:3, 6:18).13 The probability is that “with all the saints” has to be inclusive of all Christfollowers, both Jewish and non-Jewish, and not limited only to the context of these addressees. In 2:19, Gentile addressees are informed that they are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God; are these two phrases in apposition to one another, or do they tell us two differing items of information? It seems clear that “fellow citizens with the saints” must indicate sharing the inheritance with Jewish Christ-followers, not merely with other ethnically undefined people, and that not only with reference to what happened in the past, that is, the events when the gospel was first opened up to include non-Jews, but has also an ongoing and contemporary significance indicating that the relationship with Jewish Christ-followers is still deemed significant and practicable. The references to “all the saints” must mean that the author of Ephesians thinks it essential that Gentile Christ-followers recognize that as participants in the ἐκκλησία they are related to all those in Christ in every place, and must live in recognition of that relation.

11. The great abundance of συν compounds is a unique feature of Ephesians, cf. 2:6, 21; 3:6; 4:16; 5:7-11. For Christ-followers, it is together with Christ that they are made alive. They “are fellow citizens (συμπολῖται) with the saints” (2:19), joint-heirs, joint-members of the same body, and joint-partakers of the promise (3:6) Negative use of συν- constructions in 5:7-11 functions as the opposite of the positive use of συγκοινωνός in Rom. 11:17, indicating in my view that it is groups of people who are being addressed rather than individuals, cf. Campbell (2013: 127–45, 142–43). The stress on unity taken along with the frequency of συν compounds must be taken into account in determining the aim of the author in relation to the addressees and their contemporary context. 12. The term κληρονομία occurs three times in Ephesians (1:14, 18; 5:5), and the verb κληρόω in 1:11 is a hapax legomenon in the NT. The rare formation συγκληρονόμος (3:6) is found elsewhere only in Rom. 8:17, Heb. 11:9, and 1 Pet. 3:7. The inheritance of Israel, which those from the nations share through Christ, is clearly a theme in Ephesians that must be given due attention. 13. I postulate that the term ἅγιοι initially referred to the first Jewish Christ-followers, and by extension was later widened to include all Christ-followers, but could still carry some nuance of its early history, cf. Campbell (2013: 140).

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The Ephesian Author’s Attitude to Israel From 2:11–3:2, the addressees are clearly designated as Gentiles: “You gentiles by birth, called the uncircumcised by those who are called the circumcised, who once were far off but have now been brought near.” It is interesting, perhaps puzzling, why the author does not himself give the reference simply to Jews and non-Jews, rather than reporting that this is how they are designated by others. It must have some significance, especially the reference to circumcision made in the flesh by hands (2:11; cf. Acts 19:26). Obviously, the author distances himself somewhat from those giving these designations, possibly indicating Jews who were not part of the Christ movement. But too much must not be made of this. If the author is Jewish himself, he may simply be reporting the names his fellow Jews use to describe these, but as a device to introduce the perceived status of those from the nations from a Jewish perspective. How else should he have introduced this Jewish covenantal perspective when writing to fellow Christ-followers? We must not deduce from such a reference purported evidence of this author’s tendency or aim to distance his addressees from Judaism. I note this to highlight what I see as a pattern among interpreters to import into Ephesians a critique of Judaism based on this letter’s obvious coherence with perceived dominant strands of Pauline thought. At best, this is somewhat anachronistic. The description of the Gentile addressees prior to following Christ is indeed depicted from a Jewish perspective. This is not merely because the author locates himself as a Jew, but rather because this view of non-Jews is from the perspective not so much of what they are, but of what they are lacking. From a covenantal perspective, non-Jews are alienated from the πολίτεια—commonwealth of Israel—and have no access (ξένοι-strangers) to the covenants of promise. From a Jewish perspective, they were once far from God, but now through Christ have been brought near (2:11-14). The designation “gentiles in the flesh” (2:11a) is from a Jewish covenantal perspective that recognizes both fleshly descent and promise14 with no intended denigration of flesh as such.15 Gentiles, as Gentiles, in the eyes of devout Jews are simply lacking in this respect, and are outside the sphere of the elect of God, beyond the orbit of the covenant which God made with his chosen people (cf. Yee 2005: 82). It is possible—though I disagree with such a reading—to interpret this depiction of those from the nations from a Jewish perspective as an attempt to reinforce

14. Tet-Lim N. Yee (2005: 71–72) follows J. D. G. Dunn (see, for example, Dunn 1998: 346-54) in accusing (some) Jews of covenantal ethnocentricity. Yee claims anachronistically that “the author looks forward to propose a non-ethnic religion, one with no ethnic ties whatsoever. Human groups of different ethnic backgrounds (i.e., Jews and Gentiles) could then gather around a common religious belief ” (2005: 102). 15. The covenant involved the flesh; God established the covenant in his (Abraham’s) flesh, according to Sir. 44:20. The presence or absence of the foreskin was evidence of covenantal affiliation in Jewish relations with non-Jews, and as such, became the focus of prejudicial comment from both groups, as Joel Marcus (1989) has demonstrated.

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ethnic difference and distancing. Thus, Yee maintains that the designation of the Gentiles in 2:11a reveals from a Jewish perspective the “have-not” of the Gentiles in order to reinforce the boundary between the elect and the non-elect (2005: 75–76). The author of Ephesians is seen as providing an ethnographic description for non-Jews translated into the terms of the knowledge shared by Jews, and “the uncircumcision” functions as a Jewish description of the ethnic “other,” a Jewish representation of the Gentiles. According to this view, “the author’s informative intention is to remind his addressees that from the perspective of the Jews they as Gentiles lay outside the orbit of God’s elect and the covenant which God made with Israel” (2005: 83). Like a landmark in space, the Gentiles are allocated a position in a Jewish “world” or system (2005: 75–76, 87). But, in my opinion, there is no reinforcing of ethnic boundaries here. Rather, it is to demonstrate to the Gentiles how great would be the transition required to cross the boundary between those in the covenant and those outside, helping non-Jews to understand themselves in light of the designation or external definition given to them by Jews (but also by implication, indirectly to discern how Jews regarded themselves!). The author of Ephesians can highlight the ethnic boundary because in Christ new options have been opened up, not to remove ethnic difference, but for reconciliation despite abiding difference. But Yee is correct to note that the difference between Jews and Gentiles “becomes acute simply because they both constitute part of a singular system—the symbolic world of the Jews,” and that “the act and fact of circumcision were indeed integral to the identity of Jews.”16 Thus, it is legitimate to argue that the Ephesian author’s discussion of the status of non-Jews is an “other-directed” naming process of external definition (cf. 2005: 72–78), it all takes place from the Jewish perspective, following a well-established motif in Jewish theology, the integration of election with the universalism of monotheism (2005: 75–76). But the mere fact of engaging in this process of naming, seemingly significant in Ephesians, even if it is narrated as how those addressed are reportedly named by others, that is, “called the uncircumcision,” is indicative that identity construction of some kind is currently in process. My own view here is that, to some extent it is inevitable, because of the covenantal priority of Israel—“to the Jew first” that Gentiles are defined externally. Because of the covenant, their categorization must be from the Jewish perspective.17

16. Cf. 2005: 77, 83. Yee rightly insists that “the author perceived the status of the gentiles as still being defined in relation to Israel” (2005: 87). But differentiation in itself is not a problem, the issue is only whether it is valid or not. Yee is negative here partly because he views categorization in terms of power: “From a sociological perspective, the capacity to impose one’s definition upon other people implies, most probably, that one possesses sufficient power and authority to do so” (2005: 87, n. 53, citing Jenkins 1997: 80). 17. It is to be noted that according to Eph. 2:12, Gentiles are not said to share in the covenantal promises with Israel, but are only co-sharers “in the promise in Christ Jesus through the Gospel” (3:6); cf. Shkul (2009: 154, n. 27).

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It can be argued with some confidence that the author exaggerates the distance between Jew and Gentile, not to reinforce this, but rather to demonstrate how great is the work and power of Christ who through Paul his apostle has revealed the great mystery that these Gentiles who were far off have now been brought near. Thus, like Paul he affirms and now actually accentuates the “then-now” division—ποτέ, then, 2:11, τῷ καιρῷ ἐκεινῷ, at that time, 2:12, νυνὶ δέ, but now, 2:13—contrasting “before faith came” and “now in Christ Jesus.” This emphasis functions as a reminder of prior existence under the power of sin, and how one should relate to its continuing influence now in everyday life. It becomes clear that the function of stressing the then/now dimension is to distance the Gentiles from the attraction of their previous life patterns and to incorporate them into a Jewish symbolic universe, but not to encourage them to regard themselves as Jews. There is no fear of Gentile Judaizing in the letter, but possibly the opposite—the Gentiles are too comfortable in their pagan environment. As Dahl points out, “In comparison with nearly contemporary writings, Ephesians contains no expression of anti-Jewish sentiments” (1986: 31–39). There is only one reference to the law at 2:15, and that not to the law per se or as a whole but only to one aspect of the law in relation to the work of Christ. As Larry Kreitzer notes, “For the writer of the letter to the Ephesians, the bitter controversy between Jews and Christians is a matter belonging to a previous generation. In Ephesians what we have are echoes of that controversy” (2008b: 125, n. 43). We have mentioned these items to offer reasons why we should not operate here with too much hermeneutical suspicion. We must not drag in again the polemics of Paul’s time, and presume that such were bound to continue unabated. Since there is a neutral reference to Israel and no explicit criticism of Jews and Judaism, and since the author obviously operates with an intention to develop in his addressees a respect and positive appreciation for Israel, it seems unwarranted to posit that he simultaneously offers implied criticism of these. This is where the presuppositions of the interpreter so easily intrude into the understanding of the text.18 Both here and in the Pastorals, not to mention 2 Corinthians, the law-gospel antithesis is not explicit in the text.19 My presupposition in this regard is simply this: the author’s avowed intention is to inculcate in his addressees a positive attitude to Israel, to develop an appreciation of what those from the nations derive from sharing as Gentiles and

18. Shkul, though she offers a sophisticated and methodologically, well-informed reading of the letter, nevertheless tends to view the representation of Paul, and the selective memories this involves, as necessarily indicating that the writer’s ideal is of “a distinctive community ideologically separated both from Jewishness and the Greco-Roman environment” (2009: 158, n. 34). 19. The issue of Jews and Gentiles, while still salient, is not the same burning issue it was in Paul’s day; an author’s statements must differ from their reception (Best 1998: 87–101). Even in 2 Corinthians, one must be careful not to import anti-legalistic arguments into the text where these are not explicitly evidenced (cf. Campbell 2016: 136–37).

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through Christ, in the promises of Israel. There is no expression of anti-Judaism in Ephesians, and the enemies are the powers of this age, the idolatrous worship of the emperor/Artemis, with whom Christ is clearly contrasted. The author bows to God, not Caesar, to one God and Father of us all (4:4-6), from whom every fatherland—πατριά—in heaven and earth is named. Overall, Ephesians shows a strong political awareness, and it could be a real possibility that the failure to mention Jews may have something to do with the contextual situation in the last decade of the first century when the situation of Jews fluctuated in varying political climates as, for example, in relation to the fiscus Judaicus (Macdonald 2005: 422). It would be less convincing to argue that the author wishes to encourage nonJews to acknowledge the inheritance in Christ that emanates from Israel, and yet at the same time to distance themselves from Israel. Ephesians may offer in rudimentary form some of the basic elements of what would become an emerging constitution of a separate movement, as it develops ideological resources for distancing without the explicit condemnation of the Jews, but in my view (contra Shkul 2009: 172), such was far from the expressed intention of its author. The author’s stance was determined by immediate and local contexts rather than by long-term goals even though he creates the image of the universal ἐκκ λησία.

How the Two Become One New Ἄνθρωπος One “New Person” in Christ? As we begin the discussion of this central issue in Ephesians, a warning is in order. We draw attention to the tendency to find in Ephesians what scholars have already determined is the thought patterns of Paul discerned in his letters, and in this, I am no exception. This is particularly evident in questions of identity. It is often assumed that when the author of Ephesians writes of the two becoming one new ἄνθρωπος, that here we have further proof that Paul promoted an identity of sameness in Christ, replacing previous Jewish identity or identity from the nations.20 Thus, Andrew Lincoln (1990: 144) argues very specifically that Christ has done more than simply to bring gentiles into Israel’s election. The “new person” he has created transcends those categories. In its newness, it is not merely an amalgam of the old in which the best of Judaism and the best of Gentile aspirations have been combined. The two elements which were used in the creation have become totally transformed in the process. This is “the third race” which is different from both Jews and gentiles.

20. As Ehrensperger has noted also in relation to the Animal Apocalypse (2016: 183–216).

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Here we have one version of how those from the nations become part of the elect, they do this by leaving behind their previous identity as those from the nations,21 and become another new entity that is also not historic Israel, but a “new creation.” Our question must be—is this really what the author of Ephesians intended to state? The answer will certainly be in the negative, since transformation implies the renewal rather than the obliteration of that which is transformed. We start by noting that the election of those from the nations is, as Barth famously praised the Barmen Confession for uncovering, “in Christ before the foundation of the world” (1:4). The writer is explicitly locating the Gentiles’ destiny in a plan of God in which Christ is central by the will of God, κατὰ τὴν εὐδοκίαν τοῦ θελήματος αὐτοῦ (1:6). Similarly, in 1:1, Paul is an apostle διὰ θελήματος αὐτοῦ and in 1:5, we have a repetition, “He destined us in love for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will.” Again in 1:9-10, it is stressed that he has made known to us the mystery of his will (θελήματος) and the purpose (εὐδοκίαν) that he set forth in Christ, 1:10 as a plan (οἰκονομίαν) for the fullness of time to unite all things in him, both in heaven and on earth. The author’s glorious eulogy concerns Christ as the executor of God’s plan, and Paul the apostle to the nations as the revealer of this mysterious plan that until recently has been hidden. Such election terminology must have the intention of confirming and strengthening the faith of the Christ-followers in the ἐκκλησίαι in the Ephesus area. But does it have any social implications for the relation of Christ-following Jews and non-Jews? My view is that it certainly has, and it can be demonstrated despite the fact that there is no explicit reference to Jewish assemblies. As we have noted in 1:12-13, we have a tantalizing reference to two groups of people, “we who first hoped in Christ” and “in him you also . . . have believed.” It would be easy to take these as indicating merely the prior exercise of faith by Jewish Christfollowers compared with that of those from the nations who were later to respond in the Christ movement.22 But taking into account the content of the entire letter and its emphasis on joint growth together, which in 3:6 can only refer to Jews and Gentiles, respectively, the temporal aspect is necessarily to be complemented by the ethnic dimension. To omit the latter would leave major emphases, such as peace, unaccounted for.23

21. This is where translating ἔθνη as “nations” is more appropriate than as “Gentiles.” Although it is clear that the term “Gentiles” represents the non-Israelite peoples as peoples, in our modern thinking, it can too easily be considered as indicating individuals, rather than corporate groups for whom an identity switch is less easy to imagine. 22. Does the author write as consciously representing a Jewish assembly? (cf. Treblico 1991). The seven ἐκκλησίαι of Revelation give further evidence of interaction since here we have a reference to “those who claim to be Jews and are not,” but are still labeled as a “synagogue of Satan” (Rev. 2:9). Acts 19:34 evidences a synagogue in Ephesus, some success by Paul, and hostility between Artemis worshippers and Jews. 23. For another solution, see Kreitzer (2008b: 1–28).

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The author’s major christological thesis is that God’s purpose is to unite all things in Christ, and that he has put all things under his control, making him head over all things for the sake of the ἐκκλησία. The formulation of the doctrine of the universal ἐκκλησία is to be credited to the author of Ephesians, but is this necessarily an anti-Jewish perception or would this author have perceived it as such? My view is that he takes for granted the election of Israel and sees his function as providing those from the nations with a place in God’s purpose by means of a foundation in Christ alongside Jewish Christ-followers (and possibly other Jews, though again this is not the author’s primary purpose).24 If Christ, as the perceived “messenger of peace” of Isa. 52:7, is celebrated as bringing peace between Jew and non-Jew, why then should the author inform the non-Jewish Christ-followers concerning this? It could be viewed merely as historical or “heilsgeschichtlich” knowledge (1:17), which should be a necessary constituent of what it means to be a Gentile in Christ (cf. Fowl 2007), but I consider it to have more immediate significance than this would suggest. The implied relevance of Christ’s work for two ethnic groups is neatly described as having “proclaimed peace to those who were far off and to those who were near.” The immediate resonance for Jews at this time probably would have been the transition of non-Jews to proselyte status. But we have an example elsewhere where Paul in Rom. 9:25-26 uses scriptural passages referring to the northern Israelites as a “non-people” to refer also by analogy to Gentiles. As another non-people the scripture applies also to them (cf. Campbell 2000). The theme is how a non-people attain a proper identity. The echo here of Isa. 57:19 can indicate a parallel to Paul in applying references to Israelites by analogy to Gentiles. This may also be the case in that the image of the ἐκκλησία as the bride of Christ may have been inspired by the story of Israel as a foundling in Ezekiel 16. This, as in Paul’s case also, by no means implies a lack of awareness of ethnic specificity, but quite the opposite. The Overcoming of Hostility in the New Anthropos In a powerful declaration, the author declares that Christ has made us both— τὰ ἀμφότερα—one, though not “in place of the two” as the RSV translation gratuitously adds in 2:14. There can be little doubt that by the “both,” Jews and Gentiles are clearly intended. Christ is presented as the one who has metaphorically broken down the balustrade (soreg) in the temple that separated Jews and nonJews, thus enabling the creation of a new ἄνθρωπος also metaphorical. Though

24. My suggestion is that for reasons of social and political expediency, the author avoids explicit mention of Jews or God’s purpose for them, not because relations between Jews and non-Jews in the Ephesus region are hostile, but because of their precarious nature due to the anomalous situation of the developing ἐκκλησίαι, he chooses to deal specifically only with the situation of those from the nations who are in Christ. It would probably not be politically advisable to draw attention to being Jewish around the time of Nerva’s imposition of the fiscus Judaicus.

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the celebratory style and sustained rhetoric suggest that the one new ἄνθρωπος is already realized, rather than merely announced, it should be recognized that this verse refers to the purpose of God in Christ so that (ἵνα) he might create one new ἄνθρωπος, so making peace. The “not yet” aspect is clear when read in light of 4:22-24, where readers are exhorted to put off the old ἄνθρωπος and to put on the new. The baptismal imagery of clothing underlies this language and can be dangerous when applied carelessly to identity.25 Clothes can be easily or quickly discarded, but identity is something else, “a task rather than a possession” (Tanner 1997: 124–25), and it is clear that the peace which Christ has made possible is still a goal in process of being achieved. Thus, essentialized or ontological claims about the transcending of one’s ethnicity in a new “person” that transcends the old are unwarranted here since the text points to an ongoing attempt to realize what Christ has rendered achievable (contra Lincoln 1990: 144). According to 2:13-16, despite debates about what aspects of the law are intended by τὸν νόμον τῶν ἐντολῶν, what is abolished by Christ is the enmity, not the law itself (Campbell 2013: 169–86). This enmity can only refer to hostility between Jew and non-Jew.26 But does this refer to past hostility, or that which still manifests itself in social relations between Jews and non-Jews in the Ephesus area where both groups were well represented? It is likely also that both forms of following Christ, that is, both Jewish and Gentile, as well other possible variants such as mixed congregations, were in evidence in such a large city as Ephesus. If hostility between Jew and non-Jew was still being experienced, did it extend into the Christ-following groups as well, and is this one of the reasons for the author’s ingenious attempt to argue for unity in Christ? One indication that this is so may be gleaned from the indirect reporting of how non-Jews are depicted by Jews and vice versa in 2:11. Further indication may also be found in 3:6, where it is not explicitly stated how and with whom the Gentiles have become joint-heirs. The wording is not that of Rom. 8:17, “heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.” It would seem quite feasible to give a reference to Jews or even Jews in Christ at this point, but for some reason the author does otherwise. Is this because a reference to Jews as Jews was problematic for some possibly political reason? There is again only the one reference to Israel in 2:12, and despite following Paul’s fundamental concerns about unity between Jews and non-Jews, the parties to be reconciled are not always explicitly enumerated. I infer from this that there is a sensitivity concerning Jew-Gentile relations in the varied interethnic, inter-Christ-following groups in Ephesus that causes the author to use great discretion in discussing the parties requiring ongoing reconciliation. Thus, he affirms oneness, the unity of the Spirit, in the strongest possible terms—one inclusive body of Christ, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one

25. There may even be an implicit echo in the “put off,” “put on” clothing analogy with the cultic ritual of changing Artemis’s clothing. 26. Cf. the NRSV translation of 2:14, “and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.”

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baptism, one God and Father of us all (4:3-6). Where one announces unity in such strong emphases, this oneness has to be recognized as not only a claim or present possession but also as a hope only in process of realization. From this I infer that there was diversity and a degree of mutual acceptance among the Jews, Christfollowing Jews, and other Christ-followers in Ephesus, but that ongoing, possibly beneath the surface, political and ethnic tensions rendered even the search for reconciliation a precarious enterprise. These tensions emerge not merely because of this diversity per se, but also because the addressees live in the shadow of Artemis and under the dominion of Rome.27 The unique solution that the author offers is a representation of Christ as the bringer of peace just as Solomon has been depicted as enjoying and guaranteeing the blessing of peace in the united kingdom of Israel.28 An association is made in the Testament of Solomon between Solomon as Temple builder and the ἀκρογωνιαῖος as the focal point of the Temple’s construction just as Ephesians presents Christ as the key component of the new temple (See Kreitzer 2008b: 128–30). Kreitzer holds that there are grounds for suggesting that the Testament of Solomon offers an intriguing parallel to Eph. 2:20, particularly as far as the unusual term ἀκρογωνιαῖος is concerned. Kreitzer’s thesis is that the writer of Ephesians deliberately associates Christ with the person responsible for the construction of the first temple in Jerusalem, Solomon himself. Traditions about Solomon as the man of peace who constructed the Jerusalem Temple are echoed with reference to the work of Christ. This peace is described as if Christ were constructing a new temple from the building blocks of Jews and Gentiles.29 Christ is the cornerstone or capstone of this building. The fact that the whole building coheres together as intended when the capstone is finally put in place speaks in favor of capstone. But as an image of a building in process of construction, as is the case with Christ’s temple, this is not so useful as cornerstone which in fact actually determines the direction and angle of the entire structure. An image suggesting a finishing touch to a building is not so fruitful as one that supports the concept of the erection of a rising structure not yet complete. The New Anthropos as a Growing Construction This is supported by another analogy. Ephesians is the only place in the New Testament where the process of construction of a temple is mentioned—this temple

27. This aspect is very well developed by Immendörfer, 2017 (n. 4 above). 28. Kreitzer concludes that “it seems clear that within the thought of the Deuteronomist there is a deliberate emphasis that King Solomon reigned over a kingdom consisting of two groups which were at enmity with one another but which had been brought together in order to form a single nation” (Kreitzer 2008b: 124). 29. Since the Jerusalem Temple was destroyed, this image of a new Temple has no necessary association with supersessionist theology. Jews had experience of life without the Temple, even if they always lived in hope of its restoration.

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actually “grows” (αὐξάνω).30 The gifts given by Christ are to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for the “building up” (εἰς οἰκοδομήν) of the body of Christ (4:12). This growth is ongoing and grows into the unity (εἰς τὴν ἑνότητα) of the faith, and into the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ. Rather than being like tiny children or babes in Christ, pulled in all directions by conflicting ideologies currently manifest in Ephesus, Christ-followers are called to grow up in every way into him who is the head of the entire building that holds every joint of it, dovetailed together in its rightful place, thus enabling the working of all together, with every joint in its proper place to allow unhindered bodily growth and building up in love (4:14-16). This new growth is in a direction away from the previous life lived as Gentiles, “live no longer as the gentiles do” (4:17-19), and in a more Israelite direction— designated as learning Christ, ἐμάθετε τὸν Χριστόν (4:20)—despite there being no question of becoming proselytes to Judaism. The temple of Artemis may well have been the analogy for the ἐκκλησία as the new temple of Christ in process of being built. Lincoln states that if there is a problem with the Ephesians it is not one of Gentile arrogance but of ignorance of roots, and therefore a deficient sense of identity (1990: 133). It seems possible that the addressees are feeling inadequate in that they still feel attracted to some extent to their Gentile past with its all popular pervasive admiration of Artemis, and need a counteracting force to help them build a transformed identity as those from the nations now related through Christ to the God of Israel. In this perspective, as Gentiles, they have not lost anything valuable in their transfer from following cults such as that of Artemis, but gained immeasurably through Christ in that they were political non-entities, strangers, and foreigners who have now been made jointheirs with Israelites and enjoy a glorious inheritance in the household of God. This transfer is conveyed in the image of the ἐκκλησία as the bride of Christ, not just as the outcome of the transfer but also including the depiction of their previous state prior to their inclusion. The relation of Christ to the ἐκκλησία is described in the image of husband and wife which most commentators see as based on the story of Yahweh and Israel in Ezekiel 16. In this story, Israel is a foundling maiden who is lost, bleeding, and unloved. Her father was an Amorite and her mother a Hittite, and she was unwanted and possibly left out to die. But Yahweh took pity on her, bathed her with water, washed away her blood, anointed her with oil, clothed her with beautiful garments, and adorned her with jewelry. This possibly reflects the marriage covenant of Yahweh with Jerusalem, now used by the Ephesian author to relate Christ to the “Church.” But if this is the background of the passage, then it depicts Israel also as initially a foundling taken care of by God, a non-people, deficient in every respect, but loved by and covenanted with her God. Just as Israel’s identity was secured by entering into covenant with God, so too the identity of former worshippers of Artemis or other cults who felt deprived in relation to their fellow-Gentiles who continue in devotion to her, is not in doubt; because Israel

30. The imagery of growth also occurs in 1 Corinthians 3, but this is toward God.

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owned nothing but gained all from God’s covenant, so too by analogy the gentile non-people with an identity deficiency resulting from turning away from Artemis to Christ, have in the fellowship within the ἐκκλησία, a transformed identity in joint association with Israel and her God while still retaining their distinct identity as those from the nations.31 In contrast to the temple of Artemis, Christ-followers as being built together into a great new building of which Christ is the cornerstone seems possibly the best image. The temple of Artemis had already been rebuilt no less than four times, so that at the period of writing, temple building would have been a familiar image for the Ephesians. It was not like the building of a normal house, though words with the “οικ” stem are abundant throughout the letter.32 It is the household of God that is being built, an enormous structure, a major building enterprise paralleling the construction of a magnificent temple, where amazingly God is said to dwell—the only place in the New Testament where God dwells in a temple. But this is a building into which Christ-followers are built together, and this can still be coherent with the requirement that God does not dwell in a “temple made with hands” (Acts 17:24). The direction of the author’s ethical guidance can be well exemplified from his citation of Zechariah 8 in 4:25-26. This concerns the lexeme of truth/ faithfulness that is used to exhort the speaking of truth to one’s neighbor, and the avoidance of long-term anger toward him/her. It is particularly interesting in that Zechariah 8 begins with the Lord saying “I am jealous for Zion . . . . I will return to Zion, and will dwell in the midst of Jerusalem . . . and Jerusalem shall be called the faithful city” (8:2-3). Then in 8:13, it is claimed that as you were a curse among the heathen, “O house of Judah and house of Israel, so I will save you and you shall be a blessing.” Though God had earlier not relented of his proposed punishment, now he has, “so again I have proposed in these days to do good to Jerusalem, and to the house of Judah” (8:13-15). In the period following the fall of Jerusalem and the loss of the Temple, such passages may well have been much reflected upon, but the author uses them as a forceful support for his call to keep faith with his neighbor and to execute truth’s judgments and peace. Here we have also an echo of Solomon’s peace-making, in that Zech. 8:9 includes a reference to the prophets who were present when the foundation stone of the house of the Lord of Hosts was laid so that the temple might be built, “for before those days neither was there any peace.” We note also that 8:22-23 states, “Many people and strong nations shall come to seek the Lord of hosts in Jerusalem . . . . In those days ten men from nations of every language shall take hold of a Jew,

31. The identity of non-Jewish Christ-followers as representatives of the nations rather than as individuals is important, see Campbell (2006: 63–64,149–54 and 2016: 129–30). 32. In 2:19-22, there are no less than six occurrences to accentuate the new status of Gentiles, no longer as ξένοι and παροίκοι but now οἰκεῖοι (and not Israelites). Cf. also 4:12, 16, 29.

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grasping his garment and saying let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.” In his call to do truth with one’s neighbor, to make righteous judgments, in the vein of the biblical patterns of care for the needy, the author of Ephesians echoes the image of Solomon as the bringer of peace and blessing in maintaining the unity of the formerly divided kingdoms. There is also in this chapter the reiteration that God continues to favor Jerusalem, and the possible call to take hold of the Jew since God is with him. It would seem that the symbolic universe into which the author wishes to invite the non-Jewish Christ-followers is one of unity, as Solomon maintained unity in divided Israel, one of making peace and doing righteousness with one’s neighbor, and also one in which one might associate with a Jew since there is a tradition that God is with them.

Conclusion Ephesians represents a period when what Paul began with the Gentiles had blossomed into a diverse entity in an area where other Christ-followers, such as the Johannine may now live side by side with the Pauline, in a context where Jews also coexisted in some numbers. It was now time to reflect on what has happened and on its theological and practical significance. How is the diversity to be managed, difference to be reconciled, particularly since the author of Ephesians does not see difference only as temporary or as the chief obstacle? He has a vision of unity in continuing diversity, and not surprisingly or mistakenly, judges this to emanate from Paul whose heritage he seeks to encapsulate and thus to continue. The Gentiles are described as having been brought near—not into—Israel. They are not designated as Israelites or ex-Gentiles, but they have a status as those from the nations despite being given a self-understanding in Christ which represents an Israelite view of reality. Significantly, the message concerning the Christ is presented in a manner that resonates with the cult-culture of Ephesus, and the language used depicts Christ as the most powerful savior in the universe, who is able to save his followers from all the demonic powers that might assail them. In a city which boasts of the Artemision, where temple building had been almost a continuous process for many years, the author depicts Christ as the foundation stone of a great temple in which his diverse followers are being built up into a unity. The Gentiles become joint-heirs with Jews, and share in the Israelite inheritance as indicated in the numerous συν compounds (3:6). The ἐκκλησία is conceived as a universal ἐκκλησία, and as the bride of Christ in parallel with the divine commitment to Jerusalem, but it is not conceived as an alternative to Israel or as superseding Israel. The author’s concern is not precisely with Israel as such; his immediate concern is so to ground those converts from the nations within an Israelite symbolic universe that they will attain a confident identity that does not feel deprived with the loss of previous cultural attractions such as the worship of Artemis.

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Difference will remain within this temple, but Christ is the prince of peace who, in the pattern of Solomon, is able to unite divided groups to bring reconciliation and blessing.

References Best, E. (1997), Essays on Ephesians, Edinburgh: T&T Clark. Best, E. (1998), Ephesians, International Critical Commentary, Edinburgh: T&T Clark. Campbell, W. S. (2000), “Divergent Images of Paul and His Mission: Examples from the Reception of Romans in the Twentieth Century,” in D. Patte and C. Grenholm (eds.), Reading Israel in Romans: Legitimacy and Plausibility of Divergent Interpretations, Romans through History and Cultures Series, 187–211, London: T&T Clark. Campbell, W. S. (2006), Paul and the Creation of Christian Identity, London: T&T Clark. Campbell W. S. (2013), “Unity and Diversity in the Church: Transformed Identities and the Peace of Christ in Ephesians,” in Unity and Diversity in Christ: Interpreting Paul in Context, W. S. Campbell, 127–45, Eugene: Wipf & Stock. Campbell, W. S. (2016), “Reading Paul in Relation to Judaism,” in A. J. Avery-Peck, C. A. Evans, and J. Neusner (eds.), Earliest Christianity within the Boundaries of Judaism: Essays in Honor of Bruce Chilton, 120–50, Leiden: Brill. Dahl, N. (1986), “Gentiles, Christians and Israelites in the Epistle to the Ephesians,” in G. W. E Nickelsburg and G. W. MacRae (eds.), Christians Among Jews and Gentiles, FS for K Stendahl, 31–39, Minneapolis: Fortress. Dunn, J. D. G. (1998), The Theology of Paul the Apostle, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Ehrensperger, K. (2016), “The Pauline Ἐκκλησίαι and Images of Community in Jewish Tradition,” in G. Boccaccini and C. Segovia (eds.), Paul the Jew: Reading the Apostle as a Figure of Second Temple Judaism, 183–216, Minneapolis: Fortress. Esler, P. (2003), Conflict and Identity in Romans: The Social Setting of Paul’s Letter, Minneapolis: Fortress. Fowl, S. (2007), “Learning to Be a Gentile,” in A. T. Lincoln and A. Paddison (eds.), Christology and Scripture: Interdisciplinary Perspectives, 22–40, London: T&T Clark. Immendörfer, M. (2017), Ephesians and Artemis: The Cult of the Goddess of Ephesus as the Epistle’s Context, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Jenkins, R. (1997), Rethinking Ethnicity: Arguments and Explorations, London: Sage. Jeremias, J. (1942), ἀκρογωνιαίος Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament; IV, 275–83, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Knibbe, D., H. Englemann, and B. Iplikcioglu (1993), “Neue Inschriften aus Ephesos,” Jahreshefte des Österreichischen Archäologischen Institutes in Wien 62: 113–22. Kreitzer, L. J. (2008a), Hierapolis in the Heavens: Studies in the Letter to the Ephesians, London: T&T Clark. Kreitzer, L. J. (2008b), “The Messianic Man of Peace as Temple-Builder: Solomonic Imagery in Ephesians 2.13-22,” in Hierapolis in the Heavens: Studies in the Letter to the Ephesians, L. J. Kreitzer, 107–32, London: T&T Clark. Lincoln, A. (1990), Ephesians, Word Biblical Commentary 42, Dallas: Word Books. Macdonald, M. Y. (2005), “The Politics of Identity in Ephesians,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 26: 419–44. Marcus, J. (1989), “The Circumcision and the Uncircumcision in Rome,” New Testament Studies 35: 67–81.

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Muddiman, J. (2001), The Epistle to the Ephesians, New York: Continuum. Shkul, M. (2009), Reading Ephesians: Exploring Social Entrepreneurship in the Text, London: T&T Clark. Tanner, K. (1997), Theories of Culture: A New Agenda for Theology, Minneapolis: Fortress. Treblico, P. (1991), Jewish Communities in Asia Minor. Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series 68, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yee, Tet-Lim N. (2005), Jews, Gentiles and Ethnic Reconciliation: Paul’s Jewish Identity and Ephesians, Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Chapter 4 EPHESIANS IN THE JEWISH POLITICAL DEBATE OF THE FIRST CENTURY: RETHINKING PAUL’S APPROACH IN FACING NEW CHALLENGES Eric Noffke

The rise of the Jesus movement followed only a few decades later than the establishment of the Roman Empire. In the years of Jesus’s ministry and crucifixion, in the time of the apostolic proclamation of his resurrection, the Roman emperors established and stabilized their power in the Eternal City, with Caesar Octavian Augustus laying the foundation of the new political system. Since its beginning, the imperial cult developed, especially in the Eastern provinces, as one of the fuller expressions of this power. There is a wide agreement among the scholars that the imperial cult developed through the initiative of the local elites, using it to relate to the central power, in line with what had happened to the Hellenistic kings. Scholars today tend to stress the pervasiveness of this cult in ancient society: it was not at all a matter of “personal devotion,” but, rather, it was related to public religious life.1 The emperor was present in the everyday life of every ancient city in many different forms, through his priests, statues, sacrifices, festivals, coins, inscriptions, and so on. Roman propaganda pictured him as the savior of humankind from wars and chaos, the giver and defender of life and peace, a lord above every other lord, and a god who negotiated with the supreme divinities the well-being of the peoples subject to Rome. What concerns the early Christian writers is not the personal worship of the emperor himself as an act of political and religious obedience; this will become

1. Some scholars like Colin Miller (2010: 314–32) question the idea of “pervasiveness,” since, for instance, no trace of temples to the divine Caesars can be found in many of the cities where Paul operated. The evidence, though, points to a very clear imperial theology since Augustus’s reign, with the emperor at the top of human society, connecting humankind with the gods and securing peace and well-being for the empire. This theology was very clear to the inhabitants of the Roman Empire, and, gradually, assumed greater expression in public spaces in various forms (in literature, temples, and inscriptions).

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a serious problem only in a later time. Instead, we should clarify how much the Roman imperial gospel influenced the theological language of the nascent Christian movement, on the one hand, and understand how much the early Christian writers consciously used such language and images to define Jesus’s lordship over the whole world in contrast to Roman imperial claims. Many essays have been devoted to this topic, especially since the last years of the twentieth century, mainly in reaction to the groundbreaking book, Rituals of Power (1984), by Samuel Price, which rediscovered the importance of the imperial cult in ancient times. Two main scholarly lines have developed. The first one, represented, for instance, by Horsley (2000; 2004; 2008) and Elliot (1995), stresses the fact that the early Christian writers consciously used the imperial language to oppose Christ’s gospel to the emperor’s gospel. The second and more recent one (e.g., Maier 2013) interprets the use of Roman imperial images and keywords rather in the sense of hybridity, namely, the acquisition and adaptation of the language of the colonial power to express a radically different worldview within a social, cultural, and political context determined and ruled by the colonial power. In this renewed field of research, we should note that very little has been written about the letter to the Ephesians, compared to the numerous studies on Paul and the gospels: besides a few articles, only two major pieces of research have appeared, one by E. Faust (1993) and the other by Harry O. Maier (2013). In line with the topic of this volume, we will see how a disciple of Paul, writing probably in the eighties of the first century, developed the apostle’s political ideas in a new historical context and in relation to other contemporary forms of Judaism.

Paul’s Political Heritage One significant political event divides into two groups the letters attributed to the apostle Paul: the Jewish Revolt against Rome that brought the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple in the year 70 CE. Paul belongs to the phase before it, Ephesians to the phase following it. In the years before 70 CE, Paul and presumably the whole first generation of Christians expected Christ’s Parousia in a matter of months. With such a strong eschatological expectation, two conflicting attitudes toward the Roman Empire could coexist: on the one hand, Paul considered the Roman Empire to be doomed along with the evil powers of this world (1 Cor. 2:6-8); on the other hand, he exhorted his readers to obey the human authorities because they received their power from God (Rom. 13:1-7). Even if we must read Romans in the context of the growing tension in Judaea, which was putting all Jews under a closer control by the authorities, the fact that the two attitudes coexisted is striking and can be explained, I think, only by recognizing that for Paul Christ’s Parousia would soon make everything right, finally installing God’s kingdom. It’s the same tension that we find in Jesus’s saying in Mt. 22:21: “Give therefore to the emperor the things that

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are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”2 According to Matthew, Jesus takes a precise stand against the idea of resisting the Romans by not paying the taxes (one of the pillars of the Zealots’s program), but limits what belongs to the emperor to the things that his followers are supposed to abandon, such as wealth, while rendering to God their whole person.3 What is new in respect to Jesus’s preaching is the fact that Paul used keywords and images from Roman imperial ideology to express his Christology. This is evident in his use of imperial titles (above all κύριος and υἱὸς θεοῦ), now attributed to the risen Christ, as well as of images that recalled the epiphanies and triumphs of the emperors (e.g., Phil. 2:5-11).4 It’s true, as many scholars have stressed, that some of these keywords may come from the Greek Old Testament, but stressing Jesus’s victory and enthronement represented a clear act of spiritual opposition to the emperor because, according to the Christian gospel, it is Jesus and not Caesar who brings peace, prosperity, and life. This political aspect of Paul’s theology is very interesting, especially if it is read within its first-century Jewish context, where we cannot find examples of the use of imperial language to offer an alternative worldview to the empire, not even in texts which are clearly anti-Roman, like some Qumran writings, 4 Ezra, or some of the Sibylline Oracles.5 It’s rather the opposite: Jews like Philo of Alexandria and Josephus, as it happened often with the provincial elites, gave good examples of pro-Roman propaganda (e.g., Leg. Gai. 21:143-151). In a few words, the heritage Paul left to his disciples, especially on the political meaning of the Christ-event, was not easy to handle because of its inner tension, which had to be solved in one way or the other: it had to be further developed and

2. All biblical quotes are from the New Revised Standard Version. 3. According to the Synoptics, Jesus never states explicitly in his preaching that the Romans will be wiped away in the end-times, as Paul did, even if this idea seems to be implied in the preaching of God’s kingdom. Jesus rather proposed a kind of “provocative” resistance (e.g., Mt. 5:41: “if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile”), irony (Mk. 5:1-20, where the pigs, rather than accepting the Legion’s occupation, prefer to die in the sea), and showing a noteworthy respect for every person, even for the servant of the centurion, who is healed (Mt. 8:5-13). 4. If Phil. 2:5-11 is a pre-Pauline hymn, then we must deduce that the use of imperial language in Christian theology predates Paul, since this text is full of imperial language. 5. The few Jewish anti-Roman texts of this period didn’t use imperial language: they mainly speak in terms of revenge and destruction. It’s clear in the two visions of 4 Ezra, where the enemies to the chosen people will be destroyed in the end-times. In chapter 11 the Roman Empire is represented like a monstrous eagle, powerful but finally destroyed by fire; in chapter 13 the nations will gather to destroy the messiah, but they will be melted by the fire of his mouth. In some Qumran writings the Romans are defined as Kittim and will fight against God with the sons of darkness, only to be utterly destroyed (e.g., 1QpHab II,10,15; III 2,14; 1QM I,10). The Sibylline Oracles have also some words foretelling the final destruction of Rome (4:120-136; 5:158,178).

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adapted to the new situation that came into being after the year 70 CE, and it was no longer possible to state simultaneously that the emperor would be destroyed but had, nevertheless, to be obeyed. It became necessary to stress that everything that does not belong to God—to keep Jesus’s metaphor—belongs to the devil (Revelation). Alternatively, some found accommodation with the empire (e.g., 1 Pet. 2:12-15), without feeling that they had betrayed God’s requests. One major change occurred after the temple’s destruction that we need to recall here: it became more evident that Jesus’s Parousia had to be delayed to a remote future: at present, life had to be managed in the context of a Roman Empire triumphant over God’s people. An urgent question that needed to be solved within this radically new context concerned election: who were the heirs of God’s promises, now that the temple and its priesthood were no more? The years between the first and second defeats, when Bar Kokhba was killed and Judaea became a pagan land (135 CE), were decisive for the struggle between the nascent rabbinic movement and the church—still competing Jewish movements—over Israel’s heritage.

The Date of Ephesians There is a long-lasting discussion about the date and authorship of Ephesians, as the letter contains a few references and allusions to Paul (e.g., the address of the letter in 1:1; cf. 3:1,8,13; 4:1; 6:19) yet no clear clues are offered for understanding its historical context. Almost every element of this letter, literary style, theology, and language, indicate a pseudepigraphic author. I assume here the thesis that this writing is a kind of “newsletter” sent to some of the churches in Asia Minor by a disciple of Paul the apostle around the year 80 CE. This was a time of political peace, though uneasy for the Jews, who had to find a new position in the empire after the terrible defeat in Judaea. A good witness of this situation is the personal story of the Jewish historian Flavius Josephus, who strove to find his place at the Flavian court and show that the Jews were a peaceful people misled by infatuated rebels, frustrated by an inadequate (to say the least) Roman provincial administration. During these years, Jews experienced further humiliation, above all, through the fiscus Judaicus imposed by Vespasian. Even if the Flavian emperors seem to have respected Judaism more or less, granting Jews their traditional privileges, the ancient tension in Egypt and Cyrenaica between the Greeks and the Jews remained high and ready to explode at the first good occasion, above all in Alexandria: the fact that in 115 CE the Jews in Cyrenaica, Egypt, and Mesopotamia revolted against the Romans shows that the defiance’s fire had not been extinguished when the Romans crushed the revolt in 70 CE. In other areas of the empire, the situation was much quieter. Josephus tells about when the Greek population of Antioch requested Titus to suppress some of the privileges granted to the Jews by Caesar and Augustus, but he refused, and the situation seems to have settled (War 7:100–115).

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But the problems the Jews faced after their defeat were not much of an issue for the Romans: after the turbulences that followed the death of the Emperor Nero, political order in the empire was restored by Vespasian. Peace, Concordia, and Victory became the main topics of the Flavian propaganda in these years, as the evidence clearly shows. Josephus, in War 7:158–162, tells about the temple to Peace Vespasian built in Rome after his triumph, where he laid the Jerusalem temple’s golden furniture: it was a peace imposed against inner and outer rebels through victory acquired with the armies. The cult of the emperors continued as before, with increased intensity even to the last of the Flavii in Rome, as witnessed, for instance, by the Gens Flavia temple built by Domitian shortly after he succeeded Titus. The models followed remained the same as those inaugurated by Augustus at the beginning of the Principate.

Political Issues and Their Solution The Political Language With this context in mind, we may now look more closely at Ephesians. Since the letter’s main concern is the proclamation of God’s people as a unity of circumcised and uncircumcised, it has to be seen as a political letter in its essence. This does not mean that the letter is an anti-Roman writing like John’s Apocalypse, even if the act of announcing that a new and better politeia had been established in Christ, who was proclaimed by God as the almighty Lord and master of the whole creation, was not quite a form of appreciation of the Pax Romana. It is rather the establishment of the ekklesia on the foundation of Christ’s victory that is a political act in itself. Let’s follow the plot of Ephesians, pointing to the political language it uses, which stands in full continuity with Paul. After a short greeting, the author of this letter goes straight to the point of his main argument: defining his readers’ new identity. They are faithful saints, blessed in the heavenly places, chosen to be holy and blameless, adopted as God’s children, redeemed through Jesus: not quite the subdued people the Roman ideology would expect. These are the kind of men and women who, by God’s grace, have been saved (1:3-9). This is a mystery that has been communicated to the Ephesians, and it consists in the inheritance that the author and the addressees can claim to have received in Christ. After a few words of thanksgiving for the faith of the Ephesians and a prayer for their illumination (1:15-19) comes a striking expression of Christ’s greatness: God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, 21 far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all. (1:20-23)

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This is the powerful representation of a victorious king who is now enthroned over the whole world, having defeated all his enemies. While a willing submission to Jesus is intended in 1:10 (“to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth”), here, as Best (2001: 219) suggests, Christ has overcome all his enemies. Even if his followers will still have to fight their foes (6:10), they know already that they have no power anymore against the saints. These verses closely recall the imagery commonly used to describe the emperor’s achievements and triumphs, as can be seen in numerous coins and inscriptions as well as in the architecture (e.g., Titus’s arch in Rome) and literature from the time. After this long introduction, chapter 2 of Ephesians raises the following question: who are these people who received this grace? They are described as initially lost, submitted to “the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient” (2:2). In this section (2:1-22), the addressees’ miserable condition is compared to the new one, glorious indeed, acquired only by God’s grace in Christ that unites pagans and Jews into one single people. Christ’s ekklesia is made of sinners sanctified by Jesus’s blood and has become a spiritual (could we dare to use the word “mystic”?) place where peace, unity, renewal, and friendship become an actual reality: God “raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus” (Eph. 2:6). This is a fact happening in the present, not a future reality like we see in the undisputed Pauline letters (e.g., 1 Cor. 6:2ff.; Rom. 8:17, 30). In chapter 3:1-13 the reader’s attention is focused on Paul and his message, on his role of apostle to the pagans. Here we find a very interesting note on the church’s mission, which we will develop later to understand its political meaning: To make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things; so that through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places. (3:9-10)

In 3:14-21, a long intercession prayer for the saints brings to an end the theological section of this letter. Chapter 4, then, begins the second section devoted to the exhortation with a special attention to a behavior that gives full expression to the unity of the church, which is one as God is One: “I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called .  .  .  .” This leads the reader to 4:17 where a strong invective against the pagans begins, introducing a list of examples of what is life in Christ that goes on until 5:20. This radical condemnation of the pagans clearly finds its roots in contemporary Judaism. But can we see in these words also a rejection of the Roman emperor’s cult? The strange silence on this matter suggests that it was too dangerous to be explicitly expressed. In 5:21 a new section begins, usually defined as the “Household Codes.” There should be submission among Christ’s followers: “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ.” Wives should submit to their husbands as the church is submitted to Christ, children to their parents, and slaves to their masters. Scholars

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discuss how these codes should be interpreted. Does it represent a conservative shift in the Pauline school of thought? An attempt to follow the advice found in 1 Pet. 2:12: “Conduct yourselves honorably among the Gentiles, so that, though they malign you as evildoers, they may see your honorable deeds and glorify God when he comes to judge”? Or just a way to avoid clashes with pagan authorities by complying with the common family ethic? According to Faust (1993: 434ff.), the Household Codes are an attempt to bring the Christians back into the imperial culture but with the noteworthy difference that he who guarantees the codes is Christ, and not the emperor. According to Harrill (2014: 379–402), the issue has to be understood within the context of ethnicity: here Ephesians is building a new ethnos, and, in order to do so, a common ethic is needed in addition to a common religion. The whole section of Eph. 4–6, especially the Household Codes, is aimed toward this goal. This section is followed by a very interesting calling to wear τὴν πανοπλίαν τοῦ θεου, God’s armor, which recalls the Roman legionaries, an armor made of faith, hope, truth (6:11-13). The hostile powers defeated by Jesus (1:20ff.) are pictured here in a dark tone. In the years after the defeat of the Jewish rebels in Judaea, it was important to stress that the real war had been fought and won by the resurrected Christ. The Romans should be considered part of the defeated enemies, but it was not necessary to say so expressis verbis. The fact that no word is explicitly uttered in the letter about the earthly powers looks rather like a form of political cautiousness: its readers would have clearly understood that the Romans were included.6 Finally, we should note the prominence of another keyword in Ephesians that appears in Roman imperial propaganda, also during Flavian times. The word εἰρήνη, “peace,” occurs eight times in key places that frame the entire letter, appearing at the incipit, body, and conclusion of Ephesians: 1:2; 2:14, 15, 17 (2x); 4:3; 6:15, 23. Peace is the distinctive characteristic of God’s work in Christ, it has the first and the last word.

A New Humankind This summary helps us not only to focus our attention on the language and images related to imperial ideology, but also to understand the way the author of Ephesians employs Paul’s political theology to answer the main questions imposed by the new political and religious situation upon Judaism as well as Jesus’s followers, who can still be viewed as part of Judaism at this time. A major issue we have to deal with is that of the identity of the Jewish people after the destruction of the temple,

6. See Barth (1974 vol. 1: 174): “It is probable that Paul means by principalities and powers those institutions and structures by which earthly matters and invisible realms are administered, and without which no human life is possible.”

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which created a situation of deep crisis and renewal, not too dissimilar to the one that occurred five hundred years earlier at the hands of the Babylonians. The answer provided by Ephesians develops what Paul had expressed in his letters but in an original way: God has created a new anthropos by abolishing Moses’s law in Christ and using the Romans to destroy its worldly symbol, namely, the wall that was in the court of the Jerusalem temple that divided pagans, from Israelites. The division between Jew and Gentile has been suppressed in Christ as a new foundation of God’s people. This new people has been founded on Jesus Christ, his blood, and a very specific ethos (e.g., the domestic codes appearing at the end of the letter). It is important to stress that this new anthropos represents the only true humankind, saved by God’s merciful judgment. The name of this new people is ekklesia, which is considered as the assembly of those human beings called by God to be saved forever. Ekklesia is a political term, and it is remarkable that while the emperor’s body is conceived as an empire, an arché, imperium, a sum of provinces that belong to the Roman people,7 Christ’s body constitutes a gathering of people called by God, with different gifts but equal in worth and dignity. This body, furthermore, is united, denouncing the Roman motto divide et impera. The interethnic unity of Christ’s body must be read against the background of Roman policy after the First Jewish War, whose main justification was that Rome ruled over a multitude of troublesome peoples that would slaughter each other were it not for the Pax Romana. In contrast to the enthusiastic adherence of Roman imperial propaganda by writers living in the first decades of the empire, though, during the Flavian years many celebrate Roman rule in a less enthusiastic but more realistic tone. Josephus provides a notable example. He acknowledges the vastness of the Roman Empire: Nay, even that world has not sufficed for their ambition. For not content with having for their frontiers on the east the Euphrates, on the north the Ister, on the south Lybia, explored into desert regions, on the west Gades, they have sought a new world beyond the ocean and carried their arms as far as the Britons, previously unknown to history. (War 2:363)

The Empire is praised because it can keep all of these peoples together. And it would be foolish to oppose such an incredible power, as Agrippa admits in a speech given in Jerusalem at the outburst of the rebellion. Yet it is precisely when the greatness of Rome is exalted that we clearly perceive that there is no project to unify the peoples, only a call for everyone to obey the stronger power (Ant. 16:38, 40): for Josephus, there is no alternative to this situation because this is God’s will.

7. This idea is present in the Roman ideology since the beginning, as we can see stated in Augustus’s Res Gestae, line 26, where the difference between Roman citizens and provincials is clearly expressed, and it is said that the provinces belong to the Romans.

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A similar discourse can be found in the writings of the historian Tacitus. In his De Agricola, he provides us with a very interesting example of how a Roman aristocrat would understand Romanization. He talks about the introduction of Roman lifestyle into barbarian cities through the construction of temples (some dedicated to the emperors), squares (fora), houses, and thermal baths. Agricola tried to create a Romanized local elite, and Tacitus’s comment on the subject is quite revealing: along with the Roman customs, there came also Roman vices and corruption, so that idque apud imperitos humanitas vocabatur, cum pars servitutis esset (“being inexperienced, they called this civilization, while it was just part of their enslavement”) (Agric. 21). A little further in the same book, a speech of the rebel Calgacus (Agric. 30-31) goes even further in its scary depiction of Roman occupation. Aufferre, trucidare, rapere namely to steal, to slaughter, to drag away summarize the essence of the empire: “They call peace the desert they have left behind themselves.” In sum, even if Josephus and Tacitus recognize that no other alternative to chaos than submitting to the Pax Romana established by the god(s), their pronouncements are far away from the celebrative tones of Vergil or of Philo. After a century of its institution they recognized that Rome’s hands were filled with blood and that many of its governors and even emperors were corrupt and cruel. Within this framework of thought, it is clear that neither the idea of integration (maybe only of the local elites) nor of cosmopolitanism could be present in this ideology of the empire: the rule of one chosen people over the multitudes of nations, submitted by force, reigns. In this same vein, we can interpret the coins of the Flavian years that mention fiscus Judaicus or Judaea capta: this rebel people had been submitted by force were now to live quietly within the Roman Empire. The only possible way to integrate into the Roman Empire is by submitting to the Caput Mundi.8 Ephesians challenges this ideology of submission, picturing a whole different theology governing the relationship among the nations: when human emperors fail to build a righteous and peaceful kingdom, in which all nations can become one, then God comes to realize it. If the Romans may seem to have won against the Jews, Christ is the winner over every power. The final consequence of Christ’s victory and constitution of the new people is the establishment of peace over a unified humankind. As we have seen earlier, the word peace occupies a strategical position within Ephesians, shaping its general frame.

A Realized Eschatology What is new in Ephesians in respect to Paul and Jesus is that in some passages Christ’s lordship on the right side of God is stressed as an actual event, as much as

8. See Note 7.

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the fact that also Christ’s followers are in heaven with him, expressing a form of “realized eschatology” (Eph. 2:6, 19; 3:10). It is difficult to understand fully what Ephesians means when stating that God “made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus” (Eph. 2:5b-6). The image also appears in Mt. 19:28, but Ephesians locates this reality in the present. Whereas Paul speaks of two ages following each other in a chronological sense, here there are two different geographical areas: the earth and the heavens. Thus, the believers in Christ apparently “live contemporaneously in two spheres” (Best 2001: 269). But do we have to understand this coexistence in the way the Qumran community understood its identity, as we see for instance in the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice? Not entirely, because in Qumran, while the chosen enjoy liturgical communion with the angels, the Angel of Darkness still has to be defeated. In any case, Barth tends to read Eph. 2:5b-6 in a more metaphorical sense: heavens can be “the sphere formed by him who fills and determines it. . . . Heaven or Heavens . . . are to be understood as a metaphor denoting the privileges, honor, authority and function given to the saints” (1974: 238). Best (2001: 270), for his part, seems to interpret this realized eschatology in a more mystical way, very close to the Gnostics way of understanding the world. Whatever interpretation is preferred, the idea that the eschaton is a realized fact explains the political attitude of this peculiar letter: the original tension lived by the first generation of Christians is solved because what was expected as a future event by the first generation of Jesus’s followers is now an accomplished fact. The ancient aeon is gone; the new one represents a reality for God’s people. In other words, since the fight against the powers has already been won by God in Jesus, it is useless to talk explicitly about the Romans: what had to be given to Caesar has been given, and now Rome does not represent a real issue. It is a relic of the past. Rome might be the context in which the church lives and witnesses, but since it is already been defeated by the victorious Christ, it is no longer a theological problem. Thus, Ephesians provides an answer to one of Paul’s claims left for the next generation to solve, namely, his claim that hostile powers were going to be destroyed at the end-times (1 Cor. 2:6-8). That event, according to the author of Ephesians, had already occurred in Christ! What remains of the Pauline heritage is the language of Empire, used to formulate the good news about the risen Christ. As an afterthought, one curious passage of the letter raises an interesting question: Although I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given to me to bring to the Gentiles the news of the boundless riches of Christ, and to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things; so that through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places. (3:8-10)

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What does it mean that “through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places”? Is there any expectation that they will convert, or is it just a way of saying that the church’s calling is to manifest to those powers their defeat by Christ through the church’s very existence? What is clear, though, is that even in the perspective of a realized eschatology there is room for a future where a renewed life may be experienced and surprising changes may still occur.

Conclusion The overall picture we get from Ephesians, when seen in the historical context we have proposed, is that God in Christ has turned the destruction of Jerusalem by the hands of the Romans into a symbol of his victory over this world and its hostile powers. In Christ all the promises of Roman propaganda about Pax and Concordia among the nations are implicitly denounced as false: only in Christ, victorious over every power, has a new ecumenical people been founded that receives true peace. In the ekklesia all the chosen ones enjoy peace and justice in God. This reality lies in the present, not in the future. The original tension between Rom. 13:1-7 (where Paul states the need to obey to the Roman authorities) and 1 Cor. 2:6-8 (where he proclaims the final destruction of the rulers of this world, and among them are the Romans) is solved by Ephesians as it dissolves the obedience to the authorities evoked by Paul into the realized eschaton: the earthly powers are now a relic of the past, already defeated and harmless against the armor of faith. Ephesians proclaims their defeat in Christ. Jesus’s disciples belong to the heavenly kingdom that still has a mission on earth, namely, to show Christ’s victory, but they already enjoy the blessings of God. The Roman emperors, then, are of the past, heirs of a false world vision that belongs to a defeated era, not even worth mentioning. What remains of the Pauline heritage are the language and the images of the emperor’s cult and propaganda, used to describe Christ’s triumph.

References Barth, M. (1974), Ephesians 1-3, Anchor Bible, 2 vols, New York: Doubleday. Best, E. (2001), Lettera agli Efesini, Brescia: Paideia. Elliot, N. (1995), Liberating Paul. The Justice of God and the Politics of the Apostle, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Faust, E. (1993), Pax Christi et Pax caesaris : Religionsgeschichtliche, traditionsgeschichtlich u. Sozialgeschichtliche Studien zum Epheserbrief, Freiburg/Göttingen: Universitätsverlag Feiburg Schweitz/Vandehoeck und Ruprecht. Harrill, J. A. (2014), “Ethnic Fluidity in Ephesians,” New Testament Studies 60: 379–402. Horsley, R. A., ed (2000), Paul and Politics: Ekklesia, Israel, Imperium, Interpretation: Essays in Honor of Krister Stendahl, Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International.

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Horsley, R. A. (2004), Paul and the Roman Imperial Order, Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International. Horsley, R. A. (2008), In the Shadow of Empire, Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press. Maier, H. O. (2013), Picturing Paul in Empire: Imperial Image, Text, and Persuasion in Colossians, Ephesians, and the Pastoral Epistles, London: T&T Clark Bloomsbury. Miller, Colin. (2010), “The Imperial Cult in the Pauline Cities of Asia Minor and Greece,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 72 (4): 314–32. Price, S. R. F. (1984), Rituals of Power, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Part II T HE R ECEPTION OF P AUL THE S ECOND T EMPLE J EW: T HE O THER D EUTERO- P AULINE E PISTLES

Chapter 5 COLOSSIANS’S GROUNDING TRADITIONALIZATION OF PAUL Anders Klostergaard Petersen

Colossians lacks many of the central Pauline ideas and is void of some of the predominant terminological clusters permeating the Pauline texts. This may be due to the contingency of Colossians emerging in a different sociohistorical situation. The crucial argument, however, for a non-Pauline origin hinges on syntax. By its extensive strings of words, the syntax is patently different from the authentic Pauline letters. No author, ancient or modern, can detach himself or herself from syntactical habits which are ingrained from an early period on (Hallbäck 2010: 118f; 170). As a default assumption I take Colossians’s Deutero-Pauline nature for granted; but such an understanding begs the question, why did an author of the late first century engage in pseudepigraphic fabrication? The letter is entirely Jewish in the sense that its author conceived Christreligion as not only representing genuine Judaism but also one that turned other forms into false instantiations (cf. Petersen 2018a). This does not make Colossians particularly malevolent in terms of intergroup contestations. It typifies Axial age religion (seventh–second century BCE with subsequent forms of religions of axiality) by acknowledging the existence of rivaling worldviews that must be denigrated to substantiate one’s own claim to truth (Cf. Petersen 2017a: 9–36, and 2017b). Obviously, archaic religion also vilified neighboring religions as defective as in Israelite castigations of Canaanite religion; but it is a hallmark of Axial age religion to exhibit a second-order awareness implying that other religions not only were faulty but constituted competing claims to veracity. They are “totalitarian” in representing a total interpretation of kosmos (in the Heideggerian sense) that cannot tolerate rivaling claims to truth.1 There is nothing in Colossians that represents something detached from or independent of Judaism. The letter breathes the same Jewish air as the Pauline writings. It is concerned with an intra-Jewish rivalry relating to teachers

1. See Assmann (2003), which does not discuss the emergence of Axial age religion, but it is adopted in Assmann (2005: 144f).

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advocating an alternative understanding of Christ. Undeniably, Colossians promotes an understanding of fleshly circumcision as inferior. True circumcision is found in baptism. But there is nothing un-Jewish in this. The Axial age type of religion frequently testifies of a shift in emphasis from ritual observance of archaic religion to various forms of inner disposition as a prerequisite for proper cultic observance. This sometimes designated a displacement of importance from ritual to a moral stance; but the terminology is incomplete, since it is not the traditional cult per se that is criticized. What is called for is a moral attitude reflecting the new worldview for correctly observing rituals. This transition also holds true in cases where a ritual of competing or previous forms of religion is replaced by a new ritual, since the latter is understood as constituting a “spiritual,” interior ritual over and against a “fleshly,” exterior one (2:10-14; Petersen 2017a and 2017b). Colossians strives to turn this internal rivalry within the early Christ-religion into an intergroup fight, whereby it makes the strife come out as a digital rather than an analogous opposition between light and dark (1:12f.), heaven and earth (3:2), true and false worship (3:5). There is no room for a continuum, only irreconcilable contrast will do. The “proximate other” by means of disgust biases is turned into the “distant other,” and what initially was a rivalry between closely competing interpretations becomes a fight between seemingly distant groups. I look at Colossians through a Weberian lens. Whereas the authentic Pauline letters are representative of a charismatic type of authority, the Deutero-Paulines exemplify the traditionalization of the previous form of religion. Colossians strives to preserve Paul as a continuous source of authority; but contrary to the genuine letters it accomplishes this by making Paul a figure of the past capable of imbuing the present with authority. The metaphorical cluster of rootedness and firmness endows the letter’s rhetoric with solid ground that makes it difficult to question or challenge its seeming unequivocality.

The Question of Authority The inspiration comes from Geert Hallbäck (1996) who in an incisive essay used the Weberian typology to shed light on the emergence of the gospel literature. He asserts that the Pauline literature is exemplary of a charismatic type of religion, in which Paul instantiates himself as possessing the spirit of God and, therefore, capable of providing his adepts with direct access to the divine world. The gospels, conversely, emerged at a time in which early Christ-religion was confronted with a problem of authority. Subsequent to the generation of Paul and the other apostles, Christ-religion was challenged with the difficulty of sustaining the organization and preserving its worldview: how could one maintain the worldview, when the tradition-carrying figures had passed away? The answer became: from the earthly Jesus. Only he could credibly be held to represent the beginning. This created the need to determine just who Jesus had

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been, and what he had done and said, that is, the need for a written account of Jesus’ entire life from beginning to end. This need was met by the genre of the gospel. (1996: 144; cf. 1999: 195)

Hallbäck elaborates his understanding by relating it to Kelber’s (1983) distinction between orality and literality, and argues: “I do not primarily see the gospel as a result of suppression of orality by literality, but rather as the genre which installed the earthly Jesus as the source and anchor of authority” (Hallbäck 1996: 145). The teacher becomes the vanguard of the social organization. He is in control of the authoritative tradition and capable of recalling and interpreting the past with respect to the present. What Hallbäck asserts with respect to the emergence of the Gospel genre may in my view be used to account for Colossians’s pseudepigraphical use of Paul. The Deutero-Pauline letters mark the move toward the traditional type of authority.2 Before examining Colossians in light of this perspective, however, I shall extend the argument by including reflections on cultural persistency. Inasmuch as a traditional form of authority succeeds the charismatic one, the transition is also integral to the question of preserving a culture and upholding group formation threatened by dissolution.

Cultural Volatility and Social Corrosion Subsequent to a century of strong Marxian influence in our understanding of culture, we tend to think of it as a means of power exertion. Culture is essentially understood as a means of suppression. Such a view—prevalent among, for example, Bourdieu, Derrida, and Foucault—is important in order to account for social dynamics and change; but our dependence on it has blinded us to more important questions: How can culture emerge in the first instance? How can it endure? Human cultural history unequivocally demonstrates that cultural persistence constitutes a greater conundrum. Languages, religions, nations, and so forth continue to disappear at a high speed. Cultural persistence is the real enigma, which brings me to another theoretician particularly perceptive to the questions of cultural feebleness and social volatility. In Durkheim’s view, culture is continuously susceptible to annihilation. The cult constitutes the occasion at which people assemble around the basic values of the culture and the group to revitalize them and thereby become strengthened by them. As soon as people disperse the collective effervescence generated by and directed toward the shared symbols begin to evaporate and wither away. To preserve the group and the culture

2. MacDonald (1988 and 2000) similarly uses the Weberian typology as a key to unlock the two letters. Whereas her focus is on the institutionalization per se, and in Colossians the replacement of Paul in a situation of his physical but not past absence, I concentrate on Paul as a figure of traditional authority and consider Colossians’s Paul as a past figure in need of re-presentation.

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binding it together, people need to reassemble to reload their cultural batteries and to secure culture against social corrosion and dissolution (Durkheim 2007: 344f. cf. 332–35). The question of social dissolution and cultural precariousness is endemic to every social organization and culture, which unremittingly is confronted with the challenge of reproducing itself and avoiding destruction. Durkheim astutely emphasized how human beings are homines duplices oscillating between their ape nature and human character, mediating between a fundamentally self-centered inclination and a culturally ingrained propensity for groupishness. Our social nature does not come naturally: a fact amply demonstrated when we compare ourselves to chimpanzees and bonobos, with whom we share 99 percent of our genes.

The Unnaturalness of Human Groupishness Biologically we are apes, that is, egoistic and despotic creatures. Together with ants and bees we are also among the most social beings. This ambiguity conduced Jonathan Haidt to assert that modern humans are 90 percent apes and 10 percent bees. Although elegant, the metaphor is misleading since the 1 percent, whereby homo sapiens differs from the pan lineages, do not amount to exactly those genes that can account for cumulative culture and complex moral communities (2012: xxii.234–36.255). Additionally, the comparison is illustrative (a resemblance already emphasized by Aristotle Hist. anim. IX 40.627a and Vergil Aen. I 430– 40; Georg. IV 156–68), but it is problematic because bees are bio-programmed for their social nature. Unlike collaborative eusocial animals like ants and bees, our ultrasociality is not bio-programmed (Turchin 2016: 15). Our propensity for groupishness has been imposed on us by a form of natural selection which has been working on our genes in such a way that our ability to engage in large-scale collaboration latched on to our emotional system and enabled us to partake in different forms of cumulative culture (Turner, et al. 2017). Joseph Henrich accentuates how we think of human biology in terms of genes, but biology involves more than genes and gene transmission. He asserts that “natural selection, acting on our genes, has shaped our psychology in a manner that generates nongenetic evolutionary processes capable of producing complex cultural adaptations. Culture, and cultural evolution, are then a consequence of genetically evolved psychological adaptations for learning from other people” (Henrich 2016: 34f.). The culture-gene coevolution ratchet has made us human (Henrich 2016: 58; cf. Tomasello 2014: 121), and been conducive to culture driving genetic evolution and not vice versa (Bowles and Gintis 2011: 13).

Biocultural Evolution The argument may appear estranging to the more traditionally minded scholars of late Second Temple Judaism, but there are good reasons for embarking on such

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theorizing. Whatever else early Christ-religion and the early letters are about, they have not least to do with group formation, cultural creation, dissemination, and preservation. Another obvious reason to engage in these matters is that the intellectual climate has changed. The emergence of cognitive science and its influence on evolutionary biology, moral psychology, anthropology, archaeology, primatology, paleontology, ethology, and the study of religion have made it inevitable for these fields to ignore questions pertaining to not only interactions between biology and culture but also cultural evolution. If cultural and biological interchanges are the norm rather than the exception, we better know something about selection mechanisms at the different levels. The influence from cognitive science also has made it unequivocally clear how untenable the continuity of what Snow dubbed the two cultures is (Snow 1959; cf. Deacon 2012: 12f.). Despite the problems relating to a steadily increasing wealth of knowledge, it is fallacious to pursue scholarship in the humanities and social sciences in isolation from insights from the natural sciences that have important ramifications on our thinking about culture, sociality, and humans. These developments force us to rethink time-honored problems in the humanities and social sciences. But rather than formulating the impetus to pay heed to this in a negative manner as something which we cannot allow ourselves to dispense with, I prefer a positive tenor. We can benefit considerably from these insights (Smail 2008: 8f.). One advantage that biocultural evolution may elicit for the humanities is to resume questions concerning cultural evolution, the relationship between biology and culture, group forging and group persistence.

Religion as Stabilizer By his notion of collective effervescence, Durkheim understood how social feelings are ephemeral and susceptible to fading away. As soon as the cultic gathering is over and people disperse by returning to daily life, the feeling evaporates. The only way to uphold it is by investing it with symbols. At this point religion enters.3 However, it may be meaningless to date it in exact evolutionary terms, since the phenomenon comprises various elements originating in different contexts. As such, religion is an impure concept, since it hardly can be explained by reference to one single phenomenon only. As we know from sports where similar experiences of collective effervescence occur, the experiences are often retained by means of emblematization. That is, sport teams are identified with strong symbols understood to represent the team’s totem. Thereby the experience from the stadium may be partly retained by directing

3. I understand religion with Jensen (2015: 8) as: “Semantic and cognitive networks comprising ideas, behaviours and institutions in relation to counter-intuitive superhuman agents, objects and posits.”

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one’s focus to the emblem. The same phenomenon is found in religion—whether expressed by objects and/or by linguistic labels—and it is likely that ritualization in conjunction with totemization provides the crucial elements for what eventually became religion, when seen from a third-order perspective. Turner and Maryanski have emphasized how there is a little step from chimpanzees’ capacity to represent their community’s ranging area in terms of knowing who belongs to it and who does not to the human ability of totemizing not only territory but also group (2008: 119). Rituals directed toward the emblem generate positive feelings that strengthen the emotional bonds toward group peers. Acts of reciprocal altruism occur within the group to those individuals who share same symbols. You help those with whom you share a totem because they can be trusted and, therefore, reckoned to reciprocate the actions which you do in favor of them. Alternatively, you risk becoming a victim of deception. When more complex forms of symbolization come into play, social cohesion may be further reinforced by establishing moral norms with a concomitant sanctioning system that rewards altruists and punishes free riders and cheaters. It is the human capacity for emblematizing collective organization and enacting rituals directed toward these symbols that have enabled humans to engage in the large-scale social structures that we know today and of which early Christ-religion is an example. Whereas archaic forms of early religion are based on a criterion of ethnicity, Axial age types of religion by virtue of the involved “totalitarian” claim to truth tend to transcend traditional ethnic divides. Although in practice they may often have remained ethnic, it would be odd to confine the teaching of, for example, Buddha, Lao-tse, Confucius, and Plato to particular ethnic groups only. The truth claim implied by Plato’s philosophy was not limited to affluent adult male Athenians only. De facto this may well have been so, but in terms of truth claims Plato’s philosophy is kosmic. The new type of religions also calls for novel ways of creating and upholding groups, since they are on the basis of their greater size more susceptible to dissolution. In hindsight, these religions were more adaptive to new social conditions marked by increased urbanization, enhanced density of populations, a greater mix of ethnic groups as well as emergence of considerably larger trans-ethnic empires: a fact witnessed by their spread and persistence. The changed socio-material conditions called for new ways of group formation, if cooperation were to happen in a way stabilizing the new social reality. I now return to Colossians. However important the “theological” argument of the letter is—and it is crucial—I hold that it should be understood as integral and subordinated to the attempt to preserve the culture at play and the social organization adhering to it. I do not surmise that the mechanisms discussed were accessible to the author, but rather than understanding the argument of the letter as primary as it is usually done, I think of it as a means to secure group cohesion and to preserve a culture at a critical period. Colossians testifies to a struggle between competing interpretations of Judaism at a time when it was an open question which interpretation and group would ultimately win the battle. In that situation, the author had recourse to an authority captured in the past to re-present his culture. He changed Paul to a contemporary voice in present struggle; but by summoning him from oblivion he also turned him into a traditionalist. He became

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the voice of an authoritative tradition that could be presently activated to protect a culture against fading away.

Traditionalization in Colossians When Weber formulated his three types of legitimate rulership or authority, he was keen to emphasize their ideal character (Borchart, Hanke, and Schluchter 2013: 455). The transition from a charismatic to a traditional Paul does not imply that every charismatic element disappeared. The difference between the two pertains to the fact that the legitimacy of traditional authority is founded on the sacredness of the previous order and power of the lordship (Borchart, Hanke, and Schluchter 2013: 468); but what does it imply for understanding the letter? The prescript does not differ significantly from the genuine letters. In terms of group forging and conveying the feeling of belongingness to the recipients, however, it is noticeable how Colossians emphasizes the addressees’ distinct nature. They are different from the rest of the world by being “holy and faithful brothers in Christ.” The emblematization of their sociality by Christ as a totem is further elaborated in the greeting in which the author creates a distinct family. Author and addressees are woven together by joint origin founded on kinship metaphors. Proceeding to the prooemium, interesting changes occur when compared with the authentic letters. The two crucial emblems from the prescript are emphatically repeated by adding that Christ is also shared by recipients and author (1:4a). The gratitude is directed toward the recipients who upon hearing about “Paul’s” unceasing positive feeling (πάντοτε περὶ ὑμῶν προσευχόμενοι) are likely to become strengthened in their sense of group belongingness. They are lauded for their faithfulness in Christ and love toward all the holy ones founded on the hope laid up for them in heaven (1:4f.). Apart from repeating three central notions (πίστις, ἀγάπη, and οἱ ἅγιοι) of the prescript and thereby enforcing the importance of these values, the author accentuates a cosmic counterpart to the audience’s behavior, something subsequently elaborated upon christologically and serving to endow the recipients with the impression of the unshakability of their worldview: a safe ground anchored in tradition: “Of this you have heard before in the word of the truth, the gospel, which has come to you.” The emphasis placed on the gospel as the word of truth similarly accentuates the solidity of the tradition. It is both vertically founded in the past and has a horizontal extension across the world (ἐν παντὶ τῷ κόσμῳ).

A Letter to Colossae or Laodicea? There is an important eisagogical matter to settle. Formally the letter is addressed to “the holy and faithful in Colossae,” but Colossae was annihilated by earthquake in 61/62 CE. So why add to the pseudepigraphic dimension by construing a letter to a nonexistent community? There is one obvious answer. Given the role Laodicea—

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geographically neighboring Colossae—plays through the letter (2:1; 4:13, 15f.), I surmise that Colossians was really meant for this community (Lindemann 1983: 12f.). By sending the Laodiceans an “indirect” letter from Paul formally addressed to the extinct community of Colossae, pressure is put on them to emulate the Colossians in dissociating themselves from the false teaching present in their community but retrojected to a “traditional” teaching allegedly also found in former Colossae. There is an important rejoinder to this interpretation. Recently an Australian team led by Cadwallader has been excavating in Colossae. One important conclusion is that Colossae was rebuilt soon after the earthquake which according to Tacitus hit the Lycus Valley around 61/62 CE (Ann. 14.27; cf. Eusebius Chron. §210). Inasmuch as this interpretation is correct, it challenges my argument, since it rests on the assumption that Colossae was not rebuilt until the second century (Cadwallader and Trainor 2011, and Cadwallader 2011: 170–75). However, there is no smoking gun in the argument as no clear evidence has been found for a reconstruction of Colossae prior to the early second century (Cadwallader 2011: 170). Only if indisputable evidence can be dated to the decades following immediately after the earthquake, my understanding falters. Pseudepigraphic Paul neither pretends to have founded the Colossian community nor to have visited it (2:1). It has been established by his “beloved fellow servant Epaphras” (1:7), who similar to the recipients has been loyal. Epaphras’s faithfulness took place on their behalf, and to Paul he has made “their love in the spirit known” (1:8). As a reward for their action, Paul has ceaselessly prayed on their behalf (cf. 1:4’s use of πάντοτε προσευχόμενοι). The injunctions to “bear fruit in every good work and to grow in knowledge and be strengthened by the glory of his might in all endurance and patience” (1:11) connects with the subsequent passage in which Paul speaks of his sufferings on behalf of the addressees (1:24– 2:5). Endurance and patience will eventually be rewarded.

Rootedness in Christ Resuming the vertical metaphor, Paul enjoins his recipients to give thanks to God as father who has made them capable of obtaining “share in the call of the holy ones in light (εἰς τὴν μερίδα τοῦ κλῆρου τῶν ἁγίων ἐν τῷ φωτί)” (1:12). Simultaneous with their thanking God, the addressees reciprocate the gratitude received from Paul and Timothy (1:4) as well as Paul and Epaphras (1:9). Christfollowers have been liberated from the “power of darkness and been transferred to the kingdom of his beloved son” (1:13) in whom they have achieved redemption expressed in the forgiveness of sins (1:14). Their translocation to the holy ones, however, is a future event dependent on their behavior and thinking in the phase of actualization eventually to be completed by God’s sanctioning.4

4. Without discussing it, I think within the French semiotic tradition that as humans we structure our world narratively by understanding our relationships to others based on

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The notions of redemption and forgiveness are grounded in a hymnic depiction of Christ, emphasizing the unshakable and firm nature of what has been said. The rhetoric of Colossians, thereby, instantiates its own solidity by making claims on firmness and solidness. Christ is cosmically prior to everything and cosmos is entirely subordinate to him. This also pertains to “thrones or dominions, rulers or authorities,” which lexically prefigures the author’s criticism of the Colossians for engaging in self-invented worship of angelic powers and submission to earthly regulations (2:18-23). All things hold together in him (καὶ τὰ πάντα ἐν αὐτῷ συνέστηκεν) just as he is head of the body of the church (1:17b-18a). This cosmic counterpart serves to ground the exhortation to the recipients in such a way that they should confide in the firmness of their salvation and remain steadfast in their faithfulness to God’s action in Christ. As pagans “they were once alienated and enemies in mind conducting evil deeds” (1:21), but God has reconciled himself with them in Christ to present them as “holy and blameless and irreproachable before him” (1:22). However, this depends on their faithfulness (εἴ γε ἐπιμένετε τῇ πίστει), “founded firmly and steadfast and immovable from the gospel” (τεθεμελιωμένοι καὶ ἑδραῖοι καὶ μὴ μετακινούμενοι, 1:23) which they have heard. Once again, the unshakability of the worldview is emphasized and held to be cosmically grounded, since it has been preached in all creation under heaven. The loyalty called for toward God should, therefore, also be directed toward his Paul. The subsequent depiction of his sufferings and fight on behalf of the Colossians functions to not only accentuate his conformity with Christ but also direct the recipients’ obligation toward him. People emotionally bound together are more likely to follow shared values. Through his sufferings Paul’s body is conformed to Christ whose body again is metaphorically identified with the body of the church (1:24): the emblem of the group. Emphatically, Paul’s commission is underlined in such a way that it also becomes a special vocation to the Colossians (1:24f.). Thus, the letter constitutes its own contract between the pseudo-Pauline author and its recipients. Only inasmuch as they during the phase of actualization observe the obligations outlined by the letter, they will be sanctioned among the holy ones of light.

Groundedness in Christ The addressees are rhetorically privileged by being said through Paul’s letter to have gained access to “the mystery hidden before ages and generations, but now revealed to his holy ones” (1:26). They are favored by having achieved insight into Christ as the “mystery” expressed in pagans’ access to have become part of God’s glory (1:27). The subsequent passage resumes this idea of the mystery by underscoring how Christ embodies it, but it also strengthens the bonds between Paul, the Colossians, and the actual Laodicean recipients of the letter. Although

a tripartite contractual pattern segmented into the stages: virtualization, actualization, and finalization.

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Paul has never met them in person, he has been fighting a difficult contest (ἡλίκος ἀγῶν, 2:1) on their behalf in order to console them.5 This consolation has bound them together (συμβιβασθέντες) in love and to reach “all richness in fullness of certainty of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery which is Christ” (2:2). Words piled upon words, but the meaning is clear. Due to Paul, the addressees have not only been further strengthened in emotional closeness to each other but they have also been granted privileged insight into knowledge otherwise concealed: “In him all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are hidden” (2:3). Obviously, this places the transmitter and the letter as the medium of the hidden knowledge in a privileged situation, since he/it is the one who can grant access to this veiled wisdom. The accentuation of the recipients’ favored knowledge should prevent them from falling victim to specious argument (πιθανολογία, 2:4). Despite his physical absence, Paul reassures them how on the basis of his spiritual presence he is certain of “their order (τάξις) and firmness (στερέωμα) of their faithfulness in Christ” (2:5). It is really close to the author’s heart to convince the addressees of their rootedness in Christ. This groundedness will serve as rhetorical basis for making the recipients distance themselves from the rivaling interpretation and adhere to the author’s Christ-understanding. Col. 2:6-15 further underlines their belonging to Christ. Since they are rooted (ἐρριζωμένοι), built up in him (ἐποικοδούμενοι), established in faithfulness (βεβαιούμενοι), and abounding in thanksgiving, they should walk in him. This grounding in Christ is founded on tradition. The encouragement to walk in him is substantiated by their reception (ὡς οὖν παρελάβετε) of Christ lord, just as their establishment in faithfulness is motivated by what they have previously learned (καθὼς ἐδιδάχθητε). The firmness of tradition should inhibit them from being captivated by enticing human and mundane philosophy (2:8). The cosmic Christ makes the idea of other powers absurd, since the whole fullness of deity bodily inhabits him (2:9). This fullness also involves the Colossians, since they have become filled in him who is head over all rule and authority (cf. the previous uses of body language and emphasis on Christ as head of the church).

The Colossian/Laodicean “Heresy” To make his point, the author has recourse to the recipients’ baptism. This constituted the time at which they were forgiven their trespasses “by nailing the record of debt making legal claims on them to the cross.” Simultaneously, the rulers and authorities were disarmed by being publically shown, when God led them in triumphal march in Christ (2:15). The repeated emphasis on the inferiority and disarmament of the worldly powers enables the author to warn the addressees

5. For the use of the ἀγῶν-motif and its relationship to Stoic ideas about the suffering sage, see Fitzgerald (1988).

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against the rivaling Christ-understanding that has found favor in the community. It is not clear in what the “heretical” practices and thinking precisely consist, but surely it involves dietary and other ritual practices as well as angelic worship which the author holds incongruent with Christ-religion (2:16, 18a). The competing form of Christ-religion detaches itself from “Christ as the head and from whom the whole body, nourished and knit together through its joints and ligaments, who grows with a growth that is from God” (2:19). This renewed cosmically bodily founded injunction is fortified by another reminder to the recipients’ baptismal death as from the powers of the world. Again, the criticism consists in arguing that the addressees’ interpretation is transient (ἐις φθορὰν) and that it rests on human precepts and teachings (2:22). The practices relating to the alternative Christunderstanding are only seeming wisdom (2:23, cf. 2:18). The remaining part of the letter does not return to the specific criticism against these apparent abuses. Therefore, it is difficult to form a clear impression of what is at stake. Only scarce and unprecise information is given, but three elements stand out. The “heresy” involves dietary observations, adherence to Jewish feasts, and angelic worship. Far from providing a reasoned criticism of these elements the pseudo-Pauline author repudiates them by declaring them earthly human inventions and therefore contrary to God. The subsequent paraenesis is general and resumes the idea of Christ-adherents’ obligation to direct their mind toward the heavenly world rather than the earthly,6 but seemingly there is no continuity with the preceding critique. All we know is that a number of stock-Jewish elements are at play. Traditionally this has led scholars to conclude that Colossians exemplifies a stage at which Christ-religion had parted ways with Judaism. I think the view is wrong, since it is neither capable of accounting for the “Jewish” attraction in the alleged Colossian heretical practices, nor is it able to render the letter’s Jewish worldview understandable. It is significant, though, that Colossians avoids the term “Israel” to designate the Christ-community, but that said, it is worth remarking the repeated claim that the mystery of Christ not least consists in pagans’ access to have become among the holy ones (cf. 1:12, 21f., 27).

Injunctions Concerning Ultrasocial Behavior In 3:1-11 the author weaves the previous metaphor about the mystery of Christ together with a renewed metaphorization of baptism. Baptism involved a raise with Christ. Therefore, the audience should seek the things above, which happens to be the location of Christ with the father. They should direct their minds toward

6. There is a tradition for confining the paraenesis to 3–4, but by isolating it to these chapters one misses the relationship to 1–2, just as one makes the understanding of paraenesis too rigid by confining it to distinct injunctions on virtues and vices only. Cf. Popkes (2004: 23f.).

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the things above (τὰ ἄνω φρονεῖτε) contrary to earthly ones (3:1f.). As Christ is conceived as a mystery, the recipients’ life remains hidden with him in God despite the fact that they have already undergone baptismal death. Inasmuch as their lives are revealed to be identical with Christ, they shall eventually achieve the future manifestation in glory (φανερωθήσεσθε ἐν δόξῃ, cf. 1:12). Again, the premise for the future positive sanctioning depends on their thinking and practice during the phase of actualization: a fact underlined by the exhortations to put to death those earthly members cleaving to the earth. The paraenesis—marked by verse 5’s use of the οὖν- paraeneticum (EngbergPedersen 2004 and Petersen 2004: 269–71)—comprises traditional vices encapsulated under the main rubric of idolatry (εἰδωλολατρία). They exemplify an antisocial nature leading to group corrosion and are said to provoke the anger of God upon the sons of disobedience.7 The subsequent use of the paraenetic pattern ὅτε-νῦν (prefigured by the implicit use of the same structure in 2:12f.) serves again to make the irretrievable character of the recipients’ transition clear to them (3:7f.). As pagans they committed these vices, but due to their baptism and the involved putting off the old man8 and dressing in the new one, they have been enabled to let go of these and other group-corrosive iniquities like anger, wrath, malice, slander, and shameless language (3:8). The fact that in baptism addressees have put on a new man has endowed them with a new mind “renewed in knowledge after the image of the creator” (3:10; Petersen 2002: 426–31).9 The reappearance of the motifs of creator and Christ as firstborn of all creation and head of the church from 1:15-20 to 2:10 conduces the author to emphasize the Christ-community’s kosmo-politan nature. Neither ethnic (Greek-Jewish, barbarian-Scythian), nor ritual (circumcision-not circumcision), nor social differences (slave-free) are crucial in relation to Christ’s all-embracing nature. He is all in all (3:11b). Needless to say, this does not make Christ-religion as has often been argued identical with modern ideas about universalism and indifference to ethnic, ritual, and social differentiations. The point is that paganism per se is no inhibition to become part of the Christ group as a new Israel, but the ethnic designator remains (Johnson 2007). Subsequent to rejecting the vices as congruent with life in Christ, Colossians lists the virtues to dominate Christ-followers (3:12-17). Resuming the notions from the prescript and prooemium, the addressees as God’s chosen ones and holy and beloved (cf. 1:2,4,8) are called upon to put on altruistic virtues of deep compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, and bear over with one another. They

7. The designation “sons of disobedience” does not appear in P46 or manuscripts F and G, but given the beginning of the subsequent sentence, ἐν οἷς καὶ ὑμεῖς, it is difficult to envisage the omission of the object of the anger. 8. Similar to my translation of τὰ ἔθνη as “pagans” I strive to retain the values (sometimes negative) corollary with the ancient Jewish symbolic world, hence “man” and not “human” for ἄνθρωπος. 9. For the importance of knowledge in connection with actualization, see Petersen (2011: 30f.).

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should also forgive by the model Christ has set before them (3:12f.). Love should dominate their behavior toward each other and the peace of Christ should rule the community to which they were called by the one body (3:15). Again, the body metaphor impregnates the audience with the idea of the firmness and unshakable nature of the culture into which they have been incorporated. Interestingly enough and in continuity with my emphasis on traditionalization, the recipients are called to maintain the culture by transmitting it in teaching defined by wisdom and mutual strengthening in mind, by singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs (3:16). As Christ should dwell richly in them (3:16a), they should do everything relating to word and deed in the name of Jesus and thereby give thanks to God through him (3:17). The premise, of course, remains that this is a prerequisite for their future belongingness among the holy ones of light— something also expressed in the subsequent house order (3:18–4:1).

Praying as a Reciprocal Collaborative Network The last chapter enjoins the addressees to engage in a strong prayer network. “Paul” calls them to continue steadfast in prayer and be watchful in it by giving thanks (4:2). Just as we have seen how the author underlines how he has been praying on behalf of the recipients (1:3, 9), it is fair that they reciprocate this in prayer on behalf of Paul and his coworkers. They should pray for the continued success of the mission (4:3b) consisting in the dissemination of the mystery of Christ (cf. 1:26f; 2:2) for which Paul has been imprisoned that he may make it clear in a way appropriate to it (4:4). The reciprocal praying serves to bind the addressees and author together in the culture emblematized by God and Christ as prayer recipients. The same relates to the subsequent exchange of greetings. The promise to send Tychicus as a “beloved brother, faithful minister, and co-servant in the Lord” as well as Onesimus “as a faithful and beloved brother who is one of you” together with the greetings further strengthens the mutual bonds. They are part of a network persisting by continuous exchanges. The author also sends greetings from another co-servant Aristarchus and a certain Mark, cousin of Barnabas. This Mark has apparently been mentioned previously as the recipients are said already to have received instructions pertaining to his future visit (4:10). Tychichus, Onesimus, Aristarch, Mark, and a certain Justus called Jesus are emphasized as circumcised and as Paul’s only coworkers for the kingdom of God. Finally, “Paul” sends the Colossians greeting from their founder, Epaphras, who is likewise struggling in prayers on their behalf. The fact that Colossae was destroyed around 61 CE and not rebuilt until the second century together with the thrice mentioning of Laodicea in the conclusion conduces me to think that the Laodicean Christ-community was the actual recipient of the letter. This cannot be proven, but it would account for a pseudepigraphic letter addressed to the community of Colossae at a time, when it no longer existed. Finally, the Colossians are enjoined to ensure that the letter is read aloud in Laodicea subsequent to their own reading of it (4:16). In conclusion, they are

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admonished to tell Archippus to ensure that the ministry he has received in the Lord is fulfilled, before Paul can finish off the letter by exhorting the addressees to remember his chains and send them a blessing (4:18).

Jewishness, Traditionalization, and Cultural Persistence Whatever else Colossians is about, it is as much concerned with social maintenance as cultural preservation. The emphasis I place on this may appear odd, but it is a key to unlock the letter’s pseudepigraphy as a pseudo-Pauline letter stemming from a period after Paul’s death. The addressees, however, are also part of a fabrication. Colossae was destroyed by earthquake in 61/62 CE. Inasmuch as the letter uses Paul as an authority, it partakes in the traditionalization of Paul by turning him into a past figure. Superficially, the Colossian Paul is remarkably similar to the authentic letters’ charismatic Paul; but something has happened. Paul is no longer apostle to specific communities founded by him, but the apostle par excellence to the entire world revealing the mystery of Christ consisting in pagans’ access to become among the holy ones. At a time at which the culture-carrying figures of early Christ-religion had passed away and the movement was facing a problem of authority, Colossians re-presents past Paul to turn him into a present authority. This is done by fabricating a letter to an extinct community. Paul, recollected from the past, could be activated as authority in present struggles against a rivaling form of Christ-religion that for Colossians is incompatible with true Christ-religion. Colossians’s masterstroke lies in activating Paul to dance to its tune. There is nothing un-Jewish about letter or the recipients’ purported “heresy.” They are representative of different currents within Christ-religion of late firstcentury Judaism. The symbols used and the letter’s structure of thought were as ingrained in Judaism as they were simultaneously part and parcel of the greater Mediterranean world. Colossians exemplifies Axial age type of religion. It may well be that the rivaling form of Christ-religion was more archaic in nature, but given the scanty and unprecise information about it, it is difficult to tell. The letter testifies to an interesting endeavor in cultural and social preservation at a point in time in which its author considered it threatened. To stabilize it he had recourse to Paul in whose name he instantiated his attempt of preserving what he understood as Pauline culture. Hence, there is a strong circularity at play. Paul is used to reinforce a culture which has Paul dance to its tune. The two reciprocally strengthen each other. Colossians uses metaphors which underline the unshakable nature and firm grounding of the worldview and the recipients’ belongingness to it. There can, allegedly, be no doubt about its veracity, since it is cosmically substantiated in Christ as head and firstborn of all creation, so the argument. Inasmuch as one shares the emblematizations and adopts the positive emotions conveyed to the addressees and directed toward these emblems, one has to approve of the argument and partake in group-altruistic behavior—so the idea underlying the rhetorical attempt to stabilize the culture at play in the letter.

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References Assmann, J. (2003), Die mosaische Unterscheidung oder der Preis des Monotheismus, München: Carl Hanser Verlag. Assmann, J. (2005), “Axial ‘Breakthroughs’ and Semantic ‘Relocations’ in Ancient Egypt and Israel,” in J. P. Arnason, S. N. Eisenstadt, and B. Wittrock (eds.), Axial Civilizations and World History, Jerusalem Studies in Religion and Culture 4, 133–156, Leiden: Brill. Borchart, K., E. Hanke, and W. Schluchter, eds (2013), Max Weber Gesamt-Ausgabe, Band I/23, Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Bowles, S., and H. Gintis (2011), A Cooperative Species: Human Reciprocity and Its Evolution, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Cadwallader, A. H. (2011), “Refuting an Axiom of Scholarship: Fresh Insights from New and Old Inscriptions,” in A. H. Cadwallader and M. Trainor (eds.), Colossae in Space and Time. Linking to an Ancient City, Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus/ Studien zum Umwelt des Neuen Testaments 94, 151–179, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Cadwallader, A. H., and M. Trainor, eds (2011), Colossae in Space and Time. Linking to an Ancient City, Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus/Studien zum Umwelt des Neuen Testaments, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Deacon, T. (2012), Incomplete Nature: How Mind Emerged from Matter, London: W. W. Norton. Durkheim, É. (2007), Les Formes élémentaires de la vie religieuse, Paris: CNRS éditions. Engberg-Pedersen, T. (2004), “The Concept of Paraenesis,” in J. Starr and T. EngbergPedersen (eds.), Early Christian Paraenesis in Context, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neuetestamentliche Wissenschaft 125, 47–72, Berlin: De Gruyter. Fitzgerald, J. T. (1988), Cracks in an Earthen Vessel: An Examination of the Catalogues of Hardship in the Corinthian Correspondence, Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 99, Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Haidt, J. (2012), The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion, London: Penguin. Hallbäck, G. (1996), “The Earthly Jesus. The Gospel Genre and Types of Authority,” in G. A. Jónsson, E. Sigurdbjörnson, and P. Pétursson (eds.), The New Testament in Its Hellenistic Context. Proceedings of a Nordic Conference of New Testament Scholars, held in Skálholt, 135–145, Reykjavík: Háskóli Íslands. Hallbäck, G. (1999), “Den fortidige Jesus. Om evangelierne og Acta som historieskrivning,” in G. Hallbäck and J. Strange (eds.), Bibel og historieskrivning, Forum for Bibelsk Eksegese 10, 186–199, Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum. Hallbäck, G. (2010), Det nye Testamente—En lærebog, Frederiksberg: Anis. Henrich, J. (2016), The Secret of Our Success. How Culture Is Driving Human Evolution Domesticating Our Species and Making Us Smarter, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Jensen, J. S. (2015), What is Religion?, London: Routledge. Johnson, C. H. (2007), If Sons, Then Heirs. A Study of Kinship and Ethnicity in the Letters of Paul, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kelber, W. (1983), The Oral and the Written Gospel, Philadelphia: Fortress Press. Lindemann, A. (1983), Der Kolosserbrief, Züricher Bibel 10, Zürich: Theologischer Verlag. MacDonald, M. Y. (1988), The Pauline Churches. A Socio-historical Study of Institutionalization in the Pauline and Deutero-Pauline Writings, Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series 60, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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MacDonald, M. Y. (2000), Colossians and Ephesians, Sacra Pagina Series 17, Collegeville: The Liturgical Press. Petersen, A. K. (2002), “Wisdom as Cognition: Creating the Others in Book of Mysteries and 1 Cor 1 and 2,” in C. Hempel, A. Lange, and H. Lichtenberger (eds.), The Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of Sapiential Thought, Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium 159, 405–32, Sterling: Peeters. Petersen, A. K. (2004), “Paraenesis in Pauline Scholarship and in Paul—an Intricate Relationship,” in J. Starr and T. Engberg-Pedersen (eds.), Early Christian Paraenesis in Context, BZNW 125, 268–95, Berlin: De Gruyter. Petersen, A. K. (2011), “Rituals of Purifications, Rituals of Initiation. Phenomenological, Taxonomical and Culturally Evolutionary Reflections,” in D. Hellholm, T. Vegge, Ø. Nordeval, and C. Hellholm (eds.), Ablution, Initiation, and Baptism. Late Antiquity, Early Judaism, and Early Christianity, vol. I, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neuetestamentliche Wissenschaft 176/1, 3–40, Berlin: De Gruyter. Petersen, A. K. (2017a), “Platonic Philosophy – Why not just Plato’s Religion,” in A. K. Petersen and George v. K. (eds.), Ancient Religion and Philosophy and Their Interactions, 9–36, Leiden: Brill. Petersen, A. K. (2017b), “Philosophy, Religion, and Their Interactions in Fourth Maccabees: Wie Alles sich zum Ganzen Webt, Eins in dem Anderen wirkt und lebt,” in A. K. Petersen and George v. K. (eds.), Ancient Religion and Philosophy and Their Interactions, 126–158, Leiden: Brill. Petersen, A. K. (2018a), “Unveiling the Obvious: Synagogue and Church—Sisters or Different Species?” in Wisdom Poured out like Water. Studies on Jewish and Christian Antiquity in Honor of Gabriele Boccaccini, J. H. Ellens, I. W. Oliver, J. von Ehrenkrook, J. Waddell, and J. Zurawski (eds.), Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature Studies, Berlin: De Gruyter. Petersen, A. K. (2018b), “Zur Zeit wird hier das Raum: A Cultural Evolutionary Perspective on Paul and Religion as Epitomised by His Letters,” in G. v. d. Heever (ed.), Spatialising Practices, Leiden, Brill—forthcoming. Popkes, W. (2004), “Paraenesis in the New Testament,” in J. Starr and T. EngbergPedersen (eds.), Early Christian Paraenesis in Context, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neuetestamentliche Wissenschaft 125, 13–46, Berlin: De Gruyter. Smail, D. L. (2008), On Deep History and the Brain, Los Angeles: University of California Press. Snow, C. P. (1959), The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution, London: Cambridge University Press. Tomasello, M. (2014), A Natural History of Human Thinking, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Turchin, P. (2016), Ultrasociality: How 10,000 Years of War Made Humans the Greatest Cooperators on Earth, Chaplin: Beresta. Turner, J., A. Maryanski, A. Geertz, and A. K. Petersen (2017), On the Origin and Evolution of Religion: By Means of Natural Selection, London: Routledge. Turner, J. H. and A. Maryanski (2008), On the Origins of Societies by Natural Selection, London: Paradigm.

Chapter 6 THE SHADOW AND THE SUBSTANCE: EARLY RECEPTION OF PAUL THE JEW IN THE LETTER TO THE COLOSSIANS James Waddell

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave (Republic VII 514 a 2–517 a 7) is a staple of Western philosophical tradition. Even the marginally literate have a vague awareness of it, whether they know the details or what those details mean. In a nutshell, those who have managed to live in the light of the world of ideas assist those who are shackled to the world of shadows to leave their chains behind and emerge to live as complete human beings in their own right, no longer to be manipulated by the orchestrations of others in power who also live in and control the world of shadows. And yet, those who are shackled to the world of shadows are inclined not to believe, but do violence to, the one who has returned from the light to persuade them to free themselves. The letter to the Colossians is a small piece of that Western tradition shaped by Platonism, and it may be the indulgence of fantasy to suggest that this letter was also influenced by Plato’s Allegory. Colossians is not to be read, however, without some awareness of its contemporary cultural and philosophical context. The letter was written in a period labeled by scholars as Middle Platonism, dating roughly from the first century BCE to the third century CE (Witt 2013; Dillon 1996; Berchman 1985). An examination of the reception and development of Paul’s thought in the letter to the Colossians warrants some consideration of the identity of the Colossian philosophy, to be understood in this Hellenistic, Roman milieu of Middle Platonism (DeMaris 1994: 98–133). The Colossian philosophy has been identified as Gnosticism, Judaism, Jewish mysticism, Judaizing Platonism, and several other intriguing suggestions. The text of Colossians indicates a philosophical tradition rooted in a Hellenistic background. Gilbert Murray characterized Hellenism as “the period of the failure of nerve” (Murray 1955: 123–72). It was a time of great spiritual and personal turmoil for the individual. The expansion of Roman imperium eastward in the second and first centuries BCE only would have added to the complexity of this angst of the individual and crisis of personal identity, particularly in Asia Minor where the syncretism of Greek religion and local cultic traditions was common.

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The widespread maneuvering of political forces made territorial and national instability a commonplace. Eduard Lohse described the religious conditions of the period in terms of “overpowering forces against which one could not assert oneself.”1 In the Hellenistic period εἱμαρμένη (“fate”) and ἀνάγκη (“force” or “necessity”) were generally believed to be two inescapable forces that denied humans the freedom they desired; a sort of fatalism that one could only submit to and then do one’s best in this life to attempt to work oneself into the best possible position against all odds. This was perceived by many to be a maddeningly impossible situation, which is why it was described by Murray as “the period of the failure of nerve.” One might even consider Sophocles’s fifth-century tragedy, Oedipus Tyrannus, to be an example of a sort of predecessor along the intellectual trajectory toward Hellenistic fatalism, with its rhetorical emphasis on the inability of human beings to control (κρατεῖν) their own destiny. A Greek philosophical environment is suggested by the language of Colossians. Eduard Schweizer identified a Pythagorean text with very close similarities of language and thought to Colossians 2. “There is a most interesting text from the first century B.C., in which almost all the motifs which we find in Colossians 2 appear” (Schweizer 1976: 251; Diels 1954: 448.33ff.; Diog. Laert. VIII.24ff.). In this Pythagorean text Diogenes Laërtius, quoting Alexander Polyhistor, reports that one Pythagorean characteristic involved a series of antitheses, for example, “up/ down” (καὶ τὰ ἡμῖν κάτω ἐκείνοις ἄνω) and “light/darkness” (φῶς καὶ σκότος). In Col. 1:12f. those saints who have been redeemed “by the light” (ἐν τῷ φωτί) are contrasted with the “authority of darkness” (τῆς ἐξουσίας τοῦ σκότους). And in Col. 3:2 the author encouraged the Colossians to “think about the things above, not the things on the earth” (τὰ ἄνω φρονεῖτε, μὴ τὰ ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς). In the Pythagorean text τὰ στοιχεῖα (cf. Col. 2:8, 20) are referred to as the physical Empedoclean elements: fire, water, earth, and air, which combine to form κόσμον ἔμψυχον, the animate universe (Diog. Laert. VIII.25). Here the animate force of nature as εἱμαρμένη or “fate” is that which gives the στοιχεῖα (fire, water, earth, and air) to order all things both individually and as a whole. This εἱμαρμένη, which brings order to the στοιχεῖα, also together with ἀνάγκη was thought to render the fate of human beings uncertain, and thereby became a force

1. See Lohse (1986b: 233–44): “Superstitions and notions of fate, the yearning for miracles, and fascination with astrology and magic, all of which found numerous adherents in the Hellenistic period, make it evident that people were in the throes of deep anxiety and uncertainty about life. Threatened by powers and demons, by illnesses and unforeseen strokes of fate, one lived in suspense and fear and felt subject to overpowering forces against which one could not assert oneself. People strove, through all sorts of practices and precautionary measures, to arm and protect themselves against fate. The question of how to escape a dismal turn of events or to liberate oneself from fear required an answer. This answer was given to them by the mystery religions, which promised deliverance to man, by offering him a saving power that afforded resistance to suffering and even to death” (Ryholt 2003: 175–76; Lewis 2013: 88ff.).

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with which the Hellenistic world felt the need to contend, and now by extension the Colossians subjugated by the Romans in the period of Middle Platonism and all the insecurities attending the pressures of conforming to a forced Romanitas (Diog. Laert. VIII.27; Jonas 1963: 43). There is a transcendence and immortality spoken of in the Pythagorean text. The soul is distinct from life; it is immortal since it comes from immortal aether (διαφέρειν τε ψυχὴν ζωῆς, ἀθάνατον τ΄ εἶναι αὐτὴν) (Diog. Laert. VIII.28). There is a sharp dualistic distinction between matter and spirit. The author of Colossians made clear the non-dualistic, non-docetic nature of Christ’s person and work by referring to Christ’s body and flesh in hendiadys (Col. 1:22: ἐν τῷ σώματι τῆς σαρκὸς αὐτοῦ διὰ τοῦ θανάτου). “Angel” worship is referred to in the Pythagorean text. “All the air is filled with souls, and these are called daimones and heroes” (Diog. Laert. VIII.32). They are intermediate beings of the air, beings who in their final transmigration were impeded in their journey because they had not reached purity of soul, and so could not approach the purest element aether. “And for them (δαίμονάς τε καὶ ἥρωας) are made purifications and lustrations, all divination and omens, and the like” (Diog. Laert. VIII.32). On this Col. 2:18 comes to bear where the author of the letter refers to the worship of angels (θρησκείᾳ τῶν ἀγγέλων). Further similarity of language between the Pythagorean text and Colossians is in the use of ἅπτεσθαι (Col. 2:21). The word was used with reference to prohibitions of certain foods in order to maintain sacred separation between the gods and human beings. The context of Colossians 2 may indicate such a prohibition. On the other hand, there is another side (more negative) to such dietary prohibitions. “And Aristotle said in his Concerning the Pythagoreans that he [Pythagoras] instructed others to refrain from beans because they are like genitals, or because they are like the gates of Hades” (Diog. Laert. VIII.34). Whether an element such as this may be ascertained in the meaning of ἅπτεσθαι in Col. 2:21 is not clear. The accumulation of the various pieces of evidence should probably not be dismissed. If such a connotation is to be attributed to Colossians it is as well possibly derived from Jewish dietary restrictions which may have had some influence at Colossae, or as is more likely the case, it refers to a combination of Neopythagorean and Jewish practice. The use of the terms δόγμα and δογματίζεσθαι at 2:14 and 2:20 may provide further evidence for language and thought affinities between the Colossian philosophy and Pythagoreanism. Schweizer argued that “the use of the term δόγματα instead of ἐντολαί (or νόμος) for the commandments to be observed would be consistent with the usage in the writings of contemporary Pythagoreans” (Schweizer 1976: 254). The Pythagorean text reads: φησὶ δὲ καὶ ’Αριστόξενος τὰ πλεῖστα τῶν ἠθικῶν δογμάτων λαβεῖν τὸν Πυθαγόραν παρὰ Θεμιστοκλείας τῆς ἐν Δελφοῖς.2 This would also possibly indicate a move in a direction away from

2. Diels I, 97.23 = Diog. Laert. VIII.8; see also Diels I, 100.41 = Porphyr. V. Pyth. 18; Diels I, 191.26 = Iambl. V.P. 226; Diels I, 464.1; 466.31.

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Paul, who was essentially consistent in his use of ἐντολαί (commandments) and νόμος (law) in his letters with reference to the prescriptions and teachings of Jewish law. The use of δόγμα, in fact, never appears in the undisputed letters of Paul. Schweizer pointed to the fact that there was a “Jewish Pythagoreanism in existence in the early second century BCE in Alexandria” (Schweizer 1976: 249). Schweizer (1976: 249) cites Hengel (1974: 245; cf. also 166ff.), who made an interesting connection between Pythagoras, Orpheus, and the Law of Moses. According to Aristobulus, Pythagoras and Orpheus had been taught by Moses’s law. And here, according to Hengel, is the source of Pythagorean speculation about the number seven and the Jewish Sabbath. This may explain the presence of σαββάτων in the polemic of Col. 2:16, although it is highly conjectural, relying on the evidence of a source (Aristobulus) who lived centuries removed from Pythagoras. Hicks indicates the extensive influence Pythagoreanism had in the first century BCE. “Between Alexander Polyhistor in the first century B.C. and the threshold of the third century A.D. there had been an enormous increase in neoPythagorean literature, mostly dealing with mystical properties of numbers and with ethics based upon theology” (Diog. Laert. VIII.24: p. 341, n. a). Schweizer presents evidence for a connection between the lists of five vices and virtues in Colossians and how the number five held significance for the Pythagorean teaching on symphony.3 On the basis of this evidence, Schweizer maintained the presence of cosmic speculation and Pythagorean ethics in Colossians 3. One of the central points of interpretation around which there are obvious differences of opinion is the phrase τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ of Col. 2:8, 20. Does this phrase refer to the inanimate, fundamental teachings of the “philosophy,” or to the animate, daemonic, spiritual forces behind those fundamental teachings? Answers to this question usually divide along the lines of understanding the Colossian philosophy as either “Gnostic” or some other characterization. In his nineteenth-century commentary, J. B. Lightfoot presented his classic excursus on the Colossian philosophy. He observed the presence of two elements in the philosophy: Judaism and theosophic speculation. He argued that these elements combined to form a Judaeo-Gnostic heresy (Lightfoot 1981: 73–133).

3. Schweizer (1976: 251f.): “That we are on the right track is, perhaps, shown by the puzzling fact that we find in Colossians 3:5, 8, 12 three lists of five vices or virtues. Even more puzzling is the description of the first five vices as ‘members which are still on the earth,’ and the whole imagery of ‘putting off the old man with his deeds’ or ‘putting on the new man,’ interpreted as ‘putting on’ the five virtues. The number five is rather central in Pythagorean speculations. It plays a role in their doctrine of symphony (Diels I, 110.12; 410.2; 429.12, 24, 26). It appears in a cryptic remark of Empedocles about the ‘five wells’ (369.14). Above all, five is the number of the elements or forms out of which everything has come into being (108.21; 412.16; 440.13). . . . That there are in Colossians 3 constantly five vices and fives [sic] virtues—a fact up to now is only explicable from Manichean texts of the third century A.D. or later—may point to a Pythagorean background in which cosmic speculation had already been ethicized.”

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Lightfoot interpreted τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ as “the rudiments, the elementary teaching.” He argued that the context does not allow for an interpretation of the phrase as animate spirit beings, but “the context suggests some mode of instruction, e.g., τὴν παράδοσιν τῶν ἀνθρώπων here, and δογματίζεσθε in ver. 20.” He quoted Clement and Tertullian for support, although he conceded that “a large number of the fathers however explained the expression to refer to the heavenly bodies (called στοιχεῖα), as marking the seasons, so that the observance of ‘festivals and new-moons and sabbaths’ was a sort of bondage to them.” Lightfoot called this a “false interpretation” (Lightfoot 1981: 180). In his sixth homily on the Colossian letter, based on Col. 2:6-15, John Chrysostom identified the στοιχεῖα with the sun and the moon, and called them the weak and beggarly elements after Gal. 4:9. He argued that the author of Colossians was not referring specifically to “the observances of days but in general of the present world to show its worthlessness: for if the world be nothing, much more then its elements.” He went on to argue, “Having first shaken to pieces the Grecian observances, he next overthrows the Jewish ones also. For both Greeks and Jews practice many observances, but the former from philosophy, the latter from the Law” (Chrysostom 1843, Hom. VI, 247–248). The Greek of this text makes it clear that what Chrysostom viewed as the problem of Col. 2:8 was the teaching of the Colossian philosophy. C. F. D. Moule presented an argument based on a lack of external evidence for interpreting τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ as animate spirit beings.4 Moule’s argument that evidence outside the New Testament is lacking for interpreting the phrase as animate spirit beings is a common one. E. D. Burton, in his classic commentary on Galatians, gives us a brief but excellent excursus on the meaning of the phrase in the context of the Galatian problem. Burton made an argument similar to Moule’s that “what is not clear is that this usage [‘angel,’ ‘spirit,’ or ‘god’] belongs to the first century AD” (Burton 1980: 513). There are only three occurrences of the phrase τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ in the New Testament. Two of them occur in Colossians, one at Gal. 4:3. Burton commented on the use of the phrase in Galatians: “It no more follows that the στοιχεῖα are personal because of the previous ἐπιτρόπους καὶ οἰκονόμους than that ὁ νόμος is personal because personified as παιδαγωγός” (Burton 1980: 517). The same argument should apply to the uses of the phrase in Colossians. In his discussion of the Colossian philosophy Ralph P. Martin tried to rationalize the equation of the phrase τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ with “powerful

4. Moule (1957: 91–92): “There is no reason to deny that a belief in demonic powers is natural in this context—see on v. 15 below, and cf. Eph. vi. 10ff. (where terms like κοσμοκράτορες can be paralleled from astrological writings of later days); but in view of the absence of evidence outside the N.T. for any such sense of στοιχεῖα until later times, it seems reasonable to take it here to mean simply ‘elementary teaching.’”

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spirit intelligences.”5 Martin argued that the στοιχεῖα in later Greek religious and philosophical systems were identified with the elements of the natural or physical universe, which were in turn given personification in mythic systems. Martin (as also Moule) used caricature to describe Hellenistic religious traditions, referring to them as “infantile” and “kindergarten stage.”6 However, Hellenistic religions were anything but child’s play. In addition to the fact that Martin presented a caricature of the view which is in opposition to the one he has chosen, his conclusion about the στοιχεῖα does not follow. Even though the στοιχεῖα received metaphorical personification in the Greek mythic systems that does not necessarily warrant that the author of Colossians thought the στοιχεῖα actually were “powerful spirit intelligences.” The Greeks had far more concrete expressions for such ideas, δαίμονες for example, and these were not used by the author of Colossians. Even when the author did use a concrete expression for such a being at Col. 2:18 (τῶν ἀγγέλων), it is quite distinct from τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ. About the στοιχεῖα Gunther Bornkamm claimed he was attempting to “avoid the suspicion of vague combinations and hypotheses.”7 Bornkamm argued that Paul’s polemic against “στοιχεῖα-worship in Galatians confirms the picture.” He argued that because Paul “compared” the στοιχεῖα with the ἐπιτρόποι and οἰκονόμοι of Gal. 4:2-3, and then “designated them as φύσει μὴ ὄντες θεοί [beings not gods by nature]” in Gal. 4:8, it would then follow that the Galatians must have regarded the στοιχεῖα as personal, divine beings. But this is not necessarily the case. What Bornkamm failed to see in the Galatians text is that Paul did not use ὄντες at Gal. 4:8, but οῦσιν, and so Bornkamm seems to have distorted the evidence, glossing the ambiguity, to support his position. The text of Gal. 4:8

5. Martin (1972: 13–15): “Much was made of astrology which centered on the importance accorded to ‘elemental spirits of the universe’ (2:8, 20). This is a controverted phrase. The Greek phrase runs τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ, and the key word is στοιχεῖα. . . . The basic meaning of στοιχεῖα is ‘objects which stand in a row or which form a series.’ The most natural example of these objects is letters of the alphabet, which stand together in a line to make continuous writing. From this idea it is an easy step to reach the notion of ‘elements of learning,’ or, as we say, ABC, meaning rudiments or basic principles. This is the sense of Hebrews 5:12: ‘the elementary truths of God.’” 6. Martin (1972: 13–15): “Two alternatives form the main possibilities. . . . Either, Paul is regarding the false system as ‘elementary teaching’ either by Jewish or pagan ritualists in the sense that it is materialist at heart and exclusively tied to this world and so infantile. By contrast, Paul’s gospel invites men to accept the freedom of Christ and to remain no longer in a kindergarten stage of religious taboos and restrictions (so Moule). Alternatively, Paul is branding this cult as false because it was under the control of powerful spirit intelligences which held men prey and which needed to be placated.” 7. Bornkamm (1975: 123–24): “In 2:8 Paul sets them [the στοιχεῖα] over against Christ; in 2:10 and 2:15 he calls them ἄρχαι and ἐξουσίαι and characterizes the false teaching summarily in 2:18 as θρησκείᾳ τῶν ἀγγέλων [worship of angels]. It follows that the στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ [elements of the world] are personal, angelic powers.”

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actually reads: τοῖς φύσει μὴ οὖσιν θεοῖς, and τοῖς οὖσιν may grammatically just as easily be a neuter plural and refer back to τὰ στοιχεῖα of verse 3, which is further reinforced by the following question of verse 9: “But now knowing God, rather being known by God, how is it that you turn again to the weak and beggarly στοιχεῖα?” This may be further defended by Paul’s use of φύσις elsewhere, which he never used with reference to divine nature (see BAGD: φύσις). There is only one NT use of φύσις referring to divine nature, 2 Pet. 1:4: θείας κοινωνοὶ φύσεως. Bornkamm made the further mistake of basing his argument of personality for the “elements” on what Paul intended to be an analogy or metaphor in his use of “guardians and trustees” (ἐπιτρόπους καὶ οἰκονόμους) at Gal. 4:2. Edward Schweizer argued that the Colossian philosophy “centered around the ‘στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ’ . . . . Since all the parallels to this phrase outside the New Testament never designate anything other than the elements earth, water, air, fire (and ether), it would be difficult to understand it differently in Colossians 2:8” (Schweizer 1976: 249–50). This is the reason I have spent so much time with this phrase in this chapter. And see especially Schweizer’s note 9 where he argued, “Adoring the elements as gods (Herodotus I, 131; Philo Vit. cont. 3) is not the same as demonizing them; in this case, they would simply be some gods among others, and one would not use a comprehensive term like ‘the elements of the world,’ if one meant gods like Ge or Helios” (Schweizer 1976: 249–50). Schweizer’s presentation of the evidence, unlike most of the theories about the Colossian philosophy, made extensive use of Hellenistic and classical literature to support his point. Bruce misinterpreted the meaning of τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ by arguing that the Pauline use of the phrase was to equate it with animate spirit beings, and that this is an original contribution by Paul to the phrase’s meaning (Bruce 1973: 99–100). The problem with Bruce’s assertion is that this would have rendered Paul’s argument unintelligible to the Colossian recipients of the letter. Lohse maintained that the context as a whole shows that the elements of the universe are precisely those demonic principalities who want to exercise their tyranny over men (2:10, 15) . . . . This explanation of the concept “elements of the universe” is demanded by the context and it cannot be objected that the meaning “stars,” “elementary spirits,” or “spirits of the stars” is not attested in any non-Christian text that can be dated with certainty in pre-Pauline times. (Lohse 1986a: 99; see also Bruce 1973: 27)

In the note to this passage, Lohse actually draws up a mathematical-like equation between the phrase in question and the “rulers, authorities, and angels.” This is problematic, especially since he bases his argument on the assumption that “the confrontation of the elements and Christ already indicates that they are conceived of as personal powers” (but see Col. 2:8 and διὰ τῆς φιλοσοφίας καὶ κενῆς ἀπάτης). Lohse quoted a text from the Testament of Solomon (8:2; 18:2) to support his view that the στοιχεῖα are animate spirit beings (Lohse 1986a: 97). However, Burton quoted the same text in his excursus and has given the variant readings (ignored by

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Lohse) that do not support Lohse’s view. Burton’s conclusion was that the στοιχεῖα referred to “dogmas of religion,” not “heavenly bodies” or “spirits.”8 What is at stake in the proper identification of τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ is the more accurate identification of the Colossian philosophy. It is more accurate to take the phrase as a reference to the δόγματα of the philosophy. Personifications of the phrase lean in the direction of identifying the philosophy as Gnosticism or a form of incipient Gnosticism, which is an unfortunate anachronism reading later systems of Gnostic speculation back into the text of the letter.9 According to Schweizer, Hence we may conclude that the movement in Colossae was probably a kind of Pythagorean philosophy, embellished with rites borrowed from both Hellenistic mystery religions and Judaism. The whole movement might have grown out of a Jewish Christianity that adapted itself more and more to its Hellenistic environment. (Schweizer 1976: 255)

I think Schweizer was essentially correct. In Galatians 4 Paul used the phrase τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ to refer to the Jewish observance of days and months and seasons and years. Paul used the phrase either as a colloquial expression familiar to the Galatians, in order to advance his argument about being enslaved to the law, or as a technical reference to a local Neopythagorean tradition with which the Galatians would have been familiar, and by analogy applied this phrase as an example of being enslaved to the law. The difference between the two is subtle, I admit, but Paul gave us no real clues

8. Burton (1980: 518): “The στοιχεῖα represent an imperfect type of teaching; in Gal. described as temporary and ended by the coming of Christ, in Col. as proceeding from men (v. 8), and also as temporary and abolished in Christ (14, 17). While, therefore, it is possible that in Gal. Paul has reference to the heavenly bodies as, on the one side, formerly objects of worship by the Gentiles, and, on the other, as governing the cycle of Jewish observances, and in Col. to the physical elements of the universe, it is more probable that the phrase means the same in both cases, and in both cases has reference to the elementary and imperfect teachings of religion. Aside from the debatable question of the meaning of τὰ στ. τ. κοσμ. it is entirely clear that the things which Paul was dissuading the Galatians from accepting were, in fact, requirements of the law; as those from which he dissuaded the Colossians were dogmas of religion urged in the name of Judaism or some system of kindred spirit. To find the ground of the description of obedience to them as a bondage to τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ in a remote and unsuggested connection between them and the heavenly bodies, or the physical elements of the universe, or the spirits of these elements, when the phrase is directly applicable to them in a sense appropriate to and suggested by the context and sustained by contemporary usage, is to substitute a long and circuitous course of thought for a short, direct, and obvious one.” 9. See Yamauchi’s discussion of such anachronisms with reference to “Gnosticism” (1983).

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as to which way he was using the phrase. Either way, to identify the στοιχεῖα with animate spirit intelligences is to read into the text evidence to support a Gnosticizing element in this region of Asia Minor, an argument which I find to be anachronistic. Paul used the metaphorical contrast between heirs and slaves. Heirs are no better than slaves because as minors heirs are under guardians and trustees (ἐπιτρόπους καὶ οἰκονόμους) just as slaves. Guardians and trustees use the στοιχεῖα as principles to guide and restrain. Paul argued that the Galatians (and he includes himself with the first-person plural periphrastic) were enslaved to the στοιχεῖα, not to the ἐπιτρόπους καὶ οἰκονόμους. With the coming of Christ, the transition is made from being immature (νήπιος) to being mature heirs. The Neopythagorean language of τέλειος is missing, but the idea is the same as that of Colossians. Using a then . . . now contrast in Gal. 4:8-11, Paul wrote: “But then, when you did not know God, you were enslaved to things that are not gods by nature, but now since you know God, or rather since you have come to be known by God, how do you turn again to the weak and impoverished στοιχεῖα, to which you wish to be enslaved all over again?” In Paul’s argument the enslavement is to the στοιχεῖα, the observance of the principles of the law, “days and months and seasons and years.” It is probably incorrect to add to this the issue of circumcision, since in Neopythagorean tradition the term στοιχεῖα was used to refer to cosmic speculation, which is probably why circumcision is not mentioned in Gal. 4:11. Almost the same argument is used in Colossians 2; however, circumcision is included in the discussion as having been replaced by baptism, an argument that Paul did not make. In Romans 2, for example, Paul used an already existing Jewish metaphor for circumcision of the heart being a repentant disposition toward God as a more accurate understanding of circumcision, one used in the Minor Prophets and also found at Qumran. In Col. 2:8 the author warns his readers not to be taken captive by philosophy or vain deceit; being taken captive is certainly analogous to being enslaved, or it is at least the first stage of the process. The philosophy and empty deceit are described in terms of human tradition and τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κοσμοῦ. This suggests the human tradition and the στοιχεῖα are tools to be used by the someone doing the captivating, rather than animate spirit intelligences. In 2:9-10 the author stressed the fullness of divinity dwelling in Christ, probably an intentional contrast to the στοιχεῖα. The fullness of the deity dwells “bodily” (σωματικῶς), no doubt setting up the argument for the shadow (σκιά)/substance (σῶμα) antithesis in 2:16-17. The author’s claim that the Colossians had themselves come to fullness in Christ would resonate with the Colossians’s Middle Platonist Neopythagorean sense of τέλειος, perfection or completion accomplished through ethics, logic, and physics. The argument about baptism is almost identical to what we have in Romans 6, until in Col. 2:14-15 the Neopythagorean language is used again, with an interesting pun between τοῖς δόγμασιν and ἐδειγμάτισεν, implying that the central teachings of the philosophy are themselves to be made a shameful spectacle of. The language in Col. 2:16 shifts from one of being taken captive to one of being judged, and while circumcision has just been treated, here the Jewish elements of the philosophy are presented using a Middle Platonist antithesis of shadow

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and substance, a contrastive metaphor pervading Platonic literature from the Academy through Middle Platonism and into Neoplatonism. The warning is not to let anyone condemn with reference to festivals, new moons, or sabbaths (cf. Rom. 14:1-12; 1 Cor. 11:27-31). Festivals and new moons are generically enough referenced to almost any Greco-Roman tradition (as well as Judaism), but the reference to Sabbath observance is uniquely Jewish indicating that the Colossian philosophy was a syncretistic community adhering to a philosophical trajectory of Middle Platonism, Neopythagoreanism in particular, combined with certain Jewish beliefs and practices, or more likely the other way around, which is why this philosophy may be appropriately characterized as a local expression of Platonizing Judaism in the Lycus River Valley region. James Dunn argues for the predominant character of the philosophy being Jewish in nature (Dunn 1996). The attraction of the community espousing this philosophy to the Colossian church was probably driven by the message of a Jewish Messiah, which to the adherents of the Jewish philosophy probably would have sounded quite infantile given their investment in the kind of philosophical speculation that required a rather rigidly ascetic ethical behavior (Col. 2:20-23). The logic used in Col. 2:20–3:17 may very well be an effort to rival the Neopythagorean emphasis on logic and ethics. The argument is that, if the Colossians through baptism (2:12) have died to the στοιχεῖα, why still adhere to the ascetic prescriptions of the philosophy? It is an argument that resonates very closely with Paul’s comments about dying to the law in order to experience the new life in Christ at Gal. 2:15-21. Col. 3:1-4 then asserts the logic in terms of the Platonist dichotomy of seeking the things above and not the things on the earth, again stressing that the Colossians had “died,” probably implying that they had died to the earthly στοιχεῖα. The lists of vices and virtues in Col. 3:517 closely resemble the longer lists of Gal. 5:16-26, with the exception that in Colossians the lists are predictably divided into categories of five, characteristic of Neopythagorean ethical lists of vices and virtues. After Col. 3:17 the text seems to resume at 4:2, linked by the exhortation to thanksgiving. Col. 3:18–4:1 appears to be an insertion of a later Pauline community that probably had something to do with the composition of Ephesians. If Dunn is correct in his analysis (Dunn 1996: 35–39), that a conversation between Paul and Timothy led to the Colossian letter having been written by Timothy, and that this letter might possibly be counted as Paul’s last, probably from Rome, then a later interpolation of 3:18–4:1 makes sense. Dunn does not argue that this is the only possibility, but that his argument requires the suspension of some evidence and the use of other evidence, no less than other arguments about the provenance of Colossians do. I find this proposal of Dunn for the author of Colossians to be attractive, if for no other reason than that most of the arguments in Colossians (stripped of their Neopythagorean style) are very close to the arguments of Paul in the undisputed Paulines. The hymn of Col. 1:15-20 resonates with the undisputed Paulines, and as before it contains Platonizing language that would speak to the circumstances of the Colossian community. The language of “image of God” (εἰκῶν θεοῦ) has semantic consistencies with the “form of God” (μορφὴ θεοῦ) of Philippians 2. The creation

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being created “in/by him” (ἐν αὐτῶ) in Col. 1:16 reflects similar, near identical language to 1 Cor. 8:4-6 and Rom. 11:33-36. Christ being the “first born of the dead” is similar to, but also different from, the language of 1 Cor. 15:20 where Paul referred to Christ as the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. And the language of God reconciling all things to himself in Christ is almost identical to the language of 2 Cor. 5:18. Again, the Neopythagorean/Middle Platonist ideas permeate the text. The thrones and lordships and rulers and authorities, fullness of the deity dwelling in Christ, the things on the earth and the things in the heavens dichotomy, this language sets the Colossians hymn apart from the undisputed Paulines. Aside from the Middle Platonist/Neopythagorean language used by the author of Colossians, however, the arguments are very similar to those used by Paul in the undisputed letters. It is for this reason that I am inclined to agree with the scenario for this letter suggested by Dunn. If Timothy (a Jew from the region acc. to Acts 16:1-5) was the hand holding the pen, and the voice of Paul (a Jew) was in his head, then this would explain why the letter to the Colossians so closely resonates with the undisputed Paulines, and yet the language sounds so different. The arguments against Gentile circumcision and Sabbath observance are really no more developed in Colossians than in the undisputed letters; it is just that the language appears to have been adapted to speak directly to the Colossian philosophy. Colossians contains nothing close to the kinds of anti-Jewish polemic we read in second-century CE Christian documents like the Epistle of Barnabas, Justin Martyr, Tertullian, or the Gospel of Peter.

Conclusion The Colossian community’s message of a Jewish Messiah must have attracted the attention either of a local Jewish community with syncretistic tendencies toward the form of Middle Platonism peculiar to the Lycus River Valley region, or some other individual advocating a Judaizing Platonist philosophy also peculiar to the region, or just as likely a Platonizing Judaism observed within the synagogue(s) at Colossae, the influence of which on the Pauline community in turn evoked the response of the author of the letter. In the end the author of the letter pressed his positions by using the language of a Middle Platonist period form of Pythagoreanism that very likely further isolated the community from its Jewish heritage by discounting Jewish observances as a world of shadows to be abandoned in favor of the light. The seeds of this kind of division would have been planted already by the Apostle Paul, in the way that he leaned into the exclusivity, the particularity of Israel’s identity as a nation now on the edge of the eschatological fulfillments of texts like Third Isaiah referring to Gentile inclusion, and the way he interpreted the story of Abraham in the Torah to reorient his own identity as a Jewish apostle of Christ to the Gentiles and thereby eventually, even if unintentionally, reorient the church’s identity as the people of God without Sabbath, circumcision, kashrut, or sacrifice.

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And while Paul himself was an observant Jew, who did not begrudge his fellow Jews the privilege or necessity of Torah observance for Jewish identity and who clearly did not lay the necessity of Torah observance on Gentiles who accepted their new identity with Israel in Christ, Paul opened the door for the logical next step that as the church became more and more non-Jewish, the privilege and necessity of Torah observance for identity as God’s people increasingly became a point of contention, a matter of laying aside one’s world of shadows to embrace the substance of the light. The content as well as the language of Colossians, in my opinion, contributed to a movement in this direction, but it was not yet very far at all from what Paul himself had already written.

References Berchman, R. M. (1985), From Philo to Origen: Middle Platonism in Transition, Brown Judaic Studies, Chico: Scholars Press. Bornkamm, G. (1975), “The Heresy of Colossians,” in F. O. Francis and W. A. Meeks (eds. and trans.), Conflict at Colossae: A Problem in the Interpretation of Early Christianity Illustrated by Selected Modern Studies. Rev. ed., Sources for Biblical Study 4, Missoula: Scholars, 123–45. Bruce, F. F. (1973), The Epistles to the Ephesians and Colossians, The New International Commentary on the New Testament, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Burton, E. D. (1980), A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians, Edinburgh: T&T Clark. Chrysostom, J. (1843), “Homilies on the Epistle of St. Paul the Apostle to the Colossians,” in A Library of Fathers, London: Oxford. DeMaris, R. E. (1994), The Colossian Controversy: Wisdom in Dispute at Colossae, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic. Diels, H. (1954), Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, I, Berlin: Weidmannsche Verlagsbuchhandlung. Dillon, J. M. (1996), The Middle Platonists: 80 B.C. to A.D. 220, Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Diogenes Laërtius (1931), Lives of Eminent Philosophers, II, Books 6-10 (Book 8, chapter 1, Pythagoras), R. D. Hicks (trans. and ed.), Loeb Classical Library 185, Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Dunn, J. (1996), The Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon: A Commentary on the Greek Text, The New International Greek Testament Commentary, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Hengel, M. (1974), Judentum und Hellenismus; English trans., Judaism and Hellenism: Studies in Their Encounter in Palestine during the Early Hellenistic Period, J. Bowden (trans.), 2 vols., Philadelphia: Fortress. Jonas, H. (1963), The Gnostic Religion, 2nd ed., Boston: Beacon. Lewis, N. D. (2013), Cosmology and Fate in Gnosticism and Graeco-Roman Antiquity— Under Pitiless Skies, Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies 81, Leiden: Brill. Lightfoot, J. B. ([1879] 1981), Saint Paul’s Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon, Grand Rapids: Zondervan. Lohse, E. (1986a), Colossians and Philemon, W. R. Poehlmann and R. J. Karris (trans.), Hermeneia Series, Philadelphia: Fortress.

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Lohse, E. (1986b), The New Testament Environment, J. E. Steely (trans.), Nashville: Abingdon. Martin, R. P. (1972), Colossians: The Church’s Lord and the Christian’s Liberty: An Expository Commentary with a Present-Day Application, Grand Rapids: Zondervan. Moule, C. F. D. (1957), The Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon, Cambridge Greek Testament Commentary, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Murray, G. (1955), Five Stages of Greek Religion, London: Watts & Co. Ryholt, K., ed (2003), Acts of the Seventh International Conference of Demotic Studies, Copenhagen 23–27 August 1999, CNI Publications 27, Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press. Schweizer, E. (1976), “Christianity of the Circumcised and Judaism of the Uncircumcised: The Background of Matthew and Colossians,” in R. Hamerton-Kelly and R. Scroggs (eds.), Jews, Greeks and Christians: Religious Cultures in Late Antiquity, Essays in Honor of William David Davies, 245–60, Leiden: Brill. Witt, R. E. (2013), Albinus and the History of Middle Platonism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yamauchi, Edwin M. (1983), Pre-Christian Gnosticism: A Survey of the Proposed Evidences, 2nd edition, Grand Rapids: Baker.

Chapter 7 Διδάσκαλος ἐθνῶν—PAULINE TRAJECTORIES ACCORDING TO 1 TIMOTHY Kathy Ehrensperger

Already during his lifetime different images/perceptions of Paul were likely prevalent in the communities he founded and possibly even beyond these (Campbell 2000: 187–211). In different contexts, and depending on the issue, the relationship to the people with whom he was involved as well as the topic, purpose, and aim under discussion, different people would have experienced him differently. He claims to be an apostle, but this role and title was contested by others (Luke), and not merely those in fundamental disagreement with him, as some in Galatia might have been. He was weak and unimpressive in one sense (2 Cor. 11:30) but powerful and authoritative in another (his letters are weighty etc., 2 Cor. 10:10); he was a fool but claimed respect (2 Cor. 11:16; 12:11). In addition to such divergent impressions or self-presentations he produced among people, there are statements in his undisputed letters which when compared with each other seem contradictory (Campbell 2000). It is thus certainly no surprise that his “afterlife” is multifaceted even among those who claim to represent his legacy as the Pastoral Epistles explicitly do (Lieu 2010: 3). The “afterlife” in the Pastoral Epistles should not be summarized under one image but rather the three letters should be considered in their own right as individual letters with specific aims and purposes (Engelmann 2012; Herzer 2004). Thus I will consider aspects of 1 Timothy here specifically, without drawing on information and aspects of the other Pastorals. It is relevant that the letter to Titus presents a different context by locating the addressee in Crete (Tit. 1:5) rather than in Ephesus. Even if this is fictional, the fictional contextualization should be taken into account in the interpretation of each of the three letters as their explicit aim to present a different contextual scenario. 1 Timothy claims to address Timothy as Paul,1 and Pauline allusions can actually be found throughout. The claim to interpret Paul authoritatively is evident

1. On the pseudonymous authorship see the extended discussion in Marshall (1999: 57–92).

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in this letter by lending him a fictive voice and addressing a close coworker in a fictive way.2 Whether the letter is a real letter addressing a specific situation or rather a literary product written more generally for the purpose of preserving and transmitting tradition and establishing normative rules in the Christ movement at the end of the first or beginning of the second century CE is controversially debated. I cannot add to this debate here.3 The fictional aspect I am focusing on here is not a real letter or literary construct (where exactly is the boundary to be drawn to define the genre?), but the image presented of Paul and the addressee, and some implications this has for interpreting specific passages of 1 Timothy. A key feature of 1 Timothy is the clear depiction of Paul as διδάσκαλος ἐθνῶν (1 Tim. 2.9). This characterizes the claimed image of Paul in clear succession of Paul’s self-presentation in the undisputed letters as ἀπόστολος ἔθνων (Rom. 11:13; cf. also 1:5; 15:18; Gal. 1:16; 2:9). Paul is remembered as διδάσκαλος ἐθνῶν and as the one who had fully proclaimed the message to the ἔθνη4 (4:17). Thus in 1 Timothy a number of issues are addressed that have to do with the understanding of Pauline guidance to those from the ἔθνη in Christ. This identification of Paul implies that the “fictional” addressee Timothy as the γνησίον τέκνον ἐν πίστει (1.2) is perceived as the loyal and reliable transmitter of precisely this legacy of Paul, namely, of the focus on the ἔθνη in Christ. He is imagined as providing guidance to a gentile assembly in Christ in Ephesus (1:3).5 Like Paul, he himself is Jewish (according to Acts 16:1-2), thus 1 Timothy creates an image which replicates the relationship of Paul, the Jewish apostle to the ἔθνη, with “Timothy” being the Jewish leader encouraged by “Paul” in his role as a guide of an ἐκκλησία ἐθνῶν or of people from the nations in the assembly.6 Thus the issues addressed are

2. Despite the clear authority claims in the Pastorals, the diversity of interpreting Paul is maintained in the New Testament in that other letters which claim such authority in the name of Paul are part of the canon as well, and thus no unified univocal interpretation of Paul is presented. The pragmatic theologizing that I think is prevalent in the undisputed Pauline letters is preserved in the lively differences of his afterlife in Acts, Ephesians, Colossians, and the Pastorals. 3. Cf. Herzer (2011: 324); also Mitchell (2002). 4. In view of the discussions concerning the translation of ἔθνη, I will leave the term untranslated where possible, use “nations” if a translation is needed, and resort to “Gentiles” if it is grammatically unavoidable. 5. I am not discussing the composition of the assemblies in Ephesus as such here, nor am I contesting that there were Jewish Christ-followers present in Ephesus, or that there were mixed assemblies there. But the focus in this letter is not on Jewish Christ-followers, nor on the interaction between Jewish and non-Jewish Christ-followers, but on guidance for ἔθνη in Christ. On the composition of Christ-following communities generally see Trebilco (2008: 104–54). 6. I am not discussing the identity of the “real” author of 1 Timothy, and whether or not he is Jewish, but merely the fiction presented here. Concerning the “real” author, see, for example, Herzer (2011: 322).

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issues concerning ἔθνη in Christ. The advice and guidance is specific rather than universally addressing all who are in Christ. But similar to the undisputed Pauline letters, the guidance provided is clearly envisaged as rooted in Jewish traditions in as much as these are applied to ἔθνη. This is not to deny trajectories of traditions of the ἔθνη in the letter as well.7 Speaking at a different period, 1 Timothy provides insight into the further development of the cultural translation process under way in relation to Christ-followers from the nations.8

Jewish Traditions for ἔθνη in Christ Traditionally, so-called opponents are a key focus in the interpretation of the letter. The νομοδιδάσκαλοι are immediately at the center of the discussion as they are mentioned before a proper greeting at the opening of the letter (1:7).9 Interpreters identify them as Jewish opponents, their trajectories subsequently being found throughout the letter, their Jewishness being varied in some cases and they are thus also labeled as Jewish Gnostics or Gnostic Judaizers. This identification is based on the occurrence of “the falsely called knowledge” (τῆς ψευδωνύμου γνώσεως) at the end of the letter.10 Undoubtedly, aspects of Jewish traditions are under discussion among those whom the addressee is supposed to “instruct” (1:3: παρ αγγείλῃς) so that they may not teach another gospel. There is no immediate and obvious indication that those who need such instruction are “opponents” who sneaked into the community, rather they are presented as located within the realm to which Timothy is supposed to reach out. Timothy should “instruct” these (1:3: τίνες) who actually would like to be teachers themselves. This means that Timothy is presented here first as a teacher of teachers rather than of the community as a whole! There seems to be some confusion (in “Paul’s” view) concerning the right understanding of the gospel on the part of these teachers (1:4: προσέχειν μύθοις καὶ γενεαλογίαις)—and one aspect which bears the risk of ἑτεροδιδασκαλεῖν is their understanding of the Torah.11 It is not evident that these θέλοντες εἶναι νομοδιδάσκαλοι (1:7) are actually Jews themselves. There is no reference to “those of the circumcision” as in Tit. 1:10, nor to Ἰουδαικοῖς like in Tit. 1:14. I also do not consider it helpful to primarily draw analogies to so-called Gnostic heretics here and conflate the information that they are inclined to tell myths and genealogies with the ψευδωνύμος γνώσις (1 Tim. 6:20). It is rather striking that these Christfollowers are not called νομοδιδάσκαλοι but θέλοντες εἶναι νομοδιδάσκαλοι. In my

7. Malherbe (2011); Hutson (2014: 394). 8. Ehrensperger (2013: 90–101, 131–39). 9. Cf. Mounce (2000: 27–29) and Bassler (1996: 38–41). 10. For a discussion, see Sumney (1999: 253–302); cf. also Herzer (2014: 69). 11. Note that Timothy is to prevent such ἑτεροδιδασκαλεῖν from happening—it is a risk, but it is not evident that such ἑτεροδιδασκαλεῖν has already been established.

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view this indicates that they aspire to be teachers of the Torah, but are actually not in the eyes of the author. They could either be Jews or Gentiles. Interestingly, their wish to be νομοδιδάσκαλοι is not refuted, it is rather their lack of understanding that constitutes the problem (1:7b). They are not (yet) νομοδιδάσκαλοι in the proper sense, they miss the τέλος τῆς παραγγελίας (1:5) and need further instruction and guidance in the appropriate interpretation of the Torah to be provided by Timothy (1:8: Οἴδαμεν δὲ ὅτι καλὸς ὁ νόμος ἐάν τις αὐτῷ νομίμως χρῆται [“We know that the law is good, if one acts towards it/in relation to it appropriately”]).12 The law undoubtedly has a function also for those from the nations who are in Christ but there is no principal controversy discernable here, rather the issue is their accurate understanding of the Torah. That the interpretation of the Torah appears right at the beginning of the letter indicates the relevance of Jewish traditions for the teachers of this group as well as for the group as such. It is not an indication of Judaizers nor to an abrogation of the law. Rather the discussion is about the accurate understanding of the Torah for ἔθνη in Christ. This touches on similar discussions in the undisputed Pauline letters (i.e., Romans 2 and 7, Galatians 3). The Torah and its relevance in an accurate understanding on the part of ἔθνη in Christ is part of the symbolic universe they have entered. The Jewish traditions and their accurate understanding remain core to Christ-followers from the nations also in this letter. Further aspects indicate these affinities to Jewish traditions throughout the letter as Christopher Hutson recently has pointed out (2014). In addition to the reference to the Torah right at the beginning of the letter, Hutson notes that in the thanksgiving formula in 1:17, the doxology τῷ δὲ βασιλεῖ τῶν αἰώνων resonates strongly with the doxological expression melekh ha-‘olam, one of the designations for God in later Jewish liturgical tradition. There are antecedents to this designation as in Jer. 10:10 and Ps. 10:16, in Greek-Jewish traditions like Tob. 13:7, 11, as well as in Enoch traditions (1 En. 9:4; 12:3; 25:3, 7; 27:3). Of particular interest is the doxology in 1 En. 84:2: “Blessed are you, O Great King, you are mighty in your greatness, O Lord of all the creation of heaven, King of kings and God of the whole world.” The formulations in this text strongly resonate and possibly contributed to the statutory synagogue blessing, “Blessed are you O Lord our God, King of the universe.” This indicates that melekh ha-‘olam clearly was a doxological expression already in the Second Temple period. A fragment from the synagogue in Dura Europos (dating from the third century) begins with baruk melech ha-‘olam and thus demonstrates that the formula was firmly established by that time. 1 Tim. 1:17 is evidence of the use of this Jewish doxology already in the late first or early second century.13 Not only the designation βασιλεύς τῶν αἰώνων is noteworthy but also the blessing of God (τῆς δόξης τοῦ μακαρίου θεοῦ), which is found in close proximity to this passage (1:11), and again in the doxology at the end of the letter in 6:15 (ὁ μακάριος καὶ μόνος δυνάστης). This is a peculiarly Jewish way of referring to

12. Cf. Herzer (2014): 78. Cf. also Johnson (2008: 27). 13. Cf. the discussion in Hutson (2014: 395–96).

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God that, together with other terminology such as the Oneness of God (1 Tim. 2.5; 6.15-16), his invisibility, and eternal reign, indicates the Jewish context of the author and the message conveyed. The reference to the Oneness of God obviously is an expression indebted to the Shema (LXX Deut. 6:4) and evidently was a standard creedal formulation in the Second Temple period.14 These doxological expressions are complemented by references to God as the “living God” (1 Tim. 3:15; 4:10). It is also found in three passages of the undisputed Pauline letters (Rom. 9:26; 2 Cor. 3:3) of which 1 Thess. 1:9 is probably the most illuminating in relation to the passages in 1 Timothy. In 1 Thess. 1:9 the reference to θεῷ ζῶντι is made in contrast to the εἰδώλα from which the Thessalonians have turned away to “the living and true God.” The juxtaposition set is between idols who are characterized elsewhere by Paul as mute, but certainly ineffective, and God who affirms his presence and power again and again (e.g., in the prophets with reference to himself as being alive: LXX Ezek. 5:11; 14:20; 16:48; 17:16). The compound θεός ζῶν is found in LXX Isa. 37:4, 11; whereas in LXX Jeremiah the phrase ζῇ κύριος is frequent (5:2; 12:16; 16:14-15; 22:24; 23:7-8; 26:18). Since Paul explicitly refers to the living God in contrast to Gentile Christ-followers’ previous loyalties, it might be justified to consider such an emphasis also in 1 Tim. 3:15 and 4:10. Added weight to this suggestion comes from the resonance of two further lexemes, namely, ἀληθεία- and στρέφ-related terms both in 1 Thess. 1:9 and 1 Tim. 3.15. While in Thessalonians the addressees are greeted as those who have turned to the living and true God (which implies that they now live according to this orientation), in 1 Tim. 3.15 the guidance provided just previously is given so that Timothy may know how those who belong to the assembly of the living God ought to live their lives (ἀναστρέφεσθαι) in that they are now the στῦλος καὶ ἑδραίωμα τῆς ἀληθείας. All of these designations and doxologies of the one God seem to be normal, and the most obvious way to refer to God in light of later Christian self-understanding. But at the end of the first and beginning of the second century CE, this was all but a self-evident way of designating and praising a deity, especially as the one and only One, for Christ-followers who formerly had been used to worship numerous deities. The language of referring to this God and the implications of the commitment to the One were first and foremost a Jewish tradition. The narrative of belonging that evolved in relation to the Christ-event for those from the non-Jewish nations was deeply permeated with the narrative of belonging of the people of Israel. To find this theo-poetical language with reference to

14. Philo, Op. Mund. 171; cf. Leg. All. 3:105; Cher. 83; Somn. 1:229; Spec. Leg. 1.30; Josephus, Ant. 3:91; 4:01; 5:97. This formulation of course also became a hallmark of later Christian identity. Hence it is found in Jewish and Christian funerary inscriptions (for a list of εἷς θέος inscriptions, cf. Peterson (2012: 375–555)). Although there are also pagan monotheistic expressions, the context here and in other instances can be identified as clearly Jewish—hence the expression, in combination with other aspects mentioned, undoubtedly refer to the one God acclaimed and confessed in the Shema. For pagan monotheism, see Mitchell and Van Nuffelen (2010); and especially Belayche (2010).

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the one God in 1 Timothy is thus evidence for the continued Jewish indebtedness of “Paul,” “Timothy,” and the ἐκκλησία, which “Timothy” is encouraged to lead and guide. The prayer for kings and rulers in general (2.2), rather than worshipping them, is again modeled on Jewish practice in attempts at securing good relations and political protection in majority societies.15 This was all the more important for the Christ-following Gentiles—if they were noted as different from Jews, while abstaining from offering to their traditional deities.16 Further indication of the Jewish context is the exhortation to Timothy to keep paying attention to τῇ ἀναγνώσει, τῇ παρακλήσει, τῇ διδασκαλίᾳ (4:13). It resonates with the practice peculiar to Jewish synagogue settings of the first century CE as is evident from Philo (Omn. Prob. Lib. 82; Somn. 2:127), Josephus, and also the Mishnah.17 The reading of scriptures and teaching practice is an identity-shaping aspect of Jewish tradition, certainly after the exile, with Ezra being depicted as the paradigmatic public proclaimer and teacher (Neh. 8:1-8). This identity-shaping dimension is also found in Deut. 31:11-13 and in the narrative of the finding of the “book” that triggered the reform of Josiah (2 Chron. 34:18-30). These narratives depict the public reading of the Torah as being performed in the assembly to reaffirm the relationship of the people with their God and remind them of their identity as God’s people. Remembering through hearing constitutes an act of identity performance encompassing all—men, women, and children. This may be an idealized image, but even as an ideal, it certainly had an impact as there is no doubt that this public performance continued and continues to be

15. Cf. Josephus, War 2.409–10; Pirke Avot 3.2; Jer. 29:7. 16. Hutson (2014) presents a detailed interpretation of 1 Tim. 2:13-15 in light of Jewish traditions, although he refers exclusively to later rabbinic traditions. This renders these analogies more tentative in my view than Hutson assumes, but they point to an aspect that certainly requires further research: since former pagan female Christ-followers were obviously not to seek protection in the life-threatening liminal stage of giving birth to a child through the invocation of protective deities, this protection necessarily needed to be sought elsewhere. There can be no doubt that Jewish women adhered to practices that asked and were supposed to grant such protection, although, as far as I am aware, little is actually known in this regard for this period. As with other aspects of everyday life that had to be lived in loyalty to the one God, guidance for former pagan women and men was really only available through Jewish practice. Hence, it cannot be ruled out that Jewish practice and perceptions were guiding parameters for the connection made in 2:15 between being kept safe during the process of giving birth and μείνωσιν ἐν πίστει καὶ ἀγάπῃ καὶ ἁγιασμῷ μετὰ σωφροσύνης. It remains unstated, however, that such protection would now also be granted through the one God to those from the nations (Hutson 2014: 399–406). 17. Cf. m. Meg. 4.3: “If there are less than ten present they may not recite the Shema with its benediction, nor may one go before the Ark, nor may they lift up their hands, nor may they read [the prescribed portion] of the law or the readings from the prophets, nor may they observe the stations.”

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decisive for the identity of the Jewish people throughout the centuries. The Christfollowers from the nations were being familiarized and socialized into this (Israel’s) narrative of belonging, as those from the nations who now also worshipped the one God. How precisely this process is to be envisaged is another question. It is somewhat surprising that most commentators and translations assume that the admonition given to Timothy refers to the public reading of scripture.18 While the string of reading, exhortation, and teaching does actually provide an indication that this is what might be meant, this is far from obvious when it is considered that such public reading would most likely have involved physical access to the scriptures, that is, scrolls of the Torah and the Prophets. Does this imply that Christ-followers from the nations had their own scrolls? Would they have had copies of the LXX? In what form was the LXX present in Jewish communities? Was it different from the Hebrew scrolls? If the Gentile Christ-followers had their own copies, who would have financed them? Who would have copied them? And where would they be stored during the week? If they did not have their own copies of the scriptures, where could they get access if not in the context of synagogue communities? Thus the admonition to Timothy to continue with the “reading” raises questions concerning its practicality—which leads to questions concerning the social setting of the addressees. The reading of scriptures had certainly an identity-shaping function in Jewish tradition and this aspect is implicated here for the Christ-followers from the nations as well. In order to learn to relate to the God of Israel through Christ, it was indispensable for them to be inducted into the understanding of the scriptures. But this inherently leads to the question of the social setting in which such teaching and learning would have taken place. If it is assumed that the “reading” refers to the reading of the scriptures, the identity-shaping aspect of teaching and learning through them is thus also applied to the addressees—although not as the people Israel but as those from the nations through Christ.19 The guidance concerning widows and the payment of elders for their teaching and preaching is rooted in Jewish scriptural tradition, although the latter especially is probably also an allusion to Paul’s reference to scripture in his debate with the Corinthians about leadership credentials (1 Cor. 9:9). That women should be quiet during the meetings of the assembly (1 Tim. 2:11-12) resonates with Paul’s guidance in 1 Cor. 14:34-36 (if the latter is not considered an interpolation). I have argued elsewhere that the guidance might have something to do with the appropriate conduct in a gender-mixed assembly, which is presupposed as the normal way for those in Christ to come together. Nevertheless, gender distinction and hierarchy should be maintained, and although both men and women are envisaged as participating in learning, women are excluded from a public teaching role (Ehrensperger 2015).There are analogies to this guidance in Philo, indicating that Paul argued from within Jewish tradition

18. NRSV; cf. Towner (2007: 316–20). 19. This does not exclude the possibility that other texts, such as letters, were read as well, as 2 Pet. 3:15-16 indicates.

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now applied to the assemblies of the nations in Christ. The key here is not so much the confirmation of gender hierarchies but the fact that a mixed assembly of men and women is presupposed by Paul, and in 1 Timothy (as in Jewish tradition). Thus the admonition here can easily be seen as indebted to this Pauline advice, although it of course resonates with perceptions of gender hierarchies in Greek and Roman traditions as well. These dimensions indicate implicitly and explicitly that the Jewish context and affiliation remains the context of the message as well as the implied author and addressee of 1 Timothy. The group concerned, however, is an assembly of people from the nations in Christ—as is the case with the undisputed Pauline letters. Of the numerous topics that are closely related to Pauline topics, the case usually discussed under “ascetic tendencies” is abstinence of some in the community from certain foods and from marriage. Some interpreters consider this to be deviations from Pauline guidance, with those advocating such practices as being in opposition to Pauline tradition (e.g., Marshall 2004: 51). However, such practices could be seen as one possible way of understanding Paul’s guidance in 1 Corinthians in particular (1 Cor. 7 and 8-10; also Rom. 14:1–15:13). The refutation of this genuine understanding of Paul in 1 Tim. 4:1-5 is thus merely one among a number of interpretations whereas the Acts of Paul and Thecla, for example, provides yet a different one (Zamfir 2010). The fiction of the letter underscores the implicit authority claim to represent the accurate interpretation and application of Pauline guidance in new or later contexts.20 Although the numerous aspects mentioned in this brief survey deserve to be explored in more detail from the perspective proposed here, the aspect I wish to focus on for the remainder of this chapter is the issue concerning widows in 5:3-16.

Concerning Widows They were a vulnerable group in ancient societies. Due to the significant age difference between husbands and wives in societies in antiquity, women (provided they survived pregnancies and childbirth) often were widowed young. Although refraining from remarriage was the ideal for a virtuous widow in many societies, this ideal could only be adhered to if economic factors allowed. Widows without family support and respective economic means were normally forced to remarry (Hübner 2013: 92–94). Even the ideal of the virtuous widow was eventually challenged by the Augustan family laws, which required that widows up to the age of 50 and widowers up to the age of 60 should remarry relatively shortly after

20. Merz (2007: 274–29). With diverse understandings of Paul having been integrated into the canon, absolutist authority claims of particular interpretations are relativized to a certain extent, although through the eventual exclusion of some texts, some boundary was drawn, while the canonization of other texts enhanced their authority claim.

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their spouse’s death (Hübner 2013: 94). These are aspects that certainly impacted 1 Timothy’s guidance concerning widows, but there are others rooted in Jewish traditions that play a role as well. Thus Philo (Spec. Leg. 1:310) recognizes that in the case of orphans and widows (χηρῶν), since they have been deprived of their natural protectors, the one class having lost their parents, and the others their husbands, they have no refuge whatever to which they can flee, no aid which they can hope for from man, being utterly destitute; on which account they are not deprived of the greatest hope of all, the hope of relief from God, who, because of his merciful character, does not refuse to provide and to care for persons so wholly desolate.

The term χήρα designates a woman who is bereft, that is, lacking a male protector. This primarily means being without a husband due to his death, but more generally it can designate a woman who is separated from her husband or left without any male protector for other reasons.21

Advocating Remarriage—Deviating from Paul? It is evident that although care for widows is acknowledged as a duty of the ἐκκλησία, the author of 1 Timothy clearly attempts to restrict the understanding of Paul’s guidance in 1 Cor. 7:8 concerning this group of women (Horrell 2008: 117). Paul had encouraged women who had lost their husbands that it is “well for them to remain as I am” (καλὸν αὐτοῖς ἐὰν μείνωσιν ὡς κἀγώ). If we infer from the fact that an issue is being addressed in a letter, there must be cause for this in the context to which the letter responds (general or specific). The scenario envisaged in 1 Timothy would be that women in Ephesus followed Paul’s guidance. That only χήραι (rather than more generally ἀγάμοι and χήραι as in 1 Cor. 7:8) are in view here may indicate that women who had been married before and followed Paul’s advice were especially considered as causing problems. However, more than one problem appears to be addressed here. The reference to an enrollment of widows, on the one hand, and to financial support, on the other, with seemingly contradictory requirements, has led to the proposal that there are actually two separate issues at stake here concerning two different groups of widows (Bassler 2003: 134–36). While I am not convinced that the passage can be divided into two different cases that would have been later coordinated into one, it is evident that two issues are addressed: financial support (5:1-8, 16) and the “enrollment” of “widows” (5:9-15).22

21. Cf. Philo, Spec 3.64: But if anyone should offer violence to a widow after her husband is dead, or after she has been otherwise divorced from him (ἐὰν δέ τις χήραν ἀποθανόντος ἀνδρὸς ἢ καὶ διαζευχθεῖσαν ἄλλως βιασάμενος αἰσχύνῃ). 22. That widows could have specific roles is presumed in the Tabitha narrative in Acts 9:39; also Lucian, Death of Peregrinus, 12.

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In light of this there may be more than one purpose that the author pursues. The restriction of the number of widows by various means, including the advice to young widows to remarry, clearly deviates from Paul’s stance on this matter (1 Cor. 7:8). Whatever the reasons for this urge to limitation, financial support and enrollment are presented as contingent upon each other in that a χήρα had to conform to a set of characteristics in order to qualify as “real.” If these “qualifications” of a “widow” eligible for enrollment are considered in detail, one must almost come to the possible conclusion that hardly any woman would have qualified. If young widows are to remarry (5:14), yet to qualify for enrollment as widows they would have needed to be married only once, they would be excluded upon the death of a further husband even if they reached the age of 60 with no family member to support them.23 It is thus doubtful that ἑνὸς ἀνδρὸς should be understood in the vein of the Roman ideal of the univira, although it cannot be entirely excluded. More likely is the possibility that this refers to the ideal of a faithful marriage as this would render the demand for young widows to remarry more understandable. Another strange requirement is the care for children, which seems to contradict another statement, namely, that there is nobody to support the widow, which would seem rather unlikely if she had raised children (unless they had all died beforehand, which, of course, cannot be excluded). The additional requirement of having “shown hospitality, washed the saints’ feet, helped the afflicted, and devoted herself to doing good in every way” (5:10b) characterizes her as having embodied the ethos of the movement. With Horrell (2008), I consider this hardly as duties that come with enrollment but rather as the precondition to become enrolled. Despite these restrictive requirements, the author attempts to make it look as if he adhered to Paul’s guidance concerning unmarried women. And there is something to it. It is impossible to know whether Paul had considered the practical implications of his wish, especially as far as women are concerned. The author of 1 Timothy tries to provide a practical solution to what in his view was a multitiered problem. That he sees a need to limit the number and possibly the social power of a group of women within the assembly actually indicates that such groups did exist and possibly had some influence and power. They certainly were a noticeable group in terms of its size, which in the author’s eyes constituted a problem. Following Paul’s guidance, there possibly did emerge a way of life for women as an alternative to marriage, as is also evident in the idealized fiction of the Acts of Paul and Thecla (Zamfir 2010). The author depicts this alternative way of life in a negative way at least as far as younger women are concerned. The polemical description of young widows as unreliable due to their sexual desires and as spreading teachings the author considers dangerous reflect conflicting views concerning an ascetic lifestyle for women within the movement rather than being actual descriptions of these

23. Deborah Krause pointedly notes, “The writer has accomplished a coup within his community by attempting to eliminate women with social power, physical health and financial means from eligibility for the office of widow in the church” (2004: 100). Cf. also Winter (2003: 124).

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women (Krause 2004). Although this looks like a distortion of Paul’s guidance (1 Cor. 7:5, 9), it is stylized in a Pauline vein, generalizing the potential desire of young widows to remarry, and thereby providing a reason for not including them in a group that seems to have an established status in the assembly. For the purpose of this chapter the question of any association with opponents is not decisive, but I do not consider such a connection as obvious as is assumed by some interpreters (Mounce 2000: 299).

Support for Widows—An Identity Marker The focus of the argument is not only driven by the negative image of young, independent widows as there is also an emphasis on finances. It emerges clearly that the recognition as a “real” χήρα implied that she had to be treated with respect, but additionally it included the right to material as well as financial support. Apparently, Paul in 1 Corinthians did not mention this aspect when advising widows to remain as they were. The assessment of this aspect depends on the translation of τίμα (5:3). Does it only refer to “honor” in terms of showing respect or does it include material and financial support? This is not an either-or question. With a significant number of interpreters I take the imperative (τίμα) to include material and financial support for “real” widows24 (the commandment to honor father and mother is to be understood likewise [Exod. 20:12], but this does of course not exclude the dimension of honor and respect). The differentiation between τὰς ὄντως χήρας and others in 5:3-4, 8, and 16 provides guidelines as to who needs the support of the assembly and who should be supported within the wider group of the family. The latter duty is designated as an ἐυσέβεια and those who do not conform to this duty are equated with ἄπιστοι. This qualification of the duty to support a χήρα within the family, if at all possible, is inherently linked to loyalty to the one God (πίστις) and actually conforms to the commandment to honor father and mother. It is not a new ethos but the ethos of the Torah applied and explained to those from the nations in Christ. Thus a χήρα who had family members is not considered to be a “real” χήρα, as she is not without any male protector. This is the distinction between χήρας and τὰς ὄντως χήρας. It serves as one of the guiding parameters in the practical application deriving from a Pauline advice. Paul himself does not give any specific practical advice on how a χήρα ὄντως who had nobody to support her should live, hence the solution that the assembly of 1 Timothy is envisaged to practice seems to be based on their own assessment and conclusions. However, there is an indication in Paul that might be the trajectory that led to this solution of corporate financial support for women who were otherwise entirely destitute. In Gal. 2:10 Paul confirms that the mutual recognition of different activity

24. Cf. Horrell (2008:117) and references in the following footnote.

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fields between James, Cephas, and John, and Barnabas and himself included the concern for the poor (μόνον τῶν πτωχῶν ἵνα μνημονεύωμεν). This has traditionally been interpreted as referring to the collection.25 However, Bruce Longenecker has argued, that these are two separate tasks, the concern for the poor being a general duty assemblies from the nations should learn to practice as an expression of their loyalty to the one God.26 Without being able to discuss Longenecker’s arguments here in detail, I consider them rather convincing, in that, it would be strange to restrict concern for the poor to the poor saints in Jerusalem. It is more in keeping with the traditions of the people to whom the Christ-followers from the nations are now associated, that more generally remembering the poor would form part of the ethos of this messianic movement. Concern for the poor is an intrinsic part of the ethos and identity of the people of God (Israel) as is evident in the numerously repeated insistence that “the resident aliens, the orphans, and the widows in your towns, may come and eat their fill so that the Lord your God may bless you in all the work that you undertake” (Exod. 22:21-22; Deut. 10:18; 14:29; and also 16:11, 14; 24:17, 19-21; 26:12-13; Ps. 67:5; 145:9; Isa. 1:17, 23; 10:2; Jer. 7:6; Ezek. 22:7; Zech. 7:10). Care for orphans and widows has even also been called an identity marker in Jewish tradition. Michael Sommer has recently argued that the focus on widows in Deuteronomy in particular is not merely about acts of charity and alms giving but represents a perception of the Torah (God’s system of justice) as including all, thus all are entitled to being dealt with justly in the realm of this God.27 Together with orphans and strangers, widows are thus representative for the existence of Israel as the people of God for whom the Torah is constitutive of their life. The widow has a “constitutional” right to be supported in and by this community. Evidence for the continuing relevance of this perception is not only found throughout the scriptures but also in Second Temple literature,28 most prominently in the Testament of Job, where Job emphasizes his unwavering loyalty to God by referring to all that he had done for the poor, and for widows in particular (T. Job 9:5; 10:2; 13:4; 14:2; 53:5). Widows here often occur on their own as those who are being supported by Job, rather than being always paired with orphans and strangers (as mostly in the scriptures). The care and support provided

25. Betz (1979: 99–101); Martyn (1997: 207); Horsley (2009: 144). 26. Longenecker (2010: esp. 207–19; 279–97). 27. Michael Sommer argues that “Dtn 10 will eine Gesellschaft nicht nur dadurch etablieren, dass sie in eine Geschichte Gottes mit einbezogen ist, sondern dadurch, dass die Tora zu ihrem verfassungsrechtlichen Kern stilisiert wird. Das Gottesbild des Textes zeigt einen Gott, der seine offenbarten Rechtsgrundsätze, seine, ‫ משפט‬jedem Teil der Gesellschaft gleichermaßen zustehen. Witwen, Waisen und Fremde veranschaulichen diesen Gedanken. Witwen sind also hier eine Chiffre, um eine ideale, tora-zentrische Gesellschaftsordnung zu beschreiben” (2015: 293); cf. also Longenecker (2010:114). 28. Contra Sommer who is of the view that in the Second Temple period hardly any references to widows can be found (2015: 297).

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by Job is clearly presented as the credential of his faithfulness to God. It marks his identity as a faithful member of his Jewish people. The Essenes seem to have had some sort of system of poverty support as the Damascus Rule mentions a monthly collection to be distributed to the “poor and the needy, the aged sick and the homeless, the captives taken by foreign people, the virgin with no near kin, and the maiden for whom no man cares” (XIV 12-16).29 A later example from the Mishna provides an example of a woman who is a χήρα. The minimum subsistence to be granted to a temporarily defenseless wife through a protector/guardian gives an idea of what was considered a basic need to be covered: He must also give her (once a year) a cap for her head and a girdle for her loins; shoes (he must give her) each major festival; and clothing (of the value) of fifty zuz every year. She is not to be given new (clothes) in the summer or worn-out clothes in the winter, but must be given the clothing (of the value) of fifty zuz during the winter, and she clothes herself with them when they are worn-out during the summer; and the worn-out clothes remain her property. (m. Ketubbot 5:8)

These examples demonstrate that care and concern for those who were (and are) most vulnerable is core to the identity of the people Israel.30 Their support is not an added form of charity expressed at random or to enhance the reputation of the donor but an inherent right and its violation is an expression of disloyalty to God who had called them to be his people (cf. Hamel 1990: 216). Taking this tradition into account, the obligation to remember the poor, to which Paul unreservedly consents is thus more than a side reference to charitable support of those in need in Jerusalem. The obligation in Gal. 2:10 resonates with Job’s admonishing of those around him that they should εὐποιήσατε τοῖς πτωχοῖς, μὴ παρίδητε τοὺς ἀδυνάτους·(T.Job 45:2). In analogy to the people Israel, care for the poor and powerless (Rom. 15:1) is thus considered as inherent to the relationship to the one God of Israel for Christ-followers from the nations.31 In

29. Interestingly, a specific function for the distribution of this collection (mevakker) is also mentioned. 30. In the words of Seth Schwartz, “The Bible’s elaborate rules are meant to ensure that the charitable donation .  .  . never degenerates into the dependency-generating gift. The pauper, like the priest, is meant to feel no gratitude, at least not toward the donor. Rather charity is a prime expression of Israelite corporate solidarity.” (2010:18, also 26). Whether these examples demonstrate the existence of institutionalized or organized Jewish charity activities is an open question that is not the focus of my interest here. For a discussion of this aspect, cf. Gardner (2015: 8–26). 31. Cf. also Longenecker who emphasizes that “remembering the poor was to lie at the heart of the eschatological identity of communities he had founded, and was itself a practice integral to an embodied proclamation of the good news” (2010: 155).

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as much as it was and is an identity-designating aspect of Jewish identity, this obligation is expected of those from the nations in Christ.32 It is relevant that the obligation is passed on specifically to Paul, according to Gal. 2:10, the ἀπόστολος ἐθνῶν, with the implicit expectation that this should be part of his activities among the nations. Bruce Longenecker has argued that this needs to be considered in the context of the attitude and perception of poverty in Greek and Roman societies where concern for poor people was not entirely absent but was restricted mainly to temporary support for members of one’s own (mainly elite) group or association who had been so misfortunate as to fall into poverty (2010: 85). The system of patronage did not extend to those at the bottom of the poverty scale nor did the practice of hospitality. Thus although it cannot be argued that charitable activity and some concern for the poor were entirely unknown in the Greco-Roman world, it was very limited and any kind of organized poverty relief was actually absent.33 Solidarity with impoverished peers would be considered a noble act among the elite, but it was restricted to a limited period and it was expected that the peer eventually would overcome the predicament. Occasionally, charitable acts could extend beyond the own peer group, but again, not on a systematic or life-sustaining level. There is no evidence that poverty was seen as a problem in need to be addressed in a systematic way. Of course, charitable acts were generally considered honorable and commendable. There are also examples where the charitable act is linked to the worshipping of a deity, even regarded as an expression of ἐυσέβεια (Longenecker 2010: 96–104). But these again are rather exceptional and occasional examples, which demonstrate that some concern for poor and links of charitable acts to deities could potentially render the demand to “remember the poor” intelligible to a certain extent also to former pagans. But to be poor and deprived was first and foremost shameful. That poverty was not simply a matter of lack of material possessions and social injustice was acknowledged generally. It implied an inability to participate fully and honorably in social and religious activities (Hamel 2010: 316). The integration of support for those in need into the ethos of a community would have been an innovative practice for former pagans (not for Jewish Christfollowers of course). Although it is unclear to what extent there existed any systematically organized form of poverty relief in the first century, the ideal as such was an integral part of Jewish tradition (Gardner 2015: 10–13). Josephus mentions some role of the Temple in the collection of a third or poverty tithe, but it is difficult to determine its precise function and effect (Ant. 4:240). Synagogues, on the other hand, clearly seemed to have served as centers for charitable activities

32. For the connection between Jewish poverty relief and Christian practice in Late Antiquity, see Brown (2001). 33. The poor as a group or social category were invisible in antiquity. Cf. Brown (2005: 513–22); Woolf (1990). Woolf demonstrates that alimentary support for children was not a form of poverty relief as the recipients were selected according to their privileged status.

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already in the first century.34 There are also indications that criteria concerning who would qualify for such support were in existence in synagogue communities in the early centuries (Hamel 1990: 218). The pillars’ obligation to remember the poor which Paul fully embraces is an aspect that necessarily needs to be introduced, implemented, and explained in its core significance to Christ-followers from the nations as part of their “learning to be a gentile” (Fowl 2007; Ehrensperger 2009: 117–36).

Conclusions The concern for χήραι in 1 Timothy should be seen in this context. It is part of the obligation to “remember the poor” in analogy to contemporary Jewish practice. The guidance presented in 1 Tim. 5:3-16 can be seen as an attempt at translating implications of the obligation to “remember the poor,” and of Paul’s advice to widows to remain as they are, into practice. In light of this, the attempt at identifying who specifically is obligated to provide support for the needy could be seen as a practical solution to a practical problem rather than ideologically driven, that is, restricting the social power of χήραι. This is not to deny that this attempt is restrictive as far as support through the ἐκκλησία is concerned. Moreover, it is certainly driven by patriarchal perceptions of gender inequality. From a contemporary perspective, this gender perception is of course problematic to say the least. Nevertheless, the right of χήραι to get support is never doubted in any way. The question addressed is not whether a χήρα, “real,” or otherwise, should be supported. The question concerns who in each case should provide the support, family, future husband, or the ἐκκλησία sharing in this task. I proposed in this chapter to consider this passage in light of the obligation to “remember the poor” as the application of Jewish traditions of social justice (‫)צדקה‬ to the ἐκκλησίαι ἐθνῶν. This obligation together with other trajectories of Jewish tradition found in 1 Timothy is part of the identity-shaping ethos that emerges in the ἐκκλησία ἐθνῶν addressed here. Read in this vein, the letter presents significant aspects of an image of Paul, the Jewish apostle, as the διδάσκαλος ἐθνῶν.

References Bassler, J. M. (1996), 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, Titus, Nashville: Abingdon Press. Bassler, J. M. (2003), “Limits and Differentiation: The Calculus of Widows in 1 Timothy 5.3-16,” in Amy-Jill Levine (ed.), A Feminist Companion to the Deutero-Pauline Epistles, 122–46, London: T&T Clark.

34. Levine (2000: 132–33). Levine notes that in Late Antiquity synagogues actually became the center of communal social welfare systems (372–73).

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Belayche, N. (2010), “Deus deum .. summorum maximus (Apuleius): Ritual Expression of Distinction in the Divine World in the Imperial Period,” in S. Mitchell and P. Van Nuffelen (eds.), One God: Studies in Pagan Monotheism and Related Religious Ideas in the Roman Empire, 141–166, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Betz, H.-D. (1979), Galatians, Philadelphia: Fortress. Brown, P. (2001), Poverty and Leadership in the Later Roman Empire, Hanover: University Press of New England. Brown, P. (2005), “Remember the Poor and the Aesthetic of Society,” Journal of Interdisciplinary History 35: 513–22. Campbell, W. S. (2000), “Divergent Images of Paul and His Mission,” in C. Grenholm Cristina and D. Patte (eds.), Reading Israel in Romans: Legitimacy and Plausibility of Divergent Interpretations, 187–211, Harrisburg: Trinity Press International. Ehrensperger, K. (2009), Paul and the Dynamics of Power: Communication and Interaction in the Early Christ-Movement, London: T&T Clark. Ehrensperger, K. (2013), Paul at the Crossroads of Cultures: Theologizing in the SpaceBetween, London: T&T Clark. Ehrensperger, K. (2015), “The Question(s) of Gender: Relocating Paul in Relation to Judaism,” in M. Nanos and M. Zetterholm (eds.), Paul within Judaism: Restoring the First-Century Context to the Apostle, 245–76, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Engelmann, M. (2012), Unzertrennliche Drillinge? Motivsemantische Untersuchungen zum literarischen Verhältnis der Pastoralbriefe, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenchaft 192, Berlin: deGruyter. Fowl, S. (2007), “Learning to be a Gentile,” in A. Lincoln and A. Paddison (eds.), Christology and Scripture: Interdisciplinary Perspectives, 22–40, London: T&T Clark. Gardner, G. E. (2015), The Origins of Organized Charity in Rabbinic Judaism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hamel, G. (1990), Poverty and Charity in Roman Palestine: The First Three Centuries CE, Berkley : University of California Press. Hamel, G. (2010), “Poverty and Charity,” in C. Hezser (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Daily Life in Palestine, 308–24, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Herzer, J. (2004),“Abschied vom Konsens? Die Pseudepigraphie der Pastoralbriefe als Herausforderung an die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft,” Theologische Literaturzeitung 129: 1267–82. Herzer, J. (2011), “Die Pastoralbriefe im Licht der dokumentarischen Papyri,” in R. Deines, J. Herzer, and K.-W. Niebuhr (eds.), Neues Testament und hellenistisch-jüdische Alltagskultur, 319–46, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 274, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Herzer, J. (2014), “Was ist falsch an der ‘fälschlich so genannten Gnosis’? Zur Paulusrezeption des Ersten Timotheusbriefes im Kontext seiner Gegnerpolemik,” Early Christianity 5 (1): 68–96. Horrell, D. (2008), “Disciplining Performance and ‘Placing’ the Church: Widows, Elders and Slaves in the Household of God,” in K. Donfried (ed.), 1 Timothy Reconsidered, 109–34, Leuven: Peeters. Horsley, R. A. (2009), Covenant Economics: A Biblical Vision of Justice for All, Louisville: Westminster/John Knox. Hübner, S. M. (2013), The Family in Roman Egypt: A Comparative Approach to Intergenerational Solidarity and Conflict, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hutson, C. (2014), “‘Saved through Childbearing’: The Jewish Context of 1 Timothy 2:15,” Novum Testamentum 56: 392–410.

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Johnson, L. T. (2008), “First Timothy 1,1–20: The Shape of the Struggle,” in K. Donfried (ed.), 1 Timothy Reconsidered, 3–39, Leuven: Peeters. Krause, D. (2004), 1 Timothy, London: T&T Clark. Levine, L. I. (2000), The Ancient Synagogue: The First Thousand Years, New Haven: Yale University Press. Lieu, J. (2010), “The Battle for Paul in the Second Century,” Irish Theological Quarterly 75 (1): 3–14. Longenecker, B. W. (2010), Remember the Poor: Paul, Poverty and the Greco-Roman World, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Malherbe, A. J. (2011), “Godliness, Self-Sufficiency, Greed, and the Enjoyment of Wealth 1 Timothy 6:3-19: Part II,” Novum Testamentum 53: 73–96. Marshall, I. H. (1999), A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Pastoral Epistles, International Critical Commentary, Edinburgh: T&T Clark. Marshall, I. H. (2004), The Pastoral Epistles, London: T&T Clark. Martyn, J. L. (1997), Galatians, New York: Doubleday. Merz, A. (2007), “Amore Pauli. Das Corpus Pastorale und das Ringen um die Interpretationshoheit bezüglich des paulinischen Erbes,” Theologische Quartalschrift 187: 274–94. Mitchell, M. (2002), “PTEBT 703 and the Genre of 1 Timothy: The Curious Career of a Ptolemaic Papyrus in Pauline Scholarship,” Novum Testamentum 44 (4): 344–370. Mitchell, S. and P. Van Nuffelen (2010), One God: Pagan Monotheism in the Roman Empire, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mounce, W. D. (2000), Pastoral Epistles, World Biblical Commentary, Nashville: Thomas Nelson. Peterson, E. (1926; repr. 2012), ΕΙΣ ΘΕΟΣ: Epigraphische, formgeschichtliche und religionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen, repr. with appendices ed. by C. Markschies, Würzburg: Echter. Schwartz, S. (2010), Were the Jews a Mediterranean Society? Reciprocity and Solidarity in Ancient Judaism, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Sommer, M. (2015), “Witwen in 1 Tim 5. Eine subkulturelle Annäherung aus der Perspektive der Schriften Israels und ihrer Auswirkungen auf das frühe Christentum,” Annali di Storia dell’Esegesi 32 (2): 287–307. Sumney, J. L. (1999), “Servants of Satan,’ ‘False Brothers’ and Other Opponents of Paul, Journal for the Study of the New Testament, Supplement Series 188, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Towner, P. (2007), The Letters to Timothy and Titus, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Trebilco, P. (2008), The Early Christians in Ephesus from Paul to Ignatius, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Winter, B. (2003), Roman Wives, Roman Widows: The Appearance of New Women and the Pauline Communities, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Woolf, G. (1990), “Food, Poverty and Patronage: The Significance of the Epigraphy of the Roman Alimentary Schemes in Early Imperial Italy,” Papers of the British School at Rome 58: 197–228. Zamfir, K. (2010), “Asceticism and Otherworlds in the Acts of Paul and Thecla,” in T. Nicklas, J. Verheyden, E. Eynikel, and F. García Martínez (eds.), Other Worlds and Their Relation to this World: Early Jewish and Ancient Christian Traditions, 281–303, Leiden: Brill.

Part III T HE R EJECTION OF R ECEPTION OF P AUL? S EARCHING FOR P AUL’S O PPONENTS

Chapter 8 JEW AGAINST JEW: THE RECEPTION OF PAUL IN MATTHEW’S CHRISTIAN-JEWISH COMMUNITY1 David C. Sim

Introduction Internal Jewish disagreements and conflicts are as old as Judaism itself. In this study I wish to examine a Jewish dispute from the first century, the conflict between the apostle Paul and the evangelist Matthew. Whether we view this as an internal Jewish disagreement or as an internal Christian dispute is a matter of definition and perspective, and involves complex issues pertaining to both Jewish and Christian self-identification in the first century. A case can be made for both propositions, since Paul and Matthew were both ethnically or racially Jewish and self-professed believers in the messiahship of Jesus. The question that will concern us in this study is whether and how Paul and his distinctive version of the gospel were received in the community represented by the Gospel of Matthew. My own view, as I have argued for two decades, was that Matthew was inherently anti-Pauline; Paul was thus not well received in Matthew’s community. My critics have marshaled many arguments against this view, but a common thread is the proposition that Matthew either had no knowledge of Paul or little awareness of him, or was perhaps indifferent to him. In the opinion of these scholars, we cannot really even talk about the reception of Paul in Matthew’s Christian-Jewish community. This response is as surprising as it is unconvincing, and will be dealt with later in this study.

Paul and Matthew as Different Jewish Followers of Jesus The racial or ethnic Jewishness of Paul and Matthew is not really in dispute. In the case of Paul, we have his own statements that he was a Jew by birthright. He was

1. Some sections of this chapter are based upon a previous study (Sim 2013: 71–86). However, these sections have been rewritten and abbreviated, and in some cases updated in the light of more recent studies.

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a Hebrew with Hebrew parents (Phil. 3:5; cf. 2 Cor. 11:22), an Israelite through Abrahamic descent (Rom. 11:1; 2 Cor. 11:22), a member of the tribe of Benjamin (Rom. 11:1; Phil. 3:5), and circumcised according to Jewish law on the eighth day after his birth (Phil. 3:5). While it is perfectly clear that Paul was born a Jew, what is more debatable is his relationship to Judaism after his calling to be an apostle of the risen Christ. The issues here are very complex and multilayered, and I have dealt with them in previous studies. It is sufficient here simply to reiterate my position on this point. In an older work, I followed the arguments of E. P. Sanders (1983: 185–86) and H. Räisänen (1987: 75–77), among others, and argued that for the Christian Paul belief or faith in Christ was central and the observance of the ritual requirements of the Torah was no longer necessary. In his mission to the Gentiles Paul had himself dispensed with distinctive Jewish practices such as circumcision, the dietary and purity laws, and Sabbath observance, the very rituals that served as important markers of Jewish identity at that time. This was not simply a matter of theological conviction based upon his new Christian worldview that after the appearance of Christ there was no longer any distinction between Jew and Gentile (Rom. 10:12; 1 Cor. 12:13; Gal. 3:28; cf. Col. 3:11), but also one of practical necessity if Paul was to mix freely with Gentile Christians. On the vexed question as to whether Paul the follower of Jesus still identified his religious tradition as Judaism, it seemed more plausible that he knew that his new relationship with Christ necessitated a break with his former religion (cf. Gal. 1:13-14), although it is true that Paul did not coin another term to indicate this (Sim 1998: 21–24). I repeated and elaborated this position and the arguments in its favor in a more nuanced and later study (Sim 2009a: 51–55). Needless to say, I am very aware of the emerging alternative hypothesis that posits that the Christian Paul still observed the Torah and that the apostle must be situated firmly within first-century Judaism (e.g., Nanos and Zetterholm 2015). While this trend has provided a new and often insightful dimension to the issue of Paul’s post-conversion relationship to Judaism, it has failed to convince me to change my mind on any fundamental point. But for the purposes of this study, it does not really matter. No matter whether or not Paul intended to break with the Jewish tradition, the reality is that he was perceived to have done so by other Jews, both Christian Jews and non-Christian Jews, and was vilified as a result (Segal 1990: 144–45; Barclay 1995: 115–19). What will concern us later is how the Christian-Jewish Matthew perceived Paul and received the Pauline gospel. That Matthew was also a Jew by birth needs little defense these days. The unanimous testimony of the Church Fathers was that the Gospel of Matthew was written by a Jew for a Jewish readership. In the first third of the second century, Papias reported that the Gospel of Matthew was originally written in Hebrew (or Aramaic), which presumes a Jewish author and Jewish readers, and was then translated into Greek (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 3.19.15–16). A half century later Irenaeus maintained that Matthew composed a gospel for the Hebrews in their own language (Haer. 3.1.1). The Jewish background of Matthew became the unquestioned position of the Christian church in the subsequent centuries, and

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it remained unchallenged in critical scholarship until the middle of the twentieth century. There was a period from the 1940s to the 1980s when some influential scholars, especially the early German redaction critics, questioned the received wisdom and argued that the author of this gospel was in fact a Gentile (Davies and Allison 1988: 10–11), but this challenge to the consensus did not make a significant long-term impression. In the last three decades there has been no serious advocate for this position. The thoroughly Jewish nature of the Gospel of Matthew and its author is now virtually unchallenged in Matthean scholarship (Saldarini 1994: 194–206; Runesson 2011: 133–51). What has occupied scholars of this Gospel, however, is the very same issue that has dominated much Pauline scholarship. Had the Matthean community parted company with contemporary Judaism or did it identify itself as still within the orbit of a fractured and combative late first-century Jewish context? This intra muros/ extra muros debate has dominated Matthean studies for decades and it has been at the forefront of discussion in the last twenty-five years or so. In this case the view that prevails today is that the evangelist and his community, despite being in serious conflict with formative Judaism in the period following the Jewish war, still identified themselves within the parameters of a fluid post-70 CE Judaism (Sim 2011a: 36–40). They were Jewish followers of Jesus (or Christian Jews) who laid claim to representing the true or valid Jewish tradition in the light of the coming of the Messiah, and this brought them into dispute with other Jewish groups who rejected Jesus and who grounded their authority in the Pharisaic tradition. The Jewish nature of Matthew and his community is indicated by the fact that the Torah was to be fully obeyed to the last jot and tittle (Mt. 5:17-19), although according to the principles and interpretation set down by Jesus himself (cf. Mt. 5:21-48; 7:12; 12:1-14; 15:1-20; 19:1-19; 22:34-40; 23:23; Sim 1998: 123–39). This obedience to the Torah was also expected of Gentiles within the Matthean community. In addition to their faith in Jesus as Messiah, Gentile converts also needed to join the people of Israel and obey the Torah as a distinctive sign of their Christian commitment (Sim 1998: 247–55; 2009a: 58–60; 2011a: 42–43). Whatever view we take on Paul’s own observance of the Torah, his position that Gentiles were not bound by the ritual aspects of the Torah differed completely from that of the evangelist.

Matthew’s Reception of Paul, or Not Since Matthew wrote many decades after Paul, it is reasonable to explore the possibility that the evangelist knew the Pauline tradition and responded to it in one way or another when writing his Gospel. Such an enterprise is not new. The view that Matthew knew and opposed the Pauline gospel had support in certain German circles in the nineteenth century, but it fell from favor in the century that followed. In the middle of the twentieth century, S. G. F. Brandon mounted an argument that Matthew’s very Jewish Gospel contained critiques of Paul and his “liberal” theology at certain points (1957: 232–37), but his meager points were

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mercilessly attacked by W. D. Davies (1966: 334–40). In the following decades scholars showed little interest in the relationship between Paul and Matthew, but of those who did it is instructive to follow the trends that ensued (Sim 2002: 770–76). Initially scholars followed the lead of Davies and argued that Paul and Matthew were close theologically, but this was soon replaced by the position that these early Christians were different but complementary. The leading proponent of this view was U. Luz, and it pertinent to this study to state briefly his arguments. Luz contends that Matthew contains no explicit anti-Pauline polemic, despite the fact that he disagreed with the apostle over the validity of the Torah and over the issue of the relationship between the Christian tradition and Judaism. While Paul maintained that Judaism stood in sharp contrast to Christianity, Matthew saw no such opposition. In pinpointing the evangelist’s Christian theological location, Luz claims that Matthew in fact stood closer to the “Judaizers” who opposed Paul in Galatia than to the apostle himself, and Luz wryly remarks that had the two ever met they would not have been close friends (Luz 1993: 147–48). Yet Luz argues that we should resist the temptation to put Matthew and Paul at opposite ends of the early Christian theological spectrum because they share many areas of agreement—the priority of grace, the theology of works, the interior dimensions of righteousness, love as the core of the Law, and the universality of faith in Christ (Luz 1993: 150–52). I agree with much in Luz’s discussion. He is absolutely right to point out that Matthew and Paul agree with one another on a number of important points. This is not surprising. Both were Christians, followers of Jesus of Nazareth, whom they jointly regarded as Messiah and Lord, as crucified and vindicated, as the fulfiller of the ancient prophecies, and now residing in heaven with all power and authority until his triumphant return at the judgment. But we should not allow the many similarities between them to overshadow the issues that separated them. The major issue that divided Paul and Matthew, as Luz acknowledges, was the role of the Torah in the light of the Christ-event, and this was clearly no minor matter. It was this single issue that underlay the apostolic council, the dispute between Peter and Paul in Antioch (Gal. 2:11-14) and Paul’s conflict in Galatia and probably elsewhere. The place of the Mosaic Law in Christian life and practice was still a contentious issue in the late first century and into the second century, as the evidence of the Pastoral Epistles, the letter of James, and the writings of Ignatius of Antioch attest (Sim 1998: 172–81, 260–82). I have no doubt that Paul’s Christian-Jewish opponents in Galatia would have agreed with the apostle over all sorts of theological and Christological questions, but they bitterly disputed his understanding of the place of the Torah for Gentile converts and sought to undermine his apostleship and authority because of it. For his part, Paul responds in Galatians with a bitter polemic of his own. The lesson to be learned here is this. If the point of disagreement is fundamental and serious enough to both parties in a dispute, then it can easily outweigh the many other factors that they may share in common. For this reason, I think Luz’s otherwise excellent discussion goes awry by highlighting the agreements between Matthew and Paul at the expense of the absolutely fundamental matter that separated them. If, as Luz correctly claims,

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Matthew stood theologically close to Paul’s “judaizing” opponents in Galatia, then it would seem to follow logically that the Christian-Jewish Matthew would have responded to Paul in much the same way as they did. He would have overlooked their agreements and focused his attention on questioning Paul’s gospel and his claims to authority and leadership. This is the approach I have taken in the past twenty years. The provisional fruits of my research appeared in my 1998 monograph on the history and social setting of the Matthean community (Sim 1998: 188–211), in which I argued that this community was both Jewish and Christian, emphasizing both belief in Jesus as Messiah and full observance of the Torah. In the years since then I have published a number of articles that have refined and expanded that initial work. Let me present a very brief summary of the cumulative argument as it stands today. The triad of sayings in Mt. 5:17-19, whereby Jesus dispels the notion that he has abolished the Torah and affirms that every part of the Law is to be obeyed, is a clear refutation of the Pauline position that the Torah was only a temporary measure that has been brought to an end by Christ (Gal. 3:23-25; Rom. 10:4) (Sim 1998: 207–09; Sim 2009a: 50–64). The eschatological scenario in Mt. 7:21-23, in which Jesus condemns those who call him Lord because of their lawlessness (ἀνομία), is a strict condemnation of Law-free Christians and recalls Pauline passages such as Rom. 10:9-10 and 1 Cor. 12:3 (Sim 2007: 325–43). Likewise, the material created by Matthew in 13:36-43 makes the point that the Law-free Christian tradition has its origin in Satan and its members will be punished in the fires of Gehenna (Sim 1998: 203–07). The evangelist also confronts the issue of the leadership of the early Christian movement. While Mark presents the future leaders of the Jerusalem Church, the disciples and the family of Jesus, in a very poor light, Matthew rehabilitates both groups (Sim 1998: 188–99). In the heavily edited material in 16:17-19, Jesus proclaims the supremacy of Peter as the head of the church using the very language and motifs that Paul employs when referring to his own divine call and mission (Gal. 1:12-17; Sim 2009b: 401–22). At the end of the Gospel the risen Christ commissions the disciples to lead and oversee both the Jewish and Gentile missions (28:16-20), which completely undercuts Paul’s constant claim to have been appointed by the same figure to be the apostle to the Gentiles (e.g., Rom. 15:16; Gal. 1:16; Sim 2008a: 377–92). The point of these studies was not to show that Matthew simply differed from Paul. Rather, they attempted to demonstrate that in these heavily redacted passages the Christian-Jewish evangelist was consciously responding to and criticizing particular claims and theological positions that can be most easily identified with Paul. On the basis of parallels and intertextual echoes between certain Pauline and Matthean texts, I made a case that the evangelist probably had access to some of the Pauline letters (Sim 2009b: 402–11). Yet in arguing in this fashion, I tried to keep the extent of Matthew’s anti-Pauline polemic in perspective. The evangelist was motivated to write his story of Jesus by a number of factors and circumstances, and he used his narrative to discredit a number of opponents or contrary views (Sim 2011b: 491–515). The most immediate threat to Matthew’s community was that posed by Formative Judaism (Overman 1990; Sim 1998: 109–63), and for this

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reason the scribes and Pharisees receive the most polemical attention, but it is also clear that at certain points in his gospel Matthew took the opportunity to attack both Paul himself and his version of the gospel. There is more than enough evidence to establish that Matthew and his Christian-Jewish community knew the Pauline version of the gospel and had rejected it, just as other Christian Jews had done prior to them. In other words, the gospel of Paul was not well received in the community that produced the Gospel of Matthew. The scholarly reactions to my hypothesis have been divided. Concrete and detailed affirmations came from G. Theissen (2011: 465–90) and E. K. C. Wong (Wong 2011: 107–30), while other scholars were more critical in their appraisal (see Zangenberg 2008: 120; Willitts 2009: 150–58; 2011: 62–85; Foster 2011: 86–114; Iverson 2012: 7–32; Konradt 2013: 212). It is not possible here to analyze these critical studies in detail here, but I will highlight a number of their major points in relation to the issue of Matthew’s reception of Paul and respond briefly to these. Both Willitts and Foster contend that it is impossible ever to be sure that Matthew was directly attacking Paul. In the view of Willitts any comparison between these two Christian authors is nigh on impossible because they wrote from different social contexts using different genres, different rhetorical strategies, and so on. These sorts of issues make it extremely problematic to attempt any comparison or contrast as I had attempted (Willitts 2009: 155–56; 2011: 64–65). Foster goes even further by arguing that Matthew never refers to Paul and has no interest in the apostle, since the purpose of the Gospel is to tell the story of Jesus and encourage faith in his messiahship (Foster 2011: 86). I would respond to these points by referring to the work of U. Luz, who has correctly reminded us that the evangelist has written his story of Jesus on two distinct levels; one is the story of Jesus of Nazareth, while the other concerns the history of the Matthean church. Matthew shapes his narrative about Jesus to be meaningful for his intended readers and to address the issues that were most pressing to them at the end of the first century (Luz 2005: 27–28). Most scholars would agree that Matthew’s depiction of the conflict between Jesus and the scribes and Pharisees tells us more about the dispute between Matthew’s community and formative Judaism than about the historical Jesus and his scribal and Pharisaic opponents. In the same way we can interpret the sayings of the Matthean Jesus about true and false disciples or followers of Jesus as much more applicable to the time of the evangelist than to the time of the historical Jesus. On these grounds at least, it is permissible to examine the Gospel for possible or potential references to Paul and his particular gospel. But these critics have a further argument that is intended to kill stone dead any such possibility; Matthew was produced in an environment where Paul and his gospel were either not known or were little known. In the light of this, there would simply be no need to polemicize against Paul. We first find this line of argument in the work of Zangenberg, who argues that any contradictions between Matthew’s theology and Paul’s theology are simply coincidental and not deliberate on the evangelist’s part (2008: 120). Similar claims are put forward by Willitts (2011: 83–84) and Konradt (2013: 212). Konradt warns that we should

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not assume that from the importance of Paul in the Christian canon that he was influential or important in the decades following his death. This distancing of Paul and Matthew also features prominently in the work of Foster. Foster claims that we cannot be sure whether or not Matthew was even aware of Paul and his teachings (2011: 87, 114). Noting that modern readers might be bemused by this contention, Foster believes that his claim can be explained in a number of ways: 1. Matthew was completely isolated theologically and had never heard of Paul; 2. Paul was less significant in the time of Matthew so there was no need to mention him; or 3. Matthew knew of Paul but thought he was irrelevant for his own theological project (Foster 2011: 114). Whatever their differences in detail or nuance, all of these scholars make the same claim that Matthew wrote his Gospel in a location where Paul and his theology were either not known at all or were barely known. In the view of these scholars there can be no question of Paul’s reception in the Matthean community because the apostle was unknown or hardly known by this Christian-Jewish group. How plausible is this claim? One might be able to argue in this fashion if Matthew were written in the late first century in Chinese for Chinese readers or for other readers in their local language well beyond the Mediterranean world. But Matthew was written in Greek, the common language of the Roman Empire, and it must be situated somewhere in that large geographical region. It is of course possible that Matthew was composed in some remote outpost of the Empire, but this is unlikely for a number of reasons. First, the Gospel gives every indication that it was written in a substantial city with a Jewish population large enough for it to have included a number of synagogues. Second, R. Bauckham has shown that there was extensive communication and interaction between the various Christian communities in the first century (1998: 19–48), and this makes it extremely difficult to find any part of the Greek-speaking Christian world (or even the Aramaic-speaking Christian world for that matter) that had no knowledge of Paul. That Matthew’s city was definitely included in the Christian network is clear from the fact that the Gospel of Mark, the Q tradition (however defined), and other unique materials about Jesus (the so-called M tradition), had made their way into the Matthean community. The case of Mark has a further aspect to it. If, as many scholars accept, Mark was written from a Pauline perspective (see most recently Crossley 2011: 10–29; Wischmeyer, Sim, and Elmer 2014; Becker, Engberg-Pedersen, and Müller 2014), then the mere fact that Matthew knew Mark provides sufficient evidence that the former was familiar with the Pauline tradition. And if it is true, as I have argued, that Matthew wrote his Gospel to replace Mark’s flawed Paulineinfluenced account of Jesus’s mission (Sim 2011c: 176–92), then we must conclude that Matthew knew a lot about Paul and his theology. Let us consider now more concretely the logic or otherwise of the view that Matthew and his community had little or no knowledge of the apostle and the version of the gospel he championed. First, over his thirty-year career as a Christian, Paul was active in a number of Christian centers—three years in the Damascus Church (Gal. 1:17-18) and some twelve years in the Antiochene Church (Gal. 1:21; 2:1). After leaving Antioch around the year 49 after his public dispute with Peter, Paul established many

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churches in Asia Minor and Greece, staying for prolonged periods in Ephesus and Corinth. As a Christian Paul also traveled to Jerusalem three times (Gal. 1:18-20; 2:1-10; Acts 21:17). The much-traveled apostle probably knew personally more followers of Jesus than any other Christian at that time. He was so well known and so well connected that he could write with some authority to the church in Rome, even though he had not founded that church. The apostle had not even visited the Christians in Rome (cf. Rom. 1:10-13; 15:22-24), yet it is clear from his personal greetings in chapter 16 that he knew many of them personally. Paul was thus known from Jerusalem to Rome and in all points in between. Second, Paul was a participant at the so-called apostolic council in Jerusalem around the year 48 (Gal. 2:1-10; cf. Acts 15:1-39). We should not undervalue this fact. As far as we know, the apostolic council was the one and only meeting in the first century that was convened between the two major streams of the Christian movement to iron out a significant difference between them. This meeting involved the major Christian centers in Jerusalem and Antioch, and was called to settle the issue of Law observance for Gentile Christian converts. Paul and Acts provide two different accounts of this meeting and it is likely that Paul’s opponents in Galatia circulated an entirely different version (Elmer 2009: 151–54). Given the importance of the Law issue for Gentile Christians, it must be assumed that many or most followers of Jesus, no matter where they stood on the matter of Law observance, would have heard about the meeting in Jerusalem and Paul’s participation in it. Thus Paul would have been widely known throughout the Christian world for his part in this unique meeting, although whether he was cast as the villain or the hero would vary according to the different versions. Third, Paul was a very contentious and controversial figure. He claimed to have had an experience of the risen Christ that was the same as those experienced by Peter, James, and others in the Jerusalem church (1 Cor. 15:3-8), but there were many who did not believe him and who thereby questioned his apostolic credentials (Sim 2006: 1–12). He had a public conflict with Peter in Antioch in the aftermath of the apostolic council (Gal. 2:11-14), which led to him leaving Antioch and beginning new missions in Asia Minor and Greece. In those missions he was opposed by Christian Jews with links to Jerusalem who sought to impose the Torah on his Gentile converts. These people questioned Paul’s apostolic status and the validity of his gospel (Elmer 2009: 117–96). Paul’s notoriety would have ensured that he was a well-known, well-discussed, and a very polarizing figure throughout the early Christian world. More could be said on this issue, but the above points establish very firmly that Paul, his gospel and his various conflicts and battles must have been very widely known in the early Christian movement during his lifetime. It is reasonable to conclude that most Christians, whether supporters or critics of the apostle, must have known a good deal about his life and his particular version of the gospel. There is every reason to think that Paul’s influence and reputation did not diminish in the decades following his death. The apostle’s letters were collected early on and by the late first century they were circulating around the Christian world as a distinct and authoritative corpus

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(Richards 2004: 156–61, 214–15, 218–19). Ignatius of Antioch knew many of the Pauline epistles early in the second century and made constant reference to them in his own letters (Sim 1998: 262–69; 2008b: 148–51), and a little later the author of 2 Peter in 3:15-16 refers to them specifically as Scripture (αἱ γραφαί). But the evidence does not end there. The warning of Konradt noted above that we should not confuse Paul’s importance in the canon with his actual influence in the late first century actually speaks against the point Konradt wishes to make. The reality is that much of the New Testament literature, which was written in the decades after Paul’s death, shows widespread Pauline influence (Ziesler 1989: 122–35). Ephesians, Colossians, 2 Thessalonians, and the three Pastoral Epistles were all written in the name of Paul, and perhaps 2 Thessalonians as well. The fact that these pseudepigraphical letters were composed in the name of the apostle toward the end of the first century testifies to Paul’s continuing and widespread influence. There would be little point writing in the name of the apostle if his name did not carry the utmost authority for the intended readers. In addition Luke wrote the Acts of the Apostles at this time, the second half of which is devoted almost exclusively to the missions of Paul. This hagiographical tradition also testifies to the importance of Paul in this period. On the other side of the coin, we find in the epistle of James a probable critique of Paul’s theology in the same period (Hengel 2002: 511–48), or at the very least a refinement of it (Konradt 1998: 210–13, 241– 46; Zangenberg 2008: 117–20). This response by the author of James provides concrete evidence that Paul and his letters were well known and influential at this time. If they were not, then there would have been no need to criticize or refine his position. The above evidence indicates very strongly that in the latter part of the first century knowledge of Paul and his letters was widespread throughout the Christian world and that the apostle was highly influential in many quarters but criticized in others. The claim that Matthew was written in a Greek-speaking Christian milieu ignorant of Paul (or largely so) simply strains credulity. No matter where we situate Matthew and his home community within the Roman Empire, it has to be conceded that they must have known a good deal about Paul’s life, gospel, and theology. But even if this is accepted, it might well be the case that Matthew was simply not interested in the apostle, a possibility raised by Foster. Standing in a different Christian tradition, the evangelist may have been completely indifferent to Paul, and saw no need to refer to the apostle or his theology in his own narrative about Jesus of Nazareth; he was neither pro-Pauline nor anti-Pauline but was just un-Pauline (Stanton 1992: 314). While many scholars agree with this neutral position, it seems to me to be inherently implausible. Apart from the points made above, that during his own lifetime Paul was a high-profile and very contentious figure and that Pauline influence was widespread and increasing its influence in the late first century, the Gospel of Matthew deals with issues that the apostle and his later followers were very much concerned with. These include the role of the Torah in the Christian community, the origin and terms of the Gentile mission, and the question of leadership and authority in the early church. On a priori

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grounds we might expect that Matthew would have been extremely interested in Paul’s position on these and other matters, and responded to them in his Gospel narrative. And as I have argued in many studies, this is precisely what we find.

Conclusions In the writings of Paul and Matthew we have two rather different Jewish responses to the coming of the Messiah in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. While Paul adopted a liberal view of the Mosaic Law in the light of the Messiah’s appearance and placed more weight on the concept of faith in Christ, Matthew, like most Jewish believers in Jesus in the first century, accepted that all the Torah had to be observed in addition to belief in Jesus as Messiah and Lord (cf. Mt. 7:21-23). We would expect that the apostle’s “Law-free” gospel would not have been well received in the evangelist’s Christian-Jewish community, and this expectation is confirmed in the Gospel itself. Matthew rewrote or omitted the Pauline elements in his Markan source, and he took the opportunities when available in his narrative to polemicize directly against Paul and his distinctive version of the Christian message. Although critics have attempted to undermine this hypothesis by maintaining that Matthew had perhaps never heard of Paul or would have been indifferent to him, neither of these arguments carries any conviction. Paul was famous (or infamous) during his lifetime, and he was still a figure of contention in the late first century when Matthew was written. His epistles were distributed around the Christian world, and a hagiographical tradition was well established and developing, as evidenced by the Acts of the Apostles and the Deutero-Pauline literature. The epistle of James was one attempt from the other side to stem the flow and correct the Pauline gospel, and Matthew can be seen as a further attempt. We have in the case of Matthew and Paul a clear example of both Jew against Jew and Christian against Christian. The latest trend in Matthean studies to argue against Matthew’s anti-Paulinism by suggesting that there was simply no reception of the Pauline tradition in the Matthean community carries no weight at all.

References Barclay, J. M. G. (1995), “Paul among Diaspora Jews: Anomaly or Apostate?” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 60: 89–120. Bauckham, R. (1998), “For Whom Were Gospels Written?” in R. Bauckham (ed.), The Gospels for All Christians: Rethinking the Gospel Audiences, 9–48, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Becker, E.-M., T. Engberg-Pedersen, and M. Müller, eds (2014), Mark and Paul. Comparative Essays Part II: For and Against Pauline Influence on Mark, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 199, Berlin: de Gruyter. Brandon, S. G. F. (1957), The Fall of Jerusalem and the Christian Church, London: SPCK.

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Crossley, J. G. (2011), “Mark, Paul and the Question of Influences,” in M. F. Bird and J. Willitts (eds.), Paul and the Gospels: Christologies, Conflicts and Convergences, Library of New Testament Studies 411, 10–29, London: T&T Clark International. Davies, W. D. (1966), The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Davies, W. D., and D. C. Allison, (1988), A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, Vol. 1, International Critical Commentary, Edinburgh: T&T Clark. Elmer, I. J. (2009), Paul, Jerusalem and the Judaisers: The Galatian Crisis in its Broadest Historical Context, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2.258, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Foster, P. (2011), “Paul and Matthew: Two Strands of the Early Jesus Movement with Little Sign of Connection,” in M. F. Bird and J. Willitts (eds.), Paul and the Gospels: Christologies, Conflicts, Convergences, Library of New Testament Studies 411, 86–114, London: T&T Clark International. Hengel, M. (2002), “Der Jakobusbrief als antipaulinische Polemik,” in M. Hengel (ed.), Paulus und Jakobus: Kleine Schriften, III, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 141, 511–48, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Iverson, K. R. (2012), “An Enemy of the Gospel? Anti-Paulinisms and Intertextuality in the Gospel of Matthew,” in C. W. Skinner and K. R. Iverson (eds.), Unity and Diversity in the Gospels: Essays in Honor of Frank J. Matera, 7–32, Atlanta: SBL. Konradt, M. (1998), Christliche Existenz nach dem Jakobusbrief. Eine Studie zu seiner soteriologischen und ethischen Konzeption, Studien zur Umwelt des Neuen Testaments 22, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Konradt, M. (2013), “Matthäus und Markus: Überlegungen zur matthäischen Stellung zum Markusevangelium,” in P. von Gemünden, D. G. Horrell, and M. Küchler (eds.), Gestalt und Gestaltungen. Rezeptionen des Galiläers in Wissenschaft, Kirche und Gesellschaft, Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus100, 211–36, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Luz, U. (1993), The Theology of the Gospel of Matthew, Nork Teologisk Tidsskrift, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Luz, U. (2005), Studies in Matthew, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Nanos, M. D., and M. Zetterholm, eds (2015), Paul within Judaism: Restoring the FirstCentury Context to the Apostle, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Overman, J. A. (1990), Matthew’s Gospel and Formative Judaism: The Social World of the Matthean Community, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Räisänen, H. (1987), Paul and the Law, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 29, 2nd ed., Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Richards, E. R. (2004), Paul and First-Century Letter Writing: Secretaries, Compositions and Collection, Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press. Runesson, A. (2011), “Judging Gentiles in the Gospel of Matthew: Between ‘Othering’ and Inclusion,” in D. M. Gurtner, J. Willitts, and R. A. Burridge (eds.), Jesus, Matthew’s Gospel and Early Christianity: Studies in Memory of Graham N. Stanton, Library of New Testament Studies 445, 133–51, London: T&T Clark International. Saldarini, A. J. (1994), Matthew’s Christian-Jewish Community, Chicago Studies in the History of Judaism, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Sanders, E. P. (1983), Paul, the Law, and the Jewish People, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Segal, A. F. (1990), Paul the Convert: The Apostolate and Apostasy of Saul the Pharisee, New Haven: Yale University Press.

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Sim, D. C. (1998), The Gospel of Matthew and Christian Judaism: The History and Social Setting of the Matthean Community, Studies of the New Testament and Its World, Edinburgh: T&T Clark. Sim, D. C. (2002), “Matthew’s Anti-Paulinism: A Neglected Feature of Matthean Studies,” Hervormde Teologiese Studies 58 (2): 767–83. Sim, D. C. (2006), “The Appearances of the Risen Christ to Paul: Identifying their Implications and Complications,” Australian Biblical Review, 54: 1–12. Sim, D. C. (2007), “Matthew 7.21–23: Further Evidence of Its Anti-Pauline Perspective,” New Testament Studies 53 (3): 325–43. Sim, D. C. (2008a), “Matthew, Paul and the Origin and Nature of the Gentile Mission: The Great Commission in Matthew 28:16–20 as an Anti-Pauline Tradition,” Hervormde Teologiese Studies 64 (1): 377–92. Sim, D. C. (2008b), “Matthew and Ignatius,” in D. C. Sim and B. Repschinski (eds.), Matthew and His Christian Contemporaries, Library of New Testament Studies 333, 139–54, London: T&T Clark International. Sim, D. C. (2009a), “Paul and Matthew on the Torah: Theory and Practice,” in P. Middleton, A. Paddison and, K. Wennell (eds.), Paul, Grace and Freedom: Essays in Honour of John K. Riches, 50–64, London: Continuum. Sim, D. C. (2009b), “Matthew and the Pauline Corpus: A Preliminary Intertextual Study,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 31: 401–22. Sim, D. C. (2011a), “Matthew: The Current State of Research,” in E.-M. Becker and A. Runesson (eds.), Mark and Matthew I. Comparative Readings: Understanding the Earliest Gospels in their First-Century Settings, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 271, 33–51, Mohr Siebeck: Tübingen. Sim, D. C. (2011b), “Polemical Strategies in the Gospel of Matthew,” in O. Wischmeyer and L. Scornaienchi (eds.), Polemik in der frühchristlichen Literatur: Texte und Kontexte, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 170, 491–515, Berlin: de Gruyter. Sim, D. C. (2011c), “Matthew’s Use of Mark: Did Matthew Intend to Supplement or to Replace His Primary Source?” New Testament Studies 57 (2): 176–92. Sim, D. C. (2013), “Conflict in the Canon? The Pauline Literature and the Gospel of Matthew,” in W. Mayer and B. Neil (eds.), Religious Conflict from Early Christianity to the Rise of Islam, 71–86, Berlin: de Gruyter. Stanton, G. N. (1992), A Gospel for a New People: Studies in Matthew, Edinburgh: T&T Clark. Theissen, G. (2011), “Kritik an Paul im Matthäusevangelium? Von der Kunst verdeckter Polemik im Urchristentum,” in O. Wischmeyer and L. Scornaienchi (eds.), Polemik in der frühchristlichen Literature: Texte und Kontexte, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 170, 465–90, Berlin: de Gruyter. Willitts, J. (2009), “The Friendship of Matthew and Paul: A Response to a Recent Trend in the Interpretation of Matthew’s Gospel,” Hervormde Teologiese Studies 65 (1): 150–58. Willitts, J. (2011), “Paul and Matthew: A Descriptive Approach from a Post-New Perspective Interpretive Framework,” in M. F. Bird and J. Willitts (eds.), Paul and the Gospels: Christologies, Conflicts, Convergences, Library of New Testament Studies 411, 62–85, London: T&T Clark International. Wischmeyer, O., D. C. Sim, and I. J. Elmer, eds (2014), Paul and Mark. Comparative Essays Part I: Two Authors at the Beginnings of Christianity, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 198, Berlin: de Gruyter.

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Wong, E. K. C. (2011), Evangelien im Dialog mit Paulus, Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus 89, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Zangengerg, J. K. (2008), “Matthew and James,” in D. C. Sim and B. Repschinski (eds.), Matthew and His Christian Contemporaries, Library of New Testament Studies 333, 104–22, London: T&T Clark International. Ziesler, J. (1989), Pauline Christianity, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Chapter 9 PAUL AMONG HIS ENEMIES? EXPLORING POTENTIAL PAULINE THEOLOGICAL TRAITS IN THE PSEUDO-CLEMENTINES Giovanni B. Bazzana

Since the very beginning of the modern critical engagement with the PseudoClementine novel, the text’s supposed aversion toward Paul has always attracted the attention of readers interested in mining the novel in order to obtain new information about the earliest stages of Christian history.1 As such, the issue of a Pseudo-Clementine opposition toward the apostle of the Gentiles represents an almost perfect epitome of the biased and instrumental use of the novel against which the most recent wave of scholarship has appropriately and successfully reacted. Elsewhere, I have argued that the Pseudo-Clementine passages that are usually considered most overtly anti-Pauline were not in all likelihood part of the novel’s Grundschrift, but were introduced by the redactors who composed the Homilies and the Recognitions between the fourth and fifth century CE. The Grundschrift was arguably put together in the third century, a hypothesis that is confirmed by Origen’s likely reference to this earlier version of the Pseudo-Clementines in a fragment preserved in Philocalia 23. Epiphanius (in Panarion Haer. 30.15.1) gives what is possibly the original title of the Grundschrift as Periodoi Petrou in his treatment of the Ebionites. The relative antiquity attributed to this hypothetical writing has led generations of scholars to mine it in order to rediscover hidden sources and traditions that could go back to the second century and, in some cases, even earlier. Not by chance, such an approach to the critical study of the novel was inaugurated by Ferdinand Christian Baur and his collaborators in the so-called School of Tübingen. For these scholars the Pseudo-Clementines provided fundamental evidence to imagine the dialectical interaction between Jewish and Gentile Christianity that ultimately led to the formation of Frühkatholizismus at the end of the second century. In this perspective, the stance taken by traditional scholarship (in large part following the lead of early Christian heresiologists, such as Epiphanius of Salamis) has been that of considering the Pseudo-Clementines as the paradigmatic 1. Jones (1982); Lüdemann (1983); Cirillo (2001); Verheyden (2004); and Wehnert (2013).

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embodiment of ancient Jewish-Christian doctrines (for instance, Strecker 1981). However, more recent scholarly interventions have pointed out how “JewishChristianity” (a label that is entirely a modern creation) appears to be a category whose definition defies any attempt at systematization, even after several decades of rather heated discussions (Jackson-McCabe 2007). More importantly, it has been noted that the very label “Jewish-Christianity” has operated as a marginalizing tool of great effectiveness, particularly with respect to the Pseudo-Clementine materials (Boyarin 2009). Thus, the novel’s circulation and relevance ends up being restricted to supposedly fringe groups that clang anachronistically to a double Jewish and Christian identity decades after these issues had already been sorted out through the “parting of the ways” between the two religions. On the contrary, the widespread knowledge of the Pseudo-Clementine literature among early Christian writers across several centuries and geographical locations attests to the fact that the currency of these materials was far from a fringe phenomenon. To this, one should also add that the unacknowledged heresiological nature of the label “Jewish-Christianity” further “cages” the Pseudo-Clementine texts by implicitly inscribing them within the dialectical and teleological paradigm that has been mentioned above and that ultimately goes back to the nineteenth-century elaborations of Baur and his school. The crucial methodological issue here is the apparently unending influence exercised by the dialectic paradigm proposed by the Tübingen school and, through it, by the early Christian heresiological systematization. There is little doubt that, within such a scheme, the role played by the supposed Pseudo-Clementine antiPaulinism is key and that such circumstances lead scholars to cling to the traditional notion—often in an unacknowledged way—despite all the evidence to the contrary. The other side of the coin with respect to “Jewish-Christianity” is obviously the representation of Paul as an unflinching champion of a universalizing and antiTorah Gentile-Christianity. But recent scholarship has shown that the image of the “authentic Paul” is deeply tied up with nineteenth-century developments in Lutheran theology (White 2014), while alternative imaginations have been gaining considerable track in the field. In this article I will try to take advantage of the most recent developments in Pauline scholarship inasmuch as the latter have led to a reconsideration of the figure of the apostle as part of Second Temple Judaism and of his connection with the later trajectory of Christian thought from Late Antiquity down to Modern Europe. Despite this being a well-established interpretive option in Pauline studies (Stendhal 1963), this reframing of the conversation has not made its effects felt in Pseudo-Clementine scholarship at all. In this perspective, it becomes quite intriguing to evaluate whether the Pseudo-Clementine opposition to the apostle does not actually hide an agreement with some of the positions maintained by the “historical Paul” once the latter’s theological figure is conceived in different terms. Obviously, the value of such an analysis can only lie less in the confirmation of a certain “authentic” profile of Paul (which remains an ultimately unattainable goal) than in disturbing some traditional interpretive and historiographical paradigms. As mentioned briefly above, the Pseudo-Clementine novel is extant in two different versions. One of them is preserved in full in Greek and is usually given

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the title of Homilies, while the other one survives only in a Latin translation (composed at the beginning of the fifth century by Rufinus of Aquileia) and in a partial Syriac version, which are cumulatively given the title Recognitions. The two versions of the novel (despite what one can imagine looking at their titles) are largely identical in their plots and in the contents of the speeches that are mostly put in the mouth of the main character, Peter. The similarities and the minor concomitant differences have led scholars to hypothesize that the two versions derived from an earlier Grundschrift, which in turn might be reconstructed by comparing the two redactions, following a methodological procedure largely similar to the one usually adopted to reconstruct Q out of the texts of Matthew and Luke (Amsler 2005). The present contribution will limit itself to the analysis of passages attributable to this Grundschrift, datable to the end of the second or the beginning of the third century and reconstructed in its “minimal” form, by taking into consideration only sections that are actually extant in parallel forms both in the Homilies and in the Recognitions.2

“Two Channels” of Salvation in the Pseudo-Clementine Grundschrift The major plotline of the Pseudo-Clementine novel is structured around Clement’s quest for fulfilling answers concerning the salvation of the soul and incidentally for the reunion with his long-lost family. The Pseudo-Clementine author(s) artfully combined such a novelistic motif with the more doctrinal and heresiological theme of the confrontation between Peter and Simon Magus, so that the setting of the events moves through a series of Eastern Mediterranean cities, in which the apostle chases and defeats repeatedly his nemesis. Following the line of thought sketched in the introductory paragraphs, a very interesting passage occurs already at the very beginning of Peter’s missionary activity outside of the Land of Israel. When the apostle arrives in Tripolis, he begins his preaching activity in that city by stating that revelation from God requires both believing and the performance of “deeds” in order to earn salvation. Then, Peter goes on to talk about the relationship between the divine revelation communicated through Moses and the one communicated through Jesus. It is worth reading first the Recognitions version of Peter’s speech (R IV 5.5–8, from Rehm 1994: 149) and then the parallel text from the Homilies, because they cannot be very effectively displayed in a synoptic presentation. Therefore it is appropriate for the special gift given by God to the Hebrews that they may believe Moses, while it is appropriate for the one given to the nations that they may love Jesus. For also the Teacher hinted at this when he said: “I praise you, Father, lord of the heaven and of the earth, because you have

2. See the two preliminary attempts at a reconstruction of the Grundschrift in Wehnert (1992) and Jones (2001) (republished in Jones (2012: 114–37)).

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hidden these things from the wise and the sensible and you have revealed them to the small ones”. (6) Through this statement it is certainly affirmed why the people of the Hebrews, who had been educated in the Law (qui ex Lege eruditus est), did not recognize him [Jesus], while the people coming from the nations (populus autem gentium) recognized and worship Jesus. For this reason, they will be saved, not only because they recognize him, but also because they do his will. (7) Indeed someone, who comes from the nations and has received from God the gift of loving Jesus (ex Deo habet ut diligat Iesum), must also have from himself the goal of believing in Moses as well (proprii habere propositi ut credat et Moysi). (8) And again a Hebrew, who has received from God the gift of believing in Moses, must also have from himself the goal of believing in Jesus, so that either of them, having in himself a part of divine gift and another part of his own diligence (aliud divini muneris, aliud propriae industriae), may be perfect under both respects (sit ex utroque perfectus). For our Lord used to speak about such a rich man, who takes from his treasures both new and old things.

This very complex passage contains a theologically sophisticated attempt to make sense and reconcile the two revelations (or the two covenants) through which God has been in contact with humankind in Moses and Jesus. The Recognitions solve this duplicity into a fundamental unity, concluding that belief in Moses and Jesus are ultimately belief in the same thing, so that—in order to be complete (perfectus)—a Jew should also believe in Jesus’s revelation and in turn a Gentile should also believe in Moses’s revelation. It is interesting to note that the parallel to this passage in the Homilies (H 8.6.1–7.2, from Rehm 1992: 124) takes a decidedly different path. Therefore, for this reason, Jesus is kept hidden from the Hebrews, who have received Moses as a teacher, and Moses is concealed from those who have believed in Jesus. (2) For, since the teaching transmitted through both is one, God accepts the person who has believed in either of them. (3) But believing to a teacher occurs for the sake of performing the actions that are told by God. (4) That this is the truth is confirmed by our Lord himself: “I praise you, father of the heaven and of the earth, because you hid these things from the wise elders and you revealed them to suckling babies”. (5) Thus, God himself hid a teacher [Jesus] from some [the Hebrews], because they already knew what they must do (ὡς προεγνωκόσιν ἃ δεῖ πράττειν), but revealed him to others [the nations], because they do not know what they need to do (ὡς ἀγνοοῦσιν ἃ χρὴ ποιεῖν). (7.1) Therefore neither the Hebrews are condemned with regard to their ignorance of Jesus on account of the one who hid [Jesus], if they, following the commandments of Moses, do not hate the one whom they did not know (ὃν ἠγνοήσαν μὴ μισήσωσιν), (2) nor in turn those coming from among the nations, who did not know Moses, are condemned on account of the one who concealed [Moses], if they too, following what has been said through Jesus, do not hate the one whom they did not know (μὴ μισήσωσιν ὃν ἠγνοήσαν).

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It is clear that the two passages are close parallels (a feature highlighted in particular by the lexical similarities and by the occurrence of the same relatively free quotation from Mt. 11:25/Lk. 10:21). Moreover, both texts deal with the same theological issue sketched above: How to reconcile the existence of the two competing divine revelations communicated through Moses and Jesus? Both Pseudo-Clementine versions intend to maintain the fundamental validity of both revelations, but the path they follow to get there is radically different. In the Homilies one does not see the same effort as in the Recognitions to establish the foundational identity of the two revelations and, more importantly, the text just quoted does not require that believers in either of the two revelations also believe in the other one. On the contrary, the passage from the Homilies clearly states that believing either in Moses or Jesus is sufficient to achieve salvation. The text even provides a theological rationale for the Jewish lack of knowledge of Jesus and the Gentile lack of knowledge of Moses. In both cases, ignorance is all part of God’s preordained plan, since either revelation is sufficient in and of itself to achieve the goal. It is not easy to establish which of these two versions comes from the PseudoClementine Grundschrift. However, scholars who have examined this issue in recent years tend to agree that the Homilies have preserved the most “original” version of this text.3 In this perspective, it is clear that the version preserved in the Recognition is certainly more viable for the theological sensitivities of later orthodox Christianity, a feature that appears to be quite typical of the redactor(s) of the Recognitions who have indeed expunged from the novel that they received all those doctrines that could have looked dangerously “heterodox” (such as the notoriously irksome “doctrine of the false pericopes”). That being said, if the Homilies have better preserved the theological profile of the Grundschrift on the issue at hand, this might have significant consequences for the theme of the alleged anti-Paulinism in the Pseudo-Clementines. As noted above, despite the “demonization” of its adversaries that is usually attributed (with some reason) to the novel, the passage quoted above ends with two exhortatory sentences inviting Jews and Gentiles, who have become followers of Jesus, not to hate each other, even though they are ignorant about the others’s beliefs. Moreover, as noted insightfully by Annette Yoshiko Reed, the passage at hand, if it is considered representative of “Jewish-Christianity,” does disturb quite significantly the too often-rehashed rhetorical association between Paulinism and “universalism” on the one hand and Judaism and “particularism” on the other (Reed 2008: 191–95). Indeed, the theological effort to “convert” everyone to the absolute authority of only one revelation can hardly be qualified as “universalistic.” On the contrary, the attempt to establish a rationale through which different revelations (and the beliefs and practices stemming from them) can live together without hatred and conflicts can be labeled as “particularism” only within a perspective heavily biased by polemical hostility.

3. Jones (2008), now republished in Jones (2012: 147–48) and Reed (2012: 213–17).

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The stance taken by the Pseudo-Clementine Grundschrift on this issue can well be understood as one in which humans have at their disposal two “channels” of salvation: Moses for the Jews and Jesus for those who are of non-Jewish origin. Interestingly, a similar theological option has been proposed as an alternative reading of Paul’s “authentic” epistolary, in contrast to a traditional interpretation for which the only necessary means to achieve salvation was identified in the personalized and internalized faith in Christ. While the traditional approach has provided a valuable support for the classic understanding of the alleged PseudoClementine anti-Paulinism, it is worth asking whether the entire picture might change when one takes into consideration the more recent and more innovative readings of Paul. For instance, several scholars (who are sometimes grouped under the label of “radical new perspective” on Paul, as in Zetterholm 2009: 127–63) have been pushing for a few decades now for an understanding of the apostle as assuming the continuing validity of two parallel covenants (or “channels” of salvation): an older one between God and Israel through Moses and a newer one between God and the non-Jewish believers through Christ (Gaston 1987 and Gager 2000). There is no space here even for a brief discussion of this crucial point in current Pauline scholarship, but it should suffice to observe that such a radical change of perspective on the apostle’s theological outlook would entail the discovery of a hidden convergence between Paul and the Pseudo-Clementines as well as a significant challenge to paradigms of early Christian history that have been in place since the times of Ferdinand Christian Baur.

A Community of Jews and Gentiles The above mentioned concern of the Pseudo-Clementine Grundschrift for the harmonious cohabitation of Christ believers of Jewish and Gentile backgrounds is a subtext that runs practically throughout the entire novel. Indeed, despite what one is led to imagine for a text that is commonly associated with “JewishChristianity,” the central concern of the Pseudo-Clementines must be identified in the “conversion” of people coming from a “pagan” context, while Jews per se are of very limited interest for the author(s). This state of affairs is reflected also at a narrative level in the very plot of the novel, which is put in motion by the Gentile Clement’s desire to find a solution for his philosophical and existential torment and is then dominated by the recognition of the lost members of his family and by their acceptance in the Christ movement through the ministry of Peter. Thus, the main plotline of this complex narrative is basically focused on the ways in which a small group of Gentiles can become part of and live harmoniously within the Christ movement. The first necessary step toward such an inclusion is baptism. In a key passage (which can in all likelihood be traced back to the Grundschrift) Peter explains to Clement’s mother, who has just been identified by her son but has not received her baptism yet, why she cannot share the table with them. After a short illustration of the main tenets of the Christ “cult” (θρησκεία), which are monotheism and

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rejection of the idolatrous practices of polytheism, Peter goes on to say (H 13.4.3– 4/R VII 29.3–4, from Rehm 1992: 194 and Rehm 1994: 211, respectively): Moreover, since we do not live in an indiscriminate way, we do not take advantage of the table of the nations (τραπέζης ἐθνῶν οὐκ ἀπολ αύομεν), because we cannot share food (συνεστιᾶσθαι) with them on account of their impure lifestyle (διὰ τὸ ἀκαθάρτως αὐτοὺς βιοῦν). But, whenever we may persuade them to think and to act according to the truth, after having baptized them with an invocation of the three-timesblessed name (τρισμακαρίᾳ τινὶ ἐπονο μασίᾳ), then we come together at the table with them (συναλιζόμεθα).

But we pay attention also to something else, not to share our table with Gentiles (mensam cum gentilibus non habere communem), unless they have believed and, having accepted the truth, have been baptized and sanctified through a triple invocation of the blessed name (trina quadam beati nominis invocatione), and then we take food with them.

(4) For not even if it were the case of a father or a mother or a wife or a child or a sibling or any other sharing a natural tie of affection, we are allowed to dare to share food with them. For we do this differently for a cultic purpose (θρησκείᾳ διαφερόντως).

(4) Otherwise, even if it were the case of a father or a mother or a wife or children or brothers, we cannot have a shared table with them.

Baptism had a crucial initiatory role certainly already in the Pseudo-Clementine Grundschrift, since a similar point is made also elsewhere in passages that are attested both in the Homilies and in the Recognitions (H 1.22.5/R I 19.5, with respect to the analogous separation of the tables of Peter and of the not-yetbaptized Clement, and H 13.11.4/R VII 36.4). Interestingly though, the ethical requirements for Gentiles who become part of the Christ movement do not end with this initiatory baptism. Again, in several Pseudo-Clementine passages that are extant in both versions of the novel, Peter offers to his audiences a short summary of fundamental norms that have unmistakable resonances for readers acquainted with the New Testament (H 7.8.1, from Rehm 1992: 120): The cult established (ὁρισθεῖσα θρησκεία) by him [the true prophet] is such: to revere only him and to believe the only prophet of truth and to be baptized for the forgiveness of sins and thus, through the dipping into ignorance, to be born again to God through the saving water, not to partake of the table of the demons (τραπέζης δαιμόνων μὴ μεταλαμβάνειν) (I mean, of the meats sacrificed to idols, of carrion, of suffocated animals, of animals caught by wild beasts, of

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blood) (εἰδωλοθύτων, νεκρῶν, πνικτῶν, θηριαλώτων, αἵματος), not to live in an impure way, to wash oneself after a sexual encounter with a woman (ἀπὸ κοίτης γυναικὸς λούεσθαι), and for the women to pay attention also to their menstrual cycle (ἄφεδρον φυλάσσειν).

Particularly, when one reads the final lines of the paragraph, it becomes evident that the substance of this little Pseudo-Clementine “catechism” depends on a tradition that is very similar to the one preserved in the so-called apostolic decree of Acts 15:21, 29; 21:25. Almost certainly this Pseudo-Clementine version of the “apostolic decree” was present in the Grundschrift. Indeed, while the Homilies have preserved extensive and repeated references to the list quoted above the Recognitions also have a parallel in IV 36.4, even though—as is typical for the latter version—the original text has been misunderstood and revised to make it acceptable for more orthodox ears (“The causes that defile the soul as well as the body are such: to partake of the table of demons, which is to eat sacrificed meats or blood or carrion that has been suffocated [participare daemonum mensae, hoc est, immolate degustare vel sanguinem vel morticinum quod est suffocatum], and anything else that might have been consecrated to the demons”). That the Recognitions do not have an element corresponding to the notoriously ambiguous πορνεία of Acts cannot be invoked as an argument against this general parallelism. In fact, the text of the Homilies quoted above includes the requirement of avoiding sexual contacts with menstruating women, which is in turn attested by the Recognitions too in R VI 10.5 (“I tell you to pay attention to chastity [castimoniae dico cautela], of which there are many sorts, but the preeminent one is that everyone should take care not to become mixed with a menstruating woman [ne menstruatae mulieri misceatur]; for the law of God deems this action accursed,” which has a precise parallel in H 11.28.1). Whether this set of prescriptions (abstention from meats sacrificed to idols or coming from animals irregularly slaughtered, from blood, and from sexual intercourse with menstruating women) is derived from Lev. 17–18 or from the so-called Noahide precepts, most scholars agree in considering the PseudoClementine tradition independent from the one that is found in the canonical Acts of the Apostles (Klijn 1968 and Molland 1955). More importantly, for the theme discussed here, one can observe that the function of this set of rules is to enable the coexistence of Christ-followers who are Jews with those who are not. Jürgen Wehnert has convincingly argued this point at length, showing that the prescriptions (which he thinks come from the Aramaic version of Lev. 17–18) are designed to establish some foundational regulations that would have allowed Christ believers of Jewish origin to live together and share meals with non-Jewish Christ believers without incurring into contamination or compromising their continuing observance of the Mosaic Law (Wehnert 1997:145– 73). It goes without saying that, once the requirements of the Pseudo-Clementine “apostolic decree” are not conceived any more as the manifestation of narrowminded legalism, but as a strategic means to preserve harmony and pluralism

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within a religious group, the divergence between the Grundschrift and canonical Acts is greatly diminished. In fact, as Isaac Oliver has shown compellingly in his recent book on the persistence of Mosaic observance in Christ groups after 70 CE, the so-called apostolic decree in Acts might very well have the same function of making possible the coexistence of Jewish and non-Jewish believers (Oliver 2013: 365–98). From there to affirm that the work of Luke should then belong in the category that is usually labeled as “Jewish-Christianity” the step is very short indeed and severely destabilizes the notion of “Jewish-Christianity” itself as well as the role that it plays within a dialectical understanding of the history of the early Christ movement (Kaestli 1996). The observations developed in the preceding paragraph have shown that the Pseudo-Clementine treatment of the “apostolic decree” traditions can be read as evidence of the participation of the Grundschrift in the competition around the legacy of Paul that characterizes the second century CE. However, it is important to note that the requirement to avoid meats sacrificed to idols is explicitly given also another function in Peter’s speeches. For the Pseudo-Clementines, not to eat such meats serves also the purpose of barring the way to demonic influences, since evil spirits take advantage of this means in order to gain control of human beings and lead them to enslavement and sin. This element might highlight an additional potential connection between the Grundschrift and the “authentic” Paul, if one takes seriously the fact that the apostle—in 1 Cor. 10:20-21, for example—goes to great lengths to warn his Corinthian addressees that whoever “partakes of the table of demons” (μετέχειν τραπέζης δαιμονίων, notably the same language that one encounters in the Pseudo-Clementine version of the “apostolic decree”) ends up becoming their “partner,” or—to be more precise—“being possessed” by them.4 Finally, it is interesting to note that the Pseudo-Clementine Peter is represented as avoiding any meats and thus limiting his diet to “bread alone, olives, and rarely vegetables” (ἄρτῳ μόνῳ καὶ ἐλαίαις . . . καὶ σπανίως λαχάνοις, in H 12.6.4 with the parallel panis mihi solus cum olivis et raro etiam cum oleribus in usu est in R VII 6.4). Such a Pseudo-Clementine vegetarianism has been attributed to a tendency of the novel to portray the character of Peter as a model of Hellenistic philosophical asceticism (Jones 2012: 143), but a more convincing—and ultimately not mutually exclusive—etiology for this feature envisages it as a means through which the narrative’s main character ensures the total respect of kashrut (Townsend 1984). Vegetarianism is also a trait that comes up unexpectedly in the writings of the historical Paul. At the beginning of chapter 14 of the Letter to the Romans, the apostle famously juxtaposes (v. 2) the “strong,” who believe that they can eat everything, and the “weak,” who eat only vegetables (ὃς μὲν πιστεύει φαγεῖν πάντα, ὁ δὲ ἀσθενῶν λάχανα ἐσθίει). Mark Nanos (1996) has recently proposed to read this entire section of the letter in a way that is the opposite of what one encounters

4. Paul uses terms connected to the domain of κοινωνία with nuances that cannot be reduced to the metaphorical meaning of “partnership”: see, for instance, the similar pneumatic context in Phil. 3:11-12.

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in traditional exegesis. Instead of seeing Paul’s statement as a concession to the outdated and mistaken convictions of the “weak,” Nanos reads Paul’s position as supporting the latter’s stance against that of the “strong” or at least as striking a better balance. Ultimately, Nanos thinks that the “weak” of Romans are a group of Christ believers of Jewish origin who chose vegetarianism in order to respect in the safest way possible the requirements codified in the “apostolic decree.” This is not the place to discuss the merits of Nanos’s interpretation of Romans or of his hypothesis that something similar to the “apostolic decree” was indeed present within Christ groups already at the time of Paul. For the purposes of the present paper, it will suffice to note that Nanos’s reading sketches a portrait of the apostle that is not far at all from the Peter found in the Pseudo-Clementine Grundschrift.

References Amsler, F. (2005), “Les citations évangéliques dans le roman pseudo-clémentin: une tradition indépendante du Nouveau Testament?,” in G. Aragione, E. Junod, and E. Norelli (eds.), Le Canon du Nouveau Testament: regards nouveaux sur l’histoire de sa formation, Le Monde de la Bible 54, 141–67, Genève: Labor et Fides. Boyarin, D. (2009), “Rethinking Jewish-Christianity: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (to which is Appended a Correction to My Border Lines),” Jewish Quarterly Review 99: 7–36. Cirillo, L. (2001), “L’antipaolinismo nelle Pseudoclementine: un riesame della questione,” in G. Filoramo and C. Gianotto (eds.), Verus Israel: nuove prospettive sul giudeocristianesimo. Atti del colloquio di Torino (4–5 novembre 1999), Biblioteca di cultura religiosa 65, 280–303, Brescia: Paideia. Gager, J. G. (2000), Reinventing Paul, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gaston, L. (1987), Paul and the Torah, Vancouver: University of British Columbia. Jackson-McCabe, M. (2007), “What’s in a Name? The Problem of ‘Jewish-Christianity,’” in M. Jackson-McCabe (ed.), Jewish Christianity Reconsidered: Rethinking Ancient Groups and Texts, 3–37, Minneapolis: Fortress. Jones, F. S. (1982), “The Pseudo-Clementines: A History of Research,” Second Century 2: 1–33, 63–96. Jones, F. S. (2001), “Eros and Astrology in the Περίοδοι Πέτρου: The Sense of the PseudoClementine Novel,” Apocrypha 12: 53–78. Jones, F. S. (2008), “Jewish Christianity of the Pseudo-Clementines,” in A. Marjanen and P. Luomanen (eds.), A Companion to Second-Century Christian “Heretics,” Vigilae christianae Supplements 76, 315–34, Leiden: Brill. Jones, F. S. (2012), Pseudoclementina Elchasaiticaque inter Judaeochristiana: Collected Studies, Orientalia lovaniensa analecta 203, Leuven: Peeters. Klijn, A. F. J. (1968), “The Pseudo-Clementines and the Apostolic Decree,” Novum Testamentum 10: 305–12. Kaestli, J. D. (1996), “Où en est le débat sur le judéo-christianisme?,” in D. Marguerat (ed.), Le déchirement: juifs et chrétiens au premier siècle, Monde de la Bible 32, 243–72, Genève: Labor et Fides. Lüdemann, G. (1983), Paulus der Heidenapostel, II, Antipaulinismus im frühen Christentum, Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 130, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.

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Molland, E. (1955), “La circoncision, le baptême et l’autorité du décret apostolique (Actes XV, 28sq.) dans les milieux judéo-chrétiens des Pseudo-Clémentines,” Studia Theologica 9: 1–39. Nanos, M. D. (1996), The Mystery of Romans: The Jewish Context of Paul’s Letter, Minneapolis: Fortress. Oliver, I. W. (2013), Torah Praxis after 70 CE: Reading Matthew and Luke-Acts as Jewish Texts, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2.355, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Reed, A. Yoshiko (2008), “Jewish Christianity as Counter-History? The Apostolic Past in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History and the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies,” in G. Gardner and K.L. Osterloh (eds.), Antiquity in Antiquity: Jewish and Christian Pasts in the Greco-Roman World (TSAJ 123), 173–216, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Reed, A. Yoshiko (2012), “Parting Ways over Blood and Water? Beyond ‘Judaism’ and ‘Christianity’ in the Roman Near East,” in S. C. Mimouni and B. Pouderon (eds.), La croisée des chemins revisitée: quand l’Eglise et la Synagogue se sont-elles distinguées? Actes du colloque de Tours, 18-19 juin 2010, 227–60, Paris: Cerf. Rehm, B. (1992), Die Pseudoklementinen I: Homilien, Die griechische christliche Schriftsteller der ersten [drei] Jahrhunderte 42, 3rd edition, G. Strecker (ed.), Berlin: Akademie. Rehm, B. (1994), Die Pseudoklementinen II: Rekognitionen in Rufins Übersetzung, Die griechische christliche Schriftsteller der ersten [drei] Jahrhunderte 51, 2nd edition, G. Strecker (ed.), Berlin: Akademie. Stendhal, K. (1963), “The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West,” Harvard Theological Review 56: 199–215. Strecker, G. (1981), Das Judenchristentum in der Pseudoklementinen, Texte und Untersuchungen 70, 2nd edition, Berlin: Akademie. Townsend, J. T. (1984), “The Date of Luke-Acts,” in C. H. Talbert (ed.), Luke-Acts: New Perspectives from the Society of Biblical Literature Seminar, 47–62, New York: Crossroads. Verheyden, J. (2004), “The Demonization of the Opponent in Early Christian Literature: The Case of the Pseudo-Clementines,” in T.L. Hettema and A. van der Kooij (eds.), Religious Polemics in Context: Papers Presented to the Second International Conference of the Leiden Institute for the Study of Religion (LISOR), 330–59, Assen: Van Gorcum. Wehnert, J. (1992), “Abriss der Entstehungsgeschichte des pseudoklementinischen Romans,” Apocrypha 3: 211–35. Wehnert, J. (1997), Die Reinheit des “christlichen Gottesvolkes” aus Juden und Heiden: Studien zum historischen und theologischen Hintergrund des sogenannten Aposteldekrets, Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 173, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Wehnert, J. (2013), “Antipaulinismus in den Pseudoklementinen,” in T. Nicklas, A. Merkt, and J. Verheyden (eds.), Ancient Perspectives on Paul, Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus 102, 170–90, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. White, B. (2014), Remembering Paul: Ancient and Modern Contests over the Image of the Apostle, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Zetterholm, M. (2009), Approaches to Paul: A Student’s Guide to Recent Scholarship, Minneapolis: Fortress.

Chapter 10 JOHN OF PATMOS AND THE APOSTLE PAUL: ANTINOMY OR AFFINITY? Joel Willitts

Now when we consider all that we know about the apostle John, the position of antagonism to Paul which he had formerly held as one of the pillar-apostles at Jerusalem, and what the Apocalypse tells us of the character of its writer . . . can we think it improbable that he came to Ephesus with a view to exercising an influence over the whole district of which it was the centre, and upholding principles of the Christianity of Jerusalem against the encroachments of the Christianity of Paul? After such proof of Jewish particularism, can we think it strange that John, the writer of the Apocalypse, should, as superintendent of the Churches of Asia Minor, have made war upon Pauline Christianity? F. C. Baur (1878: 86, 87) I will be honest. When I first considered the question of Paul and Revelation, I wondered what did one have to do with the other, besides of course their inclusion in the one New Testament (NT) canon. I admittedly was unaware of the reading trajectory, reaching back as far as F. C. Baur, which viewed Revelation as antiPauline. I was soon reminded once again how little I know of my own field. William Baird (1992: 266) describes Baur’s view on the anti-Pauline perspective of Revelation: According to Baur, this book was written by the apostle John who came to Ephesus in order to combat Pauline Christianity. The Nicolatians who follow the teaching of Balaam and threaten the churches of Asia Minor (Rev. 2:14-20) are none other than the Pauline Christians who eat meat sacrificed to idols.

This tendency seems to be only a modern phenomenon—and by modern I mean since the beginning of NT higher criticism in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It is probably not an exaggeration to say that until the nineteenth

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century, no one had ever considered that Revelation and Paul were nothing but complementary voices in the NT. It is a historical curiosity that such bold statements like Baur’s, with which I’ve headed the paper, seem to have fallen largely silent until only recently.1 Save a couple of works from Continental scholars, the only notable exception I’ve found is the view of C. H. Dodd (1936) expressed clearly in his brilliant little book on apostolic preaching. In short, Dodd sees a development of the “original Gospel” that runs through Paul and climaxes in the Fourth Gospel. However, he sees the Apocalypse of Revelation as an unfortunate detour into a “blind ally”; to Dodd, like a drunk falling off the wagon, the Revelation represented a “relapse,” his word, into “pre-Christian eschatology” (40). While Dodd never suggests that Revelation was anti-Pauline in any Baurian sense, he nevertheless thinks that its apocalyptic outlook is contrary to the original gospel. He writes: If we review the book as a whole, we must judge that this excessive emphasis on the future has the effect of relegating to a secondary place just those elements in the original Gospel which are most distinctive of Christianity—the faith that in the finished work of Christ God has already acted for the salvation of man, and the blessed sense of living in the divine presence here and now. (40)

Dodd’s opinion of the value of Revelation is expressed clearly: “the book falls below the level, not only of the teaching of Jesus, but of the best parts of the Old Testament” and while he doesn’t posit any direct relationship, John of Patmos and the Apostle Paul would clearly not have seen eye to eye (1936: 40–41). In the last two decades, there has been a renewal of the Baurian perspective. Scholars such as David Frankfurter (2001), Peter Tomson (2001: 374–375), and Elaine Pagels (2012: 37–72, especially 44–64) have asserted quite forcefully and confidently that John of Patmos denounced either Paul or his later followers or both. What unites all these modern perspectives—both Baur’s and more recent iterations—is the supposed Jewish identity of John of Patmos and the Jewish apocalyptic character of Revelation. Baur (1878: 87) believed the Revelation had a “Judaistic” outlook which represented a form of “Jewish particularism.” In the intervening century plus there seemed to have been a cooling of such strong views of John’s Jewishness and consequently his anti-Paulism. While it was clearly recognized that John was a Jew, perhaps better, a former Jew (Lohse 1993: 107), the Jewish element was mitigated by his Christian identity by the time of his writing of the Apocalypse. In Bultmann’s (2007, 2:175) view: “The Christianity of Revelation has to be termed a weakly Christianized Judaism.” Likewise, Dodd (1936: 39) commented, “The whole apparatus of Jewish apocalyptic is here adapted to Christian use.” David Aune (1997: cxxi) in his magisterial three-volume

1. The only apparent outliers of this absence are the works of Satake (1966); Müller (1976).

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commentary on Revelation is representative of more recent perspectives which regard John of Patmos as a Christian. Aune suggests that John was “a JewishChristian prophet who had moved from Judaism to Christianity at some point in his career.” Furthermore, regarding Paul, Aune (1997: cxxvi–xxvii) also represents the consensus of opinion when he asserts there are “few if any reflections of Pauline influence within Revelation.” In the first two decades of the twenty-first century, however, Baur’s perspective on the distinctively Jewish character of Revelation has been reinvigorated and marshaled for arguments about John of Patmos’s social location and his opponents, albeit with twenty-first century refinements. The view that the book of Revelation is a thoroughgoing Jewish Apocalypse has established itself as a solid minority position with a number of advocates building off from this premise. A significant factor in this reemergence has to do with the recognition that the terms “Christian” and “Jewish,” used in the history of interpretation, were severely anachronistic.2 The result of such historical anachronism has been a complete misunderstanding of John of Patmos and the nature of the conflict expressed in Revelation, particularly in the seven letters of Chapters 2 and 3. According to this view, the conventional understanding of Revelation is built on the false premise that in the late first century CE. Judaism and Christianity were institutionally distinct from each other.3 In 2001 David Frankfurter’s influential article, “Jews or Not?” appeared and represents a full-throated version of Baur’s view, reexpressing the two components: (1) Jewish perspective and, a consequent (2) anti-Paulinism. That same year Tomson (2001: 362–80, esp. 374–75) published his book “If This Be Heaven . . .” echoing the same two Baurian points. More recently, Elaine Pagels’s (2012) book, Revelations, essentially reproduced the same Baurian outlook as that of Frankfurter and she noted her agreement with him (54, n. 58). The purpose of this brief study is to evaluate the recent resurgence of the Baurian perspective on John of Patmos. I will direct most of my critical attention

2. Similar points have been made in other New Testament subdisciplines. See, for example, Eisenbaum’s (2009) and Runesson’s (2008) provocative studies. 3. See Koester (2014: 92–93) for a recent presentation of the conventional view of the distinct Jewish and Christian communities. Koester, however, attempts to straddle the issue apparently by stating that the Christian communities “partly defined themselves in relation to local Jewish communities.” Moreover, besides the first sentence he avoids the term “Christian” and instead uses the term “followers of Jesus.” The implication is the same when he describes the relationship between the followers of Jesus and the Jewish communities and concludes that the difference between the Jewish community and his own was the “status of Jesus.” Furthermore, an attempt to differentiate communities drawing sharp distinctions between συναγωγή and ἐκκλησία—as Koester does—without additional qualifying terms as in the case of συναγωγῆς τοῦ Σατανᾶ (2:9; 3:9) is unaware of their overlapping GrecoRoman usage; for a discussion of the terms in ancient literature see Runesson, Binder, and Olsson (2008).

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to David Frankfurter’s article since it is a foundation stone in this renewed Baurian argument. While appreciating the positive reassessment of John’s social location within Judaism in Frankfurter’s proposal, the primary criticism is that the same reassessment was not undertaken for Paul. What followed was a new perspective on John of Patmos against the old perspective on Paul. While a reassessment of the historical Paul will not by itself relieve the potential tension between the two, a renewed perspective on the historical Paul does make it much harder to demonstrate that John had any reason to reject Paul. As Baur’s quotation makes clear above, the particular issue that forms the foundation of the anti-Pauline argument is Paul’s statements about idol food. If the traditional interpretation of 1 Cor. 8–10, which views Paul as liberal on the issue of idol food, is destabilized, the strength of the anti-Pauline John of Patmos is greatly weakened. The most recent research on Paul’s view of idol food convincingly demonstrates that he did not condone the practice. And if Paul did not condone eating idol food, then the most significant piece of evidence is removed and, while the claim can still be made, it is has received a mortal wound. In this chapter, I first critically assess the resurgent Baurian reading of John of Patmos and Paul, which claims antimony. Then, more briefly, I present evidence that is suggestive of an affinity between the two historical figures and their respective theological and ecclesial legacies.

The Antinomy Between John of Patmos and Paul? David Frankfurter’s (2001) provocative study focused on the identity of the John of Patmos’s opponents whom he referred to as “those who call themselves Jews and are not” (Rev. 2:9; 3:9)4 and a “synagogue of Satan” in the letters written to the second and sixth churches of Smyrna (2:8-11) and Philadelphia (3:7-13). In the article, Frankfurter sought to overturn the common assumption of scholars regarding John’s opponents. After detailing weaknesses with the conventional view that takes the referent of the statement to be “the general Jewish community” whose hostile to Christ-faith, Frankfurter constructs an argument in which John represents a Jewish sectarian Christ group whose concern for ritual purity rivals the Qumran community. Frankfurter appeals to supposed parallel passages from Revelation in the texts of the Qumran library and other apocalyptic works such as Jubilees (also found among the Scrolls) to develop the profile of John’s Judaism. He presents them as emphasizing a hyperpurity derived from a temple priestly self-identity: A rigorous adherent to Jewish law, and even to priestly purity regulations, that would allow for visions of and participation in the heavenly court and that would prepare the saints for the parsousia. So strict is John’s sense of purity that sexuality itself is viewed as inappropriate for the Elect. (423)

4. Scripture references are taken from NRSV unless otherwise noted.

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In addition, Frankfurter determines that information in the letters in the surrounding context of Rev. 2–3 provide a composite of John’s enemies. In view of these other contexts, Frankfurter argues that the group John is critical of is closely proximate to his own, that is, one inside the same group of Jesus followers, an “intimate enemy” (423). So, Frankfurter argues that John is a scrupulous observer of the Jewish law who denounced a contingent of Christ-followers, who, he believed, were not maintaining the required level of ritual purity. What is more, they claimed to have a Jewish identity, but John of Patmos denies that claim. Frankfurter understands the statement to be literal, not rhetorical or figurative. The group was really not ethnically Jewish but Gentile Christ believers. Frankfurter develops the profile of John of Patmos’s opponents in large part based on the accusations in the letters to Pergamum and Thyartira which focus on the promulgation of the practices of φαγεῖν εἰδωλόθυτα (“eating idol food”) and πορνεῦσαι (“fornicating”). John frames his opponents using a cast of characters with symbolic names: the Nicolaitans (2:6, 15), Balaam (2:14), and Jezebel (2:20-24). Frankfurter, furthermore, defines very specifically porneia (NRSV, “fornication”) to be a reference to mixed marriages between Gentiles and Jews, an idiosyncratic interpretation to be sure, but not without some justification (415, 417–18). Frankfurter has offered an interesting and alterative understanding of the characters in the situation behind the letters in Revelation. On a couple of key points, he moves the interpretation forward beyond the entrenched and false categories of Jew versus Christian and synagogue versus church. He writes, “If we begin with the assumption that the Jesus movement was an entirely intra-Jewish sectarian movement, and if we qualify ‘Jewish’ to indicate a range of practices, then the outlines of the conflict around John of Patmos begin to emerge with more precision” (425). While his position that John represents a Qumran-like group in the Asian diaspora will convince few, his assertions that John is a Torah-observant Jewish believer in Christ Jesus within the diverse socioreligious context of late Second Temple Judaism and that his opponents are an “intimate enemy” are welcomed and convincing. Frankfurter then takes an unnecessary Baurian step by asserting that these practices are the present embodiment of Paul’s “liberal” interpretation of halakhic practices as articulated in 1 Cor. 8–10 (his so-called permission to eat idol food) and 1 Corinthians 7 (his advice to stay in mixed marriages) (416). While Paul’s teaching about idol food was far less than “promoting” participation, his less-thanstrict stance was open to exaggeration by more scrupulous Jewish Christ Jesus believers according to Frankfurter. And for Frankfurter, John of Patmos is not singling out a perverted post-Pauline point of view, say a later “neo-Pauline” group (Paulinism). But according to him, John directly refutes Paul’s view. Frankfurter states, “We might say ‘neo-Pauline,’ but I would insist that ‘Jezebel’ and the ‘Nicolaitans’ were not distorting Paul’s words substantially. It was John of Patmos who distorted Paul’s position in his polemic” (118). Finally, Frankfurter identifies the group behind the label, ἐκ τῶν λεγόντων Ἰουδαίους εἶναι ἑαυτοὺς καὶ οὐκ εἰσὶν (“those who call themselves Jews and are not”)

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(2:9; 3:9) as Gentile Pauline Christians. “[John of Patmos] viewed Pauline Gentile Jesus believers as insufficiently Jewish in practice and thus failing to maintain the purity of the sect—a purity that was crucial for him—in its anticipation of the parousia” (421). Frankfurter concludes, “This ‘Pauline Gentile believer’ hypothesis has the benefit of historical antecedents and parallels, while previous hypotheses of an ‘angry Jewish community’ are derived from Christian theological tradition. Thus, the ‘so-called Jews’ would have been Gentiles who were observing some degree of Jewish practice according to Pauline instruction; hence ‘acting like a Jew’ ” (422). In sum, Frankfurter’s case for an anti-Pauline position of John of Patmos works like this:

1. John of Patmos existed in an ethnically Jewish social location, terms like “Christian” are severely imprecise. 2. John of Patmos was a Jewish apocalyptic sectarian how advocated “priestly purity regulations for the elect” (419). 3. John of Patmos’s enemies were “intimate enemies,” that is, other Christ-followers. 4. Those “others” advocated the practice of eating idol meat and fornication, the latter defined as mixed marriage between Jew and Gentile. 5. Paul taught a liberal policy on practices in regard to eating idol food. 6. Paul taught a liberal policy of mixed marriage. 7. Paul converted pagans and taught them to take on some Jewish practices. 8. Both John of Patmos and Paul had influence in western Asia Minor in the late first century. 9. Paul had opponents both in his lifetime and after who believed that he advocated antinomian teaching. 10. So, John of Patmos was fighting against Pauline or “neo-Pauline” teaching. 11. So, John of Patmos denied the label “Jew” being used by Pauline Gentile Christ-followers. When presented in a list of propositions like this, the weaknesses of Frankfurter’s hypothesis are readily apparent. The connection made by Frankfurter, and Elaine Pagels as well, between the elements of Revelation 2 and 3 and Paul is circumstantial at best. Pagels’s (2012: 54–55, emphasis hers) qualifications in the following quotation commend suspicion: Those whom John says Jesus “hates” look very much like Gentile followers of Jesus converted through Paul’s teaching. . . . What apparently upset John of Patmos is that forty years after Paul’s death, he still heard of those he called “false prophets” giving advice that sounded suspiciously like Paul’s—telling Jesus followers that it didn’t matter whether they ate sacrificial meat or engaged in mixed marriages.

Several points are worth a brief critical comment. First, the positive reassessment of John’s social space does not require a Baurian schema. Another publication

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from 2001 that represented a significant critique of the traditional reading of Revelation was John Marshall’s monograph Parables of War (2001). In fact, in its unpublished 1999 form, Frankfurter appeals to it in making his case. In a nutshell, Marshall argued that the social location of the author was within Judaism, thereby eschewing the category “Christian” for Revelation and relativizing the “binary opposition between Jews and Christians in the interpretation of the document” (2001: 123). According to Marshall, Revelation is a Messianic Jewish text; to be sure centered on Jesus, but still firmly located within the diverse Jewish diaspora communities of western Asia Minor. John of Patmos’s writing, then, should be evaluated and interpreted within late first-century Judaism. When this presupposition is part of the frame in which the interpretation of Revelation is set, fresh interpretations of the details as well as the overall argument of the book become available. Marshall states, By suspending the category “Christian,” it is possible to bring to a certain closure to the text complexes that bedevil the interpreters of the Apocalypse of John: Israel can be Israel, Zion can be Zion, the non-Jews are non-Jews, keeping the commandments means keeping the commandments. And, especially in the context of the Judean War, Jerusalem is not Rome. (123)

Importantly, Marshall claims the one side of the Baurian model—the Jewish character of John of Patmos’s Revelation—while leaving out Baur’s anti-Pauline stance. Marshall shows that one does not require the other.5 Second, it should be noted that nowhere does Frankfurter state that the rejection of eating idol food was nearly universal for both non-Christ-believing Jews and Christ-believing Jews and Gentiles. A lenient view on idol food would have been a significant anomaly in the late and early post-Second Temple period even within the Jewish diaspora (see Cheung 1999: 39–81, esp. 76–77). Evidently there was a segment within the Asian Jewish diaspora, which may indeed have included both non-Christ-believing and Christ-believing individuals, that assimilated beyond what John of Patmos thought acceptable. His harsh rhetoric likely was targeted against this segment and it seems more than likely that this was a non-Christ-believing synagogue in view of the statement related to slander (2:9).6 The phrase σ υναγωγῆς τοῦ σατανᾶ (“synagogue of Satan”) (2:9; 3:9) likely named, with biting rhetorical flourish, the rival Jewish associations within the Jewish social space of the Asian diaspora.7

5. I have published elsewhere on Revelation in agreement with Marshall’s Jewish perspective calling it a “concrete Jewish approach”; see Willitts (2013: 260). 6. Peter Hirschberg (2006: 220) provides a plausible hypothesis for the cause of the hostility of non-Christ-believing elements of the Jewish community in Asia Minor. 7. See the recent work of Runesson (2015: 48–53); see also Hirschberg (2006: 220–23).

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What is more, Frankfurter’s “sectarian” caricature of John of Patmos is not persuasive. He suggests that John’s view of proper ritual observance derives ideologically and symbolically from the Jewish temple and priesthood which Jewish apocalypses take to be “a sin qua non for communion with angels and redemption in the end-times” (2001: 412). While this is likely true, the meaning of the point is still to be filled in. The hyper-sectarian perspective seems out of step with the universal aspects of John of Patmos’s eschatological vision. John of Patmos seems more dependent on the priestly but universal aspects of latter Isaiah than he does beholden to the apocalyptic sectarianism observed in other Jewish apocalyptic texts. Given the clear dependence of John of Patmos on latter Isaiah for his vision of the New Heavens and New Earth, the priesthood seems now to include the purified nations, as nations, in fulfillment of Isa. 56:6-8: Isa. 56:6-8 καὶ τοῖς ἀλλογενέσι τοῖς προσκειμένοις κυρίῳ δουλεύειν αὐτῷ καὶ ἀγαπᾶν τὸ ὄνομα κυρίου τοῦ εἶναι αὐτῷ εἰς δούλους καὶ δούλας καὶ πάντας τοὺς φυλασσομένους τὰ σάββατά μου μὴ βεβηλοῦν καὶ ἀντεχομένους τῆς διαθήκης μου, εἰσάξω αὐτοὺς εἰς τὸ ὄρος τὸ ἅγιόν μου καὶ εὐφρανῶ αὐτοὺς ἐν τῷ οἴκῳ τῆς προσευχῆς μου· τὰ ὁλοκαυτώματα αὐτῶν καὶ αἱ θυσίαι αὐτῶν ἔσονται δεκταὶ ἐπὶ τοῦ θυσιαστηρίου μου· ὁ γὰρ οἶκός μου οἶκος προσευχῆς κληθήσεται πᾶσιν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν, εἶπεν κύριος ὁ συνάγων τοὺς διεσπαρμένους Ισραηλ, ὅτι συνάξω ἐπ᾿ αὐτὸν συναγωγήν.

And the foreigners who join themselves to the LORD, to minister to him, to love the name of the LORD, and to be his servants, all who keep the Sabbath, and do not profane it, and hold fast my covenant—these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples. Thus says the Lord GOD, who gathers the outcasts of Israel, I will gather others to them besides those already gathered.

I have shown elsewhere that John of Patmos envisages the eschatological telos to be the establishment of the kingdom of God and his Christ (11:15) which includes both restored ethnic Israel and the purified Gentiles (2013: 252). Related to the previous point, there is also the issue of the definition of πορνεύω (“practice fornication”) that Frankfurter and Pagels define as the practice of mixed marriage between Christ believers and pagans. Paul Duff (2001) is largely correct when he shows that the term should be taken in a figurative way to represent the practice of idolatry (cf. Hos. 1:2), although the sexual immorality that surrounded Greco-Roman cults would have certainly allowed the term to be polyvalent, denoting both the unfaithfulness to God by involvement with idolatry, but also the concomitant prostitution prevalent in temple worship (2001: 55–57). Duff suggests that the Hebrew term znwt, the Hebrew term related to the Greek porneia, is used in later Rabbinic literature to designate, among other things, marriages with which the Rabbis disagree, especially mixed marriages between a Jew and Gentile. But there is no clear evidence that this was how the term was ever used in the late first century. Both Duff ’s (2001: 56) and Hayes’s (1999: 13–14) appeal to Tobit 4:12 for such a use of the Greek word porneia, does not support the argument upon careful review.

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The term is used twice in Tobit, in 4:12 and again in 8:7, and the contexts are related. In the context the point is marriage within Tobiah’s own family tribe is to be a priority, and porneia is not to play any part in the taking of a wife. Tobit 4:12 πρόσεχε σεαυτῷ, παιδίον, ἀπὸ πάσης πορνείας καὶ γυναῖκα πρῶτον λαβὲ ἀπὸ τοῦ σπέρματος τῶν πατέρων σου· μὴ λάβῃς γυναῖκα ἀλλοτρίαν, ἣ οὐκ ἔστιν ἐκ τῆς φυλῆς τοῦ πατρός σου

“Beware, my son, of every kind of fornication. First of all, marry a woman from among the descendants of your ancestors; do not marry a foreign woman, who is not of your father’s tribe.”

The NRSV’s translation of γυναῖκα ἀλλοτρίαν as a “foreign woman” seems to miss that the restriction limits Tobiah to taking a bride from within his own family clan. The limit is not ethnic but tribal. The restriction presupposes that a marriage is within the Jewish people and restricts it even further to a member of his own tribe (cf. 1:9). Then in 8:7, Tobiah claims his choice of Sarah was not motivated by anything other than the fact that she was part of his family, τὴν ἀδελφήν μου ταύτην (lit. “his sister”) in obedience to his father’s command (cf. 4:12). Tobit 8:7 καὶ νῦν, κύριε, οὐ διὰ πορνείαν ἐγὼ λαμβάνω τὴν ἀδελφήν μου ταύτην, ἀλλ᾿ ἐπ᾿ ἀληθείας· ἐπίταξον ἐλεῆσαί με καὶ ταύτῃ συγκαταγηρᾶσαι.

I now am taking this kinswoman of mine, not because of lust, but with sincerity. Grant that she and I may find mercy and that we may grow old together.”

There is no suggestion of mixed marriage in either context. Thus, I am not persuaded by Frankfurter and Pagels that the action of πορνεύω (2:14; 20) reflects Paul’s teaching in 1 Corinthians 7 to virgins. It seems wiser to take the two actions: eating idol food and sexual immorality (whether metaphorical or literal or both) as a composite description of the group John opposes. In this case, the obvious object of denunciation is a group, all within the parameters of Judaism, who accommodated to such a great degree with the Roman imperial political-religious system that they participated in cultic ceremonies. Fourth, I have elsewhere attempted to destabilize the widespread assumption that second-century Jewish believers in Jesus were anti-Pauline as a rule (2011: 140–68).8 The mere hand wave by Frankfurter to opposition to Paul both in his lifetime and beyond is insufficient in view of the complexity of the material (2001:

8. See the recent interaction with my essay by James D. G. Dunn (2015) who unfairly states, “Willitts presses too hard the argument that anti-Paulinism was ‘not a central or even near-central element of Jewish Christian identity in the second century’” (686). Although he rightly notes approvingly my cautions about reading the sources (see 581, n. 267; 588, n. 296).

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422).9 Furthermore, it is not at all clear, even if the opponents of John of Patmos were in some sense part of the Christ Jesus groups within the Jewish social space, that they were Pauline or associated with Paul.10 Finally, the assumption that Paul condoned the eating of idol food is based on a gross inaccuracy. According to the best and most recent scholarship, the assumption that Paul had a liberal and lenient halakhic position on idol food is both a misinterpretation and inherently improbable.

1. Misinterpretation. Such a view is a misinterpretation of Paul’s teaching in 1 Cor. 8–10.11 David J. Rudolph sums up Paul’s teaching: “Paul’s position on idol-food was two-fold: (1) Jesus believers were not to eat food in a pagan cultic context; and (2) Outside a pagan cultic context, indeterminate food was permitted, while known idol-food was forbidden . . . [and] is informed by Jewish thought” (2011: 108). 2. Improbability. Such a view is inherently improbable given the utter silence of any second-century evidence in its favor. Neither second-century Gentile Christian nor elements of Jewish believers in Jesus asserted that Paul condoned the eating of idol food. This is all the more remarkable for the latter since some were clearly critical of Paul. The absence of any statements from

9. Frankfurter’s claim of “well documented literature opposing Paulinist ideas” requires critical scrutiny. While it is not to say that Paul was not without enemies, the arguments for anti-Pauline texts, especially those that do not directly mention him, are fraught with uninhibited speculations. For a critical assessment of such claims, see not only my (Willitts 2011a) essay, but also my critique of David Sim’s recent attempts to argue for an anti-Pauline Matthew (Willitts 2009, 2011b). 10. Alex T. Cheung (1999: 205–09) notes that later Patristic writers connect the secondcentury Gnostic Nicolaitans to the Nicolaitans of Revelation 2. The latter appealed not to Paul but to a so-called Nicolas. The historical validity of the claim is impossible to validate and scholars are generally pessimistic about it. But Cheung rightly notes that the teaching of Nicolas, not of Paul, was the foundation of Nicolaitans practice of eating idol food. Cheung points out that given the Nicolaitans fondness of Paul, had he condoned eating idol food, it must have been long forgotten—if it ever existed, since they do not appeal to him. What is more, the Fathers, like Clement, attempt to exonerate the teaching of Nicolas by arguing that the Nicolaitans have misunderstood him. No similar attempt, however, was made to exonerate Paul. This indicates that Paul was not thought to have taught this since it would have been far more important to clear Paul’s name. Cheung concludes, “It is perhaps no accident that in the testimony of the fathers, if Nicolaitans had anything to do with Paul at all, they were linked to his opponents” (208). Later Cheung states, “Paul’s teaching was not readily understood to provide liberty in eating idol food” even by those who both advocated eating idol food and venerated Paul (281–82). 11. For the most recent work which corrects the erroneous exegesis of 1 Cor. 8 see Tomson (1990: 187–220); Cheung (1999: 82–164); Garland (2003); Rudolph (2011: 90–109, esp. 193–97).

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Paul’s detractors about his stance on idol food is a loud silence indeed. As Alex Cheung (1999) puts the point: For Jewish Christians antagonistic toward Paul, the slightest evidence or rumors that Paul had condoned eating idol food would have made the apostle a ready target for their attack. The same can be said if they merely thought Paul’s teaching could conceivably be construed to mean that. Therefore the failure on the part of anti-Pauline Jewish Christians to attack Paul on this important issue is a very strong indication that Paul was not understood to condone eating idol food, nor could his teaching be readily so construed. (275)

In addition, it is noteworthy that although the Gentile Christian authors tended to reject Torah observance out of hand for followers of Jesus, they separated the Jewish food laws from the prohibition of eating idol food, rejecting the former while upholding the latter (Cheung 1999: 278–79).

The Affinity Between John of Patmos and Paul Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (1980: 121–27) suggested over three decades ago that Revelation had an affinity to Paul and the post-Pauline theology.12 Her suggestion was echoed recently by Craig Koester in his commentary on Revelation. Koester (2014: 83–84) lists three aspects of Pauline tradition evinced in Revelation: (1) Revelation’s epistolary features, (2) its social context in which apocalypticism and prophecy were primary, and (3) its theology. With respect to their theological affinity, Koester (2014: 84) names these six themes: (a) Christ as Passover lamb (1 Cor. 5:7; Rev. 5:6; 7:14), (b) Christ’s status as firstborn of the dead (Rom. 8:29; Rev. 1:5), (c) the picture of the parousia as his triumph over malevolent forces (1 Cor. 15:25; 2 Thess. 1:7–2:12; Rev. 19:11, 15), (d) the Christ group is identified as God’s temple (2 Cor. 6:16; Rev. 3:12; 11:1-2), (e) the use of a heavenly or future Jerusalem (Gal. 4:26; Phil. 3:20; Rev. 3:12; 21:10), and (f) the liberation of creation from decay (Rom. 8:18-22; Rev. 21:1; 22:1-5). The suggestions of Schüssler Fiorenza and Koester are all the more prescient in view of the recent trend in studies on Paul. David Frankfurter, owing the insight to John Marshall, rightly critiqued the traditional reading of John’s Revelation regarding his social location. He argued rightly, even if overreaching Revelation’s own evidence, for John of Patmos’s Jewishness. Yet, what is curious is that Frankfurter did not use the same level of scrutiny when handling the traditional perspective on Paul.13 What might have been the result had Frankfurter known

12. See also Schüssler Fiorenza (1973: 577–81). 13. Frankfurter may be forgiven because at the time of his writing in 2001 the re-evaluation of Paul within Judaism was at its infancy. For example, John Gager’s (2000) pioneering book Reinventing Paul had just appeared the previous year.

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or engaged with the recent work of what I call the Renewed Perspective on Paul, that is, a historical construction of Paul firmly situated within late Second Temple Judaism.14 While none of these insights are original to me, the following brief presentation of recent research on Paul lends further support to view an affinity between John of Patmos and Paul rather than the Baurian antinomy. Three recent scholarly works on Paul’s apostolic theology and practice suggest the potential for affinity with John of Patmos.

1. Paul’s apocalyptic thought. Paul states in Gal. 1:12 that he received the gospel he preached δι᾿ ἀποκαλύψεως Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ (“through a revelation of Jesus Christ”) and John of Patmos writes that his text is the Ἀποκάλυψις Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ (Rev. 1:1: “revelation of Jesus Christ”). Noted by Koester mentioned above, Paul and John share a social context of apocalyptic thought. The study of the apocalyptic Paul has been a feature of Pauline studies for over a half century since the work of Ernst Käsemann in the middle of the twentieth century. The early twenty-first century has seen the publication of a number of important studies and commentaries that featured apocalyptic as a major structural principle of Paul’s theologizing. While there is much disagreement among Pauline scholars today about what apocalyptic exactly means and how it is to be applied to Paul’s theologizing, it remains the case that all sides agree that Paul is fundamentally an apocalyptic thinker.15 Ironically perhaps it seems the Jewish matrix of apocalyptic is often ignored or minimized.16 In an important chapter in the recent book Paul and the Apocalyptic Imagination, Loren Stuckenbruck (2016: 137–55) reminds Pauline scholars to anchor their understanding of apocalyptic in the Jewish milieu the Second Temple Period. As an example of the benefit of such refocusing, he explains how Paul likely did not revise the apocalyptic scheme with an already-not yet sequence, but simply presupposed it based on preexisting frameworks in the Jewish apocalyptic world (153–54). A further relevant point was made recently by Paula Fredriksen (2015) about Paul’s apocalyptic theologizing. Jewish apocalyptic tradition and Paul both “severed the ἔθνη from their gods”: “Israel’s god—himself an ethnic

14. For recent work summarizing the Renewed Perspective on Paul see Zetterholm (2009); Nanos and Zetterholm (2015); Boccaccini, Segovia, and Doody (2016). 15. See the very recent attempt to bring clarity to the debate by Blackwell, Goodrich, and Matson (2016). 16. In this regard, I take Douglas Campbell (2016) to be too dismissive of the Jewish aspect of the “before Christ” context in his discussion of the discontinuities created by Paul’s apocalyptic outlook. In his contribution to the Blackwell, Goodrich, and Matson volume, Campbell states that Paul (or we ourselves) cannot endorse or affirm elements within previous contexts “without the light of Christ” (78). This is especially true since as he also points out in the continuities discussion that God “assumed a particular body . . . a Jewish body” (81); and that “the heavenly existence is Jewish” (82, n. 27).

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god—becomes in these traditions the sole focus of all worship, that of Israel and the nations. More radically still, the gods of the nations will be unavailable for worship because they too, at the end, acknowledge the god of Israel (in the Pauline iteration of Jewish apocalyptic thought, because of the cosmic victory of the returning Christ)” (645–46). Fredriksen concludes, “The content of his convictions, his urgent messianic apocalypticism, is novel; his resources for expressing it, entirely and traditionally Jewish” (647). This type of approach to Paul’s apocalyptic thought situates him very close to John of Patmos’s understanding of the temporal, spatial, and epistemological position in light of the coming of Jesus the Davidic Christ. 2. Paul’s Davidic Christ-ship and kingship ideology. A theme that has received little attention in Pauline studies until only recently is Davidic Christ-ship and royal ideology. The landmark work by Matthew Novenson (2012) Christ Among the Messiahs set the Christ cat among the Pauline pigeons. Novenson’s thesis called into question the nearly century old assumption—present in nearly every stripe of Pauline scholarship—that the term Χριστός carried no meaning for Paul. And this in spite of sentiments expressed by outsiders like that of John J. Collins (2010: 2): “Jesus is called Christos, anointed, the Greek equivalent of Christ, 270 times in the Pauline corpus. If this is not ample testimony that Paul regarded Jesus as Christ, then words have no meaning?”17 Novenson convincingly demonstrated that the term is neither a surname (conventional view) nor a title (suggested by Wright). Rather the term is an honorific much like “Augustus” in Imperator Caesar Augustus. The implication is far-reaching. In an article seeking to extend Novenson’s thesis, I argued that once Paul embraced the Davidic interpretation of Christ texts of the Jewish Scriptures, his Messianic expectations would be shaped by a Davidic imprint. Thus, Paul’s messianism was laden with Davidic freight (2012: eps. 150–51). Not unlike the relationship between John of Patmos and Paul is the relationship between Matthew and Paul. In a similar vein, I attempted a rapprochement between the two in suggesting a “basic theological affinity” between the two if one reassesses the traditional understanding of Paul (2011: 63). In particular, I highlighted the Davidic character of Paul’s letter to the Romans (2011: 72–77). In Romans, the Davidic Christ-ship of Jesus forms an inclusion for the letter with references to it in both Chapters 1 (1:3) and 15 (15:8-12).18 Even more recently, Joshua Jipp (2015) published an important work on Paul’s use of kingship discourse as a source of his Christology. This study broadens the discussion and situates Paul’s Davidic Christology in the royal ideology of the Greco-Roman world. Jipp states,

17. There were some exceptions to the scholarly rule, namely Davies (1980: 324); Wright (1991); Hays (2000); Hays (2005: 101–08); and Wright (2005: 42–50). 18. See the important discussion of Rom. 15:8-12 by Wagner (1997).

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The Early Reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew One significant, yet underdeveloped, set of conceptual and metaphorical resources for understanding Paul’s christological language is ancient kingship discourse and the many texts devoted to reflections upon the ideal king. Paul’s Christ-discourse is heavily indebted to his own creative reflection upon ancient royal ideology, as activated through the fate of Jesus and the early Christians’ continued experience of him. . . . The cumulative effect of my argument is that Paul’s language about Christ cannot be fully appreciated apart from recognizing that quite frequently Paul is setting forth a vision of Christ as the king. (9–11)

These important developments in the recent study of Paul’s Christology bring John of Patmos and Paul much closer together conceptually and make their affinity with each other much more likely than their antimony. 3. Paul’s “Judaizing” mission among pagans. Finally, I wish to mention briefly an argument Paula Fredriksen has recently made that Paul conducted a “radical form of Judaizing.” While this undoubtedly sounds implausible to ears tuned by the traditional interpretation of Paul, Fredriksen dismantles the foundations of the commonplace “law-free mission” to the Gentiles through a rigorous historical assessment. I will provide an extended quotation to sum up her argument: The phrase “law free,” finally, reinforces our failure to perceive how much of what Paul was doing is actually Judaizing .  .  . . “To Judaize” normally indicated either fully assuming Jewish ancestral custom (that is, what we call “converting”) or god-fearing (adding Israel’s god to one’s native pantheon). Paul explicitly condemns both of these options. Yet Paul’s core message was not, “Don’t circumcise!” It was, “No more λατρεία to lower gods!” He insisted that his pagans conform their new behavior precisely to the mandates of Jewish worship, the first table of the law: no other gods, and no idols. Further, he explicitly urges the law’s second table on the community at Rome (Rom 13:9–10): no adultery, no murder, no theft, no coveting: loving the neighbor fulfills the law’s second table, δικαιοσύνη. Paul’s gospel is a Judaizing gospel. Small wonder: kingdom of God is a Jewish message. (2015: 649)19

Fredriksen’s clear point, and right in my view, is that Paul’s apostolic mission among Gentiles, “ex-pagans,” as she labels them, was promulgating an even more radical halakhic position for Gentiles than some or even most diaspora Jewish associations because he treated them “like converts” requiring them to make an exclusive commitment to Israel’s god. But equally, he argued they were not actually converts because they would not assume the bulk of Jewish ancestral traditions. Likewise, Paul treated Gentile Christ believers “like God-fearers” who retained their native ethnicities. Nevertheless, they were not God-fearers because Paul required them to renounce their native gods

19. See also Fredriksen (2010).

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(2015: 645). For Paul, this state of being as a Gentile Christ believer is because through baptism “pagans have received the spirit” and they are consequently like a “suitable temple sacrifice: they have been made both καθαρός/tahôr and ἅγιος/qādôs” (2015: 646).20 The pay dirt of Fredriksen’s argument for our purpose in this essay is that such Torah-grounded communities founded by Paul whether they be ethnically mixed with the circumcised and the uncircumcised or predominantly uncircumcised would resemble nothing like what the Baurian construct conceives. What is more, Pauline Gentile Christ-believing communities would not seek to call themselves “Jews,” as is assumed by the arguments put forward by Frankfurter and Pagels, given Paul’s ecclesial vision based on his understanding of the apocalyptic moment. Finally, such halakhically shaped ekklēsia would fit comfortably within the perspective of John of Patmos.

Conclusion I think the group John of Patmos refers to as τῶν λεγόντων Ἰουδαίους εἶναι ἑαυτοὺς καὶ οὐκ εἰσὶν ἀλλὰ συναγωγὴ τοῦ σατανᾶ (“those who say that they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan”) is a reference to a rival Jewish association, who in the author’s estimation, were (1) too acculturated into the Roman religious, political, economic, and cultural ideology of Asia Minor and (2) offered some kind of social hostility that caused John of Patmos’s Jewish associations to suffer harm. The conflict then was intra-Jewish. But could it also have been an intra-Christ-believing group conflict? I think the answer is yes it could have been. But what does not appear likely is that John of Patmos’s intraJewish, potentially intra-Christ-believing group polemic, was anti-Pauline. It is possible of course that even assuming Paul’s radical Judaizing mission in which the condoning of the eating of idol food and fornication would be inconceivable, one might still conclude that John of Patmos was responding to Gentile Christ believers who were not Jewish enough—their halakhic practice was weighed and found wanting as Frankfurter suggested. But this is not probable since it would require evidence that within the Jewish diaspora there were segments of a sectarianism on par with Qumran. To date, I am unaware of any such evidence outside the land of Israel for sectarian groups, let alone those with an outlook as sectarian as the community of the Dead Sea Scrolls. If this be so for non-Christ-believing Jewish groups, how much more so for Christ-believing groups. One can hardly imagine a highly scrupulous Jewish Christ-believing group with a perspective on par with Qumran in the Diaspora.

20. See also Fredriksen (2010: 244–49).

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References Aune, D. E. (1997), Revelation 1–5, Nashville: Thomas Nelson. Baird, W. (1992), History of New Testament Research: Volume One: From Deism to Tübingen, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Baur, F. C. (1878), The Church History of the First Three Centuries, London: Williams and Norgate. Blackwell, B. C., J. K. Goodrich, and J. Matson, eds (2016), Paul and the Apocalyptic Imagination, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Boccaccini, G., C. A. Segovia, and C. J. Doody (2016), Paul the Jew: Rereading the Apostle as a Figure of Second Temple Judaism, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Bultmann, R. (2007), Theology of the New Testament, Waco: Baylor University Press. Campbell, D. A. (2016), “Apocalyptic Epistemology: The Sine Qua Non of Valid Pauline Interpretation,” in B. C. Blackwell, J. K. Goodrich, and J. Matson (eds.), Paul and the Apocalyptic Imagination, 65–85, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Cheung, A. T. (1999), Idol Food in Corinth: Jewish Background and Pauline Legacy, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic. Collins, J. J. (2010), The Scepter and the Star: Messianism in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Davies, W. D. (1980), Paul and Rabbinic Judaism: Some Rabbinic Elements in Pauline Theology, Philadelphia: Fortress Press. Dodd, C. H. (1936), The Apostolic Preaching and Its Developments, London: Hodder & Stoughton. Duff, P. B. (2001), Who Rides the Beast?: Prophetic Rivalry and the Rhetoric of Crisis in the Churches of the Apocalypse, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dunn, J. D. G. (2015), Neither Jew nor Greek: A Contested Identity, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Eisenbaum, P. M. (2009), Paul Was Not a Christian: The Original Message of a Misunderstood Apostle, New York: HarperOne. Frankfurter, D. (2001), “Jews or Not: Reconstructing the Other in Rev 2:9 and 3:9,” Harvard Theological Review 94 (4): 403–25. Fredriksen, P. (2010). “Judaizing the Nations: The Ritual Demands of Paul’s Gospel,” New Testament Studies 56 (2): 232–52. Fredriksen, P. (2015). “Why Should a ‘Law-Free’ Mission Mean a ‘Law-Free’ Apostle?” Journal of Biblical Literature 134 (3): 637–50. Gager, J. G. (2000), Reinventing Paul, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Garland, D. E. (2003), “The Dispute Over Food Sacrificed to Idols (1 Cor 8:1–11:1),” Perspectives in Religious Studies 30 (2): 173–98. Hayes, C. (1999), “Intermarriage and Impurity in Ancient Jewish Sources,” Harvard Theological Review 92 (1): 3–36. Hays, R. B. (2000), “The Letter to the Galatians,” in J. Paul Sampley (ed.), New Interpreter’s Bible, 11, 183–348, Nashville: Abingdon Press. Hays, R. B. (2005), The Conversion of the Imagination: Paul as Interpreter of Israel’s Scripture, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Hirschberg, P. (2006), “Jewish Believers in Asia Minor According to the Book of Revelation and the Gospel of John,” in O. Skarsaune and R. Hvalvik (eds.), A History of Jewish Believers in Jesus: The First Five Centuries, 217–38, Peabody, MA: Hendrickson. Jipp, J. W. (2015), Christ is King: Paul’s Royal Ideology, Minneapolis: Fortress Press.

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Koester, C. R. (2014), Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, The Anchor Yale Bible Commentaries, New Haven: Yale University Press. Lohse, E. (1993), “Synagogue of Satan and Church of God: Jews and Christians in the Book of Revelation,” Svensk exegetisk årsbok 58: 105–23. Marshall, J. W. (2001), Parables of War: Reading John’s Jewish Apocalypse, Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press. Müller, U. B. (1976), Zur frühchristlichen Theologiegeschichte: Judenchristentum u. Paulinismus in Kleinasien an d. Wende vom 1. zum 2. Jh. n. Chr., Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus Mohn. Nanos, M. D. and M. Zetterholm (2015), Paul within Judaism: Restoring the First-Century Context to the Apostle, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Novenson, M. V. (2012), Christ Among the Messiahs: Christ Language in Paul and Messiah Language in Ancient Judaism, New York: Oxford University Press. Pagels, E. H. (2012), Revelations: Visions, Prophecy, and Politics in the Book of Revelation, New York: Viking. Rudolph, D. J. (2011), A Jew to the Jews: Jewish Contours of Pauline Flexibility in 1 Corinthians 9:19-23, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Runesson, A. (2008), “Inventing Christian Identity: Paul, Ignatius, and Theodosius I,” in B. Holmberg (ed.), Exploring Early Christian Identity, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 226, 59–92, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Runesson, A. (2015), “Placing Paul: Institutional Structures and Theological Strategy in the World of the Early Christ-believers,” Svensk exegetisk årsbok 80: 43–67. Runesson, A., D. D. Binder, and B. Olsson, eds (2008), The Ancient Synagogue from its Origins to 200 C.E.: A Source Book, Ancient Judaism and early Christianity 72, Leiden: Brill. Satake, A. (1966), Die Gemeindeordnund in der Johannesapokalypse, Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag. Schüssler Fiorenza, E. (1973), “Apocalyptic and Gnosis in the Book of Revelation and Paul,” Journal of Biblical Literature 92 (4): 565–81. Schüssler Fiorenza, E. (1980), “Apockalysis and Propheteia: The Book of Revelation in the Context of Early Christian Prophecy,” in J. Lambrecht (ed.), L’Apocalypse johannique et l’apocalyptique dans le Nouveau Testament, 105–28, Gembloux: J. Duculot. Stuckenbruck, L. T. (2016), “Some Reflections on Apocalyptic Thought and Time in the Literature from the Second Temple Period,” in B. C. Blackwell, J. K. Goodrich, and J. Matson (eds), Paul and the Apocalyptic Imagination, 137–55, Minneapolis: Fortress. Tomson, P. J. (1990), Paul and the Jewish Law: Halakha in the Letters of the Apostle to the Gentiles, Minneapolis: Fortress. Tomson, P. J. (2001), “If this be from heaven. . .”: Jesus and the New Testament Authors in their Relationship to Judaism, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic. Wagner, J. R. (1997), “The Christ, Servant of Jew and Gentile: A Fresh Approach to Romans 15:8-9,” Journal of Biblical Literature 116 (3): 473–85. Willitts, J. (2009), “The Friendship of Matthew and Paul: A Response to a Recent Trend in the Interpretation of Matthew’s Gospel,” Theological Studies 65 (1): 1–8. Willitts, J. (2011a), “Paul and Jewish Christians in the Second Century,” in M. F. Bird and J. Dodson (eds.), Paul and the Second Century, Library of New Testament Studies 412, 140–68, London: T&T Clark. Willitts, J. (2011b), “Paul and Matthew: A Descriptive Approach from a Post-New Perspective Interpretive Framework,” in M. F. Bird and J. Willitts (eds), Paul and the

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Gospels: Christologies, Conflicts, and Convergences, Library of New Testament Studies 411, 62–85, London, T&T Clark. Willitts, J. (2012), “Davidic Messiahship in Galatians: Clearing the Deck for a Study of the Theme in Galatians,” Journal for the Study of Paul and His Letters 2 (2): 143–61. Willitts, J. (2013), “The Bride of the Messiah and the Israel-ness of the New Heavens and New Earth,” in D. Rudolph and J. Willitts (eds.), Introduction to Messianic Judaism: Its Ecclesial Context and Biblical Foundations, 260–69, Grand Rapids, Zondervan. Wright, N. T. (1991), The Climax of the Covenant: Christ and the Law in Pauline Theology, Minneapolis: Fortress. Wright, N. T. (2005), Paul: In Fresh Perspective, Minneapolis: Fortress. Zetterholm, M. (2009), Approaches To Paul: A Student’s Guide to Recent Scholarship, Minneapolis: Fortress.

Part IV T HE R ECEPTION OF P AUL THE S ECOND T EMPLE J EW IN THE A CTS OF THE A POSTLES

Chapter 11 WHY SHOULD EXPERTS IGNORE ACTS IN PAULINE RESEARCH? James H. Charlesworth

The chapter will focus on one question: In working on the life and thought of Paul, should one ignore Acts and focus only on what Paul clearly wrote?1 How do we grasp the mind of “the first and greatest Christian theologian,” to use the words of James D. G. Dunn (1998: 2)? Of course, Dunn would not wish to suggest that Paul should be categorized as a “Christian”; he was a devout Jew, as he claimed. Additional questions follow. Paul claimed to be thoroughly Jewish, deeply indebted to Judaism, and a devout Jew. Is this perspective compromised by the author of Acts?2 How is Paul represented in Acts? Is Acts the first example of Paul’s Wirkungsgeschichte and a work from the Pauline School?

A Long-Held Consensus That in Studying Paul’s Theology We Must Exclude Acts Following the denigration of the historicity of Acts by such influential Pauline experts as Karl Schrader, F. C. Baur, Matthias Schneckenburger, Albert Schwegler, Ernest Renan, Franz Overbeck, and Adolf Jülicher,3 the wide consensus for about two centuries (at least among liberal thinkers) has been that in working on Paul’s

1. The chapter is a contribution to discussions and seeks to push forward for re-examination the rejection of Acts in Pauline research. I am not attempting to present a consensus or trying to represent Paul’s thought. He was not consistent, systematic, or logical; he was phenomenological and therefore insightful about contextualizing our statements and claims. 2. In a separate publication, I shall explore another question: “Does Acts indicate a ‘Parting-of-the-Ways’?” 3. For a succinct review of this development, see Sandmel (1958: 149–57).

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life and thought we should exclude Acts. We must concentrate only on Paul’s own undisputed compositions, namely 1 Thessalonians, 1 and 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Romans, Philippians, and Philemon. Arthur C. McGiffert (1897) rejected Acts as providing data important in Pauline research, and his arguments have been dominant. For example, Samuel Sandmel judged that the “Road to Damascus” is “romance” and the claim that Paul sought to get “extradition papers” is “pure fiction.” Paul’s Roman citizenship is merely “a pipe-dream.” Thus, Sandmel classified Acts “not with history but with legend” (1958: 156–57). How accurate is this assessment among leading Pauline scholars today? During most of my life, I have heard lectures that disparage anyone who assumes there is any history in Acts. The denigration of the author of Acts as a bearer of historical information and a portrayal of him as one who created fiction are hallmarks of F. C. Baur’s work and the Tübingen School.4 Such treatment of Acts characterizes the commentaries on Acts by E. Haenchen (1971: 112–16) and H. Conzelmann.5 For about a century, the vast majority of those who wrote on “the Life of Paul” or “Paul’s Theology” ignored Acts because it is not by Paul. In his The Theology of St. Paul, D. E. H. Whiteley is only interested in “an examination of St. Paul’s own thought” and excludes Acts, the Pastorals, and Ephesians (1966). There are valid reasons for this relegation of Acts. What an author himself wrote should trump what others have said about him. No one has assumed or should argue that Paul wrote Acts; hence, scholars have a major point when they say we should look at what Paul wrote if we desire to hear from him. In the view of our present inquiry, here are five pertinent reflections for discussion; and they indicate why we should be cautious in using Acts if we seek to understand Paul. Do they indicate that we should not include Acts in understanding Paul? First, in his letters, especially Galatians 1 and Philippians 1, Paul is proud of his apostleship but reticent to discuss his revelatory “conversion” experience. In contrast, the author of Acts places his conversion in central focus and refuses to laud him with the title of apostle because, as Chris Beker (1980: 5) stated: “He does not have the proper historical ‘apostolic’ credentials (Acts 1:21-22; cf. Acts 13:31).” As Beker pointed out, Acts 14:4 and 14 are the exceptions that prove the rule. If the author of Acts is a faithful exponent of Paul, why does he not stress the reason Paul himself claimed to be one of the authentic interpreters of the Good News? That is, Paul claimed the risen Christ had appointed him with the status of an apostle; recall the opening of Romans: Παῦλος δοῦλος Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ, κλητὸς ἀπόστολος ἀφωρισμένος εἰς εὐαγγέλιον θεοῦ (Rom. 1:1). The author of

4. This School’s Tendenzen and biased historiography were exposed by E. Meyer (1923, 3:64). I am indebted to Hengel and Deines for this information. 5. Many of Conzelmann’s arguments regarding the difference between Paul and Acts remain solid, as the Lucan omission of Paul’s theology of the cross and doctrine of justification. See especially Conzelmann (1966: 298–316).

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Acts, however, limits apostleship to Jesus’s historical Twelve (Acts 1:21-22; 13:31). Matthias, not Paul, replaced Judas. Second, why does the author of Acts minimize Paul as an original thinker and emphasize his life and missionary activity? As John Knox (1950: 92) pointed out, Paul claims to be a masterful composer of epistles but a weak orator (2 Cor. 10:10). In contrast, the author of Acts presents Paul as subsumed under the kerygmata without any originality (Dodd 1951). He is an orator and no writer at all; the epistles are not mentioned. According to Acts 14:12, Paul is perceived to be Hermes because of his ability with speech and perhaps eloquence. How do we solve this discrepancy? Third, Acts shows little knowledge of Paul’s anti-Law rhetoric. It contains virtually nothing about Paul’s “gospel” of being free from the Law. Yet, in Paul’s letters, especially Romans, Paul claims that the Law is no longer efficacious. It cannot help to save the sinner. Fourth, according to Acts 5:36, a certain Theudas led a rebellion “before these days”; that would mean, the time prior to when Peter and some apostles were thrown into prison and then released (but only to proclaim that God had exalted Jesus, the crucified one, as Savior). According to many experts on Paul, Luke misleads the reader; he is misinformed. Theudas’s rebellion occurred in 44 CE, as we know from Josephus (Ant. 20:97)6 and that is after the time of the episode in the Temple. As Craig S. Keener (2012–15, 2:1231) states, Luke’s account here is misinformed and secular historians question his veracity. One should also point out that Judas, the revolutionary, is not from Galilee, as Luke claims (Acts 5:37); he was from Gamla in the Golan Heights. As has been obvious to me for decades, some historians conclude this lack of precision undermines Luke’s credibility and he should not be consulted when exploring Paul’s life and what Paul meant in his own letters. Fifth, and most prominent in discussions, are the reports of “a council” in Acts 15 and in Galatians 2. If they report on the same gathering in Jerusalem, why are they so astoundingly different? Obviously, a solution does not include that we just ignore Acts. Finally, Luke wrote when Paul was often seriously misrepresented. Paul’s epistles reveal him to be unique. He says many contradictory things, especially about the Law. He was misunderstood not only after but during his life. His letters are defined by contingencies; clearly 1 Thessalonians does not mirror the same social and theological situation as 2 Thessalonians, Galatians, and Romans. Different problems demanded answers that seem to conflict with questions unknown to us. We work in the dark about what questions were addressed to Paul, either orally or in a lost letter from Thessalonica, Galatia, Corinth, and elsewhere. And there must have been many letters sent to him and some that he wrote that are now lost or excerpted in 1–2 (and even 3) Corinthians.

6. Josephus can be contradictory; but with regard to Theudas, he seems more reliable than Luke. The two accounts cannot be harmonized; see Johnson (1992: 99).

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Why Exclude Acts? It is certain that Acts was written by the author of Luke-Acts, perhaps Luke or more likely an anonymous person as is the case with most of the gospels. We scholars refer to Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John; we choose to employ titles known to readers today. We do not intend to suggest that the authors are Mark, the companion of Peter; Matthew, the Apostle; Luke, the companion of Paul; or John, the Apostle. Attempts to prove these conclusions have left us with the concept of anonymity and the evidence of editing traditions. This editing and altering for theological reasons is not only obvious in the study of the works in the New Testament corpus but also in their copying from the second century to the present. However, to claim that Acts is not by Paul and that we must look only at what Paul wrote indicates a myopia about the debates concerning Paul’s authentic letters, a discussion that is found in both antiquity and in modernity. I am convinced that Luke-Acts is by one person, for me anonymous, who employs similar language and rhetoric, in order to present a cohesive narrative, as Charles Talbert (2005), Robert C. Tannehill (1990), and Craig Keener (2012–15, 4:3777) have demonstrated. Acts may not be composed by a companion of Paul, but the “we” passages in Acts are either by a companion of Paul or one who knows verisimilitude. Did someone follow Paul’s missionary journeys and describe precisely what he would have experienced? If so, as so many Pauline scholars suggest, then we have a new question: How did that author know about Paul’s missionary journeys. What were his sources? No one today trained in historiography would make sweeping general statements like concluding Acts is pure fiction.7 Some sections of it, especially Acts 3:1-26, have often been judged to be a source used and edited by the author of Acts, and it preserves, I am convinced, some genuine historical and reliable core memories.8 We now confront the claim and unexamined presupposition that Acts cannot contain any authentic record or memory of Paul’s life or thought. How do we know that? The author of Luke-Acts claims at the outset in Lk. 1:1-4 that he will present history accurately, orderly, and will cross-examine as many witnesses as possible. His target words and concepts suggest that he, like Josephus, knows Polybius, Book XII. These reflections lead many scholars to reject the opinion of some Pauline experts who are persuaded that the author of Acts tended to be suspicious of Paul’s thought, suppressed it, and even misinterpreted it (Beker 1980: 110). I am convinced it is time to reevaluate R. M. Ramsey’s acceptance of Acts (1906). Ramsey held that Acts preserves “Paul’s view.” Although not dependent on written sources, Acts preserves valuable oral “accounts of actors (especially Paul),” and was “partly written down from personal knowledge (in which case the author

7. Gaventa (2003: 178) rightly points out our main problem regarding the sources of Acts; they are no longer available for scrutiny. 8. Sabugal (1991: 595–613); Goulder (1964: 188); Pervo (2009: 98–99); and Keener (2012–15: 2:1043).

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uses the first personal form of narrative).” Scholarship is turning to recognize that the more we learn about Saul, the Jew, the closer we come to grasping the presuppositions and thought of Paul,9 the follower of Christ.10 Companions in my own study are Jewish colleagues like Daniel Boyarin (1994), David Flusser (1980), Doron Mendels (2013), Samuel Sandmel (1958), and Alan Segal (1990).

Why We Should Not Exclude Acts What compositions are by Paul? Well known is the phenomenon of Pauline letters that are pseudepigraphical. What does that mean? Are they in any way representative of Paul or a fabrication of Paul’s thought to cope with later and different crises within developing Christianity? Scholars do not form a consensus on the author of 2 Thessalonians, Ephesians (which contains the most parallels with Qumran),11 or Colossians. And some Pauline experts are convinced that Hebrews is a composition by Paul.12 If these documents are composed by Paul or represent Paul’s thought, even developed, then excluding Acts becomes a grave problem. And why would anyone imagine, having read all the undisputed letters of Paul, that Paul’s thought did not evolve and change. Did not Henry Shires prove—in 1966—that Paul himself held many different views on apocalyptic eschatology?13 Acts is an edited account of Paul’s speeches and life, and it postdates Paul’s life. Traditions that are edited and expanded for various reasons are the sources we have for the beginnings of Christianity. Did not Fergus Millar illustrate that even second-century CE novels and the New Testament Apocrypha can convey “realistic images of social and economic relations” (1981: 63)? We have nothing Jesus wrote; we have only edited and selected traditions and theologically developed post-Easter gospels. However, most scholars devoted to Jesus Research rightly conclude that they contain authentic Jesus traditions. Why

9. Jerome Murphy-O’Connor denounced his earlier naïve rejection of history in Acts and asserted that conclusions derived from Paul’s epistles “must be confronted with the evidence of Acts” (1997: 8). 10. The list of luminaries who argued for Paul’s Jewishness include Deissmann (1926); Davies (1955); and Flusser (1980: 19–37); unfortunately, this publication was not chosen for translation in Flusser’s Judaism of the Second Temple Period). For decades, the influence of Bultmann’s focus on the Hellenistic influences in the history of religions school was the key to Pauline thought. See Bultmann (1929: 26–59; 1951, 1:187–89). Lüdemann (1989: 1–18) shows the way forward to perceiving some reliable history in Acts. 11. See Charlesworth (1969: 624–26); Charlesworth and Murphy-O’Connor (1990). 12. James Swetnam holds that view. Long ago, Hippolytus judged that Paul did not write Hebrews. See Wilson (1994: 37–38, 131). 13. See Charlesworth (2016a: 83–105).

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would we then exclude Acts? It is a source. All relevant sources, especially those first in line of Wirkungsgeschichte, must be weighed and used. Did not Polybius (Hist. 12.4c.4-5) stress that “an historian” should “inquire from as many people as possible, to believe those worthy of belief (τοῖς ἀξίοις πίστεως) and to be an adequate critic of the reports that reach him (κριτὴν δ᾿ εἶναι τῶν προσπιπτόντων μὴ κακόν).”14 Hence, we must be an insightful critic of Luke’s report about Paul; we should not ignore it or categorize it as legend. There are many layers in Acts, some of Paul and Peter’s speeches seem to represent the thought of the author of Acts, but others seem authentic or at least preserve traditions that originate with Paul and Peter. According to many scholars, notably Sabugal, Goulder, Pervo, and Keener, some of Peter and Paul’s speeches in Acts seem to preserve reliable traditions redacted by the author of Acts. In contrast to sources pertaining to Jesus and Paul, most of our traditions for Hillel, who lived before Jesus and Paul, appear in the sixth-century Babylonian Talmud or derive from a Baraita (a source not in the Mishnah) of the third century; but, even so, they are hundreds of years after the time of Hillel and represent a very different type of Judaism. Acts was written within one hundred years of Paul and is a mixture of pre-70 Judaism and post-70 Judaism. In some locals and in some traditions, 70 CE was not a barrier but a bridge; that is, works like 4 Ezra were written after 70 CE but represent intermittently the thought of pre-70 CE Jews. The time when a work was composed does not necessarily date the traditions transmitted in it; it only dates when they were put down in writing (according to our limited knowledge). Many scholars have dismissed the possibility that Luke, the author of LukeActs, could have had any relation with Paul, or been his disciple, since he does not appreciably agree with Paul. That is quite a judgment. Aristotle was not given the head of Plato’s Academy because he differed from him. Many in the so-called Pauline School and composers of the pseudepigraphic epistles obviously felt comfortable in differing from Paul. Bultmann’s most famous student and his favorite, Ernst Käsemann, is famous for disagreeing with his teacher. Luke cannot be disassociated from knowing about Paul because he held a different Christology and theology than his putative “teacher.” These reflections, however, do not indicate Luke was a Paulinist; but he did admire and defend Paul. To claim that Acts presents a Paul different from what we find in his letters assumes that Paul is consistent and that all his authentic letters represent the same concentration. This assumption ought to be dismissed, 1 Thessalonians 4 defends an imminent eschatology in which Paul believes he will be alive and carried up into the clouds to meet the returning and triumphant Christ. Such an emphasis is not representative of Romans, his major epistle. Since Paul was interpreted during his lifetime in such obviously different ways and since he wrote almost always to address a particular contingency or misunderstanding, it becomes absurd to ignore an early presentation of what Paul confronted and may have experienced.

14. Polybius (1976, 4: 316–17) vol. 4, pp. 316–17. Polybius Hist 12.4c.4-5.

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As William S. Campbell claims, we must not portray Paul as an abstract thinker with timelessness devoid of context (2000: 208). Comprehended in light of the vast amount of knowledge we now have of Second Temple Judaism, its varieties and fecund theological sophistications, Luke, as Martin Hengel with Roland Deines stated, “proves to be a more reliable witness than many people nowadays assume under the influence of an all too cheap criticism of his writings” (1991: x). The dam that held back consideration of Acts is breaking, but not like the dam above Johnstown. Although considering Acts never more “than secondary and supportive,” James D. G. Dunn does not ignore Acts. Note his decision: “The Theology of Paul cannot be more than the sum of the theology of each of the individual letters for the obvious reason that these letters are the only firm evidence we have of Paul’s theology” (1998: 14 n. 41). In his massive two volumes on Paul, N. T. Wright, resisting any naïve assumption regarding the historicity of Acts, includes Ephesians, 2 Thessalonians along with the seven undisputed letters of Paul; thus, “nothing massive will rest on Acts, but it will be interesting from time to time to see what possibilities emerge as we look at Paul from fresh angles” (2013: 63).15 In summation, I doubt scholars will now be persuaded that the following report is pure fiction (Acts 22:1-5): “Brothers and fathers, listen to the defense that I now make before you.” 2When they heard him addressing them in Hebrew, they became even more quiet. Then he said: 3“I am a Jew, born in Tarsus in Cilicia, but brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel, educated strictly according to our ancestral law, being zealous for God, just as all of you are today. 4I persecuted this Way up to the point of death by binding both men and women and putting them in prison, 5as the high priest and the whole council of elders can testify about me. From them I also received letters to the brothers in Damascus, and I went there in order to bind those who were there and to bring them back to Jerusalem for punishment.” [NRSV]

Did Paul study under Gamaliel (‫ ?)רבן גמליאל הזקן‬Is that preposterous or is it possibly informative and correct? We will turn to that question later. Now, suffice it to conclude with Alan F. Segal (1990: 239): “Although Acts is not above reproach as a historical source, it could be correc t i n portraying Paul’s decision at this juncture, for Paul himself tries to avoid open conflict (e.g., 2 Cor. 1:23).” The preceding reflections lead us to three pertinent issues concerning Paul and Acts: 1) The arguments against Paul being a Roman citizen are unpersuasive, even though Sandmel categorized Paul’s Roman citizenship as “a pipe-dream” (1958: 156). During and following mob riots, magistrates would not be diverted by any claim by Paul to be a Roman citizen and Paul had no so-called passport to clear himself. Just before the First Jewish Revolt (66–70), Gessius Florus flogged and

15. Also see Charlesworth (2016b: 207–34).

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crucified two Jews who were Roman equites;16 hence, Paul’s Roman citizenship would not necessarily have saved him from great suffering and death. Ancient evidence indicates that some Jews of Asia became Roman citizens (Jos., Ant. 14.228ff.; Apion 2:38–39).17 It could be trustworthy. As Martin Hengel advised (1991: 11–15), it is likely that Paul’s father was a freed slave who obtained citizenship.18 2) About 30 percent of Acts is about Paul’s imprisonments in Philippi and Rome. No reputable scholar would doubt that there is history in these passages; Paul himself makes it clear that he was imprisoned in numerous locations. In light of the many types of imprisonments in the Roman world, from protective to punitive incarceration or from reus19 and custodia libera (including outside a prison and without chains)20 to the subterranean and dark cell (the state prison [carcer] and Tullianum),21 it becomes certain that the author of Acts may have well represented Paul’s incarceration in historical, not modern, terms and conditions. The emperors Vitellius and Ortho, about the time of Paul, imprisoned individuals to protect them (Tacitus, Hist. 1.58.71). Hence, Paul’s final imprisonment makes sense in terms of Roman jurisprudence. 3) The author of Acts presents Paul with a triple identity: He is a Tarsian, a Roman citizen, and a Jew. According to the author of Acts 21:39, Paul was a citizen of Tarsus. According to Acts 16:37-39 and 22:25, Paul claims to be a Roman citizen. 37

But Paul replied, “They have beaten us in public, uncondemned, men who are Roman citizens, and have thrown us into prison; and now are they going to discharge us in secret? Certainly not! Let them come and take us out themselves.” 38 The police reported these words to the magistrates, and they were afraid when they heard that they were Roman citizens; 39so they came and apologized to them. And they took them out and asked them to leave the city. [Acts 16:3739; NRSV] 25

But when they had tied him up with thongs, Paul said to the centurion who was standing by, “Is it legal for you to flog a Roman citizen who is uncondemned?” [Acts 22:25; NRSV]

Many scholars conclude this tripartite identity is a creation by Luke (Lentz 1993). W. Stegemann (1987: 200–29), for example, doubts that Paul was a Roman citizen. It does seem odd that Paul’s credentials are enunciated only when the author of Acts describes Paul in trouble with Roman authorities.

16. See the succinct and amazingly informed reflections by Hengel with Deines (1991: 6–15). 17. See Le Cornu and Shulam (2003, 1:446). 18. Murphy-O’Connor (1997: 41) judged Hengel’s explanation to be the “simplest.” 19. See Garnsey (1966: 167–89). 20. See especially Krauss Tübingen (1895: 72) and Rapske (1994). 21. Sallust, Cat. 55.3. I am indebted to Rapske (1994) for many of these primary sources.

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In Paul in Roman Custody, Brian Rapske, with unusual erudition and knowledge of ancient Greek and Latin sources, concluded that this triple identity of Paul is explicable in light of inscriptions and Roman penal rules and regulations. As the author of Acts clarifies, it made a difference to magistrates that Paul had a legal and social persona. Paul had credentials; sometimes they saved his life. Inscriptions prove that Jews could be a Roman citizen and a practicing and loyal Jew, as A. D. Nock (1972, 2:961), E. M. Smallwood (1976), and A. R. Seager with A. T. Kraabel (1983: 168–91, 281–85),22 for different reasons, demonstrate. The author of Acts may be trusted here.23 Three further reflections suggest that Pauline scholars should not jettison Acts in studying Paul’s life and teachings. First, Luke in Acts 18:12-17 reports historical specifics. They are so specific that his own historiography and integrity would implode if he were not accurate. He refers to “Gallio,” who is L. Junius Gallio Annaeanus (born M. Annaeus Novatus) and that he was proconsul of “Achaia” when Paul was charged by local Jews. This information appears accurate and is confirmed by an inscription at Delphi (SIB3 801). This inscription enables historians to discern when Gallio was in Corinth within two years of accuracy. Gallio became proconsul in July 51 CE, the exact time Paul was working in Corinth.24 Gallio was probably in Corinth only for three months, from July to September 51 CE (Le Cornu and Shulam 2003, 2:1003). The inscription provides the surest scientific reference for Paul’s chronology. Luke’s information is accurate (Keener 2012–15, 3:2758–66). Second, at Caesarea Maritima archaeologists have found the port that was built by Herod the Great sometime after 37 BCE. Archaeologists have also found, a theater, a temple to Augustus, and probably the prison for Paul (Porath 2013). The foundations of the praetorian guard are exposed and one can imagine where Paul was “imprisoned.” Caesarea Maritima is well known and one can imagine the site during the time of Paul’s stay there thanks to the Hendler Collection (AmoraiStark, Hershkovitz, with Holland 2016). Third, Gamaliel, according to Acts 22:1-5, cited at length above, was Paul’s teacher according to Luke. This claim is often discounted. But a reading of Paul indicates that he knows rabbinic methods (as I shall indicate later). Long ago in Paul and Rabbinic Judaism: Some Rabbinic Elements in Pauline Theology (1958), W. D. Davies proved to many, and at least to me, that Paul should be comprehended in light of Palestinian Judaism, and for Davies, in his first book, that meant Rabbinics. While rabbinic documents postdate Paul, we are finding evidence of this method in pre-70 CE texts like the type of Hebrew found in some of the Qumran scrolls,

22. One must observe that the Sardis inscriptions are not all by Jews and are late for our focus on Paul (the coins under the mosaic are from the fourth century CE) but Jews were prominent in Sardis by the mid-first century BCE. See Rapske (1994: 77–79). 23. See also Hemer (1989: 20) who claims: “If we refuse to use Acts, we can know relatively little of Paul.” 24. See the facts reported by Bruce (1951: 346).

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the evidence of pre-70 CE Targumim, and the mention of “midrash” in Midrash Sepher Moshe. Hence, Paul possibly learned such exegetical norms from Gamaliel. Against the History of Religions School, Davies sought to prove that Paul’s mind belonged to main stream first-century Judaism. His major discovery was the Noachian Commandments and the proof that Paul was familiar with them. Noah was the common ancestor of all living after him; thus, what was commanded through him pertained to all humans. They were guilty as Paul claimed in the opening of Romans. Basing his insights on Genesis Rabba 16.6; b. ‘Abodah Zarah 64b, Sanhedrin 56a, and 56b, Davies advised that there were at least six Noachian Laws: 1) never to worship idols, 2) never to blaspheme God’s name, 3) to establish courts of justice, 4) not to kill, 5) no adultery, and 6) prohibition against robbery. Since Davies’s publications, we have become more acquainted with Noah traditions and Noah compositions within Second Temple Judaism, notably Book of Noah (1Q19a), Admonition of the Flood (4Q370), The Birth of Noah (4Q534 ar, 4Q535– 536), Noah’s Flood (4Q577), and Sons of Ham (6Q19).25 Given what we now know about frequent and safe travel and the diverse nature of Jewish thought before 70 CE, there is little reason to doubt that Paul was in Jerusalem many times before 30 CE. International travel was practiced by the Hasmoneans. Herod’s sons studied and lived some time in Rome. Philo visited Jerusalem at least once. In The Jewish Roots of Acts, Le Cornu and Shulam (2003, 1:451) conclude: “There seems no good reason to exclude the possibility that Paul was in fact raised in Jerusalem.” According to Acts 23:16, Paul’s relatives probably lived in Jerusalem. They enjoyed enough stature to approach the tribune. According to Acts 26:4, Paul states that he spent a considerable part of his youth and early life in Jerusalem. Since all Pauline scholars are impressed with his erudition, sophistication, mastery of Jewish traditions, and skill in exegesis and hermeneutics, one should imagine he had a distinguished teacher. The most distinguished rabbi was in Jerusalem and famous there and elsewhere.26 He was also related to Hillel whose family originated in the Diaspora and the first one to receive the title Rabban, “our master.” Paul, thence, could have studied under the master Rabban Gamaliel I (c. 1–49 CE and may have flourished from 20 to 40 CE). He was an aristocratic and prestigious Pharisaic rabbi that mastered the Torah and oral traditions; he also possessed an impressive ancestry (Josephus, Life 191). Paul’s sophistication, upbringing, and brilliance would have led him to study under the best, even if the teacher was far more moderate than the student might appreciate. Paul’s upbringing and theology would bring him to Jerusalem and Gamaliel. That Paul could speak Aramaic and Hebrew indicates that he lived sometime in Jerusalem. As many diasporic Jews, like Philo, he was drawn to “the Holy City” and “the Temple.” The Mediterranean Coast was not a cultural barrier and Greek influences (as well as from other cultures) had long before Paul shaped the minds of those living

25. Each scroll is introduced, edited, and translated by Charlesworth (2018). 26. Following the primary sources presented by Cornu and Shulam (2003, 1:454–61).

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in ancient Palestine. In seeking to discern if Paul studied under Gamaliel, we need to comprehend that there were no “libraries” in Jerusalem and that there were no rabbinic Academies anywhere at that time. Likewise, we have compositions that Paul wrote; but we have no way of discerning what Gamaliel taught. While Montefiore and Bousset denied that Paul could have been trained by Gamaliel, much of their reasoning is now suspect since they did not understand the dynamic world of pre-70 CE Palestinian Judaism. In contrast to them, Davies (1958: 1–2) was open to this possibility and the historicity of Acts. In The Jewish Roots of Acts, Le Cornu and Shulam (2003: 1.459) express their judgment that Paul was “an outstanding pupil of Gamaliel (cf. 22:3; Gal. 1:14).”27 But their voice is seldom heard among the present chorus of Pauline experts. The tide seems to be turning so scholars may imagine that Paul studied under Gamaliel, who was linked to Moses and Sinai according to the compilers of Abot (Neusner 1994: 577–78). We should add that dimension to our understanding of Paul’s writings.28 Both Paul and Gamaliel were from wealthy Jewish families, were sophisticated, and dedicated to Torah and its interpretation. In Gal. 1:14, Paul claims that his peers and teachers would have agreed he had advanced significantly in mastering Jewish thought. Would not Paul have chosen the most prominent rabbi in Jerusalem as his teacher? After writing the last paragraph I discovered that Richard Bauckham just published “Gamaliel and Paul” (2016: 87–106). Does he reject as nonsense the possibility that Paul’s teacher was Gamaliel? What are his most important insights? Bauckham begins with Bruce D. Chilton (1992, 2:906) claim: “Whether or not Paul actually had contact with Gamaliel at some point or another is impossible to know.” Chilton was impressed by the apologetic, unhistorical, nature of Luke’s language in Acts 22:3. In Rabbi Paul, Chilton shifted his position, arguing that Paul spent four years studying in Jerusalem with Rabbis, but not under Gamaliel, as that “goes over the top” (2004: 31). Bauckham replies that Chilton’s objections to Paul having studied under Gamaliel are substantial but not conclusive. Neusner and Chilton (2007: 175–223), using methodologies “perplexing” to Bauckham, conclude their study by identifying the fundamental principles that enlivened the theological systems represented by Paul and by the patriarchate represented by Gamaliel I. This insight does not prove that Paul studied under Gamaliel I, but it makes that conclusion more palatable. Bauckham points out that Paul’s family had close social ties with Jews in Jerusalem and that Paul and Gamaliel would have been close since they were Benjamites. Gamaliel is linked with Benjamin through the tradition in the Palestinian Talmud Kallah 9:4, 32a–b, and Paul through his own comment in Phil. 3:5. Bauckham’s brilliance shines in detecting this relationship between Paul and Gamaliel. A connection is forged by the observation that the two families were

27. They refer to Acts 22:3. 28. See the review of scholarly opinions and eventual avocation that Paul studied under Gamaliel by Keener (2012–15, 3:3215–22).

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Torah-observant Pharisees and from the elite echelon. We should never doubt that diasporic Jews were related to Jews in Palestine. Bauckham speculates that Paul might be related to the Gamaliel family. He concludes that Paul might well have “learned at the feet of Gamaliel.” If so, Acts becomes even more relevant and important for studying Paul. For me, the most important evidence that Paul should be understood in terms of early rabbinics is Paul’s use of the seven exegetical rules traditionally associated with Hillel. These rules are not Hillel’s own creation; they are rules for interpretation known to Hillel and his contemporaries. That Paul knew these rules and used them in Galatians and Romans shows his Pharisaic training (Davies 1999, 3:688). This evidence may connect him with Gamaliel who conceivably was a relative of Hillel according to traditions preserved in Avot 1:16. These excursions into Pauline studies indicate that Acts must not be ignored in the study of Paul, but they must not be equated with what Paul himself wrote. The latter is no longer so clear, as the reference to the “undisputed” letters of Paul is not disputed (as was evident during the proceedings of the present congress). I would prefer to study Paul’s own words, as unsystematic as they appear, first and foremost. Then, I would include Acts, not only for contextualizing his life, but for insight or contrast. All ancient sources related to Paul must be consulted and used judiciously; they should not be ignored.

Conclusion We have seen that a study of Paul has been prosecuted too often from within the confines of libraries or offices. This method lacks a phenomenological immersion in the world that Paul and Luke knew (van Unnik 1979: 60). As Polybius demonstrated, a historian must not live in a library, like his bête noire Timaeus, but must know topography and social settings. Acts helps us grasp the topographies and social settings of Saul and Paul. The more we learn about Saul the Jew the closer we come to grasping the presuppositions and thought of Paul, the follower of Christ. Since Albert Schweitzer’s The Mysticism of St. Paul the Apostle (1953)29 and H. St. John Thackeray’s St. Paul and Contemporary Jewish Theology (1900), it has been more and more clear that Paul is deeply indebted to apocalyptic Judaism. This point has been emphasized, persuasively, by Ernst Käsemann, J. Louis Martyn, J. Christiaan Beker, Marinus C. de Boer (1988), and others.30

29. The first draft of this book was made in 1906. Schweitzer advocated the “purely eschatological” interpretation of Paul and assumed “the complete agreement of the teaching of Paul with that of Jesus. The Hellenization of Christianity does not come in with Paul, but only after him” (viii). Schweitzer was convinced that the Areopagus in Acts is unhistorical “and to be ascribed solely to the writer of Acts” (6). 30. Charlesworth (2016a).

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A review of Paul’s Wirkungsgeschichte shows that the historical Paul was basically ignored, except in the School of Paul and except among some Gnostics as in the Ascent of Paul (Epiphanius, Adv. haer. 38.2). Paul became a major voice during the time of Augustine, and Paul’s thought first became influential in the Reformation, with Luther and then Wesley. But Paul was too often seen with a “catholic” view that blended Paul’s letters with his spurious letters and Acts (Beker 1980: 28–29). When one includes Acts in the attempt to understand Paul in his own lifetime, a major corrective appears to many treatments of Paul, especially those by the great scholars Bultmann and Bornkamm. We find a resistance to present Paul as a systematic thinker who is above the shifting contexts in which he lived.31 It is no longer acceptable to sift through his genuine letters and isolate thoughts on sin, Adam, redemption, justification, salvation, and resurrection—or Christ, Cross, Church. We must not forget what we learned from James Barr (1961); he effectively showed the meaning of words cannot be isolated from their narrative contexts. The meaning of words is not to be found in lexicons but in passages where a particular word has been chosen. Then, by studying the word in which it lives we can appreciate that words have physiognomies, as Maurice Merleau-Ponty demonstrated (Charlesworth 1970: 609–13). Paul’s authentic epistles should be studied and explained without ignoring Acts. The two corpori are primary sources for the great Jewish mind that stands first in the line of brilliant Christian theologians.

References Amorai-Stark, S., and M. Hershkovitz with the assistance of L. Holland (2016), Ancient Gems, Finger Rings and Seal Boxes from Caesarea Maritima: The Hendler Collection, Tel Aviv : Shay Hendler (privately published). ISBN 978-965-555-911-B. Purchase from P.O. Box 1545, Zichron Yaakov, 3090000 Israel. Barr, J. (1961), The Semantics of Biblical Language, London: Oxford University Press. Bauckham, R. (2016), “Gamaliel and Paul,” in A. J. Avery-Peck, C. A. Evans, and J. Neusner (eds.), Earliest Christianity Within the Boundaries of Judaism: Essay in Honor of Bruce Chilton, 87–106, The Brill Reference Library of Judaism 49, Leiden: Brill. Beker, J. C. (1980), Paul the Apostle: The Triumph of God in Life and Thought, Philadelphia: Fortress Press. Boyarin, D. (1994), A Radical Jew: Paul and the Politics of Identity, Berkeley : University of California Press. Bruce, F. F. (1951), The Acts of the Apostles, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Bultmann, R. (1929), “Zur Geschichte des Paulus-Forschung,” Theologische Rundschau 1: 26–59.

31. See the reflections of Chris Beker (1980: 40–41) who was famous for stressing the balance between contingency and coherency. Paul must be contextualized and not systematized. Long ago, Deissmann (1926: 23) stressed that Romans is not a compendium of Paul’s theology “and to endorse that assumption implies great misunderstanding.”

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Butlmann, R. (1951), “The Historical Position of Paul,” in K. Grobel (trans.), Theology of the New Testament, vol. 1, 187–89, New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Campbell, W. S. (2000), “Divergent Images of Paul and His Mission,” in C. Grenholm and D. Patte (eds.), Reading Israel in Romans: Legitimacy and Plausibility of Divergent Interpretations, 187–211, Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, see esp. p. 208. Charlesworth, J. C. (1969), “Saint Paul et Qumran,” Revue Biblique 76 (4): 624–26. Charlesworth, J. C. (1970), “Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenological Description of ‘Word,’” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 30: 609–13. Charlesworth, J. C. (2016a), “Paul, the Jewish Apocalypses, and Apocalyptic Eschatology,” in Carlos Segovia (ed.), Paul the Jew: Rereading the Apostle as a Figure of Second Temple Judaism, 83–105, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Charlesworth, J. C. (2016b), “Wright’s Paradigm of Early Jewish Thought: Avoidance of Anachronisms?” in C. Heilig, J. T. Hewitt, M. F. Bird, and N. T. Wright (eds.), God and the Faithfulness of Paul, 207–34, Wissenschatfliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2.413, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Charlesworth, J. C. et al., eds (2018), Genesis Apocryphon, Noah Traditions, and Related Documents, vol. 8 in the Princeton Dead Sea Scrolls Series, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Charlesworth, J. C., and J. Murphy-O’Connor, eds (1990), Paul and the Dead Sea Scrolls, Christian Origins Library, New York: Crossroad. Chilton, B. D. (1992), “Gamaliel,” in D. N. Freedman (ed.), Anchor Bible Dictionary, 6 vols., 2.903–06, New York: Doubleday. Chilton, B. D. (2004), Rabbi Paul: An Intellectual Biography, New York: Doubleday. Chilton, B. D., and J. Neusner (2007), “Paul and Gamaliel,” in J. Neusner and B. D. Chilton (eds.), In Quest of the Historical Pharisees, 175–223, Waco, TX: Baylor. Conzelmann, H. (1966), “Luke’s Place in the Development of Early Christianity,” in L.E. Keck and J. Louis Martyn (eds.), Studies in Luke-Acts, 298–316, Nashville and New York: Abingdon. Davies, W. D. ([1948] 1955), Paul and Rabbinic Judaism, London: SPCK. Davies, W. D. (1958), Paul and Rabbinic Judaism, London: SPCK. Davies, W. D. (1999), “Paul: from a Jewish point of view,” in W. Horbury, W. D. Davies, and J. S Sturdy (eds.), The Cambridge History of Judaism, vol. 3, pp. 678–730, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. de Boer, M. C. (1988), The Defeat of Death: Apocalyptic Eschatology in 1 Corinthians 15 and Romans 5, Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series 22, Sheffield: JSOT Press. Deissmann, A. (1926), Paul: A Study in Social and Religious History, trans. W. E. Wilson, London: Hodder and Stoughton. Dodd, C. H. ([1935] 1951), The Apostolic Preaching and Its Development, New York: Harper & Row. Dunn, J. D. G (1998), The Theology of Paul the Apostle, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Flusser, D. (1980), “Die jüdische und griechische Bildung des Paulus,” in E. Lessing (ed.), Paulus, 19–37, Freiburg: Herder. Garnsey, P. D. A. (1966), “The Lex Julia and Appeal Under the Empire,” Journal of Roman Studies 56: 167–89. Gaventa, B. R. (2003), The Acts of the Apostles, Abingdon New Testament Commentaries, Nashville: Abingdon. Goulder, M. D. (1964), Type and History in Acts, London: SPCK. Haenchen, E. (1971), The Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary, trans. Hugh Anderson, Philadelphia: Westminster Press.

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Hemer, C. J. (1989), The Book of Acts in the Setting of Hellenistic History, C. H. Gempf (ed.), Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 49; Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr. Hengel, M. with R. Deines (1991), The Pre-Christian Paul, trans. John Bowden, London: SCM Press. Johnson, L. T. (1992), The Acts of the Apostles, Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press. Keener, C. (2012–15), Acts: An Exegetical Commentary, 4 vols., Grand Rapids: Baker. Knox, J. (1950), Chapters in the Life of Paul, Nashville: Abingdon. Krauss, F. A. K. (1895), Im Kerker vor und nach Christus, Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr Siebeck. Le Cornu, H., and J. Shulam (2003), The Jewish Roots of Acts, 2 vols., Jerusalem: Academon. Lentz, J. C. (1993), Luke’s Portrayal of Paul, Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series 77, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lüdemann, G. (1989), Early Christianity According to the Traditions in Acts: A Commentary, Minneapolis: Fortress. McGiffert, A. C. (1897), A History of Christianity in the Apostolic Age, New York: C. Scribner’s Sons. Mendels, D. (2013), Why Did Paul go West? Jewish Historical Narrative and Thought. Jewish and Christian Texts, London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark. Meyer, E. (1923), Ursprung und Anfänge des Christentums, 3 vols., Stuttgart and Berlin: Cotta. Millar, F. (1981), “The World of the Golden Ass,” Journal of Roman Studies 71: 63–75. Murphy-O’Connor, J. (1997), Paul: A Critical Life, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Neusner, J. (1994), Introduction to Rabbinic Literature, New York, London: Doubleday. Nock, A. D. (1972), “Isopoliteia and the Jews,” in Z. Stewart (ed.), Essay on Religion and the Ancient World, 2, 960–62, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Pervo, R. I. (2009), Acts, Hermeneia, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Polybius ([1925] 1976), The Histories, trans. W. R. Paton. Loeb Classical Library, Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Porath, Yosef (2013), Caesarea Maritima, Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Ramsay, W. M. (1906), Pauline and Other Studies in Early Christian History, New York: Hodder and Stoughton. Rapske, B. (1994), The Book of Acts and Paul in Roman Custody, The Book of Acts in Its First Century Setting vol. 3, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Sabugal, S. (1991), “La Curación del ‘cojo de nacimiento’ por Pedro (Act 3,1-11): Análisis histórico-tradicional,” Revista Augustiana 32 (98): 595–613. Sandmel, S. ([1958] 1970), The Genius of Paul: A Study in History, New York: Schocken Books. Schweitzer, A. ([1906] 1953), The Mysticism of St. Paul the Apostle, 2nd. ed., London: Adam and Charles Black. Seager, R., and A. T. Kraabel (1983), “IX. The Synagogue and the Jewish Community,” in G. M. A. Hanfmann (ed.), Sardis from Prehistoric to Roman Times, 168–91 and 281–85, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Segal, A. (1990), Paul the Convert, New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Shires, H. M (1966), The Eschatology of Paul in the Light of Modern Scholarship, Philadelphia: Westminster Press. Smallwood, E. M. (1976), The Jews Under Roman Rule, Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity 29, Leiden: Brill.

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Stegemann, W. (1987), “War der Apostel Paulus ein römischer Bürger?,” Zeitschrift für die neustamentliche Wissenschaft 78 (3–4): 200–29. Talbert, C. H. (2005), Reading Acts, revised edition, Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys. Tannehill, R. C. (1990), The Acts of the Apostles: Vol. 2 of The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Thackeray, H. St. J. (1900), The Relation of St. Paul to Contemporary Jewish Thought, London: Macmillan. van Unnik, W. C (1979), “Luke’s Second Book and the Rules of Hellenistic Historiography,” in J. Kermer (ed.), Les Actes des Apôtres: Traditions, Rédaction, Théologie, 37–61, Paris, Gembloux: Duculot; Leuven: Leuven University Press. Whiteley, D. E. H. (1966), The Theology of St. Paul, Philadelphia: Fortress Press. Wilson, N. G. (1994), Photius: The Bibliotheca, London: Duckworth. Wright, N. T. (2013), Paul and the Faithfulness of God, Parts I and II, Minneapolis: Fortress Press.

Chapter 12 JEWISH SENSIBILITIES AND THE SEARCH FOR THE JEWISH PAUL—THE LUKAN PAUL VIEWED THROUGH JOSEPHEAN JUDAISM: INTERPLAY WITH APION 2:190–219 George P. Carras

Purpose In the Book of Acts Luke presents Paul as sharing common features of Jewish identity at various points with a catalogue of Josephus’s précis of the “precepts and prohibitions” of the Jewish law in Apion 2:190–219.1 This suggests that Luke presents Paul as a loyal Jew as depicted in categories of one dominant representative of diaspora Judaism. The essay will offer pointers to support the view that Luke has presented Paul as a loyal Jew by casting him in ways descriptive of Jewish behavioral expectations and Torah parameters similar to those found in Josephus’s Apion. The Judaica expert, Geza Vermes, considers the summary as “one of the earliest and possibly the oldest, theological précis compiled by a contemporary of the New Testament writers.”2 If so, we have a summary requiring

1. This essay is an abbreviated and revised paper titled “Jewish Sensibilities and the Search for the Jewish Paul: Reception of the Lukan Paul, the Historical Paul of the Undisputed Letters and Josephus’ Apion,” prepared for the Enoch Seminar in Rome on June 2016 for the conference theme “The Early Reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew.” In this chapter we have omitted the Pauline letters discussion in its entirety and offer a revised treatment on the Lukan Paul and Josephus précis. The full text is available on my Washington and Lee University webpage/Bio/Selected Publications/Religion/Articles/Papers: https://www.wlu. edu/classics-department/faculty-and-staff/profile?ID=x3018—title “Jewish Sensibilities in Luke, Paul and Josephus.” For a recently edited volume on Paul as Jew and figure of STJ see Boccaccini and Segovia (2016: passim) as well as Sanders (2011: 51–73). 2. Vermes (1982: 301), n. 50. Vermes has not, however, offered any detailed reflection on the importance this section of Apion may have for understanding the NT material (apart from some passing comments on the ethical and religious character of the teaching of Jesus). In a similar vein, Sanders (1985: 357–72) suggests that the pattern of religion

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consideration for New Testament and Pauline reflection. The task of the overall argument will be to determine the context and in what form the ideas and motifs appear in Luke as he tells the story of Paul as Jew in Acts. Additionally, the pursuit will offer a casting of Paul the Jew by Luke in Acts and enquire to what extent the Acts portrayal of Jewish sensibilities is reflected within Josephus’s summary of his version of the Jewish Torah. This is one distinctive feature we seek to pursue in this essay.

Jewish Sensibilities—Josephus, Apion 2:190–219 The importance of Josephus’s Apion 2:190–219, as stated already, is that it is one of the few summaries on Jewish ideals and sensibilities and therefore relevant to our inquiry.3 The Judaism reflected in the Josephean précis include (1) God is portrayed as monotheistic in nature. He is in control of the world, the sole creator of the universe and its properties. He forbids idolatry, and expects worship by the practice of virtue in the observance of the Torah (2:190–193). (2) The temple is a symbol of Jewish identity (2:193). (3) The cultus, its existence, practices, and priestly role of authority, are perceived in actual use (2:193–198). (4) Prayer has a central place in the life of the cultic community (2:196). (5) Purity laws are to be observed (2:203, 205). (6) Jews are to behave toward each other in a prescribed manner, in particular, they must not steal, charge interest or bear false witness, but offer help to the needy and poor (2:207–208). (7) The Jewish religion is to be made accessible to non-Jews (2:209–210). (8) Hope of a future life is affirmed (2:217– 219). (9) Obedience and disobedience to the Law bring its own consequences (2:215–218). (10) The foundation of the above injunctions is Moses, the legislator of the Jewish constitution. Josephus presents a form of Judaism which shared ideals and sensibilities with a variety of Jewish testimony. One can itemize some of the points of common Judaism: separateness points to the view that Jews were God’s chosen people; they shared monotheism and this cut them off to an appreciable degree from other societies; Jewish standards of behavior, especially sexual behavior,

of Palestinian Judaism is also attested in Apion 2. However, he offers little assistance on how the Apion précis may permit a better understanding of the NT situation. What we are told (based on Apion 2) is that Judaism in the time of Jesus and Paul was a noble religion based on belief in God’s mercy and grace, which was intended to inculcate in its members virtuous action and consideration for others. 3. The other document is Philo’s Hypothetica preserved in Eusebius’s Praeparatio evangelica 8.7.20. See Carras (1993: 24–47). A third document though not a summary as such but contains some similar ideas is Pseudo-Phocylides Sentences. The use of these three documents together to create a picture of STJ goes back to Wendland (1896: 693–770). See also Barclay (2007: 353–61) on these three texts.

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distinguished them; most expected some form of life after death; community membership required obedience; the Torah was to be kept as an expression of covenantal membership.4

Argument Overview We began with a notion argued by E. P. Sanders’s Judaism: Belief and Practice, for the existence of a common Judaism. We presented Josephus’s resume in Apion 2:190–219 of Judaism—or more narrowly the “prescription and prohibitions of the Law” to non-Jews and Jews.5 We isolated five features from the passage for our purposes from a list of other examples of shared Jewish sensibilities. The themes in the Acts to be considered include Torah observance, primacy of the Jewish God, affirmation of future hope/resurrection, temple and regulations purity regulations, and the offer of the Jewish religion to non-Jews. There is a scholarly claim for the existence of a relationship between Luke and Josephus; this is well documented.6 However, no one had pursued the tenets and sensibilities of Apion 2.190ff. and Luke in the Pauline section of Acts in order to evaluate Paul’s Jewishness against a near contemporary of the late first century. We will compare this text with Luke’s portrayal of Paul as Jew in Acts 21–28, and determine the function and purpose from within his select span of Paul’s Jewishness. In our view, if shared Jewish ideals can be isolated from Josephus and documented within the argumentation of the Lukan Paul, this would offer evidence to legitimate Paul to the Jews of Luke’s day. Our approach uses Josephus as a “sounding” on Jewish sensibilities in the Lukan portrayal on Paul. Conversely, if themes in Apion 2:190ff. are replicated in the sections of Acts surrounding the Lukan Paul, then we have further attestations to the kind of Judaism presented in

4. See Carras (1990: passim). This Jewish summary concurs with a view of common Judaism as belief in one God, the choice of Israel as God’s special people, the giving of the law and the obligation to obey the law and its commands, maintaining a covenantal relationship and for God to save his people in the end. See Sanders (1977: 45–314). Other scholars who have pursued the notion of a common Judaism within STJ are McCready and Reinhartz (2008: 69–87, 153–74, 175–93). Udoh (2008: 69–87, 153–74, 175–93). 5. Carras (1990: 23–74; 1993: 24–47; (forthcoming)). Other scholarly contributors to the Josephean précis include Altshuler (1979: 226–32); Momigliano (1975: 2:765–84); Balch (1982: 102–22); Barclay (2007: 275–98); Haaland (1999: 282–304); Gerber (1999: 251–69; 1997: passim). 6. Scholarly comparisons between Luke and Josephus have been investigated by Plümacher (1972: 10, 25, 137); Schreckenberg (1980: 179–209); Sterling (1992: 365–89); Schreckenberg and Schubert (1982: 42–49). These scholars have not pursued a comparison of Apion 2:190–219 alongside Luke in Acts with our purpose in mind.

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Josephus’s Apion. Finally, this would add emphasis to the view of Paul as an insider within STJ of the period.7 As one means to legitimate Paul as an observant Jew, Brawley appeals to Hellenistic literary techniques. He maintains that “if Luke legitimates Paul both by portraying him as faithful to the hopes of Israel and by outfitting him with evidence of authenticity in Hellenistic literary terms, then we possess clues that inform us about the type of Judaism toward which Luke accommodates Paul and about the environment in which Luke writes” (1987: 51; cf. Wilson 1973). Brawley contends that Luke links Hellenistic legitimating devices and his defense of Paul as an authentic Jew. The treatment of these themes together raises the question of what kind of religion Luke envisions as authentic Judaism. Brawley suggests that for Luke Judaism is not culturally exclusive, maintains a belief in the general resurrection, and is open to intimate relationships with Gentiles. We suggest that these characteristics emerge from Apion 2:190ff. but the list could include other Jewish ideals as a means to legitimate Paul as an authentic Jew based on Apion 2:190ff. This is the second stage of the argument.

Jewish Sensibilities of the Lukan Paul (à la Apion 2)8 Most agree that Paul is Luke’s hero. He devotes over half of the story of the emergence of the early church in Acts to Paul and a quarter of the entire narrative of Acts to an apology for Paul as Jew. Beginning with 21:27 to the end of Acts, a defense of Paul is provided. The charges against and defense of Paul are stated throughout chapters 21–26. Paul is accused of profaning the temple while he is observing a Jewish purification ritual. Rumors emerged from Asian Jews that Paul is teaching against the Law, people, and the temple. In response, Luke seeks to demonstrate Paul’s fidelity and zeal for the law and loyalty to Judaism. The charges and refutations can be listed as follows:

21:21 Paul teaches the Jews of the diaspora apostasy from Moses that they should not circumcise their children, and do not need to live according to the customs of the fathers. 21:28 Paul teaches everywhere against the people, the Law, and the temple; brought Gentiles to undesignated areas of the temple area and defiled this holy place.

7. Our study is not a pursuit on the Paul in Acts and the Paul in the letters though it may indirectly contain some relevance to this theme. See Porter (1999: 187–206, esp. 199, 205–06); Pervo (2009: 141–55, esp. 142–43, 155); Oliver (2016: 51–80). For an alternative approach to Acts see among many Conzelmann (1987: passim). On Josephus’s Jewish sentiments in Acts and the Pauline letters, see my unpublished paper given in note 1. 8. Several details of the following discussion appear in Carras (1999: 693–708).

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25:8 Paul has neither sinned against the Law nor the temple. 24:5-6 Paul has tried to profane the temple. 23:29 The Roman version of the charge is stated that the problem concerns their [the Jews] laws. 28:17 Paul maintains in his refutation that he has nothing against the custom of the fathers and the people. The charges against Paul are that he has sinned against Israel and is guilty of forsaking the Law and temple. If these charges were true, Paul would be seriously at odds with distinguishing identity markers of Israel and permit the accusation that he is a false teacher in Israel. Luke refutes these charges in four apologetic speeches whereby the primary purpose is to defend Paul as Jew. The content of the speech material does not consist of missionary kerygma, calls for repentance, and scriptural proofs or appeals to eyewitnesses. Rather, Luke defends his hero first by claiming that Paul was and is a Pharisee, and a Jew faithful to the Law (22:3; 23:1, 3, 5, 6; 24:14; 26:4-5). Second, he teaches only what scripture says and believes everything that is written in the Law and the Prophets (24:14-15; 26:2223). A third defensive strategy used, although it does not appear as one of the charges against Paul, is that he adheres to the resurrection of the dead, a hope of Pharisaic Israel.9 Central to the charges and refutation is the connection between the people, the Law, and the temple.10 This interrelationship suggests Paul was perceived as challenging fundamentals of Judaism since the Law is a sign of Israel as the people of God, and the temple a supreme symbol of Jewish identity. It is suggested by Esler based on scholarship from sociological analysis that we know a great deal about how an ethnic group responds to living within a larger culture (1987: 146). The response ranges from total breakdown of the group’s boundaries resulting in complete assimilation, on the one hand, to a tight maintenance of the group’s separate identity, on the other. Esler maintains that among Diaspora Jews one would expect to find the latter. Furthermore, he states one finds among Diaspora Jews a strong devotion to the Law and the temple. A Jew such as Paul, who was perceived as teaching against the Law, the people, and the temple, would be a threat to Jewish identity and the social fabric of local Jewish communities, if found guilty. Whatever may have been other reasons for charges against Paul (e.g., taking a Gentile beyond legitimate boundaries of the temple, attitudes on Gentile law-keeping), temple and Law observance appear to be central and are critical in Luke’s defense. For our purposes, what is important is that these same features, the Law and temple, are the identity markers Luke appeals to in defense of Paul. In the trial before Festus (25:8) Paul states that he neither sinned against the Law or the temple.

9. Jervell (1996: 88); Haacker (1985: 437–51). The Jewish character of the refutation is also noted by Witherington (1998: 659–60); Schneider (1982: 305–06). 10. See on the law in the Lukan writings Salo (1991); Wilson (1983).

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It is also these two Jewish descriptors (Law and temple) which form a central place in the “Mosaic summary” in Apion 2:190ff. We find Torah-based ideals for Jews described by Josephus as what constitutes the “precepts and prohibitions” of Torah, and it is assumed throughout Apion 2 that Jews are to observe and accept the consequences for both obedience and disobedience. This “Mosaic legislation” does not consist simply of a list of biblical laws, but rather is a “‘carefully structured exposition’ on God, man’s relationship to God, and to his fellow creatures” (Vermes 1982: 289). The Josephean law summary is followed by two appendices: one on punishment awaiting transgressors of the Law, and the other on rewards of the future life awaiting faithful observers of Torah. Throughout the summary are a variety of Jewish ideals, many of which relate to biblical prescriptions and, as we have suggested, many reflect common Judaism. Regardless of whether some of the ideals are formulated more philosophically, for example, the partition of the soul (2:203), the central place of Torah observance is unmistakable.11 Because the statements are given in a summary format, the lack of explanation may imply the contents are assumed to be central Jewish ideals, sensibilities, at least of Josephus’s perception of diaspora Jewry if not Judaism more broadly. A second descriptor used by Luke in defense of Paul, the temple, illustrates another common Jewish symbol, which also takes an important place in the Lukan account. When Paul defends himself to Felix, he cites his coming to the temple to bring alms and offering for the Jewish nation. He argues he had not gone to Jerusalem to profane the temple but to worship God, and the God he was to worship was the God of “our fathers,” the God of Israel. Luke also located Paul in the temple after he had undergone purification. Therefore, where we find Paul is significant as an instrument to defend him against profaning the temple, Luke places Paul in direct association with a central institution of Judaism, the temple. The temple (Apion 2:190–193) also plays a central role as a marker of Jewish identity in Josephus’s summary. This is the second topic he considers following his summary on God. Josephus’s rationale is that since there is one God and one community, there is one temple. From this basic premise a sketch is given of the (1) duties of priests; (2) practices to be observed at sacrifices; (3) occasions for purity regulations. It is striking in a work written at the end of the first century that the sanctuary and sacrifices are represented as a present reality. The temple which held these entities was destroyed some thirty years before. Several explanations are possible: the expectation of a quick restoration of the Jerusalem temple, the portrayal is seen as a depiction of a utopian world in which the destruction of the temple never occurred, or its inclusion reflects the central place of the temple as a marker of Jewish identity (Neusner 1976: 273–75). In addition to the Law and temple (recognized symbols of Jewish identity), Luke includes the affirmation of the resurrection of the just and unjust (24:15) in

11. Even this Platonic ring of “partition of soul” may have its roots in Essene anthropology. So Josephus, War 2:154–155. Alternatively, Greek influence is held by Schreckenberg (1977: 167–68).

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his defense of Paul as a loyal Jew. This idea is considered a common distinguishing feature of Judaism by most Jews in antiquity. Josephus’s formulation is belief in “renewed existence” (Apion 2:218–219), which, although terminologically different, is compatible with the concept of future hope as expressed in the War (3:374; 7:344–350) and Ant. (18:14). The inclusion of the resurrection of the dead in Luke’s defense is a further indication of legitimating Paul as a loyal Jew by appeal to common ideals, sensibilities in Judaism laid down in Josephus’s Mosaic constitution. Along with the temple, Torah observance, and hope in a future resurrection, there are several other items found in Apion 2 that share in Luke’s defense of Paul in Acts. In Paul’s curriculum vitae as a loyal Jew, Luke places on the lips of Paul the affirmation of “zeal for God” (Acts 22:3). This zeal for God was to be expressed in meticulous observance of the Law. In affirming zeal for God, Paul is identifying himself with one of the most fundamental features of the Jewish religion (Hengel 1976: 182, 187–88). The point has been made by some scholars that zeal for God is even more fundamental than zeal for God’s Law (Farmer 1956: 49). Apion 2:190 begins, as we noted, its summary of Torah with the affirmation of God. God is presented as the sole agent in creation and the one for whom any form of idolatry is prohibited. God is to be worshiped, and the form it should take is by the practice of virtue. God also controls and directs history. The idea of God’s providence is tied to the doctrine of creation. As creator of the universe, God cares, governs, and sustains it. While the idea of God as one who directs history is assumed in various accounts of Paul’s defense (26:6—Paul is on trial because of the hope in the promises made by God), the point is reiterated in the speech at Pisidia, Antioch, in Acts 13:16ff., which gives a historical recital of God’s great acts in history. God directs and brings on the stage of human history the likes of figures such as David, Samuel, and Jesus, according to the divine plan (Dumais 1976). Similarly, Luke conceives of God as the one who has fixed the time of judgment (Acts 17:30-31). While different aspects of the divine are reflected, we can assume that the monotheistic nature of God is intended by both Luke and Josephus. This is certainly the case for Luke who often makes reference to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This is also the case with Josephus who states that cult is based on the principal of unity. There is a sense of divine necessity, almost destiny, in the actions of God to the church but also more broadly: God is the sovereign lord over the world.12 Another indicator of shared ideals recorded in Luke’s defense of Paul and the summary of Jewish virtues by Josephus is the observance of purity regulations set in relation to the temple. When we consider Josephus’s Apion summary of virtues, we know that purity regulations were to be observed since he provides three examples. In particular, Josephus states in the following way: “In view of the sacrifices the law has prescribed the purifications for various occasions: after a

12. On God in Luke-Acts, see Vinson (2014: 376–88). On the providence of God in Paul and Josephus, see Sanders (2007: 78–97).

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funeral, after childbirth, after conjugal union and for many others” (2:198). These purity laws are found in Leviticus 12 (childbirth), Leviticus 15 (emissions from the body), and Numbers 19 (death). People who were affected by these “changes of status”—life, death, and reproduction were to stay away from the sacred (temple) (Sanders 1992: 70–72, 217–19). If we consider the specific purity regulations relative to Paul, details are absent. What we do find is the Lukan Paul presented as a Jew observing legal custom. In Paul’s defense to Felix (24:18), Luke accounts an incident that he appeals to when Paul arrived in Jerusalem (21:21ff.). On the advice of James, Paul was recommended to take a vow to curb rumors that he was against the people, the Law, and the temple. Four men were under a Nazirite vow since they had shaved their heads. At the conclusion of the vow an offering of sacrifice would be given at the temple. The proposal was that Paul should pay the expenses of the sacrifice. Furthermore, Paul was to undergo purification with the men, accompany them in the temple and record the time when the purification was complete and the sacrifices made. Difficulties surrounding this incident are well known (Tyson 1992: 158–68).The point that can be noted for our purpose is that purification regulations were a sign of loyalty in Judaism. Luke associates Paul with legal regulations relative to temple access.13 Restriction of Gentile’s association to the temple is a topic closely related to purification regulations. While the charge that Paul brought a Gentile to the temple area is denied by Luke, he shows knowledge of the legal regulations regarding this injunction. The denial enables Luke to indicate the implausibility that Paul would engage in such an activity when his purpose for coming to the temple was for prayer, worship, sacrifice to God, and giving alms to his fellow Jews. It would have been incredible for a person engaged in religious duty (alms, offering sacrifice) to desecrate the Jerusalem temple at the same time. We can now add one final example to illustrate the shared ideals in Luke’s defense and the Apion 2 summary. The Jewish religion was not to be kept a private possession of Jews and remain inaccessible to others. This even goes back to Abraham in Gen. 12:1ff. In Apion, 2:10 we read, “To all who desire to come and live under the same laws with us, he gives a gracious welcome.” The one restriction is that causal visitors, considered by some to be God-fearers (Troiani 1977: 192; Balch 1982: 119), should not be permitted to know the intimate details of daily religious practice. This suggests that the offer to non-Jews of membership into the people of God reflects a common Jewish notion and one that was adopted by the early Christians. Beginning with the infancy narrative in the Gospel of Luke to the end of Acts, Gentile entry to the people of God forms part of the kerygma of the early Christian preachers. It is also a notion included at several points in Paul’s defense when he tells how and to whom God called him (22:15; 26:17-18).

13. For a detailed discussion on the significance in Acts of Paul’s final visit to the temple as it relates to Torah observance, including a discussion about the Nazirite vow, see in this same volume D. Rudolph’s “Luke’s Portrait of Paul in Acts 21:17-26.”

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Several of the features of shared sensibilities of Judaism documented in Apion are appealed to by Luke to legitimate Paul as a loyal Jew of the diaspora. The suggestion being made is not that Luke borrowed from Josephus but that they shared common Jewish sensibilities. To whatever extent material in the speeches of Acts are Lukan redaction, the scenes are used to portray Paul as a loyal Jew by associating him with Jewish ideals, symbols, and sensibilities of Jewish self-reference by some Jews, at least those to whom Josephus projected to be his audience in Rome. The legitimation of Paul as a loyal Jew is affirmed by appealing to practices of the temple, Torah observances, affirmation of the future hope, belief in the primacy of the Jewish God, regulation of purity, and openness to the Jewish religion to non-Jews. The fact that both the Lukan writings and Josephus’s Apion were thought to be written within a similar time frame, that is, the latter portion of the first century (Luke in the 80–90s or by some scholars later, and Apion, c. 100) adds to the point being made that Apion and Luke in Acts fall in a similar time frame, the latter portion of the first century. Regardless, the arguments thus far are clear enough—the summary of Torah found in Josephus’s Apion includes features of Jewish sensibilities found in Acts and appealed to in presenting Paul as a loyal Jew. This suggests that Paul as Luke has portrayed him could be viewed as an insider within diaspora Judaism if viewed from the prism of a Josephean summary on Torah’s prescriptions and prohibitions. This is another piece of the argument.

Conclusions—Lukan Paul and Josephean Summary Given the above discussion, we can now derive some summary notions on the Lukan reception of Paul based on the categories derived from Josephus’s summary on Torah in Against Apion 2. In Luke, we noted several features concerning God including divine action and agency over history (Acts 13:16-41) as well as God’s foreknowledge of the time of judgment (Acts 17:31). But many other aspects could be mentioned from Luke in Acts: Paul’s epiphany encounter with God, (9:1-19), God’s action through a vision to Ananias on behalf of Paul (9:10-19), God’s encounter with Cornelius, the God-fearer (10:1-33), God attributed with bringing to Israel a savior (13:16-25), and that God is not a respecter of persons (15:6-21). In addition, the Lukan Paul while on trial claims: “I stand here on trial because of my hope in the promise made by God to our fathers . . .” (Acts 26:6). In the context of Luke on Paul, the divine attribution is used when explaining the gospel message in Acts;14 in Josephus’s summary the character of the Jewish God is part of the depiction of Torah stipulations. On Torah observance, we noted that the Lukan record has Paul taking a Nazirite vow to curb rumors that he was against the Law (Acts 21:21-26). This is one cameo

14. In Acts chs. 9, 13–28, twenty-two episodes exist where God is the agent of action (chs. 9–16, 17, 19, 21–24, 26, 28); God’s action in the Lukan Pauline record is a dominant motif.

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of Paul heeding this instruction and observance of Torah. On another occasion during a trial scene, the Lukan Paul states he had done nothing wrong against the Law and the temple as well (Acts 25:7-8). On a third occasion, we find Paul having Timothy of Greek and Jewish ancestry circumcised (Acts 16:1-2) in anticipation of going on a mission to include Jews. Finally, at the end of Acts 28:17, addressing the local Jewish leaders in Rome, Luke adds that Paul has done nothing against the ancestral customs. So the Lukan portrayal of Paul presents him as without guilt. Therefore, the record of the Lukan Paul seems to speak in a similar vein though very different points are made largely due to differing speech and narrative types and contexts. On future hope, in Luke, Paul echoes in a trial scene addressing the Sanhedrin that he is on trial for the hope of Israel, the resurrection of the dead (Acts 23:6), and the idea is restated as the resurrection of the just and unjust (Acts 24:15). On non-Jewish access to the commonwealth of Israel in Josephus and Luke, we found a shared sentiment which is iterated in Acts on the lips of the Lukan Paul (Acts 9:15; 22:21; 26:23). Finally, the temple and its institutions play a central role in the Josephean summary and Acts in relation to the Nazirite scene of Paul.

Implications for Pauline Jewishness We conclude with the following implications: the points sketched above taken together add force to the view that Luke reflects a sharing of Jewish sensibilities known and found within Josephus’s Second Temple Jewish world. The Lukan Paul as a Second Temple Jew is placed within the timeframe of the late first century when Josephus is known to have written his summary of Torah. The reflections of Second Temple Judaism from Josephus are collaborated by Luke in Acts. In fact, Luke may have been a Hellenistic Jew prior to his following of the Jesus way, adding to the significance of reflecting on Acts from the perspective of another Hellenistic Jew, Josephus. In any case, the above conclusions demonstrate the Jewish sensibilities of the Lukan Paul and his overlap with one proponent of Second Temple Judaism, Flavius Josephus. These claims place the Lukan Paul within Second Temple Judaism when viewed within the context of the Josephus précis.

References Altshuler, D. (1979), “The Treatise of Flavius Josephus,” Jewish Quarterly Review 6: 226–32. Balch, D. L. (1982), “Two Apologetic Encomia:Dionysius of Rome and Josephus on the Jews,” Journal for the Study of Judaism 13: 102–22. Barclay, J. M. G. (2007), Flavius Josephus: Against Apion – Translation and Commentary, vol. 10, Leiden: Brill. Boccaccini, G., and C. A. Segovia, eds (2016), Paul the Jew: Rereading the Apostle as a Figure of Second Temple Judaism, Minneapolis: Fortress.

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Brawley, R. L. (1987), Luke-Acts and the Jews: Conflict, Apology and Conciliation, Society of Biblical Literature Monograph Series 33, Atlanta: Scholars Press. Carras, G. P. (1990), “Paul, Josephus and Judaism: the shared Judaism of Paul and Josephus,” D.Phil. unpublished diss., University of Oxford. Available online: http://ora. ox.ac.uk/objects/uuid:32399280-d6af-4d1f-9fa9-13aeaeba6838 (2012). Carras G. P. (1993), “Dependence, Paraphrase or Common Tradition in Philo’s Hypothetica and Josephus’ Contra Apionem,” Studia Philonica Annual 5: 24–47. Carras, G. P. (1999), “Observant Jews in the Story of Luke and Acts: Paul, Jesus and Other Jews,” in J. Verheyden (ed.), The Unity of Luke-Acts, 693–708, Leuven: Leuven University Press. Carras, G. P. (N. D.), Josephus and Paul: Two Diaspora Jews, Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity, Leiden: Brill, forthcoming. Conzelmann, H. (1987), Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, Philadelphia: Fortress. Dumais, M. (1976), Le langage de l’évangélisation: L’annonce missionnaire en milieu juif (Actes 13,16.41), Tournai: Desclée. Esler, P. (1987), Community and Gospel in Luke-Acts: The Social and Political Motivations of Lucan Theology, Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series 57, Cambridge: University Press. Farmer, W. R. (1956), Maccabees, Zealots and Josephus: An Inquiry Into Jewish Nationalism in the Greco-Roman Period, New York: Columbia University Press. Gerber, C. (1997), Ein Bild des Judentums für Nichtjuden von Flavius Josephus: Untersuchungen zu seiner Schrift, Contra Apionem, Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums 40, Leiden: Brill. Gerber, C. (1999), “Des Josephus Apologie für das Judentum: Prolegomena zu einer Interpretation von 2 2:145ff,” in J. U. Kalms and F. Siegert (eds.), Internationales Josephus-Kolloquium Brüssel 1998, 251–69, Munster: LIT. Haaland, G. (1999), “Jewish Laws for a Roman Audience: Toward an Understanding of Contra Apionem,” in J. U. Kalms and F. Siegert (eds.), Internationales JosephusKolloquium Brüssel 1998, 282–304, Munster: LIT. Haacker, K. (1985), “Das Bekenntnis des Paulus zur Hoffnung Israels nach des Apostel geschichte des Lukas,” New Testament Studies 31: 437–51. Hengel, M. (1976), Die Zeloten, Untersuchungen zur Jüdischen Freiheitsbewegung in der Zeit von Herodes I. bis 70 n. Chr, Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums 1, Leiden: Brill. Jervell, J. (1996), The Theology of the Acts of the Apostles, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McCready, W. O., and A. Reinhartz, eds (2008), Common Judaism: Explorations in Second Temple Judaism, Minneapolis: Fortress. Momigliano, A. (1975), “Intorno al ‘Contro Apione,’ ” in Quinto contributo alla Storia degli Studi classi dei mondo antio, vol. 2: 765–84, Roma: Edizioni di storia e letteratura. Neusner, J. (1976), A History of the Mishnaic Law VI, Leiden: Brill. Oliver, I. W. (2016), “The ‘Historical Paul’ and the Paul of Acts: Which is More Jewish?,” in G. Boccaccini and C. A. Segovia (eds.), Paul the Jew: Rereading the Apostle as a Figure of Second Temple Judaism, 51–80, Minneapolis: Fortress. Pervo, R. I. (2009), “The Paul of Acts and The Paul of the Letters: Aspects of Luke as Interpreter of the Corpus Paulinum,” in D. Marguerat (ed.)¸Reception of Paulinism in Acts: Réception du Paulinisme dans les Actes des Apôtres, 141–55, Leuven: Peeters.

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Plümacher, E. (1972), Lukas als hellenistischer Schriftstellar: Studien zur Apostelgeschriften, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Porter, S. E. (1999), The Paul of Acts: Essays in Literary Criticism, Rhetoric, and Theology, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Salo, K. (1991), Luke’s Treatment of the Law: A Redaction-Critical Investigation, Helsinki: Suomalaien Tiedeakatemia. Sanders, E. P. (1985), “Judaism and the Grand Christian Abstractions: Love, Mercy and Grace,” Interpretation 39: 35–72. Sanders, E. P. (1977), Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion, Philadelphia: Fortress Press. Sanders, E. P. (1992), Judaism: Practice and Belief 63 BCE – 66 CE, Philadelphia: Trinity Press International. Sanders, E. P. (2007), “God Gave the Law to Condemn: Providence in Paul and Josephus,” in C. J. Roetzel and R. L. Foster (eds.), The Impartial God: Essays in Biblical Studies in Honor of Jouette M. Bassler, 78–97, Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press. Sanders, E. P. (2011), “Paul’s Jewishness,” in T. G. Casey and J. Taylor (eds.), Paul’s Jewish Matrix, 51–73, Rome: GBP. Schneider, G. (1982), Die Apostelgeschichte II. Teil: Kommentarzu Kap. 9,1-28, 31, Herders theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament, Freiburg: Herder. Schreckenberg, H. (1977), Rezeptiongeschichtliche und textkritische Untersuchungen zu Flavius Josephus, Leiden: Brill. Schreckenberg, H. (1980), “Flavius Josephus und die lukanischen Schriften,” in W. Haubeck and M. Bachman (eds.), Wort in der Zeit, FS Rengstorf, K.H., 179–209, Leiden: Brill. Schreckenberg, H., and K. Schubert (1982), Jewish Historiography and Iconography in Early and Medieval Christianity, Leiden: Brill. Sterling, G. E. (1992), Historiography and Self-Definition: Josephos, Luke-Acts and Apologetic Historiography, Leiden: Brill. Troiani, L. (1977), Commento Storico al ‘Contro Apione’ di Giuseppe: introduzione commento storico, traduzione e indici, Pisa: Giardini. Tyson, J. B. (1992), Images of Judaism in Luke-Acts, Columbia: Columbia University Press. Udoh, F. E., ed (2008), Redefining First Century Jewish and Christian Identities: Essays in Honor of Ed Parish Sanders (Part Two: Judaism), Notre Dame: Notre Dame Press. Vermes, G. (1982), “A Summary of the Law by Flavius Josephus,” Novum Testamentum 23: 289–303. Vinson, R. B. (2014), “The God of Luke-Acts,” Interpretation 68: 376–88. Wendland, P. (1896), “Die Therapeuten und die philoonische Shift von beschaulichen Leben,” Jahrbücher für classiche Philosophie 22: 693–770. Wilson, S. (1973), The Gentiles and the Gentile Mission in Luke-Acts, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Witherington, B. (1998), The Acts of the Apostles, A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans.

Chapter 13 THE CALLING OF PAUL IN THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES Isaac W. Oliver

Long ago, the late Krister Stendahl challenged the conventional view that Paul had “converted” to Christianity when he joined the Jesus movement. Paul was not a Jewish apostate who forsook his Jewish identity when he became a believer in Jesus. In fact, Stendahl rejected the suitability of the concept of conversion tout court for describing Paul’s spiritual journey. The zealous Pharisee had not undergone a conversion in the traditional Western understanding of the term. He did not wrestle with the psychological pangs of his inner conscience nor feel guilty about succumbing to the proclivities of the human flesh. Paul had a robust conscience. When he joined the Jesus movement he had previously persecuted, he viewed this new phase in his life as a calling akin to the prophetic elections of Moses and Jeremiah. Paul viewed himself as the apostle to the Gentiles, Christ’s envoy or spokesperson, not a Jewish convert to “Christianity,” a term that in any case was nonexistent during Paul’s time (Stendahl 1976). Experts in Pauline studies know how Stendahl impressively anticipated what would become known as the “New Perspective on Paul,” once E. P. Sanders published his seminal work, Paul and Palestinian Judaism (1977). The “New Perspective on Paul,” a term popularized by James D. G. Dunn (1983), claims that first-century Judaism was not a merit-based religion but firmly founded on a covenantal notion of “grace.” Pauline studies shifted, accordingly, from focusing on the issue of “justification by faith vs. works,” as it was traditionally treated in ProtestantCatholic debates, to appreciating Paul’s solution for including Gentiles along with Jews in God’s salvific plan and blessings. Stendahl has proven equally influential among adherents of the so-called Radical New Perspective. Briefly put, the Radical New Perspective interprets Paul as remaining a Torah-abiding Jew throughout his life, even after joining the Jesus movement. Some of the radical new interpreters of Paul blame the Acts of the Apostles for promoting the traditional image of Paul as a Christian who forsook his Torah-observant lifestyle. My goal here is not so much to address the “historical Paul’s” relation to Judaism as much as to appreciate the reception of Paul’s Jewishness in Acts. More precisely, I will assess the depiction of Paul’s transition from zealous persecutor to fervent supporter of the ekklesia

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in the three instances where Acts reports Paul’s exceptional encounter with the resurrected Christ on the road to Damascus. I contend that the usage of the term “conversion” is unfitting for appreciating how the book of Acts envisions the processes that led Paul to join the Jesus movement, particularly if we mean that Acts casts Paul as a former Jew and sinner in order to portray him as a role model for a Gentile readership.

Radical Classic Views on Paul’s “Conversion” in Acts Before reexamining Acts, I would like to discuss two perspectives on the Paul of Acts that originate from very different premises but converge nevertheless in remarkably similar ways. The first viewpoint stems not from specialists in Luke-Acts proper but from certain scholars who belong to the Radical New Perspective on Paul. As noted earlier, one of the distinctive tenets of the Radical New Perspective is its bold assertion that Paul remained Jewish through his faithful observance of the Torah. Jewishness is usually related by the proponents of the Radical Perspective according to Sanders’s influential notion of “covenantal nomism”: “the view that one’s place in God’s plan is established on the basis of the covenant and that the covenant requires as the proper response of man his obedience to its commandments, while providing means of atonement for transgression” (1977: 75). Sanders thought that most Second Temple Jews deemed covenantal fidelity, which is expressed through Torah observance, as essential to their Jewish identity. Radical interpreters of Paul, who accept Sanders’s understanding of Second Temple Judaism, assume, therefore, that Paul had to remain Torah observant in order to continue being Jewish. Some even maintain that Paul preached “two ways to salvation,” two covenants as it were, one for the Jews stipulated in the Torah, the other for the Gentiles made possible through Jesus (Gager 2002: 59–61). Jews do not need Jesus, at least not in the same way as Gentiles do, for they are not sinful idolators alienated from the God of Israel. Through Jesus, the Gentiles join (but do not replace) Israel in worshiping God and partaking in Israel’s blessings.1 Paul, as the apostle to the Gentiles, was convinced that the time was now ripe for non-Jews to associate with Israel. If Paul did not think that the covenant made at Sinai was abrogated nor even mount a critique against the Torah, he should not be blamed for the Christian supersessionism that ensued after his time. Another culprit must be found. For some radical interpreters of Paul, the culprit is none other than the author of Acts even though Stendahl himself claimed that Acts depicted Paul’s transitional journey as a calling rather than a conversion (1976: 7–11). For one of the most prominent proponents of the Radical New Perspective, John Gager, the verdict on Acts on this matter is guilty. In his latest book, Who

1. For a nice summary of the Radical New Perspective including a discussion on the two ways to salvation, see Segovia (2013: xiv–xxiv; 157).

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Made Early Christianity?, Gager indicts Acts for participating in the creation of the traditional view of Paul as the founder of Christianity.2 “Saul becomes Paul” and turns into a Christian believer (2015: 89). Similarly, in Acts Peter “undergoes his own conversion (Chapter 10), as a result of which he abandons the laws of kashrut and becomes a Christian” (2015: 89). In fact, after the report on the Antioch crisis in Acts 15, “all traces of believers who insisted on observance of the Mosaic Law” vanish from the story of Acts (2015: 90). The aim of Acts thereafter is to have Paul reach Rome. Paul, the convert to Christianity, has forsaken Jerusalem and pitched his tent permanently in Rome, the alleged “new holy city” in the sacred geographical scheme of Acts. In this way, “Luke’s version of sacred history and the birth of Christianity” contributed to the crystallization of “Christian anti-Judaism and turned Paul into its primary spokesman” (2015: 90). According to Gager, the version of the birth of Christianity reported in Acts is but a counternarrative to an earlier and radically different story about Christian origins without which Acts makes little sense. The alternative version on Christian origins stemmed from “Jewish Christians” who worshiped Jesus as the messiah and kept at least some of the Mosaic laws. These Jewish followers of Jesus boast deep roots in the New Testament itself. They are alluded to in the book of Acts as those who wanted to enforce circumcision on Gentile followers of Jesus (15:1). These Jewish followers of Jesus are the ones the writer of Acts effaces from the literary scene after Chapter 15, wishing thereby to imply that they had essentially vanished from history by the end of the first century (2015: 98, 103, and 104). Further information about these Jewish disciples can nevertheless be gleaned from the Gospel of Matthew, notably, 5:17-20, which casts Jesus as a “halakhic hardliner” condemning anyone who neglects the observance of the Mosaic Torah, even its smallest stipulations. Here, Gager supposes that Matthew is most likely attacking “Luke, the author of Acts” (2015: 93). Gager finds additional traces of “Jewish Christians” in another New Testament work, the Revelation of John, a Jewish text, which, unlike Matthew, Gager admits was written against Paul and his followers (rather than against Luke). Looking beyond the New Testament, Gager turns to Justin Martyr’s Dialogue with Trypho, particularly, chapters 46 and 47, to argue that Justin Martyr—in contrast to the author of Acts—tolerated Jewish followers of Jesus who were Torah observant (2015: 99). Finally, Gager looks at the Pseudo-Clementines and the supposed Jewish-Christian materials preserved by the Muslim author Abd al-Jabbar. For Gager, Clementines too responds to the New Testament book of Acts by portraying Peter as a Torah-observant Jew (2015: 102). It is unfortunate that Gager does not interact with the many scholars, some Jewish, who have argued for a far different understanding of the complex relationship between Luke-Acts and early Judaism.3 Gager’s views on Luke-Acts

2. Gager makes similar claims in previous publications (2002: 70; 2007: 367–68), which I have critiqued elsewhere (Oliver 2013: 26–29; 2016: 55–57). 3. Jacob Jervell must be credited for his bold, pioneering work that claimed LukeActs as a “Jewish-Christian” text (1972; 1996). Other scholars granting in various ways a

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depend in part on Lloyd Gaston, another radical interpreter of Paul.4 More to the point, one wonders how the Paul of Acts can be regarded as a former Jew who has repudiated Judaism given the pains the author of Acts takes to emphasize that Paul did nothing against the Torah. We see this at play in passages that appear especially after Acts chapter 15 (16:3 [!]; 17:1, 10, 17; 18:4, 19, 26; 19:8; 20:16; 21:24; 27:9). And even when Paul finally reaches Rome, the capital of the West, his heart still lies in the East, in Jerusalem, for the first thing he does upon his arrival in the Roman city is to signal to a Jewish delegation the reason for his arrest, eager to testify his allegiance to Torah, the Jewish people, and Jerusalem: “I myself, brothers, having done nothing against our people or our ancestral customs have been delivered in chains from Jerusalem into the hands of the Romans. . . . I have no charge to bring against my nation . . . . I am surrounded in these chains on account of my hope for Israel” (28:18-20; emphasis added).5 As for Peter’s supposed apostasy from the Torah, I have argued elsewhere quite extensively that Acts Chapters 10 and 11 do not state that Peter ate non-kosher food in the house of Cornelius, despite the numerous occasions afforded by the text of Acts to make this claim (Oliver 2013: 320–63). The point of Peter’s adamant refusal to eat non-kosher food turns our attention elsewhere, namely, to the status of Gentile followers of Jesus. In the two instances when Peter reports back to Jerusalem (11:1-18; 15:7-9), he only admits that he ate with Cornelius, a pious God-fearing Gentile, let us not forget, who could surely have served him a dish or two other than bacon with cheese. In any case, there is no way to read Acts coherently, if it contends that Torah observance has been abrogated. For it is nonsensical to hold a “Jerusalem Council” or promulgate an “Apostolic Decree” exempting Gentile Christians from circumcision, if Jewish followers of Jesus such as Paul and Peter have already been exempted from the Torah. And it certainly makes little sense for Paul to circumcise Timothy and repeatedly claim his allegiance to his ancestral Jewish customs, if Paul the zealous Jew has become Paul the lawless convert. Indeed, it seems that Acts is seeking precisely to refute allegations floating after 70 CE that Paul had taught Jews no longer to circumcise their children and abandon the Torah (Acts 21:21). In the narrative world of Acts, these allegations are brought to the reader’s attention by none other than James—the “Jewish Christian” par excellence. They appear in Acts 21—which reminds us that Jewish followers of Jesus have not disappeared from the literary scene since Acts 15. In fact, here in Acts 21 one learns for the first time that there are tens of thousands of Jewish disciples of Jesus all zealous for the Torah (Acts 21:20)! Their presence and zeal are sufficient to make Paul comply immediately with James’s request to demonstrate publicly his allegiance to the Torah. Far from constituting a counternarrative

more Jewish profile to Luke-Acts include: Salmon (1988); Tiede (1988); Klinghardt (1988); Loader (1997); Le Cornu with Shulam (2003); Kinzer (2005); Strelan (2008); Thiessen (2011); Pickett (2011); and McWhirter (2014). 4. Gager (2015: 169 n. 3), citing Gaston (1986: 151). 5. All translations of the primary sources are by the author unless otherwise noted.

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against “Jewish Christians,” Acts considers to a certain degree their concerns by casting Paul as a Torah-observant Jew. The accommodation in Acts to “JewishChristian” interests would suggest that Jewish followers of Jesus were alive and well toward the end of the first century. The seminal Lukan scholar, Jacob Jervell, referred to these Jewish followers of Jesus living after 70 CE as a “mighty minority” (1980). The evidence from Matthew and Luke-Acts, two texts written after 70 CE, seem to confirm this thesis. In their respective ways, they carve out a space for Torah observance among Jesus’s followers. The dichotomy perpetuated since patristic days depicting Matthew as the “Hebrew” gospel and Luke as the “Gentile Christian” does not stand firmly on its feet. Pamela Eisenbaum, another radical interpreter of Paul, refers briefly to the depiction in Acts of Paul’s journey to Damascus, claiming that Acts played an integral role in forming the traditional image of Paul as a model Christian convert, a persecutor now persecuted, a sinner of sinners turned into a saint. Paul’s “conversion” is central to the Lukan portrait, as Eisenbaum notes, appearing no less than three times: first in Chapter 9, and twice in Paul’s speeches in Acts 22:316 and 26:9-18 before “accusing Jews,” which Acts does not avoid stereotyping elsewhere in its narrative (2009: 41–43). It remains unclear how these observations prove that Paul is portrayed in Acts as a model Christian convert. Paul himself admitted that he persecuted the ekklesia, and Acts appends no other list of sins to his previous conduct (more on this below). Lukan polemics against Jews aside, only the first speech by Paul is, technically speaking, delivered before “accusing Jews” in Jerusalem, whom Paul nonetheless addresses in Hebrew while boasting about his Jewish background: he is a Jew raised in Jerusalem who sat at the very feet of Gamaliel, educated strictly about Jewish law, and zealous for God (22:2-3). Speech two is addressed primarily to the Jewish king Agrippa who listens out of curiosity—rather than animosity— and concludes that Paul is innocent. Indeed, Paul delights to speak before Agrippa because the Herodian king is a Jew like himself who is familiar with Jewish matters and their subtleties (Acts 26:3). Paul, therefore, speaks as a Jew to another fellow Jew about his encounter with the risen Jesus on the road to Damascus and adapts his message accordingly. In the narration of Acts, the story about Paul’s “conversion” is never addressed directly to Gentiles. It seems rather, as we shall see, to have been adapted to suit Jewish concerns. This observation alone should question whether the writer of Acts has converted Paul into a “model Christian convert,” particularly if he was targeting a Gentile readership. In any case, Eisenbaum’s and Gager’s views on Paul align well with a generally held position by Lukan scholars who see Acts as a Gentile Christian text that is indifferent to Judaism, at best, striving to link Christianity only with its Jewish past, a heritage the writer of Acts even occasionally misunderstands, since he was a Gentile Christian or former God-fearer without sufficient expertise to describe Jewish tradition accurately. Contemporary Jews, even Jewish followers of Jesus, are of little concern for this author who even considered Jews to be enemies. For Luke, the rift between Judaism and Christianity is a fait accompli. Working broadly according to these assumptions, Richard Pervo declares that “among the most

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edifying, if least historically defensible, elements of the post-Pauline construct is the portrayal of ‘the pre-Christian Paul’ as a vicious sinner, the veritable enemy of the people of God, and, more or less, as a gentile” (2010: 14). For Pervo, 1 Tim. 1:12-17 best exemplifies this tendency to construct Paul as a gentile convert. In 1 Timothy, the “pre-Christian Paul” speaks of himself as a “persecutor,” “blasphemer,” “violent person,” and “foremost of sinners,” behavioral traits that would not correspond to Paul’s own view of his career. 1 Timothy also includes the theme of “ignorance” (1:13), which “serves to explain, if not to excuse, gentile behavior” (Pervo 2010: 15). Pervo claims that this same theme of Gentile ignorance can also be found in Acts 3:17; 17:30, and Eph. 4:18. Thus, in the Pastorals, Paul represents the prototypical sinner and model for conversion for a Gentile readership. These observations apply equally to Acts, in Pervo’s estimation, where the “conversion” of Paul represents the transformation of a “Gentile, polytheistic sinner” into an ideal Christian: The quite assuredly pre-Lucan legend of “The Conversion of Paul” (Acts 9) includes this remarkable phrase: “Who are you, Lord?” (v. 5). Such a question belongs to a polytheistic milieu, in which one needs to know just which particular god’s ire has been aroused and the reason for the epiphany. It is therefore quite at home in “conversion stories,” but scarcely appropriate in the present context. Saul, as he is called in Acts, is quite aware of whom he is persecuting, and he had not learned at the feet of Gamaliel or elsewhere that there were many true lords. The persecutor here is atypical enemy of the people of God, and to all intents and purposes a polytheist sinner. (Pervo 2010: 15)

Pervo notes how Acts also depicts the persecuting Paul as a bloodthirsty personification of “raging insanity” (Acts 8:3; 9:1-2): “Only the most vicious and twisted of officials would seize and bind women no less than men. In Acts 26:10, Paul advises Agrippa that he had consistently voted for the death penalty against followers of Jesus. The confrontation with the risen one transformed Paul from darkness to light, error to truth, madness to moderation, ‘le miracle des miracles’” (2010: 15). Thus in Acts “Paul becomes the very model of the modern majority, a gentile convert, a figure with whom such converts can identify and to whom they may look for both inspiration and guidance” (2010: 16).

The Calling of Paul in Acts We can now see how some of the radical interpreters of Paul converge with scholars of Acts in their understanding on the book of Acts.6 For both, Paul in

6. Notice how this convergence is attested by another prominent scholar of Acts: “Scholars of the historical Paul, particularly those who embrace the so-called ‘new

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Acts is a former Jew who has abandoned his ancestral customs. He becomes a Christian, a role model for Gentiles. Gager and Pervo part company, however, in their estimation of the prominence of the Jewish followers of Jesus toward the end of the first century CE. Whereas Gager ascribes a rather high profile to Jewish Christians throughout Late Antiquity, Pervo assumes their quasi-depletion by the time Acts was written: “Luke’s task was to support the legitimacy of the gentile mission without cutting the links to the ancestral religion of Israel. His major challenge was not from those who wished to impose Torah observance upon all Christians. In the Aegean world, that was no longer a vital controversy—in so far as extant evidence indicates” (2010: 151–52). By overlooking the Gospel of Matthew, the Revelation of John, the Didache (6:1-3), Justin Martyr, and possibly the earlier strata of Pseudo-Clementines, which testify to an ongoing debate about keeping the Torah, Pervo can underestimate the Jewish dimension of Acts as well and situate it instead in an “Aegean Greek” milieu. It is certainly worthwhile considering how Gentile readers might have responded to the portrait of Paul in Acts. No doubt Acts reveals an interest in the theme of the inclusion of the Gentiles within the ekklesia. Focus on this theme, however, should not come at the cost of appreciating or even distorting the equally important attention granted in Acts to Paul’s Jewishness and his relationship to his Jewish peers, be they Jewish followers of Jesus or mainstream Jews.7 In response to this rather classic understanding of Paul in Acts, I would first call attention to a small but important observation: Acts 3:17 cannot serve “to explain, if not to excuse, gentile behavior” (Pervo 2010: 15), since it explicitly deals with the theme of Jewish ignorance. The Jews “unknowingly” (κατὰ ἄγνοιαν) had Jesus crucified, so Acts 3:17 claim—which mitigates their complicity in Jesus’s crucifixion. Indeed, according to Acts 13:27, the Jews unwittingly fulfilled divine will: “not knowing” (ἀγνοήσαντες) the meaning of their own prophetic scriptures, those living in Jerusalem along with their leaders had Jesus eliminated. But the blame for Jesus’s crucifixion is formulated within the context of divine providence (2:23), further diminishing the people’s culpability. Acts does not hold all “Jews” accountable throughout the generations for having Jesus crucified, which was done

perspective’ on Paul, stress that Paul’s own understanding of his ministry to the Gentiles, as expressed in his epistles, can best be understood as a prophetic calling rather than as a conversion to a new religion (see, for example, Eisenbaum 2009). But the dramatic nature of the turning, as told in the Acts narrative, suggest that the author of Acts would mark Paul out as having changed profoundly on that road. In Acts, Paul emerges from the experience with a one-hundred-and eighty-degree turn of mind, now embracing the proclamation of Jesus as Christ with the same zeal he had once shown in persecuting those who so believed. The ‘conversion’ also transforms Paul from persecutor to persecuted” (Matthews 2013: 30). 7. To be fair, Pervo (2010: 152) recognizes Paul’s Jewish side in Acts, but this acknowledgment is made without sufficient consideration to Luke’s contemporary preoccupation with Jewish followers of Jesus and Jews at large. de Boer (1980: 375–78) does a better job underscoring the reasons for the Jewish portrait of Paul in Acts.

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out of ignorance only by the generation of Jews residing in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus’s death. No one during Jesus’s time, including his Jewish disciples, despite the repeated warnings delivered by the Lukan Jesus (Lk. 13:33; 17:25; 22:37, etc.), “knew” that the messiah was supposed to die on the cross. One should not make much of Paul’s failure to recognize the risen Jesus on his way to Damascus. Paul, after all, as the author of Acts well knew, had never met Jesus beforehand. Many distinguished Israelites, in any case, failed to recognize at first glance that they were interacting with a heavenly messenger. Joshua, upon seeing an armed man standing beside him near Jericho, asked: “are you for us or for our enemies?” The man turned out to be the “commander of the army of the LORD” (Josh. 3:13-14). It took the young Samuel three calls and assisted guidance from his spiritual mentor Eli before he was able to realize that it was YHWH who had been persistently trying to communicate with him (1 Sam. 3:1-10). Gideon, one of the celebrated judges of Israel, seemed uncertain he was conversing with an angel of the Lord until the very last minute when the divine messenger vanished from his sight (Judg. 6:12-13, 17, 22). Likewise, Manoah, future father of the famed Samson, mistakenly tried to offer a sumptuous meal to a heavenly messenger, as he did “not know that he was an angel of the LORD” (Judg. 13:16). Tobias and Tobit’s failure to uncover the true identity of “Azariah, son of the great Hananiah” (Tob. 5:13) is humorous, though, admittedly, the angel Raphael simulated eating (angels apparently do not digest food) and disclosed his angelic background only at the end of a successful rescue mission (12:19). According to the Ascension of Isaiah, the prophet Isaiah, asked upon seeing an angel in a vision: “Who are you? And what is your name?” (7:3) Even the Jewish disciples of Jesus did not recognize their lord in his resurrected form until “their eyes were opened” (Lk. 24:31). Incidentally, the heavenly voice addresses Paul as he makes his way to Damascus in the Hebrew language calling him by his Hebrew name, which is transliterated in Greek as Saoul (Acts 9:4, 17; 22:7, 13; 26:14). This precision further underscores Paul’s Jewishness, a “Hebrew of Hebrews” in Paul’s own words (Phil. 3:5). Were it not for Acts, we would probably not even know Paul’s Hebrew name. In any case, the switch from “Paulos” to “Saulos” (Paul actually goes by three names in Acts: Saulos, Saoul, and Paulos) is not constitutive of Paul’s conversion to “Christianity.” Acts 13:9 explicitly states, “Saul, who is also Paul,” after the Damascus incident, implying that he went by two names and did not exchange one identity for another. Indeed, Acts 13:9 probably introduces Saul as Paul for the first time in Acts to distinguish him from the other Paul mentioned in the same pericope, Sergius Paulus (Stendahl 1976: 11). The only sin that Acts holds against Paul is the one Paul reproaches himself for so vividly within his own letters: “For you have heard of my mode of life then in Judaism, that I exceedingly persecuted the congregation of God and was trying to destroy it” (Gal. 1:13). In Philippians, Paul adds that he persecuted the ekklesia with zeal (3:6). Paul’s violent opposition against the ekklesia was shameful in his eyes: “For I myself am the least of the apostles who is not worthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the congregation of God” (1 Cor. 15:9). Acts holds Paul accountable for the same crime, nothing else. The specification in Acts that Paul persecuted men and women

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(Acts 8:3; 9:1-2), though shocking to modern sensibilities, hardly demonstrates that Luke intended to craft the “pre-Christian Paul” as a “Gentile sinner.” Perhaps the only way that the portrait of Paul’s calling in Acts departs from Paul’s own autobiographical descriptions is in its clarification that Paul did not cease being a Jew. Whereas the situational and rhetorical nature of Paul’s letters may convey the impression that Paul forsook or became indifferent about his Jewish heritage, Acts clarifies that Paul continued to view himself as a Jew well after his unique encounter with the risen Christ on his way to Damascus. In Galatians, Paul relates his former persecution of the ekklesia with his prior conduct in Judaism. The juxtaposition of his Jewish upbringing with his report about his calling could suggest, depending on the context, that Paul no longer practiced Judaism, at least not in the same manner. Phil. 3:4-8 is even more troubling in its hyperbolic rhetoric. First, Paul showcases his Israelite credentials: circumcised on the eighth day, member of the people of Israel, from the tribe of Benjamin, Hebrew of Hebrews, according to the Law, a Pharisee. Paul, however, then seemingly dismisses this distinctive heritage as “refuse” when he compares it with the surpassing knowledge of Jesus as messiah and lord. Would this mean that Paul no longer considered it existentially meaningful for Jews to keep Torah? Did he still view himself as a Pharisee? Or should this statement be interpreted simply as part of a rhetorical discourse addressed to a specific situation in which Gentile Christians were compelled to observe the Torah (Phil. 3:2-3)? Acts provides clear answers to these questions. In Acts, Paul never speaks disparagingly of the Torah. Paul only opposed the circumcision of Gentiles. Otherwise, he continued to uphold the observance of the Torah for Jews. He was even willing to circumcise Timothy, a “borderline” Jew (16:1-3). In Acts’ speeches, Paul insists that he is a Jew (21:39; 22:3). He even identifies himself as a Pharisee when brought before the Sanhedrin of Jerusalem (23:6). More than just opportunism lurks in this scene. Paul is not simply trying to find a clever way out of a precarious situation. He can honestly claim to be a Pharisee because of his fidelity to Israel’s ancestral customs and his firm belief in the resurrection, the doctrine, according to Acts, that distinguishes Pharisees and Nazarenes from Sadducees. Thus, Paul confesses during his hearing before Felix the primary reason for his affiliation with the Jewish sect known as the Nazarenes or “The Way,” namely, his hope in the resurrection (24:5, 14-15, 21). Similarly, when Paul rehearses his testimony before the Jewish King Agrippa, he claims that the prophets and Moses indicated that Jesus would rise first from among the dead (26:22-23). The belief in the resurrection, confirmed by Jesus’s own rising from the dead, is the reason why Paul is a believer. The resurrection of the dead forms part, furthermore, of the hope of redemption for the twelve tribes of Israel (26:6-7). Moving from believing in the resurrection to believing in its confirmation does not constitute much of a “conversion” story, especially if it was supposed to be relatable to former polytheistic Gentile sinners now turned into monotheistic Christians. Even the author of Acts knew how strange the concept of the resurrection was for Aegean Athenians to grasp (Acts 17:32). In Acts, Paul, however, only needed to make the very small step of “converting” from a pharisaic Jew into a pharisaic-Nazarene Jew.

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The term “conversion,” therefore, seems unsuitable for appreciating Luke’s Jewish portrait of Paul. Indeed, in the three occasions when Paul’s journey to Damascus is recounted, language associated with calling and election appears prominently. These portraits of Paul’s calling, moreover, ultimately depend on materials found in the Hebrew prophets. First, Acts 9:15 designated Paul as a “vessel chosen” (σκεῦος ἐκλογῆς) to bear God’s name “before the nations and kings and children of Israel.” Paul, therefore, has been chosen, set aside to preach to the nations and the Jews alike (cf. Rom 1:16), not unlike the prophet Jeremiah who was not only appointed as “a prophet to the nations” (Jer. 1:5) but also preached to his fellow Judahites. This depiction fits well with Paul’s own description of his apostolic calling in Galatians, which also contains language and imagery derived from Jeremiah (Gal. 1:15-16). In Acts’ second and third retellings of Paul’s Damascus experience, the theme of prophetic election continues. God “appointed” (προεχειρίσατό) Paul to be a witness before all humans (22:14-15). The post-resurrected Jesus appeared to Paul “to appoint” (προχειρίσασθαί) him “as a servant and witness of the things” he has seen (26:16). God sends (ἀποστέλλω) Paul, who has been “chosen” or “set aside” (ἐξαιρούμενός) from the people and the nations, “in order to open their eyes, to turn them from darkness to light” (26:17-18). The latter phrase echoes Isa. 42:7, 16, which refer to opening the eyes of the blind and turning darkness into light. Further parallels with Second Isaiah can be found elsewhere in Acts, including Paul’s assignment to bring “light to the Gentiles, salvation to the ends of the earth” (13:46), which draws from Isa. 49:6. All three accounts in Acts about Paul’s Damascus experience, then, are set within the framework of calling: Paul is a chosen instrument, who has been appointed and sent forth to proclaim the good tidings about Jesus’s lordship and resurrection.8

Conclusion Our assessment of Paul’s calling in Acts suggests that its Gentile readership would have been able to identify with its hero only at a general level, as a former opponent who turned into passionate supporter of the Jesus movement. For “conversion” stories proper, non-Jewish readers could find other figures in the text of Acts with whom they could relate. Cornelius, in particular, reflects the ideal Gentile convert

8. Time and space, alas, do not allow for me to interact with Dale’s Allison study (2016), which came out moments before this piece was submitted for publication. Allison persuasively demonstrates that the accounts in Acts 9:1-9, 22:6-11, and 26:12-18 liken Paul’s calling to Ezekiel’s inaugural vision. Both Ezekiel and Paul see the divine glory (Ezek. 1:28/ Acts 22:11), hear a heavenly voice (Ezek 1:28/Acts 9:4-6; 22:7-10; 26:14-18), fall on the ground (Ezek. 1:28/Acts 9:4; 22:7; 26:14), then stand on their feet (Ezek. 2:1-2/9:6-8; 22:1011; 26:16), and are charged with a mission (Ezek. 2:3-7; Acts 26:16-18). Needless to say, these observations only strengthen my thesis.

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in Luke’s eyes: a non-Jew who is already amiable to Judaism, willingly submits to the authority of Jesus, and is purified and sanctified along with his entire household, having received the gift of the sacred spirit. The thoroughly Jewish depiction of Paul in Acts, on the other hand, suggests that its author was seeking to portray him as an ideal Jew, one who followed Jesus, remained committed to the Torah, but was also open to fellowshipping with Gentile Christians without imposing upon them the requirements of the Jewish Law. Jewish followers of Jesus do not recede from the literary scene of Acts once the Apostolic Decree is promulgated in Chapter 15. Paul, first of all, is a Jewish follower of Jesus. We learn, furthermore, more about the number and zeal of Jewish followers of Jesus toward the end of Acts during Paul’s final encounter and submission to no one other than James, the leader of Torah-observant Nazarene Judaism. This assessment of the literary contents of Acts suggests that Jewish followers of Jesus were alive and well after 70 CE, the time when Acts was written. The author of Acts does not downplay their significance but recognizes their ongoing influence. In a post-70 CE setting with its diverse receptions and rejections of Paul, it is best to see Acts as responding to a complex, persistent discussion about the status of the Torah among Christians. Some took Paul’s teachings to one of its possible conclusions, claiming that Jews and non-Jews were exempt from the Law. Some even refused to tolerate Jewish followers of Jesus who remained loyal to their ancestral customs (as Justin attests, at least for a later time, in Dialogue with Trypho ch. 47). On the other hand of the spectrum, Jewish followers of Jesus, often dubbed Ebionites or Nazarenes in heresiological and modern scholarly writings, remained stubbornly attached to the precepts of the Torah. In their ranks too could be found those who refused to commune with their Gentile counterparts unless they converted fully to Judaism. They were suspicious of Paul, as they saw many of his contemporary followers using his teachings to dismiss the relevance of Torah observance. This suspicion concerning Paul probably was shared in mainstream Jewish circles as well, which remained opposed to the Jesus movement in general (Acts 21:21). In this complex situation, the author of Acts fleshed out a position that expressed remarkable accommodation to these two extremes. Jewish followers of Jesus were to remain Jewish. Paul himself had never preached against Judaism or the Torah. He remained faithful to his Jewish heritage throughout and remained hopeful for Israel’s restoration until the very end. Gentiles, on the other hand, were not obliged to become Jews after accepting Jesus as their lord. Gentiles qua Gentiles could enjoy fellowship with Jews who remained Jews, if only both sides were willing to accept their mutual differences in light of the faith that was meant to unite them.

References Allison Jr., D. C. (2016), “Acts 9:1–9, 22:6–11, 26:12–18: Paul and Ezekiel,” Journal of Biblical Literature 135 (4): 807–26. de Boer, M. C. (1980), “Images of Paul in the Post-Apostolic Period,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 42 (3): 359–80.

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Dunn, J. D. G. (1983), “The New Perspective on Paul,” Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 65 (2): 95–122. Eisenbaum, P. (2009), Paul Was Not a Christian: The Original Message of a Misunderstood Apostle, New York: HarperOne. Gager, J. G. (2000), Reinventing Paul, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gager, J. G. (2007), “Did Jewish Christians See the Rise of Islam?” in A. H. Becker and A. Y. Reed (eds.), The Ways That Never Parted, 361–72, Minneapolis: Fortress. Repr. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003. Gager, J. G. (2015), Who Made Early Christianity? The Jewish Lives of the Apostle Paul, New York: Columbia University Press. Gaston, L. (1986), “Anti-Judaism and the Passion Narrative in Luke and Acts,” in P. Richardson with D. Granskou (eds.), Anti-Judaism in Early Christianity, 1, 2 vols., Studies in Christianity and Judaism 2–3, 127–53, Waterloo, ON: Wilfred Laurier University Press. Jervell, J. (1972), Luke and the People of God: A New Look at Luke-Acts, Minneapolis: Augsburg. Jervell, J. (1980), “The Mighty Minority,” Studia Theologica, 34 (1): 13–38. Jervell, J. (1996), The Theology of the Acts of the Apostles, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kinzer, M. (2005), Postmissionary Messianic Judaism: Redefining Christian Engagement with the Jewish People, Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press. Klinghardt, M. (1988), Gesetz und Volk Gottes, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2.32, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Le Cornu, H. with J. Shulam (2003), A Commentary on the Jewish Roots of Acts, 2 vols., Jerusalem: Academon. Loader, W. R. G. (1997), Jesus’ Attitude towards the Law, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2.97, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Matthews, S. (2013), The Acts of the Apostles: Taming the Tongues of Fire, Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press. McWhirter, J. (2014), Rejected Prophets: Jesus and His Witnesses in Luke-Acts, Minneapolis: Fortress. Oliver, I. W. (2013), Torah Praxis after 70 CE: Reading Matthew and Luke-Acts as Jewish Texts, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2.355, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Oliver, I. W. (2016), “The ‘Historical Paul’ and the Paul of Acts: Which is More Jewish?” in G. Boccaccini and C. A. Segovia (eds.), Paul the Jew: Rereading the Apostle as a Figure of Second Temple Judaism, 51–80, Minneapolis: Fortress. Pervo, R. I. (2010), The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in Early Christianity, Minneapolis: Fortress. Pickett, R. (2011), “Luke and Empire: An Introduction,” in D. Rhoads, D. Esterline, and J. Won Lee (eds.), Luke and Empire: Essays in Honor of Robert L. Brawley, 1–22, Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications. Salmon, M. (1988), “Insider or Outsider? Luke’s Relationship with Judaism,” in J. B. Tyson (ed.), Luke-Acts and the Jewish People: Eight Critical Perspectives, 76–82, Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House. Sanders, E. P. (1977), Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion, Philadelphia: Fortress. Segovia, C. A. (2013), Por una interpretación no cristiana de Pablo de Tarso: El redescubrimiento contemporáneo de un judío mesiánico, Published by C. A. Segovia.

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Stendhal, K. (1976), Paul among Jews and Gentiles, Philadelphia: Fortress. Strelan, R. (2008), Luke the Priest: The Authority of the Author of the Third Gospel, Burlington, VT: Ashgate. Thiessen, M. (2011), Contesting Conversion: Genealogy, Circumcision, and Identity in Ancient Judaism and Christianity, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Tiede, D. L. (1988), Luke, Augsburg Commentaries on the New Testament, Minneapolis: Augsburg.

Chapter 14 LUKE’S PORTRAIT OF PAUL IN ACTS 21:17-26 David Rudolph

In his book, Paul: The Apostle’s Letters, Life, and Thought (2015), E. P. Sanders introduces Paul’s writings and references almost every chapter of Acts, including Acts 21, but notably skips over Acts 21:17-26. The glaring omission is indicative of a general lack of interest in this passage in contemporary New Testament studies. Acts 21:17-26 is something of a marginal text in modern works on Paul. When mentioned, it is often in passing, and the little discussion that occasionally does take place usually tends toward dismissing its significance (the more important issue is the collection!). Despite its marginalization, a compelling case can be made that Acts 21:17-26 is a principal passage in Luke’s narrative. It is the mirror text of Acts 15, the center of a trajectory of seven defenses, and represents Paul setting the record straight, before God and his accusers, that he remained a Torah-observant Jew and taught in a way consistent with these convictions. Luke’s penning of this passage is an attempt to resolve controversy over this crucial matter in the ekklesia of his day and provide a vital frame of reference for how Paul’s teachings should be interpreted.1

1. For discussion of the historical reliability of Luke’s portrait of Paul in Acts 21:17-26, see Baur (1876, 1: 195–215); Esler (1987: 125–29); Lüdemann (1989: 58–59; 1996: 46–47); Bauckham (2003: 250–59); Le Cornu (2003, 2): 1183–192 Aune (2011: 287–320); Chepey (2000: 66; 2005: 173–74; 2012: 69–75); Keener (2014, 3: 3113–114). Scholars who question the reliability of Acts 21:17-26 typically do so because Luke (1) depicts Paul as a Torahobservant Jew and (2) describes the rumors in Acts 21:20-21, 24 as false, not true. Luke’s Paul is regarded as an invention in light of the law-free Paul of the letters. Notably, the dismissal of Luke’s portrait of Paul in Acts 21:17-26 for these reasons indirectly attests to the reading of Luke’s narrative proposed in this chapter: Paul remained a Torah-observant Jew and taught in a way consistent with these convictions. If Acts 21:17-26 is reliable, and this narrative reading is accepted, then the passage has significant interpretive value since Paul’s testimony that he remained law observant took place after he wrote Galatians, 1 Corinthians, and Romans. Modern exegetes often view Paul’s position on the law in these

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A Principal Passage The pericope opens with Paul’s arrival in Jerusalem where he is informed that rumors of him preaching a law-free gospel to Diaspora Jews had arrived ahead of him. While exegetes today often echo this anomalous image of Paul,2 Luke portrays first-century Jerusalem Messianic leaders as contesting this evaluation. James and the elders give the lie to the rumor by asking Paul to purify himself in the temple among four Nazirites and pay for the sacrifices the Torah requires to complete their vows (Num. 6:1-21).3 The purpose of the public testimony in James’s words is to demonstrate that (a) “there is nothing in what they [the members of the community] have been told about you” (v. 24b)—the rumor that Paul subverted Jewish law and custom was false; and (b) “you yourself also live in observance of the law” (v. 24c), that is, Paul himself remained a Torah true Jew like the “zealous for the law” in Jerusalem (v 20). The prearranged testimony was to communicate this negative and positive message.4 Without objection, Paul follows the plan. Luke shines the spotlight on Acts 21:17-26 by situating Paul among holy people, in a holy place, and at a singularly holy time. The presence of James and the elders in Acts 21:17-26 communicates to the reader that this is a key passage. James is the

letters as consistent with the rumor described in Acts 21:20-21, for example, N. T. Wright (2013: 359) on Rom. 14, “Paul did not himself continue to keep the kosher laws, and did not propose to, or require of, other ‘Jewish Christians’ that they should, either.” However, if Luke’s portrait of Paul in Acts 21:17-26 is reliable and Paul, ipso facto, kept the Jewish food laws because he remained a Torah-observant Jew, then such readings of Rom. 14 need to be reassessed as I have argued elsewhere (Rudolph 2016b: 151–81; 2005: 62–63). Given Luke’s emphasis on how Paul’s teachings have been misunderstood, Acts 21:17-26 seems to be aimed in part at prompting such reassessments (Thiessen 2016: 164–65; cf. Nanos and Zetterholm 2015). That Luke was familiar with some of Paul’s letters is argued by Walker (1985: 3–23); Aejmelaeus (1987); Pervo (2006: 51–147); Tyson (2006: 15–22); Schellenberg (2015: 193–213). 2. “By virtue of Paul’s activities and legacy, he could be labeled as a Jewish apostate (just as he is accused of in Acts 21:20-21, 27-28; 24:5-6)” (Bird 2016: 7–8). 3. “The Greek infinitive ξυρᾶσθαι (‘to be shaved’) used in the context of a Nazirite vow, as a translation of ‫ לגלת‬connotes ‘to bring the offerings of a Nazirite’ (see m. Naz. 2.5–6), that is, to pay for the required sacrifices of a Nazirite who is ending his or her vow” (Aune 2011: 295). These sacrifices included a burnt offering, a sin offering, together with their respective grain offerings and drink offerings and a basket of unleavened bread (Num. 6:13-15). The final offering came from the Nazirite himself, his hair. It was shorn and thrown into the fire (Num. 6:18; Josephus, Ant. 4.72). See Tomes (1995: 191–92). 4. “Rather than resorting to a textual (letter) solution with its attendant risks of mishandling both in terms of delivery and interpretation, James proposes a ritual (Nazirite) confirmation of Paul’s loyalty to the Jewish law (21:23-24, 26). As interpreters of Paul well know, letters can be ‘hard to understand’ (2 Pet. 3.16); acts often speak louder and clearer than words” (Spencer 1997: 200).

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brother of the Messiah, a pillar apostle, head of the Jerusalem Council, leader of the mother congregation, and known as “the Just” (according to Hegesippus).5 Luke brings James into Acts when there is a need to resolve a major controversy (Jervell 1972: 185–87, 195–96, 199). In early Christian tradition, James is a Nazirite,6 a Jew set apart for the Lord who maintains a level of Torah observance that is beyond reproach, “James, whose authority as a law-abiding Jew is not questioned in the early church, can serve as witness to Paul’s faithfulness to the law” (Salo 1991: 266). Similarly, the elders represent, next to the apostles, the highest level of ekklesial authority in the community of Jesus followers. This is the case in Acts 15 and 16 where Luke identifies “the apostles and elders” as the halakhic decisors who handed down the apostolic decree, a ruling binding on all Gentile believers (Acts 15:22; 16:4; 21:25). By bringing the elders into Acts 21:17-26, Luke conveys that it is a matter of utmost importance with implications for the whole ekklesia. The elders’ support for Paul attests to his Torah-faithful life. The four Nazirites in Acts 21:17-26 also serve a narrative role in confirming that Paul is a Torah-observant Jew and does not preach a law-free gospel to Jews. Bart Koet notes: After the accusations in Acts 18:12–13 about Paul not being lawabiding enough, this vow and the suggestion that it is a Nazirite vow, shows the reader, that Paul is even more than lawabiding, he is doing more than what is strictly necessary. . . . By connecting Paul twice with the phenomenon of Naziritism as an answer to critics on his attitude towards the Law, Luke demonstrates the importance of Paul fulfilling even supererogatory rituals to show his lawabidingness.7

The Nazirite exceeded the maximum standards of God’s law and was a symbol of Torah-observant Israel (Amos 2:11-12; 1 Macc. 3:49).8 As Koet puts it, James “(who himself is depicted as a lifelong Nazir and as an example of lawabidingness in Eusebius’ Church History; see Book II XXIII 4–6) suggests to Paul to pay for four Nazirites as a proof of his lawabidingness. By paying for the expenses of the sacrifices of those men Paul associates himself with their lawabidingness” (Koet 1996: 139). In the context of Acts 18:18—where Paul takes a Nazirite vow9—and

5. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 2.23.3–4. 6. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 2.23.4-6. 7. Koet (1996: 141). See Chepey (2005: 66, 173–74). 8. Cf. Num. 6:1-2; Judg. 13:7; 16:17; 1 Sam. 1:11; Lk. 1:15. See Bockmuehl (2000: 36–48). 9. Neusner (1999: 81) suggests that Paul was under a Nazirite vow in Acts 21 and that James advised Paul to fulfill his obligations with four other Nazirites. While the scenario is possible, Luke’s narrative suggests that Paul had already concluded a Nazirite vow in Cenchreae (Acts 18:18) and presented Nazirite offerings during a previous trip to Jerusalem (Acts 18:21-22). This conclusion is supported by the Western text of Acts 18:21 and Luke’s use of ἀναβαίνω in Acts 18:22. For this reason, the NRSV translates Acts 18:22, “When he had landed at Caesarea, he went up to Jerusalem and greeted the church, and then went down to

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Acts 21:17-26—where Paul pays for four men to fulfill their Nazirite vows10—Luke portrays Paul as a Jesus-believing Jew who is law-abiding and encourages fellow Jews to be law-abiding. The location of Acts 21:17-26 also highlights the significance of the passage. Jerusalem is the geographic center of Luke’s space-time universe. The third gospel begins in Jerusalem and ends in Jerusalem. In the first chapter of Acts, the Messiah ascends to heaven from Jerusalem and angelic messengers foretell Jesus’s return to Jerusalem in the same way that he left (Acts 1:11-12; cf. Zech. 14:4). The gospel spreads from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth. This spread, however, is not linear but circular. Paul keeps returning to Jerusalem (Acts 9:26-31; 11:27-30; 15:1-2; 18:22).11 The lack of emphasis on Jerusalem at the end of Acts is likely Luke’s way of reminding the reader that the story is unfinished. The circle will be completed in Jerusalem after “the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled” (Lk. 21:24; Acts 1:6).12 In this wider narrative context, Paul’s final visit to Jerusalem in Acts 21:17-26 is one of the pivotal moments in Luke’s story. The focus on the temple in Acts 21:17-26 is also notable. Luke-Acts starts off in the temple (Lk. 1:5-25). The temple is where the earliest community of Jesusbelieving Jews “spent much time together .  .  . in Solomon’s Portico” (Acts 2:46; 3:1-10; 5:12; cf. 5:42). Paul fell into a trance in the temple and saw Jesus say to him, “Go, for I will send you far away to the Gentiles” (Acts 22:17-21). That Acts 21:26 takes place in the temple signals to the reader of Luke’s story that it is a salient episode. Moreover, the temple serves to confirm Paul’s testimony. The temple was regarded in Israel as a “holy place” where people took oaths to resolve controversy.13 In Acts 21:26, Paul publicly testifies in the temple, before God and altar, that the rumors about him are false and that he remains a Torah-observant Jew. His ritual actions in this sacred place are the equivalent of a sworn testimony to set the record straight on this matter once and for all.

Antioch.” In Acts 18:21, Codex Bezae and the majority of Byzantine MSS insert, “I must at all costs celebrate the coming feast day in Hierosoluma” (Rius-Camps and Read-Heimerdinger 2007: 384). The case for the Codex Bezae insertion is argued by Ross (1992: 247–49). Against the Western addition, see Metzger (1975: 465); Strange (1992: 47, 163); Chepey (2000: 67). It would appear that Paul was only in need of ritual purification in Acts 21. 10. The four in Acts 21:24, 26-27 were in need of purification, possibly due to corpse defilement which necessitated the seven-day purification ritual described in Num. 19:1-13 (cf.  Num. 6:9-12; 31:19; m. Naz. 7:3; Philo, Spec. Laws 3.205; Acts 20:9-10). Josephus mentions that Jews underwent ritual purification to enter the enclosure of the temple and that it was required of pilgrims who came to offer Shavuot sacrifices (Ant. 12.145; J.W. 1.229; cf. Lev. 23:17-19; Acts 20:16; 24:17-18; Jn 11:55). For a discussion of the possible reasons for purification in Acts 21:17-26, see Gane (2008: 9–17); Aune (2011: 290–318). 11. “Each of Paul’s missionary campaigns concluded with a visit to Jerusalem, so that Paul’s work began from and ended in Jerusalem in each case” (Marshall 1980: 301–302). 12. Tannehill (2005: 120–24); Fuller (2006: 257–64); Bauckham (2001: 435–87). 13. Acts 6:13; 21:28; 1 Kgs 8:31-32; 2 Chron. 6:22-23; Neh. 5:12; cf. Mt. 23:16.

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The timing of Acts 21:17-26 adds to the case that a principal passage is in view. It is the third month of the Torah’s calendar and the Jewish world is celebrating the pilgrimage festival of Shavuot (Pentecost).14 Josephus records that on the “arrival of Pentecost .  .  . a countless multitude flocked in from Galilee, from Idumaea, from Jericho, and from Peraea beyond the Jordan” to present festal offerings (War 2:42– 43). Paul was one of these Jewish pilgrims “in a hurry to reach Jerusalem, if possible, by the day of Pentecost” to “offer sacrifices” (Acts 20:16; 24:17).15 Notably, Pentecost coincided with the anniversary of the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai, an event witnessed by all Israel (Exod. 19:1; 20:22[19]). In Luke’s narrative, Pentecost continues to be a time when spectacular events are witnessed among God’s people. In Acts 2, the Holy Spirit is poured out on the day of Pentecost and Jews from “every nation under heaven” witness it (Acts 2:5-12). In Acts 21:17-26, Paul (surrounded by Nazirites who drew crowds because of their piety and lion-like appearance)16 testified in the temple on Pentecost that he remained a Torah-observant Jew, and Jewish pilgrims from around the world, including many of Paul’s accusers, witnessed this public declaration (Acts 21:27-28). James’s plan was for this picture of Paul to be widely seen and shared, “Thus all will know that there is nothing in what they have been told about you, but that you yourself also live in observance of the law” (Acts 21:24).

The False Rumor and Seven Defenses (Acts 16:3; 18:18; 21:17-26; 23:6; 24:14, 16; 25:8; 28:17) Given this portrait of Paul as a Torah-observant Jew, how does Luke account for the rumor that Paul taught Diaspora Jews not to keep the law and not to circumcise their sons (Acts 21:21)? According to the narrative, the Jerusalem leaders appointed Paul and Barnabas to inform the “Gentiles” about the Jerusalem Council’s decision to exempt Jesus-believing Gentiles from circumcision and full Torah observance (Acts 15:19-31; 16:4). It may be reasonably assumed from the story that some people thought the exemption applied to Jews as well, leaving the impression that Paul taught Jews that they no longer had to circumcise their sons or keep the Torah. It is easy to imagine Paul’s detractors misreporting the facts about who was exempt in order to denounce Paul as an apostate. James’s reference to the Jerusalem Council decision in Acts 21:25 may allude to how Paul’s direct involvement in announcing the apostolic decree indirectly led to the accusations (Jervell 1972: 195–96; Le Cornu 2003, 2:1188).

14. Acts 20:16; cf. Lev. 23:15-21; Deut. 16:9-11, 16. 15. See Lev. 23:16-20. 16. “Nazirites would have been a popular site in the temple during Pentecost and easily noticed because of their appearance. . . . By being present with such figures, Paul’s action of purifying himself and paying for the four men to have haircuts and sacrifices offered to renew their vows would likely have been easily witnessed” (Chepey 2005: 173).

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Luke’s use of διδάσκειν in Acts 21:21 may also refer to Paul’s discourse with Gentiles about the law that was taken out of context and applied to Jews. For example, Paul wrote, “Listen! I, Paul, am telling you that if you let yourselves be circumcised, Christ will be of no benefit to you” (Gal. 5:2). The implied audience of the passage is Gentile believers since Gentiles are the “uncircumcised” (Gal. 2:7-9). Moreover, Paul’s “rule in all the churches” explicitly states that Jews should remain circumcised and Gentiles uncircumcised (1 Cor. 7:17-24).17 Despite the Gentile Sitz im Leben of Gal. 5:2, Paul’s words may have been misconstrued to mean, “Listen! I, Paul, am telling you [Jews] that if you let [your sons] be circumcised, Christ will be of no benefit to you.” For centuries, on the basis of this text, Jesus-believing Jews have been admonished by Gentile Christians not to circumcise their sons. From a narrative point of view, it is not difficult to see how a misunderstanding about Paul’s intended audience in Gal. 5:2, or a deliberate distortion of his words by his critics, could have led to the false rumor in Acts 21:21 (“you tell [Jews] not to circumcise their children”).18 Gal. 5:2 is but one of the many Pauline texts that could have been misrepresented by Paul’s opponents to depict him as an apostate Jew.19 The rumor of Paul’s law-free gospel to Jews spread to Jewish communities throughout the Mediterranean world and resulted in numerous occasions like Acts 21:21 where Paul had to defend himself. Acts 21:17-26 may be seen as the center of a trajectory of seven defenses in Luke’s narrative aimed at responding to this false rumor and convincing the reader that Paul remained a Torah-observant Jew. This is a major theme of Acts. As Isaac Oliver puts it, “It seems likely that Acts was written precisely to counter the rumors circulating among Jewish followers of Jesus and Jews in general that Paul was an apostate” (2016: 4). Leading up to Acts 21:17-26, Luke informs his audience that Jews in Corinth accused Paul of “persuading people to worship God in ways that are contrary to the law” (Acts 18:13). The narrator addresses the false charge by placing it between Paul’s circumcision of Timothy in Acts 16:3 and Paul taking a Nazirite vow in Acts 18:18—two sacred rituals that demonstrate Paul not only observed the Torah but went above and beyond the call of duty to the Torah.20 Acts 21:17-26 then puts the nail in the coffin of the slander.

17. Rudolph (2010: 1–23). Paul notes in Gal. 5:3 that the circumcised are “obliged to obey the entire law.” For a discussion of erasure language in 1 Cor. 7:19; Gal. 3:28; 5:16; 6:15, see Rudolph (2016a: 27–33); Thiessen (2016: 8–11, 164–65). Despite Paul’s rule that Jews should remain in their calling as Jews and not assimilate (1 Cor. 7:17-18, 20), it is possible that some Jesus-believing Jews in Pauline churches became (or appeared to be) more relaxed in their commitment to Jewish law due to close association with Gentile believers and thereby contributed to the rumor. See Oliver (2013: 214, 322, 360, 394–95). 18. Keener (2014: 3126–27); Thiessen (2016: 165–66); and Jervell (1984: 64). 19. Cf. 2 Pet. 3:15-16. 20. Paul’s circumcision of Timothy implements the implication of the Jerusalem Council decision that Jews should be circumcised in keeping with the “covenant of circumcision” (Acts 7:8; Gen. 17:9-14). From a literary perspective, Paul’s circumcision of

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In the chapters following Acts 21:17-26, Paul confirms four times that he keeps the Torah, and that he has done nothing against the law or the customs of his people: Confirmation 1: “Brothers, I am [present tense] a Pharisee, a son of Pharisees.” (Acts 23:6)21 Confirmation 2: “But this I admit to you . . . I worship the God of our ancestors, believing everything laid down according to the law or written in the prophets . . . I do my best always to have a clear conscience toward God and all people.” (Acts 24:14, 16) Confirmation 3: “I have in no way committed an offense against the law of the Jews, or against the temple, or against the emperor.” (Acts 25:8) Confirmation 4: “Brothers, though I had done nothing against our people or the customs of our ancestors, yet I was arrested in Jerusalem.” (Acts 28:17)

In literary context, each of these four confirmations point back to Acts 21:17-26 (Balch 2015: 103–04; Koet 2000: 104). One may ask what more Luke could have included in his narrative to express that Paul was a Torah-observant Jew. Acts is replete with statements that describe Paul as faithful to Jewish law and custom (Oliver 2013: 28); statements to the contrary are consistently identified as false rumors. A more detailed examination of the text of Acts 21:17-26, the chief defense, adds lexical and contextual support to the above conclusions:

1. James maintains that Paul “observes the law” (φυλάσσων τὸν νόμον [Acts 21:24]). The language (in the present active tense) refers to careful observance of the law as a whole (cf. Gal. 6:13; Rom. 2:26): Many NT occurrences of φυλάσσω speak of observing the law or commandments (used thus also in the LXX). The basic idea of “keeping a law, etc. from being broken” (BAGD s.v. 1.f) yields the meaning observe,

Timothy informs the reader in advance that the later accusations leveled against Paul, that he taught Diaspora Jews not to circumcise their sons (Acts 21:21), are false. The context of Acts 15–16 suggests that Luke’s explanatory statement (“because of the Jews who were in those places”) does not mean that the act of circumcision was an expedient, but that the timing of the circumcision was an expedient. See Rudolph (2016a: 23–27); Bryan (1988: 293); Oliver (2013: 433); Thiessen (2011: 120–22). 21. Cf. Acts 26:5. Ellison (1970: 199) notes that “the RSV is probably correct in translating the aorist ἔζησα by ‘I have lived,’ instead of by the past tense as in AV, RV, NEB. Not merely would there have been little point in stressing to King Agrippa what he had done, if he no longer did it, but in addition it hardly brings out the force of the καὶ νῦν that follows, which implies not a contradiction but rather an intensification.”

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follow, keep. Initially this refers to observance of the Torah, the law as a whole (νόμον: Acts 7:53; 21:24; Gal. 6:13), the commandments (ἐντολάς: Mk. 10:19; Mt. 19:17; Lk. 18:20), or individual provisions among them (δ ικαιώματα: Rom. 2:26). In the Synoptics as in Acts and Paul this usage is linked with criticism of Jewish observance of the law (a significant exception is Acts 21:24, where Paul is presented as being in agreement with the Jewish Christians).22 φυλάσσω . . . serves esp. to express the divinely required attitude of man to the divine covenant, Exod. 19:5 etc., and to the cultic statutes, laws, commandments, admonitions and warnings; in this sense it becomes a tt. [terminus technicus] in the legal traditions from Exod. to Deut.23 φυλάσσω . . . to continue to keep a law or commandment from being broken.24 Luke’s use of covenant imagery—zealous for the law, Moses, circumcision, Nazirites, ritual purification, temple, sacrifice, Pentecost season (when the law was given)—adds to the covenant keeping connotation of φυλάσσων τὸν νόμον in Acts 21:24.25

2. The καί in ἀλλὰ στοιχεῖς καὶ αὐτὸς (Acts 21:24) is emphatic,26 as in the ESV (“you yourself also [καί] live in observance of the law”), and identifies Paul with the antecedent—the thousands of Jesus-believing Jews in Jerusalem who are “zealous for the law.”27 Paul’s identification with frum Jews is also vividly expressed in the picture of him leading the four Nazirites (the most zealous of the zealous) into the temple (“Then Paul took the men . . . he entered the temple with them” [v. 26]). Here Paul is numbered among the “zealous for the law” (Chepey 2005: 174). James’s plan is for the Jewish world to know that Paul, whom Luke describes as “a Pharisee, a son of Pharisees” in the present tense, continues to “observe the law” like the “zealous for the law” and teaches in a way consistent with these convictions (Acts 21:20, 24; 23:6).28 Luke’s positive emphasis on Paul being “zealous for the law” may explain why the Muratorian Canon (c. 170 CE) comments that “Paul had taken [Luke] with him as one zealous for the law” (Metzger 1989: 305).

22. Kratz (1993, 3:442). 23. Bertram (1974, 9: 237). 24. BDAG (2000: 1068). Cf. Louw and Nida (1989, 1: 468). 25. See Balch (2015: 116). 26. “The conjunction is emphatic (‘you also’)” (Parsons 2003: 412). See Zerwick and Grosvenor (1996: 427). Most English translations of Acts 21:24 leave the καὶ untranslated; exceptions include the NRSV, ESV, NJB, NASB, ASV, KJV. Cf. Jn 7:10. 27. “Consistent with its ancient roots, ‘zeal’ in Second Temple Judaism had to do with an impassioned defense of the covenant by observance of the Law” (Smiles 2002: 461–62). 28. See Jervell (1996: 14; 1984: 71; 1972: 159, 163, 169); Gowler (1991: 288); Davies (1980: 70).

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3. The use of στοιχεῖςin Acts 21:24 (cf. Rom. 4:12; Gal. 5:25) suggests a consistency of lifestyle (Miller 1994: 141–42). It can be variously translated: “live in” (ESV, NET) or “way of life” (NJB). James’s point is that Paul walked the walk of a Torah-faithful Jew. 4. Acts 21:17-26 is the mirror text of Acts 15. James anticipates Paul’s concern that his public testimony may be misinterpreted by Gentile believers to mean that they too should be fully Torah observant. He reassures Paul that the Gentile believers will not misunderstand because “as for the Gentiles who have become believers, we have sent a letter with our judgment that they should abstain from what has been sacrificed to idols and from blood and from what is strangled and from fornication” (Acts 21:25).29 Here James restates the Acts 15 Jerusalem Council decision that exempted Jesus-believing Gentiles from circumcision and other Jewish-specific requirements of the Torah, “James parallels the necessity of Jews keeping the law with the necessity of Gentiles to keep the Apostolic decree (21:25).”30 This mirroring between the Jerusalem Council decision and Acts 21:17-26 is reinforced by Luke’s reference to Moses in Acts 15:21 and 21:21. There is also a parallel use of φυλάσσω in Acts 16:4 and 21:24 (Rudolph 2016a: 53–59; 2002: 67–70). Matthew Thiessen sums up the significance of Acts 21:17-26 in relation to Acts 15, “While both Paul and the Jerusalem assembly believe that Jews ought to continue in their observance of the law, both agree that gentiles should not,31 a decision of the Jerusalem Council that Luke reiterates here (21:25) .  .  . not only does God not require Jewish Christ followers to abandon law observance, he actually requires them to continue in law observance.”32 Paul’s testimony in the temple in verse 26 confirms that he is in accord with this view.

29. Tannehill (1990: 269). 30. Miller (1994: 142). Cf. Marguerat (2009: 111); Bauckham (2007: 75; 1995: 464, 475); Wyschogrod (2004: 209); Bockmuehl (2000: 168–72); Jervell (1984: 143); “V. 25 recalls the decision by the Apostolic Council (cf. esp. 15:20). This verse reveals the whole paragraph as a thought that, in the spirit of Luke’s interest, is central: the differentiation between Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians with regard to Torah observance’ (stegemann, Synagoge, 177)” (Ganser-Kerperin 2000: 275, n. 15). 31. That is, in the sense of Gentiles taking on circumcision and full Torah observance (Acts 15:5-10, 19, 24, 28; cf. 1 Cor. 7:17-18) as Thiessen confirmed in personal correspondence, January 5, 2017. A reasonable case can be made that the four “essentials” of the apostolic decree are based on Lev. 17–18. See Jervell (1972: 144; 1984: 121); Bauckham (1996: 154–84); Wehnert (1997: 72–73); Bockmuel (2000: 165); Ådna (2000: 159–61); Oliver (2013: 394–98). 32. Thiessen (2016: 167). The “ought” is the implication of the Jerusalem Council decision that only Gentiles are exempt from full law observance. Cf. Oliver (2013: 394, 416–17, 436–37, 442, 450); Thiessen (2011: 122–23); Marguerat (2009: 109–117); Kinzer (2005: 108–22); Carras (1999: 693–708); Jervell (1984: 143).

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Conclusion Luke’s portrait of Paul in Acts 21:17-26 is the most explicit statement in the New Testament that Paul remained a Torah-observant Jew after becoming a follower of Jesus. It is a principal passage in Acts, the center of a trajectory of seven defenses, and represents Luke’s attempt to (1) restore an authentic image of Paul to the ekklesia and (2) provide a critical frame of reference for how Paul’s teachings should be interpreted in relation to Jewish law and identity (Wyschogrod 2004: 193–95, 209, 234). Regrettably, neither objective was achieved. The false rumor that Paul repudiates in Acts 21:17-26 became the traditional reading of Paul—amid the parting of the ways between the church and the Jewish people—and approximates what has become the normative view in Pauline studies today (Thiessen 2016: 167), even within the New Perspective.33 It is not surprising, therefore, that most modern exegetes do not take Paul’s testimony in the temple seriously. The story is either ignored, dismissed as fiction, or highly imaginative readings are employed that transform Luke’s Paul into the apostate Paul described in Acts 21:21.34 Despite these attempts to downplay the significance of Acts 21:17-26, this marginal text remains a perennial problem for the normative view because Acts is “the earliest Wirkungsgeschichte of Paul’s life and teachings with respect to Torah observance.”35 For this reason, renewed interest in the early reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew will always lead to a renewed interest in Acts 21:17-26.

References Ådna, J. (2000), “James’ Position at the Summit Meeting of the Apostles and the Elders in Jerusalem (Acts 15),” in J. Ådna and H. Kvalbein (eds.), The Mission of the Early Church to Jews and Gentiles, 125–61, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck.

33. “He [Paul] had abandoned the most basic markers of Jewish identity. . . . If he simply went on keeping Torah, insisting that continuing Torah observance was mandatory for Jewish converts, he could not have said what he did to Peter in Galatians 2.14” (Wright 2013: 1429, 1440). See Rudolph (2016a: 46–53) for an interpretation of Gal. 2:14 that makes room for a Torah-observant Paul. 34. See Rudolph (2016a: 59–73). Some argue that Paul did not teach Jesus-believing Jews to stop keeping the law but only to regard its requirements as superfluous now that Christ had come. However, if Paul taught that Jewish law was a matter of indifference then the Acts 21:21 rumor would have been true, “For anyone who stayed by the letter and spirit of the law, Paul’s regarding some of its requirements as matters of indifference, his treating as optional things that the law laid down as obligatory, must in itself have constituted ‘apostasy from Moses’” (Bruce 1988: 406). Cf. Wright (2013: 359). By contrast, Luke clarifies in Acts 21:17-26 that the rumor of Paul’s apostasy was false. 35. Markus Bockmuehl, personal correspondence, June 3, 2006.

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Esler, P. F. (1987), Community and Gospel in Luke-Acts: The Social and Political Motivations of Lucan Theology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fuller, M. E. (2006), The Restoration of Israel: Israel’s Re-gathering and the Fate of the Nations in Early Jewish Literature and Luke-Acts, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Gane, R. E. (2008), “ The Function of the Nazirite’s Concluding Purification Offering,” in B. J. Schwartz, D. P. Wright, J. Stackert, and N. S. Meshel (eds.), Perspectives on Purity and Purification in the Bible, 9–17, London: T&T Clark International. Ganser-Kerperin, H. (2000), Das Zeugnis des Tempels. Studien zur Bedeutung des Tempelmotivs im Lukanischen Doppelwerk, Münster: Aschendorff. Gowler, D. B. (1991), Host, Guest, Enemy and Friend: Portraits of the Pharisees in Luke and Acts, New York: Peter Lang. Jervell, J. (1972), Luke and the People of God: A New Look at Luke-Acts, Minneapolis: Augsburg. Jervell, J. (1984), The Unknown Paul: Essays on Luke-Acts and Early Christian History, Minneapolis: Augsburg. Jervell, J. (1996), The Theology of the Acts of the Apostles, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Keener, C. S. (2014), Acts: An Exegetical Commentary III, Grand Rapids: Baker Academic. Kinzer, M. S. (2005), Postmissionary Messianic Judaism: Redefining Christian Engagement with the Jewish People, Grand Rapids: Brazos. Koet, B. J. (1996), “Why did Paul shave his hair (Acts 18, 18)? Nazirate and Temple in the book of Acts,” in M. Poorthuis and Ch. Safrai (eds.), The Centrality of Jerusalem: Historical Perspectives, 129–42, Kampen: Kok Pharos. Koet, B. J. (2000), “Purity and Impurity of the Body in Luke-Acts,” in M. J. H. M. Poorthuis and J. Schwartz (eds.), Purity and Holiness: The Heritage of Leviticus, 93–106, Leiden: Brill. Kratz, R. (1993), “φυλάσσω,” in H. Balz and G. Schneider (eds.), Exegetical Dictionary of the New Testament 3, 442, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Le Cornu, H. with J. Shulam (2003), A Commentary on the Jewish Roots of Acts II, Jerusalem: Academon. Louw, J. P. and E. A. Nida, eds (1989), Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament Based on Semantic Domains, 2nd ed., New York: United Bible Societies. Lüdemann, G. (1989), Opposition to Paul in Jewish Christianity, trans. M. Eugene Boring, Minneapolis: Fortress. Originally published as Paulus, der Heidenapostel II, Antipaulinismus im frühen Christentum, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1983. Lüdemann, G. (1996), Heretics: The Other Side of Early Christianity, trans. J. Bowden, Louisville: Westminster John Knox. Originally published as Ketzer. Die andere Seite des frühen Christentums, Stuttgart: Radius-Verlag, 1995. Marguerat, D. (2009), “Paul and the Torah in the Acts of the Apostles,” in M. Tait and P. Oakes (eds.), Torah in the New Testament: Papers Delivered at the ManchesterLausanne Seminar of June 2008, 98–117, London: T&T Clark International. Marshall, I. H. (1980), Acts, Tyndale New Testament Commentaries, Leicester: InterVarsity. Metzger, B. (1975), A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, London: United Bible Societies. Metzger, B. (1989), The Canon of the New Testament: Its Origin, Development, and Significance, Oxford: Clarendon. Miller, C. A. (1994), “The Relationship of Jewish and Gentile Believers to the Law between A.D. 30 and 70 in the Scripture,” PhD diss., Dallas: Dallas Theological Seminary.

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Nanos, M. D. and M. Zetterholm, eds (2015), Paul within Judaism: Restoring the First-Century Context to the Apostle, Minneapolis: Fortress. Neusner, J. (1999), “Vow-Taking, the Nazirites, and the Law: Does James’ Advice to Paul Accord with Halakhah?” in B. Chilton and C. A. Evans (eds.), James the Just and Christian Origins, 59–82, Leiden: Brill. Oliver, I. W. (2013), Torah Praxis after 70 CE: Reading Matthew and Luke-Acts as Jewish Texts, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Oliver, I. W. (2016), “The First ‘Radical Perspective’ on Paul: The Calling of Paul in the Acts of the Apostles,” Paper delivered at the Seventh Nangeroni Meeting on the Early Reception of Paul the Second Temple Jew, Rome. Parsons, M. C., and M. M. Culy (2003), Acts: A Handbook on the Greek Text, Waco: Baylor University Press. Pervo, R. I. (2006), Dating Acts: Between the Evangelists and the Apologists, Santa Rosa: Polebridge. Rius-Camps, J., and J. Read-Heimerdinger (2007), The Message of Acts in Codex Bezae: A Comparison with the Alexandrian Tradition III, London: T&T Clark. Ross, J. M. (1992), “The Extra Words in Acts 18:21,” Novum Testamentum 34: 247–49. Rudolph, D. (2002), “Paul and the Torah According to Luke,” Kesher 14: 61–73. Rudolph, D. (2005), “Messianic Jews and Christian Theology: Restoring an Historical Voice to the Contemporary Discussion,” Pro Ecclesia 14 (1): 58–84. Rudolph, D. (2010), “Paul’s ‘Rule in All the Churches’ (1 Cor 7:17–24) and Torah-Defined Ecclesiological Variegation,” Studies in Christian-Jewish Relations 5: 1–23. Rudolph, D. (2016a), A Jew to the Jews: Jewish Contours of Pauline Flexibility in 1 Corinthians 9:19–23, 2nd ed., Eugene: Pickwick. Originally published by Mohr Siebeck, 2011. Rudolph, D. (2016b), “Paul and the Food Laws: A Reassessment of Romans 14:14, 20,” in C. A. Segovia and G. Boccaccini (eds.), Paul the Jew: A Conversation between Pauline and Second Temple Scholars, 151–81, Minneapolis: Fortress. Salo, K. (1991), Luke’s Treatment of the Law: A Redaction-Critical Investigation, Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia. Sanders, E. P. (2015), Paul: The Apostle’s Life, Letters, and Thought, Minneapolis: Fortress. Schellenberg, R. S. (2015), “The First Pauline Chronologist? Paul’s Itinerary in the Letters and in Acts,” Journal of Biblical Literature 134: 193–213. Smiles, V. M. (2002), “The Concept of ‘Zeal’ in Second-Temple Judaism and Paul’s Critique of it in Romans 10:2,” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 2: 282–99. Spencer, F. S. (1997), Acts, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Strange, W. A. (1992), The Problem of the Text of Acts, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tannehill, R. C. (1990), The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts: A Literary Interpretation. Volume 2: The Acts of the Apostles, Minneapolis: Fortress. Tannehill, R. C. (2005), The Shape of Luke’s Story: Essays on Luke–Acts, Eugene: Cascade. Thiessen, M. (2011), Contesting Conversion: Genealogy, Circumcision, and Identity in Ancient Judaism and Christianity, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Thiessen, M. (2016), Paul and the Gentile Problem, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Tomes, R. (1995), “Why Did Paul Get His Hair Cut? [Acts 18.18; 21.23–24],” in C. M. Tuckett (ed.), Luke’s Literary Achievement: Collected Essays, 188–97, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Tyson, J. B. (2006), Marcion and Luke-Acts: A Defining Struggle, Columbia: University of South Carolina Press.

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Walker, W. O. (1985), “Acts and the Pauline Corpus Reconsidered,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 24: 3–23. Wehnert, J. (1997), Die Reinheit des christlichen Gottesvolkes aus Juden und Heiden: Studien zum historischen und theologischen Hintergrund des sogenannten Aposteldekrets, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Wright, N. T. (2013), Paul and the Faithfulness of God I & II, Minneapolis: Fortress. Wyschogrod, M. (2004), Abraham’s Promise: Judaism and Jewish-Christian Relations, R. Kendall Soulen (ed.), Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Zerwick, M., and M. Grosvenor (1996), A Grammatical Analysis of the Greek New Testament, 5th Rev. ed., Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico.

Part V M ARCION AND THE R ECEPTION OF P AUL THE S ECOND T EMPLE J EW

Chapter 15 MARCION, PAUL, AND THE JEWS Judith M. Lieu

That Marcion was among the key interpreters of Paul in the second century requires no defense: some would argue that he was the key interpreter, by whom subsequent interpretations were shaped, even if through opposition. At the same time, Marcion is popularly understood to have rejected the “Old Testament,” restricting himself to, or even instigating, the sole authority of an alternative canonical corpus in which Paul figured prominently, whether or not he coined the specific terminology of “New Testament.” Hence, the term “Marcionite” has come to be used of positions that pay little attention to the “Old Testament” or reject it outright, even without reference to Marcion himself or to any of the distinctive aspects of his system. These two principles alone provoke a number of questions around which there is far less consensus: what was his initial starting point—his Pauline heritage or his distaste for the “Old Testament”? Or are both secondary to a system that was founded on philosophical principles, perhaps encompassing his participation within the contested ideology of “Gnosticism”?1 If his starting point was distaste for the Jewish Scriptures, is he to be located within an earlier trajectory of debates about the status of the Jewish Scriptures, as, for example, represented by Barnabas (Moll 2010: 135–58)? If he began with a reading of Paul, was that interpretation unprecedented or a natural development of a prior trajectory? Are there grounds for judging it to be a logical extension of Paul’s thought (although not necessarily of his intention) or can it be shown to be entirely perverse and misconceived?2 Attention to his Pauline debt might seem inevitably to bring “the Jews” into the equation: hence, was Marcion’s supposed denigration of the “Jewish Scriptures” directly combined with a negative estimation of “the Jews” as a people, whether that be in principle as those with a past and arguably a continuing claim to God’s favor, or in conscious hostility to a neighboring religious competitor?

1. See the nuanced discussion by Aland (1973). 2. Discussion of all these issues, and more detailed analysis of the topics covered in this chapter, can be found in Lieu (2015).

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The debate does not end with Marcion’s own position but also extends to its wider consequences, both immediately and within the development of Christian thought. Thus, it has been argued that Marcion effectively prompted the (“protoorthodox”) church to retain the “Old Testament,” something that they were only able to do, on the one hand, by denying its “literal” meaning and appealing instead to allegorical exegesis, and, on the other, by denigrating the Jews for failing to recognize its intended true purport, and hence denying them any authentic access that they may once have had to it (Wilson 1995: 220–21). At the same time, it has been suggested that subsequent interpretation of Paul was mediated through mechanisms that protected him from further “Marcionite” interpretation, namely, through the production and then the interpretation of additional “Pauline” works such as the Pastoral Epistles and the Acts of the Apostles, and through the bracketing of his letters with others ascribed to the other apostles (James, Peter, and John), whom Marcion supposedly denigrated, and in so doing creating an authoritative hermeneutical frame, the “New Testament” (e.g., Tyson 2006).There can be no doubt that the broad picture has proved an attractive enduring one, which has not been unduly disturbed by the areas of debate signaled above. It owes much to the magisterial study of Adolf von Harnack and to his conclusion, “It was also Marcion as an individual who with remarkable energy first undertook by means of this understanding of Christianity to unite the scattered communities into a tight unity, into an actual church and thereby to protect it from again becoming dissolved into the contemporary currents and in Judaism” (1924: 212), even if not all who accept much of his reconstruction share his obvious sympathies.

Recovering Marcion Despite the recent explosion of attempts to reconstruct “Marcion’s Gospel” and “Apostolikon” (Roth 2015; Schmid 1995), it remains the case that any attempts at recovering his teaching have to depend on those who polemicized against him, for the most part the heresiologists (in particular Irenaeus, Tertullian, (Ps.) Hippolytus, and Epiphanius), although he also figures frequently as a negative example in exegetical and other works. Unsurprisingly, while there is a broad consensus among these, they have no serious interest in explaining the origins of Marcion’s thought or its inner logic, and apparent attempts to do so serve their own polemical agendas. The earliest reference to Marcion by Justin Martyr describes him only as one who posited a God other than and superior to the Creator: Justin makes no explicit mention of any use by him of Paul—to whom Justin himself does not refer—or of his treatment of the Scriptures (1 Apol. 26.5; 58.1-2).3 While the central theme of “another God” over against the denigrated Creator (or “Demiurge”) remains the most constant core of all accounts of

3. Some have argued that Justin’s Dialogue implicitly attacks Marcion.

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Marcion’s teaching, the roots of what will become the conventional picture partly sketched above can already be discovered in Irenaeus’s Against Heresies. As well as an initial account of Marcion’s teaching (Adv. Haer. I.27), Irenaeus makes further repeated reference to him, in particular in regard to the status of Paul, and also of the “Law”—although he does not spell out in clear detail how these two important themes are interrelated. For example, he follows his defense of the unity of God against those who posit an inferior Creator with a further attack against “all those of evil intent, provoked away from the giving of the law (legisdatio) according to Moses, thinking it to be dissimilar and contrary to the teaching of the Gospel,” and “who claim to be more honest and wise than the Apostles, whose opinions still followed those of the Jews”; among these he includes Marcion and his followers “who only acknowledged the authority of the Gospel according to Luke and the Letters of Paul, which they cut about.” It is then reasonable to suppose that the Marcionites are still in mind, if not exclusively so, when he proceeds to castigate those who assert that “Paul alone knew the truth, when the mystery was made known to him through revelation” (Adv. Haer. III.12.12; 13.1). It is Tertullian’s extensive offensive in the five books Against Marcion that has contributed most to conventional accounts of Marcion but also to provoking a number of the questions with which we started. Tertullian’s Marcion is a complex and inconsistent figure—inconsistent both because Tertullian’s own account of Marcion’s starting point shifts to suit the former’s argument, but also because inconsistency is a primary accusation that the latter seeks to level both against the heretic and against his deity. Although Tertullian starts his offensive from the philosophical problematic of two deities (each occupying their own divine space), a pervasive shorthand is the separation between “Law and Gospel,” which Tertullian early on insists “is the characteristic and chief work of Marcion” (Adv. Marc. I.19.4). He proceeds to claim that this work, perhaps in written form and labeled “antitheses,” is “contrasted oppositions which attempt to establish the disparity of Gospel with Law, in order that they might also demonstrate a diversity of Gods from the diversity of principles (sententiae) of each document (instrumentum)” (ibid.; cf. 21.5). Already here the question of the logical priority between the “diversity of Gods” and the separation between principles or between “documents” is absorbed into a closed circle. Subsequently he attributes to Marcion a separation between “the Christ who came” and the Christ of Jewish hope that was “as great and complete an opposition as between just and good”—the epithets elsewhere attributed to the two deities—“as between Law and Gospel, as between Judaism and Christianity” (IV.6.3). Tertullian indicates more clearly the pivotal role that appeals to Paul played in the argument: Marcion’s followers supposedly asserted that “the separation of Law and Gospel” on which they insisted was not an innovation but a restoration of what had been previously corrupted, apparently appealing to, and conflating, Paul’s rebuke of Peter and the attempt by “false brothers” to “transfer the Galatians to another Gospel” (I.20: Gal. 1:6; 2:4, 14). Therefore, in his detailed discussion of Marcion’s “Apostolikon” in Book Five, he sets out to defend his own reading of Paul as much as to undermine that by Marcion, in order to demonstrate that “the apostle is mine just as Christ is mine”

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(Adv. Marc. V.1.8). Since all his effort will be given to this positive task, rather than to any serious debate, his account has to be read, as also elsewhere, with a thoroughgoing analytical hermeneutic of suspicion; his undoubted rhetorically defended principles and powerful argumentative skills shape everything he says, including the words he puts in the mouth of his opponent. Any effort to hear Marcion’s own voice must continually engage in the effort to listen to and behind Tertullian’s own controlling voice.

Marcion and the Epistolary Paul While this might lead to a counsel of despair and to the suspicion that Marcion will prove to be as phantasmal as Tertullian claimed was Marcion’s Christ, it is possible to move forward, at least to a “plausible Marcion.” Evidently, he knew Paul from his letters (ten); he almost certainly was unaware of the Pastoral Epistles, or of the Acts of the Apostles, despite later claims that he had excised these. There is little evidence that he was familiar with other traditions about Paul’s activities: not only can everything that he is credited to have claimed about Paul be drawn from the letters, but it would appear that his primary method was not the creation of a new narrative (like the Acts of Paul) or pseudo-Pauline writing (like 3 Corinthians), but to read the letters as narrative within a particular interpretive framework. Moreover, what is striking when set against other early second-century readers of Paul is that in so doing he treated the letters as a coherent corpus, the label apostolikon matching that for his other authoritative text, euangelion, although whether he treated them as of equivalent authority is unknown. Whether Marcion received the letters as a collection, either from a Christian group in the region from which he came, Pontus or Rome, or whether he was himself responsible for forming the collection either de novo or from one or more earlier collections is a matter of debate. Despite the undoubted earlier evidence for knowledge of one or more of Paul’s letters in a number of centers, the process by which the collection was formed, whether from individual letters in a single step (excluding the Pastorals) or in stages, remains a matter of hypothesis. Similarly, scholarship is divided as to whether he was responsible for his distinctive order of the letters, with Galatians as first, reflecting its importance for his understanding of Paul, followed by 1 and 2 Corinthians and then Romans, or whether he inherited this sequence, for which there is some limited other evidence (Lieu 2015: 234–42; Schmid 1995: 284–98).4 These uncertainties as to how far Marcion innovated or made changes to what he received are equally applicable to his text of Paul’s letters: the classical charge, following that of the heresiologists, that he made substantive changes and omissions in favor of his own teaching has been considerably modified by the demonstration that many of these are more widely attested within

4. The so-called Marcionite Latin Prologues to the Letters play an important role in the debate but cannot be analyzed here.

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the textual tradition. There is a growing consensus that locates Marcion’s text broadly within the spectrum of textual diversity of the period and also recognizes that even if he did undertake his own “revisions,” as still seems probable, he would not have been alone in so doing.

Reading Paul As already noted, in contrast to the earlier tendency to use Paul’s letters as a source of proof texts for moral or perhaps doctrinal points, Marcion would seem to have read them holistically or intertextually, drawing links between themes and references in different letters to create (or support) a sustained narrative encompassing both the story of Paul and a quasi-“salvation history.” It is clear from Tertullian, with the support of other sources, that the importance of Galatians lay in Paul’s vigorous defense, already in Chapter 1, of the truth of the Gospel against those who might seek to pervert it (Gal. 1:7-9, 11). It also seems certain that this lay behind Marcion’s production of “his Gospel,” which his opponents identified in some way with the Gospel of Luke, although quite how and why he identified the Gospel to which Paul refers with the written text he knew and edited is less straightforward: there is little explicit to suggest that he identified “his” Gospel with an associate of Paul. However, equally important was the elision of those responsible for “perverting the Gospel” and for provoking so much threatening opposition against Paul with the “false brothers” (Gal. 2:4), probably “false apostles” in Marcion’s reading (cf. 2 Cor. 11:13-14), and directly or indirectly with Peter and his associates, who were contravening the truth of the Gospel (Gal. 2:13-14).Marcion was not alone, and was probably not the first, to find the conflict portrayed in Galatians 2 a source of concern, and to extrapolate from it a sustained polarization between Paul and Peter and/or James, which might still require later readers to take sides. Irenaeus had already appealed to Acts 15 to demonstrate the unity of intent between Paul and the other apostles, and in turn defending the Acts of the Apostles played an important role in his presentation of Paul (Adv. Haer. III.12.14–13.3). Tertullian’s development of this defensive argument and his repeated reference to it undoubtedly reflect the sensitivity of the issue, although it probably also helped frame his interpretation of the issue as pertaining to “obedience to the Law of Moses” (Acts 15:5). According to Marcion, again following Tertullian’s suggestive protests, Paul had been called by God the Father—an epithet that the “superior God” of Justin’s account had acquired already in Irenaeus’s account—whose home was in the third heaven (Gal. 1:1; 2 Cor. 12:1-4; Adv. Marc. I.15.1; V.1.3). Unsurprisingly, he was opposed by the Demiurge, identified in 2 Cor. 4:4 as “the God of this age [who] has blinded the minds of believers” (V.11.9–13). Again, Marcion would not be the first to exploit this punctuation of the verse: Irenaeus had already rejected it in more general terms (Adv. Haer. III.7.1–2). At least some of Tertullian’s insinuations that Marcion identified the presence of the same figure elsewhere in Paul’s letters seem likely, in particular behind references to “the” or “this world” (1 Cor. 1:21; 4:9; 2 Cor. 3:14 [reading “minds of the world”]), but also at other points over which

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commentators continue to puzzle (Gal. 4:8). It was this figure who ultimately could be held responsible for the false turn taken by Peter and his associates and for the perversion of the Gospel by one who might even masquerade as “an angel from heaven” (Gal. 1:8; cf. 2 Cor. 12:2-7; 11:14). As some of the cross references given above might hint, given more space it would be possible to expand Marcion’s reading of Paul’s letters in a number of directions, toward his understanding of Christ, of the nature of salvation, and of the calling of those who rightly believe. Certainly, there is an evident intersection between Marcion’s schema of Superior God versus Demiurge and that of other so-called Gnostic thinkers of the period; however, through his appeal to Paul, or discovery of him, this is embedded within a specific story of the church and of the claim to possess the truth for more than an elite.5

The Demiurge and His Record It seems unlikely that Marcion could have achieved any characterization of the Demiurge entirely from Paul’s letters: the diverse passages and exegesis required indicate that he found what he was already looking for, but which he had learned elsewhere. The consistent picture generally in Tertullian’s work as well as in other authors on Marcion is that the Demiurge or Creator is to be identified with the God who is described in the Scriptures: it is the Scriptures that provide the evidence for almost every aspect of the character of this God. He is a “judge, fierce and warlike,” congenitally inconsistent, given to changing his mind, responsible for evil, unreliable in his demands, unaccountable for his decisions and acts of judgment, unable to hide his ignorance, enamored of retribution, committed to the imposition of the law but rendering humankind incapable of its observance while still liable for the least infringement (Adv. Marc. I.6; II.5; 21; 23–24). All these failings were easily illustrated from the Scriptures; in fact many of the key passages quoted are already found as interpretative problems both in earlier authors as well as in subsequent apologetic and exegesis, both Jewish and Christian. Where Marcion may have innovated was in opposing them to examples of Jesus’s acts and teaching of virtue, which reflected the goodness of the Father who sent him. It was this that underlay Marcion’s “antitheses” to which Tertullian drew attention (see above, p. 211).

Law and Gospel Tertullian expresses, and attributes to Marcion, this diversity as being between “Law and Gospel” (Adv. Marc. I.19.2; IV.6.3 quoted above). It is not therefore surprising that many interpreters have echoed von Harnack’s explanation, even

5. See May (2005).

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if they have attempted to avoid the ambiguity as to how far his own sympathies extended: “The starting point of M’s criticism cannot be missed in the tradition: it was provided in the Pauline opposition of Law and Gospel, malevolent, petty, and cruel penal justice on the one hand and compassionate love on the other” (1924: 30). There are here several layers of rhetoric that must be carefully differentiated: first, the talismanic rhetoric of “Law and Gospel” in the interpretation of Paul within the Protestant tradition, which has its own history and which is still often applied as a general hermeneutical principle even in contexts where it is not supported by Paul’s explicit language; second, Tertullian’s own preference for antithetical rhetoric, and in particular the resonances of both terms more broadly in his theology and in his understanding of Jesus and Paul; third, his identification of this as a foundational opposition in Marcion’s thought as it was available to him, and the meaning he found therein; fourth, the actual place of these terms in Marcion’s own system and in his reading of Paul as well as of the Gospel; fifth, the extent to which they were already current in early Christian thought, whether or not associated with Paul, and with what points of reference; and last, the place of these terms, individually as well as systematically, within Paul’s own writings. Each of these stages has its own historical and theological context, and it cannot be assumed, as it too often has been, that there is continuity between them or any equivalence through “recovery” between any two. For the present purposes it is important that Tertullian himself found the opposition a congenial one: “therefore both the destruction of the Law and the building up of the Gospel serve my cause in this letter also” (Adv. Marc. V.2.2, with reference to Galatians). Similarly, he describes the apostles as “turning aside from Judaism, when they exchanged the obligations and burdens of the law for the liberty of the Gospel,” and claims that “the whole issue at stake is this, whether the law of the creator should be excluded from the Gospel in the creator’s Christ” (III.22.3; V.2.3). Tertullian has no doubts that there is a difference, but for him it is a difference of “discipline,” not a difference of deities, as was deduced by his opponent. The repeated attention he gives to this distinction in his writings against Marcion certainly suggests that he recognized it as pivotal for the nature of the Christian message; however, as is so often the case in any polemic, that may in part be because it also exposed vulnerabilities in his own thought. In earlier writings Tertullian had already explored various forms of contrast between the Gospel and Law, and between what was new and the language of “old,” often associated with law and with prophets, and he had presented the latter as a stage, now surpassed, toward the former (Orat. 1.1; Adv.Herm. 20.4; 22.3; Corona 11.1; Pudic. 12.1; Virg. 1.10; Bray 1979: 111–23). While he addresses the contrast much more extensively in Against Marcion, that is likely because the language and thought of his opponent forced him to a clearer articulation of his own understanding. It would not be surprising if in so doing he picked on the evocative shorthand “Law and Gospel” more systematically than his sources warranted. Moreover, in his own context it could also be extended to new points of reference; thus, he can use “Law and Gospel” in different frameworks stretching from “document” or covenant/testament through to articulation of discipline.

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Part of this extended framework must be the associated opposition “as between Law and Gospel, as between Judaism and Christianity” (Adv. Marc. IV.6.3). The second pair is not found as such elsewhere in Tertullian’s writings, and the individual terms are rare, perhaps suggesting that he was here adopting a polarity he found in Marcion’s own writings. Yet it was not one Tertullian rejected out of hand: “We also claim Galatians as a primary letter against Judaism” (V.2.1); he himself describes Paul as having turned away from Judaism, and he at least agreed, if he did not coin the phrase, that he was “the destroyer of Judaism” (V.1.8; 5.1). Again, this may well have prompted him to extend the model beyond where he found it in his opponent: it is unlikely that Marcion would have agreed that the apostles in general “turned aside from Judaism when they exchanged the obligations and burdens of the law for the liberty of the Gospel”—this is Tertullian’s own formulation (III.22.3). In his own explanation of Gal. 1–2 against that of Marcion, it is Tertullian who portrays Paul as initially acting as an overzealous neophyte against Judaism, but subsequently moderating his behavior to a more pragmatic policy, ready to “act for the Jews as if a Jew and for those under the law as if in law” (I.20.3: 1 Cor. 9:20-22). Yet even Tertullian uses this to distance Paul from anything Jewish—the “as if ” implies “but not in reality.” Hence, recovering how Marcion used these terms, and how dominant the polarity between them was in his thought, does not simply involve a degree of mirror-reading; it demands an act of imagination as to the resonances the language may have carried half a century earlier than Tertullian, in Greek, in a broader theological environment that is lost to us. The importance of Galatians as supplying a narrative of the corruption of the Gospel has already been noted, and it was, of course, this letter that supplied him with the term “Judaism,” whether or not also mediated through any other Christian usage (Gal. 1:13-14).6 Equally, only through the lens of interpretation do these terms generate a hendiadic polarity: Paul does not know “Christianity” or any other antithetical term to “Judaism,” and, while “Law” (especially in the phrase “works of ”) is important in Galatians, it is not brought into direct contrast with “Gospel.” Although to our ears this may seem a rather wooden quibble, it remains to be shown that it would not have been so in a second-century context. I have argued elsewhere that there is little evidence prior to Marcion for “Law and Gospel” as a self-evident pairing (Lieu 2015: 398– 406). There is also good reason to conclude that for Marcion Lk. 16:16-18 may have played some role of catalyst here, prompting Tertullian to return to it in his explanation of Galatians (Adv. Marc. V.2.1; cf. IV.33.6–9). If this is so, then “Law” is being understood in a very different sense from that popularly ascribed to Paul; it does not signify part of the dialectic of how humankind can properly respond to God, so much as represent the period and constitution exercised under the Demiurge. It is noteworthy that when discussing this passage Tertullian himself

6. The two terms are found in antithetical relationship in Ignatius, Magn. 10.3 and Philad. 6.1, but how these might relate to Marcion’s use is obscured by uncertainties regarding the date and authenticity of the Ignatian corpus.

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speaks approvingly of the cessation of Judaism and of the law and the prophets, as also of the initiation of Christianity and of the Gospel (Adv. Marc. IV.33.8). This is not to deny that Marcion identified the question of adherence to the Law as fundamental to Paul’s message and to his dispute with Peter in Galatians 2. It also seems likely that he saw the other apostles, whom Paul labels “Jew[s]” in Gal. 2:13-14, as entrammeled in “Judaism.” Tertullian’s claim that Marcion accused the other apostles of being “too close to Judaism,” and ascribed the corruption of the Gospel to “the protectors of Judaism” may, for once, be reliable (III.6.10; 22.3). This suggests that to the extent the realm of the Law and hence of Judaism was that of the Demiurge, then the other apostles were laboring under deceptions imposed by the Demiurge. On the other hand, it would seem that for Marcion Paul had severed any associations he may have had with “Judaism,” although this was “Judaism” as Marcion understood it, and not as a pattern of religious belonging as in more recent interpretation of Paul: Tertullian’s defense that what Paul counted loss referred not to the God but to the obtuseness of the Jews (Phil. 3:5-8) suggests that for Marcion Paul’s conversion was a rejection of the God he had worshipped prior to the unprecedented revelation of Christ and his calling by the Father God (V.20.6).7 Yet Tertullian’s own only concern is to defend the unity of God, not the continuity of Paul’s self-identification: his rebuttal of the unprecedented “suddenness” of Paul’s calling asserted by Marcion is to appeal to its anticipation in prophecy, in Gen. 49:27, the “ravenous wolf ” from Benjamin (cf. Phil. 3:5), and in the story of Saul’s conversion toward David (1 Sam. 24:18; Adv. Marc. V.1.5–6). As for Paul’s fraught “Jewish” identity, there is no evidence of what, if anything, Marcion read between Rom. 8:12 and 10:1 (including Paul’s pain for his “brethren” in 9:1-5), and between 10:5 and 11:32: Tertullian implies that a great gulf had been excised, although he, too, elsewhere, makes little use of these chapters (Dunn 2013: 95–96). Marcion’s text did, according to Tertullian, include Rom. 10:2-4, but he took it to mean that they were ignorant of the superior God, probably on the basis of a version of verse 3 that read “not knowing God” (V.14.6–8).8

Marcion, the Jews, and Paul If Marcion, like his followers, believed that they were restoring that which had been lost, namely, the proclamation by Jesus and by his apostle Paul, of the Father God who had deposed the apparent rule of the Demiurge, then it is likely that they identified in the church of their own time the continuing effect of the failure of the other apostles and behind it the nefarious activity of the Demiurge. “Judaism” for Marcion, then, was to be found not outside but within the church; if he sought to

7. Tertullian’s summary statement gives no hint as to how Marcion read Gal. 1:13-14. 8. Schmid (1995: 139–40) allows for the possibility that the abbreviation is to be ascribed to Tertullian, to match his proof-text, Isa. 1:3.

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remove all traces of Judaism, it would be “Judaism” as he identified it in the practice and theology of the church. Undoubtedly this included rejecting any identification of the God of the Scriptures with the Father to whom faith was to be directed, and any attempt to demonstrate that the Christ sent by the Father had already been anticipated within the writings associated with the Creator. On the other hand, it is only in fourth-century sources that Marcion’s Demiurge is explicitly named “the God of the Jews,” and this is more likely to be an innovation by his ecclesiastical opponents. Moreover, what actual practices were also implicated is not obvious: there is little evidence that circumcision, food and purity practices, and Sabbath observance were of any concern to him, and they may not have been points of contention in the circles in which he moved. Although mocked for inconsistency, he did not reject ascetic rigorism or martyrdom as submission to the control of the Demiurge. If the theological role of “the Jews” in Marcion’s system is opaque, so too is any awareness he may have had of Jewish communities either in Pontus or in Rome. There is little to support Tertullian’s attempt to portray the heretic as an ally of the Jews, derivative from the latter, “the blind leading the blind” (Adv. Marc. III.7). This charge is simply the consequence of Marcion’s refusal, as represented by Tertullian, to recognize in the Scriptures any form of anticipation of the Christ who has already come or of the experiences of the church. Some have concluded from Tertullian’s assertions that Marcion did indeed take seriously the place and the claims of the Jews, affirming their right to interpret the Scriptures and affirming the Scriptures as theirs to interpret. In the words of Joseph Hoffmann, which are far more multivocal than he probably intended, and which he offered as a historical judgment, “the error remains fundamentally a Jewish heresy” (Hoffmann 1984: 307, italics original). It has even been hypothesized that Marcion himself may have been a born Jew, however moved to hostility against his own heritage.9 Such conclusions take at too much face value Tertullian’s polemical strategies, including his incorporation into Book Three of an earlier incomplete work “Against the Jews” (Dunn 2008). Tarred with each other’s brush, the unholy alliance between the Jews and Marcion is a device constructed by Tertullian to reinforce his own reading of the Scriptures. Tertullian’s assertions that Marcion allowed them their “Judaic Christ” and final millennial rule as promised by the Demiurge is likewise as much, if not more, the logical extension of Tertullian’s own polemic as it is necessary to Marcion’s scheme. Geoffrey Dunn’s comment is equally valid for both Marcion and for Tertullian: “The fate of the Jews was irrelevant to the discussion and rarely the object of comment” (Dunn 2013: 97). Where later Christians, including Tertullian, saw an affinity between Marcion and “the Jews” as they projected them was that Marcion’s reading of the Scriptures seems largely to have avoided the sort of allegorical interpretations that recovered them for positive Christian use, although, contrary to the charges against him, he

9. Harnack (1924: 330–31) suggests that like Paul Marcion was close to Judaism but underwent an even more radical break than Paul. There is nothing to support this suggestion.

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did undoubtedly accept forms of typological interpretation, especially when so guided by Paul. That he “rejected the Old Testament” is, therefore, something of an oversimplification; it did indeed provide the curriculum vitae of the Demiurge, and so to some extent remained necessary for his system. Despite the connections between Marcion’s criticisms of the Scriptures and other discussions of disputed passages in Jewish as well as Christian authors, it is impossible to demonstrate any direct lines of contact. Again, as I have suggested elsewhere, such connections could well emerge in the “school” setting of Rome and the characteristic analysis of authoritative texts from the past, in which all intellectual, religious and/or philosophical, groups participated. From a later scholarly vantage point Marcion’s reception of Paul appears without precedent. His concern is not the faithfulness of God to the covenantal promises, or the place of the Gentiles in the people formed by God. It is quite evident that his intellectual framework and agenda are entirely different from those of his hero— although to a considerable extent so too are those of his opponent, Tertullian. Insofar as that is true of all subsequent interpreters, it does not of itself disqualify his reading of Paul from serious attention. The criteria by which any subsequent readings of Paul (or any author) are judged justifiable—which may not be the same as acceptable—is a question for another day.

References Aland, B. (1973), “Marcion: Versuch einer neuen Interpretation,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 70: 420–47. Bray, G. L. (1979), Holiness and the Will of God: Perspectives on the Theology of Tertullian, London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott. Dunn, G. (2008), Tertullian’s Adversus Iudaeos: A Rhetorical Analysis, Washington DC: Catholic University of America Press. Dunn, G. (2013), “Tertullian, Paul, and the Nation of Israel,” in T. D. Still and D. E. Wilhite (eds.), Pauline and Patristic Scholars in Debate, vol. 1, 79–97, New York: Bloomsbury. Harnack, A. (1924), Marcion: Das Evangelium vom Fremden Gott; eine Monographie zur Geschichte der Grundlegung der katholischen Kirche, 2nd corrected edition printed with Neue Studien zu Marcion, Leipzig: Hinrichs. Hoffmann, R. J. (1984), Marcion: On the Restitution of Christianity, Chico, CA: Scholars Press. Lieu, J. M. (2015), Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. May, G. (2005), “Marcion in seiner Zeit,” in K. Greschat and M. Meiser (eds.), Gerhard May: Markion. Gesammelte Aufsätze, 1–12, Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Moll, S. (2010), The Arch-Heretic Marcion, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Roth, D. (2015), The Text of Marcion’s Gospel, Leiden: Brill. Schmid, U. (1995), Marcion und sein Apostolos: Eine Rekonstruktion und historische Einordnung der marcionitischen Paulusbriefaufgabe, Berlin: de Gruyter. Tyson, J. B. (2006), Marcion and Luke-Acts: A Defining Struggle, Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press. Wilson, S. G. (1995), Related Strangers: Jews and Christians 70–170 C.E., Minneapolis: Fortress Press.

Chapter 16 PAUL’S PROBLEMATIC RELATION TO JUDAISM IN THE SENECA-PAUL ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE (SECOND CENTURY CE?) Ilaria L. E. Ramelli

The Seneca-Paul pseudepigraphic correspondence,1 preserved in Latin among Seneca’s works, has been shown to be a composite document (Ramelli 2014a). Its original core of twelve letters may be as early as the second century CE and related to Marcionism, while Eps. 11 (=12 Barlow 1938) and 14 were added later (Ramelli 1997a; 2013a; 2014a) and reflect a different viewpoint on Paul’s relation to Judaism and on Jewish-Christian relations. I investigate here how Paul’s relation to Judaism is represented in the correspondence’s original layer—to be distinguished from subsequent layers. I point out the problematic relation that emerges there between Paul and Judaism, whereas in the correspondence’s later strata this relation is represented very differently. This reinforces the hypothesis that the earlier correspondence’s perspective was informed by Marcionism. Both the conflict between Paul and Judaism and the absence of the “Pastorals” from the Pauline corpus are common to Marcion and this correspondence, a relation which needs a thorough reassessment. This bears not only on early Christian literature, but also, specifically, on the formation of the Pauline corpus, the early reception of Paul as Jew, and Paul’s relation to Judaism, which is the object of ongoing debate (e.g., Campbell 2016). The letter that purports to be dated to 64 CE, Ep. 11 presents Jews and Christians not as opposed groups, but as Nero’s common victims, whereas in the original layer of letters Paul’s relation to Judaism is represented as problematic and a source of potential troubles with respect to Nero’s Judaizing wife, Poppaea. The arguments I adduced for the later addition of Ep. 11 relate to its position within the corpus, besides philological, historical, linguistic, and literary clues. There are linguistic differences between Ep. 11 and the other pieces in the correspondence (Ramelli 1997a; 2000). This is the only letter in the corpus that

1. On the categories of apocrypha and pseudepigrapha, see Reed (2015: 401–25).

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includes a historical impossibility concerning the dating of the fire of Rome. Moreover, in all the manuscripts in which it is preserved, it is misplaced between Ep. 10 and 12. Since Ep. 12 is clearly the reply to Ep. 10, and both are set before 64 CE, Ep. 11 was obviously added later. Also, Ep. 11 is absent from some manuscripts. In the tenth- to eleventh-century Ambrosianus, Seneca’s dialogues are followed by Jerome’s portrait of Seneca in Vir. ill. 12, added by a fourteenth-century hand, and by the Seneca-Paul correspondence, written by a previous hand but lacking Ep. 11. Seneca’s epitaph comes after the correspondence, finally followed by Ep. 11, supplied by a later hand. This letter was clearly added later. In his portrait of Seneca, Jerome observes that, in the years in which the correspondence is set, Seneca was “the most powerful man of that time” and Nero’s counselor. This cannot refer to 64 CE, when Seneca was no longer the most powerful but disgraced and condemned to death in 65 CE. Ep. 11 had not yet been added to the correspondence when Jerome was writing in 392 CE. This is the only letter of the correspondence set during 64 CE, the others (Ep. 1–9) being set during 58–62 CE. The last five (Ep. 10–14) are dated in the correspondence to 58–59 CE by ordinary consuls (Ep. 12) or suffecti (Ep. 10; 13; 14). The consuls and historical circumstances mentioned correspond to these years, which is not the case with Ep. 11. The last document dated by actual suffecti in Italy stems from 289 CE: the original layer of the correspondence seems therefore to have been composed sometime before 300 CE. Thus, even if Lactantius did not know the correspondence in the fourth century, this does not imply that it did not yet exist (Ramelli 1997a). As will be illustrated later, an investigation into NT allusions in this corpus I carried out from 2008 onward confirms the distinctiveness of Ep. 11, and the original correspondence’s connection with Marcionism—also suggested by Paul’s problematic relation to Judaism as represented in the corpus’s original layer. The letter set in 64 CE and attributed to Seneca differs from the rest on account of the sympathy it displays toward the Jews—presented as executed with the Christians on the charge of arson—and for its criticism of Nero as violent, dissolute, cunning, and responsible for the fire of Rome. It foretells Nero’s imminent death, whereas in the rest of the correspondence Nero is depicted more positively. Here Seneca, speaking of the fire and the executions of Christians that followed it on the charge of arson, states that Jews were executed together with members of the Jesus movement in Rome in 64 CE: Christiani et Iudaei quasi machinatores incendii supplicio adfecti, quod fieri solet. Tacitus (Ann. 15.44) indicates only the Christians as Nero’s scapegoats, because of the hatred they aroused due to their supposed crimes. According to Erich Gruen (in a private conversation in San Francisco, November 2011), Christians and Jews may have been executed together in Rome in 64 CE on the common charge of arson, although this is unattested by any other source apart from the present letter. The association of Jews and Christians as Nero’s common victims in our letter is all the more striking in that it is here described as recurrent (quod fieri solet). Seneca complains that Jews and Christians are unjustly held responsible for any disaster: “You are often condemned to death although innocent .  .  . because all people regard you as so terrible and culpable of crimes, convinced as they are

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that whatever unfortunate event happens in the city is due to you.” This echoes Tertullian’s complaint (“If the Tiber flows out, if the Nile does not flow out, if the sky stays immobile without rain, if the earth moves in a quake .  .  ., they immediately cry: ‘The fault is with the Christians!’”2), but Tertullian was speaking only of Christians, whereas our letter groups Jews and Christians in a common persecution, and Seneca’s address interestingly represents Paul as belonging to both groups—Jews and Christians. The rest of the correspondence reveals a different attitude toward Judaism and Paul’s relation to Judaism. This is in line with Seneca’s real attitude toward the Jews—rather negative. Seneca’s sympathy toward Judaism in Ep. 11 is at odds with Seneca’s historical position, which is correctly represented as critical in the correspondence’s original nugget. In De Superstitione, ap. Augustine CD 6.10–11, Seneca deprecates the Sabbath as encouraging idleness, calls the Jews a “most accursed people,” and complains that their customs are being “received in all lands,” so that “the conquered have given laws to the conquerors.” Seneca further criticizes the lighting of Sabbath lamps, since the gods need no illumination (Ep.  95.47), although he also addresses similar criticisms against “pagan” ceremonies and cultic customs. From the original layer of the correspondence we should remove not only Ep. 11 but also Ep. 14, which stems from a different forger, surely a Christian. It intimates Seneca’s adhesion to Christianity, while the composer of Ep. 11 opposes Seneca as “pagan” against Paul as Jewish-Christian. Here, Seneca says to Paul: “you are often condemned to death even if you are innocent” (de innocentia vestra subinde supplicium sumatur), in reference to both Christians and Jews. These two groups are represented in this letter as persecuted together, while the rest of the correspondence opposes Jews and Christians against each other, while depicting Paul as a Jew risking punishment for his defection from Judaism. The Judaizing Poppaea is described as a threat in this connection. If in Ep. 11 Seneca the “pagan” is contrasted with Paul the “Jewish-Christian,” in Ep. 14 Seneca is represented as “converting” to Christianity and Paul as a “Christian.” This reflects different negotiations of religious identities. Both Ep. 11 and 14 were added later to the original nugget, but Ep. 14 much later than Ep. 11; the main difference is that Ep. 11 casts Seneca as a “pagan,” while Ep. 14 presents him as a convert to Christianity. Indeed, the forger of late Ep. 14 was surely a Christian—the forger of Ep. 11 perhaps not necessarily. Ep. 14 occupies the last position within the correspondence, is dated to August 1, 58 CE, and ascribed to Paul, but is longer than all the other letters attributed to Paul in this corpus. It could have easily been added later, without causing an interruption between a letter and its reply, as in the case of Ep. 11. Like Ep. 11, Ep. 14 is missing from various manuscripts, including some of the most ancient ones. The name order in the opening line is Paulus Senecae salutem, while all the other letters by Paul open with Senecae Paulus salutem. Further, this is the only

2. Nat. 1.9.3; cf. Apologeticum 40.2.

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letter in which Paul addresses Seneca as carissimus. And the description of Nero as rex temporalis, as in some of the “apocryphal Acts,” differs from the rest of the correspondence, where he is princeps (Ep. 3), Augustus (Ep. 7), and Caesar (Ep. 3; 8; 9). This letter features at least one Christianism (revelare), something absent from the correspondence’s original layers.3 As noted, only this letter suggests that Seneca became a Christian. The legend of his conversion may have been inspired by this letter, which depicts him as auctor Christi Iesu at court. Paul states, “I sow in an already fertile soil a very strong seed, not at all a matter that clearly becomes corrupted, but God’s stable Logos, a derivation from the One who grows and endures forever . . . . God’s Logos, once instilled, produces a new human without corruption, an eternally living creature, which hurries from here toward God.” The legend of Seneca’s conversion is first attested in the late Middle Ages.4 Neither Tertullian, who dubbed him saepe noster because Seneca criticized “pagan” cults, nor Lactantius or other patristic authors deemed him Christian.5 Jerome included him in De viris illustribus with two other non-Christians: Philo, believed to have portrayed the first Christian Alexandrian community (Ramelli 2011a), and Josephus, included on account of a tradition he reported about James, Jesus’s brother, and a passage on Jesus.6 Jerome included Seneca because of his purported correspondence with Paul. For Augustine, Seneca was a “pagan,” who “partook in cultic acts that he criticized,” and “worshipped what he blamed.”7 The Martyrdom of Paul ascribed to Linus (second to sixth century) alludes to the Seneca-Paul letters, saying that Seneca, the emperor’s teacher, was a friend of Paul, saw in him divinam scientiam, exchanged letters with him, and read some of his writings to the emperor (1),8 but stops short of mentioning Seneca’s “conversion.” This suggests the redactor of the original Paul-Seneca correspondence did not know Ep. 14, which was likely added later. The redactor did not know Ep. 11 either, since he states that only the Christians, not the Jews, were persecuted by Nero, and not as scapegoats for the fire (7); therefore, he was probably writing before this letter was added to the corpus. Even toward the ninth century, Honorius Scholasticus (Anthologia Latina, 666) maintained that Seneca remained a “pagan,” and the Epitaphium Senecae, first attested in the ninth century (Anthologia Latina, 667), also maintained the same. In the original corpus—excluding Eps. 11 and 14—there are allusions to Paul’s difficult relations with both “paganism” and Judaism, which put him in danger.

3. Seneca’s expression spiritus sanctus in Ep. 7 does not refer to the “Holy Spirit,” but can be understood in relation to Seneca’s philosophy (Ramelli 2014). 4. Momigliano (1950); Ramelli (2004, 2014). 5. Tert. An. 20; Lact. Inst. 6.24.14. 6. See Whealey (2003, 2007); Ramelli (1998, 2013c). 7. Ep.153, ad Macedonium. See Ramelli (2002). 8. These references to our correspondence are absent from this Martyrdom’s Greek redaction: they were added to the Latin version and further testify to the exclusively Latin reception of this epistolary corpus.

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Notably, these are found in letters set during 62 CE, the year the Judaizer Poppaea Sabina accessed the throne, following the repudiation of Octavia (the object of the homonymous tragedy, also transmitted in Seneca’s corpus). Josephus, Life 16, recounts that he knew Poppaea through a Jew, and asked her to treat some Jewish prisoners favorably; she obliged and offered him gifts.9 Also, Poppaea convinced Nero to absolve some Jews sent to him by the procurator of Judaea against whom they had rebelled. She protected two of them in her house (Jos., Ant. 20:189-196). The wife of Florus, the procurator of Judaea, was a close friend of Poppaea (Jos., Ant. 20:252-258). Poppaea refused cremation at her burial, but chose embalming and inhumation (Tac., Ann. 16.11.1). The first letter in chronological order, Ep. 10 (set on June 27, 58 CE), presupposes that Paul had been in Rome for some time and learned some Latin (Ep. 1). The year 62 CE witnessed Nero’s marriage with Poppaea, Burrus’s death, and Seneca’s withdrawal. The new Judaizing empress, never named in the correspondence out of circumspection, is presented as a source of concern for Paul. Poppaea had a penchant for Judaism and may have been a Jewish “God-fearer.” According to Jossa (2004: 189), Poppaea at Nero’s court helped clarify the difference between the Jesus movement and other Jewish strands. This would explain how only Christians, and not Jews, were put to death in 64 CE.10 Shortly afterward, the Romans, aware of the difference between the harmless Jesus movement and the Jewish rebels, may have facilitated the migration of members of that movement from Jerusalem to Pella before seizing Jerusalem.11 Ep. 5, ascribed to Seneca, is set from 62 CE onward for its allusions to Poppaea as empress: “the indignation of the empress” (indignatio dominae). Poppaea is supposed to be indignant at a Jew, Paul, who has adhered to the Jesus movement, abandoning his secta vetus to “turn in another direction” (aliorsum converteris). The medial-passive converti means not only “to convert” to a religion, and the letter does not mention a religio or superstitio from which Paul converted to another, but a ritus and secta, corresponding to the Greek αἵρεσις,12 which designated Greek philosophical schools and, in Josephus, Jewish sects such as Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes. Paul belonged to the Pharisees; these, if not the whole of Judaism, might represent the “sect” from which Paul turned “elsewhere”—to the Jesus movement, which he initially had countered. In the immediate context of Ep. 5, Seneca is complaining that Paul is away and tries to understand why: Nimio tuo secessu angimur. Quid est? Quae res te remotum faciunt? Si indignatio dominae,

9. On Josephus’s acquaintance with the imperial court, see Hollander (2014). 10. It was impossible to put Jews to death qua Jews: Judaism was a religion recognized by the Roman Empire (Ramelli, forthcoming b). However, they might have been put to death on the charge of arson in 64 CE. 11. My suggestion (Ramelli 2014b) is received by Mimouni (2015: 492–99). As Daniel Boyarin and others point out, the “parting of the ways” theologically was less straightforward than politically. The Romans were interested in the latter respect. 12. See Perrotta (2007); Rüpke (2011/2016).

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quod a ritu et secta veteri recesseris et aliorsum converteris, erit postulandi locus, ut ratione factum, non levitate hoc existimet. Seneca hopes it will be possible to explain to Poppaea the reason why Paul, a Jew, embraced the Jesus movement: not out of levitas,13 but for precise motives. In Ep. 7, set in 62 CE, when the empress was Poppaea and Seneca was still Nero’s counselor, Seneca states he read Paul’s letters “to the Galatians, Corinthians, and Achaeans,” and read parts of them to Nero. These are Galatians, 1 Corinthians, and 2 Corinthians, authored during the 50s of the first century. 1 and 2 Corinthians seem to be most echoed in all of our correspondence. 2 Corinthians is addressed to the Christians of Corinth and “of the whole Achaea” (2 Cor. 1:1), the province governed by Seneca’s brother, Gallio, who according to Acts 18:12-17 met Paul. These letters cited by Seneca correspond to the earliest collection of Paul’s epistles. Ep. 7 mentions, not the complete corpus, including the “disputed” and “pseudo-Paulines,” but only what contemporary critics indicate as authentic Pauline letters—as we shall see, the same that are also echoed in the original layers of our correspondence. Arguably these coincide with a very early Pauline collection (one is alluded to in 1 Pet. 3:15-16; Frey 2015: 164–65). Nero is reported by Seneca to have been positively impressed by Paul’s ideas. What worries Seneca is not Nero but the Judaizing Poppaea. Paul is represented in the letter immediately following as troubled by both. Ep. 8 is Paul’s reply to Seneca’s Ep. 7. Paul manifests his concern that Seneca read his letters to Nero, not only because of the emperor’s “paganism,” but also out of fear of the Judaizing empress’s reaction: Puto enim te graviter fecisse, quod ei in notitiam perferre voluisti quod ritui et disciplinae eius sit contrarium. Cum enim ille gentium deos colat, quid tibi visum sit ut hoc scire eum velles non video, nisi nimio amore meo facere te hoc existimo. Rogo de futuro ne id agas. Cavendum enim est ne, dum me diligis, offensum dominae facias.

Paul’s main concern is Poppaea, probably a Jewish proselyte. Hence, the fear that Seneca’s favor for Paul may offend her, because Paul has “turned away” from Judaism. However, unlike Seneca, who is not worried by Nero, Paul also alludes to Nero’s paganism: he “worships the gods of the gentiles.” For Paul, both Gentiles and Jews are in sin (Rom. 1–2); “all, Jews and Greeks, are under the dominion of sin” (Rom. 3:9) and need God’s mercy. “God consigned all to disobedience to be merciful to all”;14 Adam’s sin infected all humanity,15 but in Christ every human becomes a “new creature” (2 Cor. 5:17). Seneca was neither Jewish nor Christian, and the original correspondence, as mentioned, does not presuppose his “conversion”; however, he criticized “pagan” cults and popular religious beliefs

13. Both here and in 2 Cor. 1:17 (τῇ ἐλαφρίᾳ ἐχρησάμην; levitate usi sumus?), Paul has not acted out of lightness. 14. Rom. 11:32; cf. Gal. 3:22: God “closed all together under sin.” 15. 1 Cor. 15:21-22; Rom. 5:12-14, 17-19.

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(e.g., Ramelli 1997b). This explains Paul’s different attitudes toward Nero and Seneca, and Tertullian’s esteem for Seneca. Ep. 9, attributed to Seneca, continues the topic of Seneca reading Paul’s letters to Nero, which elicits Paul’s apprehension due to Nero’s “paganism” and Poppaea’s Judaism. It focuses again on Paul’s literary letters: “You have been worried by the letter I sent you concerning the presentation of your epistles to the emperor.” That Seneca read some of Paul’s literary letters and shared them with others is stated not only in Eps. 7, 8, and 9, but also in Ep. 1, set in 58–60/61 CE, and ascribed to Seneca. He tells Paul that he was in Nero’s Sallustian Gardens with his friend Lucilius and quidam disciplinarum tuarum comites—members of the Jesus movement in Rome. Tuarum, like “gods” in Ep. 7, confirms that the earliest layer of our letters did not suggest Seneca’s “conversion.” In quidam disciplinarum tuarum comites, there is again no trace of a designation of Christianity (or of Judaism or “paganism”) as religio or superstitio,16 but the term used is disciplinae, which, like secta (Ep. 5), designates the teachings of a philosophical school. Seneca informs Paul that in the Sallustian Gardens, “we read your small book, that is, some letters out of the very many you addressed to some city or provincial capital, and contain admirable exhortations to moral life. Thus we were comforted.” Later, as Eps. 7–9 purport, Seneca also read Paul’s letters to Nero. Seneca praises Paul’s ethics, expressed in his literary epistles, because of its closeness to Stoic ethics—as is emerging in contemporary scholarship on Paul and Hellenistic moral philosophy.17 Seneca refers to Paul’s letters’ paraenetic genre (mira exhortatione), common to much Stoic ethical literature. Seneca highlights the “majesty” and “nobility” of Paul’s ideas in his literary letters, which he includes in the best paideia: “There will hardly be enough generations of humans that can be perfectly educated by them.” These letters aimed at representing reciprocal esteem between the Stoic intellectual and the propagator of Christianity—a comparison of Seneca’s and Paul’s ideas has been offered by Sevenster (1961), Fürst and Fuhrer (2006), and Dodson and Briones (2017), against the background of the abovementioned issue of how much Paul was familiar with Stoicism. Paul, in his reply (Ep. 2), reciprocates Seneca’s esteem: Seneca is wise and eloquent, the “teacher of so great an emperor, or rather of all people” through his moral writings, and a “moral arbiter.” Paul is honored that Seneca values his

16. There exists no word for “religion” in Greek, Latin, or Hebrew, and the concept is elusive in ancient Jewish, Greek, and Roman culture (see Rüpke 2007: 5–12; Nongbri 2013). Inreligiositas has more to do with wrong cults, or lack thereof, than wrong beliefs. Tertullian turns this anti-Christian charge against traditional Greco-Roman religion, which committed the crime verae inreligiositatis (Apol. 24.2). Smith (1978) observed that the classical use of religio did not contemplate the plural, because it did not designate a particular cult, but the correctness of cult, as opposed to aberrant cultic forms of superstitiones. 17. Ramelli (2009) with documentation; Rasimus, Engberg-Pedersen, Dunderberg (2010); Engberg-Pedersen (2010); Ramelli (2016, 101–20).

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literary letters: “Since you write at some point that you have well received my letters, I deem myself blessed by the judgment of so illustrious a man” (Ep. 2). The motif of Seneca’s reading of Paul’s literary letters to Nero emerges also in Ep. 3, set in 62 CE or beforehand. Seneca is speaking of a work—Paul’s literary letters or a work by Seneca on Paul’s thought—to read to Nero after consulting Paul about it. He wants Paul to examine the work first and be present when he read the work to Nero. Here, the element of the fear of the Judaizing Poppaea’s indignation does not yet surface, possibly because the letter is set before Poppaea’s access to the throne. As argued thoroughly by Ramelli (2014a), the nature of NT allusions in epp. 11 and 14, and in the rest of the corpus, confirms that epp. 11 and 14 must be distinguished from the original nugget and were added afterward. The NT allusions in the original correspondence suggest possible links with Marcionism.18 This is very interesting with respect to these letters’ representation of the problematic relation between Paul and Judaism, given the divide that Marcion and his followers placed, or were perceived as placing, between Christianity and Judaism, to the point of being accused of depreciating the so-called Old Testament as the product of an inferior deity and making precise textual choices in what was to become the NT, Gospel of Marcion (Euangelion),19 and Marcion’s collection of the Pauline corpus (Apostolikon). Jason BeDuhn argued that Marcion was the creator of the first NT, scriptural canon, or “a collection of authoritative books.”20 Marcion’s text, according to Klinghardt (2015), concurs with the “Western” text (Vetus Latina, Vetus Syra, Bezae Cantabrigiensis) 329 times. One instance is Lk.  24:34, where Marcion’s reading agrees with those of the Vetus Syra, Bezae, some Coptic versions, and Vetus Latina.21 The Vetus Latina is also the closest text to the NT citations in the original Seneca-Paul correspondence. Marcion and the Marcionites aimed at severing Christianity from Judaism, or this is how they were represented retrospectively. Marcion’s distinction between

18. On Marcionism see, for example, Greschat (2009); Moll (2010); Markschies (2012); Vinzent (2014); and Lieu (2015). 19. Vinzent (2014) (cf. 2011) conjectures that Marcion wrote the first work of the euaggelion literary genre and all other Gospels react to this. For the priority of Marcion’s Gospel over canonical Luke, Klinghardt (2006, 2008) shows that the priority of Marcion over extant Matthew and Luke solves issues raised within the Synoptic Problem by the Q and Goulder-Goodacre hypotheses. Reconstruction of Marcion’s Gospel in Klinghardt (2015) and Roth (2015b) indicates different degrees of certainty for the readings of Marcion’s reconstructed Gospel, and presents the history of research and a study of the sources (Tertullian, Epiphanius, Dialogue of Adamantius, on which see Ramelli 2012–13 and forthcoming a). 20. BeDuhn (2013: 3–4). He also offers an English translation of the Gospel of Marcion and Apostolikon (BeDuhn 2013: 65–319). 21. See Ramelli (2014c). The Vetus Syra, especially in the gospels, according to Joosten (2013), goes back to an ancient Aramaic tradition independent of the Greek gospels.

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Jesus’s Father and the OT Creator is consistently attested in Justin (1 Apol. 26.5; 58.1) and Irenaeus (Adv. Haer 1.27.2). Around 170, the “pagan” Middle Platonist Celsus distinguished various Christian αἱρέσεις (Cels. 3.12) from the “Great Church” (Cels. 5.59). Among the doctrines of these heresies, Celsus singles out those of “Gnostics” and Marcionites: while the “Great Church” has the same God as the Jews, the others think there is a different God, opposed to the first God from whom the Son derived (Cels. 5.61). Tertullian continually refers to Marcion’s Antitheses between Law and Gospel in Book 4 of Adversus Marcionem, which deals with the Gospel, but not in Book 5, which deals with Paul. This may indicate that these antitheses did not deal primarily with Paul (so Lieu 2010: 47). However, the Marcion-Tertullian polemic was very much about Paul’s legacy (Lieu 2010). If our correspondence’s original (second-century?) layer is connected with Marcionism, this would help explain the difficult relation of Paul—seen as having turned away from his Jewish secta in some other direction (aliorsum)—to Judaism, as portrayed in the original correspondence, in contrast to the assimilation between Christians and Jews in Ep. 11, added afterward. In the two letters added later, allusions to, and echoes from, NT writings involve, besides Paul’s authentic letters, later NT writings, such as 1 Peter22 and the “Deutero-Paulines,”23 in addition to later literary sources absent from the original correspondence, such as Tacitus, Tertullian, and fourth-century Proba (Ep. 11). Instead, the correspondence’s earlier redaction contains references and allusions to NT writings, but, remarkably, limited to Pauline letters that critics recognize as written by Paul: 1 and 2 Corinthians, Galatians, 1 Thessalonians, Romans, and Philemon. Moreover, among the authentic Pauline epistles, the letters referred to in the correspondence arguably belong to the earliest collection of Paul’s epistles (at least 1 and 2 Corinthians and Galatians). There seems to be no allusions to Revelation, the gospels, the “disputed Paulines,” the “Pastorals”—pseudo-Pauline24 and absent from Marcion’s canon—or the “Catholic Epistles.” A possible reference to Acts is doubtful.25 But allusions to the NT in epp. 11 and 14, and only in these, are very different, as mentioned. This confirms they were added subsequently, and no longer bear connections with Marcionism—hence also their different representations of Jewish-Christian relations and of Paul’s relation to Judaism. The

22. For example, Ep. 11 echoes 1 Pet. 2:12; Ep. 14 echoes 1 Pet. 1:23, 25. 23. For example, Ep. 14 echoes Eph. 4:22, 24; Col. 3:9-10. 24. The Pastorals are pseudepigrapha for almost all NT scholars, including Ramelli (2011b), apart from few such as Michel Gourgues, who argues that at least 2 Tim. is authentic, and Geza Vermes (2012: 93). The biggest problem concerns women’s leadership; though Origen read the Pastorals as supporting it and allegorized the injunction of being saved through childbearing as referring to every soul who ought to produce virtue (Ramelli (2013d)). 25. The reference concerns Paul’s Roman citizenship (Acts 16:38; 22:25), deemed reliable by James Charlesworth, “Why Should Experts Ignore Acts in Pauline Research?” (in this volume), which could have been known from other sources too.

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letters ascribed to Paul, albeit fewer and shorter than those attributed to Seneca, include the most numerous and remarkable echoes from Paul’s NT letters. In the more numerous and longer letters attributed to Seneca, NT reminiscences are far fewer and more doubtful. However, here too, in the original correspondence, NT echoes come exclusively from Paul’s authentic epistles, such as 1 Thessalonians and 2 Corinthians. In the original layer there are also comments on Paul’s authentic NT letters by Seneca in epp. 1, 7, and 13. The first two letters have been addressed earlier. In Ep. 1, Seneca refers to the ideas expressed in Paul’s literary epistles: “I think these thoughts have been expressed, not by you [ex te], but through you [per te],” or at least both “by you” and “through you.” The ideas conveyed by Paul’s literary letters are divine and transmitted through Paul. Seneca declares again Paul’s divine inspiration in Ep. 7. Ep. 13 is chronologically the earliest (July 6, 58 CE). Seneca is here made to remark upon the “allegorical and enigmatic” nature of many parts of Paul’s literary letters, which Seneca connects with the divine inspiration he attributes to Paul in epp. 1 and 7. In these letters attributed to Seneca, the divine is referred to in generic terms, neither “pagan,” Jewish nor Christian. It is the divinity of the philosophers. In the original correspondence, the names “Jesus Christ,” “Jesus,” or “Christ” never appear, not even in the letters ascribed to Paul—what also happens in second-century Christian apologetic writings—whereas “Christ Jesus” appears in the later Ep. 14 (auctor Christi Iesu), the only one that, as I pointed out, intimates a conversion of Seneca to Christianity. The absence of OT allusions in the earliest layer reinforces the suspicion that the original nugget bore some relation to Marcionism, which accorded to the OT a lesser degree of authority than to the NT, and was represented as aiming to deracinate Christianity from Judaism.26 The results yielded by my research into the use of NT quotations and allusions in our correspondence reinforce the hypothesis of the distinction between an original nugget (only citing Paul’s authentic epistles, singling out the earliest collection, without the “Pastorals,” the rest of the NT, and the OT) and the two later letters, and require a reassessment of the original nugget, its attitude to Paul and Judaism, and its possible relation to Marcionism. Two letters were added from the fourth century onward, while the original layer likely goes back to the second. While in the two later letters allusions to NT writings range from the gospels to the Pastorals and the “disputed Paulines” (Ephesians, Colossians, 2 Thessalonians), and the “Catholic Epistles,” besides Tacitus, Tertullian, and Proba, echoes and allusions in the earlier letters are limited to Paul’s epistles—only those which contemporary criticism recognizes as authentically Pauline, to the exclusion of the “Pastorals” (Ramelli 2013b; 2014). This suggests the author/redactor relied on a Pauline collection still containing

26. See Judith Lieu’s paper in this volume concerning the oversimplification entailed by the statement that Marcion “rejected the OT”; Tertullian Adv. Marc. 4.6.3 ascribes to Marcion the Law vs. Gospel and Judaism vs. Christianity double opposition.

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only Paul’s authentic letters27 and possibly the Deutero-Paulines, but not the Pastorals, and no other scriptural collection. Epp. 11 and 14 were added sometime between the late fourth century—when Jerome did not know Ep. 11—and the tenth to eleventh century, when Ep. 14 began to inspire the legend of Seneca’s conversion (Ramelli 2014a). The earliest layer, as its suffecti-dating indicates, should not be dated later than the third century; its possible relation to Marcionism points to mid-second century or somewhat later. Neither the Marcionites nor our original correspondence includes the “Pastorals” in their Pauline corpus. Marcion received a Pauline body of ten letters, beginning with Galatians, 1 and 2 Corinthians, and Romans (Schmid 1995: 284–98), which he read as a corpus, the Apostolikon—whether he collected those letters or received a previous collection. The first three in Marcion’s collection, Galatians and 1 and 2 Corinthians, are the same mentioned as Paul’s literary epistles in the original Seneca-Paul correspondence. Marcion did not know the “Pastorals,” or excluded them from his canon (Porter 2016: 570). The Pauline corpus that later became canonical, with the “Pastorals,” was quoted as authentic from c. 180 onward in Greek, which suggests a composition before that time for the original nugget of our correspondence. This correspondence, however, is extant (and was probably composed) in Latin28 (although with many Grecisms in the letters ascribed to Paul: as will be pointed out below) in the Western Empire, where it became known to Jerome and Augustine. Greek “pagan” and Christian authors from imperial and Late Antiquity were ignorant of this correspondence. Even the learned Origen, exceedingly interested in Paul, was unacquainted with it. This corroborates the hypothesis that this corpus was composed, or circulated, in Latin. Our correspondence’s Latin resembles that of the Muratori Fragment (MF). However, MF seems translated from Greek and is homogeneous throughout, while an analysis of Grecisms and their distinctive distribution in our letters (Ramelli 2011; 2013b; 2014a) reveals that here they are not only lexical, but also syntactical, and concentrate in the shorter and fewer letters attributed to Paul. Examples of lexical Grecisms are sophista (Ep. 2) and aporia (Ep. 10), also used in the Vulgate as “doubt.” But in Paul’s words (Ep. 10) aporia means not “doubt”—the meaning of aporia in its few Latin occurrences—but “difficulty, incoherence, inconsistency,” the Greek meaning of ἀπορία. An example of syntactical Grecism: Ep. 6, ascribed to Paul, includes an exhortation to patience and the notion of repentance, both in line with Paul’s authentic NT letters. Commentators regard quibus si patientiam demos as odd, a clue of bad/late Latin.29 But it is a syntactical Grecism: ὑπομονὴν (ἀνοχὴν/μακροθυμίαν) διδόναι is repeatedly attested from the early imperial period onward, often with dative, as

27. Almost no NT scholar holds all thirteen Pauline letters written by Paul. Among the exceptions is Porter (2013). 28. So also Ehrman (2013: 520): our correspondence was “certainly composed in Latin”; my review Filologia Neotestamentaria 46 (2013): 169–72. 29. Fürst 2006 n. 70: “Patientiam dare ist eine singuläre Junktur.”

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in Ep. 6. In Diodorus (Siculus, 14.104.2), Josephus (Ant. 7:281; War 1:173), Origen (Hom. Jer. 1:3) and Didymus (Comm. Job (pap. + cat.) 368.11), John Chrysostom,30 and others, ἀνοχὴν/ὑπομονὴν διδόναι + dative means “to bear with,” as (alicui) patientiam dare in our letter. Another syntactical Grecism in Paul’s letters: in Ep. 2, in addition to the lexical Grecism sophista, there is si praesentiam iuvenis habuissem, instead of si iuvenis adfuisset. Commentators hypothesize a postclassical, late construction.31 However, praesentiam habere is a syntactical Grecism reproducing παρουσίαν ἔχειν, often attested in classical and Hellenistic Greek, including Hellenistic Judaism, almost always followed by a genitive. Paul, in his NT letters, often in a parousia topos,32 prefers the formula παρουσία + genitive of a person (e.g., Phil. 2:12: ἐν τῇ παρουσίᾳ μου, “during my presence,” instead of “when I am there”). The Vulgate renders in praesentia mei. In Ep. 4, too, Paul uses this construct: praesentiam tui. The very use of the genitive of the personal pronoun instead of the possessive adjective is a syntactical Grecism and appears also in Ep. 6, ascribed to Paul: paenitentiam sui. In Paul’s undisputed NT letters, there are many examples of παρουσία + genitive of person; all occurrences of this noun in Paul’s NT letters present this syntactical form, the same transposed into Latin in Paul’s letters in our correspondence. There are also examples of non-deponent Latin verbs used as deponents in Paul’s letters in our corpus, under the influence of the corresponding Greek deponents.33 The nature and distribution of Grecisms is therefore different in the Seneca-Paul correspondence than in MF. Guignard (2015) hypothesizes an original Greek of MF from the late second century, the Latin translation stemming from the second half of the fourth.34 The Latin contains postclassical words or meanings, and words or phrases that surface in the fourth century (e.g., doceantur, uisorem, intimans, and sub praesentia). However, in our correspondence what is taken as evidence of late Latin can be low-register, colloquial Latin. Many Grecisms are detectable in MF, including a B that represents Greek number 2. But in our letters, Grecisms, as I showed, are also syntactical, and unevenly distributed—almost exclusively in

30. Ep. PG 52.722.43; 54.531.20; In illud: Pater, si possibile est, PG51.40.36; In Rom. PG60.656.47; In 1 Cor. P61.199.12. 31. Fürst (2006: 39 n. 58): “Die unbeholfene Formulierung si praesentiam iuvenis habuissem statt klassisch etwa si iuvenis adfuisset ist nachklassisch und singular.” 32. On this see, for example, Lieu (2016), on Paul’s letters overcoming spatiotemporal distances, against the backdrop of epistolary topoi, such as the parousia topos. 33. For example, Paul in Ep. 2 uses accipi as δέχομαι. 34. He rejects Armstrong’s thesis that MF was written in (bad) Latin by Victorinus of Pettau, who knew Greek better than Latin. Victorinus’s lifetime is at odds with MF’s affirmation that the Shepherd of Hermas was written under Pius (c. 141–55), nuperrime, temporibus nostris (l.74). But Guignard recognizes that Victorinus, around 260, knew MF likely in Greek; no external evidence attests to the existence of the Latin text before Chromatius. On bilingualism in Roman times see Dubuisson (1981a, 1981b); Rochette (1996, 1997, 1998).

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Paul’s letters. As Guignard (2015: 618) notes, “At the end of the second century (and probably even one or two decades later), with the exception of Latin North Africa, Greek was the most natural language for writing such a document in most major Christian centres, not only in the eastern but also in the western part of the Roman Empire.” The Seneca-Paul correspondence is more likely to have been penned in Latin in Italy or North Africa, as its exclusively Western reception also suggests. Our original correspondence seems more ancient than MF, which includes all the Pauline letters that entered the canon, including the Pastorals, whereas the former does not know, or ignores, the Pastorals, and only cites what contemporary criticism deems Paul’s authentic letters, singling out some among the earliest, such as Galatians and 1 and 2 Corinthians, as belonging to the first Pauline corpus. The original nugget of our correspondence, if dating to the second century, would be among the earliest Latin Christian works. If Paul’s letters were not yet translated into Latin, the author(s) of the original correspondence knew Greek well, as the syntactical Grecisms confirm. In 180 CE, in Latin-speaking Africa, however, the Scillitan martyrs, whose names reflect indigenous origins, possessed a collection of Paul’s letters35—possibly a Latin translation. It would be good to know which letters constituted that Pauline corpus, to compare it with those of Marcion and of the original layer of our correspondence. Some hints suggest that the Scillitans’ Pauline corpus included the Pastorals,36 so the Pauline corpus reflected in the original Seneca-Paul correspondence seems even earlier—which points to times closer to Marcion. The exclusion of the Pastorals from the Pauline letters cited or echoed in our original correspondence might be connected with Marcionism. Also, as I remarked, while NT allusions abound in our corpus, OT allusions are absent. This further suggests some relation to Marcionism. Marcion collected Paul’s letters, to the exclusion of the Pastorals and other non-Pauline letters, in one codex, and his Gospel in another. The second-century author of the Seneca-Paul letters possibly had only the collection of Paul’s authentic letters available. If Tertullian, around 200 CE, had the Gospel of Marcion in Latin, or was translating it into Latin, shortly beforehand, then the author of the original nugget of our correspondence may have had Marcion’s Apostolikon—perhaps translated into Latin—without his Euaggelion (or other NT books). This would explain the reason why she or he cites only Paul, to the exclusion of Pseudo-Paul, and nothing else from the NT or OT. While there is no evidence for 2 Corinthians before Marcion, 2 Corinthians features prominently in our correspondence, being echoed and referenced as the “letter to the Achaeans.” Finally, the representation of Paul’s difficult relation to Judaism I pointed out in the original layer—versus the association of Jews and Christians as common victims of Nero in later Ep. 11—aligns with the supposition that our correspondence’s ancient nugget, probably from the second century, may be related to Marcionism. If so, this reassessment would bear not only on early

35. Acta martyrum Scillitanorum, 97–105 Bastiaensen. 36. I owe this supposition to Benjamin White in a conversation.

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Christian literature in general, but also on the formation of the Pauline corpus, the early reception of Paul as Jew, and Paul’s relation to Judaism.

References Barlow, C. W. (1938), Epistolae Senecae ad Paulum et Pauli ad Senecam quae vocantur, Rome: American Academy in Rome. BeDuhn, J. (2013), The First New Testament, Salem: Polebridge. Campbell, W. S. (2016), “Reading Paul in Relation to Judaism,” in A. Avery-Peck, C. Evans, and J. Neusner (eds.), Earliest Christianity within the Boundaries of Judaism, 120–50, Leiden: Brill. Dodson, J., and D. Briones (2017), Paul and Seneca in Dialogue, Ancient Philosophy and Religion 2, Leiden: Brill. Dubuisson, M. (1981a), “Utraque lingua,” L’antiquité classique 50: 254–86. Dubuisson, M. (1981b), “Problèmes du bilinguisme romain,” Les études classiques 49: 27–45. Ehrman, B. (2013), Forgery and Counterforgery, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Engberg-Pedersen, T. (2010), Cosmology and Self in the Apostle Paul, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Frey, J. (2015), Der Brief des Judas und der zweite Brief des Petrus, Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt. Fürst, A. and Th. Fuhrer, eds. (2006), Der apokryphe Briefwechsel zwischen Seneca und Paulus, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Greschat, K. (2009), “Marcion,” in I. Markham (ed.), Blackwell Companion to the Theologians, 1, 147–52, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Guignard, C. (2015), “The Original Language of the Muratori Fragment,” Journal of Theological Studies 66 (2): 596–624. Hollander, W. den (2014), Josephus, the Emperors, and the City of Rome, Leiden: Brill. Joosten, J. (2013), Language and Textual History of the Syriac Bible, Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias. Jossa, G. (2004), Giudei o cristiani? Brescia: Paideia. Klinghardt, M. (2006), “Markion vs. Lukas,” New Testament Studies 52: 484–513. Klinghardt, M. (2008), “The Marcionite Gospel and the Synoptic Problem,” Novum Testamentum 50: 1–27. Klinghardt, M. (2015), Das älteste Evangelium und die Entstehung der kanonischen Evangelien, I–II, Tübingen: Francke. Lieu, J. (2010), “The Dispute over Paul between Tertullian and Marcion,” Early Christianity 41: 41–59. Lieu, J. (2015), Marcion and the Making of a Heretic, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lieu, J. (2016), “Letters and the Topography of Early Christianity,” New Testament Studies 62 (2): 167–82. Markschies, C. (2012), “Das Evangelium des Marcions,” in Idem–J. Schröter (ed), Antike christliche Apokryphen, I, 466–70, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Mimouni, S. C. (2015), Jacques le Juste, frère de Jésus de Nazareth, Paris: Bayard. Moll, S. (2010), The Arch-Heretic Marcion, Tübingen: Mohr. Momigliano, A. (1950), “Note sulla leggenda del cristianesimo di Seneca,” Rivista Storica Italiana 62: 325–44.

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Nongbri, B. (2013), Before Religion, New Haven: Yale. Perrotta, R. (2007), Hairéseis. Gruppi, movimenti e fazioni del giudaismo antico e del cristianesimo, Bologna: Dehoniane. Porter, S. E. (2013), How We Got the New Testament, Grand Rapids: Baker. Porter, S. E. (2016), “Dating the Composition of New Testament Books,” in In mari via tua. FS Piñero, Israel Gallarte–Jesús Peláez (eds), 553–74, Córdoba: Almendro. Ramelli, I. (1997a), “L’epistolario apocrifo Seneca-san Paolo,” Vetera Christianorum 34: 1–12. Ramelli, I. (1997b) “La concezione di Giove negli stoici Romani di età neroniana,” Rendiconti dell’Istituto Lombardo 131: 292–320. Ramelli, I. (1998), “Alcune osservazioni circa il Testimonium Flavianum,” Sileno, 24: 219–35. Ramelli, I. (2000), “Aspetti linguistici dell’epistolario Seneca-San Paolo,” Aevum Antiquum, 13: 123–27. Ramelli, I. (2002), “Seneca in Plinio, Dione, s. Agostino,” in J. M. Croisille–Y. Perrin (eds.), Neronia VI, 503–13, Bruxelles: Latomus. Ramelli, I. (2004), “Note sull’epistolario tra Seneca e Paolo alla luce di Erasmo,” Invigilata Lucernis 26: 225–37. Ramelli, I. (2008), review of Fürst–Fuhrer (2006): Gnomon 80: 307–11. Ramelli, I. (2009), “Philosophen und Prediger,” in H. G. Nesselrath and Sotera Fornaro, Eugenio Amato, Barbara Borg, Ilaria Ramelli, Jacques Schamp, and Renate Burri (eds.), Dion von Prusa, 183–210, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Ramelli, I. (2011), “Bilingualism in the Pseudo-Epigraphical Correspondence between Seneca and Paul,” in J. Torres (ed.), Vtroque sermone nostro, 29–39, Pamplona: Universidad de Navarra. Ramelli, I. (2011a), “The Early Sources on Mark and Philo, and the Petrine Tradition,” Studia Philonica 23: 69–95. Ramelli, I. (2011b), “The Pastoral Epistles and Hellenistic Philosophy,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 73 (3): 562–81. Ramelli, I. (2012–13), “The Dialogue of Adamantius: A Document of Origen’s Thought?,” Studia Patristica 52 (2012): 71–98; 56 (4) (2013): 227–73. Ramelli, I. (2013a), “L’epistolario Seneca-s. Paolo,” Theologica Leoniana 2: 115–53. Ramelli, I. (2013b), “The Pseudepigraphic Correspondence between Seneca and Paul,” in S. Porter and G. Fewster (eds.), Paul and Pseudepigraphy, 319–36, Leiden: Brill. Ramelli, I. (2013c), “Jesus, James the Just, a Gate, and an Epigraph,” in M. Tiwald (ed.), Das Gesetzesverständnis der Logienquelle, 203–29, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Ramelli, I. (2013d), “ Tit 2:2-4 and a Patristic Interpretation,” in L. Roig Lanzillotta and I. Muñoz Gallarte (eds), Greek, Jews, and Christians, 281–99, Cordoba: El Almendro. Ramelli, I. (2014a), “A Pseudepigraphon inside a Pseudepigraphon?” Journal for the Study of Pseudepigrapha 23 (4): 259–89. Ramelli, I. (2014b), “The Jesus Movement’s Flight to Pella and the ‘Parting of the Ways’,” Augustinianum 54: 35–51. Ramelli, I. (2014c), “ The Emmaus Disciples and the Kerygma of the Resurrection: A Greek Variant and the Old Syriac, Coptic, and Latin Traditions,” Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 105: 1–19. Ramelli, I. (2016), Social Justice and the Legitimacy of Slavery: The Role of Philosophical Asceticism from Ancient Judaism to Late Antiquity, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ramelli, I. (forthcoming a), The Dialogue of Adamantius, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Ramelli, I. (forthcoming b), “Christians & Jews: Legislation,” in P.van Geest (ed.), Brill Encyclopedia of Early Christianity, Leiden: Brill. Robertson, P. (2016), Paul’s Letters and Contemporary Greco-Roman Literature, Leiden: Brill. Rochette, B. (1996), “Remarques sur le bilinguisme gréco-latin,” Les études classiques 64: 3–19. Rochette, B. (1997), “Grecs, romains, et barbares: à la recherche de l’identité ethnique des grecs et des romains,” Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire 75: 37–57. Rochette, B. (1998), “Le bilinguisme gréco-latin et la question des langues dans le monde gréco-romain: Chronique bibliographique,” Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire 76: 177–96. Roth, D. (2015a), review of Vinzent 2014, Journal of Theological Studies 66: 800–803. Roth, D. (2015b), The Text of Marcion’s Gospel, Leiden: Brill. Rüpke, J. (2007), Religion of the Romans, Cambridge: Polity. Rüpke, J. (2011/2016), Aberglauben oder Individualität? Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2011 = Religious Deviance in the Roman World, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016. Schmid, U. (1995), Marcion und sein Apostolos, Berlin: de Gruyter. Sevenster, J. N. (1961), Paul and Seneca, Leiden: Brill. Smith, W. C. (1978), The Meaning and End of Religion, London: SPCK. Strawbridge, J. R. (2015), The Use of the Pauline Epistles by Early Christian Writers, Berlin: de Gruyter. Tropper, A. (2016), Rewriting Ancient Jewish History, London: Routledge. Vinzent, M. (2011), Christ’s Resurrection in Early Christianity and the Making of the New Testament, Farnham: Ashgate. Vinzent, M. (2014), Marcion and the Dating of the Synoptic Gospels, Leuven: Peeters. Whealey, A. (2003), Josephus on Jesus, New York: Lang. Whealey, A. (2007), “Josephus, Eusebius, and the Testimonium Flavianum,” in C. Bottich and J. Herzer (eds.), Josephus und das Neue Testament, 73–115, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Yoshiko Reed, A. (2015), “The Afterlives of NT Apocrypha,” Journal of Biblical Literature 134 (2): 401–25.

Chapter 17 READING JAMES, REREADING PAUL David R. Nienhuis

Introductory Comments The Nangeroni seminar on the early reception of Paul intended to “uncover the neglected Jewish strata of Paul’s Wirkungsgeschichte during the first two centuries of the Common Era in an attempt to comprehend better the complex and diverse nature of Jewish-Christian relations at the time, the processes that led eventually to the so-called partings of the ways.”1 In my view the organizers of the conference rightly identified the New Testament (NT) letter of James as a worthy subject of investigation. Indeed, no other NT text includes such a rich range of direct and indirect parallels to Pauline literature. But how ought these many parallels be assessed? Herein lies the difficulty. A survey of modern James scholarship makes it plain that, for many of us, the epistle resists confident historical assessment. Indeed, no other NT document produces so wide a range of scholarly positions as to its paternity, provenance, and purpose. Dale Allison’s recent commentary provides a helpful list (2013: 28–29): of the fortyfour scholars listed, eighteen place composition before James’s death in 62 CE, fourteen place it somewhere in the last third of the first century, and twelve place it in the second century. Proposals for originating locale (2013: 94) include every major area of the Mediterranean world, including Rome, Egypt/Alexandria, Syria, Antioch, Palestine, Jerusalem, and Galilee. The result is a whole host of questions that must be addressed before one can attempt to speak meaningfully about “the reception of Paul in James.” Specifically, what is the letter’s point of composition vis-à-vis the historical moment of Paul’s activity? Is it contemporaneous with Paul’s ministry, or does it pre- or postdate it? And while the target of our analysis is the Paul of history, which “Paul” does the letter of James “receive”? The historical Paul presumably known by the historical James, the one whom we (also presumably) access via the so-called authentic Pauline letters? Or perhaps he is responding to

1. http://enochseminar.org/nangeroni-meetings/rome-2016

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the “Paul” of later tradition, the one often assumed to be speaking in the letters designated “Deutero-Pauline”? Or maybe his target is one of the many versions of Paul proclaimed by his later interpreters (whether fan or foe)? And of course the converse question must also be asked: which “James”—historical or otherwise—is receiving this “Paul”? These many tangled questions have led to seemingly interminable disagreements among James scholars. The premise of this seminar locates our letter in the posterior position in relation to Paul, so this chapter will not set out to convince defenders of an early date of composition for James; we will assume the dominant scholarly position that the letter of James is a pseudepigraphon. Instead, we begin by attempting to isolate more narrowly what “Paul”—or more accurately, what particular aspect of Pauline thought—is engaged by the letter. We’ll then posit a composition scenario for James that accounts for the letter’s reception of Paul in order to see what light might be shed on the nature of Jewish-Christian relations in the period after Paul’s death.

The Parallels between James and Paul Though the many points of literary connection between James and the Pauline letters are well known, there is little agreement as to the precise relationship between the two. If we restrict our search of ancient Greek literature to the period prior to the early Church Fathers (i.e., those who are not quoting or alluding to the letters involved), we find a series of impressive verbal connections, many of which are only found in the writings of Paul and James. Rom. 2:11—οὐ γάρ ἐστιν προσωπολημψία παρὰ τῷ θεῷ. Jas 2:1—μὴ ἐν προσωπολημψίαις ἔχετε τὴν πίστιν τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ. Minor agreement, but significant in the context of a series of closer agreements. ●

Rom. 2:13—οὐ γὰρ οἱ ἀκροαταὶ νόμου δίκαιοι παρὰ τῷ θεῷ, ἀλλʼ οἱ ποιηταὶ νόμου δικαιωθήσονται. Jas 1:22-25—Γίνεσθε δὲ ποιηταὶ λόγου καὶ μὴ ἀκροαταὶ μόνον . . . We have no evidence of anyone before Paul and James contrasting ποιηταὶ with ἀκροαταὶ. Especially striking since “word” in James refers to the “law” (1:25). ●

Rom. 2:12—καὶ ὅσοι ἐν νόμῳ ἥμαρτον, διὰ νόμου κριθήσονται . . . Jas 2:12—οὕτως λαλεῖτε καὶ οὕτως ποιεῖτε ὡς διὰ νόμου ἐλευθερίας μέλλοντες κρίνεσθαι. διὰ νόμου without the article occurs nowhere prior to Paul. Both use it here followed by a passive tense κρίνω. ●

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Rom. 3:30—εἷς ὁ θεός, ὃς δικαιώσει περιτομὴν ἐκ πίστεως καὶ ἀκροβυστίαν διὰ τῆς πίστεως . . . Gal. 3:20, 22—ὁ δὲ θεὸς εἷς ἐστιν . . . ἵνα ἡ ἐπαγγελία ἐκ πίστεως Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ δοθῇ τοῖς πιστεύουσιν. Jas 2:19—εἷς ἐστιν ὁ θεός; καλῶς ποιεῖς· καὶ τὰ δαιμόνια πιστεύουσιν . . . “God is one” used in relation to the pistis word-group (particularly close in Galatians, which shares the present participle πιστεύουσιν). ●

Rom. 4:1-2—Τί οὖν ἐροῦμεν εὑρηκέναι Ἀβραὰμ τὸν προπάτορα ἡμῶν . . . εἰ γὰρ Ἀβραὰμ ἐξ ἔργων ἐδικαιώθη . . . Jas 2:21—Ἀβραὰμ ὁ πατὴρ ἡμῶν οὐκ ἐξ ἔργων ἐδικαιώθη . . . δικαιόω in the passive with an instrumental εκ is found nowhere in Greek literature prior to Paul and James. Likewise ἐξ ἔργων is extremely rare prior to Paul and James. ●

Rom. 4:3—τί γὰρ ἡ γραφὴ λέγει; Ἐπίστευσεν δὲ Ἀβραὰμ τῷ θεῷ καὶ ἐλογίσθη αὐτῷ εἰς δικαιοσύνην. Jas 2:23—καὶ ἐπἡ γραφὴ ἡ λέγουσα· Ἐπίστευσεν δὲ Ἀβραὰμ τῷ θεῷ, καὶ ἐλογίσθη αὐτῷ εἰς δικαιοσύνην . . . Same biblical proof text used in argument over justification. ●

Rom. 3:28—λογιζόμεθα γὰρ δικαιοῦσθαι πίστει ἄνθρωπον χωρὶς ἔργων νόμου. Gal. 2:16—εἰδότες δὲ ὅτι οὐ δικαιοῦται ἄνθρωπος ἐξ ἔργων νόμου ἐὰν μὴ διὰ πίστεως . . . Phil. 3:9—μὴ ἔχων ἐμὴν δικαιοσύνην τὴν ἐκ νόμου ἀλλὰ τὴν διὰ πίστεως Χριστοῦ, τὴν ἐκ θεοῦ δικαιοσύνην ἐπὶ τῇ πίστει. Jas 2:24, 26—ὁρᾶτε ὅτι ἐξ ἔργων δικαιοῦται ἄνθρωπος καὶ οὐκ ἐκ πίστεως μόνον. Extremely close verbal agreement throughout plus, again, the unique δικαιόω + instrumental εκ along with the rare ἐξ ἔργων. ●

Rom. 3:28—λογιζόμεθα γὰρ δικαιοῦσθαι πίστει ἄνθρωπον χωρὶς ἔργων νόμου. Rom. 4:6—καθάπερ καὶ Δαυὶδ λέγει τὸν μακαρισμὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ᾧ ὁ θεὸς λογίζεται δικαιοσύνην χωρὶς ἔργων. Jas 2:18, 20, 26—δεῖξόν μοι τὴν πίστιν σου χωρὶς τῶν ἔργων . . . ἡ πίστις χωρὶς τῶν ἔργων ἀργή ἐστιν . . . καὶ ἡ πίστις χωρὶς ἔργων νεκρά ἐστιν. χωρὶς (τῶν) ἔργων is not extant in Greek literature before Paul and James. ●

Rom. 7:23—βλέπω δὲ ἕτερον νόμον ἐν τοῖς μέλεσίν μου ἀντιστρατευόμενον τῷ νόμῳ τοῦ νοός μου καὶ αἰχμαλωτίζοντά με ἐν τῷ νόμῳ τῆς ἁμαρτίας τῷ ὄντι ἐν τοῖς μέλεσίν μου . . . Jas 4:1—ἐκ τῶν ἡδονῶν ὑμῶν τῶν στρατευομένων ἐν τοῖς μέλεσιν ὑμῶν . . . ἀντιστρατεύομαι/στρατεύω + ἐν τοῖς μέλεσιν not extant in Greek literature before Paul and James. ●

It is, admittedly, very difficult if not usually impossible to prove literary dependence among ancient texts. Nevertheless, a dependent relationship between James and

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Romans at the very least seems certain once one notes how these close verbal parallels on the topic of justification proceed in parallel sequence in the two letters: ● ● ● ● ● ●

Issue posed in terms of faith and works Claim “God is one” in relation to faith/belief Appeal to “Father” Abraham as test case Citation of Gen. 15:6 as proof text Conflicting interpretations of the proof text Conclusion of the argument

Rom. 3:27-28, Jas 2:14-18 Rom. 3:29-30, Jas 2:19 Rom. 4:1-2, Jas 2:20-22 Rom. 4:3, Jas 2:20-22 Rom. 4:4-21, Jas 2:20-22 Rom. 4:20, Jas 2:24

It seems highly unlikely that this degree of agreement could take place apart from one writer having direct access to the text of the other (see, e.g., Dunn 1988: 197; Avemarie 2001). While the points of contact are somewhat less close between James and 1  Corinthians, an affirmation of James’s dependence on Romans and Galatians makes it easier to affirm the same for that letter (see, e.g., Mitchell 2007: 75–98). 1 Cor. 3:18; 11:16; 14:37—εἴ τις δοκεῖ σοφὸς εἶναι . . . εἰ δέ τις δοκεῖ φιλόνεικος εἶναι . . . Εἴ τις δοκεῖ προφήτης εἶναι . . . Jas 1:26—Εἴ τις δοκεῖ θρησκὸς εἶναι . . . Construction εἴ τις δοκεῖ + nominative adjective + εἶναι found nowhere prior to Paul and James. ●

1 Cor. 2:14, 3:3—Ψυχικὸς . . . ὅπου γὰρ ἐν ὑμῖν ζῆλος καὶ ἔρις . . . Jas 3:15-16—. . . ψυχική . . . ὅπου γὰρ ζῆλος καὶ ἐριθεία . . . Strikingly close parallel. ●

1 Cor.14:33—. . . οὐ γάρ ἐστιν ἀκαταστασίας ὁ θεὸς ἀλλὰ εἰρήνης Jas 3:15-16—ἐκεῖ ἀκαταστασία .  .  . ἡ δὲ ἄνωθεν σοφία πρῶτον μὲν ἁγνή ἐστιν, ἔπειτα εἰρηνική . . . The rare ἀκαταστασία named in opposition to εἰρήνη. ●

The evidence provides this writer with enough confidence to move ahead under the presumption that the author of James was in all likelihood not simply acquainted with isolated sayings from Romans and Galatians, but had access to a range of Pauline letters. On the basis of this evidence alone, a majority of scholars place the composition of James no earlier than the end of the first century. According to the list in Allison’s commentary, nearly 75 percent of James scholars would agree (Allison 2013: 28–29). More than a few scholars, however, push the composition of James even later. Elsewhere, I have made the case that James is also dependent on 1 Peter (Nienhuis 2007), for there we find numerous points of direct parallel occurring almost entirely in sequence.

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Verse

Comment

Jas 1:1 1 Pet. 1:1

Ἰάκωβος . . . ταῖς δώδεκα φυλαῖς ταῖς ἐν τῇ διασπορᾷ . . . Πέτρος . . . ἐκλεκτοῖς παρεπιδήμοις διασπορᾶς . . .

Jas 1:2 1 Pet. 1:6

ἡγήσασθε . . . ὅταν πειρασμοῖς περιπέσητε ποικίλοις . . . Rejoicing in various ἐν ᾧ ἀγαλλιᾶσθε, ὀλίγον ἄρτι εἰ δέον λυπηθέντες ἐν ποικίλοις trials πειρασμοῖς

Jas 1:3-4

τὸ δοκίμιον ὑμῶν τῆς πίστεως κατεργάζεται ὑπομονήν· ἡ δὲ ὑπομονὴ ἔργον τέλειον ἐχέτω, ἵνα ἦτε τέλειοι . . . τὸ δοκίμιον ὑμῶν τῆς πίστεως . . . δοκιμαζομένου . . . τέλος . . .

Testing of faith toward perfection

. . . ὅτι ὡς ἄνθος χόρτου παρελεύσεται. ἀνέτειλεν γὰρ ὁ ἥλιος σὺν τῷ καύσωνι καὶ ἐξήρανεν τὸν χόρτον, καὶ τὸ ἄνθος αὐτοῦ ἐξέπεσεν . . . διότι πᾶσα σὰρξ ὡς χόρτος, καὶ πᾶσα δόξα αὐτῆς ὡς ἄνθος χόρτου· ἐξηράνθη ὁ χόρτος, καὶ τὸ ἄνθος ἐξέπεσεν

Allusion/quotation of Isa.40:6-8

Jas 1:18 1 Pet. 1:23

βουληθεὶς ἀπεκύησεν ἡμᾶς λόγῳ ἀληθείας . . . ἀναγεγεννημένοι . . . διὰ λόγου ζῶντος θεοῦ καὶ μένοντος

Birth through a word from God

Jas 1:21

διὸ ἀποθέμενοι πᾶσαν ῥυπαρίαν καὶ περισσείαν κακίας . . . Ἀποθέμενοι οὖν πᾶσαν κακίαν . . .

Call to put away evil

1 Pet. 1:7-9 Jas 1:10-11

1 Pet. 1:24

1 Pet. 2:1 Jas 3:13 1 Pet. 2:12

Address to the diaspora

δειξάτω ἐκ τῆς καλῆς ἀναστροφῆς τὰ ἔργα αὐτοῦ ἐν πραΰτητι Call to good conduct σοφίας. τὴν ἀναστροφὴν ὑμῶν ἐν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν ἔχοντες καλήν . . . καλῶν ἔργων . . . τῶν ἡδονῶν ὑμῶν τῶν στρατευομένων ἐν τοῖς μέλεσιν ὑμῶν; ἐπιθυμεῖτε . . . . . . ἀπέχεσθαι τῶν σαρκικῶν ἐπιθυμιῶν, αἵτινες στρατεύονται κατὰ τῆς ψυχῆς . . .

Desires at war with the self

Ὁ θεὸς ὑπερηφάνοις ἀντιτάσσεται ταπεινοῖς δὲ δίδωσιν χάριν. Ὁ θεὸς ὑπερηφάνοις ἀντιτάσσεται ταπεινοῖς δὲ δίδωσιν χάριν.

Quotation of Prov.3:34

Jas 4:7 1 Pet. 5:8-9

ἀντίστητε δὲ τῷ διαβόλῳ, καὶ φεύξεται ἀφ’ ὑμῶν . . . ὁ ἀντίδικος ὑμῶν διάβολος . . . ᾧ ἀντίστητε στερεοὶ τῇ πίστει . . .

Command to resist the devil

Jas 4:10 1 Pet. 5:6

ταπεινώθητε ἐνώπιον κυρίου, καὶ ὑψώσει ὑμᾶς. Ταπεινώθητε οὖν ὑπὸ τὴν κραταιὰν χεῖρα τοῦ θεοῦ, ἵνα ὑμᾶς ὑψώσῃ ἐν καιρῷ

God exalts those who humble themselves

Jas 5:20

. . . σώσει ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ ἐκ θανάτου καὶ καλύψει πλῆθος ἁμαρτιῶν. ὅτι ἀγάπη καλύπτει πλῆθος ἁμαρτιῶν.

Quotation of Prov.10:12

Jas 4:1-2 1 Pet. 2:11 Jas 4:6 1 Pet. 5:5

1 Pet. 4:8

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This degree of agreement simply could not have happened by accident, and the evidence doesn’t align with the sort we would expect to find in situations of shared yet independent appeal to the common stock of early tradition (contra Konradt 2003; see also Allison 2013: 69; Popkes 1997). 1 Peter is most frequently dated sometime during the reign of Domitian, that is, roughly the last twenty years of the first century (see Achtemeier 1996; Elliott 2000; Feldmeier 2008). If James is indeed dependent on it, James’s date of composition is pushed unavoidably into the second century. A second-century composition for James is further strengthened when one considers evidence from canon history, for while late first-century texts like 1 Peter and Ephesians appear to have been widely known very early in the second century, and were clearly known by later Church Fathers like Irenaeus and Tertullian, we find no clear evidence of James in use until Origen takes it up rather prominently in the third century. Indeed, there was an explosion of James-oriented literature in the second century, including the Protevangelium of James, the so-called Ascents of James, the Apocryphon of James, and the two Apocalypses of James, along with the references to James in the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel According to the Hebrews, and the memoirs of Hegesippus. Nowhere among these texts and traditions can we find any trace of evidence that the writers knew anything of our NT letter. The evidence makes it plain that James was a hugely popular figure in this era, particularly among those Christian groups that diverged from proto-Catholic theological tradition (see, e.g., Bauckham 1995; Pratscher 1987). It stretches credulity to assume that our letter could have existed somewhere in these years and not be revealed as known by someone, somewhere. It makes far better sense to presume that the NT letter of James emerged as part of that larger second-century production of James literature. Of course, not all students of James come to these same conclusions. A common approach acknowledges the close similarities between James and Pauline materials but concludes that James simply cannot have had direct access to Paul’s letters because his disagreement is predicated on a misunderstanding of the teaching found there. While Paul consistently opposes πίστις Χριστοῦ and ἔργων νόμου, James’s opponent champions a form of faith that can exist apart from works of any kind. So Moo: “James’s teaching does not really come to grips with what Paul was saying” and therefore must be “reacting to a misunderstood Paulinism” because he fails to address “the real point of Paul’s teaching” (Moo 2008: 18–19; cf. Dibelius 1976: 29). But how might we account for such a misunderstanding when the evidence also strongly suggests that the author did indeed have access to Pauline texts? James appears “deliberately allusive” in regard to these Pauline passages, most of which deal directly with the question of justification (Allison 2013: 445). The words of Paul hover palpably over the text of James, leaving readers with the sense that James wants us to recall Paul’s teaching, to turn back to his letters and reconsider the particular contours of his proclamation of divine justification. To make sense of this, we will need to begin by taking a closer look at where and how James interacts with the whole of the Pauline corpus.

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Which Paul? As already noted, the range of Pauline materials makes it impossible to speak simply of James’s reception of “Paul.” Indeed, the canonical witness to Paul is a multivalent collection of materials, such that scholars have long divided the Pauline writings into subcollections representing different historical strata of Pauline tradition. Working in this vein, several recent studies have argued that James’s actual ire is not aimed at Paul’s faith and works discussions in the early, so-called authentic letters, but that of the subsequent layer of Paulinism reflected especially in the letters to the Ephesians, Timothy, and Titus (Cuvillier 2011; Pervo 2010: 122–25). As we are about to see, there is much to commend in this approach. As a scholar of canonical hermeneutics, however, I must begin by confessing that I am rather disinterested in the historically motivated canonical rearrangements promoted by modern criticism. My eyes are drawn, instead, to the hermeneutical problems and potentialities of an internally diverse biblical canon, especially insofar as these find fruit in applications that champion one aspect of the canonical witness to the detriment of another. The final form of the canon bears all the markings of a collection that was intentionally designed to function as a self-correcting, mutually glossing whole (Childs 2008; Nienhuis and Wall 2013). In canonical perspective, then, the questions of interest are less overtly diachronic—for example, “Which historical layer of Pauline tradition is the letter of James targeting?”—than synchronic: how does the witness of James help readers negotiate the multiple perspectives present in the Pauline witness? This latter question is not devoid of historical insight; indeed, it is my contention that the letter of James was composed out of an early second-century canonconsciousness that included a collection of Pauline materials which closely (if not entirely) resembled the Pauline corpus we hold today. In this manner, a reading of the letter of James as a reading of “Paul” will provide us with a view into the early second-century reception of Paul the Jew. We turn, then, to the ways in which James appears to “read” Paul. The major points of engagement can be usefully organized into the following four areas of consideration. 1. Can Faith Save? James asks whether faith without works has the power to save (2:14, Τί ὄφελος, ἀδελφοί μου, ἐὰν πίστιν λέγῃ τις ἔχειν ἔργα δὲ μὴ ἔχῃ; μὴ δύναται ἡ πίστις σῶσαι αὐτόν;). The confluence of the words faith, power, and save might draw our minds to the declarative thesis statement that opens the Pauline letter collection, which insists that the gospel is the power of salvation for all who believe (Rom. 1:16, Οὐ γὰρ ἐπαισχύνομαι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, δύναμις γὰρ θεοῦ ἐστιν εἰς σωτηρίαν παντὶ τῷ πιστεύοντι . . .). Where James questions whether an expression of “faith” has the power to result in salvation, the Paul of Romans insists it is the “gospel” that bears this power.

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On further exploration one discovers that Paul does not typically assert that faith by itself “saves.” Faith is described as the power that justifies the believer to enable a present, empowering relationship with God through the Spirit, but salvation is reserved as a future tense reality; it is depicted as the telos of justification, but justification and salvation are not understood to be the same thing. One is justified, but one is being saved (see, e.g., Rom. 10:9-13; 11:26; 1 Cor. 1:18; 5:5; 7:16; 15:2; 2 Cor. 2:15; Phil. 2:12-13). A passage from Paul’s initial overview of justification in Romans (5:1-11) may be taken as paradigmatic: “Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life” (5:9-10). By contrast, discussions of justification—and with it, the notion of salvation as an unfolding process—occasionally disappear when one turns to other Pauline letters. Eph. 2:5, 8—. . . by grace you have been saved (σεσῳσμένοι) through faith . . . 2 Tim. 1:8-9—. . . relying on the power of God, who saved (σώσαντος) us and called us with a holy calling . . . Tit. 3:4-5—. . . when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved (ἔσωσεν) us . . .

Indeed, it seems that some letters replace the language of justification with the language of salvation realized in toto—and with it, the understanding of salvation as a process of redemption orchestrated by God, a process which calls for active participation on behalf of the believer. According to the author of Ephesians, because Christ has been raised to rule at God’s right hand (1:20-23), believers are also “made alive together with Christ and raised . . . up with him and seated .  .  . with him in the heavenly places” (Eph. 2:5-6). This realized eschatology is strikingly different than the depiction of salvation one encounters in Philippians, for example; there salvation is something that must be worked out with fear and trembling for God is at work in them (2:12-13); believers are not already resurrected with Christ but strive to become like Jesus by sharing his sufferings in the hope that one day they might attain the goal of the resurrection from the dead (3:10-11). In these later texts, however, the process is already complete; faith alone empowers the believer to be raised with Christ regardless of the believers’ faithfulness. The presumed answer to the rhetorical question of James 2:14 makes it plain that the author of the letter disagrees with the notion that one is “saved through faith” (Eph. 2:8). 2. Whither the Law? James’s debate about “faith” and “works” in justification proceeds without reference to the Jewish Law. For James the law is the perfect and liberating (1:25; 2:12) “word” of God (1:22-25) which is to be performed and not merely heard (1:22; 4:11).

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There is no hint in this letter that the law is a subject of debate over what justifies believers before God. In most of the Pauline letters, however, the debate around justification is discussed against the backdrop of Gentile inclusion in God’s Torah-observant covenant community. Here Paul is not concerned with a conflict between faith and works in general, but between πίστις Χριστοῦ and ἔργων νόμου. On occasion, however, one finds a Paul who does in fact contrast faith and works without reference to the law: Eph. 2:8–9—For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast. 2 Tim. 1:8–9—. . . relying on the power of God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works but according to his own purpose and grace . . . Tit. 3:5—. . . he saved us, not because of any works of righteousness that we had done, but according to his mercy . . .

Most assume these texts reflect a later, post-Pauline community for whom the question of Gentile inclusion was resolved and justification no longer had to do with wrestling over the role of the Mosaic Law. While much of the key terminology of Paul’s earlier articulations of justification are still present (faith, works, righteousness, boasting, gift, power, mercy, etc.), reference to the law is strikingly absent. The contrast is clear when one compares these statements in Philippians and Titus: Phil. 3:8-9—. . . in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law (μὴ ἔχων ἐμὴν δικαιοσύνην τὴν ἐκ νόμου), but one that comes through faith in Christ. Tit. 3:5—. . . he saved us, not because of any works of righteousness that we had done (οὐκ ἐξ ἔργων τῶν ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ ἃ ἐποιήσαμεν ἡμεῖς), but according to his mercy . . .

In those texts where the law is absent from the discussion of justification, the issue under review becomes the role of faithful human action in the economy of God’s salvation. Indeed, where the Paul of Romans can categorically reject the idea that Christians “overthrow (καταργοῦμεν) the law by this faith” (Rom. 3:31), the Paul of Ephesians can insist the exact opposite: Christ “has abolished (καταργήσας) the law with its commandments and ordinances” (Eph. 2:15). James would support the first statement wholeheartedly, but would disagree vehemently with the latter. 3. Faith without Faithfulness? Emphasis on God’s merciful initiation of saving relationship in light of human incapacity is a consistent characteristic across the Pauline corpus. In most texts, the believer’s faith is an active, holistic response to God’s faithful initiation; faith is

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both attitude and action, something appropriated by the whole person, objectively and subjectively; it is ὑπακοὴν πίστεως, “the obedience of faith” or “faithful obedience” (Rom. 1:5; 16:26; see, e.g., Hays 2002). It is revealed in the person of Abraham, whose trust in God was made manifest in the kind of unwavering fidelity God reckons as righteousness (Rom. 4:18-22). Indeed, Paul can insist to the Galatians “the only thing that counts is faith working through love” (5:6), and to the Corinthians, “if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing” (13:2). Of course, Paul’s complex proclamation of justification by faith was as misunderstood in his own day as it continues to be today. Evidence that his earliest hearers took him to be preaching antinomianism is found in the repeated correctives embedded in his presentation of the topic in the letter to the Romans: “And why not say (as some people slander us by saying that we say), ‘Let us do evil so that good may come’?” (3:8); “Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound? By no means!” (6:1); “Should we sin because we are not under law but under grace? By no means!” (6:15; see also 1 Cor. 6:12; 10:23; Gal. 5:13). In these other Pauline texts, however, we find a presentation that seems to increase the distance between faith and obedience. Here the unilateral gift of God is not an invitation into justifying relationship, but salvation itself, one that is given by a faith that is dis-attached from the believer’s obedience. While the whole Pauline witness might be in agreement that entrance into justifying relationship with God is “not your own doing” (Eph.), “not according to works” (2 Tim.), “not because of any works of righteousness we had done” (Tit.), each of these later texts proclaim that the fullness of salvation itself is imparted to the believer by faith alone—the very thing James opposes (2:24). Granted, these authors follow these grand claims with repeated exhortations that this saving faith needs to produce good works (Eph. 2:8-10; 1 Tim. 2:10; 5:10, 25; 6:18; 2 Tim. 2:21; 3:17; Tit. 1:16; 2:7; 3:1-14), but it remains the case that believers are depicted as being able to have saving faith in Christ apart from a demonstration of Christlikeness; whatever faith they have, it is a saving faith that is separable not just from works of the law, but from anything they might do. Indeed, especially in the Pastorals, faith is more intellectual substance than relational standpoint, more fides quae creditur than fides qua. It is a content that one may “hold” fast to (1 Tim. 3:9; note the parallel with Jas 2:1, 14) or renounce (4:1); it involves words, and is mostly correlated with “sound doctrine” (1 Tim. 1:10; 4:6; 2 Tim. 4:3; Tit. 1:9; 2:1). In fact, salvation itself is said to take place when people “come to a knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim. 2:4). It is here that we find the primary point of contact with the letter of James. At the core of James’s justification argument is the rejection of a position that allows for any separability between faith and obedience. Faith is something that is demonstrated in life; if it is real faith, it works. It must be so, for faith and works exist in synergistic relationship: “Faith was active along with (συνήργει) his works, and faith was brought to completion (ἐτελειώθη) by the works” (2:22). Unless faith is acted upon by works, it remains as inert as a dead body; and as James insists, that kind of faith most certainly does not result in salvation (2:14-16).

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In this, James is simply reasserting traditional Jewish thinking on the matter, where covenant keeping is understood primarily in terms of obedience (Exod. 19:5-8). Indeed, it is arguable that the most repeated command in the law is the command to obey the law itself (e.g., Lev. 19:17; Deut. 5:1). There, faith is understood as faithfulness; it is a path to walk, it is halakhah. James assumes this posture throughout the letter, relentlessly pressing his readers to examine their behavior for falsehood and inconsistency. On first glance, then, it seems odd that someone arguing against the sufficiency of “faith alone” would appeal to Gen. 15:6, a text which focuses on Abraham’s belief. Against this, many have noted that Jewish tradition frequently tied Gen. 15:6 to Abraham’s obedient faithfulness (Soards 1987; Dibelius 1976: 168–74; Penner 1996: 63–65; Verseput 1997), typically by linking God’s reckoning of Abraham’s faith with his obedience in offering Isaac as a sacrifice (e.g., 1 Macc. 2:52; Sir. 44:21; Jub. 17:18)—precisely what James has done in this passage. Thus we see that he is reasserting the traditional understanding of Abraham’s faith against someone who has proposed the novel position that Abraham’s faith was somehow distinguishable apart from his obedience. Such a recognition illuminates the extent to which Paul was an innovator, for nowhere in Jewish thought prior to Paul do we find someone arguing as he does for the separability of faith and works. As we have already noted, the earlier Paul restricts this language to the opposition of πίστις Χριστοῦ and ἔργων νόμου. James is not targeting such a subtle distinction; he is refusing a position that claims one can have saving faith without any meaningful demonstration of obedience beyond intellectual affirmation (2:18-19) and pious confession (2:14-16). The scenario he opposes sounds very much like what is occasionally supported in those texts which assert that believers “are saved through faith” in order to do good works: Eph. 2:8–10—For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life. Tit.3:5-8—. . . he saved us, not because of any works of righteousness that we had done, but according to his mercy, through the water of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit . . . I desire that you insist on these things, so that those who have come to believe in God may be careful to devote themselves to good works; these things are excellent and profitable to everyone.

On this model, a gap is introduced: faith and salvation come first, and then believer is empowered to produce the “good works” God intends her to perform. Emphasis is therefore placed on teaching correct doctrine (2 Tim. 1:13-14; 2:2; 4:1-2) and paying attention to the scripture (3:14-16) which will equip the believer to perform “every good work” (3:17).Tellingly, the fact that good works do not always follow from this portrayal of faith is implicitly acknowledged in these works, for the authors must repeatedly exhort believers to “lead a life worthy of the calling” (Eph. 4:1), to be “prepared” (2. Tim. 2:21) and “equipped” (3:17) for every good

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work. James, however, rejects a distinction between saving faith and saintly deeds. One cannot claim saving faith and then pursue good deeds, or fail to do so but still retain saving faith, for the performance of good deeds is the only thing that indicates one’s participation in a faith that saves. 4. Friends of God or the World? James’s denial of the separability of faith and works is not of mere philosophical concern. He is deeply troubled by individuals who say they can “have faith” and presume salvation (2:14) and yet fail to care for the vulnerable (2:15-16); they think they can “have faith” (2:1) and yet still show partiality, deferring to the interests of the rich against the needs of the poor (2:1-7).This leads us directly into one final observation. James targets those who believe they can “have faith” while walking according to an ungodly wisdom, one that is self-evidently “earthly, unspiritual, (and) devilish” because it generates envy, selfish ambition, disorder and wickedness in the community (3:15-16). James rails against a Christianity that has accommodated itself to worldly value structures which give preference to the rich over the poor (1:9-11; 2:1-8, 15-16; 5:1-6), enables craving and coveting and spending on pleasures to develop unchecked (4:1-4), and allows believers to ground their faith in slogans (2:8, 19) instead of a life lived in obedience to the way of wisdom God has revealed “from above” (1:17; 3:15, 17). Some of the Pauline materials, by contrast, address an expression of Christianity that appears rather more mainstream in its ethos, with communities that include rich people (1 Tim. 6:17-18) and slave owners (Eph. 6:9; 1 Tim. 6:2; Pervo 2010: 234, n. 32). But James only has words of denunciation for “the way of the rich” (1:9-11) who withhold wages (5:1-6), or live simply to make money (4:13-17), or see the poor but respond at best with pious wishes (2:14-16) or at worst with outright disregard (2:1-7). Such vices result in “disorder and wickedness of every kind” (3:16), producing conflicts and disputes between people who are driven by cravings for goods and services (4:1-3). When believers live this way, James insists, they are guilty of spiritual adultery; they are revealed to be friends of the world and enemies of God (4:4) regardless of their confessional stance. Hence, in 1:26-27, James appeals specifically to purity language in opposition to those who have allowed their speech to deceive their hearts into the supposition that they are practicing true religion: “Religion (θρησκός) that is pure (καθαρός) and undefiled (ἀμίαντος) before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained (ἄσπιλος) by the world.” The relevant terms here are all associated in ancient Jewish texts with purity in both worship of God and life with others (Lockett 2008). Indeed, the combined concern for “orphans and widows” is repeated over sixty times in Jewish scripture, often to underscore the correlation between God, “the father of orphans and protector of widows” (Ps. 68:5), and those who are truly his children (see, e.g., Exod. 22:20-21; Deut. 10:18; 14:29; 24:17-21; 26:12-13). The Israelite who fails to care for such people are not merely exhorted to change their ways; they are informed rather directly that they are separated from God; they are “cursed” (Deut. 27:19). In all this we

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see James appealing to conventional Jewish thought to draw a clearer, harder line designed to disallow the development of any fideistic tendency in the life of the Christian: “You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone” (2:24). For James, “Faith is what it does, and religion is a way of being in the world for others, not a way of believing and living for oneself ” (Allison 2013: 91).

Reading James, Re-reading Paul It has become a commonplace among readers of James to attest to its thoroughgoing “Jewish” perspective. Though James identifies himself as “a servant of God and the Lord Jesus Christ,” his letter would in all likelihood have been found perfectly agreeable to any ancient reader associated with the religion of Israel. This very feature led Martin Luther to complain, “I maintain that some Jew wrote it who probably heard about Christian people but never encountered any” (Pelikan et al. 1999: 424). A few have even wondered if perhaps the letter wasn’t in fact an originally Jewish document lightly reworked for a later Christian audience (Spitta 1896; Massebieau 1895). We now know that these earlier exegetes were laboring under a false dichotomization of Christianity and Judaism, that “the parting of the ways” was a much more complex and protracted process than we realized, and that one cannot easily draw distinctions between ancient “Jewish” and “Gentile” Christianity, but must instead witness to the rich variety of early Christianities (Lieu 2002, 2006; Jackson-McCabe 2007). The question of whether James is best identified as “Jewish Christian” or a species of “Christian Judaism,” or something else entirely can be left to others; for my purposes I simply note that James writes his letter relying almost entirely on the literature and tradition of Israel and remains silent on most of the central themes and terminology that would identify it as deriving specifically from the early Jesus movement. While Jesus’s teaching echoes here and there in the letter, he is never cited as a source, and there is no mention of his deeds, character, crucifixion, or resurrection. There are no references to baptism, Eucharist, the Holy Spirit, or any wider movement or ministry associated with Jesus. There are repeated calls to honor the law, but no reference to the gospel; OT prophesy is highlighted, but there is no indication that prophecy has been fulfilled; he appeals to Jewish wisdom literature, but offers no reflection on Jesus as the embodiment of this wisdom. Indeed, he promotes a variety of saintly models for the reader’s emulation (Abraham and Rahab, Elijah and the Prophets, Job), but Jesus is not among them. All of them derive from the OT. The two areas where James’s association with emerging Christianity is clearly revealed is in its echoes of Jesus’s sayings (which, like those of Paul, seem intentionally allusive but are never attributed) and, more explicitly, in the literary relationships between his letter and other authoritative early Christian literature. We have seen that a strong case can be made that James is literarily dependent on an apostolic letter collection including the letters of Paul and, at the very least, the first letter of Peter. If this is indeed the case, how might we account for (a) the unwaveringly Jewish perspective of James and apparent disregard of distinctive features of

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the early Christian movement with (b) its apparent desire to draw the reader’s attention to earlier Christian literature, and (c) its second-century production? Dating James in the second century allows us to view the letter as one Christian’s attempt to reassert the authoritative literature and tradition of Judaism in an era when the Jewish roots of the Christian movement were either being obscured by a species of Pauline thought or directly challenged through the sort of Paulinism that produced figures like Marcion of Sinope. To be clear, connecting the letter of James with the “Marcion problem” need not lock us into a direct engagement with the historical figure himself. Here we do not speak necessarily of the historical Marcion (who is, in any case, lost to us in the fog of Christian apologetics), but Marcion the specter who haunted the church long after his death, and, no doubt, had many prior incarnations in those who would in one way or another draw overly sharp distinctions between the God of the scriptures and the God revealed in the person and work of Jesus. Having said this, we need not automatically rule out an indirect engagement with the historical Marcion either; William Farmer has reminded us that Marcion’s trial in Rome ca. 144 allows us to assume a birth somewhere in the 80s, which could then place the emergence of his influence as early as 110 CE (Farmer 1985). And of all the proposed locales for the composition of James, the most frequently supported is Rome, due to the preponderance of parallels between James and other Rome-related writings, especially Romans, 1 Peter, 1 Clement, and the Shepherd of Hermas. Regardless, reading James with “Marcionite” Paulinism in mind makes sense. Among the most central themes of James is the unwavering defense of God as understood in the history and literature of Israel. Against those who would assert that the God of the Jewish scriptures is a Demiurge ruling beneath a higher God of love, James upholds the Jewish insistence that God is one (2:19); against those who would assert that this God is capricious, James insists God is haplos—sincere, open, and generous (1:5) and unchanging (1:17); against those who charge this God with maliciousness, James asserts that God is not tempted to do evil, and does not tempt others (1:13); against anyone who might take Paul’s oppositional rhetoric too far, opposing the word of the Gospel with the word of Torah, James insists that the word of God is transhistorical, expressed in creation (1:18-21) and the giving of Torah (1:22-25) as well as the wisdom of God revealed from above (3:13-18) and the powerful prophetic word (5:17-18); again, against those who would reject the law based on Paul’s rhetorical association of it with bondage, slavery, desire, and death (e.g., Rom. 7:6-11; Gal. 2:4, 24–26), James insists the law is perfect and liberating (1:25; 2:12) and desire and death are entities which dwell entirely within the human heart (1:13-16). Indeed, while Marcion was reported to have rejected the Jerusalem apostles because they were too closely aligned with Judaism (Adv. Marc. 5:3), the letter of James is written by the apostle of Christ whose traditional portrait depicted him as the one most overtly associated with Judaism—see especially the portrait of Hegesippus, preserved for us in Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 2.23), where James is described as a follower of Jesus who is a devout, priestlike Jewish leader honored by disciple and Pharisee alike. While the available historical evidence will not permit certainty, if James is indeed a second-century

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document dependent on previous apostolic writings, it certainly reads like a text written at least in part in reaction to the Marcionite challenge. Viewed from this angle, James’s direct appeal to the earliest materials would be intended to draw our minds back to what Paul wrote, to reconsider the entirety of his witness in light of a new situation where the presenting issue—Gentile inclusion in God’s covenant community—had been largely resolved. If this is the case, we should read James as an invitation to reread Paul, to work our way back through his multivalent collection of letters to see if he does indeed teach what some people believe him to be teaching. This is precisely how the first theologians who made use of James utilized the letter; they saw it as a helpful corrective against anyone who would separate faith from obedience or the new covenant of Christianity from the earlier covenant with Judaism (see, e.g., Origen, Comm. Jn. 20.10.66; Comm. Rom. 2.9; 4.1, 8; Augustine, De fide et operibus 21–26). On this reading it would be incorrect to consider James a simple example of anti-Pauline polemic (Hengel 1987; Lüdemann 1989). Instead, James would be understood precisely how readers of the Christian canon receive it today, as a corrective for Paulinists who read Paul in a manner that promotes a Christianity cut loose from its Jewish moorings. Far from helping us more clearly identify the ancient “parting of the ways” between Judaism and Christianity, the letter of James represents an attempt to reinstate the essential unity of the two, reminding readers that anyone who wants to become more Christian must become more Jewish (Wall 1997: 301).

References Achtemeier, P. (1996), 1 Peter, Hermeneia, Philadelphia: Fortress Press. Allison, D. (2013), James: A Critical and Exegetical Commentary, International Critical Commentary, New York: T&T Clark. Avemarie, F. (2001), “Die Werke des Gesetzes im Spiegel des Jakobusbriefs,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 98: 282–309. Bauckham, R. (1995), “James and the Jerusalem Church,” in R. Bauckham (ed.), The Book of Acts in its First Century Setting, 415–80, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Childs, B. S. (2008), The Church’s Guide for Reading Paul: The Canonical Shaping of the Pauline Corpus, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Cuvillier, E. (2011), “‘Jacques’ et ‘Paul’ en débat: L’Epître de Jacques et la tradition paulienne,” Novum Testamentum 53: 273–91. Dibelius, M. (1976), James, Hermeneia, Philadelphia: Fortress. Dunn, J. (1988), Romans 1–8, Word Biblical Commentary 38A, Waco: Word Books. Elliott, J. K. (2000), 1 Peter, Anchor Bible Commentary 37B, New York: Doubleday. Farmer, D. (1985), “Some Critical Reflections on Second Peter: A Response to a Paper on Second Peter by Denis Farkasfalvy,” Second Century 5 (1): 30–46. Feldmeier, R. (2008), The First Letter of Peter: A Commentary on the Greek Text, Waco: Baylor University Press. Hays, R. (2002), The Faith of Jesus Christ: The Narrative Substructure of Galatians 3:1- 4:11, Biblical Resource Series 56, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans.

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Hengel, M. (1987), “Der Jakobusbrief als antipaulinische Polemik,” in G.F. Hawthorne, and O. Betz (eds.), Tradition and Interpretation in the New Testament: Essays in Honor of E. Earle Ellis for his 60th Birthday, 248–78, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Jackson-McCabe, M, ed. (2007), Jewish Christianity Reconsidered: Rethinking Ancient Groups and Texts, Philadelphia: Fortress. Konradt, M. (2003), “Der Jakobusbrief als Brief des Jakobus: Erwägungen zum historischen Kontext des Jakobusbriefes im Licht der traditionsgeschichtlichen Beziehungen zum 1 Petrusbrief und zum Hintergrund der Autorfiktion,” in P. von Gemünden, M. Konradt, and G. Theissen (eds.), Der Jakobusbrief: Beiträge zur Aufwertung der “strohernen Epistel,” Münster: Lit Verlag, 16–53. Lieu, J. (2002), Neither Jew Nor Greek? Constructing Early Christianity, New York: T&T Clark. Lieu, J. (2006), Christian Identity in the Jewish and Greco-Roman World, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lockett, D. (2008), Purity and Worldview in the Epistle of James, Library of New Testament Studies, New York: T&T Clark. Lüdemann, G. (1989), Opposition to Paul in Jewish Christianity, trans. M. E. Boring, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Massebieau, L. (1895), “L’epître de Jacques: est-elle l’œuvre d’un chrétien?,” Revue de l’histoire des religions 32: 249–83. Mitchell, M. (2007), “The Letter of James as a Document of Paulinism,” in Reading James with New Eyes, R. L. Webb and J. Kloppenborg (eds.), 75–98, New York: T&T Clark. Moo, D. J. (2008), The Letter of James, The Pillar New Testament commentary, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Nienhuis, D. R. (2007), Not by Paul Alone: The Formation of the Catholic Epistle Collection and the Christian Canon, Waco: Baylor University Press. Nienhuis, D. R., and R. W. Wall (2013), Reading the Epistles of James, Peter, John and Jude as Scripture: The Shaping and Shape of a Canonical Collection, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Pelikan, J., H. C. Oswald and H. T. Lehmann (1999), Luther’s Works, vol. 54: Table Talk, Philadelphia: Fortress. Penner, T. (1996), The Epistle of James and Eschatology, Journal for the study of the New Testament, Supplement Series 121, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic. Pervo, R. (2010), The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in Early Christianity, Philadelphia: Fortress. Popkes, W. (1997), “The Composition of James and Intertextuality,” Studia theologica 51: 91–112. Pratscher, W. (1987), Der Herrenbruder Jakobus und die Jakobustradition, Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 139, Göttingen: Vandenhoek and Ruprecht. Soards, M. L. (1987), “The Early Christian Interpretation of Abraham and the Place of James within that Context,” Irish Biblical Studies 9: 18–26. Spitta, F. (1896), Der Brief des Jakobus untersucht, Göttingen: Vandenhoek & Ruprecht. Verseput, D. J. (1997), “Reworking the puzzle of faith and deeds in James 2:14-26,” New Testament Studies 43: 97–115. Wall, R. W. (1997), Community of the Wise: The Letter of James, Valley Forge: Trinity Press International.

Chapter 18 GENTILE JUDAIZING IN THE DIALOGUE WITH TRYPHO: A TEST CASE FOR JUSTIN’S RECEPTION OF PAUL Benjamin White

Henry David Thoreau once observed that “in human intercourse the tragedy begins, not when there is misunderstanding about words, but when silence is not understood” (1873: 294). Thoreau was defending the communicative depth of silence while also conceding that silence was both uncomfortable and easily misread. Silences come in all sorts. Silences can be pregnant with meaning, intentionally or not, drawing us in so that we might comprehend them. There are also, however, empty silences; the kinds of silence that are neither strategic nor revealing. They just are. They are more like absence than silence, and absence can be different from silence (Jaworski 1993: 12, 34). The more contemporaneous we are to a silence, the more immediately we experience it, and the more comprehensively we understand its context, the better we are able to interpret it.1 When the intercourse is distant and only partially preserved, the reverse is true. The topic “Justin and Paul” requires us to think carefully about reading silence, for Justin never mentions the Apostle nor cites Pauline literature. Yet this absence has seemed so significant for many historians of early Christianity over the past two hundred years that an entire literature on “Justin and Paul” has developed. For these, the Apostle was the proverbial elephant in the room (Zerubavel 2006). In this chapter I will (1) situate the history of scholarship on “Justin and Paul” within the broader context of the reception of Paul’s Jewishness; (2) articulate several cautionary parameters within which future work on “Justin and Paul” should take place; and (3) explore how these parameters might help us to envision a more nuanced notion of a Justianic reception of Paul through their application to the

1. Jaworski (1993: 160) deems silence a “cool medium of communication” that “requires a high degree of participation and great involvement of the audience. Other things being equal, a listener has to invest more processing effort in maximizing the relevance of silence than of speech.”

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“Pauline” language of Dialogue 47, a passage in which Justin considers the fate of Judaizing Gentile believers in Jesus.

Narrativizing Paul’s Absence in Justin Pauline studies as an academic discipline began with the publication of Friedrich Schleiermacher’s pioneering work on 1 Timothy (1807). Schleiermacher was the first to question formally the authenticity of a canonical Pauline epistle, arguing that 1 Timothy was a forgery of the authentic 2 Timothy and Titus. His case was based on “non-Pauline” elements within the letter: unique phrases, numerous hapax legomena, and a disjointed style. “Non-Pauline,” of course, presumes a “Pauline” Archimedean point from which to launch an inquiry and one early review of Schleiermacher’s argument by W. M. L. De Wette hinted at its methodological problem: could not the authenticity of all the Pauline letters, when scrutinized this way, be questioned (1807: 220)? Over the course of the next forty years, at least within radical Protestant circles in Germany, the number of suspected Pauline forgeries grew from one to three (the Pastoral Epistles as a group), and then to nine in F. C. Baur’s Paulus, der Apostel Jesu Christi (1876 [1845]). The skeptical historiographical chickens finally came home to roost in the work of Bruno Bauer, who excluded all thirteen (1850–52). But only a few Dutch scholars followed Bauer, for the discipline of New Testament higher criticism was developing in Protestant Germany, where Luther and Luther’s Paul had become folk heroes. For F. C. Baur, the first systematician of Pauline Studies and admirer of both Schleiermacher’s subject-oriented theology and biblical criticism, the nonnegotiable Archimedean point for thinking about Paul was the Hauptbriefe (Romans, 1–2 Corinthians, Galatians), with anti-Catholic and antiJewish readings of Romans and Galatians providing the foundation. Baur’s Paul of the Hauptbriefe was not a Jew. The opening pages of his Paulus declare that Paul was responsible for Christianity, which “asserted itself as a separate, independent principle . . . and took its stand as a new enfranchised form of religious thought and life, essentially different from all the national peculiarities of Judaism” (1876: I.3). Baur did not deny that Saul, the Pharisee, had been a Jew. His apocalyptic conversion, however, ended all of that and there can be little doubt that the new ideas of the Christian consciousness which Stephen first propounded were the means of that profound impression which changed a Saul into a Paul, and not only so, but from the very moment of his change caused his conversion to Christianity and his call to be the Apostle of the Gentiles to be inseparably identified with each other in his mind, Gal i.15, 16. (1876: I.59)

Baur, as a figurehead for tendencies in the developing field of Pauline Studies, is important for our consideration of the history of Justin and Paul for several reasons. First, by stripping away everything from the historical Paul that muddied his notion

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of a dialectical Pauline universalism and assigning it later proto-Catholicism, Baur solidified the notion of a “Pauline Christianity”—a single Paulinism against which every literary vestige of the first several Christian centuries could be measured. Second, Baur aggrandized Paul’s role in the development of Christianity to such a degree that any failure to mention Paul or cite from Pauline literature in the first two Christian centuries meant that one was hiding something. Silence was not just a lack of consideration, but a willful avoidance. The key, moreover, to deciphering a text or author’s hidden relationship with Paulinism was the presence or absence of particular Judaizing tendencies. Baur’s work on the reception of Paul in Justin was anticipated by Karl Credner, among several others.2 Credner argued for “Judenchristen” tendencies in Justin, including his apparent agreement with Trypho, against Paul, that Christians should not eat meat sacrificed to idols (1832: I.97). Justin’s “strengste Stillschweigen” concerning Paul suggested to Credner that Justin stood in the middle “zwischen den Judenchristen seiner Zeit und den Anhängern der freieren Paulinischen Lehre” (I.99). Justin’s Christianity came to be marked by the tension of his early and significant encounters with “Petrinischen Christen” in Palestine (represented in the Pseudo-Clementine literature), where he was raised, and the increasing Pauline influences on the Catholic Church, for which Justin would become a theological foundation after moving to Rome (I.268–436). Thus Credner also found an occasionally subtle dependence on Paul in Justin, noting his citations of Deut. 21:23 and Deut. 27:16 according to their Pauline form (Gal. 3:10, 13) against the LXX (II.66). Noting Credner’s views on Justin and Paul is important so that Baur’s work will seem less like a completely new hypothesis and more like the systematization and radicalization of a developing framework. Familiar with Credner, Baur argued that Justin was the theological heir of the Jewish-Christianity that had opposed Paul during his own lifetime (1878 [1853]: 1.142–7). While less radical in open opposition to Paul than either the Ebionites or the communities that produced the Pseudo-Clementines, Justin’s Pauline silence suggested discomfort with “Paulinism,” which “finds the absolute contents of Christianity immediately in itself, in the spiritual consciousness which is awakened by faith, and for this consciousness everything connected with the Old Testament has only a very secondary importance” (1878: 1.144). Baur thought that any early Christian text that spent too much time dragging the “Old Testament” forward for the hermeneutical appropriation of the church smacked of Judaism, whether Hebrews, Barnabas, or the Dialogue with Trypho. Other grounds for suspicion of Justin were his benign attitude toward Jewish Christians (Dial. 47), his aversion to meat sacrificed to idols (Dial. 35), and his declaration of Christ as “the New Lawgiver” (Dial. 18). Even if, as Albrecht Ritschl had claimed, Paul’s emphasis on Abraham’s justification by faith was influential on Justin, the latter did “not wish to be [a Paulinist] in name”

2. Cf. Rensberger (1981: 3–53), for an extended history of nineteenth- and early twentieth-century work on the relationship between Justin and Paul.

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(1878: 1.147). Justin’s silence spoke voluminously within Baur’s Hegelian reading of early Christianity, wherein Paulinism functioned as a significant and explosive rupturing movement. Reactions to Baur’s oversimplified and sometimes fanciful dialectical reading of early Christianity, including the Jewish-Christian influence on Justin, came swiftly from prominent contemporary critics, including most notably Ritschl (1857 [1850]: 298–311). Yet while Baur’s larger framework crumbled on numerous grounds, his assertions about Paul’s religion as well as a prominent secondcentury anti-Paulinism continued to exert considerable influence and opened up an ongoing and wide-ranging conversation about the Apostle’s legacy during the middle of the second century. Patristic references to the Ebionites’s rejection of Paul still provided the solid anchor point. As proponents of a “Judenchristen” influence on Justin became less numerous as the nineteenth century progressed, other explanations for his Pauline silence were offered. The common denominator of these was the simple observation that silence about does not necessarily mean rejection of or antipathy toward Paul. Johann Otto saw numerous traces of Pauline language in Justin and argued that the absence of overt Pauline citations was due to Justin’s rhetorical contexts. Both the Jewish audience of the Dialogue and Marcion’s influence in Rome made arguing from Paul counterproductive. Justin’s occasional deployment of Pauline language, however, indicated that he was not antagonistic toward the Apostle (1842: 51–54; cf. Zahn 1975 [1888–92]: 1.559–66). By the late nineteenth century, Marcion, in particular, began to take center stage in explanations for Paul’s absence in some second-century authors. Adolf von Harnack and Walter Bauer were among the numerous scholars who would begin to place Marcion and other “heretics” front and center in their descriptions of the early reception of Paul. Together, they provided a powerful and influential narrative of Paul’s “captivity” in the second century. Harnack argued that Justin and other proto-Catholics faced a certain embarrassment over (though having no lack of fondness for) Paul because of the ease by which their opponents made use of him. The Apostle was, in this sense, held captive by the other side (1964 [1909]: 382–86). Harnack’s Marcion was chiefly a Pauline theologian. In fact, Marcion was the first Reformer, since he, like Luther, Baur, and Harnack himself, among generations of Protestant thinkers, understood justification by faith alone as the de-Judaized apocalyptic center of Paul’s theology (1990 [1921]). It was Harnack who most clearly stated the view from the broad German tradition that we saw in Baur regarding Christianity’s relationship to the “Old Testament,” in general, and Paul’s relationship with it, in particular: Marcion was the only Gentile Christian who understood Paul, and even he misunderstood him: the rest never got beyond the appropriation of particular Pauline sayings, and exhibited no comprehension especially of the theology of the Apostle, so far as in it the universalism of Christianity as a religion is proved, even without recourse to Moralism and without putting a new construction on the Old Testament religion. (1901 [1885]: 1:89–90)

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On account of Marcion’s appropriation of the Apostle, Justin was wary of invoking him in public discourse. The use of Paul’s letters within larger proto-Catholicism, however, prevented a wholesale abandonment of him. Irenaeus’s elevation of Acts and the Pastoral Epistles was eventually able to win Paul back from the heretics (1964 [1909]: 1.379–86; 1990 [1921]: 131–32). Walter Bauer’s now famous and ground-shifting thesis—that an originally diverse Christianity was snuffed out by the growing proto-catholic church of Rome—took over much of Harnack’s position (minus the philo-Marcionism). While Christian thinkers like Marcion and Valentinus were actively engaging Paul, Papias, Justin, and Hegesippus stood on the sidelines and watched (1934: 213–28). They had no choice in doing so until the Pastoral Epistles were forged to reclaim Paul from those with “myths and endless genealogies” (1 Tim. 1:4), who proclaimed a “falsely called knowledge” through the use of “antitheses” (1 Tim. 6:20). The force of Harnack and Bauer and their Pauline Captivity narrative held sway into the second half of the twentieth century (White 2014: 27–41). Three major reappraisals of “Paul in the Second Century” at the turn of the 1980s, however, reset the context for thinking about Justin and Paul, taking apart the “Pauline Captivity” narrative piece by piece (White 2014: 43–49). Andreas Lindemann (1979), Ernst Dassmann (1979), and David Rensberger (1981), incorporating the evidence from Nag Hammadi into their accounts of the fate of Paul, argued convincingly, each in their separate ways, that

1. a robust reception of Paul within proto-Catholicism can be seen at the turn of the second century in the pseudo-Pauline literature, in the collection and publication of the Pauline letter canon, and in the use of Paul among the Apostolic Fathers; 2. while justification by faith alone was absent from the proto-Catholic reception of Paul in the second century, more than a few authors were interested in aspects of his theology; 3. when assessing Paul’s absence from certain second-century authors, any number of factors ought to be considered, including a writer’s geographical location and the genre of their particular text. Embarrassment over the Apostle was merely one possible cause; 4. just as many “Gnostic” texts “avoid” Paul as those from proto-orthodox circles; 5. alternative exegesis of Pauline epistles (rather than avoidance altogether) was a common response to an opponent’s reading of Paul; 6. no solid evidence exists for a widespread anti-Pauline movement continuing into the second century outside of maybe the Epistle of James and some pockets of marginal Jewish-Christian groups; and 7. the texts from Nag Hammadi show no real predilection for Paul over other Christian authorities. At the turn of the 1980s the “Pauline Captivity” narrative had been replaced with a story about “Pauline Fragmentation,” which saw both Paul’s image and the use of

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Pauline letters evolving in different directions among a variety of often competing Christian communities in the second century, none of which had a monopoly on Paul. Yet while the framework for understanding Paul’s reception in the second century had shifted, the historical Paul, himself, was still not understood primarily as a Second Temple Jew. The New Perspective was redrawing our picture of Second Temple Judaism, but its view of Paul’s relationship to his brethren according to the flesh still continued for many along the lines of Ed Sanders’s observation that “this is what Paul finds wrong in Judaism: it is not Christianity” (1977: 552).

Recommendations for Reading Justin alongside Paul The “Paul within Judiasm” movement of the last decade has now placed us in territory that looks very different from the history that I have described, which means that our evaluations about Justin’s reception of Paul must also change. The following series of recommendations should now frame our work on “Justin and Paul.” First, we cannot presume that the religion of the historical Paul was Protestant Christianity, or Christianity at all. Nor can we evaluate Justin’s reception of Paul based on a narrowly determined Paulinism rooted in the texts that were important for the Reformation. Rather, Justin would have received Paul within a broad corpus of Pauline texts and traditions, including texts that were only deemed non-Pauline in the nineteenth century. And if he had developed any systematic view about Paul’s legacy, we ought not to expect him to have found it where we have found it. Second, we must fully divorce our thinking about Justin and Paul from the Pauline Captivity narrative. The last remaining and largely intact piece of Baur’s original framework is the supposition that there was a widespread and sustained anti-Paulinism in the second century. But now even this has been challenged by those who have rightly questioned the anti-Paulinism of the Pseudo-Clementine literature and pointed out the variety of views among second-century Christbelieving Jews regarding the acceptability of Gentile Christians (Willitts 2012: 140–68). Once notions of a broad “Ebionism” have been cast aside, silences about Paul in the second century might take on other meanings, or no meaning at all. Third, each of Justin’s numerous argumentative contexts should be considered when interpreting both what he says and what he does not say. Thus the question about Justin and Paul cannot be divorced from consideration of genre and audience (both rhetorical and actual). Rensberger has shown, for instance, that Christian apologies of the second century tend not to cite Christian texts of any sort. Yet, the rhetorically intra-Christian literature of Tatian and Theophilus both deal with the figure of Paul (1981: 105–07; 162–92; 264–75; 279–93; 335–37). We would probably have a lot more to say about Justin’s reception of Paul, then, if his Against Marcion had been preserved (Iren., Adv. Haer. IV.6.2). Fourth, methodological care should be taken when discerning whether or not a word or phrase (or citation from the Old Testament) in Justin comes directly from

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Paul, is mediated to Justin from somewhere else but ultimately stems from Paul, or whether the two share in the reception of early Christian traditions without any particularly straightforward Pauline mediation occurring (cf. Skarsaune 1987). It is to be expected that different investigators will find varying numbers of Pauline echoes in Justin.3 The degree to which those possible echoes occur within similar argumentative contexts ought to be considered, but this cannot become a litmus test. The reception of Paul in the second century always involved a complex transformative act, wherein materials from the past were arranged for use in the present (White 2014: 70–107).

Dialogue with Trypho 47: Justin and Paul on Jewish Christians and Gentile Judaizing As a way of thinking about how these cautions might play out in a particular passage, I would like to highlight a number of potentially Pauline echoes in Dialogue with Trypho 47—an important section that deals both with Jewish Christ believers and with Judaizing Gentile Christ believers. In it, Justin opines on three soteriological categories. First, there are those who will be saved (Dial. 47.1). These include all those who follow Jesus as the Messiah, whether Jew or Gentile. A second soteriological category includes all those who will not be saved (Dial. 47.4). Justin numbers here all nonbelievers, Jew and Gentile alike, whether they are perpetually non-believing or once-believing and now apostate. One extended caveat, however, begins to muddy these two seemingly fixed categories. Justin does not accept as saved Jewish believers in Jesus, normally part of the saved, who proselytize Gentile believers toward Judaism (Dial. 47.1, 3). Their work to turn these Gentile Christians into Jewish proselytes signifies that they are not fully invested in Christian identity formation. Yet Justin’s caveat contains its own qualification. The targets of the missionaries will themselves, on the other hand, equally (ἴσως) be saved (Dial. 47.4).4 Justin’s soteriological generosity toward these Judaizers, according to Oskar Skarsaune, is on account of their being “victims” (2007: 511). An appeal to their victimization, however, is too simple. Is it the case that Justin envisions Gentile Christians who might have just begun to eat kosher and observe the Sabbath and, thus, who could be easily persuaded to back away? Are they merely “playing a Jewish game”

3. Cf. the differing lists in Barnett (1941: 231–47), Marcovich (2005 [1994/1997]: 173, 329), and Bobichon (2003: 2:1047–48). 4. ἴσως ranges in meaning from “perhaps” (Dial. 68.6; 85.3) to “probably” or “equally” (Dial. 8.4; 39.6; 47.4; 51.1). I follow Bobichon, Dialogue avec Tryphon, 1:303, who notes on Dial. 47.4: “C’est la même question (le Salut) qui préoccupe ici Justin, et Tryphon en 8, 4*, où apparaît le même adverbe. Mais si Justin peut émettre des réserves sur le Salut des judéo-chrétiens, Tryphon peut-il douter de celui qui procure le respect de la Loi?” (1:715).

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(Murray 2004: 91–100)? Some, perhaps, but Justin describes their Jewish, Christ-believing persuaders as advocating circumcision (Dial. 47.2), which opens up the likelihood that Justin has in mind the most extreme sort of Judaizing— adult, male conversion to Judaism (cf. LXX Esth. 8:17; Jos., War 2.454). Trypho had already, at the opening of the Dialogue, urged Justin to be circumcised and convert, with the result that he [Justin] would “equally (ἴσως) . . . experience the mercy of God” (Dial. 8.3; cf. 19.1)—an entreaty to which Justin refers here (Dial. 47.1). In Justin’s view, such an undertaking would have made him, as a “proselyte,” legally no different from the “native born,” having been “incorporated into the body of your people” (Dial. 123.1). That Justin envisions wholesale conversion can be seen not only in his reference to circumcision, but also in his use of ἐκ παντὸς in Dial. 47.3: “[they] compel those who believe in this Christ from among the Gentiles to live in complete accordance (ἐκ παντὸς) with the Law drawn up by Moses.” As in the numerous other places that he uses this adverbial phrase, it possesses here a totalizing sense. Ἐκ παντὸς is then reinforced by Justin’s description of such persons as having “transferred over to the way of life characterized by Law” (Dial. 47.4; μεταβαίνειν ἐπὶ τὴν ἔννομον πολιτείαν).5 Normally used in narrative sequences to describe human movement from one place to another, μεταβαίνειν can also signify an existential transformation from one state of being to another (Jn 5:24; 1 Jn 3:14; Philo, Migr. Abr. 139; Jos., War 3.381; Life 149). It verges, in these instances, on the idea of conversion. Justin’s language comes closest to the description in 2 Maccabees of Antiochus Epiphanes’s attempt to convert Jerusalem to a Greek πολιτεῦμα: μετ᾽οὐ πολὺν δὲ χρόνον ἐξαπέστειλεν ὁ βασιλεὺς γέροντα Ἀθηναῖον ἀναγκά ζειν τοὺς Ιουδαίους μεταβαίνειν ἀπὸ τῶν πατρίων νόμων καὶ τοῖς τοῦ θεοῦ νόμοις μὴ πολιτεύεσθαι. (2 Macc. 6:1)

Justin’s Judaizers, thus, are not the same as Luke’s “God-fearers.” Nor are they Ignatius’s “Judaizers” (Magn. 10.3). Rather, Justin refers to those who are persuaded to take decisive steps toward conversion to Christ-believing Judaism (cf. Buell 2005: 113). This kind of soteriological and ecclesial magnanimity from Justin potentially explodes his attempt to divide off Christians from Jews. Why he would do this is a tough question that I have attempted to address elsewhere.6 For our purposes, I merely want to point out the thematic agreement and linguistic parallels between Dialogue 47 and Paul’s epistles to the Romans and Galatians—particularly those portions of the latter two texts that deal with matters of commensality and other forms of multiethnic sharing in Christ. Justin argues that Jewish and Gentile

5. Justin also uses several synonymous phrases: τοὺς κατὰ τὸν νόμον τὸν Μωσέως πολιτευσαμένους (Dial. 45.3); and διὰ τὸ ἐννόμως πολιτεύεσθαι (Dial. 67.2, 4). 6. Cf. “Justin between Paul and the Heretics: The Salvation of Christian Judaizers in the Dialogue with Trypho,” Journal of Early Christian Studies, 26 (2018): 163–89.

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Christ believers ought to “share conversations and meals” with their “brothers and sisters”; in short, as he says, “to live” together (Dial. 47.2). While tagging the former as “weak in judgment” if they want to continue to obey the Torah, he advocates, with Paul, for mutual Christian “fellowship” with and “hospitality” toward those who were previously strangers. The common themes and language between Dialogue 47.2 and Rom. 14–15 are palpable:7 Shared language

Dialogue 47

Romans 14–15

“meals,” “eating,” and “food”

ἑστίας (2)

φαγεῖν; τὸν (μὴ) ἐσθίοντα; ὁ (μὴ) ἐσθίων; ἐσθίει (Rom. 14:1-3); βρῶμα (Rom. 14:15)

“weakness in judgment/ faith/capability”

τὸ ἀσθενὲς τῆς γνώμης (2)

Τὸν δὲ ἀσθενοῦντα τῇ πίστει (Rom. 14:1); τὰ ἀσθενήματα τῶν ἀδυνάτων (Rom. 15:1)

“to welcome in hospitality”

προσλαμβάνεσθαι (2)

προσλαμβάνεσθε (Rom. 14:1; 15:7); προσελάβ ετο (Rom. 14:1)

“brothers and sisters”

ἀδελφοῖς (2)

τὸν ἀδελφόν; τῷ ἀδελφῷ; ὁ ἀδελφός (Rom. 14:10, 13, 15)

“fellowship” and “sharing”

κοινωνεῖν (2, 3)

εὐδόκησαν γὰρ Μακεδονία καὶ Ἀχαΐα κοινωνίαν τινὰ ποιήσασθαι (Rom. 15:26); ἐκοιν ώνησαν τὰ ἔθνη (Rom. 15:27)

“to hope in Christ”

ἐπὶ τοῦτον τὸν Χριστὸν ἐλπίζειν (2)

ἐπ᾽ αὐτῷ ἔθνη ἐλπιοῦσιν (Rom. 15:12)

Ultimately, for both Justin and Paul, the “confession of Christ,” rather than “living according to the [Mosaic] Law,” became the central organizing concept for (the true) Israel (of God): Shared language “to live according to the law”

Dialogue 47 κατὰ τὸν . . . νόμον . . . ζῆν (3); ζῶντας κατὰ τὸν νόμον (4)

“to confess Christ/ τὴν εἰς τὸν Χριστὸν τοῦ θεοῦ ὁμο Jesus” λογίαν (4); Τοὺς ὁμολογήσαντ ας . . . τοῦτον εἶναι τὸν Χριστὸν (4)

Romans 10 Μωϋσῆς γὰρ γράφει τὴν δικαιοσύν ην τὴν ἐκ [τοῦ] νόμου ὅτι ὁ ποιήσας αὐτὰ ἄνθρωπος ζήσεται ἐν αὐτοῖς (Rom. 10:5) ἐὰν ὁμολογήσῃς ἐν τῷ στόματί σου κύριον Ἰησοῦν (Rom. 10:9)

Problems arose for both Justin and Paul when these differences in custom and conscience were not respected between “the circumcised” and the “Gentiles.” Justin condemns Christ-believing Jews who “compel” and “persuade” their fellow

7. I agree with Watson (1986) and numerous others that Rom. 14:1–15:6 describe problems between Christ-believing Jewish and Gentile house communities in Rome over the matter of table fellowship and kosher meals. I am neither persuaded by Nanos (1996: 85–165), that the “weak” are non-Christ-believing Jews, nor Das (2011: 101–03), that the weak are Judaizing Gentile Christ believers.

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Christ-believing Gentiles to be circumcised like themselves and “live according to the Law,” which was “drawn up by Moses.” Parallels with Galatians are numerous:8 Shared language

Dialogue 47

Galatians

“to compel/persuade/ desire[Gentiles] to be circumcised/live according to the Law/Judaize”

Πείθοντες τοὺς περιτέμνεσθαι (2); κατὰ τὸν . . . νόμον . . . ἀναγκάζωσι ζῆν . . . τοὺς ἐξ ἐθνῶν (3)

ἀλλ᾽οὐδὲ Τίτος ὁ σὺν ἐμοί, Ἕλλην ὤν, ἠναγκάσθη περιτμηθῆναι (Gal. 2:3); ἔθνη ἀναγκάζεις ἰουδαΐζειν (Gal. 2:14); ἀναγκάζουσιν ὑμᾶς περιτέμνεσθαι (Gal. 6:12); θέλουσιν ὑμᾶς περιτέμνεσθαι (Gal. 6:13)

“circumcised”

περιτμηθέντας (1)

περιτομήν (Gal. 2:9); οἱ περιτεμνόμενοι (Gal. 6:13)

“from the seed of Abraham”

τοὺς ἀπὸ τοῦ σπέρματος τοῦ Ἀβραὰμ (4)

τῷ δὲ Ἀβραὰμ ἐρρέθησαν αἱ ἐπαγγελίαι καὶ τῷ σπέρματι αὐτοῦ (Gal. 3:16)

“the law(s) drawn up by Moses/angels”

ἐκ τῶν Μωσέως . . . διατετάχθαι ὁ νόμος . . . διαταγεὶς δι᾽ἀγγέλων ἐν (2); κατὰ τὸν διὰ Μωσέως διατα χειρὶ μεσίτου (Gal. 3:19) χθέντα νόμον (3)

“to guard the matters (pertaining to the Law)”

ταῦτα φυλάσσειν (1); ταῦτα φυλάξωσιν (1); ταῦτα φυλάξω (1); τὰ ὅσα δύνανται φυλάσσειν (2)

νόμον φυλάσσουσιν (Gal. 6:13)

Possible echoes of Paul become less frequent, however, from Dial. 47.4 onward, when Justin begins to discuss the so-called victims of such religious compulsion. Whereas Justin says that Gentile Christians who Judaize, up to and including the act of circumcision, will “equally” be saved, Paul has a diametrically opposite view: Listen! I, Paul, am telling you that if you let yourselves be circumcised, Christ will be of no benefit to you. . . . You who want to be justified by the Law have cut yourselves off from Christ; you have fallen away from grace. (Gal. 5:2-4)

What are we to make of this series of similarities between Justin and Paul, mixed together with their one glaring difference on the matter of Gentile conversion to Judaism? Is Justin dependent on Romans and Galatians here? And what would

8. The numerous exegetical problems related to the Antioch Incident (Gal. 2:11-21) are found in Nanos (2002: 199–318). Regardless of how one understands the specifics of the shared meals, I believe that the best reading of Paul’s accusation in Gal. 2:14 is to understand “Judaize” to mean “convert to Judaism” (notice the double-use of ἀναγκάζω in 2:3 and 2:14, followed, respectively, by περιτέμνω and Ἰουδαΐζω, which tie the Jerusalem Conference and the Antioch Incident together). Paul sees Cephas’s withdrawal from the meals as indicating that Christ-believing Gentiles were in need of converting to Judaism in order to participate in eschatological Israel.

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“dependence” mean in this case? First, at the macro level, it has been hard for anyone to imagine that Justin could have coexisted in Rome with Marcion and Valentinus and been unaware of numerous Pauline epistles. As I mentioned above, the preservation of Justin’s Against Marcion would have likely provided opportunity to peer into Justin’s reading of Paul. Second, the absence of Paul as an explicitly cited Christian authority in the Dialogue with Trypho, in particular, seems to be a by-product of the way that Justin wants to argue his case, giving pride of place to the Jewish Scriptures (Dial. 32.2; cf. 68.1). Indeed, his constructed interlocutor required it: In fact, we would not have listened to you thus far, had you not constantly cited the Scriptures in your attempts to prove your point, and had you not stated that there is no God superior to the Creator of the world. (Dial. 56.16)

Justin only sprinkles in a few lines of Jesus material (the “memoirs of the apostles”) throughout the Dialogue as a way of portraying Trypho as one who was an investigator of Christian truth (Dial. 18.1). The Jewish Scriptures (plus a little Jesus material) were sufficient to make his case. Justin’s being a friend or foe of Paul—the question that dominated early thinking about their relationship—seems largely irrelevant given the literary shape of the Dialogue. Third, potential echoes of Paul here are like those in the rest of the Dialogue: isolated words or short phrases. Yet their density at a place in Justin’s argument where there are larger thematic parallels with the very texts that they echo (Galatians and Romans 14–15) make them look quite Pauline in origin, particularly given Justin’s overall insistence on Jewish and Gentile commensality in Christ. Fourth, if Justin is dependent on Paul here, his use of the Pauline tradition is complex and resists simplistic notions of Justin as either a friend or foe of Paul. He largely retains Pauline language and views, while also departing sharply from him in places. Indeed, this is what we should have expected all along. Every reception of the Apostle, whether ancient or modern, is a complex negotiation of the past with the present, of fixity and fluidity, of continuity and change. Justin’s reception of Pauline texts is thus “transformative,” as Rodney Werline has persuasively argued (1999: 79–93).

Conclusion What happened to Paul’s Jewishness in the second century? Who circumcised it? Such a question can have only come into view in the past decade, as a third viable option to the “Lutheran” and “New Perspective” lineages of Pauline interpretation has developed. If Romans and Galatians represent a coherently Jewish argument about the impermissibility (if not impossibility) of Gentiles becoming proselytes to Judaism, as Matthew Thiessen has recently argued, then what has Justin done with these texts (2011; 2016)? Making use of Pauline language and agreeing with many of the impulses toward interethnic κοινωνία found in them, Justin has

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departed from the Apostle at a more fundamental level. It is quite a surprising move given the overall rhetorical thrust of the Dialogue. In the matter of Gentile conversion to Judaism, he approximates the view of Paul’s opponents in Galatia. Whether or not he has realized his departure from the texts that he echoes (and whether or not he cared) is unclear. What is more clear, in my view, is that what was an intra-Jewish debate about the permissibility of Gentile conversion to Judaism has become for Justin an intra-Christian debate about the same issue (Dial. 47.2: “There are,” I answered, “O Trypho, also those who do not even dare to share conversation or a meal with such persons. With these I do not agree.”). As I have argued elsewhere, the Marcionite threat looms over the Dialogue and has forced Justin, in his attempt to erect clear divisions between Christianity and Judaism, to open up space for Judaizing impulses among Gentile Christ believers.9 In other words, the same Dialogue wages two rhetorical wars at the same time. And the Pauline tradition is stuck in between. So, while Justin’s Pauline “silence” has little to do with Marcion, his transformation of the Pauline tradition in Romans and Galatians has everything to do with the Pontic Wolf.

References Barnett, A. (1941), Paul Becomes a Literary Influence, Chicago: University of Chicago. Bauer, B. (1850–52), Kritik der paulinishen Briefe, 3 vols., Berlin: Hempel. Bauer, W. (1971 [1934]), Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity, Philadelphia: Fortress. Baur, F. C. (1876 [1845]), Paul, the Apostle of Jesus Christ: His Life and Works, His Epistles and Teachings, trans. A Menzies, 2 vols., Peabody, MA: Hendrickson. Baur, F. C. (1878–79 [1853–60]), The Church History of the First Three Centuries, trans. A. Menzies, 2 vols., 3rd ed., London: Williams and Northgate. Bobichon, P. (2003), Justin Martyr: Dialogue avec Tryphon, Paradosis 47/1–2, 2 vols., Fribourg: Academic. Buell, D. (2005), Why This New Race: Ethnic Reasoning in Early Christianity, New York: Columbia University. Credner, K. (1832–38), Beiträge zur Einleitung in die biblischen Schriften, 2 vols., Halle: Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses. Das, A. (2011), “‘Praise the Lord, All you Gentiles’: The Encoded Audience of Romans 15.7–13,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 34 (1): 90–110. Dassmann, E. (1979), Der Stachel im Fleisch: Paulus in der frühchristlichen Literatur bis Irenäus, Münster: Aschendorff. De Wette, W. M. L. (1807), Jenaische Allgemeinen Literaturzeitung 4 (255–256): 217–32. Harnack, A. (1901 [1885]), History of Dogma, trans. N. Buchanan, 7 vols., Boston: Little, Brown, and Co. Harnack, A. (1964 [1909]), Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte, 4th ed., 3 vols., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft.

9. Cf. “Justin between Paul and the Heretics,” Journal of Early Christian Studies, 26 (2018): 163–89.

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Harnack, A. (1990 [1921]), Marcion: The Gospel of the Alien God, trans. J. E. Steely and L. D. Bierma, Durham, NC: Labyrinth. Jaworski, A. (1993), The Power of Silence: Social and Pragmatic Perspectives, Language and Language Behaviors 1, Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Lindemann, A. (1979), Paulus im ältesten Christentum: Das Bild des Apostels und die Rezeption der paulinischen Theologie in der frühchristlichen Literatur bis Marcion, Beiträge zur historischen Theologie 58, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Marcovich, M., ed. (2005 [1994/1997]), Iustini Martyris: Apologiae pro Christianis/ Dialogus cum Tryphone, PTS 38/47, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Murray, M. (2004), Playing a Jewish Game: Gentile Christian Judaizing in the First and Second Centuries CE, Studies in Christianity and Judaism 13, Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University. Nanos, M. (1996), The Mystery of Romans: The Jewish Context of Paul’s Letter, Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress. Otto, J. (1842), “Bezeihungen auf Paulinische Briefe bei Justin dem Märtyrer und dem Verfasser des Briefes an Diognet,” Zeitschrift für historische Theologie 12 (2): 41–57. Rensberger, D. (1981), “As the Apostle Teaches: The Development of the Use of Paul’s Letters in Second-Century Christianity,” PhD diss, Yale University, New Haven. Ritschl, A. (1857 [1850]), Die Entstehung der altkatholischen Kirche, 2nd ed., Bonn: Marcus. Sanders, E. P. (1977), Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion, Minneapolis: Fortress. Schleiermacher, F. (1807), Über den sogennanten ersten Brief des Paulus an den Timotheos: Ein kritisches Sendschreibung an J.C. Gass, Berlin: Realschulbuch. Skarsaune, O. (1987), The Proof from Prophecy: A Study in Justin Martyr’s ProofText Tradition: Text-Type, Provenance, Theological Profile, Novum Testamentum, Supplements 66, Leiden: Brill. Skarsaune, O. (2007), “Evidence for Jewish Believers in Greek and Latin Patristic Literature,” in O. Skarsaune and R. Hvalvik (eds.), Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries, 505–67, Peabody, MA: Hendrickson. Thiessen, M. (2011), Contesting Conversion: Genealogy, Circumcision, and Identity in Ancient Judaism and Christianity, New York: Oxford University. Thiessen, M. (2016), Paul and the Gentile Problem, New York: Oxford University. Thoreau, H. D. (1873), A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers, Boston: James R. Osgood and Company. Watson, F. (1986), Paul, Judaism, and the Gentiles: A Sociological Approach, Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series 56, Cambridge: Cambridge University. Werline, R. (1999), “The Transformation of Pauline Arguments in Justin Martyr’s Dialogue with Trypho,” Harvard Theological Review 92 (1): 79–93. White, B. (2014), Remembering Paul: Ancient and Modern Contests over the Image of the Apostle, New York: Oxford University. White, B. (2018), “Justin between Paul and the Heretics: The Salvation of Christian Judaizers in the Dialogue with Trypho,” Journal of Early Christian Studies, 26 (2018): 163–89. Willitts, J. (2012), “Paul and Jewish Christians in the Second Century,” in M. Bird and J. Dodson (eds.), Paul and the Second Century, Library of New Testament Studies 412, 140–68, London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark. Zahn, T. (1975 [1888–92]), Geschichte des Neutestamentlichen Kanons, 2 vols., Hildesheim: Georg Olms. Zerubavel, E. (2006), The Elephant in the Room: Silence and Denial in Everyday Life, New York: Oxford University.

Part VI S EARCHING FOR OTHER R ECEPTIONS OF P AUL THE S ECOND T EMPLE J EW

Chapter 19 “AS IF BY PAUL?” SOME REMARKS ON THE TEXTUAL STRATEGY OF ANONYMITY IN HEBREWS Gabriella Gelardini

Introduction—Hebrews: Pauline or not Pauline, or “somehow” connected to a Pauline environment The facts are clear: The book commonly known as the Epistle to the Hebrews mentions neither an author nor an addressee. There is no address. Besides, no solid evidence exists to support hypotheses that an original address or praescriptum disappeared or was removed during transmission. Indeed, any such claims are purely speculative. Thus, Hebrews remains an anonymous piece of writing. Only its conclusion in 13:22-25 and the previous admonitions in 13:18-21 resemble elements of epistolary postscripts such as those found in the Pauline letters. This, but especially the mention of a Timothy and the greetings from “those from Italy” in Heb. 13:23-24, has inspired readers since antiquity and throughout the history of reception to attribute Hebrews to Paul, to well-known figures from his letters and the Acts of the Apostles, or to other prominent persons in New Testament prosopography.1 Already since the oldest papyrus witness P46, the textual transmission of Hebrews hints at the book’s attribution to Paul. Because, on the one hand, the subscriptio ΠΡΟΣ ΕΒΡΑΙΟΥΣ reveals a conformity with the titles given to Pauline community letters, a practice “current already in second-century Alexandria prior to any manuscript attestation of Hebrews” (Attridge 2001: 12). And because, on the other hand, the position of Hebrews within the collection of Pauline letters in P46, immediately after Romans and before 1 Corinthians, seems to insinuate its Pauline character. This organizing principle (also evident in some later manuscripts) is plainly apparent, since it discontinues the otherwise common practice of placing the letters in descending order according to their respective length. Some scholars therefore suggest that P46 follows a “preferred organizing principle,” namely, that “according to the addressee” (Backhaus 1993: 183–208,

1. For a detailed and elaborate presentation of the history of interpretation of Hebrews, see especially Koester (2001: 19–63).

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esp. 198; Karrer 2002: 36). Recently, however, Clare K. Rothschild has drawn a different conclusion from this arrangement in P46. This, she argues, indicates “that Hebrews was added to this collection as an explanatory letter . . . as a reading guide or instructional appendix, as if by Paul, for Romans” (2009b: 537–73, esp. 539 and 538). I shall return to this argument. The attribution of Hebrews to Paul or, for instance, to his collaborator Barnabas (according to Tertullian) was not generally accepted at first. Rather, it became canonical as it were in “the late Old Church” and lasted “until the end of the Middle Ages” (Karrer 2002: 37). Thereafter, however, it was called into question. Theologians now began searching for a supposedly real author, who, they were convinced, was not Paul. Thus, Luther pointed to Apollos. And Calvin, perhaps even more remarkably, gestured toward reception history: As to its author, we need not be greatly worried. Some think that the author was Paul, others Luke, others Barnabas, and others Clement, as Jerome says; yet Eusebius, in the sixth book of his Church History, mentions only Luke and Clement. I well know that in the time of Chrysostom it was received everywhere by the Greeks as among the Pauline epistles; but the Latins thought otherwise, especially those who were nearest to the apostolic times.

He added: I can adduce no reason to show that Paul was its author. .  .  . The manner of teaching and the style sufficiently show that Paul was not the author, and the writer himself confesses in the second chapter that he was one of the disciples of the apostles, which is wholly different from the way in which Paul spoke of himself. (Hagen 1981: 58)

Calvin refers to Heb. 2:1-4, thus to the very verses where the author speaks in a kind of self-description of himself and his addressees in terms of their place in the chain of tradition. Calvin does not take from the puzzle of Hebrews a new or old solution, for example, by introducing a name of the author previously mentioned or a new one. Hebrews, for him, was not written by Paul, but instead comes from apostolic tradition and authority. Author and addressees belong to a third generation after God’s speaking through the Lord (Jesus Christ). Notably, Calvin does not merely exclude a Pauline authorship by advancing a number of exegetical and stylistic arguments. Just as significantly, he does not even establish a special relationship with Paulinism or a School of Paul—despite the mention of Timothy in Heb. 13:23. I shall return to this point later. Modern interpretation also tends to exclude a Pauline or Deutero-Pauline origin. Not least in view of the epistolary conclusion, which is now widely regarded as an integral part of the book,2 various scholars have argued that a sociohistorical

2. There are, however, exceptions, such as Gräßer (1990–97, 1:17-22; see also 3:409–10).

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connection with Paul’s school must have existed. At the same time, however, the theological independence of Hebrews is stressed (see, for instance, Backhaus 1993: 183–208). Unlike Harold W. Attridge, who excludes any connection with Paul (2001: 30), Martin Karrer, for instance, contends, The author represents a non-Pauline theology, which he does not conceal in the style of chapters 1–13. Then, at the end, however, he shows his readers that a deep attachment to the life of the Pauline circle exists despite theological differences.3

Karrer makes a methodological virtue out of necessity—the indissoluble anonymity of author and addressees—by applying the theory of aesthetic response. Thus, he analyzes Hebrews in terms of one of this theory’s basic claims, namely, that the implicit author guides the implicit reader through the text (see Karrer 2002: 31–32). Attridge, one of the most vocal detractors of any relationship between Hebrews and Paul, even asserts that “there is little warrant for seeing the distinctive positions of Hebrews as inspired by or derived from Paul” (2001: 30). By contrast, Rothschild and others have recently taken a diametrically opposed view. The title of her monograph Hebrews as Pseudepigraphon (2009a) reflects one of her main claims: “Hebrews should be classified as a Pauline [my italics] pseudepigraphon,” because “although Paul’s name does not occur in the text, the postscript makes a claim to Paul’s authorship, particularly through appropriation of autobiographical details of Paul’s life as the author’s own” (2009a: 215). Rothschild argues that the text, which was not written by Paul himself of course, “composed the postscript in imitation of Paul in order to pass off the text as one of his prison letters” (2009a: 4). She adds, “The postscript is a deliberate forgery by an otherwise unknown early Christian author, claiming Paul’s authorship for a work he composed to be published as part of an existing corpus Paulinum” (2009a: 4). The author’s guidance to the reader, or rather his “deception,” is confirmed by the “overwhelming success” in “Hebrews’s reception history . . . up until the Reformation” (2009a: 5). Rothschild interprets this as the intended pseudepigraphic strategy of Hebrews (2009a: 116); especially the postscript is “a pseudonymous claim” (2009a: 78). She understands this as an unknown author’s attempt to introduce his text as “Paul’s testament or ‘last word’ to his fellow Jews”: “Thus, Hebrews was most likely written, as if by Paul, as a tool for understanding the corpus, in particular, Romans” (2009a: 153). Rothschild makes this point already earlier on (see footnote 156 in her monograph) and elaborated it further in her aforementioned article “Hebrews as a Guide to Reading Romans.” The latter makes the following key arguments:

3. Karrer (2008: 474–95, esp. 478): “Der Autor vertritt eine nichtpaulinische Theologie und überspielt das im Duktus von Kap. 1–13 nicht. Dann, am Ende, jedoch zeigt er seinen Leser/innen, es gebe trotz theologischer Differenzen eine tiefe Lebensverbundenheit zum paulinischen Kreis.”

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1. In ancient times, “epistolary fictions” were added in collections of letters as a reading guide or “hermeneutical lens” (2009b: 537). This was proposed, for instance, for Paul’s collection of letters in regard to 1 Timothy. 2. A number of striking correspondences exist between the citations from or the allusions to the Jewish Bible between Hebrews and Paul’s letters, not least between Hebrews and Romans, for example, Hab. 2:4 in Rom. 1:17 (Gal. 3:11) and Heb. 10:37-38. 3. There are “common postscript elements” between Hebrews 13, not least Romans (2009b: 550–57). 4. There are “echoes of Romans in Hebrews 13” and Heb. 1–12, not least in regard to the concept of ἱλαστήριον in Rom. 3:25 and Heb. 9:5 and ἐφάπαξ in Rom. 6:10 and Heb. 9:26-28 (2009b: 559–72). Unquestionably, Rothschild has made a witty and perceptive argumentative contribution to the debate. And yet we must still ask whether a critical reading needs to distinguish the guidance given to the reader of Hebrews from what (even ancient) readers have believed Hebrews was intending ever since papyrus P46. Positioning Hebrews after Romans, and adding to it the subscription “To Hebrews,” may possibly have served the purpose that Hebrews should be read as an instructive appendix to Romans. But this is the guidance given to the reader, for example, by the collectors of P46. After all, the Book of Hebrews is not an explicit Pauline pseudepigraphon, quite simply because its author and addressees remain anonymous. And if any “implicit” pseudepigraphy existed, it would be an ascription by and conjecture of readers, and most certainly an open question. Either way, it seems to me that a basic methodological distinction is required: namely, between a text’s plainly pseudepigraphic strategy and reading a text as a pseudepigraphon, even though it was passed down without the name of a pseudonymous author (or addressee). Along with others, I am therefore questioning whether the actual anonymity (and not an allegedly intended and hence disputable pseudonymity) of author and addressees is in itself a literary strategy whose intentions must be discovered.4 Before considering some of Rothschild’s arguments, I shall make a brief excursion into reception aesthetics. Two of its main exponents are Wolfgang Iser and Umberto Eco.

Anonymity as a Literary Strategy In his famous book The Act of Reading (1978), German literary critic Wolfgang Iser observes that Henry James’s novella “The Figure in the Carpet” distinguished two

4. See, for instance, Kampling (2005: 11–34, esp. 34): “Die Anonymität des Autors ist Bestandteil seiner literarischen Strategie”; see also Karrer (2002: 76).

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types of critical reading or textual interpretation (not semantic, to use Umberto Eco’s well-known concept, which distinguishes between the semantic or naïve and the critical reader [1992: 43–46]). That is, one presents one’s detective’s badge, in order to elicit from the text an alleged secret as its meaning, namely an exact message or name. The other approach, which is favored by Iser and, according to his interpretation, by James’s novella, is interested less in revealing a clear-cut secret, which can then be summarized in a word or a sentence, than in discovering a kind of image like a figure in a Persian carpet. If a hidden meaning exists, the text is consumed when its secret is revealed. Its author, moreover, experiences a sense of “loss.”5 He or she is exposed to a certain extent, just as its (hidden) message, which should now be deciphered. If it is, then the (purported) meaning becomes consistent even beyond the text, which in turn becomes redundant. According to Iser, however, some texts do not simply produce a meaning that is fully tangible, and hence available, to the attentive (critical) reader. Their “meaning” can only be grasped like the very image or figure in the carpet, which has no authentic reference as such. Thus the author instructs readers to use their own imagination and to interact with the text. Readers must strike a “deal” with the text, by responding to its “triggered activity” and joining its situation. Meaning is not simply explainable by one word or sentence, but has to be experienced in an act of response. Semantic readers and, albeit on another level, critical readers have to be co-creative or co-productive. Thus, critical readers are expected to perform their duty toward the text by deciphering it along its explicit lines of meaning or by following the author’s guidance (Leserlenkung). Moreover, semantic readers and, given their special way of reading, critical interpreters should not only reconstruct but also construct the potential meaning residing in the text. The “critical reader,” however, has to safeguard the limits of interpretative reading. Or as Umberto Eco explains (1992), while critical readers may acknowledge that texts are actually used as “a playground for an unlimited semiosis,” they must realize that the tendency to equate such semiosis with critical reading or interpretation does not rule out the necessary distinction between readerly arbitrariness and critical interpretation (1992: 440–41). In short, a text’s meaning is not everything we choose to make of it. Crucial to reception aesthetics is Iser’s theory of blanks or gaps (Leerstellen) or indeterminacy (Unbestimmtheitsstellen) in texts, which the reader must fill or determine through interpretation. The strategic vacancy or indeterminacy left in the text by the author requires the reader’s activity. Thus, while the text delineates or prefigures a path, the critical reader must discover where it leads (or does not lead) using his or her expertise and imagination. Regarding the absence of a clearly named author and addressee in Hebrews, Iser’s theory has one decisive advantage. Not only does it ask what is said (perhaps hidden, but unequivocally hinting at something tangible) in the text,

5. Iser (1978: 4): “If interpretation consists in forcing the hidden meaning from a text, then it is only logical to construe the process as resulting in a loss for the author.”

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but it also respects what is not said and hence left open or remains suspended in indeterminacy. This, however, seems to me exactly what Hebrews is doing: the book prevents the reader from clearly determining its author’s name and that of his or her addressees. They are deliberately kept anonymous (a literary strategy well known and investigated also in regard to the Gospel of John; see, for instance, Charlesworth 1995: xiv–xvi et passim). At least at the end of the book there is a kind of postscript, which is indeed not dissimilar from those of Paul’s letters, especially Romans. Failing any names, the identity of writer and addressees remain subject to conjecture. Paradoxically, Timothy, the only person mentioned by name in the postscriptal passage of Hebrews, cannot be its author. Thus, no real pseudepigraphon is available with Hebrews, nor does closer scrutiny even help to curb speculation about the author’s or addressees’ identity beyond reasonable doubt. Therefore, the more or less ingenious hints at the author’s identity in the reception history of Hebrews—from Paul to Barnabas, from Apollos to Prisca, even to Jesus’s mother Mary—are commanding proofs of a literary strategy that triggers readers’ creativity (and fantasies). But since there are limits to critical interpretation, one has to admit that there is no way to disambiguate the identity of author and addressees. And if the self-portrayal in Heb. 2:1-4 more likely matches the generation after Paul, in no way does it exclude Paul’s surroundings or disciples. To that effect, a “semantic reader”—to cite Eco’s distinction—inspired by the specified traces in the text might be tempted to decode the “figure in the carpet” as pointing to Paul. But even if this reading has been preferred since Christian antiquity, from that same time readers have also conjectured that the author comes from Paul’s circle, for instance, Barnabas, or might be someone else, even Peter. Luther thought of Apollos and Harnack has brought into play Priscilla—perhaps influenced by a belief widespread since the times of Goethe, that especially female authors concealed their authorship not seldom by means of anonymity. But a “critical reader” must admit that a “figure in the carpet” is only a vague, rather blurred image, which even raises the question whether the textual strategy of Hebrews is deliberately aimed at this vagueness and thus at inviting conjecture. Is the author playing on—and with—his or her identity (and that of his or her addressees)? According to Rainer Kampling, whom I referred to above, “the anonymity of the author is part of his literary strategy” (2005: 34; see also Karrer 2002: 92–93 and Wolter 1988: 1–16). It is worth mentioning that Eco took up Iser’s ingenious deliberations on Henry James’s “The Figure in the Carpet” and refers to Joyce’s Ulysses, which reveals that “how Joyce has acted in a way that has led to many alternative figures in the carpet, without deciding which is the best.” I repeat: “without deciding which is the best” (see 1992: 45). Does this mean that not even critical analysis is able to disclose the secret, nor should it be? This is indeed what Eco suggests. In other words, it could be a literary strategy in itself to keep deliberately secret or suspended any possible “solution” by anonymizing author and addressees. While avoiding, or not employing (explicit) pseudonymity or pseudepigraphy, a well-known and much-practiced literary strategy, Hebrews at the same time opens up multiple (interpretative) options without, however, “deciding which is the best.”

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When Calvin therefore leaves open any specific identification, he may have proven himself to be one of Eco’s perceptive and astute critical readers. Of course, while his hint at the “disciples of the apostles” (in the self-portrayal of the author and addressees in Heb. 2:1-4) points to the concept of the apostles, that occurs only once, when Jesus is called an “apostle and high priest of our confession” (Heb.  3:1), perhaps not without intent nor without a polemic undertone. This, however, is debatable (see Karrer 2002: 191–92). Thus, the generalization “disciples of apostles” does not seem felicitous. But, of course, Calvin depicts a certain epoch or age of the beginning of the “confession,” which later was characterized as the “apostolic” era. Therefore, many alternative figures may mean that the author intended not to be identified as a specific figure among the “apostolic” personnel. And the critical reader John Calvin may have been right not to continue the traditional way of identifying any particular figure as the author of Hebrews, but to leave this task to the “disciples of the apostles.” So if Hebrews, quite like the Pastoral Epistles, had named a particular, albeit pseudonymous author or any particulars addressees, albeit pseudonymously, its author may have invented those names. But rebus sic stantibus one has to wonder why he or she did not do so. What the author implies, especially with the postscript, simply remains vague, even if in the encyclopedia of readers from ancient times to this day the text activates certain potential names like Paul, his coworkers, and so on. While eliciting multiple possible choices, at the same time the author—to speak with Eco—“narcotizes” clear-cut identification within said encyclopedia. So while the literary strategy of anonymity can spark into life the reader’s activity to solve the obvious riddle about the author and his or her addressees, it discourages any unequivocal solution whatsoever. This leaves me wondering whether the auctor ad Hebraeos seeks to link himself or herself and the book to the noble environment of the second, especially the Pauline Jesus movement, and thereby to ennoble himself or herself—only, however, to stop short of identifying himself or herself explicitly with a prominent name, thus preserving his or her own originality and self-reliance. Already Franz Overbeck had read Hebrews as a “Melchizedekian being without a genealogy” in the early Christian history of literature, just like the prominent figure Melchizedek of Hebrews: ἀγενεαλόγητος.6 Below, I discuss various aspects of Clare K. Rothschild’s article, in which she tries to justify her hypothesis that Hebrews was written “as a guide to reading Romans.” I do so anticipating my own conclusion that there is indeed evidence to suggest that the subsequent reception of Hebrews, not least starting with the collection of Paul’s letters in P46, wants readers to see the text if not exactly as a

6. Overbeck (1994: 391–461, esp. 393): “Man kann von diesem Brief, mit Anwendung seiner eigenen seltsamsten Allegorien auf ihn, sagen, dass er im Kanon von dem nach seiner historischen Entstehung fragenden Betrachter wie ein melchisedikitisches Wesen ohne Stammbaum dasteht.”

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guide to Romans then as its Pauline extension. Save that it is difficult to prove that this thinking was evident to the auctor ad Hebraeos.

Habakkuk 2:4 in Hebrews and Paul In Heb. 10:37-38, we find a citation from Hab. 2:3-4, which is introduced by a fragmentary quote from Isa. 26:20: ἔτι γὰρ μικρὸν ὅσον ὅσον, ὁ ἐρχόμενος ἥξει καὶ οὐ χρονίσει· ὁ δὲ δίκαιός μου ἐκ πίστεως ζήσεται, καὶ ἐὰν ὑποστείληται, οὐκ εὐδοκεῖ ἡ ψυχή μου ἐν αὐτῷ. For yet a little while and the one who is coming will come and he shall not delay, but my righteous one will live by faith and if he shrinks back, my soul will not take delight in him. (translated according to Attridge 2001: 297)

The first part of Heb. 10:38, the citation from Hab. 2:4, also occurs in Rom. 1:17 (see also Gal. 3:11), albeit slightly differently: δικαιοσύνη γὰρ θεοῦ ἐν αὐτῷ ἀποκαλύπτεται ἐκ πίστεως εἰς πίστιν, καθὼς γέγραπται· ὁ δὲ δίκαιος ἐκ πίστεως ζήσεται. For in it righteousness of God is being revealed (or: occurs in appearance) on the basis/out of faith(fulness) into/toward faith(fulness), as it has been written: The one who is righteous on the basis/out of faith(fulness) shall live.

Hab. 2:4 is not cited elsewhere in the New Testament. This verse, in fact, belongs to several others that only occur in Hebrews and in Paul, six of seven particularly in Romans.7 I must first mention briefly the text-critical problems in the tradition of handwritten manuscripts of Hab. 2:4, which concern its initial part (also found in Paul) (Attridge 2001: 297, 302–03). While the testimonies vary strongly, they share a core element: “ὁ δὲ δίκαιός ἐκ πίστεως ζήσεται” (only the conjunction δέ is missing in Gal. 3:11). This corresponds to both the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint versions. Numerous and good witnesses add a pronoun “μου” after “δίκαιος” in Heb. 10:38 (like some witnesses in the LXX version of Hab. 2:4, and one single

7. For an overview of the scriptural correspondences between Hebrews and Paul, see Rothschild (2009b: 541).

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manuscript of Rom. 1:17, too). Others omit this pronoun entirely in Heb. 10:38, and still others (quite good witnesses, too) let the pronoun “μου” follow “πίστις” (like some manuscripts of the LXX version). This corresponds to the MT version, although that includes a third-person singular pronoun: “the righteous will live out of/by his (own) faithfulness.” This should be provided in 1QpHab, although for the scriptural citation itself there is a gap in the manuscript (but see the ‫ואמנתם‬: “their faithfulness or loyalty,” which in 1QpHab VIII 2-3 is interpreted as “their fidelity/ faithfulness to the righteous teacher or the Teacher of Righteousness”). Despite these different versions, the context is always the eschatological tribunal and/or the coming of God (or Christ), which corresponds to the eschatological horizon of God’s revelation announced in Habakkuk. It is possible to explain these variants in terms of a mutual influence between Hebrews, Paul, and the LXX. Here, however, I assume that the most plausible textual versions of Hebrews and Romans are those cited above; incidentally, these are also preferred in recent critical text editions (see, for instance, Nestle-Aland’s 28th edition). Attridge (2001: 301–04) has masterfully depicted the peculiar formation of the reception and interpretation of Hab. 2:3-4 in Hebrews and the complicated textual tradition since MT, namely, that of the LXX, 1QpHab, and Paul. He has drawn attention, among other things, to the fact that Hebrews citing Hab. 2:3-4 in Heb. 10:37 “depends on a Greek text close to LXX” (2001: 301). Already the LXX transposes the affirmation of the arrival of the vision’s announcement in the MT (see the figura etymologica) by gearing it toward a coming of a person: “ὅτι ἐρχόμενος ἥξει.”8 Hebrews reads this Christologically, as the definite article indicates: “ὁ ἐρχόμενος ἥξει.” In addition, instead of the subjunctive in the LXX, καὶ οὐ μὴ χρονίσῃ (and he will not delay), Hebrews uses the future tense, καὶ οὐ χρονίσει (and he shall not delay). Obviously, the author of Hebrews admonishes the addressees in order to understand the presence of their suffering as an interim time before the approaching end. So despite persecutions, they should therefore continue their already proven endurance (ὑπομονή) to ensure their “greater and abiding possession,” their “great reward,” and the reception of “the promise” (Heb. 10:32-36). While the coming of the end, that is the coming of the “coming one,” Christ, still takes “a little while,” steadfastness and faithfulness will save their lives before “destruction” (ἀπώλεια) comes, while those among them who recede or fall or shrink away (ὑποστολή, ὑποστέλλω) will not escape the imminent eschatological demise (Heb. 10:38-39). Attridge emphasizes that “Hebrews’s use of Hab 2:4 is . . . distinct from the prominent use of the verse in Paul” (2001: 303), since “Hebrews’s citation of Habakkuk is not part of a polemical or apologetic argument,” that is,

8. Attridge correctly points to the inconsistency between the subject ὅρασις, which is a feminine, the masculine participle ἐρχόμενος, and the predicate ἥξει καὶ οὐ μὴ χρονίσῃ in LXX, but concludes that “the translators of the LXX probably construed the participle as personal” (2001: 302).

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“it does not isolate”—scilicet like Paul—“a principle of relationship to God that contrasts with others (such as “doing works”) (2001: 304). For Rothschild, Attridge and others have “overlooked, perhaps . . . the citations possible polemic or apology vis-à-vis Paul’s use of the passage in Romans,” since the “scriptural correspondences” between Heb. 10:38 and Rom. 1:17 reveal Hebrews recontextualizing Paul’s interpretations, often with specific objections in mind” (2009b: 548). What Rothschild here states as an objection, even as a “polemic or apology vis-à-vis Paul’s use of the passage” of Hab. 2:4, is that “for Paul, faith is the apprehension of a favorable relationship between human beings and God through Christ with special regard to apocalyptic judgment and cosmic restoration,” while “in contrast, faith in Hebrews is a principle guiding the relationship between the seen and the unseen (Heb 11:1)” (ibid.). Hebrews has “a Platonic or platonic-like view of the cosmos (e.g., Heb 8:5),” which intends to avoid the susceptibilities of an apocalyptic-cosmic concept in order to make it “impervious to the vicissitudes of history” (ibid.). It can basically be argued against Rothschild that Hebrews also has a cosmic theology. One need to merely recall the mention of Jesus’s promotion to a cosmic shepherd/king at the end of the book (Heb. 13:20: Ὁ δὲ θεὸς τῆς εἰρήνης, ὁ ἀναγαγὼν ἐκ νεκρῶν τὸν ποιμένα τῶν προβάτων τὸν μέγαν ἐν αἵματι διαθήκης αἰωνίου, τὸν κύριον ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦν) and its corresponding opening in Heb. 1:3-13, where “the author celebrates the enthronement of Jesus as the Son, who sat down at the right hand of God and whose enemies have been subjected to him” (Whitlark 2016: 155–80, esp. 171). The notion of the “heavenly tabernacle” is also hardly a metaphor (Moffitt 2016: 259–82), but an (imagined) real space. Recent applications of Edward W. Soja’s “spatial theory” to Hebrews have opened some new insights concerning space in general and cosmic space in particular (see, for instance, Berquist 2016: 181–93, Aitken 2016: 194–209, and Gelardini 2016: 210–37). Essentially, one needs to ask whether and how a Platonic concept is applied in Hebrews in the first place. Lately, this assumption has been increasingly criticized (see, for instance, Moffitt 2011). But even if some elements of Hebrews are reminiscent of Platonic conceptions, they are employed in a special context of eschatological exhortation as already mentioned. Part of this admonition, moreover, is that “faith(fulness)” (πίστις) is defined as “a confidence/reality of things hoped for, the reproof of things unseen” (Heb. 11:1). Indeed, “πίστις” guides the believer “between the seen and the unseen,” but at the same time it serves as a “guide” from earth to the heavenly tabernacle, “where Jesus has entered as a forerunner of us” (Heb. 6:20). As for the citation of Hab. 2:4, indeed both Hebrews and Romans have an apocalyptic or eschatological framework of “salvation” (Rom. 1:16: σωτηρία) or “preservation” (Heb. 10:39: περιποίησις), of the “wrath of God” (Rom. 1:18: ὀργὴ θεοῦ) or “destruction” (Heb. 10:39: ἀπώλεια). For both, moreover, redemption means “(eternal) life,” which connotes or is founded upon righteousness on the basis of (or: out of) faith(fulness). According to Rom. 1:17, it is the revelation of God’s righteousness that takes effect in “God’s power for salvation to all who have faith” (Rom. 1:16). There are different versions of Hebrews in this respect.

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Some witnesses add the pronoun “my” after “πίστις,” others after “δίκαιος,” as mentioned. Presumably, both versions invoke a comparable idea, because the first clearly means God’s faithfulness: “But the righteous will live by my faithfulness.”9 So when Rom. 1:17 speaks of God’s righteousness, some witnesses for Heb. 8:37 speak of God’s righteous one, others of God’s faithfulness. I do not wish to suggest, however, that the use of Hab. 2:4 reveals no differences between Paul and Hebrews. In my view, Paul accentuates the role of faith mainly in the context of his notion of the initial obtaining of a status of righteousness, which rescues him from condemnation in the final judgment. What is gained in experience from the revelation of God’s justice on the basis of pistis implements what is foretold in Scripture, namely, that as a result of faith(fulness) the righteous one will live forever and will not perish in the wrath of God. Faith(fulness) is the basis of the transformation from the status of a sinner or unjust one to that of a righteous one. Hebrews, in contrast, accentuates that faith is the force that gives the righteous the strength to remain righteous despite ongoing troubles and to attain the eschatological goal, the “promise.” Therefore, pistis in Paul denotes the constitutive condition of (future) salvation on the human side, while denotation of pistis in Hebrews rather concerns the viability of the (future) rescue. Certainly for Paul, faith (as fidelity) must also be proven by those who have been made righteous, in patience or perseverance under afflictions (cf. Rom. 5:1-11: Having been made righteous on the basis of faith). Hebrews also discusses the constitution of the participation in the promise, as linked to the discourse on the self-sacrifice of the High Priest Jesus Christ. Yet even in this soteriological respect, remarkable correspondences and differences exist between Hebrews and Paul, as I show below.

Jesus as Mercy Seat (ἱλαστήριον) in Heb. 9:5 and in Rom. 3:25? The word “ἱλαστήριον” is a nominalized adjective neuter. It occurs only twice in the New Testament (Rom. 3:25 and Heb. 9:5), but over twenty times in the Septuagint. Its word formation (see, for instance, Zahn 1910: 184–88; Eschner 2010: 45) strongly suggests that a place or location of some specific action (according to the underlying verb) is referred to either explicitly or metaphorically, through which an additional range of meaning is conveyed. Roughly equivalent is the word “βουλευτήριον.” It means a place where councilors gather to deliberate, that is, a council chamber or a council room (in 1 Macc. 12:3, it is clearly the Senate in Rome; the Vulgate therefore translates: curia). “Δικαστήριον” is a place where judges decide, that is, a court. An offering of thanks is a “χαριστήριον.” And a “θυσιαστήριον” is a place where priests offer sacrifice, that is, an altar. A “φυλακτήριον” is the place where guards perform their duties; thus it is a watchtower or a prison, but metaphorically also a protective means such

9. For Paul’s relating of “πίστις” to God, see Rom. 3:3.

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as an amulet. Thus, Mt. 23:5 speaks of tefillin as “φυλακτήρια” (“phylacteries”). In the Nunc dimittis, the aged Simeon utters the following words when he sees the child Jesus: “My eyes have seen τὸ σωτήριόν σου” (Lk. 2:30). Now, this does not simply mean “My eyes have seen your salvation or redemption,” but rather “Seeing this child I have seen the one, through whom God mediates his salvation.” Accordingly, a word carrying the definite article “ἱλαστήριον” mostly means a certain place from where atonement or the prevention of disaster is expected; therefore especially the “‫ ַכּפֶֹּרת‬kapporet,” that is, the top of or the covering plate on the Ark of the Covenant is called “τὸ ἱλαστήριον.”10 Notably, when the kapporet is introduced into the Septuagint for the first time in Exod. 25:17, the definite article is still missing: “Kαὶ ποιήσεις ἱλαστήριον ἐπίθεμα χρυσίου καθαροῦ”—“And you shall make as a propitiatory a cover of pure gold.”11 Apparently, the general meaning of the word for propitiatory or propitiation (place or means) is provided. A (special) cultic context of sacrifice can, but need not, play a role. Basically, however, it is always implied that the propitiatory or propitiation should avert or prevent impending disaster caused by divine (but also human) wrath or retaliation. Therefore “ἱλαστήριον” sometimes denotes a consecration gift or a votive offering (in German: Weihegabe), as in Josephus, Ant. 16.182. So after Herod committed sacrilege by robbing the grave of David and Solomon, a fire consumed two of his bodyguards: περίφοβος δ᾿ αὐτὸς ἐξῄει, καὶ τοῦ δέους ἱλαστήριον μνῆμα λευκῆς πέτρας ἐπὶ τῷ στομίῳ κατεσκευάσατο πολυτελὲς τῇ δαπάνῃ.

Whiston translates (1987): So he was terribly affrighted, and went out, and built a propitiatory monument of that fright he had been in; and this of white stone, at the mouth of the sepulcher, and that at great expense also.12

Herod appeased his fear of divine wrath because of the serious sacrilege he had committed. Comparable is a passage in Dio Chrysostom, where the Trojan

10. Even the surrounds of the altar of the burnt offering (not only the kapporet) are called hilastérion (see Ezek. 45:19)—as are later Christian churches or monasteries, albeit often in the plural: hilastéria. 11. And thus the new German translation of the LXX: “Und du sollst als Sühnestätte eine Deckplatte aus reinem Gold machen.” NETS translates instead: “And you shall make a propitiatory as a cover of pure gold.” Both versions are certainly possible. 12. It is not unambiguous as to whether “ἱλαστήριον” is a substantive or an accusative of the adjective “ἱλαστήριος.”

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horse of the Greeks is called a propitiatory or votive offering, “ἱλαστήριον,”13 to the goddess Athena of Ilion (Troj. 11.121). Of course this propitiatory was only a pretext, and in truth a stratagem. But here “ἱλαστήριον” is also combined with the idea of placation, which aims to avert impending (divine) wrath or retaliation. Rothschild reads Heb. 9:5 as specifying the “interpretation of Paul’s reference to Jesus as mercy seat” or “propitiation” in Rom. 3:25 (2009b: 566). She assumes that Paul also uses the technical meaning of “ἱλαστήριον” here to denote the cover on the Ark of the Covenant (‫ )ַכּפֶֹּרת‬in the holy of holies at the temple of Jerusalem. Rothschild maintains that Rom. 3:25 also alludes to Lev. 16:13-15, whereas only Heb. 9:5 and its context cites from this passage explicitly. To be sure, Rothschild has highlighted decisive points in the theological argumentation of Hebrews, not least that not only do the “regulations for the Day of Atonement” and the “new covenant” loom large here, but also that “in the larger context of Heb 8:1–10:18 the passage constitutes an exegetical homily on Jesus’s sacrificial act” (2009b: 565). The question, however, is whether Paul—in Rom. 3:25 and its context— unambiguously refers to Yom Kippur and the kapporet. There is indeed a long tradition of interpreting Rom. 3:25 in this way—from Origen to the present.14 Conversely, however, does this very interpretation not read Rom. 3:25 from the perspective of a reader who has also read Hebrews? Of course, the author of Hebrews could have done so, too, as an alleged reader of Romans. And if he or she did indeed do so, Rothschild may have a point. Importantly, however, there is a difference between modern readers of Rom. 3:25 and Rothschild’s theory, since her interpretation supposes a reading of Romans by the auctor ad Hebraeos and even considers the work as a purposeful explanatory guide to Romans, which is far from certain or unanimously agreed. The readings of Rom. 3:25 vary strongly.15 (1) Some support the suggestion that by mentioning the word “ἱλαστήριον” Paul refers typologically to the kapporet and the blood ritual on the Day of Atonement. (2) Others prefer a reference to the notion of the martyrological theology represented, for instance, in 4 Macc.  17:21-22. (3) The third interpretation refers to the concept of the placation of a God or Goddess to avert their feared disastrous wrath. (4) The fourth proposal, finally, privileges a general concept of expiation or absolution of sins. At least some indications, philological and contextual, exist that “ἱλαστήριον” in Rom.  3:25 does not refer to the kapporet.16 If the word were supposed to point to this special single thing, one would (justifiably) expect the definite article. Already

13. Interestingly enough, as a synonym for “ἱλαστήριον” the context here gives “ἀνάθεμα,” which Paul also uses in Rom. 9:3 to characterize his votive offer to be banned from Christ instead of his siblings. 14. Emphatically supported most recently by Jewett (2007: 283–87). 15. For a terse overview, see Wolter (2014: 258). Important, too, is Morris (1955/56: 33–43). For a detailed analysis in the context of the kapporet, see Stökl Ben Ezra (2003). 16. For a short overview of arguments against the interpretation of “ἱλαστήριον” referring to the kapporet, see Seeley (1990: 20).

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Zahn felicitously argued that “the name of only one existing object . . . could not be used by implication predicatively as a generic term.”17 Although contested by some scholars, since the definite article in Greek has to be distinguished from its usage in English or German,18 it is clear that using the article refers to a particular single or categorical (as such well-known) thing, while anarthrous usage refers customarily to “non-particular” things and is an appellativum (see Porter 1999: 103–14). Whereas context is crucial, of course, Cranfield plausibly argues that “in Rom 3 ἱλαστήριον is anarthrous, and there is nothing in the context which can be said to indicate unambiguously that the mercy seat is referred to” (1977: 215). One main argument to support the technical meaning of “ἱλαστήριον” as a “mercy seat” is the attributive syntagma “ἐν τῷ αὐτοῦ αἵματι,” since this could point to the blood ritual on Yom Kippur at the kapporet. Aside from the strange notion, however, that Jesus’s blood is applied to something (what exactly? the kapporet? the cross? Jesus himself?), a metonymical sense is preferable: his violent death (see Rom. 5:9; 1 Cor. 11:25; see also Rom. 3:15: their feet are swift to shed blood).19 “Blood” is not eo ipso an indication of a cultic sin offering or expiatory sacrifice. Comparable to Rom. 3:25 is 4 Macc. 17:22 in the context of the violent deaths of the Maccabean martyrs: Kαὶ διὰ τοῦ αἵματος τῶν εὐσεβῶν ἐκείνων καὶ τοῦ ἱλαστηρίου τοῦ θανάτου αὐτῶν ἡ θεία πρόνοια τὸν Ισραηλ προκακωθέντα διέσωσεν. And through the blood of those pious people and the propitiatory of their death, divine Providence preserved Israel, though before it had been afflicted. (NETS)

Most conclusive for me is therefore the third (but possibly also the fourth) type of interpretation (see, e.g., Schreiber 2006: 88–110; Eschner 2010: 33–63). I would translate Rom. 3:25: God has put forth (that is: he has publicly displayed, even metaphorically erected20) a propitiatory (votive offering?) through faith(fulness) in his blood (sc. Jesus’s violent death) for his manifesting of/to manifest his righteousness because of the passing over of previous sins/transgressions.

17. Zahn (1910: 186): “Der Name eines nur einmal existierenden Gegenstandes, der übrigens in dem Tempel, welchen P[au]l[us] kannte, gar nicht mehr vorhanden war, konnte nicht stillschweigend als Gattungsbegriff prädikativ verwendet werden.” 18. It is not really convincing that ἱλαστήριον as a predicative noun does not necessarily need the definite article (see, however, Stökl 2003: 201). 19. See Wolter (2014: 256). Somewhat inconsistently, however, Wolter later argues that in Rom. 3:25 Paul “indeed alludes to the great blood-ritual of the Day of Atonement” (p. 258). 20. It is debatable whether “προέθετο” in Rom. 3:25 refers to a decision (purpose) or to a public proclamation. Given my understanding of “ἱλαστήριον,” the verb could have a metaphorical meaning: to set or erect a propitiatory (monument). The sense of “public display” is supported by “εἰς ἔνδειξιν” in Rom. 3:25.

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Leaving open whether “διὰ [τῆς] πίστεως” refers to the believer’s faith (which is more probable) or God’s (or Jesus’s) faithfulness,21 it seems plausible that for Paul Jesus’s violent death is the price paid by God (!)22 for the “ἀπολύτρωσις,” the “setting free or release” (Rom. 3:24) from God’s wrath (Rom. 1:18: ὀργὴ θεοῦ ἀπ᾿ οὐρανοῦ ἐπὶ πᾶσαν ἀσέβειαν καὶ ἀδικίαν ἀνθρώπων). Therefore, the opening verses of Rom. 3:21-26 emphasize that although all have sinned without distinction, the believers (among them) have been made righteous through their faith in Jesus Christ “freely and through a gift/grace of God” (δωρεὰν τῇ αὐτοῦ χάριτι). Rothschild admits that “on its own it is difficult to prove that Hebrews’s homily on Jesus’s sacrificial act in 8:1–10:18 is necessarily a response to Rom 3:25,” but “the uniqueness of ἱλαστήριον in early Christian literature is telling but not definitive” (2009b: 566). I agree. Nevertheless, “Paul’s summative solution to the condicio humana in Romans” does not seem to make a “connection” between Hebrews and Paul “valid” (ibid.), on the contrary. And this, to be sure, is mere conjecture. When Rothschild contends that “without Romans the lengthy discussion of ritual atonement in Hebrews is almost anomalous in Early Christian literature” (ibid.), she makes an astonishing argument, since that discussion is the specialty of Hebrews. And what if the “anomaly” of Hebrews remains even without a “connection” to Paul?

Once for all (ἐφάπαξ) in Hebrews and Paul Rothschild quite rightly emphasizes the prominent meaning of the adverb “ἐφάπαξ” in the interpretation of Jesus’s death in Hebrews (7:27; 9:12; 10:10). Aside from Hebrews, this adverb occurs in the New Testament only in Rom. 6:10 and 1 Cor. 15:6. In 1 Corinthians, it refers to Jesus’s appearance after his resurrection and probably means “once” or “at one time,” whereas according to Rothschild and many other scholars “ἐφάπαξ” in Romans 6 and in Hebrews means “once for all.” This translation is understandable, although not necessarily unanimous.23 For Rothschild, Hebrews’s “central theme, the once-for-all death of Jesus, .  .  . most likely derives from Paul” (2009b: 566), even particularly from Rom. 6:10. Among others, she argues that out “of hundred and ninety-six hits Thesaurus Linguae

21. This would most probably have been rendered by a “διὰ” with an accusative. 22. See Eschner (2010: 36–41, 52–56). Eschner argues convincingly that “ἀπολύτρωσις” alludes to the notion of a means of payment or a contract of purchase (e.g., in redeeming a prisoner or slave), so that through his son’s violent death (blood) God himself pays a price in order to make righteous sinners, who believe and who “pass over” their previous transgressions. 23. Porter, for instance, translates “ἐφάπαξ” in Rom. 6:10 with “once” (1999: 251) and in Heb. 9:12 with “one time” (1999: 190).

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Graecae produces in a search for ‘ἐφάπαξ’ only two occurrences predate Paul’s letters” (2009b: 567–68). Summing up her arguments, however, she even claims: Absence of prior occurrences of the word ἐφάπαξ before Romans24 with prominence of the theme it signifies in Hebrews suggest that a primary motivation for the composition of Hebrews was to explain and develop the enthymeme in Rom. 6:10. (2009b: 569)

However, this conclusion seems to be somewhat daring and far-reaching. In Rom. 6:10, the relative clause “ὃ γὰρ ἀπέθανεν, τῇ ἁμαρτίᾳ ἀπέθανεν ἐφάπαξ· ὃ δὲ ζῇ, ζῇ τῷ θεῷ” could be translated: “For what (viz. Jesus’s death) he died, he died once (for all) in relation to sin, but what (viz. Jesus’s life) he lives, he lives in relation to God.” The first relative pronoun “ὃ” refers certainly to Rom. 6:9 (death will no longer execute lordship above him), while the second refers to Christ’s present life (from the perspective of believers) by virtue of his raising from the dead (Χριστὸς ἐγερθεὶς). His “life” is obviously characterized by a relationship to God and thus even by a connection with God and the heavenly realm of eternal life. Therefore, he actually died in relation to sin once and for all, and therefore, on account of his resurrection, “he dies no more” (6:9). Thus, the adverb “ἐφάπαξ” is indeed used emphatically. But the emphasis depends contextually on the proportion of the respective deaths—Christ’s and that of the believers. As those who were “baptized into his death” (6:3), the believers were even “buried with” Christ (6:4) and “have been joined with the likeness of (or: conformed to) his death” (6:5). So they have certainly also “died in relation to sin” (6:2), but not once for all, since their life on earth is still affected by a “mortal body” and “its desires” (6:12).25 Hence, the eternal life of Christ by virtue of his resurrection is not yet the reality of the believers in Christ, but their future: “We certainly shall (!) also (sc. be conformed) to his resurrection” (6:5). Currently, the believers “might walk in the newness of life” (6:4: καὶ ἡμεῖς ἐν καινότητι ζωῆς περιπατήσωμεν). The process of “merging” or “growing together” with Christ aims to attain the ultimate sameness with Christ’s status as the resurrected son of God and the equality with his perfect eternal life in heaven. But rebus sic stantibus, the believers are as yet in a different situation. On the one hand, they are still living in their “mortal body”; and on the other, they are already determined and equipped to as it were “walk in the newness of life.” Hence, the phrase “ἐν καινότητι ζωῆς” possibly underlines the fact that the believers are already affected by “life” in the full sense of eternal life, through the guidance of the spirit (see Rom. 7:6: ἐν καινότητι πνεύματος),26 but have not yet achieved the perfectness of Christ.

24. This formulation is capable of being misunderstood, since Rothschild herself acknowledges at least two pre-Pauline occurrences. 25. Notably, in Romans 6 “sin” and “desires” are connected to “body” and not to “flesh”—“σάρξ”: “τὸ σῶμα τῆς ἁμαρτίας (6:6) ἐν τῷ θνητῷ ὑμῶν σώματι (6:12).” 26. Here and there, the genitive may probably be a genitivus qualitatis: Newness, which consists of (or is determined by) life and effects in life; newness, which consists of (or is

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Thematically, but very characteristically, the usage of “ἐφάπαξ” in Hebrews seems quite unequal to Romans. In Heb. 7:27-28, the adverb emphasizes the difference between the human High Priests, who need to offer sacrifices “daily” or “each day,” “first for their own sins, then for the sins of the people,” and Jesus, who “has no need” to do so, but “he did this once (for all) when he offered himself.” The point of comparison is indeed the difference between the perfectness of Christ, as the “Son perfected forever” (7:28), and the ordinary earthly High Priest, that is, “every High Priest taken from human beings” (5:1: ἀρχιερεὺς ἐξ ἀνθρώπων λαμβανόμενος). This probably refers not only to the fact that Jesus had not to offer sacrifices for himself (because he was sinless: cf. 7:26: ἀρχιερεύς, ὅσιος ἄκακος ἀμίαντος, κεχωρισμένος ἀπὸ τῶν ἁμαρτωλῶν; 4:15: χωρὶς ἁμαρτίας), but also that his self-sacrifice and not “each day (or daily) sacrifices” (7:27) eliminated sins once for all (ἐφάπαξ) (see Attridge 2001: 213–14). Heb. 9:11-12 makes a distinction between Christ “as High Priest of the good things which have to come into being” (9:11) and the ordinary High Priest: 9:11 He entered, through the greater and more perfect tabernacle not made with hands, that is, not of this creation, 9:12 and he entered once for all into the most holy place not by the blood of goats and calves but by his own blood, and so he obtained (and/or: found) (for himself?)27 eternal redemption/ ransoming (λύτρωσις).28

Again, the contrast is between heaven and earth, animal sacrifices and the selfsacrifice of God’s son, the temporal and the eternal. “Christ’s unique and singular atoning offering, because it is consummated in the ‘true’ tabernacle where God is present, and more particularly because of its quality as an offering ‘through the eternal spirit’ (vs 14), has an everlasting effect” (Attridge 2001: 249). In Heb. 10:10, the argumentation of the passage 10:1-10 “on the heavenly sacrifice and the new covenant, comes to a climax” (Attridge 2001: 276): Through Christ’s self-sacrifice, the offering of his body (διὰ τῆς προσφορᾶς τοῦ σώματος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ), as the realization of God’s “will,” “we have been sanctified.” Since the adverb ἐφάπαξ occupies a final position it is not unambiguously clear whether it qualifies the sanctification of “we” as an everlasting process or Jesus’s “offering of his body” as an action once and for all (Koester 2001: 434). According to Knut Backhaus, the adverb “refers equally to Jesus’s redemptive act and its indisputable effect for the believer” (2009: 347). In any event, in this passage Hebrews once again contrasts the earthly sacrifices offered repeatedly (especially on the Day of Atonement; see 10:1 “year after year”) without completion or perfection (οὐδέποτε

determined by) spirit and effects in spirit (see 1 Cor. 15:44-49, where the resurrected body of the believers is called “spiritual body”—“σῶμα πνευματικόν”). 27. See Attridge (2001: 248–49). For a discussion of the possible double meaning of “εὑράμενος,” see Karrer (2002: 155). 28. The noun “λύτρωσις” is a hapaxlegomenon in Hebrews; see Attridge (2001: 248–49).

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δύναται τοὺς προσερχομένους τελειῶσαι) for the worshippers with the heavenly and perfect sacrifice of Christ. While the use of “ἐφάπαξ” in Hebrews and Romans addresses or rather contrasts perfectness and imperfectness, it differs considerably concerning the contrasted or opposed objects to which the adverb refers or does not refer. Of course, there are analogies, but one single adverb could hardly bear a construction of literary dependency.

Brief Conclusion I have argued that the conundrum of Hebrews is itself the product of its literary strategy of anonymity. From the earliest reception to the present, numerous attempts have been offered to resolve this mystery, with very diverse results. No unique and compelling solution exists. Clare K. Rothschild’s recent contributions advance the witty claim that Hebrews pursued a literary strategy in order to pose as a Pauline prison letter. Not only did Hebrews make out to have been written “as if by Paul,” but, as Rothschild suggests, it also makes additional, critical, and explanatory remarks in reference to the letters of Paul and especially to Romans. I have discussed some of her arguments about the analogies between Romans and Hebrews. My conclusion is that these analogies are not only not mandatory, but quite likely also the result of a presumed literary dependence. In general, a distinction needs to be drawn between the literary intention(s) of an author’s work and what readers have understood as being insinuated throughout reception history. We must therefore acknowledge that Hebrews already seems to have been subsumed under the Pauline letters by parts of the early tradition. There are also indications that Hebrews was attributed the function of serving as a complement and possibly also as an interpretative aid to Romans. As “critical” readers, however, we need to establish if this can be unequivocally demonstrated to be the work’s purpose. This is obviously not the case. Along with others, I therefore suggest that we respect the irreversible anonymity of the work, which might even be interpreted as its literary strategy.

References Aitken, E. B. (2016), “The Body of Jesus Outside the Eternal City: Mapping Ritual Space in the Epistle to the Hebrews,” in G. Gelardini and H. W. Attridge (eds.), Hebrews in Contexts, 194–209, Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity 91, Leiden: Brill. Attridge, H. W. (2001), The Epistle to the Hebrews: A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews, Hermeneia, Philadelphia: Fortress Press. Backhaus, K. (2009), Der Hebräerbrief. Regensburger Neues Testament, Regensburg: Pustet. Backhaus, K. (1993), “Der Hebräerbrief und die Paulus-Schule,” Biblische Zeitschrift 37: 183–208.

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Berquist, J. L. (2016), “Critical Spatiality and the Book of Hebrews,” in G. Gelardini and H. W. Attridge (eds.), Hebrews in Contexts, Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity 91, 181–93, Leiden: Brill. Charlesworth, J. H. (1995), The Beloved Disciple: Whose Witness Validates the Gospel of John? Valley Forge: Trinity Press International. Cranfield, C. E. B. (1977), The Epistle to the Romans, Vol. 1: Introduction and Commentary on Romans 1–8, International Critical Commentary, 2d ed., Edinburgh: T&T Clark. Eco, U. (1992), Die Grenzen der Interpretation, trans. G. Memmert, Munich: Hanser. Translation of I limiti dell’interpretazione, Studi Bompiani, Milan: Bompiani, 1990. Eschner, C. (2010), Gestorben und hingeben “für” die Sünder: Die griechische Konzeption des Unheil abwenden-den Sterbens und deren paulinische Aufnahme für die Deutung des Todes Jesu Christi, 1 vol., Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament 122, Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener. Gelardini, G. (2016), “Charting ‘Outside the Camp’ with Edward W. Soja: Critical Spatiality and Hebrews 13,” in G. Gelardini and H. W. Attridge (eds.), Hebrews in Contexts, 210–37, Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity 91, Leiden: Brill. Gräßer, E. (1990–1997), An die Hebräer, 3 vols, Evangelisch-katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 17, Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. Hagen, K. (1981), Hebrews Commenting from Erasmus to Bèze 1516–1598, Beiträge zur Geschichte der biblischen Exegese 23, Tübingen: Mohr. Iser, W. (1978), The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response, Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press. Jewett, R. (2007), Romans: A Commentary, Hermeneia, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Josephus, Flavius (1987), Works: Complete and Unabridged, trans. W. Whiston, revised ed. Peabody : Hendrickson. OakTree edition, version 1.8. Kampling, R. (2005), “Sich dem Rätsel nähern: Fragen zu den Einleitungsfragen des Hebräerbriefes,” in R. Kampling (ed.), Ausharren in der Verheißung: Studien zum Hebräerbrief, 11–34, Stuttgarter Bibelstudien 204, Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk. Karrer, M. (2002), Der Brief an die Hebräer: Kapitel 1,1–5,10, Ökumenischer TaschenbuchKommentar 20/1, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus. Karrer, M. (2008), “Der Hebräerbrief,” in M. Ebner and S. Schreiber (eds.), Einleitung in das Neue Testament, 474–95, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Koester, C. R. (2001), Hebrews: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Bible 36, New York: Doubleday. Moffitt, D. M. (2011), Atonement and the Logic of Resurrection in the Epistle to the Hebrews, Novum Testamentum Supplements 141, Leiden: Brill. Moffitt, D. M. (2016), “Serving in the Tabernacle in Heaven: Sacred Space, Jesus’s HighPriestly Sacrifice, and Hebrews’ Analogical Theology,” in G. Gelardini and H. W. Attridge (eds.), Hebrews in Contexts, 259–82, Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity 91, Leiden: Brill. Morris, L. (1955/56), “The Meaning of ἱλαστήριον in Romans 3:25,” New Testament Studies 2: 33–43. Overbeck, F. (1994), “Zur Geschichte des Kanons: Zwei Abhandlungen,” in E. W. Stegemann and R. Brändle in collaboration with M. Stauffacher (eds.), Schriften bis 1880, 391–461, vol. 2 of Werke und Nachlass, editorial [or: edition] commission under the presidency of E. W. Stegemann (ed.), Stuttgart: Metzler. Porter, S. E. (1999), Idioms of the Greek New Testament, Biblical Languages: Greek 2, 2d ed., Sheffield: JSOT, 1994; repr., Sheffield Academic Press.

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Rothschild, C. K. (2009a), Hebrews as Pseudepigraphon: The History and Significance of the Pauline Attribution of Hebrews, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 235, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Rothschild, C. K. (2009b), “Hebrews as a Guide to Reading Romans,” in Pseudepigraphie und Verfasserfiktion in frühchristlichen Briefen, J. Frey, J. Herzer, M. Janssen and C. K. Rothschild (eds.), 537–73, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 246, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Schreiber, S. (2006), “Das Weihegeschenk Gottes: Eine Deutung des Todes Jesu in Röm 3,25,” Zeitschrift für die neuetestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche 97: 88–110. Seeley, D. (1990), The Noble Death: Graeco-Roman Martyrology and Paul’s Concept of Salvation, Journal for the Study of the New Testament: Supplement Series 28, Sheffield: JSOT Press. Stökl Ben Ezra, D. (2003), The Impact of Yom Kippur on Early Christianity: The Day of Atonement from Second Temple Judaism to the Fifth Century, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 163, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Whiston, W. (1987), The Works of Flavius Josephus: Complete and Unabridged. Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers. Whitlark, J. A. (2016), “The God of Peace and His Victorious King: Hebrews 13:20–21 in Its Roman Imperial Context,” in G. Gelardini and H. W. Attridge (eds.), Hebrews in Contexts, 155–80, Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity 91, Leiden: Brill. Wolter, M. (1988), “Die anonymen Schriften des Neuen Testaments: Annäherungsversuch an ein literarisches Phänomen,” Zeitschrift für die neuetestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche 79: 1–16. Wolter, M. (2014), Der Brief an die Römer: Röm 1–8, Evangelisch-katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament VI/1, Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. Zahn, T. (1910), Der Brief des Paulus an die Römer, 1st and 2d ed., Leipzig: Deichert.

Chapter 20 THE SCRIPTURALIZATION OF LETTERS FROM “OUR BELOVED BROTHER” PAUL IN 2 PETER David J. Downs

The reception of Paul in 2 Pet. 3:15-16 represents one of the earliest and most important remembrances of the apostle in nascent Christian literature, and this text has figured prominently in discussions of the nature and development of Christian scripture. In the fourth-century anti-Marconite Dialogue on the True Faith in God, for example, an orthodox speaker, Adamantius, engages his Marcionite opponent, Marcus, in a debate that includes an argument about the Marcionite acceptance of only “the Gospel and the Apostle” as scriptural sources (Dial. 828c–d; cf. 806b–808e).1 Their disagreement about scriptural texts quickly turns to the question of how it is possible that Paul is recognized by Marcionites as “the Apostle,” since, as Adamantius observes, Paul’s name is not written in “the Gospel” that Marcus accepts.2 Adamantius also contends that Paul’s own testimony to his apostolic status cannot authenticate Paul’s claim, given Paul’s observation in 2 Cor. 10:18 that it is not those who commend themselves who are approved. Instead, Adamantius asserts, Paul is known to be an apostle on the basis of “the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles.” Citing both Acts 9:15 and 2 Pet. 3:15, Adamantius declares, “There you will find him borne witness to: first, as ‘a chosen instrument’ (Acts 9:15) acknowledged by Christ; then by the Apostle Peter when he wrote ‘according to the wisdom given to my brother Paul’ (2 Pet. 3:15)” (Dial. 828d). This exchange between Adamantius and Marcus in the Dialogue represents one example of the reception of 2 Peter in the fourth century. In the debate between these two fictive opponents, 2 Peter is useful to Adamantius primarily because the letter forges a positive link between two apostolic figures, Peter and Paul. This connection

1. Translations of this text are from Pretty (1997); on the date of the document, see Tsutsui (2004: 105–08). 2. On the question of the sources for “the gospel” in the Dialogue, see Roth (2015: 347– 95) and Lieu (2015: 115–25).

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both establishes Paul’s apostolic credentials on the basis of Peter’s witness and supports the legitimacy of the Catholic Epistles, including 2 Peter, as scriptural texts.3 In a similar way, the earlier reception of Paul in 2 Peter upon which Adamantius draws both supports the apostolic legitimacy of the letter’s author by associating “Peter” with his “brother” Paul and champions letters from Paul as scripture. Paul’s name and a collection of Paul’s letters are invoked by the author of 2 Peter in a context of eschatological warning. While readers await the day of the Lord’s fiery judgment and the coming of a new heavens and a new earth (3:10-13), they should endeavor to be found by God in peace, without spot or blemish, regarding the patience of the Lord as salvation. The author of 2 Peter asserts that this same message was written to his readers by “our beloved brother Paul”: 14

Therefore, beloved, while you await these things be eager to be found by him in peace, spotless and unblemished,15 and consider the patience of our Lord as salvation, just as also our beloved brother Paul wrote to you according to the wisdom given to him,16 speaking about these things as he does in all the letters. There are some things in the letters that are difficult to understand, which the ignorant and unstable twist to their own destruction, as they also do with the other scriptures. (2 Pet. 3:15-16)

In light of this volume’s focus on how Paul’s first interpreters handled and perceived his relationship to Judaism, this chapter will explore two particular aspects of the reception of Paul in 2 Peter. First, in declaring Paul’s letters to be “scripture” (3:16: γραφή) the author of 2 Peter participates in the practice, common among Jewish authors in antiquity, of “scripturalizing” Pauline epistles by asserting their religious authority. Second, it is not insignificant that Paul is called “our beloved brother” (ὁ ἀγαπητὸς ἡμῶν ἀδελφὸς) in a letter that purports to come from the hand of Simeon Peter (1:1). Although the designation of Paul as a “beloved brother” is often read in light of the frequency with which early Christian writings are assumed to have employed the rhetoric of “fictive kinship” in framing group identity, recent perspectives on identity construction in the ancient world suggest that early Christian assertions of siblingship should not automatically be labeled “fictive.” Instead, the reference to “our beloved brother Paul” in 2 Pet. 3:15, especially when read in concert with the ethnic construction of Christian identity in 1 Peter, represents Paul as a member of the brotherhood (ἀδελφότης) of Christians.

The Scripturalization of Paul’s Letters in 2 Pet. 3:15-16 The concept of “scripturalizing” has been used in a variety of ways in recent scholarship. An important early use of the term “scripturalization,” for example,

3. 2 Pet. 2:19 is also cited in a discussion of mammon and wealth in Dial. 821a–b.

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is found in Judith Newman’s study of prayer in the literature of Second Temple Judaism. Newman defines “scripturalization” as “the reuse of biblical texts or interpretive traditions to shape the composition of new literature.”4 Newman’s definition is slightly confusing, however, because it centers on scribal reuse of biblical and other interpretive traditions and because Newman assumes that earlier texts employed in the composition of new literature are already assumed to be “biblical” or “scriptural.”5 The author of 2 Peter does not “reuse” material from Paul’s letters in the sense that Newman intends, which is the “observable recontextualization of identifiable scriptural language” (Newman 1999: 13). Instead, 2 Pet. 3:15-16 mentions letters from Paul but does not cite or draw identifiable language from them.6 It might be argued that Newman’s definition of “scripturalization” is more appropriately applied to the author of 2 Peter’s use of materials from the Epistle of Jude and other Jewish literature.7 Yet while the author of 2 Peter almost certainly recycles language from Jude, there is no indication that Jude is employed in 2 Peter as a scriptural source, a point that highlights a weakness of Newman’s definition. A better category for 2 Peter’s use of material from Jude is that of imitatio, namely, “the literary practice of borrowing thoughts and language from another” (Green 2010: 2). By contrast, the author of 2 Peter scripturalizes letters from Paul by grouping them together with “the other scriptures” (3:16), an alignment that “implies the sacred and authoritative quality” of certain Pauline epistles (Schniedewind 2015: 306). Paul’s letters are declared to be “scripture” in 2 Pet. 3:16 not because of their antiquity (cf. 2 Macc. 2:1-15), but because of their divinely inspired character (cf. Ep. Arist. 30–32, 312–13; 2 Tim. 3:16).8 Paul is said to have written “according to the wisdom given to him” (κατὰ τὴν δοθεῖσαν αὐτῷ σοφίαν, 3:15), a view of the composition of Paul’s epistles that grounds their authority in the agency of

4. Newman (1999: 12–13). Newman herself notes that the term “scripturalization” was used earlier but in different ways by James L. Kugel and Gary Anderson. 5. Newman often uses “biblical” and “scriptural” synonymously. For a critique of Newman’s use of the term “scripturalization,” see Noll (2011: 204). Schniedewind agrees with Noll that “the reuse of texts is not the defining characteristic of scripturalization” (2015: 306). 6. There are possible allusions to the Pauline epistles in 2 Peter (e.g., 2 Pet. 2:19// Rom.  6:16; 2 Pet. 3:15//Rom. 12:3 and 15:15; 2 Pet. 3:10//1 Thess. 5:2), but a literary relationship is far from certain; cf. Bauckham (1983: 147–48); Gilmour (2002: 100–05). 7. This assumes that there is a literary relationship between 2 Peter and Jude—as opposed to the proposal that common language shared between the letters should be explained on the basis of independent use of a common source—and that the author of 2 Peter draws upon Jude, rather than vice versa; for discussions, see Green (2010: 7–12); Hultin (2014); on 2 Peter’s relationship with the Old Testament and other Jewish literature, see Mason (2014); cf. Bauckham (1983: 140–43); and Hafemann (2014). 8. For a discussion of different ways in which scriptural authority is claimed for early Jewish texts, see Borchardt (2015).

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God. In light of the fact that Paul’s letters are called γραφή in 2 Pet. 3:16, it is perhaps also likely that the “prophetic message” (τὸν προφητικὸν λόγον) and the “prophecy of scripture” (προφητεία γραφῆς) in 2 Pet. 1:19-21 would include letters by Paul, which would then also root their scriptural status in their authorization by God’s Holy Spirit (1:21). Additionally, the claimed apostolic author of 2 Peter supports the scripturalization of certain Pauline epistles in 2 Pet. 3:16 because the message of Paul’s letters conforms to the eschatological perspective articulated by the apostle Peter. Yet the author of 2 Peter also indicates that these texts already engendered hermeneutical contests, as is seen in his assertion that letters from Paul are “twisted” by ignorant and unstable readers.9 The mere fact that certain Pauline letters are scripturalized in 2 Peter does not indicate anything of great significance for the early reception of Paul the Jew, however. Scripturalization in the first and second centuries of the Common Era was, of course, predominantly a Jewish practice.10 Inscribing texts with divine authority was not a regular feature of pagan religion. As Robin Lane Fox observes, “Among pagans, textual communities were very rare and marginal to the main patterns of worship. . . . The practical and symbolic importance of [written records for pagan religious groups] was sometimes great, but their role was quite different from the role of ‘sacred literacy’ in Christian and Jewish communities.”11 Yet, as Fox suggests, in the first and second centuries Christians as well as Jews gathered to read, hear, and interpret divinely authorized scriptural texts. The fact that letters from Paul are called γραφή in 2 Pet. 3:16, therefore, does not by itself indicate that Paul is remembered as either a Jew or as a Christian (or both), nor does this practice of scripturalization allow 2 Peter to be plotted along any coherent narrative regarding a “parting of the ways” between Christianity and Judaism.12 Yet if the author of 2 Peter declares that writings from a Christian Paul are on par

9. Watts has suggested that the scripturalization of texts involves their ritualization in three dimensions: semantic (i.e., “the meaning of what is written”), performative (i.e., the performance of the words and contents of scriptures), and iconic (i.e., “the physical form, ritual manipulation, and artistic representation of scriptures”); see (2013). Unfortunately, there is no evidence to speak of anything other than the ritualization of the semantic dimension of Paul’s scriptural letters in 2 Pet. 3:15-16. It is possible that Paul’s letters were ritualized in the act of public reading in Christian worship gatherings (so Bauckham 1983: 335), but there is no direct evidence for that practice in 2 Peter. 10. On the emergence of scripture in Second Temple Judaism, see Stone (1985); Vanderkam (2000). 11. Fox (1994: 126). Beard has suggested that the textualization of divine revelation is attested in the writing of oracles in the second and third centuries of the Common Era; see (1991). The earliest evidence for so-called Himmelsbriefe is Paus. 10.38.13 (second century CE). 12. As opposed to, say, the use and concept of “scripture” in a figure like Ignatius of Antioch, see Vall (2013: 27–51).

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with “the other (Jewish) scriptures,” this may be a significant aspect of the early reception of the apostle.13

Paul as a Member of the ἀδελφότης τῶν Χριστιανῶν in 1–2 Peter The letter called 2 Peter purports to be written by “Simeon Peter, a servant and apostle of Jesus Christ” (1:1). Toward the end of the letter, this Simeon Peter identifies Paul as “our beloved brother” (3:15: ὁ ἀγαπητὸς ἡμῶν ἀδελφὸς), and this designation of kinship raises several questions about the reception of Paul in the context of early Christian identity construction. Peter’s naming of Paul as “our beloved brother” has often been read in light of the frequency with which early Christian writings are assumed to have employed the rhetoric of “fictive kinship” in framing group identity. By “fictive kinship” scholars have regularly understood familial language in early Christian literature to be metaphorical, and therefore not representative of “real” ancestral or ethnic relationships.14 Thus, the identification of Paul as a “beloved brother” in 2 Pet. 3:15 is viewed as an example of “the normal term for a fellow worker in the fictive family of the Jesus movement”15 or as an indication that Paul is a “‘brother’ in the faith” (Green 2008: 338). According to this view, Paul’s siblingship in 2 Pet. 3:15-16 has nothing to do with early Christian or early Jewish “ethnic reasoning.”16 More recent scholarship on identity construction in early Christianity, however, has challenged the “contrast between ‘real’ ethnicities and the self-evidently ‘fictive’ kind of quasi-ethnic language used in early Christian discourse” (Horrell 2012: 136). Drawing on contemporary sociological perspectives that increasingly tend to “refer to both race and ethnicity as concepts that are socially constructed, that is, wholly dependent on prevailing social dynamics for meaning and significance,” scholars of early Christianity have examined ways in which ethnicity, race, and Christian identity were constructed in the ancient world (Sechrest 2009: 3). This line of thinking represents a challenge to modes of interpretation that have

13. The “other scriptures” certainly include Old Testament writings and may have included apocryphal texts (cf. Jas 4.5; Jude 14; Barn. 16.5; 1 Clem. 23.3). Bauckham suggests that the “other scriptures” could also refer to written gospels (1983: 333). 14. For example, Burke (2003); Aasgaard (2004). I am not denying that familial language in early Christian literature can be metaphorical, as it is, for example, when Paul images himself to readers in Thessalonica as a nursing mother (1 Thess. 2:7). The point is that the term “fictive” is not necessarily helpful when applied to all kinship language in early Christian literature. 15. Davids (2006: 298). Davids comments in a footnote: “The Jesus movement, following Jesus (Mark 3:31-35), saw itself as a fictive family (fictive in the sense that it was not a blood family) that took precedence over the blood family” (298, n. 9). 16. The term “ethnic reasoning” is taken from Buell (2005).

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tended to view Christianity as a “‘universal’ religion, one that transcends ethnic and familial particularities,” especially in contrast to Judaism, which has been characterized as the ethnic, particular, exclusive foil to the universal religion of Christianity (Hodge 2007: 3). A number of fruitful studies have explored the topic of “ethnic reasoning” in Pauline literature, in Luke-Acts, in 1 Peter, and in a variety of second-century texts.17 As far as I am aware, however, the question of “ethnic reasoning” in 2 Peter has not been addressed, and perhaps for good reason, since the author of 2 Peter does not employ the traditional terms that have often captured the attention of those interested in such explorations (e.g., γένος, ἔθνος, Ἰουδαῖος, Ἕλλην, Χριστιανός). The rhetoric of kinship in 2 Peter, however, merits investigation in light of recent research on ethnic constructions of identity in early Christianity. We shall look first at kinship and group identity in 2 Peter itself, including the language of siblingship as it is applied to Paul in 2 Pet. 3:15. Yet this study will also briefly consider modes of ethnic reasoning in 1 Peter, for in 2 Pet. 3:1 the author of 2 Peter reminds his “beloved” readers that this is the second letter that he is writing to them, the first almost certainly being 1 Peter (see Hultin 2014: 40–44). It is in the relationship between 1 and 2 Peter that the reference to “our beloved brother Paul” in 2 Pet. 3:15 can be understood, neither as a designation of Paul’s Jewish identity nor as a generic, de-ethnicized descriptor of a fellow follower of Jesus. Instead, 1 Peter and 2 Peter together bear witness to an attempt to formulate a distinctively “Christian” ethno-racial identity, and Paul features as a key member of this new “Christian” family, for he is an author of some of its scriptural texts. Focusing first on 2 Peter on its own terms, how does the reference to Paul as a beloved ἀδελφός function within the literary context of the epistle? Certainly the stated author of 2 Peter is Jewish, for Simeon Peter in this letter is intended to be identified with the Simon/Simeon Peter known throughout early Christian traditions as one of Jesus’s first followers (e.g., Mk 1:16-18//Mt. 4:18-20). In addition to the clear designation of the letter’s author in the prescript, the author claims to be an apostle and follower of Jesus the Messiah (1:1, 8, 11, 14, 16; 2:20; 3:18), purports to have been an eyewitness to Jesus’s transfiguration (1:16-19; cf. Mk 9:2-8//Mt. 17:1-8//Lk. 9:28-36), and draws upon material from Jewish scriptures and other Jewish literature.18 Based on 2 Peter alone, it is difficult to know anything specific regarding the actual or even the implied ethnicity of either the recipients of the letter or the

17. Seminal studies remain Hall (1997) and Lieu (2004). On Paul, see Sechrest (2009); Johnson Hodge (2007); Hansen (2010); Concannon (2014). On Acts, see Barreto (2010). On 1 Peter, see Horrell (2012); Girsch (2015). On second-century Christian literature, see Byron (2002) and Buell (2005). 18. On the relationship of 2 Peter to the Old Testament and other Jewish literature, see Bauckham (1983: 138–40); Mason (2014: 190–97).

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opponents addressed by the author.19 That the letter is addressed to “those who have received a faith which is of equal privilege with ours” (τοῖς ἰσότιμον ἡμῖν λαχοῦσιν πίστιν) might be taken as an indication that the readers are non-Jews who have received the same genuine faith as Peter and other Jews (Mayor 1907: 80). It is more likely, however, that the comparison in 2 Pet. 1:1 is between Peter and other apostles, on one hand, and readers of the letter, on the other. This apostolic/nonapostolic division makes more sense in light of the distinction between apostolic testimony (using the first-person plural) and recipients of that testimony (using the second-person plural) in 1:16-21.20 The only other possible clue about the ethnicity of the implied or actual readers of 2 Peter is found in 2 Pet: 2:1: “But there were also false prophets among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you.” The false prophets in 2:1 stand in contrast to the fully confirmed prophetic message spoken by prophets empowered by God’s Holy Spirit in 1:19-21. Assuming that the author of 2 Peter has Old Testament prophets in mind in the discussion of prophecy in 1:19-21, the reference to “false prophets among the people” (ὁ λαός) in 2:1 is to the presence of false prophets among the people of Israel.21 The author of 2 Peter, therefore, displays some knowledge of “the people” of Israel as a collective entity (cf. Jude 1:5). It is at least suggestive that the author of 2 Peter does not refer to this group in a way that equates his readers with it. The difference between ἐν τῷ λαῷ and ἐν ὑμῖν in 2 Pet. 2:1, therefore, might be taken to indicate that those who read the letter are distinguished from the people of Israel. Such a distinction, however,

19. Davids suggests that the recipients of 2 Peter were not “predominately Jewish (2 Peter expects them to be very familiar with Greco-Roman ideas, but it does not expect them to know a lot of Jewish literature)” (2006:133). This statement, however, unhelpfully rests on an older paradigm that would neatly separate “Jewish” from “Greco-Roman” ideas. Moreover, Davids minimizes the extent to which implied readers of 2 Peter are assumed to be familiar with Old Testament and other Jewish traditions. At the same time, an author’s use of Jewish traditions should not be taken as an indication that the first readers would have identified allusions to earlier texts, and neither the use nor the nonuse of scriptural or other Jewish traditions really says anything about the ethnicity of those readers; cf. Stanley (2008: 125–55). 20. The shift between first-person and second-person discourse in 1:3-4 is complicated, not least because the clause ἵνα διὰ τούτων γένησθε θείας κοινωνοὶ φύσεως ἀποφυγόντες τῆς ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ ἐν ἐπιθυμίᾳ φθορᾶς might be interpreted as a reference to the readers’ escape from the corruption of the lustful gentile world. Yet, as Jennifer Wright Knust observes, “Whereas Paul frequently cautions Christians ‘not to become like the gentiles,’ and numerous Christian authors contrast the profligate pre-Christian lives of believers with the virtuous lifestyle that now characterizes them, the author of 2 Peter does not adopt this particular rhetorical strategy. If anything, ‘Peter’ relies upon ‘pagan moral standards’ to shame the false teachers, worrying that ‘because of them the way of truth will be reviled’ (2:2)” (2006: 132). 21. For example, LXX Jer. 6:13; 33:7-16; 34:9; 35:1; 36:1, 8; Zech. 13:2.

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might be too subtle, especially since no such difference between readers and Israel is pressed elsewhere in the letter. It is clear, however, that the implied readers of 2 Peter are portrayed as siblings of one another and of Paul. In 2 Pet. 1:10, readers are directly addressed as ἀδελφοί who have been called and elected by Christ (cf. τοῦ καλέσαντος ἡμᾶς in 1:3). Among the list of virtues in 2 Pet. 1:5-7 that support faith (v. 5) and prevent ineffective and unfruitful lives (v. 7), readers are exhorted to practice sibling affection (φιλαδελφία, 1:7; cf. 1 Pet. 1:22; 3:8). While the virtue of φιλαδελφία was discussed and encouraged in Jewish and pagan moral discourse22 rarely was φιλαδελφία promoted outside the bonds of physical kinship.23 According to some early Christian apologists, in fact, pagan criticism of Christianity sometimes highlighted the absurdity of Christians treating all members of their voluntary fellowship as family (Minucius Felix, Oct. 31.8; Tertullian, Apol. 39; Lucian, Peregr. 13). Finally, when Paul is identified as “our beloved brother” in 2 Pet. 3:15, the first-person plural pronoun ἡμῶν is inclusive of readers of the letter, rather than including only “we apostles.” Not only does the designation of Paul as an ἀδελφός in 3:15 echo the address to readers as ἀδελφοί in 1:10, but the phrase “our beloved brother Paul” immediately follows an appeal to “regard the patience of our Lord as salvation” (3:14), indicating that the pronoun ἡμῶν in 3:15 does not distinguish Peter (perhaps also along with other apostles) and Paul as (Jewish) brothers but instead marks Paul as the brother of Peter and the readers (pace Bauckham 1983: 329–30). Thus, while not featured as prominently as in the undisputed Pauline letters, the language of siblingship in 2 Peter highlights and encourages bonds of solidarity.24 According to the articulation of group identity in 2 Peter, therefore, Simeon Peter, Paul, and the readers of the letter are siblings of one another. The author of 2  Peter does not unpack the nature of this familial identity in any detail,

22. Cf. 4 Macc. 13:19-27; Philo, Jos. 218; Josephus, Ant. 2.161; War 1.275, 485; Plutarch, Frat. amor. 478E–F; 479D; 482E–F; Hierocles, On Duties 4.27.202. 23. On the language of brotherly affection and images of siblingship in epigraphical sources, see Harland (2005). 24. Davids writes, “Naturally, when Peter later turns to those he considers false teachers, he has no temptation to speak of them as ‘kin’” (2006: 187). The issue is slightly complicated by the fact that in 2 Pet. 2:14 the opponents are called “accursed children” (κατάρας τέκνα). It is certainly possible that this expression reflects “a Semitic idiom that classed someone according to some specific characteristic” (Green 2008: 283). It may also be the case that the label κατάρας τέκνα in v. 14 evokes already the Balaam narrative mentioned explicitly in vv. 15–16, not least because the verb καταράομαι is used twelve times in Numbers 22–24 (see Fornberg 2008). Yet the fact that the opponents are called τέκνα does at least raise the possibility that, in spite of the invective leveled against them, the author considers them to be members of God’s family (cf. 2:14, where the opponents appear to enjoy table fellowship with readers of the letter). On differences in the use of kinship language between the undisputed and disputed Pauline letters, see Horrell (2001).

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however. In 2 Peter, these siblings are not called Χριστιανοί or Ιουδαῖοι, nor are they identified as a γένος or an ἔθνος; they are simply beloved ἀδελφοί, and even this familial designation is relatively underdeveloped in the literary context of the letter. The epistle of 2 Peter is concerned about the teaching of certain opponents who are compared to false prophets and labeled “false teachers” in 2:1. Yet author’s response to this situation is not to locate this conflict within the plotline of Israel’s history, aside from pointing out parallels between past examples of disobedience and the present opponents (2:1-16).25 There is no Ἰσραὴλ κατὰ σάρκα (1 Cor. 10:18) in the communal imaginary of 2 Peter. Neither does the author of 2 Peter clearly distinguish members of his group from the false teachers and their adherents by employing an “oppositional” mode of ethnic reasoning, one that uses ethnic language to differentiate insiders from outsiders.26 That might be the end of the story, save for the fact that 2 Pet. 3:1-2 refers to an earlier letter that the stated author has written to these ἀδελφοί. While a variety of candidates have been proposed for the identity of this first letter, a strong case can be made that the author of 2 Peter is referring to 1 Peter, and that is the position adopted here. This is not to imply that the author of 2 Peter actually wrote 1 Peter, nor is it to suggest that 1 Peter has decidedly influenced the content of 2 Peter. The more limited point is that the pseudonymous author of 2 Peter capitalizes on the known existence of 1 Peter in order “to claim that both letters were written to the same readers and with the same purpose” (Hultin 2014: 41). In a way similar to the pseudonymous author’s use of Paul—which displays an awareness of letters from Paul but does not clearly reflect their content—the author of 2 Peter supports the authority of his own textual composition by linking it, here through a claim to shared authorship, with an earlier, esteemed epistle. Thus, the letter of 2 Peter encourages readers to consider its claims in light of 1 Peter. Certainly this would be the case for any “canonical” reading of 2 Peter, for the naming and canonical placement of these two epistles leaves no doubt that the first letter is 1 Peter and that “both letters are required in order to receive a right ‘remembrance’ of Peter’s message” (Nienhuis and Wall 2013: 141). Yet even without considering the final canonical location of 2 Peter, the author of 2 Peter invites a reading his epistle together with 1 Peter.27

25. That is, the relationship of the false teachers to negative examples such as the false prophets (2:1), sinful angels (2:4), the entire ancient world apart from Noah (2:5), the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah (2:6), and Balaam is typological. For a sensitive discussion of typological figuration and mimesis, one that would map nicely onto the appeal to earlier figures in 2 Pet. 2:1-16, see Bates (2012: 109–82). 26. On oppositional ethnic reasoning, see Buell (2005: 138–65); cf. Aristides, Apol. 2; Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 6.5.41.6-7. 27. To be clear, I am not engaged in a canonical reading of 2 Peter. A canonical reading of 2 Peter is assisted by the statement regarding Peter’s former letter in 3:1-2 but does not require such information. Were it not for the explicit reference to an earlier letter from Peter in 2 Pet. 3:1, my reading would not be possible.

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Analyzing the ethnic reasoning of 2 Peter in light of 1 Peter sheds interesting light on the assertions of siblingship in 2 Peter. As David Horrell has contended, 1 Peter “makes a crucial contribution to the construction of an ethnic form of Christian identity” (2012: 123). Particularly significant is 1 Pet. 2:9-10: 9

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.10 Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. (NRSV)

In these verses, the author of 1 Peter frames the identity of God’s people with reference to three key terms from the discourse of ethnic identity: γένος, ἔθνος, and λαός. Horrell argues that in spite of a recent interpretive history that tends to view this language as “ecclesiological” or simply reflective of biblical imagery drawn from Exod. 15:5-6, these terms represent “a uniquely dense collection of ethnic identity language” (2012: 125). Not only is 1 Pet. 2:9 the one passage in the New Testament to combine these three important words, it is also one of the only texts to apply the term γένος (“race”) to followers of Jesus (cf. Acts 17:28-29). Horrell argues that 1 Pet. 2:9 represents one of the earliest Christian texts to define Christian identity in ethnic or racial terms, establishing the basis upon which later Christian claims to be a “third race” (tertium genus) would emerge in the second and third centuries of the Common Era. Importantly, among the rich variety of images in 1 Peter for this people one does not find the ἐκκλησία (a lexeme that never appears in 1–2 Peter) but an ἀδελφότης, or “brotherhood” (2:17; 5:9).28 Especially in the first half of the letter, the author of 1 Peter offers a series of images that develop a familial identity for participants in what is later called the “household of God” (4:17): (1) readers have received new birth and an inheritance as obedient children of God (1:3-4, 14, 23; cf. 2:1-3); (2) God is the father of this family formed by God’s mercy (1:2, 3, 17); and (3) the children of God are siblings of one another (2:17; 5:9, 12; cf. φιλαδελφία in 1:17; φιλάδελφοι in 3:8). As is the case with the language of siblingship in 2 Peter, the familial imagery for the Christian community in 1 Peter is often described as “fictive kinship.”29 But in light of the fluidity of ethnic reasoning in antiquity,

28. The letter of 1 Peter is, of course, addressed to παρεπίδημοί (“sojourners”), and readers are called “aliens and sojourners” (2:11), images thoughtfully explored in Dunning (2009). Χριστιανός is also an important designation (4:16). For a concise summary of ecclesiological images in 1 Peter, see Black (2012). Unfortunately, the English language lacks a suitable gender-neutral translation of ἀδελφότης. “Fellowship,” the first gloss for ἀδελφότης suggested by BDAG (19), misses the familial dimension of the term, whereas “familial affection,” the second gloss suggested by BDAG, misses the imagery of siblingship. The word “siblinghood” might be suitable, but it is not common in English parlance. 29. See Black (2012: 233); Martin (1993: 161–88).

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including the notion that members of a shared γένος are a people-group marked by common ancestry and familial connections, the siblingship of Christians in 1 Peter should not be understood as merely “fictive,” as if this construction stands in sharp contrast to “real” claims of biological lineage. Instead, the language of siblingship in 1 Peter is an important aspect of the ethnic construction of the identity of the “chosen race” of Christians throughout the epistle because a γένος could be formulated with religious belief and practice as key markers.30

Conclusion Let us return, in conclusion, to the reference to “our beloved brother Paul” in 2  Pet.  3:15. In light of this discussion of the ethnic construction of Christian identity in 1 Peter, and in view of the fact that the author of 2 Peter imagines that his epistle will be read in concert with 1 Peter, it is possible to suggest that the designation of Paul as a “beloved brother” functions neither as an affirmation of Paul’s Jewish identity nor merely as a generic, de-ethnicized descriptor for a fellow follower of Jesus. Instead, “brother Paul” is depicted in 1–2 Peter a member of the ἀδελφότης τῶν Χριστιανῶν. Such a reading is supported by attention to the dynamics of ethnic reasoning in early Christian literature and rooted in the invitation of 2 Pet. 3:1 that 2 Peter be read in concert with 1 Peter. It is not possible to suggest, however, that the reference to Paul as a “beloved brother” in 2 Pet. 3:15 played any demonstrable role in the emergence of ethnic constructions of Christian identity in the second century and beyond. Unlike 1 Pet. 2:9, which was employed by Clement of Alexandria in the formulation of an ethno-racial identity for Christians, 2 Pet. 3:15-16 is rarely cited for any reason, a symptom of the general neglect or lack of awareness of 2 Peter until the third and fourth centuries.31 In fact, as far as I am aware, the only citation of 2 Pet. 3.15 in patristic literature that considers the designation of Paul as a “beloved brother” in ethnic terms is one that reads ἀδελφός as an indication of Paul’s Jewish identity, an interpretation that runs counter to the argument advanced here. In Epiphanius of Salamis’s Panarion (374–77 CE) the bishop critiques the Ebionites for their alleged belief that Paul was the son of Greek parents and only later in life became a Jewish proselyte: “First, they say that he was Greek and was born from gentiles (πρῶτον μὲν γὰρ λέγουσιν αὐτὸν Ἕλληνά τε καὶ ἐξ ἐθνῶν ὑπάρχειν), but that later he became a proselyte” (Panarion Haer. 30.25.1; cf. 30.16.8). After citing several passages from Paul’s letters and Acts that attest to the apostle’s Jewish

30. On the importance of claims to kinship for ancient discourse about γένος, see Sechrest (2009: 84–87). 31. On the influence of 1 Pet. 2:9 on Clement’s discourse about the church as a γένος (mediated by Clement’s knowledge and citation of the Kerygma Petrou), see Horrell (2012: 130–33).

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heritage (Phil. 3:5; Gal. 1:14; 2 Cor. 11:22; Acts 22:3), Epiphanius asks, “Whose word shall I take? Ebion’s and his kind, or St. Peter’s, who says, ‘As my brother, Paul, hath written unto you, which things are deep and hard to be understood, which they who are unlearned and unstable pervert by their own ignorance’” (Panarion haer. 30.25.4).32 This leads Epiphanius to the conclusion that “even though Saint Paul came from Tarsus, he was not a stranger to Israel” (Panarion haer. 30.25.6). For Epiphanius, therefore, 2 Pet. 3:15 testifies to Paul’s identity as a Jew. Epiphanius’s appeal to this verse is certainly understandable in the context of his critique of the Ebionites’s denial of Paul’s “real” Jewish heritage, and his interpretation is assisted by the fact that his citation of 2 Pet. 3:15 has Peter declare ὁ ἀδελφὸς μου Παῦλος, a variant that makes Paul the brother of Peter but not the brother of the readers of the epistle.33 If the question shifts, however, from Paul’s ethnic identity at birth, which is how Epiphanius has framed the debate with his characterization of the Ebionite view, to Paul’s ethnic identity in Christ, 2 Peter, when read together with the ethnic construction of Christian identity in 1 Peter, appears to suggest that Paul is not Peter’s Jewish ἀδελφός but a member of the ἀδελφότης τῶν Χριστιανῶν.

References Aasgaard, R. (2004), My Beloved Brothers and Sisters: Christian Siblingship in Paul, Early Christianity in Context, London: T&T Clark. Barreto, E. D. (2010), Ethnic Negotiations: The Function of Race and Ethnicity in Acts 16, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2/294, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Bates, M. W. (2012), The Hermeneutics of the Apostolic Proclamation: The Center of Paul’s Method of Scriptural Interpretation, Waco: Baylor University Press. Bauckham, R. J. (1983), Jude, 2 Peter, Word Biblical Commentary 50, Waco: Word. Beard, M. (1991), “Writing and Religion: Ancient Literacy and the Function of the Written Word in Roman Religion,” in J. H. Humphrey (ed.), Literacy in the Roman World, 35–58, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Black, A. (2012), “Called to Be Holy: Ecclesiology in the Petrine Epistles,” in J. Harrison and J. D. Dvorack (eds.), The New Testament Church: The Challenge of Developing Ecclesiologies, 226–42, McMaster Divinity College Biblical Studies Series 1, Eugene: Pickwick. Borchardt, F. (2015), “Influence and Power: The Types of Authority in the Process of Scripturalization,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 29: 182–96. Buell, D. K. (2005), Why This New Race: Ethnic Reasoning in Early Christianity, New York: Columbia University Press.

32. This translation is from Williams (2009). 33. See the text provided by Holl (1915). The same construction, ὁ ἀδελφὸς μου, is also found in Dial. 828d, cited above.

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Burke, T. (2003), Family Matters: A Socio-historical Study of Kinship Metaphors in 1 Thessalonians, Library of New Testament Studies 247, London: T&T Clark. Byron, G. (2002), Symbolic Blackness and Ethnic Difference in Early Christian Literature, London: Routledge. Concannon, C. W. (2014), “When You Were Gentiles”: Specters of Ethnicity in Roman Corinth and Paul’s Corinthian Correspondence, Synkrisis, New Haven: Yale University Press. Davids, P. H. (2006), The Letters of 2 Peter and Jude, Pelican New Testament Commentaries, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Dunning, B. (2009), Aliens and Sojourners: Self as Other in Early Christianity, Divinations, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Fornberg, T. (2008), “Balaam and 2 Peter 2:15: ‘They Have Followed in the Steps of Balaam’ (Jude 11),” in G. H. van Kooten and J. van Ruiten (eds.), The Prestige of the Pagan Prophet Balaam in Judaism, Early Christianity, and Islam, 265–74, Themes in Biblical Narrative 11, Leiden: Brill. Fox, R. L. (1994), “Literacy and Power in Early Christianity,” in A. K. Bowman and G. Woolf (eds.), Literacy and Power in the Ancient World, 126–48, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gilmour, M. J. (2002), The Significance of Parallels between 2 Peter and Other Early Christian Literature, Academia Biblica 10, Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Girsch, K. A. (2015), “Begotten Anew: Divine Regeneration and Identity Construction in 1 Peter,” PhD diss., Durham University. Green, G. L. (2008), Jude and 2 Peter, Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament, Grand Rapids: Baker. Green, G. L. (2010), “Second Peter’s Use of Jude: Imitatio and the Sociology of Early Christianity,” in R. L. Webb and D. F. Watson (eds.), Reading Second Peter with New Eyes: Methodological Reassessments of the Letter of Second Peter, 1–25, Library of New Testament Studies 382, London: T&T Clark. Hafemann, S. (2014), “‘Noah, the Preacher of (God’s) Righteousness’: The Argument from Scripture in 2 Peter 2:5 and 9,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 76: 306–20. Hall, J. (1997), Ethnic Identity in Greek Antiquity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hansen, B. (2010), All of You Are One: The Social Vision of Galatians 3.28, 1 Corinthians 12.13, and Colossians 3.11, Library of New Testament Studies 409, London: T&T Clark. Harland, P. A. (2005), “Familial Dimensions of Group Identity: ‘Brothers’ (ΑΔΕΛΦΟΙ) in Associations of the Greek East,” Journal of Biblical Literature 124: 491–513. Hodge, C. J. (2007), If Sons, Then Heirs: A Study of Kinship and Ethnicity in the Letters of Paul, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Holl, K. (1915), Epiphanius. Ancoratus und Panarion Haer. 1–33., Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs’sche. Horrell, D. G. (2001), “From ἀδελφοί to οἶκος θεοῦ: Social Transformation in Pauline Christianity,” Journal of Biblical Literature 120: 293–311. Horrell, D. G. (2012), “‘Race,’ ‘Nation,’ ‘People’: Ethnic Identity-Construction in 1 Peter 2.9,” New Testament Studies 58: 123–43. Hultin, J. F. (2014), “ The Literary Relationships among 1 Peter, 2 Peter, and Jude,” in E. F. Mason and T. W. Martin (eds.), Reading 1–2 Peter and Jude: A Resource for Students, 27–45, Resources for Biblical Study 77, Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Knust, J. W. (2006), Abandoned to Lust: Sexual Slander and Early Christianity, New York: Columbia University Press.

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Lieu, J. M. (2004), Christian Identity in the Jewish and Greco-Roman World, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lieu, J. M. (2015), Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Martin, T. W. (1993), Metaphor and Composition in 1 Peter, Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 131, Atlanta: Scholars. Mason, E. F. (2014), “Biblical and Nonbiblical Traditions in Jude and 2 Peter: Sources, Usage, and the Question of Canon,” in E. F. Mason and T. W. Martin (eds.), Reading 1–2 Peter and Jude: A Resource for Students, 181–200, Resources for Biblical Study 77, Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Mayor, J. B. (1907), The Epistle of St. Jude and the Second Epistle of Peter, London: Macmillan. Newman, J. H. (1999), Praying by the Book: The Scripturalization of Prayer in Second Temple Judaism, Early Jewish Literature 14, Atlanta: Scholars. Nienhuis, D. R. and R. W. Wall (2013), Reading the Epistles of James, Peter, John & Jude as Scripture: The Shaping & Shape of a Canonical Collection, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Noll, K. L. (2011), “Did ‘Scripturalization’ Take Place in Second Temple Judaism?,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 25: 201–16. Pretty, R. A., ed. (1997), Adamantius: Dialogue on the True Faith in God. De Recta in Deum Fide, Gnostica 1, Leuven: Peeters. Roth, D. T. (2015), The Text of Marcion’s Gospel, New Testament Tools, Studies and Documents 49, Leiden: Brill. Schniedewind, W. M. (2015), “Scripturalization in Ancient Judah,” in B. B. Schmidt (ed.), Contextualizing Israel’s Sacred Writings: Ancient Literacy, Orality, and Literary Production, 305–21, Ancient Israel and Its Literature 22, Atlanta: SBL. Sechrest, L. L. (2009), A Former Jew: Paul and the Dialectics of Race, Library of New Testament Studies 410, London: T&T Clark. Stanley, C. D. (2008), “Paul’s ‘Use’ of Scripture: Why the Audience Matters,” in S. E. Porter and C. D. Stanley (eds.), As It Is Written: Studying Paul’s Use of Scripture, 125–55, Symposium Series 50, Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Stone, M. E. (1985), “Three Transformations in Ancient Judaism: Scripture, History, and Redemption,” Numen 32: 218–35. Tsutsui, K. (2004), Die Auseinandersetzung mit den Markioniten im Adamantios-Dialog: Ein Kommentar zu den Büchen I–II, Patristische Texte und Studien 55, Berlin: de Gruyter. Vall, G. (2013), Learning Christ: Ignatius of Antioch & the Mystery of Redemption, Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press. Vanderkam, J. C. (2000), “Revealed Literature in the Second Temple Period,” in From Revelation to Canon: Studies in the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Literature, Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 62, 1–30, Leiden: Brill,. Watts, J. (2013), “The Three Dimensions of Scriptures,” in J. W. Watts (ed.), Iconic Books and Texts, 9–32, London: Equinox. Williams, F., ed. (2009), The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis. Book 1 (Sects 1–46), 2nd ed., Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies 63, Leiden: Brill.

Chapter 21 PAUL, THE GREEK OLD TESTAMENT, AND THE PROMOTION OF THE FLAVIAN ORDER IN 1 CLEMENT Harry O. Maier

Introduction The aim of what follows is to show that one accounts best for the appropriation of Paul’s legacy in 1 Clement by attending to the letter’s political rhetoric. When we keep that in view, we are able to see most clearly how Clement has united Jewish and Pauline tradition for his own ends. Whereas literature contemporary with 1 Clement develops Paul through pseudonymity (arguably, Colossians, Ephesians, 1 and 2 Timothy, Titus, 2 Thessalonians), 1 Clement is the first writing to use extensive Pauline quotation to apply the apostle’s ideas for a later historical situation.1 Both Paul and Clement were heirs to a rhetorical tradition that celebrated civic concord (ὁμόνοια) as one of society’s most cherished ideals. Clement cites it directly (47.1) and draws the most explicit of his citations of Paul from 1 Corinthians, a letter steeped in rhetoric dedicated to the ideals of ὁμόνοια (Mitchell 1993: 65–183; Lotz 2007: 125–43). I hope to show that we best understand this deployment by placing it against the backdrop of Flavian political ideology promoted by Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian promoted after their victory in the civil war of 69 CE by portraying themselves as the restorers of a civic harmony that mirrored cosmic peace and concord.

The Traditional Account: The Ecclesiastical Paul The kind of treatment undertaken here belongs to a sea change in Clement scholarship. The traditional account (see Fuellenbach 1980; Maier 2012: 87–96 for summary) has been aptly represented by de Boer as “the ecclesiastical image of Paul” (1990: 51). Sohm (1909; 1892) and Harnack (1910; 1929) set the course 1. Barnett (1941: 88–104); Dassmann (1979: 83); Pervo (2010: 127–33); Lindemann (1990: 36–57, 1999: 258–67, 2005: 9–22).

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for this image more than a century ago. Sohm argued that 1 Clement, under the influence of Judaism, created “early Catholicism” (Frühkatholizismus) by introducing a legalistic principle of succession that replaced Paul’s rule by Spirit, which he found in 1 Cor. 12–14. Harnack (1910) opposed Sohm by arguing that 1 Clement is not evidence of a theological revolution but the gradual disappearance of the democracy of the Spirit, as institutional hierarchies found in Judaism and analogous Greco-Roman associations furnished Christianity with the structures it needed to perpetuate itself. Thirty years later, Campenhausen (1969: 82–95) largely rehearsed Harnack’s arguments and more recently Lona (1998: 61–68), developing the earlier arguments of Wrede (1891), detects the influence of Alexandrian Hellenistic Judaism in promoting institutionalization among Christ believers in Rome. Caragounis reprises Sohm: “1 Clement represents the Roman repudiation of Pauline Christianity and its definite embracing of a more static, sacerdotal type of Christianity, patterned on the OT and Judaism” (1998: 279).

The New Perspective An alternative reading of the kind this chapter advances also has its roots in earlier scholarship. Harnack (1929: 97–100) read the letter as friendly to the established political order and argued that its target audience was an upwardly mobile group of Roman Christians. Lösch (1937: 177–88), advancing Harnack, argued 1 Clement possessed a “chancery style” its author had learned when still a “pagan” in the court of the Emperor Claudius. Mikat’s (1969) was the first study to focus on Clement’s extensive use of language associated with the political theme of faction. van Unnik (1970) and Bowe (1988) developed this to show that 1 Clement is structured around consideration of the twin themes of concord and faction. More recently, Lindemann (1992), Bakke (2001), and Breytenbach (2003) have applied a similar analysis with analogous results. The following discussion advances this line of investigation by detecting Pauline influence on Clement’s political language, the role of his quotations from the Septuagint in its development, and the importance of the Flavian Roman situation in helping to shape it.

Homonoia and Stasis 1 Clement comes closest to describing its purpose when it refers to some having “removed certain people, their good conduct notwithstanding, from the ministry that had been held in honor by them blamelessly” (44.6). van Unnik (1970) rightly characterized the letter a piece of deliberative or symbouleutic rhetoric, and went on to show how Clement casts these people who have replaced the leaders as guilty of faction and strife. “For we shall bring upon ourselves no ordinary harm, but rather great danger, if we recklessly surrender ourselves to the purposes of people who launch out into strife and faction [εἰς ἔριν καὶ στάσεις] in order to alienate us from what is right” (14.2). As an antidote to dissension, Clement urges his audience

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to pursue peace and concord. “Let us clothe ourselves in concord [ἐνδυσώμεθα τὴν ὁμόνοιαν]” (30.3)2. He eagerly awaits news that his letter has successfully achieved its goal of restoring “peace and concord [εἰρήνην καὶ ὁμόνοιαν]” in Corinth. This constellation of terms (ὁμόνοια, εἰρήνη, ἔρις, στάσις) is telling. It forms the framework, following the rhetorical theory of Floyd Bitzer (1968), for the creation of the rhetorical situation or exigence Clement crafts his letter to address and resolve. It also locates the letter within an orbit of political rhetoric. The ideals of concord were the subject of centuries of political reflection before Clement wrote his letter, and the theme περὶ ὁμόνοιας had become a rhetorical commonplace by the first century (Moulakis 1973; Sheppard 1984–86; Thraede 1994). The speeches and treatises of Clement’s contemporaries, Dio of Prusa (e.g., Orat. 38–41) and Plutarch (Precepts of Statecra [Mor. 814F–815B; 824A–C]), as well as of the slightly later Aelius Aristides (Orat. 23–24), are representative of its deployment in political rhetoric. From them we learn the contents and commonplaces that make up the topos. These include household, military, nautical, musical, natural, and cosmic language, metaphors and extended analogies, all of which belong to persuasive strategies to promote civic peace and alleviate social discord.3 Of these commonplaces, cosmic and natural examples predominate (Wong 1977), but Clement, as Bakke (2001: 63–204) notes, also appeals to a wide repertoire of terms at home in the homonoia topos: military imagery and the body motif (1.3; 20.1–12; 21.6–8; 23.4; 24.1–5; 27.1–6; 33.3–8; 37.1–5; 46.6–7; 60.1); peace (εἰρήνη), humility (ταπεινόφρων, ταπεινοφροσύνη and cognates); and submission (ὑποταγή and cognates).4 Opposite to these, Maier (1987) has noted the presence of terms that portray vices associated with the topos, ἔρις and στάσις: jealousy (ζῆλος), envy (φθόνος), arrogance (αὐθάδη, ἀλαζονεία), anger (ὀργή), boasting, war (πόλεμος), pride (ὑπερηφανία), and vanity (κενοδοξία). In Dio’s case their Sitz im Leben occurs in his ambassadorial role to resolve disputes between cities in Asia Minor. Clement similarly takes on the role of ambassador in dispatching Claudius Ephebus and Valerius Bito with the letter from the Roman church, whose task it also is to bring news of the hoped-for peace (65.1). Bakke (2001: 222) notes that Clement introduces the majority of these commonplace terms in the letter’s opening, or exordium, which he then takes up again in the development of the argument or proof (the probatio) and then reiterates at the conclusion of the letter (the peroration).Once we recognize the way the author has appropriated and developed the traditional treatment of the themes ὁμόνοια and στάσις we are in a better position to see how the document coheres. Bakke (2001: 232–33) further shows that chs. 4.1–39.9 and 40.1–61.3 correspond rhetorically to thesis and hypothesis, or a general treatment followed by

2. All translations are by Holmes (2007) unless otherwise noted. 3. Kramer (1915); Skard (1932); and De Romilly (1972). 4. For example, 1.3; 2.1, 2; 3.4; 9.4; 11.2; 15.1; 16.1, 2, 5, 17; 17.2; 19.1, 2; 20.1; 21.1, 8; 22.5; 34.5; 30.3; 31.4; 34.5; 37.5; 38.1, 2; 44.3; 48.6; 49.5; 50.5; 54.2; 56.1; 57.1, 2; 58.2; 60.3–4; 61.1, 2; 63.2, 4; 64.1; 65.1.

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a more precise and circumstantial one. This division helps to understand the role and nature of biblical citation in the letter and alerts us to its careful design. In the more general treatment, Clement draws on the LXX to outline general principles that should frame and set the context for the more precise treatment that will follow in 40.1–61.3.

Homonoia, Stasis and Clement’s Use of the Septuagint Clement cites the Greek Old Testament several dozen times. Close analysis by Hagner (1973: 21–108; also Paget 2015) shows that quotations are often perfect, sometimes they contain minor variants, and sometimes his quotations are moderately different from known Greek translations. There is no apparent pattern to these inconsistencies. Some attempt to account for the data by reference to Clement’s use of a florilegium of Hellenistic Jewish texts.5 Hagner more compellingly argues that Clement has quoted Greek translation from memory, which would account for a random set of variations ranging from minor to more moderate composite citation. He argues that composite quotations resulted when Clement took up a theme and one text triggered memory of another. The reason for Clement’s extensive citation of the LXX has been explained by theories that the letter is analogous to a Jewish paraenetic sermon,6 that it has been influenced by Jewish apologetic literature or liturgical tradition (Beyschlag 1966; Barnard 1967), or even that it reflects the influence of Qumran (Jaubert 1964). I propose that it is political rhetoric that drives and ties Clement’s extensive quotations together. For the red thread that runs through Clement’s Septuagint citations are the twin themes of concord and faction and their respective virtues and vices. Two striking examples must suffice. The first, 4.1–6.3, comes at the beginning of the section where Clement describes the community eroding vice of jealousy (ζῆλος). The theme appears in the exordium at 3.2, where Clement takes up a typical theme that wealth breeds hubris and hubris results in faction and strife: “All glory and growth were given to you, and then that which is written was fulfilled: ‘My beloved ate and drank and was enlarged and grew fat and kicked’ (Deut. 32:15). From this came jealousy and envy, strife and sedition, persecution and anarchy, war and captivity [ἐκ τούτου ζῆλος καὶ φθόνος, ἔρις καὶ στάσις, διωγμὸς καὶ ἀκαταστασία, πόλεμος καὶ αἰχμαλωσία].” To illustrate the community eroding vices of jealousy and sedition he quotes verbatim the Cain and Abel story (Gen. 4:1-6). Then he points to jealousy as the reason for Jacob’s flight from Esau (Gen. 27:41–28:5), Joseph’s persecution by his brothers (Genesis 37), Moses’s flight from Pharaoh when challenged by his compatriots over his authority over them (quoting

5. Skarsaune (1996: 373–422); Albl (1999); Harris (1920); Prigent (1961); Grant and Graham (1965: 10–13). 6. Skarsaune (1996: 383–83); Wrede (1891: 57); Knopf (1899: 18); and Knoch (1964: 43).

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Exod. 2:14), Aaron and Miriam’s exclusion from the camp (Numbers 12), the revolt of Dathan and Abiram (Numbers 16), and Saul’s persecution of David. Later, in 6.3, he points to strife between wives and husbands as a violation of Adam’s saying over Eve, “bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” (Gen. 2:23). Here a pastiche of stories join together to amplify the ζῆλος, φθόνος, ἔρις, στάσις commonplaces. The second example proves especially important for understanding the relationship of 1 Clement to Paul, namely, the treatment of Abraham. Clement takes up the patriarch in three passages (10.1–7; 17.2; 31.1). Abraham is as important to Clement as the apostle, but unlike Paul his importance does not center in a discussion of the Law and the patriarch’s importance for Gentile inclusion in God’s covenant with Israel. Rather, Abraham reveals a pattern for concord as the antidote to strife and jealousy. Indeed it is notable that Abraham only appears in the thesis section of the letter, that is, as a marker of a set of principles—in this case moral ones. Abraham’s righteousness expresses his dedication to the virtues that make for human cooperation and as a pattern for imitation; it does not play the role developed by Paul in his defense or explanation of the Gospel. Clement shows this where he cites the verse perhaps most important to Paul, Gen. 15:6. (“And Abraham believed God and it was reckoned to him as righteousness.”) In contrast to Paul who uses Abraham to contrast faith and works of the law (Rom. 4:1-25), 1 Clement uses the entire Abraham narrative as well as the Abrahamic covenant to illustrate the antidote to “the fruitless toil and the strife and the jealousy that leads to death [τὴν ματαιοπονίαν τήν τε ἔριν καὶ τὸ εἰς θάνατον ἄγον ζῆλος]” (9.1). Abraham’s hospitality, not his faith, is central. Abraham is the first figure Clement takes up; Lot and Rahab follow as manifesting similar virtues. Although he nowhere refers to Gen. 18, where Abraham hosts visitors at Mamre, Clement nevertheless singles the patriarch out as a model of “faith and hospitality” (10.7; 11.1; 12.1). Such hospitality is the antidote to strife and jealousy and, as Bakke (2001: 157–60) notes, is a commonplace feature of treatment of concord in literature contemporary with 1 Clement. Abraham’s faith is his obedience to God’s command by which he proves himself “the friend” of God (10.1; Isa. 41:8; 2 Chron. 20:7). Here Clement is closer to James 2:23 (which also describes Abraham as “friend of God” and focuses on the patriarch’s obedience as making his faith righteous) and Heb. 11:8-12. As a case can be made that both James and Hebrews were composed in Rome, or at least that similar traditions were circulating in the capital, the parallel is instructive for a treatment of Abraham independent of Paul. The association of righteousness and obedience appears as well in contemporary Jewish tradition; the closest parallel occurs in 1 Macc. 5:32 where the Akedah is directly linked to Abraham’s faithfulness being reckoned to him as righteousness. In 17.2, Abraham is once again named “friend of God” and appears alongside Elijah, Elisha, Job, Moses, and David as examples of humility (17.1-18.17 [18:1-17 = LXX Ps 50:3-19]). Abraham reveals his humility in describing himself as “only dust and ashes” (Gen. 18:27). For Clement this is emblematic of his humility, the antidote to strife. In 31.1-3 the theme of humility as cure for discord brought about by arrogance appears after it is introduced in 30:8. Here, now directly parallel with James  2:21-23, Abraham’s obedience to God’s command to sacrifice  Isaac

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(Gen.  22:1-10) attests his faith; indeed, even Isaac shows his faith through his obedience to Abraham, his knowledge of Israel’s future, and his willingness to be sacrificed. These examples could be multiplied: they testify to Clement’s use of usually exact citations of the LXX to illustrate the themes of concord and strife that organize the thesis section of his letter. The LXX appears again in the letter’s hypothesis section (39.1–61.3), where Clement turns to the particular circumstances that have occasioned the letter for exhortation and admonition. In the chapters where Clement most concretely casts the events that have unfolded in Corinth (40–44), he likens the leadership of the church to that of the priests and Levites of the Jewish temple, who have been selected by God to perform liturgical duties at particular places and appointed times (40.2–41.3). This establishes the context for the uses of Jewish tradition that follow in the remaining chapters. With the help of a variety of LXX texts, Clement develops a picture of some Corinthians as seditionists who through jealousy and rivalry have divided the church and builds a case for their voluntary exile. It is notable that unlike Hebrews (a document our author almost certainly knew; Hagner 1973: 179–95), which considers the Jewish priesthood and temple sacrifice rendered obsolete by the priestly self-sacrifice of Jesus, Clement refers to the cult as still functioning (40.4; 41.2).7 Here, Clement wants to show that even as God has ordained sacred officials to preside over a continuing Jerusalem cult, God has similarly instituted leaders at Corinth who are to remain in place. In 42.5, he argues that the apostles assigned the individuals to succeed the first leaders they appointed as a fulfillment of Scripture: “And this was no new thing they did, for indeed something had been written about bishops and deacons many years ago; for somewhere thus says the Scripture: ‘I will appoint their bishops in righteousness and their deacons in faith.’” This is exceptional as in every other instance where Clement introduces a citation with the word “somewhere [πού]” the variation is not far from a known text.

Homonoia, Stasis and Clement’s Use of Paul Clement’s citations of Paul, as indeed quotations from other New Testament writings, differ in kind from his LXX references. Whereas the latter are usually verbatim or show only minor variation from known Greek versions, quotation of Paul often diverges markedly from the apostle’s letters (Hagner 1973: 195–237). This is especially the case in his citation of 1 Corinthians, a letter Clement knows and cites repeatedly. One important and oft-cited reason for this is the obvious fact that our author who is himself a kind of Paulinist is writing to the Corinthian Church. But not noticed thus far is that 1 Clement cites Paul precisely in passages most to do with the homonoia and stasis complex of terms and concepts. Indeed

7. Mees (1978); Ellingworth (1979); Lona (1998: 52–55) argue that Hebrews and 1 Clement share a common tradition.

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1 Corinthians furnishes Clement with a series of Pauline allusions with which to promote his version of concord. 1 Corinthians is a deliberative letter that creates a rhetorical situation of faction in order to resolve it through an appeal to concord. This is especially the case in chs. 1–4. In 1:10 Paul deploys a set of terms that signal his intention by exhorting the Corinthians to “agree that there be no dissensions amongst you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same judgment [τὸ αὐτὸ λέγητε πάντες καὶ μὴ ᾗ ἐν ὑμῖν σχίσματα, ἧτε δὲ κατηρτισμένοι ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ νοῒ καὶ ἐν τῇ αὐτῇ γνώμῃ].” In v. 11 he describes quarrelling between allies of different apostles; in 3:3 he portrays them as guilty of “jealousy and strife [ζῆλος καὶ ἔρις]”; throughout he associates them with boasting and arrogance, vices linked in the rhetorical tradition with stasis (1:29, 31; 3:21; 4:6, 16, 19). In the rest of the letter Paul returns to promote virtues associated with concord: peace (7:15); social and cosmic order (7:17-24; 12:28-31; 14:40; 15:22-28); reconciliation (7:10); unity (10:17; 12:4-11); right submission (15:28; 16:16), as well as vices that bring discord: jealousy (13:4); arrogance (5:2; 8:1; 13:5); boasting (5:6; 9:15-16; 13:5); divisions/factions (11:18, 19)—all conventional terms of the stasis commonplace. Additionally he deploys topoi that belong to the theme of political harmony: the unity of husband and wife (6:16-17), the good order of the household (7:3-4; 11:316; 14:33-36), the body (6:15; 12:12-17). As the letter unfolds Paul’s continual appeal is to unity and to harmony, which he represents with a series of typical terms and motifs found in the concord topos. It is where the homonoia and stasis topoi are most prevalent that Clement cites and adapts Paul’s letter, that is, 1 Cor. 1:11, ch. 12, 13, and 15. At 47.1–4 he relates the present situation in Corinth to the factions arising from competition over Cephas and Apollo (1 Cor. 1:11, replacing ἔριδες with προσκλίσεις). Later, in 37.5–38.1 he reworks 1 Cor. 12:20-25, 28. Here Clement takes what is implicit in the Pauline passage and inherent in the homonoia topos and makes it explicit: “All the members coalesce harmoniously and unite in mutual subjection [πάντα συνπνεῖ καὶ ὑποταγῇ μιᾷ χρῆται εἰς τὸ σῴζεσθαι ὅλον τὸ σῶμα]” (37.5f–g). Here Holmes has tried to make the best out of a difficult set of terms by rendering their meaning figuratively rather than literally: συνπνει καὶ ὑποταγῇ μιᾷ speaks of the unity and good order typical of the topos. Further in 38.1–2, Clement applies the body motif and its role in 1 Corinthians to correct abuses of spiritual gifts and unites them with the Pauline teaching of strong caring for weak (1 Cor. 8:10-11; Rom. 15:1-6). The result is a recalibration of the original Pauline outlook as Clement promotes concord by urging rich and poor to economic solidarity. Here he applies the reference to wisdom and eloquence found in 1 Cor. 1:17-25 and 2:4 not to the cross and the crucified Christ, but to good works: “Let the wise display wisdom not in words but in good works [ὁ σοφὸς ἐνδεικνύσθω τὴν σοφίαν αὐτοῦ μὴ ¡ἐν λόγοις⁄ἀλλ̓ ἐν ἔργοις ἀγαθοῖς]” (38.2). The result is the reuse of a series of Paul’s words that Clement deploys to correct communal harmony in a new situation. A similar transposition appears in Clement’s use of 1 Cor. 13. In 49.1–6 he turns, as did Paul, to the theme of love as a remedy for Corinthian faction, but with telling changes to the apostle’s treatment. Table 1 (following Hagner 1973: 200) presents Clement’s changes.

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Table 1 Comparison of 1 Clem. 49.5 and 1 Cor. 13 1 Clem. 49.5

1 Cor. 13

a: ἀγάπη πάντα ἀνέχεται, b: πάντα μακροθυμεῖ· c: οὐδὲν βάναυσον ἐν ἀγάπῃ, d: οὐδὲν ὑπερήφανον· e: ἀγάπη σχίσμα οὐκ ἔχει, f: ἀγάπη οὐ στασιάζει, g: ἀγάπη πάντα ποιεῖ ἐν ὁμονοίᾳ· h: ἐν τῇ ἀγάπῃ ἐτελειώθησαν πάντες οἱ ἐκλεκτοὶ τοῦ θεοῦ· i: δίχα ἀγάπης οὐδὲν εὐάρεστόν ἐστιν τῷ θεῷ.

v. 7: πάντα στέγει . . . πάντα ὑπομένει v. 4: ̔η ἀγάπη μακροθυμεῖ v. 6: οὐ χαίρει ἐπὶ τῇ ἀδικίᾳ v. 4: οὐ περπερεύεται, οὐ φυσιοῦται v. 5: οὐ ζητεῖ τὰ ἑαυτῆς v. 6: οὐ παροξύνεται v. 7: οὐ λογίζεται τὸ κακόν v. 10: ὅταν δὲ ἔλθῃ τὸ τέλειον Heb. 11.6?: χωρὶς δὲ πίστεως ἀδύνατον εὐαρεστῆσαι

Here the most remarkable changes occur at 49.5d, e, and g where Clement takes a passage that is already marked by homonoia themes but magnifies them through the deployment of the terms: ὑπερήφανον (d; φυσιοῦται, 13.4), σχίσμα (e; ζητεῖ τὰ ἑαυτῆς, 5), στασιάζει (f; παροξύνεται, 6), and ὁμονοία (g; οὐ λογίζεται τὸ κακόν, 7). This set of striking parallels and adaptations shows how far off the mark Louis Sanders (1943: 140–43) is when he accounts for both passages by appeal to a shared Pythagorean or Stoic source. Clement has not drawn from philosophical tradition, rather he has adapted a preexisting Pauline text and couched it in terms at home in the themes of concord and faction. Whether he is quoting Paul from memory, as the rearrangement of synonymous phrases might suggest, or copying him is indeterminate. What is clear is that he has adapted Paul for a new situation with a view to his own construction of a rhetorical situation. A similar appropriation appears at 1 Clem. 35.5–6, where there is evidence of dependence on Rom 1:29-32.8 Here stasis commonplaces parallel one another. The 8. Underlined words indicate identical terms or cognates and reveal a remarkable agreement of nouns but placed in a different order. Clement has obviously drawn the vices from Romans and has understood that Paul has used them to describe the social erosion stasis represents, as the context of the Clement passage indicates. The final lines are identical in content and syntactically similar. Rom. 1:29-32,

1 Clem. 35.5-6,

πεπληρωμένους πάσῃ ἀδικίᾳ πονηρίᾳ πλεονεξίᾳ κακίᾳ, μεστοὺς φθόνου φόνου ἔριδος δόλου κακοηθείας, ψιθυριστὰς καταλάλους θεοστυγεῖς ὑβριστὰς ὑπερηφάνους ἀλαζόνας, ἐφευρετὰς κακῶν, γονεῦσιν ἀπειθεῖς, ἀσυνέτους ἀσυνθέτους ἀστόργους ἀνελεήμονας· οἵτινες τὸ δικαίωμα τοῦ θεοῦ ἐπιγνόντες ὅτι οἱ τὰ τοιαῦτα πράσσοντες ἄξιοι θανάτου εἰσίν, οὐ μόνον αὐτὰ ποιοῦσιν ἀλλὰ καὶ συνευδοκοῦσιν τοῖς πράσσουσιν.

πῶς δὲ ἔσται τοῦτο, ἀγαπητοί; ἐὰν ἐστηριγμένη ᾗ ἡ διάνοια ἡμῶν διὰ πίστεωςπρὸς τὸν θεόν· ἐὰν ἐκ ζητῶμεν τὰ εὐάρεστα καὶ εὐπρόσδεκτα αὐτῷ· ἐὰν ἐπιτελέσωμεν τὰ ἀνήκοντα τῇ ἀμώμῳ βουλήσει αὐτοῦ καὶ ἀκολουθήσωμεν τῇ ὁδῷ τῆς ἀληθείας, ἀπορρίψαντες ἀφ̓ ἑαυτῶν πᾶσαν ἀδικίαν καὶ ἀνομίαν, πλεονεξί αν, ἔρεις, κακοηθείας τε καὶ δόλους, ψιθυρισμούς τε καὶ καταλαλιάς, θεοστυγίαν, ὑπερηφανίαν τε καὶ ἀλαζονείαν, κενοδοξίαν τε καὶ ἀφιλοξενίαν. ταῦτα γὰρ οἱ πράσσοντες στυγητοὶ τῷ θεῷ ὑπάρχουσιν· οὐ μόνον δὲ οἱ πράσσοντες αὐτά, ἀλλὰ καὶ οἱ συνευδοκοῦντες αὐτοῖς.

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vice list Paul deploys to illustrate the social and moral consequences of idolatry are termini technici in the Hellenistic representation of stasis (ἀδικία, πλεονεξία, φθόνος, ἔριδες, ὑβριστής, ὑπερήφανος, ἀλαζών). Clement includes all of these terms but places them in a different order. More importantly, the list appears in a passage where he is urging his listeners to do “those things that are in harmony with his faultless will [τὰ ἀνήκοντα τῇ ἀμώμῳ βουλήσει αὐτοῦ]” (35.5). If Clement adapts Paul to make him fit into his homonoia configuration, he also transforms the apostle’s notion of faith and righteousness for a similar purpose. Paul’s uses of the terms πίστις and πιστεύω as well as δίκαιος, δικαιοσύνη, δικαιόω are of course central to the latest undisputed letters: Galatians and Romans. In their closest cousin, Ephesians, πίστις, and cognates lose the important place they occupy in the elaborate exegetical arguments of Paul’s final letters and instead appear almost formulaically (e.g., 2:8; 4:5; 6:23); δίκαιος appears but once in 6:1 in the Haustafel representation of children’s obligation to their parents. In 1 Clement δικ- and πισ- recur dozens of times. But as in Ephesians they have lost their exegetical function and rather become terms to describe a noble virtue. With respect to the corpus Paulinum they are closest to the deployment in the Pastoral Epistles, where righteousness and faith have become a moral quality, or, in the latter case, a content of belief.9 The high number of terms (Lona 1998: 50, lists 16) shared exclusively by 1 Clement and the Pastorals further attest their family resemblance. The Pastorals adapt Paul for a polemical situation, perhaps where there is a contest over the apostle’s legacy, which helps also to account for their pseudonymity. Clement, by contrast, has no such need to adopt the Pauline persona and his usage of similar terms is for an entirely different end. Theological interests have resulted in debates whether Clement undermines the Pauline teaching of justification by faith.10 This ignores the role of this language in helping to promote harmony and leads to misunderstandings of Clement’s intentions. As we saw above, Clement’s appropriation of the Pauline treatment of Abraham points to righteousness centered in concord-promoting obedience and virtue (10.1–7; 17.2; 31.2), not trust in God’s promise (Gal. 3:6-9; Rom. 4:1-5, 9-12). But both Paul and Clement agree that such concord arises from and expresses a prior condition. For Paul that prior condition is soteriologically conceived through God’s irrevocable covenant with Israel and what God has done with the event of Jesus’s death and resurrection to make Gentile inclusion in that covenant possible (also, Räisänen 2015: 217–20; Andrén 1960: 154). For Clement, peace and concord among humans rest upon a universal structure of creation and the work of God in preserving it and in showing mercy to God’s creatures. Here van Unnik’s (1950) identification of the sapiential backdrop to 1 Clem. 20, where the author praises

9. Δικ—1 Tim. 1:9; 6:11; 2 Tim. 2:22; 3:16; 4:8; Tit. 1:8; 3:5; πισ—1 Tim. 1:12; 1:14, 15, 19; 2:7, 15; 3:1, 9, 11, 13; 4:1, 3, 6, 9, 10; 4:12; 5:8, 12, 16; 6:2, 10, 11, 12, 21; 2 Tim. 1:5, 13; 2:2, 11, 13, 18, 22; 3:8, 10, 14, 15; 4:7; Tit. 1:1, 4, 6, 9, 13; 2:2, 10; 3:8, 15. 10. For example, Torrance (1960: 44–54); Neilson (1962: 131–50); Schulz (1982: 322); Cooper and Leith (2013: 68–77); and Räisänen (2015 for a review).

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the order of the cosmos, is particularly instructive even as it reveals the degree to which 1 Clement is couched in wisdom theology more generally. Clement seems to come closest to Paul in 32.4, where he contrasts the righteousness that comes from the call of God and faith with that which comes “through ourselves or through our own wisdom or understanding or piety, or works that we have done in holiness of heart.” However, the parallel of Paul’s notion of righteousing/rightwising is superficial. In 31.2 Clement states that Abraham “attained righteousness and truth through faith [δικαιοσύνην καὶ ἀλήθειαν διὰ πίστεως]” in a context that refers to the Akedah (Gen. 22:1-10). It is parallel with Isaac’s willingness to be sacrificed and Jacob’s humility in leaving Esau to serve Laban (Gen. 28–29). The same pattern appears in 30:3, where rightwising comes at the end of a long set of the virtues. Here Clement combines the Pauline motif of clothing or putting on (ἐνδύω) with homonoia. For Paul, Abraham’s righteousness relates to his trust in God’s promise to him. Clement is closer to James (2:21, 24) than he is to Galatians or Romans in making justification by faith an aspect of performance and obedience. But like Paul, Clement’s orientation to obedience, or faith and works, is as a response to God’s mercy. There is a difference in the placement of the indicative of salvation. In 1 Clement, unlike Paul where obedience derives from prior covenantal and christological affirmations, there is a strong emphasis on the manifesting of divine love in the ordering of the cosmos and the church as antecedent to obedience.

The Flavian Paul Whence comes this transposition of a Pauline legacy? It is not possible to identify to what social strife and internal division Clement refers. The attempts to link the letter with a Domitianic persecution rest on a misunderstanding of both the terms of 1.1 where evidence of tribulation has been improperly detected as well as the very idea of a persecution under the last Flavian emperor (Welborn 1984). Welborn argues that 1.1 should be read not as a reference to persecution but as a captatio benevolentiae, that is, a means of achieving good will, here through shared struggle and challenges. He shows that the terms of 1.1 recur often in ancient representations of political strife and as such are termini technici associated with stasis. To which shared struggle and challenges does Clement refer? The experience of the Roman civil war of 68/69 may furnish an answer. The conflict left the center of Rome in ruins, and offered an unprecedented opportunity for a new dynasty to leave its mark on the city (Boyle 2003). Vespasian set about rebuilding and repairing buildings. But perhaps his most important contribution to the urban landscape was the Templum Pacis, a monument celebrating both the restoration of peace in Rome and the Flavian victory in Judaea. It formed the third imperial forum of the city. Its construction began in 71 CE and was over ten times the size of Augustan Ara Pacis, after which it was modeled. This accompanied the ceremonial closing of the gates of the Temple of Janus, a celebration of the achievement of

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worldwide peace. The Templum Pacis expressed in stone the two chief messages of Flavian propaganda, Concordia and Pax, both of which were shaped to acclaim to the general public that a new stable and harmonious order had come with the Flavian dynasty.11 The Flavians were the first fully to exploit coinage to broadcast its image peace and concord, especially in lower denominations as a means of reaching as wide a population as possible (Blamberg 1976: 31–33). Typical examples include a denarius minted in Rome in 69–71 CE with the legend PACIS EVENTU, another minted 71–74 CE with Ceres seated holding corn ears and a cornucopia with the inscription Concordia, and a third issued at Ephesus in 71 CE portraying the profile of the goddess Pax on the reverse with the inscription PAC ORB TERR AUG.12 It is against this backdrop that Clement’s appropriation of both Paul and the homonoia/stasis rhetorical tradition becomes especially noteworthy. Scholars have noticed the presence of political language in 1 Clement. Some have argued that the letter sought to ward off the threat of persecution.13 It is more convincing that Clement wrote his letter in a social world where the end of social discord and the establishment of peace were being universally celebrated. This explains why at the conclusion of his letter Clement prays for the emperor and civil authorities in the very terms they are representing themselves. Here the recurrence of rhetorically significant political terms (εἰρήνη, ὁμόνοια, εὐστάθεια—61.1) resonates with the larger Flavian order, as does the theme of the political order expressing a divinely appointed cosmic concord. Clement’s peroration expresses what one can see throughout the letter as a whole—the placing of the Corinthians in a harmonious political space that accords with Flavian ideals of concord and peace. Here again we may detect a Pauline imprint of the kind enshrined in Rom. 13:1-7. Clement’s prayer for authorities coheres well with the wishes of another Paulinist, the author of 1 Tim. 2:1-2, who, like our author, reflects the currents of his imperial world in using Paul’s voice to promote a church marked by civic virtues for the sake of good order and peace, a thematic developed widely among early Christ believers (Löhr 2003: 334–59). Here, Clement’s use of concord contrasts with commonplaces found in 1 Corinthians. In the earlier letter even as Paul expects an imminent end to the age he enjoins the Corinthians to pursue a kind of social utopianism of freedom from strife and embodiment of concord celebrated across the Roman Empire. The church is where the sign of the renewal of all things finds its first expression: harmony and peace among believers is to be the sign of the breaking in of this new order. Clement does not see things from the inside of the church looking out, but from

11. Burnett, Amandray, and Carradice (1999: 126); Tuck (2016); and Darwall-Smith (1996). 12. RIC 2, nos. 1374–5; RIC 2.1433; BMC 459, respectively. For commentary, Tuck (2016: 117–18). 13. Dibelius (1942); Eggenberger (1951); Peretto (1989); Mikat (1969); Brunner (1972); Ziegler and Brunner (1992).

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the perspective of the Empire looking in, an Empire where God is at work bringing about a harmonious society to which the church is to conform as the pattern of a cosmic and imperial concord and peace (Horrell 1996: 238–80). The Flavian Paul anticipates the apostle who was to prove especially important as a fledgling movement developed into a new imperial religion. He takes his place alongside the Pastoral Epistles as achieving an imperial Pauline vision. Additionally, his vision is similar to that of the author of Ephesians, where again homonoia language appears in a letter suffused with political terms and metaphor. Ephesians offers another Flavian vision of Paul, in which Jews and Gentiles are integrated into the church where the ideals of unity and peace typical of concord are celebrated and promoted. 1 Clement leaves the historical apostle’s preoccupation with the relation between Israel and the church to one side and in this aspect departs significantly from Ephesians. But, like its cousin, Clement portrays a faction-free church as Paul’s highest ideal and as such reflects the new imperial order of worldwide peace and the transition to stable government and the renewal of an order blemished by the faction of civil war.

References Albl, M. C. (1999), And Scripture Cannot be Broken: The Form and Function of the Early Christian Testimonia Collections, Leiden: Brill. Andrén, O. (1960), Rättfärdighet och frid: En studie i det första Clemensbrevet = Righteousness and Peace, Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell. Bakke, O. M. (2001), “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. Barnard, L. W. (1967), “The Early Roman Church, Judaism, and Jewish-Christianity,” Anglican Theological Review 49: 371–84. Barnett, A. E. (1941), Paul becomes a Literary Influence, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Beyschlag, K. (1966), Clemens Romanus und der Frühkatholizismus: Untersuchungen zu I Clemens 1–7, Tübingen: Mohr (Siebeck). Bitzer, L. (1968), “The Rhetorical Situation,” Philosophy and Rhetoric 1: 1–18. Blamberg, J. E. (1976), “The Public Image Projected by the Roman Emperors (A.D. 69–117) as Reflected in Contemporary Imperial Coinage,” PhD diss., Indiana University, Ann Arbor: University Microfilms International. Bowe, B. E. (1988), A Church in Crisis: Ecclesiology and Paraenesis in Clement of Rome, Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Boyle, A. J. (2003), “Introduction: Reading Flavian Rome,” in A. J. Boyle and W. J. Domink (eds.), Flavian Rome: Culture, Image, Text, 1–68, Leiden: Brill, 2003. Boyle, A. J., and W. J. Dominik (2003), Flavian Rome: Culture, Image, Text, Leiden: Brill. Breytenbach, C. (2003), “Civic Concord and Cosmic Harmony: Sources of Metamorphic Mapping in 1 Clement 20.3,” in J. T. Fitzgerald, T. H. Olbricht, and L. M. White (eds.), Early Christianity and Classical Culture: Comparative Studies in Honor of Abraham Malherbe, 259–73, Leiden: Brill, 2003.

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INDEX OF AUTHORS Achtemeyer, P. 241 Aitken, E. B. 276 Allison, D. C. 236, 239, 241, 248 Amorai-Stark, S., M. Hershkovitz, and L Holand. 159 Amsler, F. 122 Andrén, O. 309 Attridge, H. 267, 269, 274–6, 283 Aune, D. 132–3 Avemarie, F. 239 Backhaus, K. 267, 269, 283 Baird, W. 131 Bakke, O. 302–3, 305 Balch, D. L. 174, 198 Barclary, J. M. G. 108 Barnard, L. W. 304 Barr, J. 163 Barth, M. 53 Bassler, J. M. 96 Bauckham, R. 113, 161, 241, 294 Bauer, B. 253 Bauer, F. C. 13, 120, 131–2, 253–5 Bauer, W. 255–6 Becker, E.-M, T. Engberg-Pedersen, and M. Müller. 13 BeDuhn, J. 227 Beker, J. C. 154, 163 Berchman, R. M. 75 Berquist, J. L. 276 Best, E. 18, 49, 53 Beyshclag, K. 304 Bitzer, F. 303 Blamberg, J. E. 311 Borchart, K. E., E. Hanke, and W. Schluchter. 65 Bornkamm, G. 80 Bowe, B. E. 302 Bowles S., and H. Gintis. 62 Boyarin, D. 121, 155 Boyle, A. J. 310

Brandon, S. G. F. 109 Brawley, R. L. 170 Brecker, C. 152 Breytenbach, C. 302 Bruce, F. F. 81 Buell, D. 259 Bultmann, R. 132 Burton, E. D. 79, 81–2 Cadwallader, A. H. 66 Cadwallader, A. H. and M. Trainor. Campbell, W. 37, 88, 157, 220 Campenhausen, H. 302 Caragounis, C. C. 302 Charlesworth, J. 163, 272 Chepey, S. D. 199 Cheung, A. 137, 141 Childs, B. S. 242 Chilton, B. 161 Collins, J. J. 143 Conzelmann, H. 152 Cranfield, C. E. B. 280 Credner, K. 254 Crossley, J. G. 113 Cuvillier, E. 242

66

Dahl, N. 33 Dassman, E. 256 Davies, W. D. 110, 159, 161 Davies, W. D. and D. C. Allison. 109 Deacon, T. 63 Debelius, M. 241, 246 De Boer, M. 301 DeMaris, R. E. 75 De Wette, W. M. L. 253 Diels, H. 76 Dillon, J. M. 75 Dodd, C. H. 132, 153 Dodson, J., and D. Briones. 226 Duff, P. 138 Dumais, M. 173

318

Index of Authors

Dunn, J. 18, 84–5, 151, 157, 179, 217–18, 239 Dunning, B. 14, 22 Durkheim, É. 62–3 Eco, U. 271 Ehrensperger, K. 94, 102 Eisenbaum, P. 15, 183 Elliot, J. K. 241 Elliot, N. 45 Elmer, I. J. 114 Engberg-Pedersen, T. 70 Engelmann, M. 88 Eschner, C. 277, 280 Esler, P. 29, 171 Farmer, W. R. 173, 249 Faust, E. 45, 50 Feldmeier, R. 241 Fiorenza, E. S. 141 Flusser, D. 155 Foster, R. 112–13 Fowl, S. 102 Fox, R. L. 290 Frankfurter, D. 132–8 Fredriksen, P. 142–5 Frey, J. 225 Fullenbach, J. 301 Fürst, A., and Th. Fuhrer.

Hengel, M. with R. Deines. 157 Henrich, J. 62 Herzer, J. 88 Hicks, R. D. 78 Hodge, J. 292 Hoffmann, R. J. 218 Horrell, D. 96–7, 291, 296, 312 Horsley, R. A. 45 Hübner, S. M. 95–6 Hulton, J. F. 292, 295 Huston, C. 91 Iser, W. 270 Iverson, K. R.

112

Jackson-McCabe, M. 121, 248 James, H. 270 Jaubert, A. 304 Jaworski, A. 252 Jervell, J. 183, 194, 196 Jipp, J. 143–4 Jonas, H. 77 Jones, F. S. 128 Jossa, G. 224 Joyce, J. 272

226

Gager, J. G. 125, 180–1 Gardner, G. E. 101 Gaston, L. 125, 182 Gelardini, G. 276 Gese, M. 13 Green, G. L. 289, 291 Gruen, E. 221 Guignard, C. 231–2 Haenchen, E. 152 Hagen, K. 268 Hagner, D. A. 304, 306–7 Haidt, J. 62 Hallbäck, G. 59, 60–1 Hamel, G. 100–2 Harrill, J. A. 50 Hayes, C. 138 Hayes, R. 245 Hengel, M. 78, 115, 173, 250

Kaestli, J. D. 128 Kampling, R. 272 Karrer, M. 268–9, 272–3 Keener, C. 154, 159 Kelber, W. 61 Klijn, A. F. J. 127 Klinghardt, M. 227 Knox, J. 153 Koester, C. 141, 153, 283 Koet, B. 194, 198 Konradt, M. 112, 115, 241 Kraabel, A. T. 159 Krause, D. 98 Kreitzer, L. J. 33, 38 Le Cornu, H., and J. Shulam. 159–61 Lentz, J. C. 158 Lieu, J. 88, 212, 216, 228, 248 Lightfoot, J. B. 78–9 Lincoln, A. 34, 37, 39 Lindemann, A. 66, 256, 302 Lockett, D. 247 Löhr, H. 311

Index of Authors Lohse, E. 81–2, 132 Lona, H. E. 302, 309 Longnecker, B. 101 Lösch, S. 302 Lotz, J.-P. 301 Lüdemann, G. 250 Luz, U. 110, 112 MacDonald, M. Y. 19 McGiffert, A. 152 Maier, H. O. 45, 301, 303 Marshal, I. H. 95 Marshal, J. 137 Martin, R. P. 79–80 Massebieau, L. 248 Mayor, J. B. 293 Mendels, D. 155 Metzger, B. 199 Mikat, P. 302 Millar, F. 155 Miller, C. A. 200 Mitchell, M. 239, 301 Moffitt, D. M. 276 Moll, S. 209 Molland, E. 127 Moo, D. J. 241 Moulakis, A. 303 Moule, C. F. D. 79, 80 Mounce, W. D. 98 Muddiman, J. 29 Murray, G. 75 Murray, M. 259 Nanos, M. D. 128 Nanos M. D. and M. Zetterholm. 108 Neusner, J. 161, 172 Newman, J. 289 Nienhuis, D. R. 239 Nienhuis, D. R, and R. W. Wall. 242, 295 Nock, A. D. 159 Novenson, M. 143 Oliver, I. 128, 182, 197, 198 Otto, J. 255 Overbeck, J. 273 Overman, J. A. 111 Pagels, E. 132–3, 136 Paget, J. C. 304

319

Pelikan, J., H. C. Oswald, and H. T. Lejmann. 248 Penner, T. 246 Pervo, R. 183–5, 242, 247 Petersen, A. K. 59, 60, 70, Popkes, W. 241 Porter, S. E. 230, 280 Porth, Y. 159 Pratscher, W. 241 Price, S. 45 Räisänen, H. 108, 209 Ramelli, I. 220–3, 226–7, 229–30 Ramsey, R. M. 154 Rapske, B. 159 Reed, A. Y. 124 Rensberger, D. 256–7 Rhem, B. 122–3, 126 Richards, E. R. 115 Ritschl, A. 254–5 Rosen-Zvi, I. and A. Ophir. 14 Roth, D. 210 Rothschild, C. 268–70, 273, 276, 279, 281–2, 284 Rudolph, D. 140, 200 Runesson, A. 109 Sadmel, S. 152, 155, 157 Saldarini, A. J. 109 Salo, K. 194 Sanders, E. P. 108, 169, 174, 179, 180, 192, 257 Sanders, L. 308 Schleiermacher, F. 253 Schmid, U. 210, 212, 230 Schniedewind, W. M. 289 Schreiber, S. 280 Schweitzer, A. 162 Schweizer, E. 76–8, 81–2 Seager, A. R. 159 Sechrest, L. L. 291 Segal, A. F. 108, 155, 157 Sevenster, J. N. 226 Sheppard, A. R. R. 303 Shires, H. 155 Shkul, M. 34 Sim, D. C. 108–15 Skarsaune, O. 258 Smail, D. L. 63

320 Smallwood, E. M. 159 Snow, C. P. 63 Soards, M. L. 246 Sohm, R. 301–2 Spitta, F. 248 Stanton, G. N. 115 Stegemann, W. 158 Stendhal, K. 121, 179, 180, 186 Stowers, S. 15 Strecker, G. 121 Stuckenbruck, L. 142 Talbert, C. 154 Tannehill, R. 154 Tanner, K. 37 Thackeray, J. 162 Theissen, G. 112 Thiessen, M. 200–1, 262 Thoreau, H. D. 252 Thraede, K. 303 Tomasello, M. 62 Tomson, P. 132–3 Townsend, J. T. 128 Troiani, L. 174 Turchain, P. 62 Turner, J., A. Geertz, and A. K. Petersen. 62, 64 Tyson, J. B. 174, 210 Van Unnik, W. C. 162, 302, 309 Vermes, G. 167, 172

Index of Authors Verseput, D. J. 246 Von Harnack, A. 210, 215, 255, 301–2 Wall, R. W. 250 Wehnert, J. 127 Werline, R. 262 Whiston, W. 278 White, B. 13, 17, 121, 256, 258 Whitlark, J. A. 276 Whitley, D. E. H. 152 Willitts, J. 112, 138–40, 143, 257 Wilson, S. G. 210 Wischmeyer, O., D. C. Sim, and I. J. Elmer. 113 Witt, R. E. 75 Wolter, M. 272 Wong, D. W. F. 303 Wong, E. F. C. 112 Wrede, W. 302 Wright, N. T. 157 Wyschogrod, M. 201 Yee. T.-L. N.

19, 31

Zahn, T. 255, 277 Zamfir, K. 95, 97 Zangenberg, J. K. 112, 115 Zerubavel, E. 252 Zetterholm, M. 125 Ziesler, J. 115

INDEX OF TEXTS

Genesis 2:23 4:1-6 10.1-7 12 15:6 17.2 18:27 22:1-10 27:41-28:5 28-9 31:1-3 37

305 304 305 174 246, 305 305 305 306, 310 304 310 305 304

Exodus 2:14 15:5-6 19:1 19:5 19:5-8 20:12 20:22 22:20-1 22:21-2 25:17

305 296 196 199 246 98 196 247 99 278

Leviticus 12 15 16:13-5 17-18 19:17

174 174 279 127 246

Numbers 6:1-21 12 16 19

193 305 305 174

Deuteronomy 5:1 246 6:4 92

10:18 14:29 16:11 16:14 21:23 24:17 24:17-21 24:19-21 26:12-13 27:16 27:19 31:11-13 32:15

99, 247 99, 248 99 99 254 99 247 99 99, 247 254 247 93 304

Joshua 3:13-14

186

Judges 6:12-13 6:17 6:22 13:16

186 186 186 186

1 Samuel 3:1-10 24:18

186 217

2 Chronicles 20:7 34:18-30

305 93

Nehemiah 8:1-8

93

Esther 8:17

259

Psalms 10:16 50:3-19 67:5

91 305 99

68:5 145:9

247 99

Isaiah 1:17 1:23 10:2 26:20 37:4 37:11 41:8 42:7 42:16 49:6 52:7 56:6-8 57:9

99 99 99 274 92 92 305 188 188 188 36 138 36

Jeremiah 1:5 5:2 7:6 10:10 12:16 16:14-15 22:24 23:7-8 26:18

188 92 99 91 92 92 92 92 92

Ezekiel 5:11 14:20 16 16:48 17:16 22:7

92 92 36, 39 92 92 99

Hosea 1:2

138

Amos 2:11-12

194

322

Index of Texts

Habakkuk 2:3-4 2:4

274–5 270, 275–7

Zechariah 7:10 8:2-3 8:9 8:13 8:13-15 8:22-3 14:4

99 40 40 40 40 40 195

Matthew 4:18-20 5:17-19 5:17-20 5:21-48 7:12 7:21-3 11:35 13:36-43 15:1-20 16:17-19 17:1-8 19:1-19 19:17 19:28 22:21 22:34-40 23:5 23:23 28:16-20

292 109, 111 181 109 109 111, 116 124 111 109 111 292 109 199 53 45 109 278 109 111

Mark 1:16-8. 9:2-8. 10:19.

292 292 199

Luke 1:1-4 1:5-25 2:30 9:28-36 10:21 13:33 16:16-18 17:25 18:20 22:37 24:31

154 195 278 292 124 186 216 186 199 186 186

John 5:24

259

Acts 1:6 1:11-12 1:21-2 2:5-12 2:23 2:46 3:1-10 3:1-26 3:17 5:12 5:36 5:37 5:42 7:53 8:3 9:1-2 9:1-19 9:4 9:5 9:10-19 9:15 9:17 9:26-31 10 10:1-33 11:1-18 11:27-30 13:9 13:16-25 13:16-41 13:27 13:31 13:46 13:47 14:4 14:12 14:14 15

15:1-2 15-16 15:1 15:1-39 15:5 15:6-21 15:7-9 15:19-31 15:21 15:22 15:29 16:1-2 16:1-3

195 195 152–3 196 185 195 195 154 184–5 195 153 153 195 199 184, 187 184, 187 175 186 184 175 176, 188, 287 186 195 181 175 182 195 186 175 175 185 152, 153 188 17 152 154 152 153, 181–2, 189, 192, 200, 213 195 194 181 114 213 175 182 196 127, 200 194 127 89, 176 187

16:1-5 16:3 16:4 16:37-9 17:1 17:20 17:17 17:24 17:30 17:30-1 17:31 17:32 18:4 18:12-3 18:12-7 18:13 18:18 18:19 18:22 18:26 19:8 20:16 21 21-6 21-8 21:39 21:17 21:17-26 21:20 21:21 21:21-6 21:24 21:25 21:26 21:27 21:27-8 21:28 22:1-5 22:2-3 22:3 22:3-16 22:5 22:7 22:13 22:14-15 22:15 22:17-21 22:21 23:1 23:3

85 182, 197 194, 196, 200 158 182 182 182 40 184 173 175 187 182 194 159, 225 197 194 182 195 182 182 182, 196 182, 192 170 169 158, 187 114 192–8, 200–1 182, 193, 199 170, 182, 196–7, 200–1 175, 189 182, 193, 195–6, 199, 200 127, 194, 196, 200 195, 199, 200 170 196 170 157, 159 183 161, 171, 173, 187, 298 183 158 186 186 188 174 195 176 171 171

Index of Texts 23:5 23:6 23:16 23:29 24:5 24:5-6 24:14 24:14-15 24:15 24:16 24:17 24:18 24:21 25:7-8 25:8 26:3 26:4 26:4-5 26:6 26:6-7 26:9-18 26:10 26:14 26:16 26:17-18 26:22-3 26:23 27:9 28:17 28:18-20 Romans 1-2 1:1 1:3 1:5 1:10-13 1:13-15 1:16 1:17 1:18 1:18-32 1:29-32 2 2:11 2:12 2:13 2:14 2:26 2:27 3 3:8

171 171, 176, 187, 198–9 160 171 187 171 171, 198 171–2, 187 176 198 196 174 187 176 171, 198 183 160 171 173, 175 187 183 184 186 188 174, 188 171, 187 176 182 171, 176, 198 182

225 152 143 16, 89, 245 114 16 111, 188, 242, 276 270, 274–7 276, 281 15–16, 19 308 83, 91 237 37, 237 237 15 198–9 15 280 245

3:9 3:15 3:21-6 3:24 3:25 3:27-8 3:28 3:28-9 3:30 3:31 4:1-2 4:1-5 4:1-25 4:3 4:4-21 4:6 4:9-12 4:12 4:18-22 4:20 5:1-11 5:6 5:9 5:9-10 6 6:2 6:3 6:4 6:5 6:9 6:10 6:12 6:15 7 7:6 7:6-11 7:23 8:12 8:17 8:29 9:1-4 9:1-5 9:25-6 9:26 10:1 10:2-3 10:2-4 10:4 10:5 10:9-10 10:9-13 10:12 11:1

225 280 281 281 270, 277, 279–81 239 238 239 238 244 238–9 309 305 238–9 239 238 309 200 245 239 243, 277 245 280 243 281 282 282 282 282 282 270, 281–2 282 245 91 282 245 238 217 37 141 18 217 36 92 217 17 217 111 217 111 243 108 108

323 11:13 11:32 11:33-6 11:13 11:26 13:1-7 13:2 14-15 14:1 14:1-3 14:1-12 14:1-15:13 14:2 14:10 14:13 14:15 15:1 15:1-6 15:7 15:8-12 15:12 15:16 15:18 15:22-4 15:26 15:27 16:26 18:18-22

89 217 85 16 243 45, 54, 311 245 260, 262 260 260 84 95 128 260 260 260 100, 260 307 260 143 260 16, 111 16, 89 114 260 260 245 141

1 Corinthians 1-4 1:10 1:11 1:17-25 1:18 1:21 1:29 1:31 2:4 2:6-8 2:14 3:3 3:9-17 3:18 3:21 4:6 4:9 4:16 4:19 5:1-8 5:2 5:3 5:3-4 5:5

307 307 307 307 243 213 307 307 307 45, 53–4 239 239, 307 26 239 307 307 213 307 307 96 307 98 98 243

324 5:6 5:7 5:8 5:9-15 5:10 5:14 5:16 6:9-10 6:12 6:15 6:16-17 7 7:3-4 7:5 7:8 7:9 7:10 7:15 7:17-24 7:16 8-10 8:1 8:4-6 8:10-11 9:9. 9:15-16 9:20-2 10:17 10:18 10:20-1 10:23 11:3-16 11:16 11:18 11:19 11:25 11:27-31 12 12-14 12:12-17 12:3 12:4-11 12:13 12:20-5 12:28 12:28-31 13 13:4 13:5 13:6 13:7 13:10 14:33 14:33-6

Index of Texts 307 141 98 96 97 97 96, 98 14 245 307 307 95, 135, 139 307 98 96, 97 98 307 307 197, 307 243 95, 134–5, 140 307 85 307 94 307 216 307 295 128 245 307 239 307 307 280 84 307 302 307 111 307 108 307 307 307 307 307–8 307–8 308 308 308 239 307

14:34-6 14:37 14:40 15 15:2 15:3-8 15:6 15:9 15: 20 15:22-8 15:25 15:28 16:16

94 239 307 307 243 114 281 186 85 307 141 307 307

2 Corinthians 1:1 1:23 2:15 3:3 3:14 4:4 5:17 5:18 6:16 10:10 10:18 11:13-14 11:14 11:16 11:22 11:30 12:1-4 12:2-7 12:11

225 157 243 92 213 213 225 85 141 88, 153 287 213 213 88 108, 298 88 213 213 88

Galatians 1-2 1:1 1:6 1:7-9 1:8 1:11 1:12 1:12-17 1:13 1:13-14 1:14 1:15 1:15-16 1:1. 1:17-18 1:18-20 1:21 2

216 213 211 213 213 213 142 111 186 108, 213, 216 161, 298 253 188 89, 253 113 114 113 153, 213, 217

2:1 2:1-10 2:3 2:4 2:7-9 2:9 2:10 2:11-14 2:13-14 2:14 2:15 2:15-21 2:16 2:24-6 3 3:11 3:10 3:13 3:16 3:19 3:20 3:22 3:23-25 3:28 4:2 4:2-3 4:3 4:7 4:8 4:8-11 4:9 4:11 4:26 5:2 5:2-4 5:13 5:16-26 5:25 6:12 6:13

113 114 261 211, 249 197 89, 261 98, 100 110, 114 217 211, 261 15, 17 84 238 249 91 270, 274 254 254 261 261 238 238 111 108 81 80 79, 81 89 80, 213 83 81 83 141 197 261 245 84 200 261 198–9, 261

Ephesians 1:1 1:2 1:2-4:8 1:3-9 1:4 1:6 1:5-6 1:7 1:9-10 1:10 1:11-14 1:12

47 50 70 48, 71 35 35 22 22 35 49 28 76

Index of Texts 1:12-13 1:13 1:15 1:15-19 1:15-20 1:17 1:18 1:18-19 1:21 1:20-23 1:26 2:1-2 2:1-22 2:2 2:3 2:4-6 2:5 2:5-6 2:6 2:6-15 2:7-8 2:8 2:8-9 2:8-10 2:10 2:11 2:11-13 2:11-14 2:11-3:2 2:12 2:12-14 2:13 2:13-16 2:14 2:15 2:14 2:16 2:17 2:18 2:19 2:20 2:20-2 2:21 3:1-6 3:1-8 3:2 3:8 3:10 3:1-13 3:6 3:7 3:8-10 3:9-10 3:10

35 22, 29 30 48 70 36 30 29 28 26, 48, 243 71 17 49 49, 71 17 28 243 53, 243 49, 53 79 16 78, 243, 309 244 246 70 16, 30-3, 37 28, 33 31 31 37, 70 17-19 22 37 36, 50 33, 50, 244 21, 28 78 50 80 21, 29, 30, 53 38, 78 27 21-2 26 16 76 70 53 49 29, 35, 37, 40 70 53 49 70

3:12 3:12-17 3:14-21 3:15 3:16 3:17 3:17-5:20 3:18-4:1 3:20 4:1 4:2 4:3 4:4 4:5 4:10 4:12 4:13-15 4:14-16 4:16 4:17-19 4:18 4:20 4:22-4 4:25-6 4:30 4:3-6 5:21 6:1 6:9 6:10 6:11-13 6:12 6:15 6:16 6:23

71 70 49 71 71 71, 84 49 71, 84 76 246 71 50, 71 71 309 71 39 28 39 71 18, 39 72, 184 39 37 40 22 38 49 309 247 49 50 26 50 28 50, 309

Philippians 2 2:5-8 2:5-11 2:8 2:12 2:12-13 3:2-3 3:4-8 3:5 3:6 3:8-9 3:9 3:10-11 3:20

84 217 46 243 231 243 187 187 108, 186, 298 186 244 238 243 141

Colossians 1:2

70

325 1:4 1:7 1:8 1:9 1:11 1:12 1:13 1:14 1:15-20 1:16 1:17-18 1:21 1:22 1:23 1:24 1:24-2:5 1:26 1:27 2:1 2:2 2:3 2:4 2:5 2:6-15 2:8 2:9 2:9-10 2:10-14 2:12 2:13 2:13-15 2:14 2:14-15 2:15 2:16 2:16-17 2:16-18 2:18 2:18-23 2:19 2:20 2:20-3:17 2:21 2:22 2:23 3:1-4 3:1-11 3:2 3:5 3:5-17 3:7 3:11 3:18-4:1

65–6, 70 66 66, 70 66 66 60, 66, 69–70 66 66 84 85 67 67, 69 67, 77 67 67 66 67 67, 69 66, 68 68 68 68 68 68 68, 79, 81, 83 68 83 60 84 17 66 77 83 68–9 69, 83 83 69 69, 77 67 69 77 84 77 69 69 84 69, 70 60 60 84 17 108 84

326 4:13 4:15f.

Index of Texts 66 66

1 Thessalonians 1:9 92 4 156 4:3-5 14 2 Thessalonians 1:7-2:12 141 1 Timothy 1:2 1:3 1:4 1:5 1:7 1:8 1:10 1:11 1:12-17 1:13 1:17 2:1-2 2:2 2:4 2:5 2:7 2:10 2:11-12 3:9 3:15 4:1 4:1-5 4:6 4:10 4:13 4:17 5:3-16 5:10 5:25 6:2 6:15 6:15-16 6:17-18 6:18 6:20

89 89, 90 90, 256 91 90–1 91 245 91 184 184 91 311 93 245 92 17, 89 245 94 245 92 245 95 245 92 93 17 95, 102 245 245 247 91 92 247 245 90, 256

2 Timothy 1:8-9 1:13-14 2:2 2:21 3:14-16

235, 244 246 246 245–6 246

3:16 3:17 4:1-2 4:3 4:17

289 245–6 246 245 17

Titus 1:5 1:9 1:10 1:14 1:16 2:1 2:7 3:1-14 3:4-5 3:5 3:5-8

88 245 90 90 245 245 245 245 235 244 246

Hebrews 1-2 1:3-13 2:1-4 3:1 4:15 5:1 6:10 6:20 7:26 7:27 7:27-8 7:28 8:1-10:18 8:5 8:37 9:5 9:11 9:11-12 9:12 9:26-8 10:1 10:1-10 10:10 10:27 10:32-6 10:37-8 10:38 10:38-9 10:39 11:1 11:6 11:8-12 13 13:18-21

270 276 268, 272–3 273 283 283 281 276 283 281 283 283 279, 281 276 277 270, 277, 279 283 283 281 270 283 283 281, 283 275 275 270, 27–5 274, 275–6 275 276 276 308 305 270 267

13:20 13:22-5 13:23 13:23-24

276 267 268 267

James 1:1 1:2 1:3-4 1:5 1:9-11 1:10-11 1:13 1:13-16 1:17 1:18 1:18-21 1:21 1:22-25 1:22 1:22-5 1:25 1:26 1:26-7 2:1 2:1-7 2:1-8 2:8 2:8-10 2:12 2:14 2:14-16 2:14-18 2:15-16 2:18 2:18-19 2:19 2:20 2:20-2 2:21 2:21-3 2:22 2:23 2:24 2:24 2:26 3:13 3:13-18 3:15 3:15-16 3:16 3:17 4:1 4:1-2

240 240 240 249 247 240 249 249 247, 249 240 249 240 237, 243 243 249 243, 249 239 247 237, 245, 247 247 247 247 245 237, 243, 249 242, 247 245-7 239, 245 247 238 246 238–9, 247, 249 238 239 238, 310 305 245 238, 305 238–9, 245, 310 238, 248 238 240 249 247 239, 247 247 247 238 240

Index of Texts 4:1-2 4:1-14 4:4 4:6 4:7 4:10 4:11 4:13-17 5:1-6 5:17-18 5:20

247 247 247 240 240 240 243 247 247 249 240

1 Peter 1:1 1:2 1:3 1:3-4 1:6 1:7-9 1:14 1:17 1:22 1:23 1:24 2:1 2:1-3 2:9 2:9-10 2:11 2:12 2:12-15 2:17 3:8 3:15 3:15-16 4:8 4:17 5:5 5:6 5:8-9 5:9 5:12

240 296 296 296 240 240 296 296 294 240, 296 240 240 296 297 296 240 50, 240 47 296 294, 296 297 225 240 296 240 240 240 296 296

2 Peter 1:1 1:3 1:4 1:5-7 1:7 1:8 1:10 1:11 1:14 1:16

1:16-21 1:19-21 1:21 2:1 2:1-16 2:20 3:1 3:1-2 3:10-13 3:14 3:15

Sirach 44:21

246

1 Maccabees 2:52 3:49 5:32 12:3

246 194 305 377

2 Maccabees 2:1-15 6:1

289 259

3:16 3:18

293 290, 293 290 293, 295 295 292 292, 297 295 288 294 287–9, 291–2, 294, 297–8 115, 287–9, 291, 297 288–90 292

4 Maccabees 17:21-2 17:22

279 280

1 John 3:14

259

1 Enoch 9:4 12:3 25:3 25:7 27:3 84:2

91 91 91 91 91 91

Jubilees 17:18

246

3:15-16

288, 291–3 294 81 294 294 292 294 292 292 292

327

Jude 1:5

293

Revelation 1:5 2-3 2:6 2:8-11 2:9 2:14 2:14-20 2:15 2:20 2:20-4 3:7-13 3:9. 3:12 5:6 7:4 11:1-2 11:5 19:11 19:15 21:1 21:10 22:1-5

141 135–6 135 134 134, 136–7 135, 139 131 135 139 135 134 134 136–7 141 141 141 141 138 141 141 141 141 141

Tobit 1:9 4:12 5:13 8:7 12:19 13:7 13:11

139 138–9 186 139 186 91 91

Letter of Aristeas Ep. Arist. 30–32 Ep. Arist. 312–13 Testament of Job 9:5 99 10:2 99 13:4 99 14:2 99 45:2 100 53:5 99 Testament of Solomon 8:2 81 18:2 81 Ascension of Isaiah 7:3 186 Damascus Document 14:12-16 100 1QpHab 8:2-3

275

289 289

328 Philo Leg. Gai. 21:143-51 Migr. Abr. 139 Omn. Prob. Lib. 82 Somn. 2:127 Spec. Leg. 1:310 Vit. Cont. 3 Josephus Ant. 4:240 Ant. 7:281 Ant. 14:228 Ant. 16:38 Ant.16:40 Ant.16:182 Ant.18:4 Ant.20:97 Ant.20:189-196 Ant.20:252-258 Apion 2 Apion 2:190 Apion 2:190-193 Apion 2:190-219 Apion 2:196 Apion 2:198 Apion 2:203 Apion 2:207-8 Apion 2:209-10 Apion 2:210 Apion 2:215-18 Apion 2:217-19 Apion 2: 218-19 Apion 2:38-9 Life 149 Life 191 Life 16 War 1:173 War 2:42-3 War 2:363 War 2:454 War 3:374 War 3:381 War 7:158-62 War 7:344-350 War 7:100-15 m. Avot 1:16

Index of Texts

46 259 93 93 96 81

101 231 158 51 51 278 173 153 224 224 175 173 168, 172 167–9 168 174 172 168 168 174 168 168 173 158 259 160 224 231 196 50 259 172 259 48 172 47

162

t. Kallah 9:4, 32a–b

161

b. Sanhedrin 56a-b

160

b. ‘Abodah Zarah 64b

160

Genesis Rabba 1.6

160

1 Clement 1.1 1.3 3.2 4.1-6.3 4.1-39.9 5.7 6.3 9.1 10.1 10.1-7 10.7 11.1 12.1 13:4 13:5 13:6 13:7 14.2 17.2 17.1-18.17 18.1-17 20 20.1-12 21.6-8 23.4 24.1-5 27.1-6 30.3 30.8 31.1-3 31.2 32.4 33.3-8 35.5 35.5-6 37.1-5 37.5 37.5-38.1 38.1-2 38.2 39.1-61.3 40-44 40.1-61.3 40.2-41.3 40.4 41.2 42.5

310 303 304 304 303 17 305 305 305 309 305 305 305 308 308 308 308 302 305, 309 305 305 309 303 303 303 303 303 303 305 305 309–10 310 303 308 308 303 307 307 307 307 305 306 303–4 306 306 306 306

46.6-7 47.1 47.1-4 49.1-6 49.5 60.1 61.1 65.1

303 301 307 307 308 303 311 303

Didache 6:1-3

185

Ignatius Magn. 10.3

259

Acts of Paul 11.3

17

Epistles of Paul and Seneca 1

224, 226, 229

1-9. 2 3 4

221 226–7, 230–1 223, 227 231

5

224, 226

6

230–1

7

223, 225–6, 229 223, 225–6 223, 226

8 9 10 10-14 11 12 13 14 95.47

221, 224, 230 221 220, 222–3, 227, 228, 230, 232 221 221, 229 220–3, 227–30 222

Pseudo-Clementine Homilies H 1.22.5 Homilies H 7.8.1 Homilies H 8.6.1-7.2 Homilies H 11.28.1 Homilies H 12.6.4 Homilies H 13.4.3-4

126 126 123 127 128 126

Index of Texts Recog. R I 19.5 Recog. R IV 5.5-8 Recog. R IV 36.4 Recog. R VI 10.5 Recog. R VII 6.4 Recog. R VII 29.3-4

126 122 127 127 126 126

Adamantius Dial. 806b-808e Dial. 828c-d

287 287

Dial. 8.3 Dial. 18 Dial. 18.1 Dial. 19.1 Dial. 32.2 Dial. 35 Dial. 46-7 Dial. 47

Dial. 47.1 Augustine CD 6.10–11 De de et operibus 21–6 Ep. 153, ad Macedonium

222 250 223

Dial. 47.2 Dial. 47.3

Didymus Comm. Job (pap. + cat.) 368.11 231

Dial. 47.4 Dial. 56.16 Dial. 68.1 Dial. 123.1

Epiphanius Adv. Haer. 38.2 Pan. Haer. 30.15.1 Pan.Haer. 30.16.8 Pan.Haer. 30.25.1 Pan.Haer. 30.25.4 Pan.Haer. 30.25.6

Lactantius Inst. 6.24.14

Eusebius Chron. §210 Hist. eccl. 3.19.15-16 Hist. eccl. 2.23 Hist. eccl. 2.23.4-6 Irenaeus Adv. Haer. I.27 Adv. Haer. 1.27.2 Adv. Haer. III.7.1–2 Adv. Haer. III.12.12 Adv. Haer. III.12.14– 13.3 Adv. Haer. III.13.1 Adv. Haer. IV.6.2 Jerome Vir. ill. 12. John Chrysostom Hom. VI, 247-8 Justin Martyr 1 Apol. 26.5 1 Apol. 58.1-2

163 120 297 297 298 298

66 108 249 194

211 228 213 211 213 211 257

221

79

210, 228 210

Minucius Felix Oct. 31.8 Origen Comm. Jn. 20.10.66 Comm. Rom. 2.9 Comm. Rom. 4.1 Comm. Rom. 4.8 Hom. Jer. 1.3 Tertullian Adv. Herm. 20.4 Adv. Herm. 22.3 Adv. Marc. I.6 Adv. Marc. I.19.2 Adv. Marc. I.15.1 Adv. Marc. I.19.4 Adv. Marc. I.20 Adv. Marc. I.20.3 Adv. Marc. I.21.5 Adv. Marc. II.5 Adv. Marc. II.21 Adv. Marc. II.23-24 Adv. Marc. III.22.3 Adv. Marc. III.6.10 Adv. Marc. III.22.3 Adv. Marc. III.7 Adv. Marc. IV Adv. Marc. IV.6.3 Adv. Marc. IV.33.6-9

259 254 262 259 262 254 181 189, 253–4, 258–60 258–9, 261 259–61, 263 258–9, 261 258–61 262 262 259

329 Adv. Marc. IV.33.8 Adv. Marc. V.1.3 Adv.Marc. V.1.5–6 Adv. Marc. V.1.8

217 213 217 210–11, 216 Adv. Marc. V.2.1 216 Adv. Marc. V.2.2 215 Adv. Marc. V.2.3 215 Adv. Marc. V.2.8 216 Adv. Marc. 5:3 249 Adv. Marc. V.5.1 216 Adv. Marc. V.11.9–13 213 Adv. Marc. V.14.6–8 217 An. 20 223 Apol. 39 294 Corona 11.1 215 Pudic. 12.1 215 Orat. 1.1 215 Virg. 1.10 215 Aelius Aristides Orat. 23–24

303

Aristotle Hist. Anim. IX 40.627a

62

Celsus Cels. 3.12 Cels. 5.59 Cels. 5.61

228 228 228

Diodorus Sic. 14.104.2

231

Diogenes Laërtius VIII. 24 VIII. 27 VIII. 28 VIII. 32 VIII. 34

76 77 77 77 77

223

294

250 250 250 250 231

215 215 214 214 213 211 211 216 211 214 214 214 215–16 217 217 218 228 211, 214, 216 216

Dio Chrysostom (Prusa) Orat. 38–41 303 Troj. 11.121 279 Herodotus I, 131

81

Lucian Peregr. 13

294

Plato Rep. VII 415 a 2-517 a 7 75

330

Index of Texts

Plutarch Precepts of Statecra [Mor. 814F–815B] 303 Precepts of Statecra [Mor. 824A–C] 303 Polybius Hist. 12.4.4-5

156

Tacitus Agric. 21 Agric. 30-31 Ann. 14.27 Ann. 15.44 Ann. 16.11.1 Hist. 1.58.71

52 52 66 221 224 158

Vergil Aen. I 430-40 Georg. IV 156-68

62 62