Galatians and the Imperial Cult: a Critical Analysis of the First-century Social Context of Paul's Letter (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen Zum Neuen Testament 2) 3161495632, 9783161495632

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Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament · 2. Reihe Herausgeber / Editor Jörg Frey (München) Mitherausgeber / Associate Editors Friedrich Avemarie (Marburg) Judith Gundry-Volf (New Haven, CT) Hans-Josef Klauck (Chicago, IL)

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Justin K. Hardin

Galatians and the Imperial Cult A Critical Analysis of the First-Century Social Context of Paul’s Letter

Mohr Siebeck

Justin K. Hardin, born 1976; 2006 Ph.D. at the University of Cambridge; 2004–2005 he taught New Testament Greek at Cambridge; since fall 2005 R. Strickland Assistant Professor of Religion at Oklahoma Baptist University (OBU), USA.

e-ISBN PDF 978-3-16-151580-4 ISBN 978-3-16-149563-2 ISSN 0340-9570 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, 2. Reihe) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data is available in the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de. © 2008 by Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen, Germany. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was printed by Gulde-Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Held in Rottenburg. Printed in Germany.

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Preface This monograph is a slightly revised version of my Ph.D. thesis, which was submitted on 17 March 2006 to the Faculty of Divinity of Cambridge University. I would like first to express my deep gratitude to my supervisor Professor Graham N. Stanton for his able guidance during my years in Cambridge. His wonderful method of supervising allowed me to roam freely, but without allowing me to lose my way. He truly exemplifies what it means to be a scholar, a teacher, and a mentor; and I continue to draw upon his example in my own research and teaching. I am also very grateful to my examiners, Professor J. M. G. Barclay and Dr Justin Meggitt, for their very helpful comments and suggestions. I also want to express my appreciation to the editor of this series, Prof Dr Jörg Frey, for accepting this thesis for publication, and to Dr Henning Ziebritzki and his excellent editorial staff for their able assistance as I formatted the manuscript for publication. To all these above, I am very grateful. Of course, any remaining blunders in this thesis are wholly my own. John Donne’s words, though now so familiar as to seem trite, nevertheless ring true: ‘No man is an island of itself’ (Meditation XVII). I am greatly indebted to a number of people who have shown me continual love and support. Without them, the completion of this project would not have been possible. I am grateful for the Grantchester Meadows reading group, led by Professor Markus N. A. Bockmuehl, which allowed several of us Ph.D. students to pursue academic interests outside our narrow fields of study. I also thank many other teachers who have challenged me throughout the years and have been worthy of imitation, such as Professors Gerald Bray, J. Scott Duvall, Ken Mathews, and Frank Thielman. I also thank the staff and readers affiliated with Tyndale House, Cambridge, especially the former Warden, Dr Bruce Winter, who made our stay at Tyndale House possible and whose family continues to mean very much to us. I also thank Drs Peter Head, Elizabeth Magba, and David Instone-Brewer, along with the many Tyndale readers who made our time in Cambridge a pleasant one. The Round Church at St Andrew the Great in Cambridge and now University Baptist Church in Shawnee have also been an enormous source of encouragement. I am thankful to God for blessing me with so many wonderful friends, far too many to name here. Nevertheless, I must mention some who have been especially encouraging over the years. Jill and I will always cherish our

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friendship with Dave and Renée Morlan, with Tom and Pip Stace (our first friends in Cambridge), and with John and Alysia Yates (our first friends with children). Dr Joel Willitts, as my desk mate in the Tyndale House library, read much more of my work than he would ever care to admit. Rabbinic tradition instructs one to acquire an associate in the study of the Scriptures (Avot 1.6). Joel has been mine. Of course, I must not forget to mention my other Ph.D. companions, Drs Wayne Coppins, Joel Lawrence, David Rudolph, and Todd Wilson. I also must mention the members of the Clique (Cory Goode, Chuck Stokes, and James Taylor), who, since our seminary days, continue to be such a supportive band of brothers. And I continue to be encouraged with friends and colleagues here in Shawnee, especially Drs Bobby Kelly and Kevin Hall, who have been such great friends and mentors in my first two years of teaching. The Lord provides in many ways, and I am grateful to various people and institutions that helped to support us financially during our time in Cambridge. I would like to thank the Faculty of Divinity for the Peregrine Maitland Award (2004–5), which funded most of our final year in Cambridge, and for the Bethune-Baker Fund that enabled me to attend scholarly conferences both here and in the USA. I am also grateful for the generous awards I received from the University and from St. Edmund’s College. The greatest financial thanks is due, however, to my parents, who continually sacrificed far beyond what any parent should in order that I could get an education. Thank you, Mom and Dad! And to the best in-laws ever, thanks for your continual love and support. During the course of this project, Jill and I managed to double the size of our household with two boys. Now at the close, we eagerly await the birth of Annie, who already has her daddy wrapped around her little finger. Ethan and Drew, I cherish with great joy the daily reminders from you that there is much more to life than work. There are bear hunts on which to go, silly songs to sing, and exhilarating Bible stories to animate. I love you both so much. My final and greatest thanks are due to my wonderful wife, who has shown much more love and patience to me over the past nine years than I deserve. Jill, you are by far the best thing that has ever happened to me. It is to you that I dedicate this book. Without your enduring love, it would never have seen the light of day. Soli Deo Gloria! Shawnee, 15 October 2007

Justin K Hardin

Table of Contents Preface ................................................................................................................................... V Table of Contents............................................................................................................. VII List of Figures .....................................................................................................................XI Abbreviations ................................................................................................................... XIII Chapter 1. Galatians in Its Social and Religious Context....................................... 1 Introduction.......................................................................................................................... 1 A. Recipient-Oriented Studies in Galatians ......................................................................... 5 1. Galatians in Its Anatolian Religious Context ............................................................. 5 2. Galatians in Its Imperial Cultic Context................................................................... 12 B. Aims of the Present Study............................................................................................. 16 C. Method of the Present Study ......................................................................................... 17 D. Procedure ...................................................................................................................... 19

Part I The Imperial Cult in the Roman Empire and in Galatia Chapter 2. Imperial Cult and Ideology in the Julio-Claudian Period ................ 23 Introduction........................................................................................................................ 23 A. The Rise and Proliferation of the Imperial Cult ............................................................ 26 1. Augustus: Benefactor and Saviour ........................................................................... 26 2. Civic Space and Leisure........................................................................................... 30 3. Temporal Space: New Calendars and the Golden Age ............................................ 32 4. Augustus and His Successors................................................................................... 38 B. Reception of the Imperial Cult and Ideology ................................................................ 40 1. The Imperial Cult and Pagan Religion ..................................................................... 40 2. Civic Patronage and Competition............................................................................. 42 3. Civic Responsibilities and Obligations .................................................................... 42 Conclusions........................................................................................................................ 47

Chapter 3. Imperial Cult and Ideology in Galatia ................................................... 49 Introduction........................................................................................................................ 49 A. The Creation of a Roman Province............................................................................... 50 1. Creating Colonies and Cities.................................................................................... 52 2. Linking the Colonies the ‘Augustan Way’ ............................................................... 54 3. Tranquillising the Taurus ......................................................................................... 55

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B. Reception of Imperial Ideology..................................................................................... 57 1. Urbanising the Colonies: Pisidian Antioch as a Test Case....................................... 58 2. (Re-)Founding Galatia: Claudius and His Legate .................................................... 64 C. Reception of the Imperial Cult ...................................................................................... 66 1. The North: Ancyra and Pessinus .............................................................................. 68 2. The South: Pisidian Antioch .................................................................................... 71 Conclusions........................................................................................................................ 79

Part II Galatians and the Imperial Cult? Chapter 4. Avoiding Persecution and the Imperial Cult (Gal 6.12–13)? ......... 85 Introduction........................................................................................................................ 85 A. The Motives of the Agitators in Gal 6.12–13................................................................ 86 1. Securing a ‘Good Status’ in the Flesh ...................................................................... 86 2. Securing a ‘Good Status’ and the Imperial Cult....................................................... 90 B. The Agitators in Gal 6.12–13: Local Jewish Jesus-Believers?...................................... 92 C. Paul’s Accusations in Gal 6.12–13: Are They Reliable? .............................................. 94 1. Paul versus the Agitators in Gal 6.12–17 and in Galatians ...................................... 97 2. Persecution in Gal 6.12–17 and in Galatians.......................................................... 101 D. Avoiding Persecution and the Imperial Cult? ............................................................. 102 1. Jewish Rights and the Imperial Cult....................................................................... 102 2. Implications for the Imperial Cult Hypothesis ....................................................... 110 Conclusions...................................................................................................................... 114

Chapter 5. ‘Days, Months, Seasons, Years’ and the Imperial Cult (Gal 4.10)? ................................................................................................. 116 Introduction...................................................................................................................... 116 A. Gal 4.10 in Interpretation ............................................................................................ 117 1. Gal 4.10 as Jewish Calendar Observances ............................................................. 118 2. Gal 4.10 as a Reference to the Imperial Cult.......................................................... 122 B. Gal 4.8–10 and the Galatian Letter ............................................................................. 127 1. Gal 4.8–10 within the Argument of Gal 4.1–11 ..................................................... 132 2. Gal 4.8–10 and Its Wider Context in Galatians...................................................... 138 C. Gal 4.8–10 and the Social Setting of Galatians........................................................... 142 Conclusions...................................................................................................................... 146

Chapter 6. Conclusions ................................................................................................. 148 Introduction...................................................................................................................... 148 A. Galatians and the Imperial Cult?................................................................................. 149 B. Reflections on Galatians and Pauline Theology.......................................................... 151 1. Who Were the Agitators? ....................................................................................... 152 2. Is Suffering a Neglected Theme in Galatians? ....................................................... 152 3. What Was Paul’s Attitude to the Jewish Calendar? ............................................... 153 4. Galatians: The End of Heilsgeschichte?................................................................. 153 5. Paul’s Cosmology and Imperial Ideology .............................................................. 154 6. The Imperial Cult and the NT?............................................................................... 155

Table of Contents

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Bibliography...................................................................................................................... 157 Index of Ancient Sources .............................................................................................. 177 Index of Modern Authors .............................................................................................. 185 Index of Subjects ............................................................................................................. 189

List of Figures

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List of Figures Figure 1. Map of South Galatia and the via Sebaste at 6 B.C. ............................................... 55 (Adapted from Mitchell 1993:II.map 6) Figure 2. Photograph of the Aqueduct of Pisidian Antioch .................................................. 60 (Kelsey Archive 7.1224. Courtesy of the Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, University of Michigan) Figure 3. Claudian Coin Showing the Galatian Legate M. Annius Afrinius ........................ 66 (RPC 3543 © Copyright the Trustees of The British Museum) Figure 4. Photograph of the Tiberia platea leading to the Propylon in Pisidian Antioch ..... 72 (Kelsey Archive 7.1113. Courtesy of the Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, University of Michigan) Figure 5. Drawing of the Augustus Temple in Pisidian Antioch .......................................... 75 (Woodbridge, from Mitchell 1998:138, Courtesy of Professor S. Mitchell) Figure 6. Map of the Imperial Cult in Galatia....................................................................... 80 (Adapted from Mitchell 1993:II.map 6)

Abbreviations

XIII

Abbreviations Abbreviations and citation conventions for ancient literature and modern scholarship follow OCD3 (2003), SBL (1999), and IATG2 (1992) wherever possible. In addition, the following abbreviations are used, with full bibliographical details in the Bibliography: Ael. Arist. To Rome J. H. Oliver, The Ruling Power: A Study of the Roman Empire in the Second Century After Christ Through the Roman Oration of Aelius Aristides ABD D. N. Freedman (ed.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary ANRW H. Temporini and W. Haase (eds.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt: Geschicht und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung At. Athenaeum: Studi Periodici di Letteratura e Storia dell’ Antichità Beard M. Beard, J. North, and S. R. F. Price, Religions of Rome (2 vols) BMC + Emperor Coins of the Roman Empire in the British Museum (vol 1) BMC + Province A Catalogue of the Greek Coins in the British Museum (29 vols) Braund D. C. Braund, Augustus to Nero: 31 BC – AD 68: A Sourcebook on Roman History Brunt/Moore Augustus, Res Gestae Divi Augusti, edited by P. A. Brunt and J. M. Moore CAH2 A. K. Bowman (ed.), The Cambridge Ancient History: the Augustan Empire, 43 B.C. – A.D. 69 (2d ed.) CIL Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum CPJ Corpus Papyrorum Judaicarum EJ V. Ehrenberg and A. H. M. Jones, Documents Illustrating the Reigns of Augustus and Tiberius FIRA Fontes iuris Romani antiqui: leges et negotis FrGH F. Jacoby, Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker S. Schwertner (ed.), Internationales Abkürzungsverzeichnis für TheIATG2 ologie und Grenzgebiete (2d ed.) IG Inscriptiones Graecae IGRR Inscriptiones Graecae ad res Romanas pertinentes ILS Inscriptiones Latinae Selectai I.Ephesos Die Inschriften von Ephesos I.Italiae Inscriptiones Italiae I.Olympia Die Inschriften von Olympia Johnson A. C. Johnson, et al., Ancient Roman Statutes. JRASup Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series Kent J. H. Kent, Corinth: the Inscriptions 1926-1950 Krzyzanowska A. Krzyzanowska, Monnaies coloniales d’Antioche de Pisidie

XIV LCL LR2

Abbreviations

Loeb Classical Library N. Lewis and M. Reinhold (eds.), Roman Civilization: Sourcebook II: the Empire (2d ed.) MAMA Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua Mart. Ep. Martial, Epigrams, translated by D. R. Shackleton Bailey. Moretti L. Moretti, Iscrizioni agonistiche greche S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth (eds.), Oxford Classical Dictionary OCD3 (3d ed.) OMS Opera Minora Selecta: Épigraphie et Antiquités Grecques OGIS Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae E. Groag and A. Stein, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (2d ed.) PIR2 P.Oxy. The Oxyrhynchus Papyri P.Tebt. The Tebtunis Papyri RIC C. H. V. Sutherland (ed.), The Roman Imperial Coinage, Volume 1: From 31 BC to AD 69 (Rev. ed.) RPC Roman Provincial Coinage SBL P. H. Alexander et al. (eds.), The SBL Handbook of Style: for Ancient Near Eastern, Biblical, and Early Christian Studies SEG Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum (3d ed) SIG3 Sherk R. K. Sherk (ed.), Roman Documents from the Greek East: Senatus Consulta and Epistulae to the Age of Augustus Smallwood E. M. Smallwood, Documents Illustrating the Principates of Gaius, Claudius, and Nero SNTW Studies of the New Testament and Its World Stern M. Stern, Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism Tertullian De Idolol. J. H. Waszink, De Idololatria: Critical Text, Translation and Commentary Thasos II C. Dunant and J. Pouilloux (eds.), Recherches sur l’Histoire et Les Cultes de Thasos II von Aulock H. von Aulock, Münzen und Städte Lykaoniens Williams M. H. Williams (ed.), The Jews Among the Greeks and Romans: A Diasporan Sourcebook

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Chapter 1

Galatians in Its Social and Religious Context It is clear that our questions can only be solved through careful exegesis and historical reconstruction. – J. M. G. Barclay, Obeying the Truth, 26

Introduction Paul’s letter to the Galatians continues to be studied with virtually as much energy as Paul doubtless expended when it was first penned. Such zeal for this short letter is understandable for many reasons. For example, this letter provides a sketch of the very beginnings of the Christian movement. Indeed, approximately one-third of Galatians is devoted to a rehearsal of Paul’s early ministry (the so-called ‘dark years’), including the only autobiographical mention of his call/conversion. In this narrative, Paul even reveals something of his relationship with the Jerusalem church, not least when recalling his infamous squabble with Peter at Antioch. Naturally, then, scholars, especially since the time of F. C. Baur, have harvested this narrative for reconstructing both the chronology of Paul’s life and ministry and the development of his relationship with Jewish believers and with Judaism more generally.1 Others have sought to understand this narrative’s broader function within the letter.2 Furthermore, since the seminal essay of H. D. Betz on the rhetorical genre of Galatians, scholars have vigorously attempted to classify the letter in the light of the ancient rhetorical handbooks.3 Although few scholars would now defend Betz’s original position that Galatians corresponds to the judicial type, several rounds of discussions on this topic have transpired over the past three decades, with the objective of assigning Galatians to a specific rhetorical species, whether judicial, epideictic, or deliberative.4 ––––––––––––––––– 1 E.g., Bauckham 2005; Nanos 2002c; Taylor 2001; Donaldson 1994; Fredriksen 1991; Dunn 1983; Dunn 1982. 2 E.g. Gaventa 1986; Lyons 1985; see now Dodd 1996. 3 Betz 1975; Betz 1979:14–25. 4 For the forensic type, see, e.g., Betz 1975; Brinsmead 1982; for epideictic, see, e.g., Hester 2002; and for deliberative, see, e.g., Witherington 1998:25–41; Smit 1989; Hall 1987; Lyons 1985:119–20. For a survey and critique of rhetorical criticism in Galatians, see esp. Kern 1998. Kern’s study, in effect, has put a moratorium on the subject by questioning whether it is even possible to identify the structure of Galatians strictly in the light of the

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For other scholars, the key task in cracking the Galatians code has been to clarify the identity of the so-called agitators of Galatia, who are traditionally considered to be the implied dialogue partners in Paul’s letter. Scholars have continued to debate not only the agitators’ teaching via the delicate process of mirror reading, but also who they were, their place of origin, and for what party (if any) they were representatives.5 Indeed, even the most widely accepted beliefs among scholars regarding their identity (i.e. that they were nomistic Jewish believers from Jerusalem) have not been immune to serious attack. In the light of these discussions, a growing number of scholars are recognising that many such previous assumptions, like chess pieces after a hard fought match, need to be reset.6 Of course, much energy has bene expended on Galatians in an effort to grasp Paul’s complex theology, particularly his view of the Mosaic Law. Indeed, in Galatians, ‘comments on the Law burst upon the reader with such force that they are almost overwhelming’.7 Many scholars have nevertheless remained undaunted. There has been much fresh analysis here in recent years, especially in the wake of the new perspective on Paul, and the debate continues to surge forward.8 In all these endeavours, it is clear that pride of place in studies on Galatians has conventionally been awarded to Pauline matters, whether it be his ministry and chronology, his form of writing, his battle with opponents, or his view of the Mosaic Law. These steady winds, however, have recently begun to shift in new and refreshing directions. In his magisterial commentary on Galatians, J. L. Martyn signals this change of forecast at the outset of his project. According to Martyn, Paul’s letter can only be properly understood when we focus not on Paul in the first instance, but on the original readers. He therefore invites interpreters to take a seat among the Galatian audience in order to hear the letter, as it were, with ‘Galatian ears’. Only then, he argues, will we be in the best position to witness the various acts that have unfolded in the Galatian drama.9 ––––––––––––––––– Graeco-Roman handbooks on rhetoric. Although most scholars would continue to affirm that the rhetorical situation deserves attention, one must bear in mind that Galatians is not merely a rhetorical text, but a pastoral letter, thus sharing both rhetorical and epistolary features (see further the helpful essays of Nanos 2002b:323–31 and Fairweather 1994). 5 See, e.g., Tyson 1968; Barclay 1987; see now esp. Das 2003:17–29; Nanos 2002b:esp. 73–198; Sumney 1999. 6 See esp. Nanos 2002b:73–198 and the essays collected in Nanos 2002a. 7 Thielman 1994:119. 8 See, e.g., Silva 2004; Das 2003:17–48; Rapa 2001; Dunn 1997; Martyn 1995; Thielman 1994; Scott 1993; Wright 1991:137–74; Dunn 1991; Tomson 1990; Donaldson 1986. 9 Martyn 1997:42. Where I depart from Martyn, however, is with his application of this technique, since his ultimate aim is to hear the voices of the agitators (Martyn’s ‘Teachers’)

Introduction

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Martyn’s method, to be sure, seems natural enough. After all, the letter was not actually a direct response to the agitators, even if they were clearly the impetus for the readers’ defection from Paul’s gospel.10 Indeed, investigating the social and religious background of Paul’s readers in order to shed light on the nature of Paul’s argument is one of the fundamental tasks of historicalcritical exegesis. In contrast with other Pauline letters – the Corinthian and Thessalonian correspondences, the letter to the Philippians and to the Romans immediately come mind – however, the local social and religious setting of Galatians has largely remained neglected.11 One might therefore reasonably wonder why the inequity. This neglect has traditionally been due to the severe limitations of our knowledge of this region. Although Sir William Ramsay’s archaeological explorations at the turn of the twentieth century filled a vast lacuna in scholarship on central Anatolia, his research was largely incomplete and often hopelessly conjectural (as witnessed by how often he radically revised his own conclusions during his three decades on the field). Our inability to read Galatians against hard evidence in Galatia has therefore remained one of the fundamental assumptions among NT scholars, a view that Betz summarized well some three decades ago: There are no archaeological findings, no walls, no inscriptions, monuments, or any other historical records which could answer the question where exactly these churches were located, what the cultural and religious milieu was in which they existed, or what became of them after they had read Paul’s letter.12

Of course, as Betz suggested, the limited application of Graeco-Roman backgrounds in Galatians studies is also the result of the letter’s uncertain destination. Indeed, NT scholars have supposed that there must have been a world of difference between the largely Celtic inhabitants of ethnic Galatia and the provincial residents of the South. Because of the fierce debates regarding the destination of Paul’s letter, scholars were hesitant to utilize any external evidence in order to shed some light on the historical context of Galatians.13 To be sure, a handful of interpreters have sought to read Galatians against its social and religious setting. Ramsay, as is well known, utilised evidence from southern Galatia in order to bolster his claim that the letter was sent to the churches in the South as recorded in Acts 13–14.14 In spite of his insistence that we know little about the cultural and religious setting of Galatians, ––––––––––––––––– through mirror reading (see further Martyn 1985b). For some helpful guidelines on mirror reading, see the foundational essay of Barclay 1987. 10 Elliott 2003:3. 11 See, e.g., Ascough 2003; Wright 2002; Oakes 2001; Winter 2001; Reasoner 1999. 12 Betz 1974 (the German original is now reprinted in Betz 1994:46–62). 13 See Barclay 1988:45. 14 Ramsay 1900.

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Betz’s commentary on Galatians drips with references to Hellenistic backgrounds.15 R. Jewett and J. M. G. Barclay, among others, have discussed more generally the nature of Gentile religious and social factors that may have contributed to the Galatian crisis.16 Although they insist that one must take one’s bearings from the information within the letter, these scholars all recognize that some questions might well be answered by searching not only the text of Galatians, but also the social and religious setting of Paul’s readers. The landscape of Galatians scholarship now looks much different, although many have yet to appreciate the change of scenery. Fresh archaeological research in central Anatolia has been undertaken by B. Levick17 and now S. Mitchell.18 These scholars have advanced studies in this region considerably, providing a coherence that was found lacking in Ramsay’s often-provisional conclusions. Documentary texts from western Anatolia (i.e. west of Galatia) and dating to the Roman era, moreover, have been assembled and published.19 Unlike previous generations of Galatians studies, which confined any historical discussion of Galatia to the introductory matters of the destination of the letter, studies on the attention to the original readers of Galatians have begun to gather pace. B-L. Oh, whose 2001 King’s College, London, Ph.D. thesis represents this shift in scholarship, has rightly pointed out that ‘the traditional reading of the letter in the light of a hypothetical reconstructed Jewish background for the agitators tends to overlook the possibility that the Galatians’ own outlook and conduct might have been a contributing factor to the crisis Paul faces’.20 Thus, attending to the background of the Galatian readers may affect how we understand certain sections of the letter.21 What is more, turning our attention to Paul’s readers may yield fruit for grasping more precisely the nature of the crisis itself. It will be helpful, then, to assess the available external evidence, especially the archaeological data from Galatia, which may help us to understand this complex letter. Our task is thus to determine to what extent we might turn beyond the text of Galatians in order to ascertain what fruit might be yielded for interpretating Paul’s letter to the Galatian churches. In this endeavour, however, we must first discuss briefly these recent approaches to the study of Galatians. Then we will be in a better position to establish what questions need to be considered in our study to achieve a better understanding the nature of the Galatian crisis. Of course, our chief aim is not ––––––––––––––––– 15

Perhaps one of his most influential discussions in this regard is his view that Gal 4.8–20 is a string of topoi that belongs to the Hellenistic theme of friendship (Betz 1979:220–40). 16 E.g. Jewett 1971; Barclay 1988. 17 Levick 1967. 18 Mitchell 1993; Mitchell and Waelkens 1998. 19 For a bibliography of these published inscriptions, see Arnold 2005:432. 20 Oh 2001:18. 21 Oh 2001:12.

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only to piece together more clearly the Galatian crisis, but also to yield a fresh reading of Galatians, and, in turn, to gain a deeper perspective on Paul’s theology and the challenges it would have presented to his first converts in central Anatolia.

A. Recipient-Oriented Studies in Galatians Recent scholars who have centred attention upon the addressees have taken two widely diverging tacks regarding the specific social and religious background that would enlighten Paul’s letter. The first group has investigated the letter against an Anatolian religious setting, the second against the backdrop of the imperial cult. We must therefore review briefly and evaluate these two trends in order to determine which course carries us to a more satisfactory destination. 1. Galatians in Its Anatolian Religious Context We must begin our analysis with S. Elliott, who has written the most sustained attempt to resolve several exegetical quandaries in Galatians by understanding what she argues is the pagan cultic background of Paul’s readers, namely, devotion to the Mother of the Gods.22 She begins her monograph by raising several interpretative questions regarding two crucial sections of Paul’s letter, the allegory of 4.21–5.1 and Paul’s discussion on the Law’s function in 3.19–4.11. She wonders, for example, how Paul would have expected the readers to understand his rather nebulous mountain analogy in such a pivotal section of the letter. Elliott also enters the raging debates regarding Paul’s apparently negative portrayal of the Law, namely, that in subsuming the Mosaic Law under the stoixei=a (4.3, 9), he rendered the Law as functionally equivalent to paganism.23 Elliott believes that these sorts of questions can be resolved only by investigating the Galatians’ former devotion to the Mother of the Gods and her subservient partner Attis. In order to make the necessary links between Paul’s letter and the cult, Elliott thus traces the history and activities of the Mother cult in Anatolia.24 She first argues that the Mother of the Gods was worshipped in the context of a divine judicial system, as ‘the Anatolians lived in constant awareness of the watchful eye of their deities, believing in their ––––––––––––––––– 22

Elliott 2003; Elliott 1999. Elliott 2003:16–55. 24 Elliott tacitly follows Murphy-O’Connor’s argument that the readers of the letter were drawn from various house churches in the northern city of Pessinus, where there was a famous temple dedicated to Cybele. For an explicit comment regarding her view on the destination, see especially Elliott 2003:6 n. 15. 23

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power to protect as well as punish by an active righteous rage’.25 Elliott then argues that the Mother of the Gods was not perceived primarily as a fertility cult, but as a guardian of both her territory and the inhabitants within her jurisdiction. Her counterpart Attis, who was often depicted as castrated or androgynous, was subordinate but nevertheless an essential model to the Mother’s priests, the galli, who imitated the castrated state of Attis.26 After some one hundred seventy pages of painstaking discussion on this background, she then returns to the letter with the hope of bringing clarity to the rhetorical situation in general, and to the allegory in Gal 4.21–5.1 and Paul’s negative portrayal of the Law in particular. Regarding the crisis in Galatia, Elliott believes that the castration rituals of the galli are crucial for understanding both the readers’ attraction and Paul’s antagonism to circumcision. Here Elliott argues that Paul forcefully opposed the circumcision of the Galatians not because he thought the practice to be inherently wrong, but only because he feared that his converts, if circumcised, would fall back under the power of the Mother goddess.27 More specifically, Paul formulated the allegory of the two mountain mothers in Gal 4.21–5.1 with this Anatolian context in mind since the Mother of the Gods was often depicted as the Mountain Mother. Elliott believes that the Galatian readers would have associated the Mother goddess with Hagar of Mount Sinai. On this reading, then, Paul had put together a powerful rhetorical punch that would have persuaded the Galatian readers to reject the agitators’ message.28 What is more, the ethical section in Gal 5–6 reinforces this territorial dichotomy, as Paul introduced the Two Ways tradition into the argument not only as exhortation, but also as a metaphorical framework that expressed the dualistic domains of the flesh and the Spirit.29 Because the Galatians would have associated the Mountain Mother and her fleshly initiation rites with the flesh of circumcision, Paul’s argument would have been patently obvious. Circumcision would draw them back under the sphere of slavery, not unlike their former slavery under the Mother’s influence.30 Although Elliott never fully returns to all the exegetical questions she raised regarding Paul’s argument in Gal 3.19–4.11, she concludes by expanding her discussion of the Two Ways tradition to the flesh and Spirit dichotomy in Gal 3.1–5. Here, reminiscent of R. Jewett,31 she contends that the castration ritual of the galli provides the necessary background for Paul’s terminology of ––––––––––––––––– 25

Elliott 2003:88. Elliott 2003:134. 27 Elliott 2003:13. 28 Elliott 2003:256–7, 282–3. 29 Elliott 2003:291–312. 30 Elliott 2003:14, 254–5. 31 Jewett 1971:206–7. 26

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‘perfection’ (e0pitele/w). In contrast to the power of the Spirit, being circumcised would be similar to the fleshly entry rite of the galli, and thus be functionally equivalent to (re-)entering the sphere of the flesh.32 Elliott’s innovative thesis certainly deserves careful consideration, but a close examination reveals several crucial chinks in the armour. Perhaps the weakest link is her attempt to demonstrate clearly that circumcision and castration would have been associated with one another. Indeed, the closest parallel we have in the letter is Gal 5.12: 1Ofelon kai\ a)poko&yontai oi9 a)nastatou=ntej u(ma~j. Contrary to many modern translations (e.g. NRSV, ESV, NIV), however, even this statement is probably referring not to castration, but to severing the male member, which would cut one off from the community of God’s people (cf. Deut 23.2 [LXX]).33 Furthermore, Elliott’s attempt to compare the motivating factors for Jewish circumcision and the practice of castration among the galli is far fetched. Recognizing this weakness, she is forced to entertain the possibility (her excessive use of subjunctives in this section is conspicuous) that ‘an Anatolianized form of Judaism interpreted the significance of circumcision’ in the light of the galli.34 In this regard, she also assumes that the Galatian readers were attracted to circumcision because it reminded them of their former religious devotion.35 If this were true, one wonders why the readers of Paul’s letter were not already circumcised by the time Paul had been informed of this crisis. Indeed, notwithstanding his general tone of urgency, Paul was still convinced that his converts would not be persuaded by the agitators (Gal 5.10). Nowhere in the letter does Paul indicate that his readers had already rushed to the local mohel because the practice reminded them of the castration rituals of the galli. Indeed, one wonders whether Paul’s male converts (or the vast majority of males in Anatolia, for that matter) were attracted to castration (Elliott never went so far as to conjecture that among Paul’s converts there were any former galli).36 In the course of her study, moreover, there are a few instances where Elliott seems not to be aware of fundamental discussions that impinge on (or undermine) her discussion. She contends, for example, that certain words in Paul’s letter, such as e0pitele/w (Gal 3.3), were technical terms in the initiation rituals of the galli.37 Jewett, however, has already made a similar argu––––––––––––––––– 32

Elliott 2003:343–4, 347–8. See Williams 1997:142; cf. the review of Elliott 2003 by D. B. Martin in CBQ 66 (2004) 647–9. 34 Elliott 2003:245–51, here 248. 35 Elliott 2003:159: ‘This analysis…will explore why adult Gentile males in Anatolia would want to be circumcised’. 36 Although Elliott discusses at length the ostracised social location of the galli, somehow she still argues that their position was one of authority. 37 Elliott 2003:335–44 here 341–2. 33

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ment with reference more broadly to Hellenistic religion. In his seminal study on mirror reading, Barclay has rightly questioned this view, insisting that such an argument placed too much interpretative weight onto particular words and phrases.38 Although at many points Elliott’s thesis is unconvincing, she should be applauded for seeking to interpret the letter by investigating a religious background for the audience. One might well question, of course, whether this religious context is the correct one, since the Mother goddess was certainly not the only deity who was worshipped in Anatolia. Indeed, by the time of Paul’s letter, the Cybele cult was falling into disrepair in Pessinus, where the worship of the emperor had firmly supplanted the indigenous deity.39 What she describes as the ‘Anatolian zone’40 at the time of Paul’s letter is actually evidence taken from over six centuries in scattered places across rural Anatolia (often outside of Galatia!) and then somehow all gathered together as evidence for the cities in which the Galatian readers lived in the middle of the first century.41 If we restricted the available evidence to the urban centres of Galatia in the first century A.D., however, the ‘Anatolian zone’ would doubtless look radically different, as we will see. For our concern should not be the Mother of the Gods as worshipped in the third century A.D., but as worshipped at the time Paul penned his letter to the Galatian churches.42 We must now turn to a short study by C. E. Arnold, who develops a similar argument to that of Elliott by exploring what he believes to be the preChristian beliefs of the addressees in an attempt to explain why the recipients of Paul’s letter were on the brink of abandoning Paul’s Gospel.43 Specifically, Arnold draws upon a corpus of recently published inscriptions known as the ‘Lydian-Phrygian confessional inscriptions’ from western Anatolia, the majority of these texts dating to the second century A.D. (the earliest from the mid-first century). ––––––––––––––––– 38 Barclay 1987:81–2. For this point, see also Martin (n. 33 above). What is more, Barclay’s pioneering monograph on the function of Gal 5–6 (Barclay 1988) was conspicuous by its absence (even from her bibliography) in her important chapter on this topic. 39 Elliott 2003:356, to be sure, contends that there was an intimate relationship between the emperors and the Mother of the Gods, but this relationship must not be overplayed (see further Chapter 2 below). In Pessinus, the cult was fading, as she admits (Elliott 1999:673). 40 Elliott 2003:93. 41 The absence of dates, maps, and other geographical information is one of the primary shortcomings of her thesis. 42 For her use of inscriptions dating from the third century A.D., see, e.g., Elliott 2003:137. She justifies using such late evidence by conjecturing that they merely reflect a delayed epigraphic habit. 43 Arnold 2005. This essay originated as a paper read to the annual meeting of the Institute for Biblical Research in Atlanta, GA (2004) with a response from F. Thielman.

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Inscribed on dedicatory stelae, these texts reveal the confessional practices of indigenous folk belief in Anatolia, who sought earnestly to fulfil cultic requirements and to perform good works in order to avoid divine punishment. According to these texts, the devotees believed that a physical illness or condition (or even death) was often the result of being struck by the god for cultic disobedience. These stelae were most often dedications to the gods, expressing the deity’s power and the devotee’s transgression as an attempt to find relief from the divinely appointed malady. In the light of this evidence, Arnold concludes that Anatolian folk religion was chiefly concerned with maintaining a good standing before the gods. Arnold then suggests that the concern to ensure a favourable standing with the local deities in Galatia might well explain why the addressees of Paul’s letter were susceptible to the agitators’ message, which included fulfilling the cultic requirement of circumcision and performing the works of the Law. He even entertains the possibility that the agitators, employing a method not dissimilar to the contemporary strategies of the advertising media, actually tailored their message in the light of the Galatians’ pagan past in order to achieve a more effective conversion rate.44 In support of this view, Arnold then points out sections of Paul’s letter that may directly relate to these local Anatolian religious beliefs, such as Paul’s statement that Jesus gave himself for their sins (Gal 1.3–4) – divine forgiveness being a major concern of these propitiatory inscriptions. In addition, Arnold argues that the cursing motif in Galatians (Gal 1.8–9; 3.10–13) may have been a direct response to the agitators’ message, since the ‘fear of being cursed was an integral part of the Anatolian culture’.45 Finally, he explains that Paul’s ethical admonition to restore a person caught in a transgression (Gal 6.1) is strikingly similar to these texts, which involved what actions to take when caught in a transgression.46 Even if one might quibble with some of these conclusions,47 by turning his attention to the religious milieu of Anatolia, Arnold has indeed done well to show the fruitfulness of this area of research for the interpretation of Galatians. His view that the Galatian readers, owing to their pagan past, would readily have been attracted to the agitators’ message (despite their abhorrence of circumcision), is an attractive suggestion. His attention to the addressees is ––––––––––––––––– 44

Arnold 2005:446. Arnold 2005:447. 46 For other possible parallels, see Arnold 2005:446–9. 47 In Galatians, for example, there is nothing unique regarding the forgiveness of sins. Indeed, in 1 Cor 15.3, Paul stated this belief as one of the basic teachings handed down to the churches. In addition, one must not over-interpret the cursing parallels between Galatians and these inscriptions, as it is likely that the curses of Deuteronomy 27–9 , reflecting either Paul’s theological aims or his response to the agitators’ teaching, would have been mentioned irrespective of the Galatians’ background. 45

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therefore warmly welcomed, not least because it helps to chart new paths with regard to the rhetorical situation of Paul’s letter and how Paul’s argument was meant to (re-)shape their worldview and not merely to respond to the presumed charges and teachings of the agitators. To be sure, his analysis could be challenged on a few methodological points. Perhaps the most crucial weakness is Arnold’s certainty that the implied readers of Galatians had identical religious beliefs and practices to those who set up the stelae throughout western Anatolia. Arnold even concedes that the vast majority of the corpus dates from the second century A.D. and that no similar inscription has actually turned up in either ethnic or provincial Galatia. The nearest text rests some one hundred miles west of Pisidian Antioch (hence, the ‘Lydian-Phrygian’ and not the ‘Galatian’ inscriptions). Although many of the same traditional gods were worshipped across Anatolia and thus we should expect at least some common ‘pattern of religion’ (to use a loaded phrase) in this region,48 his insistence that Paul’s converts had a ‘deeply ingrained sensitivity to the importance of observing cultic requirements’ simply cannot be confirmed by the hard evidence that he presents. Of course, Arnold also assumes that Paul’s readers were all indebted strictly to indigenous folk religion without pursuing the possibility that some of his readers may have been Greeks or Romans and thus largely disconnected with these uniquely ‘unhellenistic’ (to use Arnold’s description) religious practices.49 Arnold’s thesis would certainly be more plausible were there any evidence that these practices were commonplace throughout Galatia and across a wide spectrum of social groups. The nature of the inscriptions actually supports the opposite – that these practices were restricted to the rural, indigenous villages of western Anatolia during the second century A.D. If Elliott and Arnold have read Galatians within its Anatolian cultic context, B.-L. Oh locates the Galatian churches more broadly in their social and Hellenistic religious climates. Reminiscent of Elliott, however, he argues that the Galatians’ attraction to Judaism (i.e. Mt Sinai and to Jerusalem) was related to their (Anatolian) pagan influence, which both gave religious significance to such locations and believed that people could influence the present world in which they lived.50 According to Oh, Paul’s allegory was constructed in order to combat their return to an Anatolian worldview in which the Mother ––––––––––––––––– 48 Although ‘the outlines of paganism were well defined and consistent from one city or region to another’ (Mitchell 1993:I.30), we should be careful not to homogenise indigenous religiosity without sufficient evidence to do so. If there were any similar inscriptions found in Galatia, one could then come much closer to justifying their use. 49 For the social stratification of the earliest Christian groups, see esp. Meeks 2003:51–73; Theissen 1982. For the recent argument that most of Paul’s churches were comprised of the urban poor, see now Meggitt 1998 (cf. the critical reviews of Meggitt by G. Theissen in JSNT 84 [2001] 65–84; JSNT 25 [2003] 371–91 and by Martin in JSNT 84 [2001] 51–64). 50 Oh 2001:41–70.

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of the Gods was often associated with a mountain.51 In addition, Paul’s rebuke of his converts for their observance of the (Jewish) calendar in Gal 4.10 was due to their previous engagement with superstitious religious observances and not to Paul’s disdain of the Jewish calendar.52 Thus, Oh contends that the primary religious background for Paul’s converts was indigenous Anatolian religion, which emphasised the fear of divine justice, doing good works, and the focus on mountains/territories.53 Although the first part of Oh’s study reveals some striking parallels with Elliott and anticipates the work of Arnold, he also ploughs new ground by utilising Graeco-Roman social backgrounds. For example, he argues that one of the primary reasons why Paul’s readers were abandoning him for the agitators was because they were employing secular categories to contrast his character with the agitators. On Oh’s view, the Galatians had rejected Paul in favour of the agitators because they judged him according to the secular categories of judging orators. Like many declaimers in those days, they believed that Paul had shaped his gospel message merely to win the favour of his audiences.54 In response to these charges, Paul denies that he was a people-pleaser and furthermore disparages the agitators’ own character and motives.55 Furthermore, Oh contends that the ethical section was written to counter the secular behaviour of Paul’s readers, which was linked neither to aberrant theology,56 nor to any moral uncertainty among the Galatians,57 nor even to their Anatolian religious background. Rather, Oh insists that the disunity among Paul’s readers was the direct result of socio-political factions that had flourished in the churches subsequent to Paul’s departure.58 Perhaps the greatest strength in Oh’s thesis is that wherever possible, he avoids mirror reading in order to investigate whether the Galatians’ own social and religious milieu might explain Paul’s argument. In this respect, he avoids the pitfall of making Galatians primarily a dialogue between Paul and his so-called opponents. In this regard, Oh is at least partially correct when he concludes that ‘Paul’s chief “opponents” (or “enemies”) were the Galatians ––––––––––––––––– 51

He disagrees, however, with Elliott’s view that Hagar was actually meant to be a deified representation of the Mountain Mother (Oh 2001:102). Following Barrett 1976, he argues that the agitators had first mentioned Hagar and in the allegory Paul was responding to their teaching (Oh 2001:102–3). 52 Oh 2001:117–18, 134–5. 53 Although Oh also mentions that the imperial cult was flourishing in Galatia during the NT period (Oh 2001:45–8), he did not explore this background for understanding the crisis in Galatia. 54 Oh 2001:29, 137–41, 155–61. 55 Oh 2001:162–83. 56 See, e.g., Schmithals 1972; Jewett 1971. 57 Betz 1979:273; Barclay 1988:70–1, 218; Martyn 1997:305–6. 58 Oh 2001:188–216.

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themselves’.59 Secondly, Oh does well not to restrict his evidence merely to Anatolian religions, but also to discuss the social and political factors that may shed light on Paul’s letter. Although some of his conclusions are overreaching (here we could refer to the same general weaknesses found in Elliott and Arnold), his thesis is very well argued at many points. He is on the right track when he states that their scrupulous observance of the Jewish calendar (Gal 4.10) was probably in response not to their concern for upholding the Law but to their pagan background. Of course, he does not investigate the possibility that Gal 4.10 might not refer to the Jewish, but to the pagan calendar, which brings us to the second interpretative grid in which Paul’s letter has been recently interpreted. 2. Galatians in Its Imperial Cultic Context If some scholars have looked to the indigenous religions of Anatolia in order to understand Paul’s letter, two others have proposed that the underlying problem in Paul’s letter is related to the worship of the emperor in Galatia. The first scholar to develop a sustained argument along these lines is B. W. Winter, who argues that in order to grasp the nature of the crisis in Galatia, one must read Paul’s letter in reverse.60 Taking the pen and composing this climactic letter closing with his own hand, Paul accuses the agitators of promoting circumcision for the practical purpose of self-preservation. By having these Gentiles circumcised, they hoped to make a good showing in the flesh and thus to avoid persecution for the cross of Christ (Gal 6.12–13). Far from the opinion that these statements were Paul’s last-ditch effort to pour scorn on the agitators, Winter contends that their motives, specifically the verb ‘to have a good face’ (eu0proswpei=n), are couched in quasi-legal terminology. These accusations, he insists, are best understood when one considers the civic obligations to observe the imperial cult. Lurking behind the agitators’ circumcision message was their desire to evade this public practice. These local Jewish-believing agitators were therefore compelling Gentile Jesus-believers to undergo circumcision in an effort to convince the authorities that Christianity was part of a religio licita.61 In the Greek East, Winter explains, the Greek and Roman populations were expected to worship the emperor by participating in the numerous imperial celebrations that packed the civic calendar. As a religio licita, however, Juda––––––––––––––––– 59

Oh 2001:224 (cf. Oh 2001:25: ‘Their socio-religious background provided a leverage for the agitators to commend law-observance’). Of course, I believe that understanding the agitators is vitally important in our exegetical endeavours (see ch. 4 below). 60 Winter 1994; now revised in Winter 2002. Winter has mentioned to me in private conversation that another version of this essay will also appear in his forthcoming monograph on the imperial cult in the NT, provisionally titled Seizing the Throne. 61 Winter 2002:75.

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ism was unique in that it offered protection for its members from the public worship of the emperor. The crisis facing the agitators (Jewish Jesusbelievers), then, was that pressure was being mounted on them from the civic authorities for being associated with the addressees (Gentile Jesus-believers), who had terminated their public worship of the emperor.62 Winter thus maintains that the agitators sought to have these Gentile Jesus-believers to join the ranks of Judaism through circumcision because ‘their own self-preservation and that of the Christian community was seen to be at stake’.63 Winter’s attractive proposal provides a fresh scenario for understanding the situation in Galatia, and his thesis certainly deserves serious consideration.64 In order to evaluate this proposal, however, we must investigate more fully the imperial cult during the Julio-Claudian era, its public practice across the Mediterranean, and its specific presence in the province of Galatia. In addition, Winter’s thesis requires that the agitators were local Jewish Jesusbelievers, a volte-face from the traditional identification of the agitators as a nomistic group of Jewish Jesus-believers from the Jerusalem church. In the course of our study we must therefore return once again to the debates regarding the identity of the agitators in order to evaluate Winter’s suggestion. What is more, because many scholars consider Paul’s accusations to be peppered with overstatement,65 we will need to address this issue before evaluating precisely from whom the agitators were avoiding persecution. Finally, we must analyse carefully the nature of Jewish rights during the Julio-Claudian period. Winter, to be sure, is clearly aware that the term religio licita is only a convenient way of describing the usual treatment of Jews in their local civic environments. Jews had no official charter preserving their traditional religious practices, but relied upon the favour of the civic authorities in their local communities. We must nevertheless determine whether Jews in fact were exempt from the imperial cult, as this position has been called into question among leading specialists on this topic.66 ––––––––––––––––– 62

On circumcision as the sine qua non of Jewishness, see, e.g., Fredriksen 1991:536–46; Barclay 1996:439. 63 Winter 2002:75. 64 For recent interpreters who have briefly discussed Winter’s theory, see Witherington 1998:447–8; Nanos 2002b:163; Stanton 2004:43–5; and now Wright 2005:75–6. 65 Jewett 1971 and Muddiman 1994 are two notable exceptions. 66 See Pucci Ben Zeev 1998; Pucci Ben Zeev 1996; Pucci Ben Zeev 1995; Rajak 1985; Rajak 1984. In his revised 2002 essay, Winter does not refer to Pucci Ben Zeev’s work, and he only mentions Rajak 1984 (Winter 2002:70 n. 30) in order to explain his use of the term religio licita. In a recent study, Tellbe 2001:37–51 disagrees with Pucci Ben Zeev’s insistence that Jews did not, in fact, have exemption from participation in the imperial cult. Tellbe, however, mistakenly reduces the imperial cult to the singular phenomenon of making sacrifices ‘to’ the emperor, when sacrifices were most commonly made ‘on behalf of’ (u9pe/r) the emperor, thus corresponding exactly with the language we find in Josephus’s account of the daily sacrifices for the emperor in Jerusalem (see pp. 102ff. below).

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T. Witulski provides an even bolder scenario for the Galatian situation.67 Instead of turning to the letter closing, Witulski examines Gal 4.8–20, only to conclude (reminiscent of J. C. O’Neill) that the section was a later interpolation in an already existing letter, which he calls ‘Galatians A’.68 Behind these two letters, moreover, lay two very different crises. Paul authored ‘Galatians A’ in order to combat Gentile judaising among the Galatian Jesus-believers. Their attraction to Judaism, however, was later exchanged for the worship of the emperor, which he argues was introduced publicly only after Paul had established these churches.69 On his view, then, in Gal 4.8–20 Paul addresses their defection to the imperial cult. Witulski devotes particular attention to several words and phrases in Gal 4.8–20, in order to support his claim. On his reading, stoixei=a (4.9) refers to the pagan gods, while the phrase toi=j fu&sei mh_ ou}sin qeoi=j (4.8) refers to the emperor and his family.70 Witulski also contends that h(me/raj kai\ mh~naj kai\ kairou_j kai\ e0niautou&j (4.10) refer not to the Jewish, but to the imperial cultic calendar.71 Finally, Witulski draws attention to Gal 4.17, in which Paul claims that ‘They are zealous for you, not with good motives, but they are wanting to exclude you so that you will be zealous for them’. Witulski believes that this statement must be interpreted within the context of the imperial cultic festivals, where the high priests (corresponding to the ‘they’ of Gal 4.17) would host a public event not with good motives, but only in order that they might be acclaimed by the people.72 Witulski thus mounts a cumulative case that the aim of Gal 4.8–20 was to dissuade the Galatians from the public worship of the emperor, which they had begun to practise after their conversion to Paul’s gospel.73 As if these salvos hurled at such well-established beliefs – the integrity of the letter and the interpretation of Gal 4.10 – were not enough, his arguments are mustered together with an even more provocative aim: to prove the socalled South Galatian hypothesis from evidence found within the letter itself and without having to appeal to evidence from Acts. Here, of course, Witulski departs from the overwhelming consensus among scholars writing in German that Paul’s letter was addressed to churches located in North (ethnic) Galatia.74 In order to establish his proposal, he first contends that the imperial cult took root in the North (at Ancyra, Pessinus, and Tavium) no later than A.D. 35, which pre-dates Paul’s travel to Galatia by at least thirteen years (on his ––––––––––––––––– 67

Witulski 2000. For an English summary of his monograph, see Witulski 2002. Witulski 2000:71–81, 218–21 (cf. O’Neill 1972). 69 Witulski 2000:194–215. 70 Witulski 2000:150–2. 71 Witulski 2000:158–68. 72 Witulski 2000:171–4. 73 Witulski 2000:187, 215. 74 Breytenbach 1996 is another notable exception. 68

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reckoning). Galatians therefore could not have been sent to the churches of this region since the crisis described in Gal 4.8–20 developed only after their conversion. According to Witulski, however, the public advent of the imperial cult in the South (particularly Pisidian Antioch) corresponds with Paul’s ministry in Galatia. He points to archaeological evidence that, in his mind, settles the debate regarding the official unveiling of the imperial cult in Pisidian Antioch. He first discusses an inscription on the architrave of the breathtaking triplearched gateway, which stood posed at the entrance to Antioch’s imperial cult complex. In addition, he provides a commentary on a forgotten inscription in honour of a local benefactor who built a wooden amphitheatre, which seems to reveal the first official munus of Pisidian Antioch. Witulski insists that both of these structures were dedicated precisely in the year A.D. 50, just prior to Paul’s letter to the Galatians. As bold as Witulski’s claims sound at almost every turn, his proposal certainly cannot be brushed away without further ado. The value of this study is found primarily in his attaching serious significance to the imperial cult, even if many of his conclusions fail to convince. His dating of the archaeological data, for example, runs up against an unscalable wall of objections, which we shall discuss more fully in the course of this study. What is more, his excision of Gal 4.8–20 from the rest of the letter warrants careful scrutiny. In this regard, the theses of Witulski and Winter, pass like ships in the night. (Ironically, their theses appear adjacent to one another in published volume in 2002 on Pisidian Antioch.75) What is more, G. N. Stanton has observed at least two other ideas that might well have been heard against the backdrop of the imperial cult.76 Much more needs to be said, then, in attempting to integrate Witulski’s interpretation of Gal 4.8–20 with the rest of the letter. As a result of Witulski’s investigation, to be sure, we are also confronted with a question that has not received adequate attention in previous studies on the Galatian situation: What were the Galatians actually doing at the time of Paul’s letter? In other words, is it possible that the Galatians were taking another course of action while contemplating circumcision? In this regard, we must evaluate the possibility that Galatians was written not only to prevent Paul’s readers from being circumcised in the near future, but also to turn them away from their current practices.

––––––––––––––––– 75 76

Drew-Bear, Tasçlıalan, and Thomas 2002. Stanton 2004:39–40.

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B. Aims of the Present Study We have painted in broad strokes two primary ways in which to understand Paul’s letter against the canvas of its social and religious setting. Despite their often-diverging conclusions when attempting to hear the letter with Galatian ears, the scholars we have evaluated have opened up new vistas in the interpretation of Paul’s letter. Although reading Galatians against the backdrop of the rural folk religion in Anatolia has certainly shown some fruit, we have concluded that the availability of specific evidence regarding the imperial cult allows for a more promising vantage point from which to evaluate the Galatian crisis. The result of our foregoing discussion, moreover, brings to light several questions that must be considered in our study: (1) Was the crisis exacerbated (or generated) by the pagan background of the Galatian readers? If so, what precisely was the social and religious environment? (2) Were there any social and/or political factors that were contributing to the crisis in Galatia? Specifically, can we know (a) why and from whom the agitators were avoiding persecution, and (b) what the Galatians were doing at the time of Paul’s letter, and if their reasons were motivated from socio-political factors? (3) In addition, if Paul’s letter was not merely a dialectical response to the presumed charges and teachings of the agitators, how, if at all, was Paul’s argument meant to (re-)shape his readers’ worldview as a way of helping to resolve the crisis? As we have already noted in our survey, in order to answer these questions, we must also attend to some additional issues, such as the identity of the agitators, the nature of Jewish rights with regard to the imperial cult during this period, and the unity of the letter. Of course, our interests also impinge upon several broader issues, which we will address by the end of this study. The cult of the emperor has become the latest interpretative grid for a growing number of NT scholars,77 and now even Galatians is no longer immune from this phenomenon.78 Is this trend merely the latest wave in NT studies that will soon crash under the weight of careful scrutiny? We shall attempt to make a small contribution to this debate ––––––––––––––––– 77

On the importance of the imperial cult in the NT, see, Meggitt 2002. For the Gospels and Acts, see Mowery 2002; Carter 2001; Brent 1997; Cuss 1974; Mastin 1973; for the letters attributed to Paul, see Horsley 2004; Keesmaat and Walsh 2004; Harrison 2003a; Harrison 2003b; Harrison 2002; Wright 2002; Oakes 2001; Wright 2001; Horsley and Stendahl 2000; Horsley 1997; Wright 1994; for John’s Apocalypse, see Friesen 2001; Kraybill 1996. 78 To be sure, these proposals have not yet been assimilated into broader discussions of Paul’s letter. Martyn 1997:esp. 17, for example, seems to be ignorant of Winter’s 1994 proposal. Although he offers no discussion of the imperial cult, he believes that the Cybele (Mother of the Gods) cult played a major role in the Galatians’ pre-Christian religiosity, based on the sanctuary in Pessinus to the Mother goddess (assuming a North Galatian destination).

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through a critical discussion of the importance of this topic in the Galatian letter. What is more, lest one be under the false impression that the imperial cult is a topic that needs only to be tucked away somewhere at the back of the dusty file labelled ‘Backgrounds to the NT’, we should bear in mind that much is currently being written on this topic for our interpretation of the theological agenda of the NT authors.79 Indeed, that Paul’s gospel message is directly aimed at an imperial target is nothing new for those familiar with N. T. Wright’s ‘fresh’ readings of Paul.80 On Wright’s reading, Paul’s theology had a thoroughly Jewish background, but it was aimed specifically at an imperial target; that is to say, Jesus is Lord, not Caesar.81 Wright, to be sure, is certainly not the first NT scholar to have argued this point. A. Deissmann made similar remarks at the turn of last century that until now have not sufficiently been followed up.82 We must turn again to this topic, then, in order to enquire whether this reading of Paul helps to illuminate more clearly his calling as apostle to the Gentiles. This study therefore falls within a much larger enterprise of undertaking a critical analysis of the importance of the imperial cult for our appreciation of Paul’s theology. In short, our aim is not only to evaluate the imperial cult as a helpful way into the Galatian crisis, but also to contribute to the contours of Paul’s theology.

C. Method of the Present Study As we have observed thus far, any discussion of Paul’s letter to the Galatians requires some degree of historical reconstruction. The traditional method of turning only to the limited (and often ambiguous) evidence contained within Paul’s short letter has understandably produced a myriad of proposals, which relate to little or no external evidence. Correlating the letter with historical or other external material, then, will serve as a buffer to the dangers of circular reasoning. Hopefully, this process will therefore result in the opportunity both to question reconstructions that have been assumed for many, many years, and also to consider carefully new proposals that might challenge these old paradigms. ––––––––––––––––– 79

See, e.g., Keesmaat and Walsh 2004; Stanton 2004:9–62; Harrison 2003a; Harrison 2003b; Harrison 2002; Wright 2002; Carter 2001; Oakes 2001; Wright 2001; Brent 1997; Wright 1994. 80 The title of his latest monograph, the published version of his 2004 Hulsean lectures in Cambridge, reveals explicitly this ambitious appraisal. 81 See esp. Wright 2005:59–79. 82 Deissmann 1927 (see further Chapter 2 below).

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Chapter 1: Galatians in Its Social and Religious Context

Attempting to reconstruct the past, of course, is a very difficult process, and can be likened to putting a puzzle together with only half the pieces and without knowing precisely what image the puzzle is meant to replicate. With M. Bloch, we must concede that ‘Explorers of the past are never quite free. The past is their tyrant. It forbids them to know anything which it has not itself, consciously or otherwise, yielded to them’.83 This reality implies, of course, not that our endeavour is hopelessly speculative, but only that its degree of certainty must reflect the available evidence. Without all the pieces of the puzzle, the nature of historical reconstruction is therefore inherently tentative. Our evaluation of historical, or any other external, evidence will only be useful, to be sure, inasmuch as it is undertaken in tandem with a careful exegesis of Paul’s letter. When we combine our historical evidence with a careful reading of certain sections of Paul’s letter, we are in a better position to evaluate any proposed construction of the Galatian crisis. Our exegetical process, then, provides us with at least traces of the missing puzzle pieces, so that we are further guided in discerning the puzzle’s image, despite not possessing all the pieces. We shall follow this method in the present study, attempting both to utilize the available evidence within (both North and South) Galatia and to relate this evidence to Paul’s argument in order finally to evaluate how plausible our construction of the Galatian crisis actually is, bearing in mind the tentative nature of the results of such a project. When proposing a fresh understanding of the Galatian crisis, we shall therefore apply a sliding scale of probabilities to evaluate not only the plausibility, but also the probability of our construction. In the end, of course, it is entirely possible (but hopefully not probable!) that we will throw up our hands in frustration. Finally, we must devote a brief word to the destination of Paul’s letter and the use of the evidence in Acts. Our study will not be particularly concerned to argue for the so-called South Galatian theory, although I believe in the light of recent studies that the scales have been tipped in favour of this destination, and I do not discern any fresh contributions in support of the so-called North Galatian hypothesis to be anywhere on the horizon.84 The evidence in Acts, then, will only come into play as supplementary evidence. We shall not attempt to turn to Acts in the first instance, but will instead relate our initial conclusions with Acts 13–14 to see how well they might or might not be in agreement. ––––––––––––––––– 83

Bloch 1953:59. Mitchell 1993:2.3–4 is even more adamant, asserting that ‘There is virtually nothing to be said for the north Galatian theory’ and that the letter ‘was certainly addressed to the Galatian churches which Paul had evangelized in the south of the province, and can be taken in conjunction with the account of that evangelization in Acts’. For a thorough defence of the South Galatian theory, see now Breytenbach 1996. 84

D. Procedure

19

D. Procedure We have reviewed briefly the most recent discussions of Paul’s letter to the Galatians vis-à-vis the Galatian readers. We have thus sought to identify the most relevant questions that still need to be answered in our study. We have suggested that while the imperial cult provides the most fruitful way into understanding the Galatian crisis, the two theories advanced on this topic still have left many questions unanswered. The aim of this study is therefore to analyse Galatians against the backdrop of the imperial cult in order to determine its value for understanding the social and religious setting of the recipients of Paul’s letter. Our discussion will be undertaken in two parts. In Part One, we shall rehearse the phenomenon of the imperial cult in the Roman Empire and in Galatia during the Julio-Claudian period. Specifically, we will devote adequate attention both to the imperial cult and to its ideology, including a discussion of festal and civic calendars, architecture, coins, and other imperial symbols. We will also draw some important conclusions regarding the civic allegiance and obligation to participate in the imperial cult (Chapter 2). Secondly, we must return once again to the evidence within Galatia in order to determine more precisely the religious milieu of this area during the time of Paul. This process will involve primarily an investigation of the imperial cult and ideology in Galatia (Chapter 3). In Part Two, we will then turn to Paul’s letter in order to evaluate how the letter might have been heard against the backdrop of the imperial cult. We shall begin with a study of Gal 6.12–13. In this chapter, we will discuss the nature of Paul’s charges against the agitators before turning our attention to the possible reasons why the agitators were avoiding persecution for the cross of Christ. This topic, as mentioned earlier, will also take us into some subsidiary issues, such as the identity of the agitators, the reliability of Paul’s statements in 6.12–13, and the issue of Jewish rights in the Graeco-Roman world (Chapter 4). The subsequent chapter will be devoted primarily to Gal 4.10 and will evaluate critically the view that ‘days, months, seasons, and years’ refers to the observance of the imperial cult. It will also be necessary to determine whether this understanding can be maintained if the integrity of the letter is also affirmed (Chapter 5). We will conclude our assessment by drawing together our findings in order to determine the fruitfulness of reading Galatians against the backdrop of the imperial cult. After proposing a fresh understanding of the Galatian situation, including a fresh reading of sections of Paul’s letter, we will then be able to address the questions posed here in this chapter (Chapter 6).

Part I

The Imperial Cult in the Roman Empire and in Galatia

Chapter 2(WUNT).doc, rev. 15:05:53, 01/12/2007

Chapter 2

Imperial Cult and Ideology in the Julio-Claudian Period Here is Caesar and all the Julian stock destined to cross under heaven’s expansive sphere. Here, in truth, is he whom you so often hear being prophesied to you, Augustus Ceasar, son of a god, who again will establish a golden age in Latium across the fields formerly ruled by – Virgil Aen VI.789–94 Saturn.1

Introduction Several decades before Paul’s gospel of Jesus Christ had penetrated the Mediterranean coast or the interior of Asia Minor, the Roman world beheld the birth of another source of good news, the rule of the emperor, to whom religious devotion swept almost instantaneously throughout the Roman world like an uncontrolled wildfire. It was the imperial cult, not Christianity, which was the fastest-growing religion of the first century. The authoritative hand of the emperor, to be sure, stretched far wider than the cult of religious rites. Imperial ideology wrapped its fingers around the very fabric of society, so that life itself revolved around the emperor and the divine family. In the past, however, only a handful of NT scholars devoted any sustained attention to the phenomenon of the imperial cult and its relation to the social and religious context of the NT.2 Perhaps this reluctance was in part due to the evidence we find of certain sceptical voices amidst the overwhelmingly positive reception of the cult. Perhaps the most well-known example is Seneca’s sardonic poem, Apocolocyntosis (‘Pumpkinification’), which was aimed in protest at Claudius’s apotheosis (the poem’s title is certainly a play on words).3 To be sure, Seneca’s satire was directed only against the deification of Claudius and not apotheosis in general, and he actually supported deification for worthy people, such as Augustus (Seneca De clem. I.10.3).4 One ––––––––––––––––– 1

‘Hic Caesar et omnis Iuli progenies magnum caeli ventura sub axem. Hic vir, hic est, tibi quem promitti saepius audis, Augustus Caesar, divi genus, aurea condet saecula qui rursus Latio regnata per arva Saturno quondam’ (my translation). 2 See, for example, Deissmann 1927:esp. 338–78 (see also his extensive bibliography 338 n. 2); Stauffer 1955; Cuss 1974. 3 Seneca Apocol. On the title, see Altman 1938:199 n. 8. 4 Cf. Altman 1938:200, who suggests that Seneca believed the emperor who lived a virtuous life as the Stoic sage was rightly considered a god.

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might nevertheless point to the emperor’s standard refusal to acknowledge divinity during his lifetime.5 The self-consciousness of the emperor seems at first blush to undermine the very cult that emanated through his rule.6 Vespasian’s deathbed joke that he felt himself becoming a god might itself suggest a moratorium on the subject (Suetonius Vesp. 23.4) – the imperial cult was no more than a political game between the provinces and Rome. This portrayal of the cult (as political rather than religious), after all, has been the traditional position among classicists. In this light, most NT scholars have understandably remained indifferent to the phenomenon of the emperor’s rule, except perhaps when discussing the render unto Caesar pericope (Mk 12.13–27 and par.) or selected passages in John’s Apocalypse. Some doubtless consider the recent upsurge of interest in emperor worship among NT scholars to be merely the latest fad that will soon pass. In recent decades, however, the imperial cult has received rigorous attention among classicists, and our understanding has therefore expanded drastically. In the light of recent studies such as S. R. F. Price’s Cambridge monograph Rituals and Power (1984), prior conceptions of the imperial cult as merely a pawn in the game of diplomacy have been undermined with fresh evidence and sounder methods of interpretation.7 G. K. Bowersock, a specialist on the imperial cult and a former adherent of the political view of the emperor worship, represents the radical shift among classicists in understanding the cult.8 Another specialist, G. Alföldy, has even concluded that ‘from the

––––––––––––––––– 5 For imperial refusals, see, e.g., Suetonius Aug. 52 (Augustus); Tacitus Ann. IV.37–8; SEG XI.923 (Tiberius; cf. Tacitus Ann. IV.55–6); for Claudius, see n. 81 below. 6 In the past, some scholars (e.g. Bowersock 1965:112–21), citing Tiberius’s refusal to receive divine honours, have maintained that the imperial cult was only a political subterfuge whereby the Greek subjects practised the imperial cult only in return for imperial favour. The effect of these divine refusals, however, has been exaggerated (Taylor 1929:esp. 101). More recently, Price 1984b:53–77, 114–21 has argued that far from being a diplomatic ploy, the imperial cult was the means by which the Greeks and Romans defined their relationship with the emperor’s power (cf. also Fishwick 1993:I.1.34–45, 158–63; Fishwick 1990:esp. 271; Béranger 1953:137–69). 7 We must also mention other significant studies on the topic, such as Zanker 1988; Friesen 1993; Clauss 1999; and the exhaustive series of monographs on the imperial cult in the Latin West by D. Fishwick (see the Bibliography). For older studies on the imperial cult, see, e.g., Taylor 1931 (the standard introduction); Cerfaux and Tondriau 1957; Mellor 1975; Fayer 1976. For other works between 1955–75, see the extensive bibliography in Herz 1978. 8 See Bowersock’s endorsement on the back cover of Price’s monograph: ‘As a former adherent of the political interpretation of the cult, I have to confess that I felt the scales drop from my eyes when I read Price’s book, and for the first time understood why the citizens of the Roman Empire did what they did in worshiping their rulers’.

Introduction

25

time of Augustus to that of Constantine, the cult of the emperor was… the most important type of worship’.9 As a result of the advance in scholarship on the ruler cult, the dismissal of this area of study as only of peripheral interest to NT exegetes and theologians is no longer valid. Indeed, a growing number NT scholars are beginning to recognise that our increased understanding of the imperial cult and ideology carries the promise of illuminating the social and religious setting of the NT and thus of enhancing our exegetical endeavours.10 Although it would have seemed rather strange only twenty years ago, it is therefore no surprise that the July 2005 issue of the Journal for the Study of the New Testament was devoted to various aspects of imperial ideology in relation to the NT.11 In the light of this renewed interest, we must tackle the key question: What exactly was the imperial cult and where (and to what degree) did it take root in the Roman world? The aim of this chapter is in part to answer this question by tracing the formation of the imperial cult as it transformed the religious and cultural12 landscape of the fledgling Empire.13 Along the way, we will consider evidence from literary and documentary sources, archaeology, and numismatics, in order to show how the cult and its ideology was fundamental to the lives of the inhabitants of the Roman world. In this brief sketch, we will not gather up all the evidence for the cult and imperial ideology across the Empire – the nets would surely snap. Of course, neither should we think it necessary to be exhaustive, given the limited scope of our project. Instead, our focus will be on selected aspects of the imperial cult and ideology that will help us to understand the nature of imperial rule during the Julio-Claudian period and that will later have direct relevance in our discussion of the social situation in the Galatian churches. After rehearsing the rise and proliferation of the cult, we will then discuss several aspects of civic life that indicate the all-pervading influence and reception of imperial ideology throughout the Empire. At the end of this study, we hope to be in a better position to suggest some conclusions regarding the nature and impact of the imperial cult during the first century. ––––––––––––––––– 9

Alföldy 1996:255 (I am grateful to my supervisor G. N. Stanton for this reference). See, e.g. Wright 2005:esp. 59–79; Stanton 2004:esp. 9–62; Harrison 2003a; Harrison 2002; Meggitt 2002; Oakes 2001:esp. 129–74; Tellbe 2001; Brent 1997. 11 The general editor D. G. Horrell asserts in his introduction that in the light of the current research on the topic, ‘Any who suspect, therefore, that the current interest in the New Testament and Empire is a fad, driven more by contemporary political interests than by historical substance, should find those suspicions thoroughly laid to rest’ (Horrell 2005:254). 12 On the precise definition of culture, I refer to Burke 1994:xi: ‘a system of shared meanings, attitudes and values, and the symbolic forms (performances, artefacts) in which they are expressed or embodied’ (I am grateful to Meggitt 2002:161 n. 7 for this reference). 13 In this chapter I am particularly grateful for the excellent (but little-known) essay of Meggitt 2002, even if our specific aims diverge at several points. 10

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Chapter 2: Imperial Cult and Ideology in the Julio-Claudian Period

A. The Rise and Proliferation of the Imperial Cult What soon became the public worship of the emperor actually began with the declaration of the Roman Senate on the first day of the year 42 B.C., that Octavian’s adopted father Julius Caesar was a god – an occasion notably less than two months after the Lex Titia established the triumvirate to restore the state (Dio Hist. XLVII.18.3–19.3).14 That the Senate did not half-heartedly venerate the deceased dictator is clear from the plans to erect a temple for him in Rome,15 which was dedicated on the opportune occasion of Octavian’s victorious return from Egypt in 29 B.C. (now the only remaining member of the triumvirate).16 The imperial cult in the Greek East commenced as early as the winter of the same year when Octavian granted permission to Ephesus and Nicaea, the chief cities of Asia and Bithynia respectively, to erect sanctuaries to the cult of Roma and Divus Julius. Although Roman citizens were instructed to honour these two divinities in tandem, the Greeks were to dedicate temples to Augustus and Roma, the Asians in Pergamum and the Bithynians in Nicomedia (Dio Hist. LI.20.6–9; Tacitus Ann. IV.37).17 Thus began the cult of the ruling emperor in the Roman Empire – and there was no turning back. 1. Augustus: Benefactor and Saviour Only two years later the name Augustus (Seba&stoj), replete with religious implications, was conferred upon Octavian by decree of the Senate (Suetonius ––––––––––––––––– 14

Julius Caesar, to be sure, had already received divine honours before his death in 44 an extraordinary fact that has resulted in a recent debate as to whether the dictator had arranged plans to establish a ruler cult during his lifetime. Fishwick has argued convincingly that he did not, even if the position to which he had attained was certainly regarded as divine (Fishwick 1993:I.1.56–72). 15 See Weinstock for details on Julius’s deification and on the temple dedicated to him (Weinstock 1971:385–401). Until the Julian temple was completed, the bronze statue of the deified Caesar resided in the temple of Venus Genetrix, which is significant when one considers Octavian’s claim to have descended from the lineage of Venus (Fishwick 1993:I.1.74, 76). 16 The timing of the temple’s dedication, in the summer of 29 B.C., was not a matter of coincidence. Octavian, who had just returned to Rome in the wake of his victory over Antony and Cleopatra, celebrated a triple triumph – for his Dalmatian campaigns (35–3 B.C.), Actium (31 B.C.), and Egypt (30 B.C.) – before dedicating to his father the new Senate House (Curia Julia) and the Julian temple (Dio Hist. LI.21.5–22.2). These two structures were to transform the Forum Romanum (see further Simon 1986:84–91; for a detailed study of the transformation of the Roman Forum under Augustus, see Dumser 2002; Zanker 1972). 17 Cassius Dio explains in his account that these actions set a precedent for subsequent emperors, but such a distinction between the Greeks and Romans, of course, was difficult to maintain for long, as seen, for example, in the oath of Gangra (Paphlagonia) in 3 B.C., in which both Romans and Greeks swore loyalty to Augustus by the gods and strikingly listed Augustus among the witnessing deities (see n. 118 below and the corresponding discussion). B.C.,

A. The Rise and Proliferation of the Imperial Cult

27

Aug. 7.2).18 The spontaneous dissemination of emperor worship was subsequently realised throughout the Roman Empire with fervent reverence for the living emperor as one standing, as it were, between humanity and the gods, both as saviour of the Roman people and as the supreme benefactor of the world.19 Nicolaus of Damascus, a contemporary biographer of Augustus (and political adviser to Herod the Great), reflects upon the implications of Octavian’s new name in relation to his benefactions: Because humankind address him thus (as Augustus) for this esteem of his honour, they revere him with temples and sacrifices over islands and continents, being organised both by cities and peoples (e1qnh), repaying the greatness of his virtue and his benefaction (eu0ergesi/an) to them.20

It is important that we begin with Nicolaus because these remarks show not only the reception of imperial rule in the Greek East, but also the early stage in which the cult took root – Nicolaus was writing in the mid-20’s B.C. His testimony is verified by a notable inscription from Mytilene that mentions both the benefactions of Augustus and the enthusiastic response of the people. The Mytilenes sent an embassy to Augustus with a petition to establish a cult to him, in which they proposed to celebrate his birthday each month with sacrifices, to establish athletic contests, and even to designate public funds for the rearing of sacrificial animals. Interestingly, they also decreed that inscribed copies of the proposal were to be set up in the most illustrious (tai=j e0pishmota&taij) cities across the Mediterranean, including the geographically diverse Syrian Antioch, Pergamum, and Tarraco.21 Although only fragments of the inscription remain, it provides significant information for understanding the process by which a city might launch a cult.22 What is more, this ––––––––––––––––– 18 Cf. Augustus Res Gestae 34.2 (for text, translation, and notes, see Brunt/Moore). On the religious significance of the name Augustus, see, e.g., Kienast 1982:79–80 and Brunt/Moore 77–8. 19 For the emperor’s status between the gods and mortals, see the diverging views of Price 1984b:94 (cf. Price 1984a) and Friesen 1993:esp. 148–52. Against Price’s view that the Greeks blurred the distinctions between the emperor’s being a god and a mortal, Friesen helpfully suggests that the Greeks considered the living emperor as a god in relation to them, but as a mortal in relation to the gods. Of course, in actual practice the distinction between the two was often blurred. 20 FGrH 90 F 125.1 (my translation). For text and commentary, see now Bellemore 1984; see also esp. Wacholder 1962; Dobesch 1978. 21 The list of cities is incomplete due to the stone’s corruption, but the remaining names preserve the intended geographical distribution. Interestingly, some scholars have maintained that the cult established in Tarraco was directly influenced by the Mytilene proposal (Étienne 1958:365–7; Price 1984b:74), a hypothesis now strengthened even further by Fishwick 1993:I.1.171–3. It is also interesting that the delegation requested that a copy of the proposal also be set up in Augustus’s house and on the Capitol in Rome. That this proposal was inscribed publicly is confirmation that Augustus accepted the offer. 22 For the process of establishing local and provincial cults, see Price 1984b:66–7.

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proposal sheds important light on our understanding of the language used to honour the emperor, which went far beyond anything the Greek East had reserved in response to the benefactions of Hellenistic Kings, with their final resolution that if anything more glorious (e0pikude/steron) than these [resolutions] is found from this time hereafter, the zeal (proqumi/an) and the piety (eu0se/beian) of the city, (is resolved) not to fall short towards anything of which is able to deify (qeopoiei=n) him further.23

Similar praise of Augustus is seen in a poorly preserved inscription from Cos. The language of this honorary inscription places Augustus among the gods in terms of his divine pedigree and his benefactions to humankind: Since Emperor Caesar, son of god, god Augustus (Qeou= ui9o\j Qeo\j Sebasto/j) has by his benefactions to all people outstripped even the Olympian gods.24

These superlative appositions joined the stock of titles accorded to the emperor,25 and inscriptions in his honour stood conspicuously in the most prominent places within the city. Thirteen inscriptions to Augustus alone, for example, have been recovered from the agora in Athens.26 Such messages proclaiming the emperor’s greatness, however, were propagated not only on stone, but also through the economic medium. Imperial coinage advertised in unison this grand narrative like miniature billboards. Several Augustan coin types, for example, included the comet of Julius Caesar (sidus Iulium). According to Suetonius and Pliny, a comet appeared each night during the seven-day festival (ludi Victoriae Caesaris) that Octavian had hosted in honour of Caesar. The comet’s advent was considered to be cosmological confirmation that Julius had ascended to the gods (Suetonius Iul. 88).27 In response to this celestial sign Octavian even placed a star upon the crown of the Julian statue in Rome, after which the sidus became a symbol ––––––––––––––––– 23

IGRR IV.39, col. b. lines 12–17 (my translation). I.Olympia 53, lines 2–3 (my translation). For this inscription being Coan, see Robert 1946:146 n. 2. For additional benefaction inscriptions, see Harrison 2003a:84. 25 For similar titular honours lavished upon Augustus, see, for example, IGRR IV.201: ‘Imperator Caesar, son of god, god Augustus’ (Au0tokra&tora Kai/sara Qeou= ui9o\n Qeo\n Sebasto/n). For the Greek language of the imperial cult, see esp. Price 1984b:here 84, who has shown that it is incorrect to assume that qeo/j was merely a translation of the Latin deus or divus: ‘The fact that the Greeks could use theou huios theos, even in conjunction with other Roman titles, shows that they did not regard the simple theou huios in the same way as the Roman saw divi filius’ (cf. Price 1984a:55). 26 Benjamin and Raubitschek 1959:esp. 75–83 (I am indebted to Meggitt 2002:146 for this reference). On the transformation of Athens during the early imperial period, see Shear 1981:356. 27 Cf. Pliny HN 2.93–4; Virgil Ecl. IX.46–50; Horace Carm. I.12.46–8. See further Scott 1941 (cf. Weinstock 1971:370–84; Taylor 1931:91ff). 24

A. The Rise and Proliferation of the Imperial Cult

29

of hope for the new age of Augustus, appearing on coins,28 seals, and even finger rings (NB the possible parallel with the star of Jesus’ nativity recorded in Matthew 2.1–12).29 The numismatic storyline, however, was broadcast not only in the West, but also in the Greek East (even as far away as Syrian Antioch).30 The reverse of a silver cistophorus struck in Pergamum (19–18 B.C.), for example, displays the Temple to Roma and Augustus that the emperor had granted a decade earlier.31 Furthermore, a silver cistophorus issued in Ephesus (28 B.C.) was meant to remind those within Asia Minor of the peace and prosperity Octavian had brought into the world, as both sides of the coin make clear.32 The obverse legend is remarkable: ‘IMP(erator) CAESAR DIVI F(ilius) CO(n)S(ul) VI LIBERTATIS P(opuli) R(omani) VINDEX’ (‘Imperator Caesar, son of god, consul for the sixth time, protector of the Roman people’s liberty’).33 The reverse depicts personified Pax, holding a caduceus (an emblem of peace and harmony) and standing by a cista mystica (symbolising Asia).34 As pax was accomplished only as a result of the emperor’s military strength, the entire symbol was situated within a laurel wreath. Of course, this intricate imagery required few words to convey the imperial message, the symbols of which would certainly not have been lost on firstcentury observers. What is more, this final example illustrates how coins from the East often fused local traditions and symbols with the symbols and images ––––––––––––––––– 28 E.g. RIC Augustus 37a = BMC Augustus 323 (a Spanish Denarius from 19/18 B.C.). The obverse of this coin shows the head of Augustus crowned with an oak wreath laurel, symbolising Augustus as the saviour of the state who had effectively brought peace to the world. The reverse depicts an eight-rayed comet with the tail pointing upwards. The legend across the middle of the coin reads: divus Iulius (Divine Julius). 29 Zanker 1988:35. For other coins with the sidus Iulium, see, for example, RIC Augustus 102) and the coins reproduced in Zanker 1988:34 (fig. 25a, 26). In a forthcoming study, I plan to examine the political significance of the star of nativity from Matthew’s Gospel in the light of the sidus Iulium. 30 For coin issues in the Greek East, see esp. Sutherland 1984. 31 RIC Augustus 505 (cf. RIC Augustus 506). On the obverse, the coin displays the bare head of Augustus (symbolising a peaceful administration). The reverse shows the hexstyle temple with the title ROM(ae) ET AVGVST(us) inscribed on the architrave. The reverse legend reads: COM(mune) ASIAE. 32 Sutherland 1951:31. Wallace-Hadrill 1986:here 69 has argued that imperial coinage was meant to carry an imperial message not merely on the reverse but on the obverse as well: ‘Both obverse and reverse images are value-laden. The emperor’s head is a symbol of authority based in ideal on consent. The emperor was ideally respected and literally worshipped by all his subjects. Any reverse image specifies one of the reasons for which he is respected: the “good” deserves respect’. 33 RIC Augustus 476 = BMC Augustus 691. The obverse shows Octavian crowned with a laurel wreath. 34 Although the cista mystica was affiliated with the Hellenistic Dionysian Mysteries of Asia, by the imperial period it came to symbolise Asia in general.

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of imperial rule, thus forging ‘a set of visible and uncontrovertible [sic] examples of how people construed the world in which they lived’.35 Moreover, we must not forget that prior to Augustus it was almost unheard of to portray any living person on a coin. During Augustus’s reign, however, we know of 189 locations that struck portrayals of Augustus (not to mention the regularity with which the coinage displayed the divine family).36 2. Civic Space and Leisure The significance of the emperor was, of course, articulated on a much larger scale, transforming not only the images on coins but also the topography of entire cities. Temples and sanctuaries dedicated to the emperor sprang up almost instantaneously, and the rate at which they were built did not decline but remained steady until a temporary spike at the beginning of the third century. The sheer number of temples built to the emperors is astonishing. Price has catalogued no less than seventy-seven from Asia Minor (thirty of which were erected by the end of the first century), and his count represents a rather conservative method of reckoning. Price omits from his statistics some two-dozen more that remain undated along with several other doubtful cases.37 What is perhaps more striking than the number of imperial temples, however, is the priority of civic space that these impressive structures were allocated. In Athens, for example, a temple to Augustus was next door to the Parthenon on the Acropolis – the religious heart of the city.38 The central planning of the imperial cult may also be seen in the city of Eresus on the island of Lesbos, where no less than three temples were constructed: one to Livia, a second to the sons of Augustus (Gaius and Lucius) ‘in the most prominent part of the agora’, and a third to ‘Augustus god Caesar’ on the harbour at the market.39 NT scholars will probably not need to be reminded of the magnificent coastal temple in Herod’s Caesarea Maritima, which was furnished with colossal statues of Roma and Augustus and which Josephus notes was visible a great distance from the coast (AJ XV.331, 339–40; BJ I.403, 414–15).40 ––––––––––––––––– 35

Millar 1984:45. One should bear in mind that the coin issues found in the Greek East were often centrally chosen, probably even with the involvement of the emperor (Price 1984b:174). Sutherland 1984:20 cautions, however, that provincial coinage that ‘was encouraged, permitted, or even condoned was all, in one sense or another, a part of the great and comprehensive imperial pattern’. 36 Millar 1984:44–5. 37 Price 1984b:xxiii (map III), 59, 249–74 (catalogue). One temple he omits is from Pisidian Antioch, which has now been decisively identified as imperial (see pp. 71ff. below). 38 Shear 1981:363. 39 IG XII Supp. 124, here lines 16–21 (see Zanker 1988:298; Price 1984b:3). 40 Josephus states that the temple was to Caesar (Augustus), but technically it would have been dedicated to both Roma and Augustus because of the colossal statues housed there. The temple was dedicated in 10 B.C. with a festival, which continued as a quinquennial event.

A. The Rise and Proliferation of the Imperial Cult

31

In addition to sanctuaries, imperial altars helped to transform the city centres across the Empire. In Miletus, for example, a lavish Augustan altar crowded the courtyard of the city’s council house (bouleuth&rion). This architectural scheme demonstrates quite vividly the integration of the imperial cult within the civic structures of the city.41 Imperial statues, too, were erected in the city’s most prominent places. These images are noteworthy not only because they were often produced in towering dimensions (many statues extending over four metres in height)42 and afforded asylum to individuals in distress,43 but also because they adhered perfectly to the Roman statue type. Thus the familiar Augustan capite velato model, in which the emperor was reverently pouring a libation (the model par excellence of a devout Roman citizen), may be observed in Corinth and in Samos.44 Of course, this common practice provided a uniform portrayal of the emperor from one end of the Mediterranean to the other, putting on display images worthy of reverence and emulation.45 In terms of city transformation, we have scarcely begun to scratch the surface. It would take us beyond the limited confines of our present aims to go into detail regarding, for example, the scores of Roman baths, theatres, and amphitheatres, which were constructed during this period. These structures not only enhanced the city’s appearance and civic pride, but the forms of leisure that attended them were often occasions for imperial sacrifices and festivals. Even when cultic rites were not being celebrated, the structures themselves were continual reminders of the emperor’s greatness. The overwhelming imperial statues postured behind the stage of the theatre on the colonnaded façade (scaenae frons), for example, gave the impression that the rulers in Rome were actually present.46 In the light of this evidence, we can conclude that the combination of imperial monuments and temples with other structures representative of Roman ––––––––––––––––– 41

See Price 1984b:138; Zanker 1988:298. In addition, some emperors, such as Gaius and Nero, permitted statues of them to be made from precious metals, but the commoner practice was for them to refuse these divine honours (Scott 1931b:esp. 101; cf. now Price 1984b:186–7, with references). 43 See Tacitus Ann. III.36.1; 63.3; IV.67.6; Suetonius Aug. 17.5; Tib. 53.2; 58; Dio Hist. LI.15.5 (cf. Weinstock 1971:395–7). 44 For plates of these statues, see Simon 1986:esp. 62–5; Zanker 1988:300–2. For the view that clay or waxen imagines were distributed throughout the Empire, see the seminal study of Swift 1923. 45 Extant evidence from private portraiture even reveals that hairstyles and dress of private citizens were derived from the imperial model (Zanker 1988:302). 46 For a helpful discussion on these points, see Meggitt 2002:151–2. On leisure in Rome during the imperial period, see Toner 1995:esp. 123–7, who argues that leisure, which was meant to bring the social classes together, was one of the primary means by which the emperors maintained authority and secured peace. Toner’s thesis could well be applied to the Empire as a whole. 42

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culture were constant reminders to every passer-by of the incalculable significance the emperor possessed in every aspect of life. Furthermore, it was this architectural stage that helped to solidify Roman rule within the Greek East by expressing a positive feeling of belonging to the Roman Empire.47 3. Temporal Space: New Calendars and the Golden Age We should also note that the extent of the emperor’s influence in the Roman world stretched beyond the three dimensions of civic space; even the reckoning of time was transformed. The most important evidence in this regard comes from a significant dossier of 9 B.C. that was originally discovered in Priene, but surviving fragments of which have now been discovered in the cities of Apamea, Eumeneia, Dorylaeum, and Maeonia.48 The text, inscribed on two stone slabs, records the results of a competition that had been held in Asia (29 B.C.) with a prize for the individual who could devise the most splendid honours for Augustus. The first stone records that the victor Paullus Fabius Maximus had proposed, or perhaps better, had instructed (he was the proconsul) that the New Year should be realigned to coincide with Augustus’s birthday, 23 September:49 (It is difficult to tell) whether the birthday of the most divine Caesar (tou= qeiota&tou Kai/saroj) is something of greater pleasure or benefit, which we could rightly accept to be equivalent to the beginning of all things (th=i tw~n pa&ntwn a)rxh=i); and he restored, if not to its nature, at least to serviceability, every form, which was falling away and had carried over into misfortune; and he has given a different look to the whole world, which gladly would have accepted destruction had not Caesar been born for the common good of all things.50

The second stone records the subsequent decrees of the Asian koinon in 9 B.C., and the language of the decree overtakes even the kow-towing exaltation of the proconsul: Since the Providence (Pro/noia) that has [divinely] ordained our life, having harnessed her energy and liberality, has brought to life the most perfect good, Augustus, whom she filled with virtue (a)reth=j) for the service of mankind, giving him, as it were, to us and our descendants a saviour (swth=ra), he who brings an end to war and will order [peace (ei0rh/nhn)], Caesar, who by his [epiphany (e0pifanei/j)] surpassed the hopes (e0lpi/daj) of all those who anticipated [good news (eu0ange/lia)], not only [outstripping the benefactors] coming before him, but also leaving no hope of greater benefactions in future; (And since) the [birthday] of the god initiated to the world the good news (eu0angeli/wn) resulting in him…(and since) Paullus Fabius Maximus…has invented an honour for Augustus that until now has been unknown to the Greeks – to begin time (xro/non) from his birthday – for that reason, with good

––––––––––––––––– 47

Zanker 1988:298. For the text and a detailed analysis of this inscription, including all the known fragments, see Laffi 1967:5–98 (cf. RDGE 65). 49 For Paullus Fabius Maximus as consul (with Quintus Tubero) in Rome during the year 11 B.C., see Augustus Res Gestae 6.38. 50 Lines 4–9 (my translation). 48

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fortune and safety (swthri/a|), the Greeks of Asia have decided in all the cities, to begin the New Year with the 23rd September, which is the birthday of Augustus.51

The koinon not only synchronised the New Year with Augustus’s birthday, but also supplanted the Macedonian lunar calendar with the Julian solar one (probably not coincidentally during the same year Augustus was adjusting the Julian calendar back in Rome). In addition, Fabius’s proposal, along with the subsequent decrees, were to be proclaimed and then inscribed on stone and placed in the imperial sanctuary of every major city. Although some towns doubtless continued under their traditional time schemes,52 that copies of the inscription have been preserved in five cities confirms that the decision of the Asian koinon was indeed carried out. Such an enactment would, in addition, presuppose that there was an imperial sanctuary to be found at least in every assize centre of Asia. In the light of this calendar inscription, several interesting points of contact with early Christianity could be drawn, particularly the language employed to describe the emperor and his rule. The Neutestamentler, for example, will readily identify in this text the terms ‘good news’ (eu0agge/lion, employed both in its noun and verbal forms), ‘saviour’ (swth=ra), ‘appearing’ (e0pifanei/j), and ‘peace’ (ei0rh/nhn). These parallels have been observed by Deissmann in his illustrious Licht von Osten of a century ago and now most recently by others such as P. Oakes, J. R. Harrison, and G. N. Stanton.53 Although no small amount of controversy revolves around the precise origin and intent of some of these terms when employed by the NT writers,54 it is not difficult to imagine that such terms would have rung bells for first-century ––––––––––––––––– 51

Lines 31–41, 44, 47–53 (my translation). See Price 1984b:106 and Samuel 1972:171, 174–6, 181–2, 186–7. 53 See Deissmann 1927:345, 347, 366; Oakes 2001:139–40, 161; Stanton 2004:30–2. 54 Deissmann 1927:342 employs the phrase ‘polemical parallelism’: ‘Thus there arises a polemical parallelism between the cult of the emperor and the cult of Christ, which makes itself felt where ancient words derived by Christianity from the treasury of the Septuagint and the Gospels happen to coincide with solemn concepts of the Imperial cult which sounded the same or similar’ (followed most recently by Meggitt 2002:157). Stanton 2004:35, however, argues that although the respective language clearly rivalled one another, it would be hard to defend any direct polemics from either side during Paul’s lifetime. In addition, Oakes 2001:130 has recently pointed out that whatever nuance one gives to the rival language, it must not be reduced to language of ‘cult’, since this language belonged to a total package that encompassed all of life. As a result, more potential exists in NT studies for seeing Christ’s advent as relativising not only the cult, but also the broader aspects or results of imperial ideology in society and in politics (for a solid, but preliminary, attempt in this direction, see esp. Meggitt 2002). If both Stanton and Oakes are correct, the question arises: Did Paul employ this similar terminology with complete innocence, as if he was ignorant of any possible rival language? Alternatively, did Paul perhaps employ this language deliberately in an attempt to realign the theological Weltanschauung of his converts? For a positive answer to this latter question in relation to Romans 5 and 8 , see Oakes 2005; Harrison 2003a:esp. 90–1. 52

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Gentile converts. Whereas these terms characterised Augustus’ beneficent rule, the NT writers employed them to announce the universal rule of Jesus Christ. For the time being we must refrain from a fresh round of discussion of this provocative topic, but we will come back to these points later when discussing the situation of the Galatian readers (Chapter 5). For our present purposes, we will limit ourselves to the implications of an interesting statement from the thirty-eighth line of the calendar inscription quoted above, which refers to those who anticipated good news (tw~n prolabo/ntwn eu0ange/lia pa&ntwn). This reference begs for a brief comment on the anticipations and references to the golden age (aurea aetas) among the poets of Rome, a subject that has commonly received less than its due in NT discussions of the imperial cult and ideology.55 Here we must make brief mention of the Roman poets Virgil and Horace. The former’s Eclogues, a collection of poems published together in 38 B.C., include traces of Augustan honours (a notable fact, as they were completed several years before Actium).56 In particular, it seems clear that both the fifth and the ninth Eclogues were intended to venerate the divine Julius.57 What is more, one could plausibly argue that the reference in the first Eclogue to the god who brought peace (line six) – certainly a reference to Octavian – was intended at least as an unofficial dedication of the entire collection of poems.58 It is, however, the fourth Eclogue (composed in 40 B.C.) that provides the clearest example of eschatological anticipation.59 In this poem Virgil spoke of a child (puer) who would usher in the golden age, according to a Sibylline prophecy. At that time the earth would bring forth lavish fruit, the ––––––––––––––––– 55 Brent 1999:esp. 54–67 is one exception. For the Augustan poets, see esp. the judicious essay of Griffin 1984:189–218. 56 Because these texts primarily come from the early imperial literary engineers of Rome, we might be susceptible to over-interpretation from the start. It could be that they were simply the product of imperial propaganda in Rome (i.e. not the shared experience of the Roman people), which did not win a pervasive influence in the Greek East. Of course, from the overwhelming evidence we have just gathered from the Greek East, we would be remiss to be overly-sceptical. In any case, Pelling quite rightly argues that these works were not strictly propaganda (CAH X.45; similarly Wallace-Hadrill 1987:221–2). 57 Fishwick 1993:I.1.78. In Eclogue IX.46–50, for example, Virgil refers to the sidus Iulium that signalled the fruitfulness of the new age: ‘the star, which should make the cornfields glad with produce and should cause the grape to be ripened with colour on the sunny hills’ (astrum, quo segetes gauderent frugibus et quo duceret apricis in collibus uva colorem) (my translation). For the sidus Iulium, see n. 27 above and the corresponding discussion (for the sidus in Pisidian Antioch, see p. 61 below). 58 Pelling CAH X.45. 59 For an excellent discussion of this Eclogue as well as the poets in relation to Augustus’s religious and political authority, see, e.g., Brent 1999:54–67 (to whom I am indebted in this brief discussion).

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animals would also experience incessant fecundity, and the cattle would not fear huge lions (lines 18–30). When the puer became an adult, moreover, the earth would experience its final renewal: The very trader will retire from the sea, nor will the ships bearing pine exchange goods; every land will bear all things.… At this time, the hardy ploughman also will release the oxen’s yoke. Nor will wool be taught to feign variegated colours, but the very ram in the meadows will change its fleece, at this time to a sweet-blushing purple, to a golden yellow; scarlet freely will clothe the grazing lambs.60

Although there has been endless discussion over who exactly this child was,61 by the time of Virgil’s Roman epic, the Aeneid (published shortly after his death in 19 B.C.), it had become clear that the puer was none other than Augustus.62 In book six, Aeneas is taken to the underworld where the future of Rome’s greatness is revealed to him – the Julian lineage of rulers, particularly the divine Augustus, would inaugurate the golden age (see the epigram to this chapter).63 Indeed, Rome actually celebrated the return of the golden age (aurea aetas) in 17 B.C., when Augustus reinstituted the secular games (ludi saeculares).64 Traditionally, the secular games were celebrated in response to the end of one age (saeculum) and the beginning of a new one, normally a span of one century. Under Augustus’s leadership, however, it was determined that a ––––––––––––––––– 60

Virgil Ecl. IV.38–45 (my translation). Brent 1999:54–6 reminds us of the cyclical nature of history among the Romans when compared with the linear one in Judaism represented, for example, in Dan 2.33–45, but he notes that the fourth Eclogue takes on a more climactic view of history than it does a cyclical one. Ryberg 1958:esp.131, on the other hand, argues for a cyclical view of history in Eclogue 4, but concludes that by the time of the Aeneid, Virgil’s viewed the golden age as in some sense final and climactic. 61 Some suggestions are that the child referred (1) to the anticipated heir of the recently wedded Antony and Octavia (Octavian’s sister), (2) to the child of Asinius Pollio, the consul of 40 B.C. mentioned in the poem at line 12, or (3) to the heir of Octavian. For these and other options, along with the relevant literature, see Boyle 1976:113. 62 Interestingly, the early Christian fathers later (e.g. Lactantius) referred to Virgil’s fourth Eclogue as Messianic prophecy, since to them the universal saviour was Jesus (see further Clausen 1994:127; Courcelle 1957). 63 Cf. Virgil Aen. I.286–96; VI.789–807. Brent 1999:57–8 is correct to note that the identification of the puer with Augustus was secured even by the time Virgil had composed the Georgics, a collection of bucolic poetry that he read to Augustus on his victorious return from Actium in 29 B.C. (Suetonius Vita Ver. 27). 64 Fortunately, an inscription detailing the festivities has been preserved (CIL VI.4.32323). See also Suetonius Aug. 31.4; Claud. 21.2 (cf. Augustus Res Gestae 22.2). On the secular games in Rome, see esp. Pighi 1965.

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saeculum was properly 110 years and that the new age was thus expected to arrive in 17 B.C.65 In addition to the elaborate preparation for the festival, Augustus appointed the poet Horace to compose an ode for the occasion. The Carmen Saeculare (Song of the Age) was the product, and it contained several themes deriving from the solemn rituals that were undertaken (often with Augustus presiding) during the festival.66 Most importantly, the song heralded the golden age that promised health and fecundity (with several allusions, of course, to Augustus’s moral and social reforms),67 and in proper eschatological fashion it was a chorus of children – twenty-seven boys and twenty-seven girls – who sang the ode during the festival. The inauguration of the golden age of Augustus was indeed good news (eu0agge/lion). It not only meant the realigning of time, as we have seen from the calendar transformation in Asia,68 but also it resulted in the frequent celebrations not entirely dissimilar to the ludi saeculares, which were accomplished through festivals, games, and sacrifices on behalf of the ruling emperor and his family. We have already noted the local Mytilene proposal, which advocated the celebration of the birthday of Augustus with monthly sacrifices. This phenomenon, even if it may seem exceedingly zealous, was by no means unusual. Corresponding enthusiasm for the public worship of the emperor may be observed elsewhere, particularly through the astonishing number of imperial priests who were responsible for organising festivals and games on the emperor’s behalf. In Macedonia, for example, the cult of Augustus dates to 27 B.C., when the high priest presided over the imperial games (a)gwnoqe/thj).69 Only three years after Cappodocia was annexed into the Roman Empire (A.D. 17), a similar phenomenon occurred. An inscription mentions the koinon, which was sponsoring games in connexion with the provincial imperial cult.70 In this light, we must not overlook the civic calendars, which were chockfull of celebrations in honour of the emperor and his family. Although there are only scattered remains for the civic calendars in Rome, Italy, and the ––––––––––––––––– 65 On the social and moral reforms of Augustus in relation to the new age, see Zanker 1988:167. 66 See Fraenkel 1957:364–82; for the odes of Horace in relation to the Augustan age, see esp. Benario 1960:339–52; Fraenkel 1957:239–97. Interestingly, Claudius celebrated the secular games (on a different cycle) in A.D. 47, in order to celebrate the 800th anniversary of Rome. 67 On the imagery of fertility and abundance during this time, see Zanker 1988:172–83. 68 The island of Samos even reckoned the new year from the apotheosis of Augustus (see Price 1984b:75, with references). 69 Edson 1940:125–36. 70 See Mitchell 1993:I.102. For the provincial koinon in the East, see Deininger 1965:19– 20, 36–98.

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colonies, a few tentative conclusions may be drawn regarding the public calendars. First, the civic calendars, which would have been publicly displayed in their respective cities, integrated the religious, political, and commercial aspects of the city into one holistic system. Thus, we would find integrated into the same civic calendar both public business days and imperial holidays.71 Secondly, we should note that it is no longer generally disputed that the civic calendars in both the East and West adhered to the state calendar of Rome with regard to the imperial days of celebration.72 The first-century Italian calendar from Cumae (A.D. 4–14) provides a crucial example in this regard.73 Despite its fragmentary nature, this calendar provides the most detailed evidence for the sorts of imperial events celebrated in Italy and throughout the Roman colonies. In addition to the birthday of Augustus, which was celebrated with sacrifices to the living emperor,74 the calendar included the natales of Tiberius and his sons Drusus and Germanicus. What is more, the calendar prescribes the celebration of other anniversaries co-ordinate with Augustus’s political and religious career, such as his assumption of the toga virilis, his taking up the fasces, the conferral of the name Augustus (also celebrated with sacrifices to him), his selection as Pontifex Maximus, his first consulship, his first victory, and his first salutation as imperator.75 Even the dedications of the Ara Pacis in Rome, of the altar to Fortuna Redux (celebrating his safe return from Parthia in 19 B.C.), and of the temple of Mars Ultor were celebrated. Of course, these events all corresponded with the official state calendar in Rome.76 ––––––––––––––––– 71

These are the fasti in the Roman calendar (Samuel 1972:154). Only forty-five calendars have been preserved from the reigns of Augustus and Tiberius, thirty-eight of which the original provenance is known (twenty-five from Rome, twelve from other towns in Italy, and one from a colony in Sicily). Rathbone notes that these calendars depart from earlier Republican calendars in that ‘They give no festivals peculiar to their own city, but only differing selections from the official festivals of the city of Rome’ (CAH X.841–4, here 841; cf. Panciera 1973/4). He then states that although the provinces would probably have departed from this pattern, the official Roman calendar would have been reflected in the armies and in the Roman colonies (see n. 76 below). A third century military calendar (Dura Europus), for example, accords perfectly with practice in Rome, at least in terms of celebrating the former emperors and their family (for the Duran calendar, see Fink, Hoey, and Snyder 1940; Beard II.71–4). For the colonial similarities to the official state calendar at Rome, see the regulations for the Julian colony at Urso in Spain (ILS 6087), which was inscribed later in the first century after having some Augustan amendments to the regulations (Rathbone CAH X.844). 73 ILS 108 = CIL X.2.8375 (see further Fishwick 1991–92:II.1.490, 509–10, 517). 74 It is almost certain that the natalis of Divus Iulius, among other special days, would have been celebrated, but unfortunately the inscription breaks off at this point. 75 Augustus makes much of this celebration in his Res Gestae 11. 76 See Fishwick 1991–92:II.1.490, with further discussion. 72

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Because the calendar from Cumae does not contain any days or regulations on public business, to be sure, it is uncertain whether it was the official civic calendar of the city or was perhaps connected with an Augustan collegium (although the latter is much less plausible).77 Whatever its precise function, the calendar marks an astonishing number of days relating to the emperor and his family. One would expect civic calendars elsewhere to have included corresponding days – the birthdays of living and deified emperors and their family members, other significant imperial days, and significant state holidays – in addition, of course, to any significant local events (e.g. the founding of the Roman colony, celebration of the civic god/goddess).78 Indeed, the evidence (however fragmentary) we have from the Greek East confirms this scenario, as imperial anniversaries were clearly modelled upon the state-religious calendar, particularly the birthdays of the current and deified emperors. Other notable days were observed as well, such as the annual celebration of the altar to Fortuna Redux among the members of the imperial choir in Pergamum (as we saw in the calendar from Cumae).79 Thirdly, it is truly remarkable how many days would have been celebrated publicly, both on the provincial and local levels. The imperial cult was therefore a phenomenon that altered, in addition to the civic space, the temporal space of the city. Public participation in imperial festivals was surely an attractive and enjoyable element of the imperial cult, and thus we could envisage that such festal occasions would frequently have involved the entire population and not merely the Roman élite. This latter suggestion, of course, requires some verification. 4. Augustus and His Successors At this juncture, however, it should first be noted that fervour for the worship of the emperor did not wane after Augustus but continued steadily throughout the Julio-Claudian era.80 Perhaps the most striking evidence for the growing phenomenon of emperor worship comes from the emperor Claudius (A.D. 41– 54), who was venerated during his lifetime contrary to the common assumption that the emperor was only deified subsequent to his apotheosis.81 During ––––––––––––––––– 77

For the latter suggestion, see I.Italiae 44 (p. 278) , but against this designation, see Fishwick 1991–92:II.1.490. 78 Fishwick 1991–92:II.1.500. 79 IGRR IV.353 (early second century); see further Price 1984b:61, 90; and esp. Fishwick 1991–92:II.1.492–7. See also n. 114 below for the imperial holidays in Narbo. 80 For the building of temples, see n. 37 above and the corresponding discussion. 81 E.g. P.Oxy. XXXI.2555): qeou~ Klaudi/ou ktl.; SEG XXXVI.1221 (Lycia): Tibe/rion Klau/dion...Qeo\n Sebasto\n ktl.; Smallwood 135 (Caria) ): Tibe&rion Klau&dion Kai/sara Germaniko_n au)tokra&toa Qeo_n Sebasto\n ktl.; Smallwood 136) (Lycia): Tibe&rion Klau&dion Kai/sara Sebasto&n Germaniko_n Qeo_n e0pifanh~ ktl.; BMC Ionia 207 (Ephesus):

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the Julio-Claudian period, in fact, the emperors were not alone in receiving divine honours. Some members of the imperial family also received cults during their lifetimes. Claudius’s first act as emperor (A.D. 41), for example, was to venerate officially his grandmother, Livia Drusilla, and to place her statue in the temple of Augustus at Rome.82 Almost immediately following the Senate’s decision to deify her, the city of Pisidian Antioch established a priestess of the new goddess, who was drawn from the most élite family of the colony.83 In Athens not only did the council of the Areopagus recognise Livia’s divine status,84 but also the city possessed a priest of Claudius and his family for life.85 In all, some eleven members of the imperial family had received cults by the middle of the first century.86 The imperial cult had long since transitioned from the individual to the collective institution, becoming an expression of both political and religious loyalty to Roman power.87

––––––––––––––––– bronze coin with the obverse symbol showing the heads of Claudius and Agrippina with the legend QEOGAMIA; reverse shows a statue of Ephesus with the legend EFESIA. Of course, following the precedent of Augustus and Tiberius, Claudius refused divine honours in Alexandria (CPJ II.153.48–51), but ironically the decree inscribing Claudius’s letter addressed him as ‘our god Caesar’ (line 9). On the island of Thasos, Claudius rejected a temple to himself, but there was a priest to him in the same city (and perhaps a temple as well) (see Thasos II.179–81, here pp. 69–70: ‘Bien loin donc d’interpréter le silence de la lettre impériale comme un refus, les Thasiens conclurent au contraire à une acceptation tacite; ils désignèrent un prêtre chargé de célébrer le culte nouveau’). In addition, a temple to Claudius has been uncovered on the island of Cos, and remains of his statue as well as other imperial statues have been found in a temple of Athena in Priene (Price 1984b:249, 258). Pliny also records that a temple to Claudius was erected on an estate in Prusa of Bithynia, but by his time it had fallen into disrepair (Pliny Ep. 10.70). Although the emperors generally declined veneration during their lifetimes, evidently this protocol did not follow through in practice (see n. 6 above). 82 Suetonius Claud. 11.2 (cf. Smallwood 129)). Her name had been changed in Augustus’s will to Julia Augusta (Tacitus Ann. I.8), and she died fifteen years later (A.D. 29) at the age of eighty-six (Ramsay 1939:206). 83 The text was published in Ramsay 1939:206–09 (no. 3) with commentary. See also an inscription from Corinth dedicating (a building?) to the ‘deified Augusta’ (Kent 55) . 84 IG II/III2 3.3238: ‘Julia divine Augusta Providence’ ( 0Iouli/an Qea_n Sebasth_n Pro&noian ktl.). See also ILS 6896, where there is a flamen of her cult (Olisipo, Lusitania). 85 IG, II/III2 3.3274. A Claudian coin issue from Hierapolis (Phrygia) also represented on the reverse a temple with the legend GENEI SEBASTON, ‘to the imperial race’ (see RPC 2973). 86 Only four cults for members of the imperial family were received from the mid-first century onwards (Price 1984b:57). 87 Price 1984b:58, 7–22, 234–48.

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B. Reception of the Imperial Cult and Ideology If we have begun to understand the religious and cultural transformation that the principate effected during the Julio-Claudian period, then we now must provide some justification for our statement above that the cult often involved the entire populus. To do this, we will first investigate to what degree the imperial cult interacted with or relied upon traditional paganism before evaluating the local benefactions for and participation in various festivals, games, and processions. 1. The Imperial Cult and Pagan Religion It is clear that often the public worship of the emperor, rather than supplanting the local pagan religions in the Greek East, was simply amalgamated with it. The combination of the worship of the Greek and Roman gods with the emperor can be observed, for example, in Ephesus, where the cult of Artemis (Diana) was often celebrated in conjunction with the emperors in the first century.88 Tacitus even records that the Senate passed over erecting a provincial temple there because they considered the state-worship there already to be centred upon Diana (Ann. IV.55). Another example comes from a Macedonian inscription (published in 1983) from the year A.D. 1, which records the benefactions of a Macedonian citizen and priest of Zeus, Roma, and Augustus. Monthly sacrifices were offered to Zeus and Augustus, along with feasts and games for the people.89 We should not be surprised to find an intimate relationship between the gods and the emperor, especially since the cult sacrifice itself assumed and even required a close connexion between them. Most sacrifices that were part of the public worship of the emperor were made to the gods on behalf of the emperor. These rites therefore required active participation in paganism in addition to the worship of the emperor.90 On the sacrifices themselves, S. Friesen has pointed out (in contradistinction to Price) that the people turned to the emperor for their safety but to the gods for the emperor’s safety and that it was therefore natural to sacrifice both to the emperor and to the gods (some––––––––––––––––– 88

See Price 1984b:189; Fishwick 1991–92:II.1.492. For an intriguing argument, on the basis of numismatic evidence, that the Ephesian episode of Acts 19.23–40 is illuminated by understanding the intricate bond between the city goddess Artemis and Claudius’s wife Agrippina, see Kreitzer 1996 (cf. p. 41 n. 95 below). 89 See Price CAH X.845. For the emperor’s affiliation with Zeus, see also, for example, OGIS 659 (Augustus, from Egypt) ); P.Oxy. II.240) (Tiberius); MAMA VI.250 (Claudius, from Acmonia). 90 One could also note the fact that Augustus traced his affiliation and genealogy to the gods, thus indicating that he had no intention of supplanting the worship of the pagan gods either when he deified his deceased father or when he allowed temples to be dedicated to him throughout the Roman Empire.

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times simultaneously). Although in this sense Friesen is certainly correct, in actual practice the precise distinction between the emperor and the gods was often blurred.91 The phenomenon of imperial worship, however, should not be relegated either to the pattern of Hellenistic king worship or to the divine man tradition in the Greek East.92 Neither should it simply be seen in conjunction with the worship of the Roman goddess Roma, as has been so often presumed among NT scholars.93 The imperial cult was significant in that it most commonly superseded traditional religious worship with a uniform system of religious devotion.94 To turn again to the city of Ephesus, for example, notwithstanding the connubial relationship between the emperor Claudius and Artemis,95 we can observe the priority of the imperial cult over the city’s goddess. It is not coincidental that the Augustan temple was constructed on the upper square as the centrepiece of the city’s invigorated building programme and not erected in the lower plain near the temple of Artemis.96 This de facto replacement theology is also prominent in the Galatian province, where the imperial temples in Ancyra, Pessinus, and Pisidian Antioch all took pride of place over the traditional celtic temples to Mên and Cybele from pre-Roman generations – the imperial cult was never assimilated with such non-Greek cults (but this is to anticipate our discussion in Chapter 3).97 In short, there was something significantly fresh and powerful with the rise of emperor worship in the Greek East. F. Millar, a leading specialist on the Roman principate, has driven this point home: There is nothing anywhere to suggest that the scale of the cult-acts for Hellenistic kings had ever approached that which immediately appears for Augustus. Few cults of deceased Hellenistic kings lingered on, and only a modest range of evidence attests cults or games or shrines

––––––––––––––––– 91

See n. 19 above. On this point, see esp. Price 1984b and Millar 1984. 93 E.g. Koester 1982:I.369: ‘Insofar as the official Roman emperor cult maintained the structures created by Augustus, it was not a cult of the divine person of the emperor. Its predominant features were rather the cult of Roma (the city of Rome as the symbol of the divinely sanctioned rule of Rome over the nations) and of the Divus Julius (Caesar)’. 94 Meggitt 2002:148. 95 Here I am alluding to the coins struck in Ephesus commemorating the marriage of Claudius and Agrippina, which suggest a strong linkage between the empress and the goddess Artemis (RIC Claudius 119); cf. BMC Claudius 231–3; Kreitzer 1996). 96 For the overwhelming presence of imperial structures in Ephesus, see esp. Friesen 1993:esp. 59–75, although he is probably too eager to show the shared and equivalent roles of the emperor and Artemis. The material evidence simply cannot uphold his argument on this point. 97 Price 1984b:96. 92

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for even the major Roman figures of the late Republic. The sudden outburst of the celebration of Octavian/Augustus was a new phenomenon.98

We have seen the assimilation as well as the dominance of the imperial cult into traditional paganism. We must now finally turn to the public celebrations and rituals of the cult. 2. Civic Patronage and Competition Price has shown that the competitive values (i.e. the love of honour, filotimi/a) among the urban élite were a significant impetus driving the explosion of imperial sacrifices, feasts, games, and contests.99 Thus, we should not be surprised to read on a dedicatory stone at Chios that a local citizen established a consortium specifically to finance an imperial festival every four years (probably enacted with Gaius’s accession in A.D. 37). His munificence was such that his descendants were to be included in the processional.100 Although imperial temples were frequently financed from the city’s treasury, sometimes their construction would come from benefactions, such as the three Eresian temples on the island of Lesbos.101 Cities even competed amongst themselves on the issue of establishing and sustaining the cult. We have already observed that Mytilene considered herself to be a cultic paradigm for the most illustrious cities of the Empire. It is likely, in fact, that Tarraco was actually inspired from Mytilene to launch her own cult.102 Of course, the provincial cult, too, provided an impetus for intercity competition. In Asia, for example, the Senate’s approval for the province to erect a provincial temple to Tiberius, Livia, and the Senate was met with so much controversy that eventually the Senate had to arbitrate among the eleven Asian cities that were jockeying for the honour – in the end Smyrna was selected (Tacitus Ann. IV.15, 55–56). It is significant that the Senate was by no means disinterested in the decisions of the provinces on such matters. This fact brings us to the provincial and local reception of the cult and any social obligations that might go along with it. 3. Civic Responsibilities and Obligations Both Cassius Dio and Tacitus tell us that Tiberius deprived the city of Cyzicus of its freedom partly because the inhabitants failed to finish a temple to his deified father (Hist. LVII.24.6; Ann. IV.36). We should bear this fact in mind ––––––––––––––––– 98

Millar 1984:53 (I am indebted to Meggitt 2002:148 for this reference). Cf. Price 1984b:73–4; Liebeschuetz 1979. 99 Price 1984b:62–3, with references. 100 IGRR IV.947–8 (Chios), with critical discussion and restoration of the two fragments in OMS I (pp. 486–501) ). See Price 1984b:62 n. 33 for this and further references. 101 Price 1984b:63. 102 See n. 21 above.

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when analysing the local participation in the cult; although a city’s participation in the imperial cult was voluntary, there was certain pressure placed upon her to ensure that the cult thrived. Even the emperor was not ignorant of the civic activities with regard to the public veneration of the ruling family. We must not picture the cult as merely a solemn and empty-hearted religious duty: ‘Typical features of a Greek religious festival were not stained glass and pews but the sun and the open air, not black suits but white robes’.103 Each year on the day of Gaius Caesar’s assumption of the toga virilis, the inhabitants of Sardis would clad themselves in white and sport crowns on their heads in celebration.104 What is more, Sardis even observed the day on which the city was evangelised (eu0angeli/sqh) with the news of Gaius’s coming to manhood by wearing crowns and sacrificing to the gods (lines 14–15).105 We also know that some imperial festivals included processions, sacrifices, feasts, games, and competitions.106 Perhaps the most elaborate details for a procession come to us from Gytheum, a city of Laconia near Sparta. An inscription recording a decree and letter of the Emperor Tiberius specifies the activities of a six-day theatrical festival in honour of the divine family, each day being devoted to a different member of the imperial house.107 Although the exact stages of the procession are lost on the epigraphic record, the dossier explains that the procession would terminate at the theatre, where statues of Augustus, Livia, and Tiberius had been set up. Before the games began, in the centre of the theatre sacrifices were to be made to the gods for the safety of the princeps (lines 4–11). After the ‘days of the gods and princeps’ (ta_j tw~n qew~n kai\ h9gemo/nwn h9me/raj) were completed, the city would celebrate at least two more days of theatrical performances, but the president of the games was encouraged to supply as many games beyond this as he was able (lines 17–24). As a prelude to these supplementary performances, an additional procession would commence, and this time the directives are clear on the stone. Beginning from the temple of Asclepius and Hygeia (for the good health of the imperial family), the participants, who were clad in white and wearing laurel crowns, would process to the temple of Caesar. There they would offer a bull for the safety of ––––––––––––––––– 103

Price 1984b:102. For white dress, see also Suetonius Aug. 98.2. For celebratory garb on imperial days, see Fishwick 1991–92:II.1.475–81. 105 IGRR IV.1756 (for discussion on Augustus’s response, see Sherk no. 68; Price 1984b:70, 214); on the military importance of Gaius’s campaign in the East, see Zetzel 1970. 106 Gladiatorial games rapidly spread during this time from the West across the Mediterranean, and they were almost exclusively affiliated with the imperial cult (Robert 1971:240, 270–6). 107 SEG XI.922–3 (see Beard II.254; Price 1984b:210–11) . 104

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the rulers. Sacrifices in the market would also follow the procession, presumably followed by a public feast (lines 25–31). What is striking about these provisions is not only the detailed regulations for the procession and sacrifices, but also the fact that it was a ‘sacred law’ (i9ero\n no/mon) and thus failure to adhere to the regulations would result in a fine of 2,000 drachmas levied against the agoranomos and the ephors (lines 31–34). Perhaps these penalties were unusually severe, but for lack of comparison we cannot confirm this impression.108 Almost two centuries later Tertullian states that everyone was expected to participate on the imperial days, by wearing crowns, donning white garments, and decorating the door of one’s residence with lamps and laurels.109 We cannot know if these expectations were in place on a local level during the Julio-Claudian period, although Cassius Dio tells us that citizens in Rome were compelled to wear festive garments on the natalis of Divus Iulius.110 At any rate, from the record of Gytheum we can conclude that at least some provisions were included in order to ensure that the city officials followed the elaborate rubric. Of course, we should not fail to realise that the celebrations were quite attractive. In the case of Gytheum, the public celebrations would have been especially pleasing in the light of the theatrical performances and of the prospects of receiving some of the sacrificial meat from the market. It is no wonder that Augustus devoted two whole sections of his Res Gestae to the various games he sponsored from his private funds.111 Neither should we be under the false assumption that the cult involved merely the élite. Some NT scholars have supposed that the non-citizens of Roman colonies would not have been expected (or even invited) to participate in the imperial cult.112 The available evidence, however, does not point us in this direction. We have already noted the largess of one local citizen who dedicated three imperial temples on the island of Lesbos. The same inscription also records that he offered sweet meats, a bottle of wine, and three pounds of bread to the citizens and Romans as well as to the foreigners (toi=j te poli/taij kai\ 9Rwmai/oij kai\ paroi/koij) at the good news (e0pi\ toi=j eu0angeli/oij) of the safety and victory of Augustus.113 Another Augustan inscription, this time from a Roman colony of Narbo (Colonia Iulia Paterna Narbo Martia), records that on a handful of imperial days incense and wine were to be bestowed upon the colonists and inhabitants ––––––––––––––––– 108

For other decrees, see, e.g., IGRR IV.40 (a decree of Mytilene in honour of Augustus); I.Ephesos IV.1404 (of Claudian date?). 109 E.g. Tertullian Apol. 35.4, 11; Tertullian De idolol. 15–17 (for further references, see Fishwick 1991–92:II.1.529). 110 Dio Hist. XLVII.18.5. 111 Augustus Res Gestae 22–3 (I am indebted to Meggitt 2002:151–2 for this point). 112 See, for example, Taylor 2004:73–4; Oakes 2001:137. 113 See n. 39 above.

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(et colonis et incolis) for the supplication of Augustus’s divinity, including Augustus’s birthday (23 Sept), the Roman New Year (1 Jan), and the day on which Augustus took up the fasces (7 Jan).114 Here we are reminded once again of the state religious calendar leaving its imprint on the non-Italian cities of the Empire.115 That these special imperial days would be altered to accommodate the new emperor is made clear from a Tiberian inscription of Etruria (A.D. 18). Not only did the council and the people (decuriones et populus) have a feast each year on the natalis of Augustus (including the following day for Livia), but also they celebrated the date on which Tiberius was made Pontifex Maximus (10 March) by distributing honey-wine and cakes to the people. In Egypt, it was the city authorities who publicly announced the people’s obligation (o0fei/lomen) to participate in imperial celebrations by wearing laurels and sacrificing oxen to the gods for the new emperor Nero (A.D. 54).116 Imperial festivals were a corporate event for colonists and residents alike. We must finally conclude our analysis of civic obligations regarding imperial rule with a striking phenomenon – the oaths of loyalty to the emperor.117 An inscription found in Paphlagonia at Gangra dating to 3 B.C., only three years after being joined to the Galatian province, records an oath of loyalty to Augustus and his family.118 The Phazimonites, who now dwelt in Neapolis,119 each swore individually both to support Caesar and his entire family ‘all of my life both in word, in deed, and in thought… and to report [to the civic authorities?] whatever I might perceive or hear being spoken, plotted, or done against them’ (lines 9–12, 18–21). It is interesting to note that Augustus is listed with the deities by which the people swore loyalty: ‘by Zeus, the sun, all the gods and goddesses, and Augustus himself’ (lines 9–10).120 Even more significant for our immediate purposes, however, is that the entire populus publicly participated in the ceremony. Although the Phazimonites ––––––––––––––––– 114

ILS 112 = CIL XII.4333 (on this inscription, see further Kneissl 1980). See n. 79 above and the corresponding discussion. 116 P.Oxy. VII.1021. 117 For a discussion of four existing oaths, see esp. Weinstock 1962, although he unfortunately omitted an Augustan oath from Samos due to its fragmentary nature (on the oaths, see also Bömer 1966; Harris 1982; Herrmann 1968). For the Augustan oath at Samos, see Herrmann 1960: nos. 1–3 (for other oaths to Tiberius and Gaius, see Mitford 1960 (Cyprus, to Tiberius); FIRA no. 102 = Johnson no. 160 (Assos, A.D. 37); FIRA no. 101 = Johnson no. 161 = Sherk no. 41 (Aritium, A.D. 37). 118 ILS 8781 = IGRR III.137 = OGIS 532) = Johnson no. 149 (Gangra of Paphlagonia, 3 B.C.). The text actually specifies a place in Gangra where the oath was to be taken, but unfortunately the stone is damaged at this point, only preserving one letter (line 4). Two reconstructions, the a)gorai= (place of assembly or market place?) and the Kaisarei/wi have been suggested (for the alternatives, see Herrmann 1968:97 n. 26). 119 For the view that Neoclaudiopolis was probably on the site of Pompey’s Neapolis (and thus confirming that urban life had not yet taken root), see Magie 1950:I.546–7, II.1067–8. 120 My translation, adapted from Braund no. 548. 115

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each made their oaths in the Augustan Temple of Neapolis, the preamble states that the oath was sworn both by all the inhabitants of Paphlagonia and by the Roman businessmen among them.121 Their designation as inhabitants (katoike/w) is significant, since it is a term commonly employed to identify rural settlers of Anatolia in contrast to citizens or élite members of society, thus revealing something of the status of the population and settlements of Paphlagonia.122 A second Augustan oath has been partially preserved from the island of Samos.123 Rather than the oath itself, most of what survives are the details for the procession and the ceremonies that accompanied it. The citizens enjoyed processions, sacrifices, and a public banquet before swearing an oath of imperial loyalty in the presence of the civic authorities. Even an embassy was sent to Augustus to make known the occasion. The connexion between the oath and the imperial cult are clear as the leader of the embassy was the priest of Augustus, Gaius Caesar, and Marcus Agrippa (lines 20–3).124 A third oath from Cyprus, this one to Tiberius, deserves at least a passing comment because in it the participants actually swear to hearken (u9pakou/sesqai), to obey (peiqarxh/sein), to be loyal (eu0noh/sein), and to worship (seba&sesqai) Tiberius and his entire household (lines 11–15).125 These handful of inscriptions, preserved only by accident of survival and discovery, provide important evidence for what quickly became common practice throughout the Roman Empire.126

––––––––––––––––– 121

The conclusion similarly states that the oath was taken by all the people of the region, but unfortunately the text is damaged on two crucial words from the end of lines 37 and 38, which have been reconstructed tentatively as ‘country-side’ and ‘district’: ‘all those in the country-side in the district temples of Augustus beside the altars of Augustus’ (lines 37–9, my translation). 122 Mitchell 1993:I.92. Mitchell 1993:I.102 n. 18 rightly challenges the notion that the imperial cult was merely an urban phenomenon, concluding instead that the oath would have circulated throughout the remote regions of Paphlagonia (contra Price 1984b:79,267). Other inscriptions, in fact, reveal not only the provincial imperial cult, but also locally authorised civic cults of Rome and the emperor throughout Asia Minor (see Mitchell 1993:I.100–2). 123 For the text and discussion of this oath, see Herrmann 1960:(nos. 1–3), who dates it tentatively to 6/5 B.C. (cf. Herrmann 1968:95). Interestingly, this inscription speaks of imperial good news in the singular (eu0ange/lion) (line 7). 124 See further Herrmann 1960:76–7. 125 For the text and discussion, see Mitford 1960. 126 This final point is also confirmed in the oath sworn to Augustus in Rome (Augustus Res Gestae 25.2). For the two remaining oaths, both to the Emperor Gaius (SIG3 797, from Assos; ILS 190, from Aritium in Lusitania), see Weinstock 1962.

Conclusions

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Conclusions At the risk of oversimplification and perhaps even gross generalisation, in this chapter we have briefly sketched the rise and proliferation of the imperial cult in the Roman Empire. We have attempted to piece together disjointed gobbets of information from literary sources, coins, and archaeological remains including, of course, the epigraphic record, and from them to set out some conclusions about the nature of the imperial cult. Although classicists are by no means in total agreement on these issues, the evidence we have analysed at least suggests the following conclusions.127 First, the imperial cult pervaded all of life and not merely the specified times of ‘worship’.128 Thus, the cult and its ideology were a integrated system involving religion and shared values within society. Secondly, the cult was different from anything else that had existed before the principate, such as the Hellenistic ruler cults. That it operated both on the civic and provincial levels only underlines the uniqueness of the cult.129 Thirdly, the cult provided, encouraged, and sometimes even compelled all classes to participate at some level.130 Moreover, aside from any civic obligations to participate in the imperial cult, attending the public imperial feasts, processions, and games, would have been attractive to all classes. Finally, the cult did not fizzle out after Augustus, but even gathered pace throughout the Julio-Claudian period. If these conclusions are granted, then the implications for NT study in general and Pauline studies in particular are worth serious consideration (even if we might be more reluctant than others to describe this endeavour as a ‘fresh perspective’ on Paul).131 We can no longer be satisfied with the reluctance of some scholars to acknowledge that the imperial cult is a proper backdrop from which to discuss the NT writings. But what, if anything, does the imperial cult have to do with the province of Galatia, or, for that matter, with Paul’s letter to the Galatians? We must now determine the extent to which the Galatian province was affected by imperial rule, and in due course explore how impor––––––––––––––––– 127

Here I am much indebted to the helpful essay by the Heidelberg classicist, G. Alföldy (Alföldy 1996). 128 For this point, see also Meggitt 2002:151–3 and Oakes 2001:130. 129 See Price 1984b:56; Deininger 1965:esp. 189–90. 130 We have omitted from our discussion the associations of ex-slaves devoted to the imperial cult (augustales), which were common not only in Rome, but also in the colonies (Price 1984b:88; see further Alföldy 1996:255). 131 Wright 2002:here 191: ‘When we set Paul’s gospel… against the context of the widespread and increasing Caesar-cult of his day, with all that it implied, we discover a fresh perspective, a new angle on familiar passages, which informs and to an extent modifies traditional readings’ (emphasis added). See now the subtitle of his most recent monograph (Wright 2005), which is the published version of the Hulsean Lectures at Cambridge delivered in 2004.

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tant this backdrop might be for our understanding of the crisis within Paul’s Galatian churches. In order to do this, however, we turn our attention in the following chapter to the founding and expansion of the imperial cult in the province of Galatia.

Chapter 3(WUNT), rev. 15:05; 12/1/07

Chapter 3

Imperial Cult and Ideology in Galatia The Roman citizens who were under the military oath of allegiance to me numbered about 500,000. I settled somewhat more than 300,000 of these veterans in colonies or dismissed them to their home towns, and to all these I designated land or gave money as rewards for – Augustus Res Gestae 3.3 their military service.1

Introduction In the previous chapter we observed that emperor worship and imperial ideology transformed society on a myriad of levels and in many places across the Empire. Aside from only one sliver of evidence, however, we refrained from garnering evidence from within Galatia.2 If the imperial cult and its ideology was planted firmly and became intertwined into the fabric of society across the Empire, we must now ask the question: Did they also take root in Galatia, and if so, to what degree did they affect the cultural and religious landscape of the province? The aim of this chapter is to provide an answer to this question. Again, we shall limit ourselves to evidence that can be dated to the time of the Julio-Claudian emperors. As in Chapter 2, we shall analyse evidence from documentary sources, archaeology, and numismatics, in an attempt to piece together how the imperial cult and ideology became the building blocks upon which Galatia developed and flourished. As we begin, however, we must bear in mind that Augustus did not establish Galatia from an existing region where Roman (and in many places even Greek) influence had already found its way into the region. Central Anatolia was by no means just another Achaia or Macedonia, where the chessboard of the imperial game had already been set. Augustus was owner, architect, and contractor in that he conceived, created, and built Galatia basically from scratch. In order to understand the rapid development of the province, it is therefore helpful to place it in the broader perspective of the Greek East. We remember, for example, that by the time Octavian received the name Augus––––––––––––––––– 1

‘Millia civium Romanorum sub sacramento meo fuerunt circiter quingenta. Ex quibus deduxi in colonias aut remisi in municipia sua stipendis emeritis millia aliquanto plura quam trecenta, et iis omnibus agros adsignavi aut pecuniam pro praemiis militiae dedi’ (my translation). 2 See p. 41 above.

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tus in 27 B.C., Bithynia and Asia had already established a provincial imperial cult,3 whereas Galatia was still not even a province, but only a tiny indigenous region in north-central Anatolia. By the time Augustus became father of the country in 2 B.C., however, the entire region of central Anatolia had been incorporated into the new province of Galatia, and she already rivalled Asia and Bithynia in terms of the number of Roman colonies and of cities with an organised cult of the divine family. Imperial ideology could be observed almost at every turn in travelling from one Galatian city to the next. The imperial cult was very active on the provincial and local levels, and it had become an integral part of society in cities of the North and South. Before we can discuss how imperial ideology and the imperial cult flourished in Galatia, we must therefore provide in the first instance a brief sketch of the province at its earliest stage of development. This exercise will give us some idea of the environment in which imperial ideology was soon to take root. We will then determine the effect imperial ideology and cult had on the province, and by the end of this study, we hope to be in a position to come to some conclusions regarding the reception of the imperial cult and ideology in Galatia during the Julio-Claudian period.

A. The Creation of a Roman Province For our present purposes, King Amyntas (39–25 B.C.) must be our starting point.4 By the end of his reign, he had succeeded in expanding his jurisdiction throughout all of central Anatolia and even as far south as the Mediterranean Sea. In addition to his military successes, Amyntas had a penchant for shrewd political manoeuvring. Although he had fought with Antony at Actium (31 B.C.), the King shifted sides to the victor Octavian swiftly enough to become one of only two dynasts who was allowed to retain his kingdom (Dio Hist. LI.2.1; 7.4).5 Just short of expanding his rule over the whole of central and southern Anatolia, however, Amyntas was killed in 25 B.C. while fighting against the Homonadeis, the unruly tribe of southern Anatolia (Strabo Geogr. XII.6.3).6 At Amyntas’s death, Augustus was suddenly faced with a political vacuum in central Anatolia, which needed to be plugged lest the crucial region fall into political unrest. Strabo tells us that shortly after Amyntas was killed, the ––––––––––––––––– 3

See p. 26 above. For a history of pre-Augustan ethnic Galatia, see Sherk ANRW II.7.2.954–60 (cf. Hansen 1994:377–95). 5 For a discussion of the client kings during the reign of Augustus, see Bowersock 1965:42–61. 6 On the possibility that Amyntas was killed before 25 B.C., see Levick 1971:483. 4

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priesthood of the god Mên Askaênos in Pisidian Antioch was uprooted by Roman officials sent over to deal with the inheritance (klhronomi/an) (Geog. XII.8.14). Whether Cassius Dio’s statement suggests Amyntas had officially bequeathed his entire kingdom to Augustus remains an open question.7 Regardless of the method of transfer, however, we can be certain both that the entire region was left into Rome’s hands and that there was seemingly no local protest regarding the decision (we shall even observe that Amyntas’s son would later serve on two occasions as high priest of the provincial imperial cult). Augustus established Provincia Galatia (Dio Hist. LIII.26.3), which would seem only natural, as the ability to reinforce the solidarity between the West and the Near East largely depended on the solidity of the bridge between them – central Anatolia.8 ––––––––––––––––– 7

Because inscriptional evidence reveals at least two imperial slaves in Rome with the cognomen Amyntianus (CIL VI.2.4035; 2.8894), some scholars have suggested that some of the royal slaves of Amyntas passed over to the imperial household (Mitchell 1993:I.61–2; Ramsay 1917:234–5; cf. the opposing view of Magie 1950:II.1304 n. 3, who is perhaps too dismissive of the evidence). On the topic of royal wills and Rome, see now Braund 1983:esp. 41–2. 8 On the technical name of the province (Provincia Galatica), see Magie 1950:II.1305–6. Levick 1967:29–32 has resolved the well-known discrepancy between Dio Hist. LIII.26.3 and Strabo Geog. XII.5.1 regarding the regions that were included in the annexation. Most ancient historians now agree that Galatia originally included ethnic Galatia, the Anatolian plateau of East Phrygia and Lycaonia, the Pisido-Phrygian area around Pisidian Antioch and Apollonia, the mountainous tribal region of Isauria and Pisidia, and the Pamphylian plain (for the provincial boundaries of Galatia during the time of Claudius, see fig. 1, p. 55 below). The precise date of the formation of the Galatian province bristles with problems. The traditional view has been that the Galatian province was formed in the same year of Amyntas’s death in 25 B.C. Sir W. Ramsay was the first to upset this consensus by bringing into the discussion a coin from Tavium during the reign of Septimus Severus (A.D. 193–211) that honours his son Caracalla (for the coin, see BMC Galatia 23). The obverse legend mentions the title Antonius K(aiser), which would date the coin no earlier than the year A.D. 196, when Caracalla first took the name Antonius. It must also have been issued by A.D. 198, the year in which Caracalla’s father gave him the name Augustus (to replace Kaiser). Because the reverse displays the local year 218, this would put the formation of Tavium (and thus, as Ramsay argued, the province) between the years 22–20 B.C. Because the first legate M. Lollius was in Rome as consul in 21 B.C., Ramsay concluded the province was formed in the year 20 B.C. (Ramsay 1939:203; Ramsay 1941:92–3). Of course, Ramsay’s own solution is impossible since we also know that Lollius was in Thrace from 20–18 B.C. (Levick 1967:193). Several ancient historians have therefore argued that the coin in question represented only a local formation date and not the date of the province, thus re-affirming the traditional year of 25 B.C. (Magie 1950:II.1306 n. 5; Levick 1967:193–4; Sherk ANRW II.7.2.956–9 n. 14; 963). Other scholars have proposed a compromise by placing the province’s birth somewhere between 23–22 B.C., such as Halfmann 1986:35–40, who has recently argued that the creation of the province might have corresponded with Agrippa’s campaign in the East (23–21 B.C.). More recently, however, Leschhorn 1992:esp. 324–32 has argued a strong case for the traditional date by utilising three pieces of fresh evidence. After arguing that the Tavium coin in

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1. Creating Colonies and Cities The formation of the province naturally included the arrival of a Roman administrator. In a more secure environment, a member of the senate would have been selected by lot to govern the region as proconsul. In the light of the unruly Homonadeis in the South, however, Augustus dispatched a legate, Marcus Lollius, to serve as his legate (Eutropius 7.10).9 Augustus also created cities and colonies across the province. In the North, he formed the cities of Ancyra, Tavium, and Pessinus from the three local Galatian tribes (Tectosages, Trocmi, and Tolistobogii respectively), and he founded the colony of Germa.10 These four cities were meant primarily to strengthen the administrative centre of the province, especially as Ancyra (Amyntas’s former capital) had become the provincial seat. Indeed, these cities flourished as urban centres during the Julio-Claudian period, which is striking when we consider that until this time the region had been devoid of any significant Graeco-Roman civic life.11 An even more systematic strategy, however, can be observed in the South. It has traditionally been thought that here Augustus established five colonies – at Pisidian Antioch,12 Comama, Cremna, Olbasa, and Parlais – and that Pisidian Antioch was founded at the time of the province while the others were formed later (perhaps 6 B.C.).13 We can now safely add at least three other ––––––––––––––––– question cannot be dated to the year 23/22 B.C., but rather to 21/20 B.C., he utilises other relevant coins and inscriptions to argue that 21 B.C. represented the (local) year in which Augustus (who at that time was in the East) formed the city of Tavium from the local Trocmi. Lechhorn thus holds the traditional date of the Galatian province (25 B.C.) while arguing a convincing case for the local foundation date of Tavium being 21/20 B.C. 9 The Roman provinces were governed either by proconsuls chosen by lot from the Senate or by legati Augusti pro praetore chosen directly by the emperor. According to Cassius Dio, the emperor employed the two names ‘consul’ and ‘praetor’ because they were traditionally associated with peaceful duties and warfare respectively. This meant that an ex-consul could serve as pro praetor or even an ex-praetor as pro consul (Hist. LIII.13–14). M. Lollius was of praetorian rank, as were most of the known Galatian legates during the Julio-Claudian period (for the legates of Galatia to A.D. 114, see Sherk ANRW II.7.2.1040–4, with updates in Mitchell 1986:20–7 and Leschhorn 1992:336). 10 On the Augustan date of Germa, see Mitchell 1974:29 (contra Levick 1967:34, who stated that this colony was not created until the time of Domitian). 11 See further Mitchell 1993:I.87–9. 12 The official name of the colony was Colonia Caesarea (Pliny HN 5.94). Ramsay 1930:264 suggested that the name Caesarea came from Amyntas, who had already given the imperial name to Antioch. Although Antioch was not technically in Pisidia, it was popularly called Pisidian Antioch (e.g. Acts 13.14). Ancient authors sometimes were more precise: ‘Antioch toward Pisidia’ because of its geographical orientation towards Pisidia (cf. Strabo Geogr. XII.3.31; 6.4; 8.14). 13 E.g. Ramsay 1930:264; Jones 1971:135.

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Augustan colonies to this group: Iconium, Lystra,14 and Ninica.15 Iconium is especially significant to point out because most NT scholars continue to presume that the Iconian colony was formed by Hadrian (A.D. 117–38) as merely an honorific title without any change of population or any significant Latin influence.16 Moreover, it is likely that this entire web of colonies was spun at the time of Galatia’s formation, with each colony receiving a significant number of retired veterans (thus comprising the colonies of the Pisidian region that Augustus boasted of settling in his Res Gestae 28).17 If one adds to this number the other settlements of coloni (i.e. Greek cities with a group of Roman citizens living within them) in the southern cities of Apollonia, Neapolis, Isaura, and Attaleia,18 the tally of new city foundations or colonial settlements within the province comes to sixteen, nine of which were full coloniae. One should bear in mind that this rather swollen number does not include the city reformations that occurred later under Tiberius and Claudius.19 If the number of Augustan foundations in Galatia seems striking, we might also note that the whole enterprise belonged to an innovative approach to colonisation. Planting Roman colonies outside of Italy was a relatively new phenomenon, and until this time it had been unprecedented for Rome to resettle a city so far inland from the Mediterranean coast.20 Here we shall suggest that Augustus settled these colonies for at least two reasons: (1) to provide ––––––––––––––––– 14

Levick 1967:37. See Mitchell 1979:esp. 426–35 (contra Levick 1967:37, who believed Ninica to have been founded by Domitian). 16 This view may be traced back to Ramsay 1905:413–15 (cf. Ramsay 1900:218–19; Ramsay 1922:173; followed by Magie 1950:II.1484; Levick 1967:165). That Iconium was a colony before the time of Hadrian is now shown clearly from two recently published Iconian coins (von Aulock nos. 297–9, with discussion on pp. 56–8), which refer to the city as a colony during the reigns of Vespasian (69–70) and Titus (79–81). Furthermore, because the legend on the Vespasian coin reads COL IVL AVG, which is identical to the Augustan colonies of Germa and Ninica, it is virtually certain that the Iconian colony was founded by Augustus. Unfortunately, this fresh evidence has not yet been incorporated into much of NT scholarship, such as Gasque ABD III.357–8, whose bibliography reveals that he was still working from the pioneering, but now outdated, results of Ramsay. What is more, Mitchell 1979:esp. 409–25, here 414, argues that this fresh evidence ‘not only throws fresh light on Augustan colonial policy in south Galatia but makes it necessary to reconsider much of the other evidence from Iconium’ that was once supposed to have come from the time of Hadrian. For example, it is now clear that an Iconian inscription mentioning an imperial high priest of Claudiconium could possibly be dated at least as early as the time of Claudius (for the text, see Cronin 1902:123 no. 55). 17 In support of an earlier date of these colonies, see esp. Levick 1967:33–8; Mitchell 1993:I.76–7. 18 See Mitchell 1993:I.77. 19 For two other possible Augustan colonies, Trebenna and Balbura, see Mitchell 1993:I.76 n. 69 (with references). 20 Levick 1967:6. 15

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land to discharged veterans and (2) to set the province on a trajectory of Romanisation.21 2. Linking the Colonies the ‘Augustan Way’ In a newly-created province planted in the heartland of central Anatolia, of course, it would not suffice simply to send a handpicked legate and to scatter colonies like seeds across the provincial mainland. Although Hellenistic roads, such as the Cilician Road, travelled in or near some of these Augustan foundations, new and better roads would need to be built to connect these otherwise isolated cities. In southern Galatia Augustus therefore laid a splendid Roman road network of some four hundred Roman miles. According to existing milestones the project was headed up under the legate Cornutus Arruntius Aquila in 6 B.C., and the road was called the via Sebaste.22 The remaining milestones also give us some indication as to its route, which we believe connected the colonies of the South (fig. 1). It began in Perge and travelled northwest through Colonia Comama and Apollonia before it finally reached Pisidian Antioch. From there the road turned southward to Neapolis before one branch forked east (via Pappa) to Iconium (and presumably to Lystra) while the other continued south to the city of Mistea (presumably heading to the coast at Side).23 D. H. French has discussed several road types in antiquity.24 The via Sebaste belonged to the premier tier, a Roman highway averaging more than three and one-half metres in width and therefore sufficient to carry wheeled vehicles.25 These roads were soon to become significant for the economic and cultural development of the province. For the time being, however, there was a much more pressing function both for laying the via Sebaste and for setting up the colonies in this region – to build a defence in southern Anatolia against the native Homonadeis. The southern colonies had been strategically placed to provide a capable defence; the roads would have allowed swift travel of the Roman military among them.26 ––––––––––––––––– 21 Levick 1967:5, 33–8 (cf. Salmon 1969:144 for Julius Caesar’s strategy of colonizing outside of Italy). 22 For a catalogue of the published milestones from the via Sebaste, see French ANRW II.7.2.707, 714–15, 727 (cf. the preliminary study of Cronin 1902:109–10). 23 French 1994:52 (cf. Levick 1967:37–8). 24 Cf. French 1974; French 1994. 25 Mitchell 1993:70, who also noted that this road system was unlike the narrow and often stepped Hellenistic roads, which were not suitable for wheeled vehicles (cf. French ANRW II.7.2.698–729). 26 Of these colonies, pride of place went to Lystra: ‘It was Ramsay’s opinion that all six of the colonies were intended for the suppression of the Homanadenses; this number should be reduced to one: Lystra’ (Levick 1967:52; cf. Hall 1971:157–8). Cremna and Isaura, on the

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Figure 1. The via Sebaste at 6 B.C. (Adapted from Mitchell 1993:II.map 6)

3. Tranquillising the Taurus A battle for the South was, after all, inevitable. Galatia and the surrounding region would not be able to prosper under peaceful provincial administration so long as the unruly tribes of the southern Taurus were still strong.27 Augustus had already transferred legio VII to Antioch. This legion had fought with Augustus at Mutina (43 B.C.), Philippi (42 B.C.), in the Perusine War (40 B.C.), and at Sicily against Sextus Pompeius (36 B.C.). Along with this military outfit, we can piece together from inscriptional evidence that at least two cohorts and three auxiliary units had been dispatched to assist in garrisoning the region.28 ––––––––––––––––– other hand, served as the only clear offensive sites (Mitchell 1993:I.74–7). On the military traffic on the via Sebaste, see Levick 1967:40. 27 Ramsay 1922:148 actually stated that as heir to Amyntas, Augustus was bequeathed with a duty to finish the military campaign that the deceased King had begun. That Augustus took seriously his war against the Homonadeis was more likely political in nature – being a Roman province meant subscribing to a Roman way of life. For the most thorough account of the war (despite many of his outdated details), see Ramsay 1917. 28 The cohorts were Cohors Apula, cohors I Hispanorum. The other auxiliary units were ala Augusta Germaniciana, ala Antiochiensium (i.e. troops who were drawn from Antioch),

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Probably for various practical reasons, the war did not actually begin until 5 B.C. when Augustus appointed Publius Sulpicius Quirinius to complete what Amyntas had been unable to accomplish.29 We should note that the war was no skirmish. It probably lasted for at least two years, and for good reason, especially when one considers the mountainous terrain in which the battles were conducted. Strabo tells us that the Roman army finally overcame the tribe, scattering four thousand of the defeated survivors throughout the region (Geogr. XII.6.5). Rome did not pass out accolades after every campaign, but this one was apparently worth public recognition since Quirinius was awarded with the highest honour for military achievement, an ornamenta triumphalia (Tacitus Ann. III.48). More importantly for our purposes, the pax Romana that Augustus inaugurated across the Empire had now brought peace to this entire region that would endure for the next three centuries.30 For the first time these regions would be ruled under one administrative system. Furthermore, Augustus’s successors (particularly Tiberius and Claudius) would continue to remain active in this region. The via Sebaste, while still providing military transport when needed, became a central element in commercial endeavours and private mobility among these burgeoning colonies (and was the likely route of Paul’s ––––––––––––––––– ala I Augusta Colonorum (see Mitchell 1993:I.73–8). In this regard, Ramsay 1939:204 was incorrect to suppose that there were no legions stationed in Galatia. 29 For the date of the war, see Levick 1967:206–13 (cf. Sherk ANRW II.7.2.967–8). Although Ramsay 1939:215–6 has rightly shown that the war could not possibly have ended in under two years, he was probably wrong to state that it must have been conducted between the years 12–6 B.C., i.e. prior to the construction of the via Sebaste (cf. also Cheeseman 1913:257). To be sure, he is probably correct to contend that ‘one cannot conceive why the tribes allowed Roman soldiers to make roads that often led through the most difficult and defensible parts of Taurus’ (215; cf. Ramsay 1917:237–9). The outline of roads making up the via Sebaste, however, could easily have been created before the war, with the remaining segments travelling through the territory of the Homonadeis being constructed only afterwards. Indeed, that Cassius Dio is silent about the war in his account through 6 B.C., coupled with the gap in his history between the years 6–4 B.C., makes it more plausible that the war went on between the years 5–3 B.C. (I am indebted to Levick 1967:213 for this point). Whether Quirinius was legate of Galatia during this time (or at all), however, is indeed another question altogether, which the available evidence is unable to resolve (for the questions surrounding Quirinius’s political career in Galatia and Syria, see, for example, the differing views of Ramsay 1917:273–5; cf. Ramsay 1939:220 and Levick 1967:206–10). Quirinius was not likely a legate of Galatia at all but served only as military general during the war. This hypothesis is supported by the fact that he was honorary duumvir of Antioch (Cheeseman 1913:258 no. 3), which would suggest that he held no official administrative role as legate (despite the unsubstantiated assertion of Ramsay 1917:245 that M. Servilius, another person holding an honorary duumvir, also was governor of Galatia). 30 Levick 1967:38–41, see also 203–14. Cassius Dio (Hist. LV.28.2–3) notes the Isaurian uprising of A.D. 6, which was put down quickly and decisively. Any residual aftershocks of local rebellion were therefore short lived.

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travels within Galatia according to Acts 13–14).31 The subjugation of the mountainous tribes of the Taurus should not be underestimated among Augustus’s successes. The pax Romana that trickled down even to this remote region of central Anatolia became the vehicle for spreading imperial ideology throughout the cities of Galatia.

B. Reception of Imperial Ideology We have already observed in the previous chapter how civic space was transformed to make room for the emperor. Urban cities advertised their adoption of imperial ideology (and their wealth) by erecting buildings, temples, and other monuments.32 Here we might recall Aelius Aristides’s famous declamation to Rome in the early second century, in which he explained how the Empire had surpassed all previous kingdoms by introducing a successful civil administration throughout the vast areas under her power: For when were there so many cities by land and sea? When have they been adorned with all things? Did ever a person living back then drive through counting the number of cities by the days (of travel), sometimes even driving through two or three cities as if it were a single boulevard (stenwpw~n)? … Now all the Greek cities rise up because of you, and all their dedicatory monuments and embellishments and adornments belong to your honour as beautiful suburbs. The headlands and the coasts as well as the mainland are overflowing with cities, some founded as colonies or settlements and others increased because of you and by you.33

Such a description could have been made of Galatia in microcosm. The Galatian economy, to be sure, would continue to be sustained by the agricultural staples of wool and corn.34 In addition, much of the rural regions and local populations of Anatolia would continue to speak their native languages and to worship their traditional gods/goddesses, seemingly unaffected by the Roman presence. Their adoption of imperial ideology, however, seems to have been swift and thorough among the newly-established cities across the province. Indeed, we shall see that this trajectory would reach a whole new level by the mid-first century A.D. Although for various reasons our archaeological data is limited in many of the colonies of Galatia (Roman Iconium, for example, still rests under the modern city of Konya), our evidence is by no means inadequate. Three domi––––––––––––––––– 31

Levick 1967:41. For this phenomenon outside of Galatia, see, e.g., Reynolds 1982; Roueché and Erim 1990–6 (Aphrodisias). 33 Ael. Arist. To Rome 93–4 (my translation). For text, translation, and commentary, see Oliver 1953; cf. Pausanias Desc. of Greece X.3.4. 34 For a fuller discussion of the land and economy in Galatia, see Mitchell 1993:I.143–7 (cf. Mitchell ANRW II.7.2.1068–70; Hansen 1994:esp. 385–7). 32

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nating imperial temples from this period in Ancyra, Pessinus, and Pisidian Antioch have left behind significant evidence for our understanding of the cult in Galatia, which we shall discuss shortly. In the first instance, however, we must first cast the net wider in order to assess other ways in which the cities of Galatia responded to imperial rule. Of these cities, the most recent archaeological work has been undertaken in Antioch, both under the leadership of the former Yalvaç Museum Director M. Tasçlıalan (whose own 1993 Ph.D. thesis for Selçuk University of Konya has provided a fresh analysis of the imperial temple complex in Pisidian Antioch) and with the expert involvement of the Anatolian specialist now at Exeter University, Professor S. Mitchell (whose publications represent the latest scholarship on Galatia).35 We will therefore focus our discussion on Pisidian Antioch in order to test the extent to which imperial ideology was received at least in one colony of Galatia. 1. Urbanising the Colonies: Pisidian Antioch as a Test Case South Galatia was generally defined by a distinctly arid climate, which one would successfully escape upon arriving at the entrance to Pisidian Antioch. Upon entering the city, newcomers might well be startled by the fountains of fresh water, which from a series of stepped basins trickled like a gentle waterfall down the middle of the street.36 Of course, this purely aesthetic arrangement was meant to make one forget the natural climate – to step inside the walls of Pisidian Antioch was to leave the wilderness of central Anatolia and to step into a new (Roman) creation. Indeed, if from the city gate one gazed into the distance to the end of the road, one would catch site of a towering propylon (gateway) leading to the imperial temple. After doglegging to the right, this thoroughfare travelled east (decumanus maximus) past a theatre before it finally junctioned with the opposite-running street (cardo maximus).37 We know from two honorary inscriptions that the cardo maximus was named the Augusta platea and that both roads were paved sometime during the first half of the first century A.D.38 A third inscription ––––––––––––––––– 35

E.g. Mitchell 1993:I–II; Mitchell and Waelkens 1998. For a comprehensive archaeological history of Pisidian Antioch, see Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:19–35. 36 The street itself was rather wide (between six and seven and one-half metres), and excavations have shown that it conveniently concealed one of Antioch’s primary drains. The road ran for about 320 metres through the middle of the city (Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:101–2). 37 Although archaeologists have not confirmed when the original theatre was built, it dates either to the foundation of the colony or even earlier during the Hellenistic period. During Diocletian’s reign (A.D. 284–305) it was expanded (see Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:108). 38 Since the first inscription was published by Ramsay 1916:106 no. 6, it has often been assumed that the word platei=a implied it was an open square. Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:219–20 have now pointed out, however, that in the early imperial period platei=a (short for platei=a o9do/j) meant a road and not a square. The second inscription was origi-

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reveals that there was a second platea, this one named for the Emperor Tiberius.39 The name platei=a attached to these two main streets suggests that they would have been colonnaded and lined with various shops.40 What is more, both of the main thoroughfares were decorated with various buildings and monuments, such as the remains we have for a fountain house41 and a basilica (or podium) displaying honorary statues.42 The emperor and his family stood at the climax (literally) of all public honours in Antioch. Among the remaining fragments of several large statues, for example, are two colossal heads of Augustus, one of which was shaped from fine Parian marble (and resembles the Prima Porta statue type) and would have originally belonged to a towering statue over eight feet tall.43 After four hundred metres of various shops, buildings, and monuments, at the top of the Augusta platea stood a nymphaeum, a decorative building meant to conceal the main water reservoir.44 Even Antioch’s aqueduct was a stunning site. This aqueduct was usefully conspicuous, as forty-four robust arches (many of which are still standing today) traversed the otherwise desiccated countryside.45 For any passer-by who caught sight of these decorative arches, it would have been clear that nearby was an imperial city (fig. 2). ––––––––––––––––– nally published by the excavator Robinson 1926a:235 no. 71 (plate 41) and has now been discussed more fully in Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:221. 39 For this well-known inscription, which records an edict in A.D. 93 against grain hoarding, see the simultaneous publications of Ramsay 1924 and Robinson 1924. Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:220 have recently suggested that this street (Tiberia platea) corresponds not to the whole of the decumanus maximus, but only to the section between the main intersection and the propylon. 40 Although the streets were almost certainly colonnaded soon after the street was paved, the limited evidence we have cannot confirm this suggestion (see Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:101–2). Because the Augusta platea grew wider towards the north end of the street, some archaeologists have believed that the road led to a civic forum (Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:101). 41 Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:102 (referring to Tasçlıalan 1995:288–9). 42 The architrave of this building preserves (albeit poorly) a Latin inscription on both sides, first published by Ramsay 1930:274 no. 4. Although it has undergone further assessment and minor corrections by Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:224, both commentators believe the structure to have an early first-century date. 43 Ramsay 1930:253; Robinson 1926d:125–36. 44 The nymphaeum is usually dated to the Augustan period because it seems unlikely that the water reservoir would have been expanded without a nymphaeum to conceal such an unattractive building (Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:197). 45 The water source was a cold spring some ten kilometres north of the city, and it brought to Antioch approximately 3,000 m3 of water each day. The most recent study on the aqueduct is by Burdy and Tasçlıalan 1997 (cf. Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:175–94). That the aqueduct is Roman rather than Hellenistic may be seen in at least three Roman features: (1) the underground channel and manholes, which are evenly spaced along the route of the aqueduct, (2)

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Much more still remains to be uncovered and/or identified at Antioch. At the northwest corner of the city, for example, excavations are currently being conducted on a large bathhouse, an exercise ground, and an entire gymnasium complex.46 Even from a preliminary architectural overview of Pisidian Antioch, however, we can safely conclude that the foundation of the colony brought with it a profound transformation of civic space. According to the archaeological record, even the Hellenistic foundations of Pisidian Antioch seem to have been gutted and remodelled completely to make room for the Roman presence, which would explain not only the street formation and the Roman buildings, but also the various statues and inscriptions honoring prominent citizens and the imperial family that paraded the streets of Antioch during the Julio-Claudian period.

Figure 2. The aqueduct of Pisidian Antioch (Kelsey Archive 7.1224. Courtesy of the Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, University of Michigan)

Imperial ideology emanated strongly from the civic space of Pisidian Antioch, but we must also note that her constitutional structure did as well. Surviving inscriptions have revealed that the colony followed the regular pattern of Roman magistracies, including duoviri, duoviri quinquennales, aediles, and

––––––––––––––––– the architecture of the aqueduct, and (3) the Roman measurements that seem to have been employed consistently. 46 Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:198–9.

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quaestors.47 The purely remarkable feature in Antioch, to be sure, is not the simple existence of these offices, but that some of them were bestowed upon members of the imperial family, such as Drusus (Tiberius’s son),48 Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus (Nero’s father),49 and even the distantly related L. Cornelius Sulla Felix (Germanicus’s son-in-law).50 This phenomenon clearly demonstrates the close relationship between the Julio-Claudian family and this Galatian colony.51 If the imperial message was etched on the civic and constitutional structures of Antioch, the story of Rome was also stamped on coins. We noted in the previous chapter that the bearing of the emperor’s image on coins was a significant change that the rule of the emperor brought to the Roman world. We should therefore not be surprised that the coinage from Pisidian Antioch (despite being poorly preserved and unsystematically documented during this period) displayed the emperor’s image.52 What has been overlooked completely in recent studies, however, is a coin type originating from Antioch that displayed the sidus Iulium, which, as we have observed, became the cosmological sign of the new age under Augustus.53 One such issue displays the sidus Iulium on the reverse with a large eagle (symbolising either Rome’s military presence or perhaps even the city of Rome) on the obverse.54 ––––––––––––––––– 47

We can also be sure that elected citizens would have held some of the traditional Greek offices (e.g. gymnasiarchs, agonothetae, grammateis), which regularly functioned in Latin cities across the empire (Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:8). 48 CIL III Supp. 1.6843 = ILS 7201. 49 CIL III Supp. 1.6809 = ILS 2696. 50 Robinson 1926a:225–6 no. 51; PIR2 C 1465). Felix was consul in A.D. 33 (Dio Hist. LVIII.20). Two Augustan generals, P. Sulpicius Quirinius and M. Servilius, also held honorary magistracies in Antioch (for Quirinius, see n. 29 above; for Servilius, see ILS 9502; Ramsay 1917:273). 51 These honorary magistracies might also explain in part the splendid building programme in the early provincial era, as the imperial family may well have reciprocated the bestowal of these honours with munificent benefactions (Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:10– 11). 52 See e.g. RPC 3529–30. Krzyzanowska has provided the most detailed study of Antioch’s coinage, but she focuses almost exclusively on the more numerous coin issues from the third and fourth centuries A.D. 53 See p. 29 above. 54 I owe this rather surprising find to a passing comment in Robinson 1926c:33 n. 50 on the related topic of the eight-rayed sidus relief on the propylon, at which point he mentions the rather forgotten article of Hill 1914:300 regarding a star on the coinage of Pisidian Antioch. After chasing up this reference and then comparing it with another forlorn study by Imhoof-Blumer 1908:29 nos. 1, 3–4, I confirmed that there are indeed at least three Antiochene issues with the star as the centre symbol. Although there are no images of Augustus on these issues, the eagle, as a Roman military symbol, supports the Augustan period, and probably very early on in the history of the Roman colony. Unfortunately, these important

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Finally, we can observe that Antioch drew some of her inspiration directly from the city of Rome. It comes as little surprise that as a Roman colony Pisidian Antioch was organised into local tribes (e.g. tribus Romana). Somewhat more striking are those surviving inscriptions revealing that the Augustan colony was divided into at least seven geographical divisions called vici (wards). In this light, the numerous honorary inscriptions confirm that the tribus and the vicus clearly functioned separately as they did in Rome, the former existing purely for voting purposes and the latter playing a significant role in the civic life of the colony.55 On this topic, B. Levick has already noted that the existence of tribus and vici alongside one another illustrates the intentions of those who planned the colony: to create a little Rome … whose districts, whose very voting procedures, were to remind the settlers of the city they represented, its institutions and preoccupations.56

An even more striking connexion with the city of Rome is that many of these vici shared the same names as significant topographical landmarks of the Mother City, such as Salutaris, Velabrus, Tuscus, and Cermalus.57 If there were any lingering doubts that Colonia Caesarea (i.e. Pisidian Antioch)58 thoroughly imbibed imperial ideology, this evidence alone should put them to rest. We have not even discussed the distinctly Roman presence in Pisidian Antioch, which is important when we consider that most of the surviving inscriptions are in Latin.59 Only three things need detain us here. First, we should bear in mind that because Augustus settled veterans in the colonies of South Galatia, we should not be surprised to observe a significant Roman influence there.60 In this regard, Levick has remarked that ‘it would be a grave mistake to underestimate the strength of the Italian element at Antioch and to exagger––––––––––––––––– coins have evaded comment in recent discussions on the imperial coinage of Pisidian Antioch, including Krzyzanowska and (more recently) RPC. 55 See Levick 1965:57–9. The only other colony of southern Galatia to leave traces of this division is Antioch’s sister colony of Lystra (Levick 1967:76). 56 Levick 1967:78. By way of comparison, we also know that Iconium had a tribus Augusta as well as a tribe of Athena Polias, which suggests that the Greek citizens in this city would have functioned separately from the Augustan colony (see Mitchell 1979). 57 Levick 1967:76–7. Two vici are clearly Latin terms (Aedilicius and Patricius). For a catalogue and bibliography of these inscriptions, see now Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:222. 58 See n. 12 above. 59 For a judicious assessment of Latin inscriptions and coins in relation to the degree of a city’s Romanisation, see Levick 1967:esp. 130–9. 60 See Augustus Res Gestae 3.3; 16; 28 (on the direct supervision of Augustus in areas in which he placed veterans, see Millar 1984:50–1; on the topic of imperial payments to retired veterans, see esp. Speidel 1983, who discusses this topic in relation to a veteran’s gravestone found in Galatia and dating to the time of the Emperor Gaius). Levick 1967:29–41, 93–4 estimates that 3,000 veterans (excluding family members) were originally settled in Antioch.

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ate the influence of her Greek and oriental inhabitants’.61 Secondly, it seems that some of the original colonists of Galatia were Roman citizens who had emigrated from Italy for the prospects of social climbing, such as the Caristanii62 and the Sergii, the latter being famous for producing the famous proconsul of Cyprus mentioned in Acts 13.4–12.63 Thirdly, it is significant that some of these Roman families in Galatia not only would go on to play prominent local roles, but also would have significant political careers on the wider Roman stage.64 From this brief sketch, we can conclude that Pisidian Antioch drank freely from the fountains of Rome. Although we cannot confirm that other cities and colonies in Galatia would similarly have received imperial ideology, we should not be overly cautious on this point.65 The finds in Pisidian Antioch are likely more the result of digs and discovery than they are the uniqueness of the colony in comparison with the other cities of Galatia. Indeed, the province remained on an urbanising trajectory throughout the Julio-Claudian period. Aside from the Augustan colonies, other cities were reestablished and renamed because of their civic advances during the reign of Tiberius, such as Pappa Tiberiopolis66 and Germanicopolis (Gangra).67 The strongest grip on Galatia since the time of Augustus, however, doubtless came with Claudius between the years A.D. 49–54. ––––––––––––––––– 61

Levick 1965:59. The Caristanii had even produced several prominent freedmen by the Claudian era. One slave was sold into the imperial service as a procurator, praegustator, and a secretis Augusti, and at his emancipation took the name Tiberius Claudius Epinicus. For a history of the Caristanii, see the seminal work of Cheeseman 1913, to which Ramsay 1939:206–9 (no. 3) added additional evidence. 63 If we are correct to believe that the Sergius Paullus of Cyprus was a native of Pisidian Antioch, then he is the earliest known person from the Greek East to have reached consulship (A.D. 70) (see Halfmann 1979:55–6, 101–2 [nos. 3–4]; Mitchell 1993:I.152 with an updated discussion in Christol and Drew-Bear 2002:esp. 186). Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:9–11 actually suggest the fascinating, if unverifiable, hypothesis that after his conversion Sergius advised Paul to travel to Pisidian Antioch and provided letters of recommendation in order to introduce him to the élite citizens of Antioch. 64 See Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:9–10. Aside from the Sergii and Caristanii in Antioch, we also have the Plancii from Perge as well as the Calpurnii and Paccii, both from Attaleia (Mitchell 1993:I.152–4). Some of the colonial families of Iconium also effected their influence in Roman politics (see further Mitchell 1979:414–15, 420–5; cf. Mitchell ANRW II.7.2.1068). For an detailed analysis of these families, see Ramsay 1939:206–9; Ramsay 1926; Levick 1958:74–8. 65 We do have traces of evidence that would suggest this was the case, such as the Latin legends that have been preserved on the coinage of Lystra (e.g. RPC 3538–40); cf. the Latin magistrates in Parlais, Olbasa, Lystra, Cremna, and Comama [Levick 1967:79–84]). 66 E.g. IGRR III.1469. 67 Mitchell 1993:I.93. 62

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2. (Re-)Founding Galatia: Claudius and His Legate Ancient historians have frequently discussed Claudius’s determination to return to the Augustan model, which had long since been forgotten during the years of Gaius.68 Scholars have also noted Claudius’s devoted attention to the provinces.69 Claudian policy in Galatia exemplified both of these concerns. Inscriptional evidence, for example, informs us that Claudius (not unlike Augustus) turned his attention to the road network in Galatia by rebuilding some of the existing roads under the leadership of his legate M. Arruntius Aquila.70 In addition, at this time an elaborate colonnaded square was constructed in Pessinus, a city that had been completely re-centred around the imperial temple and theatre complex (see below).71 That Claudius effected great changes in Galatia is perhaps seen most emphatically from a dedicatory inscription to him in the southern Taurus region on the southern shore of Lake Trogitis (i.e. the former stronghold of the Homonodeis): Ti(berio) Claudio Caesari Aug(usto) Germanico Sacrum M(arcus) Annius Afr[i]nus leg(atus) eius dedicavit.72

It is worth noting that although the inscription was set up in native territory not particularly close to any of the Roman colonies, it was inscribed in Latin without even a Greek translation. Two additional observations on this text are even more significant for our understanding of Galatia under Claudius. First, the provenance of the stone suggests that the sizeable investment Augustus had made to pacify the Taurus and to bring peace and prosperity to Galatia had paid off; imperial ideology had made its way even into former enemy territory. Because of their urban advances, in fact, several cities across southern Galatia were granted the privilege of adopting the imperial name. We therefore have Claudiconium,73 Claudioderbe,74 Ninica Claudiopolis,75 Claudio––––––––––––––––– 68 Sutherland 1951:126–9, 151–2, for example, discusses the imperial coinage, such as the coin issues of Augustan peace (BMC Claudius 6–7; RIC Claudius 27). We might also note the Secular Games, which Claudius hosted a half-century early in A.D. 47 (conveniently celebrated for the eight hundredth anniversary of Rome). 69 E.g. Magie 1950:I.541, 546–7; Levick 1990:163–86, esp. 177–82. On Claudius as benefactor in the provinces, see esp. Scramuzza 1940. 70 We might also note that in A.D. 43 Claudius reduced the southern borders of Galatia by creating the Lycian province, comprised of Lycia, Pisidia, Pamphylia, and probably Cilicia Tracheia. For the transformation of Sagalassus of Pisidia, see Vandeput 1997:22 (cf. Mitchell 1993:I.78). 71 Waelkens 1986:58–9. 72 CIL III Supp. 1.6799 (also noted in Sherk ANRW II.7.2.976–7; Mitchell 1993:I.66–7, 79). 73 IGRR III.246.

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laodiceia,76 Claudioseleuceia,77 and Claudiocaesareia Mistea.78 These were not merely empty honorific titles: ‘these foundations do not have the appearance of a haphazard response to local initiative, but should reflect a consistent official policy, and Rome’s conscious intention to urbanize the province’.79 We should point out in this regard that the pattern of renaming cities in this concentrated area was probably the result of inter-city competition. On this view, when a city was granted the imperial name for their urban advances, other cities would strive to imitate (even to outdo) their neighbour before petitioning the emperor for similar recognition (via an embassy or the legate).80 As the inscription above suggests, Claudius had indeed completed what Augustus had begun in transforming the political geography of central Anatolia, and these civic transformations under Claudius are prima facie evidence of the reception of imperial ideology in Galatia.81 As a second observation on the above inscription, we suggest that it was largely through the Emperor’s legate M. Annius Afrinius (A.D. 49–54) that Claudius stamped his presence across the province.82 We know, for example, that Annius’s name and even his image was imprinted on Galatian coinage. Of course, this unorthodox practice is quite striking not only when we consider that he was of praetorian rank,83 but also when we remember that images of living persons were almost exclusively reserved for the emperor and his family (fig. 3).84 While some Galatian coins honoured the emperor through his legate, others heralded the imperial story more directly. In Iconium, for example, a coin was struck in direct correlation with the mint from Rome that commemorated Claudius’s marriage to Agrippina in A.D. 49.85 The urban cities of Galatia, far from being isolated outposts in the deserts of central Anatolia, were still proclaiming the imperial good news. Yet as so often was the case, the relationship between the emperor and the provinces existed most powerfully in the ––––––––––––––––– 74

BMC Lycaonia 20. Mitchell 1979:426 (with references). 76 von Aulock nos. 141–53. 77 Mitchell 1993:I.95 n. 164 (with references). 78 Hall 1959:119–20. For these cities, see Magie 1950:II.1405–6; Mitchell 1993:I.94–7. 79 Mitchell 1993:I.96 (cf. Ramsay 1922:158). 80 On inter-city rivalry, see p. 42 above (cf. Price 1984b:64). 81 Mitchell 1993:I.98. 82 This self-evident conclusion comes as early as Ramsay 1922:158–62 and has never been questioned (cf. Sherk ANRW II.7.2.976–7; Levick 1967:165; Mitchell 1993:I.79, 94–7). 83 Annius later reached consulship in A.D. 67 (Halfmann 1986:37; Sherk ANRW II.7.2.977). 84 For coins with his name, see, e.g., RPC 3555) = BMC Galatia 3 (Pessinus) and for Annius’s image, see also RPC 3557 (Pessinus). 85 RPC 3542; cf. the similar Roman mint (BMC Claudius 72) as well as similar coin issues in Ephesus (BMC Ionia 203–6). 75

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cult of the emperor, where Roman cultural, social, and religious identities all merged.

3a

3b

Figure 3. Aes (ca. A.D. 49–54) from Iconium. (a) Obverse showing Annius crowned with a laurel wreath with legend ANNIOS AFREINOS; (b) Reverse showing Perseus, holding a sickle (r. hand) and the head of Medusa (l. hand) with legend KLAUDEIKONIEWN (RPC 3543 = von Aulock nos. 245–9. © Copyright the Trustees of the British Museum)

C. Reception of the Imperial Cult During the first century, the public veneration of the emperor stretched across the entire province of Galatia. In the previous chapter we already discussed the oath of allegiance from Gangra in Paphlagonia, a territory that Augustus had recently attached to Galatia.86 We can add to this evidence an inscription from the southern sector of Augustan Galatia with strikingly similar language. The text, which has now been reconstructed from three blocks recovered from the native Milyadeis territory near the via Sebaste and can be dated to 5/4 B.C., records that the Milyadeis and the Roman businessmen and the Thracians living among them dedicated an imperial structure (probably an altar) ‘to Rome and the Imperator Caesar, son of god, Augustus… their own saviour’ (lines 1–4) (it is worth noting that the war against the Homonadeis was currently underway just east of here).87 Although the archaeological record has left no trace of an imperial temple in either of these cities (the fragmentary oath at Gangra probably mentions an imperial sanctuary), these texts show that the imperial cult had been organised in both the northern and southern extremities of Galatia by the year 4 B.C. What is more, the cult had even penetrated native Galatian territory. In addition, the provincial cult in Galatia had been organised in Ancyra soon after the province was established, and we know that it operated among ––––––––––––––––– 86

See p. 45 above. The text and commentary are provided in Hall 1986:137–40, 155. On the cult of Roma and Augustus, see esp. Mellor 1975. We can now add this inscription to his catalogue of evidence for the worship of Roma in the Greek world. 87

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several other cities.88 The provincial games, which were so integrally linked with the public worship of the emperor, for example, were held in Ancyra as well as in Pessinus and Tavium.89 We have already observed that the Asian koinon decreed that Asia adopt the solar calendar and begin the year with Augustus’s birthday.90 Not only do we have evidence that the Asian calendar was actually adopted in Galatia,91 but also it seems clear that the Galatian koinon was probably not sluggish in issuing decrees of her own. Although the epigraphic record has not left us with any of these decrees, we can be fairly certain that sometime between the years A.D. 19–20, the koinon of Galatia decided that the imperial sanctuaries across the province should put on display copies of Augustus’s recently published Res Gestae (which in A.D. 14 had been inscribed on bronze tablets and set up on Augustus’s Mausoleum in Rome; Suetonius Aug. 101.4).92 This view would explain why we have remains of the Res Gestae in three cities of Galatia (and nowhere else in the Roman Empire). In Apollonia, for example, this text was translated into Greek and inscribed in seven columns on a large imperial pedestal upon which were mounted statues of the deified Augustus, Iulia Augusta, Tiberius, Germanicus, and Drusus (A.D. 14–19).93 We also find the Res Gestae in Ancyra and in Pisidian Antioch, where they were also inscribed in conjunction with their respective imperial sanctuaries. For this reason, we can

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See Deininger 1965:20, 66–9. At least from the time of Nero, the Galatian koinon held games on a four-year cycle in these three cities (Moretti no. 65; I am indebted to Mitchell 1993:I.112 for this reference). 90 See p. 32 above. 91 That Galatia also adopted the new Asian calendar is confirmed from Attaleia, a city of Augustan Galatia that began the New Year on 23 September (see Mitchell 1986:21). 92 Cf. Dio Hist. LV.10.9. For the best modern texts of the Res Gestae with commentary, see Gagé 1977 and Volkmann 1969 (cf. Hardy 1912; Robinson 1926b). Although in the final sentence of his treatise Augustus states that he was writing the account in his seventy-sixth year (i.e. A.D. 14), the climax of his account actually harked back some sixteen years earlier with his receiving the title ‘father of the country’ in 2 B.C. (Augustus Res Gestae 35.1–2). Ramage 1988, to be sure, is probably correct that Augustus composed the entire treatise in A.D. 14. Ramage 1987 also argued that the Res Gestae was meant to preserve the stable government that he had established by charging Tiberius to imitate the grand achievements of his father (cf. a similar view in Robinson 1926b:4), while Gradel 2002:281–2 more recently has argued that it was Augustus’s defence for his deification. More convincing, however, is the brilliant essay of Yavetz 1984, who suggests that the document, in contrast to his non-extant Autobiography (meant to defend his claim of authority), was meant to serve as a model for the Roman youth of the empire to imitate (cf. Augustus’s rather conspicuous statements in 34.1–3). 93 MAMA IV.143 (fig. 17 depicts the monument). For a discussion of this monument along with an honorary inscription showing the advance in the cult during the early years of Tiberius (MAMA IV.142), see Mitchell 1986:30–1. 89

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conclude that this phenomenon was probably a decision of the koinon.94 If this understanding is correct, then it provides crucial evidence not only for the zealous activities of the koinon, but also for the provincial cult’s jurisdiction far beyond the cities of the North. We have already mentioned that the cult operated on the local level in Gangra and somewhere among the native Milyadeis. From inscriptions mentioning priests, we also know that the cult was organised in Iconium (where an inscription mentions a priest of Tiberius)95 and in the territory of the Gorgoromeis (again showing the development of the cult in native territory).96 Some of the best-attested archaeological evidence for the imperial cult in the Greek East, however, is found in Galatia. We shall therefore discuss briefly these archaeological remains in order to assess the degree to which the cult had become a central element of civic life on the provincial and civic levels. 1. The North: Ancyra and Pessinus We begin with Ancyra, the capital of Galatia and the seat of the Galatian koinon, where a magnificent provincial temple was dedicated to Roma and Augustus (The temple, along with the foundation for an altar in front of the sanctuary, still remains today.) Because the temple contained so many Hellenistic features, those who conducted the first (and most extensive) study on the temple concluded it was erected in the second century B.C. (perhaps to the god Mên) before later being re-dedicated to Augustus.97 This supposition is now shown to be a false trail, as several Roman features of the temple put it no earlier than the imperial period.98 That the temple was dedicated to Roma and Augustus is also clear from two inscriptions in the sanctuary. The first text is Augustus’s Res Gestae, which we have concluded was set up in accordance with a decision of the Galatian koinon. The text was actually carved on the walls of the temple, and it was reproduced in Latin alongside of a Greek translation. The most famous surviving monument of Ancyra, how––––––––––––––––– 94

This point was first suggested by Robinson 1926b:26, notably before the Apollonian inscription had even been discovered, but it is Deininger 1965:68–9 who has made it widely accepted in recent years. 95 Cronin 1902:119 no. 45 = IGRR III.1473 (cf. Cronin 1902:123 no.55 =IGRR III.1474). 96 For the text and discussion, see Hall 1971:125, 128, 158–9. Although without traces of temples, altars, or priests, we cannot confirm whether an organised cult existed in Lystra, Olbasa, or Seleuceia Sidera, we should note that the epigraphical record from these cities preserves dedications to Augustus and/or Claudius (Mitchell 1993:I.78 [with references]). 97 Krencker and Schede 1936:esp. 43–51. 98 See, for example, Waelkens 1986:esp. 48–52. In addition, the argument of Tuchelt and Prießhofen 1985 that the temple was dedicated to Magna Mater/Cybele has also been shown to be untenable (see the independent rebuttals of Halfmann 1986:41 and Mitchell 1986:28–9). Because of its western orientation, Mellor 1975:144 conjectured that the Augustan temple (dating to the years 25–20 B.C.) was actually built over a temple to Cybele, but this possibility also hardly seems likely.

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ever, is neither the Res Gestae nor even the magnificent temple itself, but an inscription from the sanctuary that lists the high priests of the provincial imperial cult during the time of Tiberius along with the various public benefactions they provided during each of their term(s) of service.99 From this text we are able to determine that the temple (and the Res Gestae) was probably dedicated in A.D. 19/20, the date on which the first priest was listed.100 This priest list, to be sure, provides important historical information not only for the dating of the temple, but also for the nature of the provincial cult in Galatia. At least three points in this regard deserve mention here. First, we can deduce that the inscription provides a running list of priests and that a term of service was for one year (a few priests held the office on two occasions).101 Secondly, we know that during the reign of Tiberius, the provincial priests were drawn from Ancyra as well as from Pessinus. Thirdly, we should point out the Celtic names and affiliations on the list. The priests were doubtless part of the élite members of society, but they were natives, not Romans. One of these priests, in fact, was King Amyntas’s son, Pylaemenes, who served as priest on two occasions (in A.D. 22/3 and 30/1) and who even provided the plot of land for the temple (lines 20–9, 48–56). Finally, we should note that the public celebrations associated with the cult were remarkable and occurred regularly throughout the year, such as public banquets and sacrifices (hetacombs), horse races, gladiatorial shows, bull and wild beast fights, and sacred processions. Half of the priests, in fact, provided gladiatorial games or wild beast fights during their tenures. The provincial cult was also active in the city of Pessinus, where the remains of an imperial temple have been discovered. The temple, probably dedicated at the end of Tiberius’s reign between the years A.D. 35–6, was the initial stage of an urbanising programme in Pessinus, a city that until this time had not experienced any significant civic life.102 Unlike the temple in Ancyra, ––––––––––––––––– 99

The best text and discussion is still Krencker and Schede 1936:52–4, which also contains excellent photographs (cf. OGIS 533). 100 Mitchell 1986:29 (cf. Leschhorn 1992:335–6, who rightly argues that this date gives us not only the official inauguration of temple, but also the date for mounting of the Res Gestae). This date is also confirmed when we remember that the walls were smoothed down for the carving of the Res Gestae, thus showing it was not originally part of the architectural plan (c.f. Waelkens 1986:57; Mitchell 1986:30). Halfmann 1986:37, however, argues more generally for anytime between the years A.D. 18 and 23. 101 Noted in Sherk ANRW II.7.2.973. 102 For a thorough study on the temple, see Waelkens 1986:here 39. We are able to reconstruct the temple’s date fairly precisely from two sources: coins and the priest list in Ancyra. Several Pessinuntine coins from A.D. 35 (e.g. RPC 3555) for the first time displayed a hexastyle temple, thus probably announcing the completion of this new imperial temple. Secondly, we know from the priest list at Ancyra that the first two priests from Pessinus served during the years A.D. 31/2 and 35/6 respectively. The first priest donated an imperial statue (for the temple?) and hosted ten pairs of gladiators in Pessinus. One would suppose that these contests

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which was modelled on a Hellenistic-style, the one in Pessinus resembled republican sanctuaries from Italy.103 This temple was also unique in that a Roman-style theatre was attached to it with a monumental entrance leading up to the sanctuary. That the theatre was built in direct correlation with the public practice of the cult – hosting processions, various performances, and gladiatorial contests that were so intimately connected with the cult – is supported not only from its location, but also from the high podium upon which the seats of the theatre were built (to protect spectators during gladiatorial combats).104 Indeed, from the priest list in Ancyra, we learn that the first provincial high priest from Pessinus provided ten pairs of gladiatorial contests in Pessinus in addition to twenty-five more pairs in Ancyra (lines 58–62, 73–6). To be sure, the city of Pessinus is perhaps best known to NT scholars for its temple to Cybele, which was indeed its most important building during the Hellenistic period (e.g. Strabo Geog. XII.5.3).105 Although the cult of Cybele was doubtless still important during the imperial period (even a temple to her, albeit Romanised, stood in Augustan Rome),106 the architectural showpiece during this period was no longer her temple, but the one dedicated to Augustus. Mitchell has already noted that in the wake of imperial rule the mother goddess had lost some of her lustre: Despite the antiquity and international reputation of the cult of Cybele, its best days were over even by the time of Augustus. Strabo observes that the powers of the temple state and its priests were much diminished in his time, and the epigraphy of the imperial period does not suggest that the cult was then widely disseminated or attracted pilgrims from far afield.… It would be a mistake to attribute the decline of the sanctuary to waning devotion. The power of the Mother Goddess was as strong as it had always been; only Pessinus itself had been eclipsed. While it had once been an imposing cult centre, boasting almost the only marble temple of Hellenistic central Anatolia, it was now simply one among dozens of Roman provincial cities.107

––––––––––––––––– were held in the newly-built theatre. The second priest provided two public banquets, perhaps to celebrate the dedication of the temple. From these two pieces of information, a strong case can be made for dating the temple to the years A.D. 35/6 or perhaps earlier to A.D. 31/2 (Mitchell 1986:31–2). 103 Waelkens 1986:62–3. 104 Waelkens 1986:70 (cf. Mitchell 1993:I.103–5). 105 See, e.g., Martyn 1997:17. 106 For the ongoing importance of the Cybele cult in Pessinus, for example, we can point to some of the imperial coinage, which continued to display the mother goddess. One issue, for example, displayed Augustus and the imperial title on the obverse with a depiction of Cybele on the reverse (RPC 3556). To be sure, we should not be shocked to find this example, as Cybele had been adopted into the Roman system (and Romanised) during the second century B.C. (for Augustus and Cybele, see esp. Wiseman 1984, who shows that in Virgil’s Aeneid, Cybele was the goddess who protected the Trojans). 107 Mitchell 1993:II.19–22, here 20, 22.

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The imperial temple in Pessinus, in fact, serves as a perfect example of the transformation of civic space during the imperial period. Indeed, that the imperial temple was built over Phrygian levels from the fifth and fourth centuries B.C. suggests that that it represented a new (Roman) phase in the urban advancement of the city. This notion is confirmed when we also consider the colonnaded square that was constructed just west of the site during the reign of Claudius. The imperial temple had superseded the temple to Cybele as the new centre of Pessinus. 2. The South: Pisidian Antioch Perhaps the most explicit example of the centrality of the imperial cult in Galatia is found in Pisidian Antioch, although it has largely been overlooked in recent studies on the imperial cult.108 An impressive imperial ensemble basically engulfed the city centre and would have been conspicuous far beyond the walls of the colony.109 The colonnaded Tiberia platea, which served as the entry into the cultic site, helped to reinforce the enormity of the complex by actually tapering as it approached the sacred site. At the end of the street, the first structure was a towering triple-arched propylon, upon which stood colossal statues of significant members of the imperial family (fig. 4).110 One of the most notable features of the propylon was Augustus’s Res Gestae, which was inscribed in red in ten parallel columns on the inner faces of the two medial piers.111 Unlike the bilingual text in Ancyra and the Greek ––––––––––––––––– 108

Price 1984b:269–70, for example, only makes a passing reference to the temple in his catalogue. This neglect has occurred because of the checkered history regarding the nature of the temple. Although Robinson 1926c believed the temple to be of an Augustan date, he thought that it was dedicated jointly to Augustus and to the native god Mên. On the other hand, Ramsay 1930:277 vacillated between various theories before finally concluding that the original site must have been of Hellenistic origins with the temple itself having been erected between A.D. 100–160 (cf. his previous statement in Ramsay 1916:107–8 that it was built to Augustus). Two decades ago, Tuchelt 1983:esp. 514–9, revived Robinson’s theory by maintaining that the temple was dedicated to Mên. After arguing decisively against Tuchelt, Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:157–67 have finally resolved the debate by putting forth convincing arguments (e.g. the so-called underground chamber and the orientation of the temple) that the temple was dedicated not to Mên but to Augustus (during either his lifetime or at the beginning of Tiberius’s reign). 109 Noted in Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:164. 110 Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:146–7, 161–4 have noted that the propylon is one of only two surviving gateways of this type in the whole of Asia Minor (the second one being from Ephesus and erected in 4/3 B.C. for Augustus, Livia, and Agrippa). 111 On the colouring of the letters, see Robinson 1926b:25–6. On the placement of the inscription, see Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:169 n. 35; cf. the earlier study of Robinson 1926b:23, who argued that the text was inscribed in two columns on each front face of the pedestal, except for columns five, six, and nine, the former two of which were placed on the inside of the inner two columns and the latter of which was alone on the fourth pedestal. His argument for this arrangement is based on the better preservation of columns five and six

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translation in Apollonia, however, the text in Pisidian Antioch was only in Latin, which further supports the suggestion that this colony was in theory meant to be comprehensively Roman.112 Ramsay is surely right when he remarked on Augustus’s literary monument: ‘Few would read; but all the city would look and admire’.113 Of course, one did not actually have to read it in order to comprehend the propylon’s imperial message; there were enough images signifying that Augustus had ushered peace and prosperity into the Roman world.

Figure 4. Tiberia platea leading to propylon (Kelsey Archive 7.1113. Courtesy of the Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, University of Michigan)

With its triple arches, for example, the propylon itself symbolised the triple triumphs Augustus celebrated from 13–15 August 29 B.C. for his Dalmatian campaigns (35–33), Actium (31), and Egypt (30). Similarly, the relief of Poseidon and the images of dolphins symbolised Augustus’s naval victory at Actium. We should also note that the relief of the Capricorn (Augustus’s birth) proudly proclaimed the new age of Augustus. The propylon even recalled the narrative of Roman Galatia, with the barbarian captives that adorned the propylon almost certainly referring to the freshly-defeated Homonadeis.114 ––––––––––––––––– when compared with the others, but this fact also supports the interpretation provided by Mitchell. 112 Noted as early as Robinson 1926b:2 in response to V. Ehrenberg’s supposition to the contrary. 113 Ramsay 1924:182. 114 For a detailed analysis (including excellent photographs), see Robinson 1926c. See also Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:146–47, 161.

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The dating of the propylon can be ascertained from an dedicatory inscription (to the emperor) on the architrave, which has been partially preserved in six fragments. In the past, scholars had often thought that following the reference to tribuniciae potestatis X, the fragmented text reflected the first two Latin letters for Germanicus. Both Claudius and Nero took this name, which narrowed the year of dedication either to A.D. 50 or 62 (the years in which they each held the tribunician power for the tenth time). Because scholars generally found it difficult to imagine the cult beginning as late as Nero, until only recently the traditional view had been to date the propylon to the time of Claudius in the year A.D. 50.115 A fresh reading of the architrave, however, has now been made possible from a 1924 photograph that resolves the ambiguity of the disputed reading (the editio princeps on this inscription is to be published sometime in the near future). On this fresh study, the inscription reads: IMP • CAES[ARI• DI]VI • [F• A]VGVSTO • PONTI[F]ICI • M[AXIM]O COS• X[III• TRIB]VN[ICIAE] POTESTATIS • XXII • [IM]P • XIIII • P[ • P •] For the emperor Caesar Augustus, son of a god, pontifex maximus, consul for the 13th time, with tribunician power for the 22nd time, imperator for the 14th time, father of the country.116

The propylon was dedicated to the living emperor Augustus, probably soon after 5 Feb 2 B.C., the date on which he had received the title ‘father of the country’ (a title he received with tears of joy, Suetonius Aug. 58.2).117 Of course, this revised dating is significant not only for the construction of the propylon, but also for the entire temple complex, to which now we now turn. Just beyond the propylon was a massive staircase leading up to the temple itself, which was raised on a podium (as we observe, for example, with the Augustan temple in Corinth). Like the temple in Pessinus, this sanctuary ex––––––––––––––––– 115 Most recently Witulski 2000:194–204 (cf. also Mitchell 1986:31 n. 62; Mitchell ABD I.264; Mitchell 1993:I.107; Hansen 1994:395). 116 For the text, see now Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:147 (cf. Tasçlıalan 1995:251–2). For the most recent discussion of this important inscription, see Stanton 2004:38–9, who also follows Mitchell’s provisional text and date. 117 Unfortunately, Witulski 2000:194–204 completed his work in the same year as Mitchell and Waelkens 1998 and was therefore unaware of their most recent discussion on the propylon. We shall evaluate Witulski’s late date (A.D. 50) for the public reception of the imperial cult in Pisidian Antioch below (Chapter 5), but one of Witulski’s arguments in support of a late date for the propylon deserves mention here. Witulski argued that because the Res Gestae was published shortly after Augustus’s death in A.D. 14, this date serves as a terminus a quo for the entire propylon. On balance, Robinson 1926b:23 has already shown that the inscription was cut after the pedestals were in place, a fact which suggests that the text was inscribed and mounted only after the propylon was built. This understanding is made even more certain if we are correct that the Galatian koinon was responsible for the inscribing of the Res Gestae in A.D. 19/20. The propylon, then, would have been dedicated in 2 B.C., with the Res Gestae attached later when it was also inscribed in Ancyra and Apollonia.

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hibited a strong western influence. Its Roman design is clearly reflected not only in its podium, but also in its axial planning and inward-looking design.118 Behind the sanctuary stood a two-level semicircular portico, where approximately forty-three massive Doric and Ionic columns (the temple’s columns were Corinthian) punctuated the elaborate complex.119 Mitchell has noted that the complex provides one of the most notable examples of the transformation of civic space, whereby imperial buildings literally took over and dominated the urban landscape, thus symbolizing unequivocally the central position that emperor worship occupied in city life, and the overwhelming manner in which the emperor dominated the world view of his subjects.120

If the centripetal orientation and massiveness of the temple symbolised the prominence of the cult in Pisidian Antioch, the temple’s artistic equipment did as well. Decorative ornaments and elaborate friezes adorned the temple in addition to a unique acroterium of white marble that displayed a woman’s figure amidst fruits and foliage. Such visual images had become a familiar feature of Augustan civic architecture, symbolising the fecundity attributed to Augustus’s new creation of pax et securitas (fig. 5).121 Interestingly, several historians have shown from its archaeological design that this temple was directly inspired by the temple of Mars Ultor in Rome.122 In further support of this view, we should note that the temple to Mars Ultor may actually have been quite significant to the citizens of Antioch. According to Suetonius, while on the plains of Philippi in 42 B.C. Augustus vowed to construct a temple to Mars Ultor (Augustus added the name Ultor, i.e. the Avenger) to avenge the murder of his father (Aug. 29.1–2).123 We will remember from our historical sketch above that legio VII, the members of which had been settled in Antioch, would have been standing ––––––––––––––––– 118

Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:135–6, 164–5. As Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:141, 164 have observed, the fusion of the Greek orders in one structure was a Roman architectural innovation, which symbolised the uniting effect of Roman power (cf. the Colosseum at Rome and the impressive Sebasteion at Aphrodisias discussed in Smith 1987:88–138). Although Lyttelton 1987:42–3 recognised a western influence, she failed to realise this Roman feature (for the mixing of styles under one new style, see esp. Zanker 1988:256 and Onians 1988:41–58). 120 Mitchell 1993:I.107 (cf. Robinson 1926c:6: ‘Nowhere else in the Roman empire has yet been discovered a better combination of superb realistic sculpture with excellent solid architecture in excellent vertical and horizontal rhythm. Greek refinement and restraint seem here to be combined with Roman luxuriance, Greek simplicity with Roman complexity, Greek beauty with Roman realism and massiveness’. 121 Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:159, 166 (see Zanker 1988:172–92). Again, see Robinson 1926c for an elaborate discussion along with ample photographs. For imagery and the new age of Augustus, see esp. Zanker 1988:167–238. 122 E.g. Lyttelton 1987:42–3 (followed by Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:160–1). 123 In addition, the military standards were housed in this temple (Augustus Res Gestae 29.2; Dio Hist. LV.10.3). 119

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next to Augustus on the Philippian plain on that day when this vow was uttered. It is therefore tempting to suggest that these colonists determined to model their Augustan temple on the Roman temple to Mars Ultor, which was also dedicated in 2 B.C. (Dio Hist. LV.10.2–8). On this view, the symbolic nature of the Pisidian temple simply reinforced what the propylon and the Res Gestae communicated – Augustus was the avenger of the enemies of Rome and the father of the Roman people.

Figure 5. Woodbridge’s sketch of the Augustan temple of Pisidian Antioch (Reproduced in Mitchell 1998:138; Courtesy of Professor S. Mitchell)

Regarding the public practice of the cult, we should finally mention the extramural stadium just west of the city, which would have been used to host games and various celebrations in relation to the cult.124 In addition to this archaeological evidence, however, the epigraphical record has left us a crucial ––––––––––––––––– 124

Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:33.

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text concerning the public practice of the cult in Antioch. According to the editio princeps published in 1924 by Ramsay, it reads: 125 [L(ucio) Calpurnio] L(ucii) C]alpurnii Pau[lli] f(ilio) Ser(gia) Longo Pon[t(ifici) q]ui primus omn[ium 5 [ex superabundan-] t]i messe p[op]u[lo Ant(iocheno) m]unus promisit [et in]tra duos men[ses a]mphitheatr(um) ligne10 u]m fecit. venatione[s cotidie omnis ge[neri]s et sparsiones dedi[t et] gladiatorum paria X]XXVI per dies octo [et? 15 con]summato mu[nere cenam po]p[ulo dedit?

To Lucius Calpurnius Longus, the son of Lucius Calpurnius Paullus, (of the tribe of) Sergia, who, being the first one from the abounding harvest, vowed a public festival (munus) to the people of Antioch and within two months constructed a wooden amphitheatre. He gave a variety of wild beast fights each day and scatterings (of perfumes/presents) and 26 (36) pairs of gladiators for eight days. And at the completion of the public festival he gave a feast to the people (of Antioch).

A few of Ramsay’s reconstructions must remain uncertain (esp. lines 5 and 14), but the main subject of this honorary inscription is clear. The imperial priest of Antioch, L. Calpurnius Longus, financed the construction of a wooden amphitheatre and hosted a munus (festival) complete with a variety of wild-beast shows and gladiatorial combats, during which he also dispersed perfumes and/or presents (perfume would conceal the malodorous blood and sweat).126 Furthermore, if Ramsay is correct in line sixteen, we also learn that the festival concluded with a public feast, which, as Ramsay noted, would have involved the entire populus and not merely the Roman élite.127 Although the inscription is plain on these general matters, the duration of the munus and its significance in the history of Antioch require further clarification. Regarding the former, Mitchell has suggested that intra duos menses (line 8) should refer not to the time it took to build the amphitheatre, but to the duration of the munus since it ‘makes the term cotidie in the next phrase intelligible’ and ‘It is unlikely that it would have taken two months to construct a wooden amphitheatre, or that a benefactor would have drawn attention to such a detail on an inscription’.128 Mitchell’s suggestion is certainly attractive in that it makes more sense of cotidie (i.e. the wild-beast fights were held each ––––––––––––––––– 125

The text was partially published in Sterrett 1888:no. 397, but it was Ramsay 1924 who completed it. Ramsay’s text is verified by Robinson 1925:254 and reproduced (without commentary) in Robert 1971:179. See now the extensive discussion in Witulski 2000:204–15 (cf. Pilhofer and Witulski 1998:esp. 252–55). 126 It is worth noting this imagery in 2 Cor 2.14. 127 Although line sixteen is almost completely reconstructed, Ramsay’s reading accords well with the general nature of this type of inscription. 128 Mitchell and Waelkens 1998:230 n.15.

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day for a two-month span). In the end, however, his reading ultimately shipwrecks on the syntax. It is hardly plausible that intra duos menses would correspond with the previous clause since it comes both after the main verb promisit and even the conjunction et (if we take Ramsay’s reading).129 Indeed, we can observe a striking parallel in Suetonius’s account of a munus, which Nero staged in a wooden amphitheatre he had built in the Campus Martius (Suetonius Nero 12.1).130 According to Suetonius, the wooden amphitheatre was ‘built within the span of one year’ (intra anni spatium fabricato), even employing the same temporal preposition as our inscription above (intra). To be sure, Mitchell is certainly correct to insist that a wooden amphitheatre should normally have taken longer than two months to complete. On balance, perhaps the swiftness of its construction is precisely why the inscription points out this otherwise unimportant detail (and why Suetonius does similarly). The honorary text would thus emphasise that as priest, Longus not only fulfilled his enormous vow to the city, but also fulfilled it speedily, even completing the amphitheatre within two months. The festival lasted longer than eight days, perhaps even much longer, but the precise duration is simply not stated. We can therefore conclude that this honorary inscription emphasises that the construction of the amphitheatre was completed in a remarkably short time frame, while the munus was certainly no fleeting event. If we have clarified the duration of the munus, we must also determine whether it was the first one provided to the general public in Pisidian Antioch. In the light of line four (qui primus omnium), Witulski has recently argued quite vigorously that this indeed was the case.131 In support, Witulski argues that neither the stadium nor the theatre in Antioch (which he presumes were both Hellenistic) would have had the necessary equipment, such as gates and/or handrails to separate the audience from the stage, to host gladiatorial shows. Even if these structures were unsuitable in the first instance, however, the necessary accoutrements easily could have been added. Moreover, the reference to Longus’s being the first one to offer a munus probably refers to the reason for holding the feast. On this reading, Longus was the first to hold a feast because of the plentiful harvest (as opposed to any impetus from something external to Antioch’s locality, such as the emperor’s birthday).132 ––––––––––––––––– 129

I am grateful to A. Nobbs, Professor of Ancient History at Macquarie University, who has confirmed my translation of the phrase in question. 130 Cf. Tacitus Ann. XIII.31. 131 Witulski 2000:205–8. In this regard, he argues that any previous festivals would have been restricted to the élite. 132 If the inscription is, in fact, making a connexion between the munus and the harvest, this fact is significant for our understanding of Antiochene cosmology (such as the harvest) in relation to the rule of the emperor. Mitchell 1993:I.111: ‘The connection between gladiators and emperor worship was not merely contingent, but there was an essential link between them’.

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In the end, perhaps it is best to understand the munus as the first of its kind by nature of its occasion. The temporary nature of the amphitheatre confirms this idea even further. Had Longus been introducing the provincial cult to Pisidian Antioch (as Witulski argues), a more permanent structure would surely have been erected, as we observed in Pessinus. We can therefore conclude that this inscription does not suggest either that Longus was a provincial priest or that this munus was the first public festival in Antioch. There may well have been previous festivals of this sort, even if not in a Roman arena. Finally, the date of the inscription bristles with problems. When Ramsay first published the text, he noted that the term superabundo (line 5) did not appear before Tertullian and Ulpian and thus concluded that the text came from the early second century.133 Ramsay reconstructed the entire line in question and thus his argument carries little force. He even suggested an alternative reading (ex agrorum abundanti messe), which he considered to be equally as plausible.134 Robinson, on the other hand, dated the inscription to the time of Domitian (A.D. 81–96), but unfortunately he provided no supporting arguments (perhaps he related it to the famous grain shortage of A.D. 93?).135 Witulski has now pushed back the date even further, to the year A.D. 50 (in agreement with Ramsay’s ‘original impression’).136 In support of Witulski, it is hardly likely that public festivals would have been postponed until the end of the first century A.D. when the cult in Antioch had been thriving since the time of Augustus. We have already pointed out, however, that this munus was not necessarily the first ever public festival in Antioch, so this argument cannot be decisive. The only other clue that may help us to date the inscription comes from the name of the imperial priest Longus, who shared the same Roman name as one of the earliest (consular) legates of Galatia, L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi (ca. 14–13 B.C.).137 Perhaps Longus’s family received their name from this governor, which would permit a date as early as the middle of the first century. Of course, without further evidence we cannot determine definitively between any of these options, except to say that an earlier date is certainly more attractive in relation to the speedy development of the cult in Pisidian Antioch.

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This dating was generally followed without discussion (e.g. Robert 1971:141 n. 94). Ramsay 1924:179 (also noted by Witulski 2000:212–15). 135 Robinson 1925:254; for the grain shortage, see n. 39 above; Levick 1967:83 n. 7 only states that its date could have either a first- or second-century date. 136 Witulski 2000:212–15 (quotation from Ramsay 1924:179 n. 4). 137 See PIR2 C 289); Sherk 1980:964–5 (see also n. 64 above). For Piso’s early departure from Galatia to put down the revolt in Thrace, see Dio Hist. LIV.34.6. 134

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Conclusions In this chapter, we have both sketched the formation of the Galatian province and evaluated the reception of imperial ideology and the imperial cult. From coins to buildings, and even to city appellatives, we have evaluated the degree to which the ideology of the empire and cult of the emperor was taken up in Galatia, and we are finally in a better position to answer the question posed at the outset of this chapter. In short, imperial ideology and the public worship of the emperor took root almost instantaneously in Galatia after its formation as a Roman province (ca. 25 B.C.), and its grip on the province did not wane but was actually solidified further during the Julio-Claudian period. In this regard, the evidence we have evaluated permits at least the following tentative conclusions. First, the Julio-Claudian emperors brought about major changes in central Anatolia. If Augustus was not the official heir of central Anatolia, he certainly claimed it for Rome. He established veteran colonies and other cities (sometimes ex nihilo), built roads, and quelled the unruly natives. It is therefore not surprising that the cult was so prominent during the reign of Tiberius. Not only were the three grandiose imperial sanctuaries in Ancyra, Pessinus, and Pisidian Antioch dedicated during this time, but also the koinon probably made a lasting impact by their decision to immortalise Augustus’s Res Gestae. We have observed that the most prominent reception of imperial ideology, however, came during the reign of Claudius. He rebuilt roads, realigned the borders of the province, and reestablished cities across South Galatia. Of course, we should bear in mind that the administration of Claudius’s popular legate Annius Afrinius (A.D. 49–54) falls during the time of Paul’s correspondence with the Galatian churches. Secondly, unlike the fierce debates regarding the destination of Paul’s letter to the Galatians, the location of the emperor’s cult can be settled beyond doubt: it was received in both the indigenous Galatian territory in the North and the newly colonised region in the South. Even from our somewhat limited evidence, we know that the public worship of the emperor was organised publicly in at least ten cities or regions in Galatia during the Julio-Claudian period (see fig. 6). Thirdly, as one would expect, the public practice of the cult regularly involved civic celebrations, festivals, and games. As we concluded in the previous chapter, such festivities were certainly attractive, and the entire population would have been happy to be active participants and spectators. If our gladiatorial inscription from Pisidian Antioch is from this period, then this impression is strengthened even further. In this regard, Mitchell has noted that ‘The pattern of discovery elsewhere surely leads one to expect that further

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exploration or excavation of these ill-documented cities would only confirm the dominance of emperor worship in local public life’.138

Figure 6. The Imperial Cult in Galatia during the Julio-Claudian Period (Adapted from Mitchell 1993:II.map 6)

If the conclusions we have reached in these past two chapters are granted, then the implications for our understanding of the Galatian letter are worth serious consideration. We have now answered the questions regarding the nature and impact of the imperial cult and ideology in the Roman Empire and in Galatia, but we still have yet to address the pressing question: What, if anything, does the imperial cult have to do with Paul’s letter to the Galatians? The remainder of this study will assess how this backdrop might contribute ––––––––––––––––– 138

Mitchell 1993:I.117.

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both to our understanding of the Galatian crisis and to our reading of certain sections of Paul’s letter. It is therefore to Paul’s letter that we now turn.

Part II

Galatians and the Imperial Cult?

Bibliography (WUNT), rev. 15:05, 12/1/07

Chapter 4

Avoiding Persecution and the Imperial Cult (Gal 6.12–13)? Now the Jews, though naturally well-disposed for peace, could not be expected to remain quiet whatever happened, not only because with all men the determination to fight for their institutions outweighs even the danger to life, but also because they are the only people under the sun who by losing their prayer houses (proseuxai/) were losing also what they would have valued as worth dying many thousand deaths, namely, their means of showing reverence to their benefactors, since they no longer had the sacred buildings where they could set forth their thankfulness. – Philo In Flacc. 481

Introduction In Part One, we argued that the imperial cult and ideology flourished during the Julio-Claudian period and had a tremendous impact in the Roman world and in the province of Galatia. In the remainder of the study we will assess whether this background might help us to understand better the social/religious context of Paul’s letter to the Galatians. As indicated in the title of this chapter, we will begin our investigation with the letter’s postscript, but this immediately raises the question: Why start with the finale of the letter? H. D. Betz has correctly claimed that the postscript to Galatians (Gal 6.11–18) serves as the hermeneutical key for understanding the letter’s major themes.2 Indeed, these concluding verses provide important information for understanding the nature of the Galatian crisis. No one doubts that there are significant theological statements in this pericope, such as Paul’s crucifixion to the world (6.14),3 the concept of new creation (6.15),4 and of course the perplexing reference to the ‘Israel of God’ ––––––––––––––––– 1

Unless otherwise noted, all translations of Philo come from Colson. Betz 1979:313. Cosgrove 1988:38, however, argues that ‘the postscript itself affords no immediate entrée into the inner logic of the epistle’ (cf. Du Toit 1992:292). See now, however, Weima 1993, whose detailed study on the conclusion successfully helps to substantiate Betz’s claim (for the conclusion beginning at Gal 6.11, see, e.g., Hansen 1989:52, 65–6; Lightfoot 1896:220). 3 E.g. Minear 1979. 4 E.g. Hubbard 2002; Adams 2000; Beale 1999; Dunn 1996; Mell 1989; Stuhlmacher 1967; Boyer 1963; Schneider 1959. 2

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(6.16),5 even if scholars continue to debate the precise meaning of these statements. Paul’s discussion of the agitators’6 motives in 6.12–13, however, has received little attention, despite the fact that these verses potentially reveal what Paul perceives to be the greatest issue in Galatia.7 How (if at all) do Paul’s statements regarding the agitators’ motives in 6.12–13 help us to reconstruct the exigency of the crisis in Galatia, at least from the perspective of the agitators? In order to answer this question, we will assess the possibility that the imperial cult looms in the background of Paul’s statements in 6.12–13. We will begin our study with Paul’s charges regarding the agitators’ motives in these verses and their possible connexion with the avoidance of the public worship of the emperor. As we consider this hypothesis, however, we must discuss a number of related issues, such as the identity of the agitators, the reliability of the information we find in 6.12–13, and Jewish rights with regard to the imperial cult. By the end of our study, we will be in a better position to reach some conclusions regarding the imperial cult as a backdrop to understanding the agitators’ motives according to 6.12–13.

A. The Motives of the Agitators in Gal 6.12–13 1. Securing a ‘Good Status’ in the Flesh8 In the light of Paul’s sustained theological arguments against the agitators, it seems a rather unexpected move that, taking the pen himself (6.11), Paul would begin the conclusion of his letter by accusing the agitators of having

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E.g. Dahl 1950; Schrenk 1950; Schrenk 1949. Various names have been bestowed upon the group that Paul so vehemently opposes in Galatia. Nanos 2002b:115–31 has recently criticised these appellations, including the traditional misnomer ‘judaisers’, the Baur-like ‘opponents’ (e.g. Tyson 1968), Martyn’s ‘Teachers’ (Martyn 1985b), and even Paul’s own ‘agitators’ (Gal 1.7; 5.10; cf. Jewett 1971). After pointing out the shortcomings of these labels, Nanos suggests that the label ‘influencers’ avoids hoisting any undue value-laden assessment upon them (Nanos 2002b:193–99). Although he is quite right to point out the deficiencies in many of the various labels attached to this group, I am less inclined to think that employing Paul’s description of them as ‘agitators’ necessarily hinders us from understanding them on their own terms. What is more, from the evidence within the letter, it seems clear that this group was indeed throwing the Galatian churches into disorder (Gal 1.6–7; 3.1; 4.17–20; 5.2–12). Throughout this thesis, I shall therefore continue using the term ‘agitators’ when referring to this group. 7 Nanos 2002b:217. 8 For this phrase, see Winter 2002:75. 6

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self-preserving motives. We shall set out our own literal translation of these verses below:9 12

As many as are wanting to secure a good status (eu)proswph~sai) in the flesh, these ones are compelling (a)nagka&zousin) you to be circumcised, only in order that they might not be persecuted (diw&kwntai) because of the cross of Christ. 13 For neither are the circumcised ones (oi9 peritemno&menoi) themselves guarding (fula&ssousin) the Law, but they are wanting you to be circumcised in order that they might boast in your flesh.

In just two verses we find very serious charges indeed. How are we to understand the nature of these accusations? Most commentators on this passage have divided these statements into two unrelated motives. On this view, avoiding persecution and boasting in the flesh were two distinct aims of the agitators:10 6.12b Avoiding persecution because of the cross of Christ 6.13b Boasting in the circumcision of the Galatians

A minority of interpreters, however, have observed three motives, which again were disparate aims:11 6.12a Wanting to secure a good status 6.12b Avoiding persecution for the cross of Christ 6.13b Boasting in the circumcision of the Galatians

Although Paul certainly frames the agitators’ motives in these three ways, in the pages that follow we will argue that the first charge (wanting to secure a good status) is the primary accusation of these two verses, under which Paul’s other statements are subsumed. We first note that 6.12b is the intended purpose/result (i3na). In other words, avoiding persecution for the cross of Christ was the intended aim in securing a good status in the (Galatians’ circumcised) flesh. This understanding is confirmed in 6.14, where Paul contrasts himself with the agitators by boasting in the cross (6.14), the very thing the agitators were attempting to avoid. Thus, we may understand one motive in 6.12:12 6.12a Wanting to secure a good status only in order that they may not be persecuted (6.12b)

––––––––––––––––– 9 Some modern scholars have understood Paul’s unusual reference to ‘large letters’ (phli/koij gra&mmasin) as highlighting the magnitude of the statements found in the postscript. For a discussion of various other suggestions, see Weima 1993:90 (cf. Weima 1994:127–9). Regarding the structure of the postscript, Weima (following Schnider and Stenger 1987:145–6) is correct to see Gal 6.11–17 arranged in a concentric pattern. 10 Barrett 1985:84–7; Weima 1993:94–100. 11 E.g. Corsani 1990:403; Fung 1988:304–5. 12 Several interpreters, to be sure, have assumed that mo/non must be taken rhetorically and not literally in 6.12 (e.g. Betz 1979:315; Weima 1993:96).

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Given Paul’s use of diw~kw earlier in the letter – referring both to his former persecution of the church (1.13, 23) and his suffering for disregarding circumcision in his preaching to Gentiles (5.11; cf. 4.29) – Paul is referring to the avoidance of physical persecution in these verses. Paul claims that the agitators were unwilling to endure physical persecution for the cross of Christ (cf. 6.17). In the following verse, moreover, we observe a rather a stringent accusation against them: ‘For neither are the circumcised ones (oi9 peritemno&menoi) themselves guarding (fula&ssousin) the Law, but they are wanting you to be circumcised so that they may boast in your flesh’ (6.13).13 What does Paul mean by this accusation? In particular, what are we to make of Paul’s claim that the agitators did not guard (fula&ssousin) the Law? Furthermore, how does this verse relate to 6.12? On the former question, scholars usually offer one of four interpretations: (1) the agitators, along with the rest of humanity, were unable to live up to the strict standards of Torah (cf. Rom 1.8–3.20; 7.7– 25; 8.3),14 (2) the agitators were not living according to the spirit of Torah by not seeking the interests of the Galatian readers,15 (3) the agitators were simply being hypocritical and inconsistent in their own practice of Torah.16 Other interpreters have thrown up their hands in frustration. They claim (4) that surely in this verse we cannot find any objective information, but only a biased perspective from an angry apostle. At the very least, the agitators would certainly have considered themselves to be doers of Torah (6.13a). Because Paul was probably either exaggerating or deliberately misrepresenting the agitators, it is argued, we must take his statements here cum grano salis.17 Perhaps we may be tempted to concede that Paul was making a desperate last ditch effort to win his readers over to his side. Two observations, however, point us in another direction. First, none of the options above gives full attention to the fact that 6.13 serves as an explanatory clause and not as an independent charge. In this verse Paul was still speaking of motives, providing more clarity regarding the agitators’ concern to avoid persecution for the cross ––––––––––––––––– 13

On the participle ‘the ones being circumcised’ (peritemno/menoi) as a reference to the agitators and not to a group of Paul’s readers, see, e.g., Schlier 1962:281; Du Toit 1994a:158 (cf. Hansen 1989:264 n. 50). Because of the present tense of the participle, Nanos 2002b:205–6, 234–42 and now Murray 2004:34–6 have argued that the agitators were proselytes to Judaism (cf. Richardson 1969:84–9). 14 Longenecker 1990:293 (see, however, Phil 3.5; cf. Gal 1.14). 15 Nanos 2002b:228–9. 16 Fung 1988:302–3. This interpretation often has been influenced in the light of 5.3, in which Paul states that whoever receives circumcision is under obligation to do the whole Law. 17 See, e.g., Sumney 1999:136–7; Lührmann 1992:123; Barclay 1987:76; Betz 1979:314; Mußner 1974:27–8; Eckert 1971:22–6, 234–6. However implausible, a minority of scholars have argued that Paul was uninformed of the situation in Galatia (e.g. Schmithals 1972:18).

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of Christ in 6.12b. Thus, 6.13b merely restates the motives of the previous verse. On this reading, boasting in the circumcised flesh of the Galatians is virtually synonymous with securing a good status in the flesh.18 Furthermore, most interpreters read the verb fula&ssw as a reference to the agitators’ own (non-)observance of the Law. Paul had employed the verbs poie/w and plhro/w earlier in this letter when referring to Torah observance (3.10, 12; 5.2, 14), and most scholars have assumed that fula&ssw here is simply synonymous with these other occurrences. Another meaning, however, is probably at work here. Rather than calling into question the agitators’ observance of Torah, Paul was simply denying a motive they might have had for advocating circumcision among Gentiles, namely, to preserve (fula&ssw) the Law from being disregarded among Gentiles.19 If this understanding is correct, what Paul intended to show in this verse was that their demand for circumcision was rooted not so much in their zeal for preserving Torah by having Gentiles circumcised, but in their desire to boast in having these Gentiles circumcised.20 In 6.13, Paul does not revert desperately to an argumentum ad hominem. After denying that guarding the Law was their underlying motive for promoting circumcision, he reaffirmed his charge in 6.12 that having the Galatians circumcised would provide an opportunity for the agitators to boast in (the security of) their flesh. Thus, Paul’s description of the agitators’ motives in pressuring Paul’s readers to be circumcised could be charted as follows: 6.12a The ones wanting to secure a good status, these are compelling you to be circumcised only in order that they may not be persecuted… (6.12b) For They are not concerned with guarding the Law (6.13a), but in order that they may boast in your flesh (6.13b).

When seen in this light, the crucial element in Paul’s argument is that the agitators were seeking to secure a ‘good status’ by having the Galatians circumcised. Their reason for doing so, moreover, was not at all attached to their desire to guard the Torah. On the contrary, the agitators simply desired to avoid

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Similarly Bligh 1966:217. Barrett 1985:78 (cf. Du Toit 1994a). Interestingly, we see this verb used similarly in Acts 21.24 with regard to Paul’s guarding of the Law vis-à-vis other Jews. 20 Similarly Du Toit 1994a:160: ‘It would be wrong to infer from Paul’s initial statement in Gl 6:13 that he is denying that the peritemno/menoi want to uphold the law. He is making a comparison and he does it in the form of a hyperbolical contrast…. [B]oasting about the circumcised state of the Galatians was in fact much more important to the Judaizers than the keeping of the law’). 19

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persecution for the cross of Christ and thus to boast in the Galatians’ circumcised flesh.21 2. Securing a ‘Good Status’ and the Imperial Cult With this understanding of the charges, the first question we must now address is how the agitators would have hoped to obtain a good status by circumcising the male believers in the Galatian churches. Indeed, what exactly does Paul mean when he employs the verb eu0proswpe/w in 6.12? Furthermore, from whom were the agitators attempting to avoid persecution? A spate of perspectives, to be sure, has been put forth in the last several decades in response to these questions, whether the proposal has involved two fronts of opponents,22 Jewish syncretists,23 a group of Gentile proselytes concerned with either Heilsgeschichte24 or local Jewish persecution,25 Jewish-Christian Gnostics,26 Judaean Jesus-believers attempting to quell reprisals from the Zealot cause,27 or even local non-Jesus-believing proselytes at work in the Galatian churches.28 B. W. Winter, however, has recently put forth a very different understanding of the situation. Against the traditional assumption that the agitators came from outside Galatia (e.g. Jerusalem), Winter has proposed that the agitators were local Jewish Jesus-believers who were putting pressure on Paul’s readers to get circumcised. Their tactics, moreover, are best understood against the ––––––––––––––––– 21 This understanding, moreover, would explain Paul’s intense rebuke of the agitators in the letter as a whole. Paul was upset because the agitators were only preaching circumcision for their own self-preservation. In one sense, then, it may be that the agitators did not believe their Judaising message, contrary to the assumptions of the vast majority of scholarly opinion on the theological convictions of the agitators (see p. 100 below). 22 Lütgert 1919. Ropes 1929 later modified Lütgert’s thesis by arguing that neither party was Jewish; they were only attracted to the Jewish roots of Christianity. 23 Crownfield 1945. 24 Munck 1959. 25 Harvey 1968, but see now Wagner 1990 (cf. Cineira 1999:291–317). 26 Schmithals 1972:13–64. 27 Jewett 1971:198–212, esp. 204–6. He supposed Jewish Jesus-believers from Judaea were compelling Gentile Jesus-believers in Galatia to be circumcised as an attempt to end Zealot reprisals on the church. Aside from his one example of a Zealot uprising in Judaea (ca. A.D. 48–52), however, his thesis does not prove that the Zealot movement was a major issue during the 40–50’s in Judaea. In addition, it has been pointed out that the Zealots would have been more concerned with overthrowing the Roman government than persecuting the early church for not having Gentiles circumcised in the Diaspora. Although Jewett’s theory has rightly been questioned by some scholars (e.g. Nanos 2002b:207–11; Cineira 1999:302; Barclay 1988:64 n. 81), others still appeal to his view as a likely scenario for understanding their avoidance of the cross of Christ (e.g. Longenecker 1990; Weima 1994:164; cf. Keesmaat 2004:158; Hurtado 1999:54; Dodd 1996:95). 28 Nanos 2002b:193–9, 271–321. For a critique of these and various other suggestions, see, e.g., Longenecker 1990:lxxxviii–c; Fung 1988: 3–9; see now Nanos 2002b:131–92.

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backdrop of the imperial cult. By having the Galatian Gentiles circumcised, the agitators hoped to evade persecution from the local civic authorities for affiliating with Gentiles who were no longer observing the public worship of the emperor. If the Galatians received circumcision, Winter explains, they would appear at least to the civic authorities to be a Jewish group and thus a religio licita that would have enjoyed special protection from the public worship of the emperor.29 Winter’s reading focuses in part on the verb eu0proswpe/w in 6.12, which we have confirmed above is important for understanding Paul’s accusations against the agitators. Winter proposes that this verb, a NT hapax legomenon, carries with it a legal/quasi-legal nuance very similar to the Latin persona and thus should be translated ‘to secure a good (legal) face’.30 Although the verb and its cognates sometimes do carry more generally a social nuance without implying any legal overtones,31 Winter’s reading of eu0proswpe/w does find support from the available evidence. In a letter from the second century B.C., for example, Polemon responds to Menches’s concerns regarding a declaration for the overcharging of taxes. Polemon advises Menches not to diminish the report compared with a first report, ‘in order that we might secure a good face’ (eu0proswpw~men).32 On this legal understanding of eu0proswpe/w, Winter thus maintains that the agitators were seeking to be considered, at least in the eyes of the civic authorities, a legitimate Jewish group. This would explain why the agitators were putting such intense pressure on the Gentile Jesus-believers to undergo circumcision, since they were hoping to evade persecution for being associated with this new illicit group.33 Winter’s fresh hypothesis certainly warrants careful consideration. In order to assess this proposal, however, we must investigate three related issues that arise from these verses.

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Winter 1994:123–44; Winter 2002. See the extensive discussion in Winter 2002:73–4. 31 See, e.g., Dionysius of Halicarnassus Lys. 24, concerning Lysias’s oration on the proper conduct of a legal prosecutor in the event that he happens to be related (biologically) to the defendant. According to Lysias, the plaintiff should appear not to be vexatious. On the contrary, the prosecutor should make it clear to the court that if he had not come to the support of the injured party (i.e. the plaintiff), he would have suffered a loss of face (pro/swpon) in public. Winter 2002:73, to be sure, argues that this example supports his legal reading, but he mistakenly believed that the word was used in connexion with the persons the prosecution represented in court. Upon closer inspection, however, Lysias was clearly referring to the prosecution’s own social/policial standing in politeia. 32 P.Tebt. I.19); See also Plutarch Mor. 458 F; cf. LSJ s.v. ‘eupro/swpoj’. 33 Winter 2002:esp. 73–5. 30

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B. The Agitators in Gal 6.12–13: Local Jewish Jesus-Believers? We must first evaluate the plausibility of Winter’s belief that the agitators were local Jewish Jesus-believers. By the end of the letter, we might expect that Paul would have finally revealed the names of these agitators (cf. the sudden naming of Euodia and Syntyche in Phil 4.2), but alas, he consistently refers to them only with indefinite relative pronouns, ‘as many as’ (o3soi), or hides their identity within the substantival participle, ‘the ones who are advocating circumcision’ (peritemno&menoi). Indeed, that they are referred to so vaguely throughout the letter raises the question whether they were indigenous to Galatia. Winter merely assumes they were local, but many scholars have believed the agitators were emissaries, whether authorised or not, from the Jerusalem church.34 R. Longenecker represents a widely accepted view when he states that the opponents were hardly indigenous to the situation, for Paul repeatedly refers to them as distinguishable from the Galatian Christians (cf. 1:7–9; 3:1; 4:17; 5:7, 12; 6:12–13). Indeed, Paul seems not to have known them, either personally or by name. He refers to them generally as “some people” (tine/j) and “anybody” (tij) in his opening statement of the problem (1:7–9)…. Finally, it is generally agreed that, though they may have come from the Jerusalem congregation and been in personal contact with the apostles there, the opponents in their judaizing activity were probably taking a line of their own, and so were unsupported by the Jerusalem apostles.35

As seen in this statement, evidence in support of the traditional view is commonly adduced (1) by evidence within the letter itself and (2) by assumptions drawn from a particular historical reconstruction of earliest Christianity. On the use of historical reconstructions, however, J. Sumney has argued convincingly that they cannot be used to determine the characteristics of Paul’s socalled ‘opponents’, but can only serve in a limited way (e.g. to test the possibility of a hypothesis).36 He points out that determining the nature of the opponents on the basis of a pre-conceived historical reconstruction ‘fails to recognise the diversity of early Christianity…. and involves circular reasoning because the interpreter assumes what she or he sets out to prove’.37 He therefore posits that a proper methodology must begin first with the evidence within the letter. Even if we begin with the letter, however, many would insist that the agitators must have been outsiders. As Longenecker noted, Paul only refers to the ––––––––––––––––– 34

E.g. Dunn 1993:9; Hong 1993:117; Bruce 1982:24; Jewett 1971:204. Longenecker 1990:xciv (cf. Barclay 1988:43). 36 Sumney 1999:20–3 (cf. his more thorough treatment in Sumney 1990:78–86). Despite this methodologically sound principle, Sumney nevertheless assumes the agitators came from outside the Galatian congregations because Paul did not seem to know them. 37 Sumney 1999:21. 35

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agitators in the third person, while he uses the second person when speaking to the Galatian churches. We should point out, however, that the third person references only specify to whom the letter was written, not the provenance of the agitators.38 Although it is certain that the agitators were not addressed directly in Paul’s letter, they may well have belonged to the Galatian churches. L. Thurén has proposed a quite different reason for Paul’s mention of the agitators in the third person: If, however, the separation of the two groups was Paul’s main goal, the distinction of the persons tells us nothing about their origin. If the antagonists were a group within the congregation [sic], such a distinction is precisely what Paul should have made in order to protect the addresses from their influence’.39

Perhaps originally coming from within Galatian churches, the agitators later broke ties with Paul’s readers or excluded themselves (or the Galatians) from fellowship (4.17), a scenario quite similar to the situation Paul recounted in Syrian Antioch (2.11–14). At the very least, the third person references to the agitators point only to a broken relationship at the time of Paul’s letter, not to their place of origin.40 If this concession is granted, however, does Paul’s use of the indefinite pronouns, as we find in 6.12–13 and elsewhere (1.7; 3.1; 5.7,10), imply that the agitators were unknown to Paul and thus were from outside Galatia?41 Most interpreters have concluded affirmatively, but the use of indefinite pronouns does not necessitate this understanding. John Chrysostom insisted that Paul refused to name the agitators so that they might become more shameless.42 Betz believed that the indefinite pronouns were to prevent the agitators from receiving free publicity.43 In a little known article on Paul’s method of alienating the agitators from his readers, A. du Toit (following the lead of Chrysostom) has made a compelling case that the indefinite pronouns in Galatians are most likely ‘a rhetorical means of portraying the Judaizers as incog––––––––––––––––– 38

Similarly Nanos 2002b:169. Thurén 1999:313 (cf. Barclay 1988:43 n. 15). Thurén 1999:313–14 also argues that the ‘intruders’ from Gal 2.4, who were presumably from within the Jerusalem church, would also support the view that the agitators originated from within the churches (cf. 2 Pet 2.11; Jude 4). 40 In his recent introductory article on Galatians in the volume on Paul in the Cambridge Companions to Religion Series, B. Longenecker (2003:esp. 64–5) unfortunately disregards the most recent literature on the subject of the agitators, and thus he still assumes with no substantial discussion that the agitators came from Jerusalem (see a similar critique on this point in Sumney 2004). 41 E.g. Cineira 1999:305: ‘Die Opponenten gehörten nicht zur galatischen Gemeinde, weil Paulus sie als eine von ihn getrennte und unterscheidbare Gruppe betrachtet’ (cf. Longenecker 1990:xciv; Witherington 1998:23). 42 Cited in Du Toit 1994b:407. 43 Betz 1979:49 n. 65 (cf. Martyn 1985b:313–14). 39

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nito persons, as shadowy characters’.44 In a culture concerned with honour and shame, knowing precisely who the opposing party is and then refusing even to mention any names would certainly have carried much rhetorical force as a method of shaming them.45 If there is no compelling reason to suppose the agitators were from outside Galatia, one reference in Paul’s argument supports the view that they were originally believers within the Galatian churches. In Gal 5.2–12, Paul directly confronts his readers for allowing themselves to be persuaded by the agitators. In these verses he refers to their presence and persuasion by means of a metaphor of leaven and dough. 7 You were running well. Who hindered you from obeying the truth? 8 This persuasion is not from the one who calls you. 9 A little yeast leavens the whole batch of dough.

Although some interpreters have assumed that yeast here represents an outside group who had infiltrated the churches, the same analogy is employed in 1 Cor 5.7–9 when referring to those within the Corinthian church. In Gal 5.9, then, this metaphor probably implies that the agitators were believers within the Galatian congregations whose message threatened to spread throughout the churches.46 Whether this group had joined the Galatian churches after Paul had left Galatia on his earlier visit (13.14–14.24) is unclear, but it is virtually certain that they were local Jewish Jesus-believers. In addition, it is highly likely that they were originally believers within the Galatian churches, but had recently withdrawn fellowship (Gal 4.17; cf. 2.11–14). We therefore accept that the agitators were local Jesus-believers.47

C. Paul’s Accusations in Gal 6.12–13: Are They Reliable? We must now determine the reliability of Paul’s accusations in 6.12–13. Because of the severity found in these charges, many scholars have doubted their accuracy. On this view, these statements were meant either as a throwaway ––––––––––––––––– 44

Du Toit 1992:285–6 (cf. Du Toit 1994b:406–7; Thurén 1999:313; Richardson 1969:92). Martyn 1997:120 makes a similar observation, although he still concludes that the agitators were outsiders to Galatia because of the third person references. 45 On honour and shame in the ancient world and in the NT, see, e.g., DeSilva 2000:23– 93. Underlying the scattered references to Jerusalem in Galatians (e.g. 2.1–14; 4.21–5.1), some scholars have also supposed that the issue in Galatia was directly predicated upon the influence of the Jerusalem church, even if unauthorised by James (e.g. Martyn 1997:126; Longenecker 1990:lxxxix–xcvi). This view – that behind Paul’s references to Jerusalem rests his real bone of contention – however, over-interprets the rather indecisive evidence. 46 Richardson 1969:90 (cf. Nanos 2002b:191–2). 47 For other scholars who have argued that the agitators came from within the Galatian communities, see, e.g., Nanos 2002b:143–58; Lyons 1985:161; Richardson 1969:96, 144; Tyson 1968:252–4; Robinson 1965:46.

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line or as a last ditch effort at turning his converts away from the agitators. In his illuminating study on mirror-reading Paul’s letter to the Galatians, J. M. G. Barclay has noted that due to the polemical situation of the letter, it is quite difficult to discern the actual motives of the agitators: We should never underestimate the distorting effects of polemic, particularly in a case like this, where Paul is going out of his way to show up his opponents in the worst possible light, with the hope of weaning the Galatians away from them. We must take into account, then, that Paul is likely to caricature his opponents, especially in describing their motivation: were they really compelling the Galatians to be circumcised? And was it really only in order to avoid persecution for the cross of Christ (6.12)? … His statements about the character and motivation of his opponents should be taken with a very large pinch of salt.48

More recently, J. Sumney has taken this notion further in his attempt to provide a comprehensive methodology for identifying Paul’s so-called ‘opponents’.49 In contrast to those scholars who have based the identity of the opponents on a reconstruction of early Christianity, Sumney argues that the letter itself must be the primary evidence used when identifying them.50 Two issues must be considered: (1) how certain we can be that a given statement in Galatians refers to opponents and (2) how reliable each particular statement is. Regarding the latter, he sets up a sliding scale of reliability, with polemical contexts being the most unreliable for providing accurate statements regarding the opponents: In the Hellenistic era polemical remarks were often tendentious and partisan and included exaggerations and unsupportable charges about one’s opponents. Early Christian antiheretical writers commonly made exaggerated claims about their opponents and often accused them of deceit or immorality.51

––––––––––––––––– 48 Barclay 1987:74–6, here 75–6 (cf. Barclay 1988:37–8, 46). Barclay notes at least three problems the modern interpreter faces when seeking to reconstruct the situation of the letter and the arguments put forth by the agitators: (1) in Galatians we are not only listening to one side of a dialogue (between Paul and the Galatians), but it largely involves an unknown third party; (2) because this is ‘no calm and rational conversation… Paul is likely to caricature his opponents, especially in describing their motivation’; and (3) circularity is inevitable in this process because both the response in the letter is conditioned by the response to the agitators, and we can only learn about the agitators from the letter itself. Cummins 2001:97, on the other hand, argues that ‘While it may be agreed that such polemic must be examined with due caution, it cannot be dismissed as pure rhetoric. Indeed, significantly, it is consonant with the essence of Paul’s counter-argument throughout Galatians: the Abrahamic family is no longer defined according to circumcision and Torah, but in terms of those who (unlike the Agitators) are wholly identified with the crucified Christ (Gal 6.12–14, 17; cf. 2.19–21; 5.11), and are sustained by the Spirit who inspires and empowers them in the midst of their afflictions (Gal 3.1–5; 4.6, 29)’. 49 See Sumney 1999:1–32. For a fuller account of his methodological considerations, see Sumney 1990:esp. 75–120. 50 Sumney 1999:20–5 (cf. Sumney 1990:95–113). 51 Sumney 1999:25.

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Employing this methodology, Sumney argues that the tone of the closing of Paul’s letter to the Galatians and the polemical nature of the letter would strongly suggest that Paul was exaggerating and/or misrepresenting the agitators in 6.12–13. From these verses, he concludes (1) that we cannot accept that they wanted to avoid persecution simply desiring to make a good showing in the flesh, (2) that we cannot be certain the avoidance of persecution was an actual motive at all, and (3) that the claim they do not keep the Law might refer only to their supposed dishonesty or insincerity: ‘Thus, it is impossible to discern with certainty anything about their practice of the Law or their motives from 6.12–13’.52 If these conclusions are correct, then they would obviously undermine Winter’s proposal, or any other proposal, for that matter, that relies on the information found in these verses. Several criticisms, however, can be made against this view. First, the assumption that a polemical tone necessarily results in a distortion of the facts is presumptive. Because Paul was attempting to persuade the Galatians to disassociate themselves from the opponents, we should in fact assume that his accusations would have needed to hit the mark very closely. Had Paul’s readers discovered that Paul had misrepresented the agitators, for example, the force (and moral high-ground) of his own position would have been swept away. Surely Paul would not have taken such a risk, especially assuming the agitators would have been ready to defend any false accusations that may have arisen in this letter.53 Secondly, Sumney’s method of reading later Christian writings back into Paul’s letters is anachronistic. Although he objects to using later historical developments as directly informative for reconstructions of an earlier period, he proceeds to use evidence from those early Christian authors who wrote in an ad hominem fashion, such as we find with Irenaeus’s polemical remarks against the Gnostics (e.g. Irenaeus Adv. Haer. I.31.4)54 in order to understand Paul’s statements in 6.12–13.55 Surely, we should not interpret Paul’s rhetorical strategy on the basis of later Christian authors. Finally, it is unlikely that the postscript should be considered as one of the polemical passages in Galatians. This pericope, I would argue, contains a didactic (the most reliable context according to Sumney) rather than a polemical ––––––––––––––––– 52

Sumney 1999:137. To be sure, from this passage he believes that the agitators were, in fact, demanding that Paul’s readers undergo circumcision. 53 Interestingly, Barclay 1987:76 points in this direction when he states that Paul’s arguments would have failed had Paul completely misrepresented his opponents. If this tenuous situation required Paul to be quite accurate in his discussion of the theological issues at hand, however, it seems probable that Paul would also have been required to reflect accurately the agitators’ motives. 54 See Sumney 1999:25–6; for the critical edition of Irenaeus’s writings, see Rousseau 1969. 55 Sumney 1999:77–80.

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tone, in which Paul seeks to show his readers the value they should place on the cross of Christ, with himself as the exemplar and the agitators as the antithetical alternative. If there is no good reason to dismiss Paul’s statements a priori, there are two reasons why we should think that in these verses Paul was indeed exposing the agitators’ true motives. 1. Paul versus the Agitators in Gal 6.12–17 and in Galatians First, we detect an integral contrast between Paul and the agitators in these verses that also crops up elsewhere in the letter.56 In setting out the structure of the postscript, for example, Weima has correctly argued that the letter closing revolves around a series of contrasts between Paul and the agitators, with Paul’s boasting in the cross of Christ being the centrepiece (6.14).57 Whereas the agitators were wanting to avoid persecution for the cross of Christ and thus to boast in the Galatians’ flesh (6.12–13), Paul would only boast in the cross, through whom the world had been crucified to him and he to the world (6.14).58 Whereas the agitators were emphasising circumcision in an attempt to avoid persecution, Paul emphasised the new creation and his being crucified to the present world (6.15).59 Finally, the agitators were seeking to avoid persecution, but Paul enjoins others to cause him no more troubles (ko&pouj)60 because he bears ––––––––––––––––– 56

The Greek rhetorical technique of comparison (su/gkrisij) has been discussed in a handful of NT studies (see e.g. Muller 2003; Seid 1999; Evans 1988; Forbes 1986). This rhetorical device in its technical usage, however, is probably not at work in Galatians, since the characteristic signs of this rhetorical technique (e.g. comparative adjectives and adverbs) are notably absent. It is possible, to be sure, that Paul was directly responding to the agitators, whose strategy had involved comparing themselves with him (cf. 2 Cor 10–13). At any rate, that Paul was contrasting himself with the agitators at key points in the letter will become clear in the ensuing discussion. 57 Weima 1993:94–5 observes the repetition of the first-person pronoun (occurring three times each in 6.14 and 6.17) which ‘results in a very powerful rebuttal in which the apostle, rather daringly, confronts his opponents and their claims head-on’. For the structure of the postscript, see n. 9 above. 58 It is ambiguous whether the relative pronoun ou[ refers back to the cross (i.e. ‘through which’) or to Jesus Christ (i.e. ‘through whom’), but it seems best in the light of Paul’s statements elsewhere in Galatians (e.g. 2.19–3.1) that here Paul was referring to his co-crucifixion with Christ. 59 Although Tannehill 1967:62–3 is correct that Paul was contrasting himself with the agitators in these verses, he nevertheless misunderstands the immediate context of boasting. Rather than being merely a spiritualised concept (e.g. boasting in the Law), as he argues, the boasting here refers to the practical result of getting these Gentiles circumcised: avoiding persecution. Thus, Paul’s boast is in the imitation of Christ and his crucifixion, whereas the agitators were hoping to boast in the security of having these Gentiles circumcised. 60 Cummins 2001:101 argues that ko&poj is likely a reference to Paul’s hardships and troubles, even to his beatings. In the light of the rest of the verse, there is no reason to doubt Cummins’s argument here.

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(basta&zw)61 on his body the marks (sti/gmata) of Jesus.62 Although some scholars, following A. Deissmann, have suggested that Paul was alluding metaphorically to the protective marks that a person would enjoy from having the religious brand-marks of his or her god, the sti/gmata certainly referred not to some mystical wounds on Paul, but to actual scars from the persecution he endured for the cross of Christ.63 In this light, it becomes clear that when Paul spoke of boasting in the cross of Christ, he was referring not to a spiritual understanding of the cross, but to his imitation of Christ and his sufferings through his endurance of persecution, through which he was a participant in the new creation (6.15).64 Thus, Paul’s accusation that the agitators desired to boast in the Galatians’ flesh is best understood when read in conjunction with Paul’s rhetorical aim to contrast himself with the agitators. Paul would only boast in the cross of Christ (6.14, 17) and the persecution that resulted from being identified with him, whereas the agitators were boasting in their secure civic status (6.12).65 What is more, we observe similar contrasts between Paul and the agitators in other sections of this letter. Perhaps the most obvious place to begin is 5.11: ‘But I, brothers, if I am still (e1ti) preaching circumcision, why am I still (e1ti) being persecuted? In that case, the stumbling block of the cross has been nullified’ (5.11).66 Many insist that Paul was responding to charges that he still preached circumcision.67 Barclay, however, has rightly pointed out that such a conclusion is unnecessary: ––––––––––––––––– 61 Interestingly, only a few verses earlier Paul had instructed the Galatian churches to ‘bear’ (basta&zw) one another’s burdens, which may well have been a reference to the hardships that they would doubtless face for standing firm in the truth of the Gospel (cf. 3.4). 62 Deissmann 1901:349–60 (cf. Betz, ‘sti/gma’ TDNT 663; Witherington 1998:454). That the term sti/gma referred much more often to tattooing than to religious branding in the ancient world, see Jones 1987. 63 For Paul’s willingness to suffer for the cross of Christ, see, e.g., Rom 8.17; 1 Cor 4.11; 2 Cor 1.5; 4.8–10; 6.4–5; 11.23–7; Phil 3.10; Col 1.24 (cf. Acts 14.19–20; 16.22–4). 64 See esp. Borse 1970, who argues that the sti/gmata referred to the wounds that Paul received in his Gospel ministry. Taking tou= 0Ihsou= as a genitive of quality, he thus believes that these sti/gmata were comparable to the sufferings which Jesus endured on the cross (cf. Güttgemanns 1966:126–35). On this phrase, Baasland 1984:146 notes: ‘It is evident that Paul is speaking of imitation of Christ in his sufferings’. 65 Some scholars suppose that boasting here refers to social standing among Jews (e.g. Witherington 1998:448–9). On this view, Jewish Jesus-believers were attempting to achieve a high honour rating among their fellow Jews by undertaking a proselytising mission. Goodman 1994:esp. 60–90, however, has recently challenged the common assumption that the Jews were actively proselytising in the first century A.D. 66 Richardson 1969:90 notes the parallel in 6.12: ‘There is a congruence between 5:11 and 6:12 – in both persecution is predicated upon one’s view of circumcision, and the offence of the cross of Christ is reduced to nothing if one preaches circumcision’. 67 Dunn 1993:278 (cf. Bruce 1982:236–7; Richardson 1969:89).

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We are inclined to mirror-read this as a reflection of a criticism by Paul’s opponents, who accused him of still preaching circumcision. But it could also be no more than a simple contrast between Paul and his opponents, reminding the Galatians that he, Paul, is in a totally different category from them.68

Barclay’s suggestion here that Paul was simply contrasting himself with the agitators is bolstered by the emphatic first person pronoun, which begins this verse in order to signal a contrast between his preaching and the persuasion (peismonh/) of the agitators (5.7–10).69 Interestingly, while Paul was bearing (basta&zw) on his body the marks of Christ (6.17), Paul assures the Galatians that the ones agitating them would bear (basta&zw) the penalty (5.10). When read in the light of Gal 6.12–17, we observe that Paul also draws an important contrast in the lengthy narrative section of this letter (1.10–2.21).70 Paul begins the narrative by stating that he was not trying to please men, but God (1.10). Again, instead of seeing reflected in this verse a presumed charge the agitators were making against Paul, as is often assumed, we would do better to see Paul accusing the agitators of pleasing people.71 This understanding accords well with the point Paul seems to be drawing throughout the narrative: Paul was not a people-pleaser. After his call to the Gentiles, for example, he did not seek anyone’s advice. On the contrary, he began his Gentile mission straightaway (1.16–21). When he went to Jerusalem years later, he affirms that he did not receive any instructions from the apostles. Neither did he acquiesce to the so-called ‘false brothers’, who wanted Titus to be circumcised (2.1–5). Finally, he was affirmed as an apostle to the Gentiles, not because he actively sought their approval, but because the leaders in Jerusalem recognised the grace he had received to be apostle to the Gentiles (2.6–10). ––––––––––––––––– 68

Barclay 1987:79. Dunn 1993:278. 70 See, e.g., Schnider and Stenger 1987:150: ‘Trat in diesem Zusammenhang schon der Gegensatz zwischen Paulus, der es von sich weist, »Menschen gefallen zu wollen (a)re/skein) [sic] (Gal 1,10), und seinen Gegnern, denen er vorwirft, sie zielten darauf, »im Fleische wohl angesehen zu sein« (Gal 6,12), hervor, so ist dieser Gegensatz auch in einer weiteren Klammer wirksam, die wiederum den Briefanfang mit dem Eigenhändigkeitsvermerk mit Summarium verbindet und somit als Rahmen für das Verständnis des Briefs als ganzen berücksichtigt werden muß.’ 71 See, e.g., Vos 1994:10; Barclay 1987:79–80; Lyons 1985:143–4. Cummins 2001:112– 14 argues that the agitators are in view in 1.10 because of the ga&r that links the verse to 1.8– 9 (cf. Meyer 1884:20; Burton 1921:31; Mußner 1974:63; pace Lightfoot 1896:78–9). He substantiates this interpretation by observing three features in this verse: (1) the past/present contrast, (2) persuasion/pleasing motif, and (3) Paul as slave of Christ. Lyons 1985:143–5, here 143 is correct to reject the common interpretation that the antithesis of pleasing God versus pleasing people comes from charges to the contrary among the agitators, but he nevertheless argues incorrectly that this dualism stems from ‘Pauline ethos – he is a slave of Christ, an embodiment of his divinely revealed gospel, and thus beholden to no man’ (143). 69

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If the first part of the narrative was to prove that Paul was not a peoplepleaser as he had been in his previous life in Judaism (1.13–14),72 the disruption in the narrative at 2.11 signals a climactic break. In Antioch, Peter suddenly withdrew from fellowship with Gentiles out of fear. Both Paul and Peter knew the truth of the Gospel (2.14–16), but only Peter compromised for fear of the circumcision group (2.12).73 Furthermore, if Peter’s hypocrisy was indicative of the agitators, it seems at least possible that Paul had become aware of a group of agitators who did not misunderstand the gospel, but who (like Peter in Antioch) were people pleasers – not willing to be crucified with Christ (1.10; 2.19–20), fearful of others (2.11–14; 6.12–13), unwilling to associate with the Galatian Jesusbelievers (4.17–20), and preaching circumcision to avoid persecution (5.11; 6.12–13). In these passages Paul contrasts himself with them in order to exemplify one who was crucified with Christ (2.19–20; 6.14–15), who probably embodied this crucifixion through his own suffering before the Galatians (3.1; 4.13),74 and who continued to bear on his body the marks of this crucifixion (6.17; cf. 5.11). We could discuss other passages in Galatians in which Paul seems to be contrasting himself with the agitators (e.g. 3.1; 4.17–20), but we have seen enough evidence to conclude that Paul was not fabricating accusations in 6.12–13, but in fact was painting a detailed portrait depicting their aim to please people rather than to walk in the truth of the Gospel. Paul, on the other hand, was worthy of emulation because he was a person who consistently walked according to the truth of the Gospel. Although Paul’s readers had been running well (5.7), they had been hindered by the influence of the agitators. This leitmotif of contrast between Paul and the agitators, then, was meant to bring his readers back to his Gospel. In short, we have seen that these statements in 6.12–17 are consistent with what Paul says elsewhere in the letter about the agitators. It is therefore not likely that Paul either inserted a throwaway line or attempted to bring the agitators back by exaggerating their mo––––––––––––––––– 72 On the equation of Paul’s previous attempt to please people (1.10) with his former manner in life in Judaism (1.13–14), see, e.g., Gaventa 1986. 73 Watson 1999:143 is thus correct to state that, ‘The narratio usually ends where the point of controversy begins’, that ‘When conforming to these conventions the narratio is perhaps the clearest statement of the details of the rhetorical situation’, and that ‘Once identified, it is the narratio of the Pauline epistle that may give us the clearest insights into the rhetorical situation Paul is addressing, and its closing is the best indication of the main point of controversy’. Here we could add that the narrative climaxes in 2.14–21, as if to say that Paul had been crucified with Christ whereas the agitators were avoiding this cruciform way of life (6.12–13). 74 For evidence in support of Gal 3.1 and 4.13 referring to Paul’s suffering among the Galatians, see Davis 1999 and Goddard and Cummins 1993 respectively.

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tives. Instead, Paul revealed their true intentions in having the Galatian readers circumcised. 2. Persecution in Gal 6.12–17 and in Galatians Secondly, persecution is not unique to the charges in 6.12–17, but is an underlying theme in the entire letter. Some two decades ago, E. Baasland suggested that persecution was a prominent feature in Paul’s letter to the Galatians that had unfortunately gone unnoticed by the large majority of modern interpreters.75 Although scholars have remained divided over the nature of the persecution,76 many scholars now agree that the issue of persecution had a significant application to the Galatian crisis.77 It is first noteworthy that Paul refers to his former violent persecutions (u(perbolh_n e0di/wkon) of the church in Gal 1.13 (cf. 1.23).78 Paul shows, however, that he had come full circle, from a persecutor of the church to the church’s persecuted apostle (1.13–14; 2.19–3.1; 5.11).79 This notion is confirmed in 5.11, where Paul asked why he was still (e1ti) being persecuted if he still (e1ti) preached circumcision. The implication is clear: persecution could be avoided if Paul were to preach circumcision. Thus, here he interestingly links the proclamation of circumcision (to Gentiles) and the experience of persecution as mutually exclusive realities, the former nullifying the scandal of the cross. In addition to these passages, two other sections within Galatians discuss the reality of persecution and suffering in the Galatian context. The first comes in Gal 4.12–20, in which Paul details his initial visit when founding the ––––––––––––––––– 75

Baasland 1984:135 first points to the surprising statement in Gal 4.29, in which the ones kata_ sarka& persecuted (e0di/wken) those kata_ pneu=ma, both then (to/te) and now (nu=n). In this verse Paul was alluding to Gen 21.9, and although persecution is not mentioned either in the MT or the LXX on this verse, Baasland notes that Paul was most likely following a Jewish interpretative tradition here (cf. Gen. Rab. 53.11) in which Ishmael persecuted Isaac. 76 See, e.g., Mitternacht 2002:427, who believes the suffering inflicted on the addressees came from a group other than the agitators, supposedly Jews in Galatia. 77 For those who argue that suffering and persecution was an integral motif in the letter to the Galatians, see now Mitternacht 2002:esp. 427–30; Davis 2002:203–17; Cummins 2001:100–6; Hafemann 2000:167–74; Keesmaat 1999:179–81, 201–3; Dodd 1999:145–6; Hafemann 1997:esp. 354–6; Goddard and Cummins 1993 (cf. Lyons 1985:148–50). 78 For the formerly/now contrast as a motif in the Pauline corpus, see esp. Lyons 1985:146–52. Davis 2002:205 makes the attractive suggestion that Paul’s allusions to the call of the suffering prophet Jeremiah (Jer 1.5) and to Isaiah’s suffering servant (Isa 49.1) in Gal 1.15 were meant to place Paul in the tradition of the suffering righteous person (rather than to defend his apostleship). 79 It has been suggested by Cummins 2001:100–1 that this early reference to persecution ‘provides a framework against which to gauge the nature and significance of his later intermittent remarks concerning the Agitators’ activities and the response required from the Galatian faithful’ (cf. Dodd 1999:145–6).

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Galatian churches. Rather than seeing in these verses a highly emotional and erratic appeal, having little to do with the actual exigency of the Galatian crisis, as has traditionally been understood, A. J. Goddard and S. A. Cummins have argued convincingly that the aim of this section was to remind the Galatians of ‘the context of conflict and persecution which attended Paul’s original mission among the Galatian Christians’.80 This reminder was provided in order to persuade the Galatians to become as him (4.12) by returning to Paul’s example of faithfulness in suffering.81 Although some of the individual arguments Goddard and Cummins present are more tentative, such as their eschatological interpretation of w(j a!ggelon qeou= (4.14), their overall thesis carries strong cumulative weight. In Gal 4.12–20, Paul both reminded the Galatians of his former suffering when he was among them and urged them to return to their own former state of willingness to identify themselves with the persecuted Paul by undergoing suffering themselves (cf. 4.4). In the light of the theme of persecution in Galatians, we conclude that the statements regarding persecution in Gal 6.12–13 are not merely polemical overstatements that were detached from the Galatian situation. On the contrary, Paul’s charges are crucial for understanding the crisis in Galatia.

D. Avoiding Persecution and the Imperial Cult? 1. Jewish Rights and the Imperial Cult We now return to Winter’s central thesis that behind the agitators’ motives rest civic reprisals for not observing imperial cult. Winter argues that Jewish communities formed a religio licita and were therefore not required to observe the imperial cult. Of course, Winter is well aware that Jewish communities had no real charter outlining their freedoms. He uses the term simply as a helpful way in which to understand the privileges usually granted to Jews with regard to the public worship of the emperor. It will be shown, however, that the common view that Jews had special exemption from the imperial cult ––––––––––––––––– 80

Goddard and Cummins 1993:94. Goddard and Cummins 1993:96–100, here 99 have identified two basic problems in the exegesis of Gal 4.12. First, there are the two implied verbs that need clarification. Secondly, the modern exegete is required to determine the precise nature of the experience to which Paul is referring, both in the past and in the present. Regarding the first problem, Goddard and Cummins convincingly argue that it only confuses matters to attempt to supply verbs since Paul was referring to both the past and present of his relationship with them. Thus, Paul appeals to them to remain in the same ongoing and shared situation with Paul. Regarding the nature of this experience (the second problem), they conclude that it ‘must be understood as conflict and persecution’. 81

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needs careful clarification, as this view has recently been challenged by leading specialists in the field, such as T. Rajak and M. P. Ben Zeev.82 Did Jews have exemption from participation in the cult of the emperor? It has been almost universally agreed among modern scholars that they, in fact, did. Naturally, not to permit Jewish abstention from imperial veneration would undermine Judaism’s fundamental conviction – monotheism.83 To be sure, some scholars have noted that Jews during this period did not receive formal exemption per se, but toleration to honour the emperor in special forms (sui generis).84 Before deciding a priori that Jews must have had exemption, or at least special toleration, it is necessary for us first to examine the ways in which Jews did honour the emperor. Then, the Greco-Roman evidence must be examined in order to compare Jewish participation with the sacrificial and honorific activities of the Greeks and Romans. The most telling clue regarding Jewish rights comes from Josephus and Philo. Interestingly, neither mentions any Jewish exemption (or even special toleration) from the imperial cult, even though doing so would have served their apologetic purposes.85 To be sure, they are not silent on this issue. Josephus mentions the response in Jerusalem to the cult of the emperor. After explaining how Moses proscribed the manufacture of any human images in order to explain the Jewish refusal to set up images of the emperor, he remarks: He [Moses] did not, however, forbid the payment of homage of another sort, secondary to that paid to God, to worthy men; such honors we do confer upon the emperors and the people of Rome. For them we offer perpetual sacrifices; and not only do we perform these ceremonies daily, at the expense of the whole Jewish community, but, while we offer no other victims in our corporate capacity, even for the imperial family, we jointly accord to the emperors alone this signal honor which we pay to no other individual.86

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See, e.g., Ben Zeev 1998; Ben Zeev 1996; Ben Zeev 1995; Rajak 1985; Rajak 1984. I am greatly indebted esp. to Ben Zeev 1998 in paragraphs that follow. 83 E.g. Smallwood 1976:137: ‘any attempt to force emperor-worship on a protected monotheistic cult would have been a contradiction in terms’. 84 See, e.g., Rabello 1980:703–4 (cf. Juster 1914:1.339–53), but see now Tellbe 2001:46– 9. 85 Despite Tellbe 2001:46–7, who argues (against Ben Zeev 1998:479) that Josephus refers to Jewish exemption on two occasions (AJ XIX.280–5, 306). Neither of these two examples, however, is clear that what is being granted is exemption from the imperial cult. 86 C. Ap. II.77–8; cf. II.196–7. Philo mentions that the sacrifices were paid from the imperial purse (Legat. 157, 317; cf. Legat. 280). A host of modern scholars has attempted to reconcile these two accounts. Representative of this view is Smallwood 1976:148 n. 20: ‘Philo and Josephus may simply be viewing the matter in different lights, if the cost was actually defrayed out of the provincial taxes’ (cf. Ben Zeev 1998:471–2; Smallwood 1976:148). In conversation, J. M. G. Barclay has suggested to me a more likely solution than the standard view: given his political aims, Josephus’s assertion (i.e. that the Jewish community paid for

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Philo similarly states that Jews offered such sacrifices for Caesar and the Roman people twice daily (Legat. 232).87 Despite this clear evidence, most modern scholars have continued to posit that Jews received special exemption from participation in the imperial cult. That these sacrifices were made to the God of Israel and not to the emperor is highly significant for this argument. The sacrifices to which Josephus and Philo refer, after all, were offered not ‘to’ the emperor but to Israel’s God ‘on behalf of’ (u9pe/r) the emperor. A straightforward reading of Philo, who details Gaius’s impatience with Jews for not observing the cult as he would wish, seems to buttress this idea. Gaius accused Jews of being god-haters for being the only nation not to believe him to be a god, and furthermore, Gentile opponents accused them of refusing to sacrifice to the health of the emperor. To the latter accusation, the Jewish embassy responded with indignation: ‘Lord Gaius, we are slandered; we did sacrifice and sacrifice hecatombs too… and we have done this not once but thrice already, the first time at your accession to the sovereignty, the second when you escaped the severe sickness which all the habitable world suffered with you, the third as a prayer of hope for victory in Germany.’ ‘All right,’ he replied, ‘that is true, you have sacrificed, but to another, even if it was for me [u9pe/r]; what good is it then? For you have not sacrificed to me’.88

It is clear enough from the passage above that Gaius had been compelling Jews both to recognize the emperor’s divine nature and to observe the imperial cult, as did the rest of the Roman world. Traditionally, scholars have thus distinguished between Jewish and non-Jewish participation in the imperial cult. Sacrificing on behalf of the emperor was an officially sanctioned substitute form of imperial worship devised and incorporated by Jews. On this reading, Gaius sought to violate this special exemption.89 M. Tellbe, a recent representative of this position, concludes that such exemption was one of the most critical privileges for Jewish survival in the Roman world, ‘a privilege that had been repeatedly affirmed by Rome and that Philo’s hazardous em––––––––––––––––– the sacrifices) was specious. On the subject of imperial dedications to the Temple in Jerusalem, see, e.g., Schürer 1973–87:II.312–13. 87 Cf. Josephus BJ II.197. 88 Legat. 353–7; cf. Legat. 232. 89 Tellbe 2001:47, 49 (cf. Gruen 2002:44–5; Skarsaune 2002:58). Smallwood 1976:148 conjectures that ‘it was most probably at the time of the formation of the [Judean] province, when the normal provincial oath of loyalty to the emperor will have been instituted, that a substitute for the direct worship of the emperor as a deity was devised for Jews: in accordance with their Law, which countenanced prayer and sacrifice for temporal overlords, sacrifices of two lambs and a bull were to be offered daily in the Temple to God for the emperor’s wellbeing, to replace the offering of sacrifices to the emperor himself normal in other provinces’ (cf. Smallwood 1976:137; see also La Piana 1927:376–81, following Juster 1914:I.339–53). In her monograph on Augustus, Simon 1986:98–9 makes the striking comment that Jews were only meant to pray for the emperor.

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bassy to Gaius begged to be repeated’.90 Tellbe argues further that the later Claudian edicts reinstated these Jewish rights and privileges, including the right to special exemption from participating in the imperial cult.91 Two criticisms, however, can be mounted against this view. First, Gaius’s attempt to strip away Jewish exemption from worshipping the emperor should be seen in its wider context. It has been well known among both ancient writers and contemporary scholars that Gaius’s rule was hardly representative of the Julio-Claudian emperors. He was notorious for his narcissistic tendencies, which climaxed with his claim to divinity. Cassius Dio tells us that although in the first instance he refused divine honours, Gaius soon made a radical departure from the protocol of Augustus and Tiberius by maintaining that he was a god: Furthermore, though he at first forbade any one to set up images of him, he even went on to manufacture statues himself; and though he once requested the annulment of a decree ordering sacrifices to be offered to his Fortune, and even caused this action of his to be inscribed on a tablet, he afterwards ordered temples to be erected and sacrifices to be offered to himself as to a god.92

Even in the Emperor Claudius’s letter to the Alexandrians, he called his predecessor’s claim to divinity ‘folly and madness’ (Josephus AJ XVI.280–5), and other Roman biographers and historians made similar judgments. After depicting in detail the so-called divine actions of Gaius, for example, Cassius Dio makes a rather sardonic comment on his assassination, ‘Thus, Gaius, after doing in three years, nine months, and twenty-eight days all that has been related, learned by actual experience that he was not a god’ (Hist. LIX.30.1; cf. LIX.23.4; 26.5–28.7; 29.1 ).93 Seen in this light, a more nuanced picture emerges. Josephus and Philo quite naturally focused in on Jewish concerns, but Gaius’s desire that Jews sacrifice to him as a god was not merely a Jewish phenomenon. Indeed, the crazed emperor was not merely demanding that Jews step beyond their special exemption; with regard to imperial veneration, he was transgressing the modus operandi of his predecessors. It is therefore inaccurate to maintain that

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Tellbe 2001:48–9. Tellbe 2001:49 n. 101 (cf. Josephus AJ XIX.280–91; CPJ II.153). 92 Dio Hist. LIX.4.4 (cf. LIX.3; LIX.26.10). For ancient texts describing the imperial refusals of divine honours among the Julio-Claudians, see, e.g., Suetonius Aug. 52 (Augustus); Dio Hist. LVII.8–9; LVIII.8.4; Tacitus Ann. II.87; IV.37–8; XV.74; Suetonius Tib. 26–7 (Tiberius); Dio Hist. LX.5.4; CPJ II.153 lines 34–40 (Claudius). On the refusal of divine honors by the Julio-Claudians, see esp. Charlesworth 1939; Taylor 1929; Price 1984b:210 (see also p. 24 n. 5 above). 93 Cf. Suetonius Cal. 22.1: ‘So much for Caligula as emperor; we must now tell of his career as a monster’. 91

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Gaius merely excised Jewish privileges.94 Rather, he abused the imperial office on account of his egotistical obsession for divinity.95 When the lense is altered, then, it becomes clear that the Jewish concern during Gaius’s reign represented a broader phenomenon. Claudius later reinstated the right for Jews to observe their customs and laws, but he was not exempting them from participation in the imperial cult. Rather, he was affirming Jewish participation in its traditional form. What is more, the view that Jews had special exemption from participation in the imperial cult does not take into account the evidence for imperial sacrifices in the pagan world. After reading Philo’s testimony (Legat. 353–7), one might expect that the normal sacrificial ritual among the Greeks and Romans of this period was to offer sacrifices to the emperor. Strikingly, the evidence we have regarding the procedures and regulations for imperial cult sacrifices presents quite the opposite picture. S. R. F. Price has discussed at length the language and rituals of imperial sacrifices, and he has masterfully shown that in spite of the divine framework in which the imperial cult festivals and processions were often set, it was quite typical for the Greeks and Romans to offer sacrifices to the gods on behalf of the emperor. He explains that, ‘language sometimes assimilated the emperor to a god, but ritual held back’.96 The Tiberian inscription from Gytheum (A.D. 15), which provides the most elaborate prescription for a local imperial celebration (and which we discussed in Chapter 2),97 is a case in point. Quite strikingly, the inscription stipulates that sacrifices were to be offered (presumably to Asclepius and Hygeia) ‘on behalf of [u9pe/r] the safety of the emperors and gods and their eternal rule’.98 This emphasis may also be seen in the statement from Smyrna that ‘the whole world sacrifices and prays on behalf of [u9pe/r] his eternal duration and uncontested rule’ (2C A.D.).99 After his detailed study of the evidence,

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Cf. the Jewish accusations of atheism during Domitian’s reign (see Smallwood 1976:378–81). On Domitian’s transformation of the imperial cult, see, e.g., Charlesworth 1935:esp. 32–5. 95 For example, Cassius Dio recalls the story of Lucius Vitellius, a successful Roman Senator who, because of his great success, was summoned by Gaius to be put to death. The Senator, however, managed to save his life and even became one of his best friends ‘by calling him many divine names and paying him worship; and at last he vowed that if he were allowed to live he would offer sacrifice to him’ (Hist. LIX.27.2–6, here 5). 96 Price 1984b:207–19, here 213. 97 See p. 43 above. 98 u9pe\r th=j tw~n h9gemo/nwn kai\ qew~n swthri/aj kai\ a0i+di/ou th=j h9gemoni/aj au0tw~n diamonh=j ktl. (SEG XI.922–3 = EJ no. 102, lines 27–31, here lines 28–29); for a brief discussion of this imperial procession, see Price 1984b:210; cf. Charlesworth 1939:2. 99 h9 u9p 0 au0tou= oi0koume/nh qu/ei kai\ eu1xetai u9pe\r th=j ai0wni/ou diamonh=j au0tou= kai\ th=j a0neikh/tou h9gemoni/aj ktl. (IGRR IV.1398, lines 12–13).

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Price even argues that the most important, and perhaps the only, duty of the imperial priests was to make sacrifices ‘on behalf of’ the emperor.100 The ramifications for the present discussion are clear. Thus, Ben Zeev has helpfully applied Price’s conclusions to the current debate over Jewish exemption. She rightly claims that offering sacrifices on behalf of the emperor and not to the emperor was not exclusively a Jewish phenomenon.101 Jews in Jerusalem possessed no special exemption from participating in the cult of the emperor. On the contrary, Josephus and Philo declare that there was willing participation, even to the point of employing the same sacrificial terminology that was emphasized among the Greeks and Romans. Of course, this willingness to participate should be no surprise, as it was the most significant way of exhibiting Jewish submission to Roman rule.102 The argument commonly put forth that Jews had special exemption from participating in the imperial cult is untenable. If Jews in Jerusalem participated (without special tolerance) in the cult of the emperor by making daily sacrifices on behalf of the emperor, how (if at all) did the Jewish communities in the Diaspora contribute to the emperor cult? It is commonly agreed that Jews in the Diaspora did not make sacrifices.103 What is more, participation in imperial celebratory processions was not a viable alternative to many Jews in the Diaspora, as imperial processions were regularly linked with the worship of the pagan gods. As we saw with Gytheum, imperial processions began at the temple, where sacrifices were offered to the gods ‘on behalf of’ (u9pe/r) the emperor’s good health, before parading to the main square. Because there had been long-standing toleration for Jews not to worship Greek and Roman deities, it can safely be assumed that Jews were not compelled to participate in imperial processions that were linked to pagan worship. Of course, non-Jews in general certainly looked with disdain upon Jewish monotheism, but this fact sidesteps the issue of legal ex––––––––––––––––– 100

He has only found one inscription (from Cos) where a sacrifice to the emperor was offered by an imperial priest (Price 1984b:211–12). For sacrifices being offered to the gods on behalf of the emperor and/or the imperial house, see the texts in Price 1984b:210–15 (cf. the literary text Dio Hist. XLIX.24.5). Even the oath of loyalty to Gaius made in Assos (FIRA no. 102 = Johnson no. 160) shows that prayers were made for the emperor’s safety, with a delegation making sacrifices to Jupiter Capitolinus in Rome in the city’s name. 101 Ben Zeev 1998:474–7, building on the work of Price 1984b:209, 220–2. 102 Thus Josephus (BJ II.409–10) explains that the underlying foundation of the Jewish war was the refusal of Jews in Jerusalem to offer sacrifices on behalf of Rome and the emperor. 103 The enigmatic Sardis document in Josephus (AJ XIV.259–61), which gave Jews the right to offer their sacrifices to God, is usually taken to refer to monies being sent to Jerusalem (Sanders 1999:3). Even if sacrifices were made in Sardis, however, there is not enough literary or archaeological evidence elsewhere in the Diaspora to support the conclusion that Jewish sacrifices were a customary practice outside of the Temple in Jerusalem.

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emption. Such a refusal to participate in imperial processions was not seen as politically seditious.104 How then would Jews in the Diaspora have shown adequate honour to the emperor? Perhaps paying the Temple tax to Jerusalem would have been a sufficient display of loyalty to imperial rule. After all, the half-shekel (didrachmon) Temple tax is known to have contributed to the expenses for the daily sacrifices made for the entire Israelite community.105 Such solidarity with Jews in Jerusalem is well established, and one would therefore not be remiss to postulate that Diaspora Jews, through the Temple tax, would have successfully contributed (in absentia) to the cult of the emperor. Diaspora Jews, however, willingly honoured the emperor by other and more noticeable means. Philo refers to the many tributes to the emperor that were torn down in the Alexandrian synagogues, including shields and gilded crowns, slabs, and inscriptions to the emperor Gaius (Philo Legat. 133; cf. In Flacc. 48–50). Josephus too refers to the many honours bestowed to the emperor, including dedicatory ornaments, inscriptions, and oaths of allegiance (Josephus AJ XVIII.124). Epigraphic evidence even tells of a synagogue community in Rome dedicated to the emperor Augustus.106 Indeed, it was not exceptional for Jews to be conspicuous in their honour of the emperor. It is significant that among these imperial honours, archaeological evidence has brought to light honorary inscriptions that were placed in the open courtyards (peri/boloi) of synagogues, containing the dedicatory phrase pro salute Augusti. In Ostia, for example, an inscription dated to the reign of Hadrian reads:107 Pro salute Aug(usti) oi0kodo/mhsen ke\ ai0po/hsen e0k tw~n au[tou doma&twn kai\ th\n Keibw&ton a)ne/qhken no/mw| a(gi/w Mi/ndi(o)j Fau=stoj ME [. . . . . . . .] DIW [. . . .]

For the well being of the Emperor Mindi(u)s Faustus […DIO?…] constructed (the edifice or hall) and made it out of his own gifts, and he set up the ‘ark’ for the sacred law.

––––––––––––––––– 104 Even Gaius’s threats to Alexandrian and Judean Jews for not regarding him to be a god, in the end, came to nothing (e.g. Philo Legat. 367). 105 Skarsaune 2002:91–2; Sanders 1990:283–308; Schürer 1973–87:3.147–48 (cf. Josephus AJ XIV.110; Philo Spec. I.76–8). 106 CIJ I.284, 301, 338, 368, 416, 496. For a detailed discussion of the synagogues in Rome, see Leon 1995:135–66. 107 The text and translation come from White 1998:53–7, who has provided the first official publication (and commentary) on this inscription (cf. Schürer 1973–87:III.82, 104–05). For this phenomenon, including similar health wishes and benefaction inscriptions erected at synagogue sites, see esp. Ben Zeev 1998:477–78, who notes one both in Kasyoun (CIJ II.972) and in Intercissa (cf. Rabello 1980:704 n. 171, citing CIJ II.1432, 1433, 1440–44, all of which contain the u9pe/r construction).

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Interestingly, the Latin introduction to this inscription denotes a terminus technicus for the well being of the emperor.108 A. M. Rabello unfortunately assumes that the phrase pro salute Augusti was ‘a substitute for prayer and sacrifice offered to the Emperor himself’. He further asserts that this substitute form lacked the fervour that characterized pagan (and later Christian) modes of adoration.109 On the contrary, the language of these inscriptions is found to be identical to others that existed among the Greeks and Romans.110 Thus, the formula is also found in an Augustan oath inscription from Baetica (southern Spain) pledging allegiance to the emperor and all the males in his family: pro salute honore victoria imp(eratoris) Caesaris Divi filii Aug(usti).111 The emperor Claudius received similar allegiance: pro salute et reditu et victoria Ti(berii) Claudi(i) Caesaris Aug(usti) Germanici,112 and we have already mentioned the significance of the oaths of allegiance to the emperors in Chapter 2 (all of which date to the first century A.D.).113 Thus, there is evidence that Jews in the Diaspora would have participated in the imperial cult not only through their contributions to the Temple in Jerusalem, but also in their own local contexts (notwithstanding pagan sacrifices), once again employing the same methods as non-Jews to display honour to the emperor.114 Philo even notes the significance of the synagogues in honouring the emperor, saying that without them there was no way to participate in the public veneration of the emperor (see the epigram to this chapter). Jews in the Roman world did not have exemption or even special privileges from participating in the imperial cult. Apparently, they did not need it. They not only willingly honoured the emperor, but also employed the same methods as the Greeks and Romans. At the Temple in Jerusalem, Jews offered daily sacrifices on behalf of the emperor. We know that Jews in the Diaspora refused to participate in pagan worship, but this did not prevent them from ––––––––––––––––– 108

That this inscription was primarily in Greek should be no surprise, since it has been estimated that approximately seventy percent of Jewish inscriptions from Rome are in Greek (see Solin 1983:esp. 701–2, who revised the original estimation of Leon 1995:76–7 from seventy-six percent; cf. White 1998:56 and Van der Horst 1991:22, both of whom follow Solin 1983). 109 Rabello 1980:704 (cf. Juster 1914:I.339–54). 110 White 1998:57 even notes that the formula is found in Ostian Mithraic building inscriptions, one of which seems to come from members of the imperial bureaucracy (CIL III.4800; cf. CIL VI.3768). 111 For the text and commentary, see González 1988. Mentioned in the oath are his adopted sons Gaius and Lucius Caesar and his grandson M. Agrippa Postumus. 112 CIL VI.3751 (cf. CIL VI.918). For other examples of the formula pro salute, see, e.g., CIL VI.940, 2042 (section e. line 25), 3751, and 2040 (section b.c. line 14) (White 1998:56; cf. Ben Zeev 1998:478 n. 73). 113 See pp. 45f. above. 114 For the oath in Judea, see Josephus AJ XVII.42.

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honouring the emperor in other ways that were in conformity with the norms of the wider civic community. Modern interpreters may be tempted to see this phenomenon as a Jewish compromise. It was no such thing. Jews were firm in their resolve neither to have cult statues to the emperor nor to participate in pagan celebrations. Neither of these refusals, however, was politically degenerative or seen as seditious. Far from it, Jews both in Jerusalem and in the Diaspora displayed active participation in the cult of the emperor and demonstrated conspicuous loyalty to Caesar and the imperial house, yet without transgressing Jewish laws or customs. According to Philo, the synagogue was crucial for the Jewish community’s ability to display public loyalty to the emperor (and/or to other benefactors). Being attached to these Jewish communities was therefore paramount for maintaining the expected norms in society with regard to the imperial cult. Without having special exemption from the imperial cult, Jewish communities had clear and defined ways in which they participated in the public veneration of the emperor and his family. 2. Implications for the Imperial Cult Hypothesis We have already discussed in Chapter 2 the evidence showing that the public observance of the imperial cult was not merely encouraged but often even regulated.115 For example, we noted at Gytheum the six-day theatrical festival in honour of Tiberius and his family included very specific instructions regarding the various processions, sacrifices, theatrical performances, and celebratory attire. That the celebration was obligatory for the agoranomos and the ephors is clear from the fine of 2,000 drachmas that would be levied against them for failing to adhere to the regulations of this ‘sacred law’ (i9ero_n no/mon). We also emphasized that these festive and joyous occasions often involved the entire population and not merely the Roman élite. Imperial festivals were a corporate event for colonists and residents alike. In the light of the above discussion on the nature of Jewish participation in the imperial cult, it is quite significant that Jews did not have special exemption from observing the imperial cult, but in fact were active participants along with Gentiles. Regarding the public worship of the emperor, then, we must cast the net broadly. The imperial cult included far more than sacrifices: it had to do with being a member of a community that actively sought to ascribe honour to imperial rule (and to avoid being politically seditious or disruptive). That the synagogues were known for being warehouses for honouring the emperor only reinforces this point, especially if Philo’s comment regarding the synagogue in Alexandria, quoted at the start of this chapter, is representative of other Jewish communities in the Diaspora. ––––––––––––––––– 115

See pp. 42ff above.

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Finally, we are in a better position to answer the important question raised at the outset of this chapter: Was the civic obligation to participate in the imperial cult one of the main concerns of the agitators? Winter’s hypothesis is certainly an attractive proposal. This situation may very well explain why the agitators were compelling the male converts to be circumcised. The agitators were unwilling to undergo persecution. Winter’s proposal, then, helpfully sheds light on the social dimension of the Galatian crisis. Far from being merely a theological concern, the agitators were reflecting upon quite significant social and political concerns for themselves as associates within the Galatian churches. But how are we to envisage the agitators’ tactics in their attempt to have the Galatians circumcised? In answering this question, Winter makes one crucial point that can easily be missed by those seeking to understand his hypothesis. We will now draw this point into the open. Winter correctly argues that the agitators’ true intention in having these Gentile Jesus-believers circumcised (i.e. to avoid persecution) were purposefully concealed from the Galatian churches. Instead of revealing their real motives to Paul’s readers, the agitators employed theological reasons to underpin their claim that they needed to be circumcised. This understanding not only explains why Paul felt it necessary to show through complex theological arguments why his readers must not be circumcised, but also reveals the sheer magnitude of Paul’s statements in the postscript. With Paul’s finale to this letter, they heard for the first time that the agitators’ real intentions in wanting them to be circumcised included a ‘social’ dimension. We could easily imagine the shock on the faces of Paul’s readers as they watched the curtain fall and the agitators’ motives lay bare for all to see. A further observation must now be added to Winter’s hypothesis concerning the agitators’ strategy. The agitators may well have included the threat that they would break ties with Paul’s readers unless the Gentile Jesusbelievers capitulated by being circumcised (4.17–18). This is a subtle point, but it clarifies both the agitators’ practical methods and their true intentions. Their ultimate purpose in having the Gentile Jesus-believers circumcised was not primarily to prevent the Gentile Jesus-believers from being persecuted, although this would be the result of their being circumcised. The real reason for their compulsion was that they themselves might avoid persecution. In addition, this understanding explains why the agitators were not present in the Galatian churches at the time of Paul’s letter – they were unwilling to be persecuted because of the cross of Christ (cf. Gal 4.17). On another crucial issue, however, Winter’s hypothesis is in need of modification. He readily admits that we have no available evidence that would explain how Gentiles might have claimed exemption from participation in the

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imperial cult.116 Nevertheless, he insists that the only immunity from participation in the cult would have been for Paul’s Gentile readers to have placed themselves under the Jewish umbrella through circumcision. This way the Galatian churches would have been able to claim exemption from observing the imperial cult. We have concluded above, however, that the Jewish communities did not have any such exemption. Neither did they claim special status. On the contrary, their civic responsibilities overlapped with those of the dominant Gentile population. If Jews and Gentiles participated in the public veneration of the emperor and his family, Winter’s question regarding Gentile exemption is no longer necessary. Since Jews did not claim exemption from the cult, certainly Gentile Jesus-believers would not have been able to do so either. In this light, we should ask a different question, one which cuts to the heart of the crisis in Galatia: To which ‘normalised’ group in society did the Galatian churches belong? Assuming they had broken away from the local Jewish community/synagogue, these fledgling churches found themselves in ‘no man’s land’, between the synagogue communities on the one hand and the dominant Gentile population on the other, both of which (in their own ways) observed the imperial cult. In an attempt to negotiate their ambiguous status in society regarding their civic obligations to participate in the imperial cult, the agitators were seeking to have the Galatian Gentile Jesus-believers circumcised. This way, all the Jesus-believers, comprised of Jews and (former) Gentiles, could claim full membership in the Jewish communities and thus regulate their status as a group that participated (via the Jewish community) in the public veneration of the emperor. Circumcision would have thus solved the dilemma of persecution that the agitators were seeking so desperately to avoid. Having set out a modification of Winter’s hypothesis, we must now leave room for an alternative scenario. Evidence within Paul’s letter seems to indicate that the agitators were avoiding local Jewish persecution.117 Persecution ––––––––––––––––– 116

See Winter 2002:71, who only mentions evidence from a much later period, from the time of Valerian (A.D. 250–260) as recorded in Eusebius Hist. eccl. VII.11. Stanton 2004:45 has recognised this difficulty, but he has left the question open with the hope that our growing knowledge on the civic obligations to observe the imperial cult will soon resolve this difficulty (see now our discussion of the civic obligations to participate in the imperial cult on pp. 42ff. above and our discussion below). 117 So, e.g., Keesmaat 2004:158. Why would Jewish non-Jesus-believers have persecuted the agitators? We are only given a few hints within the letter. Before believing in Jesus, Paul seems to have persecuted the church because of his zeal for Torah. First, Jesus-believing Jews would perhaps have been charged with disregarding Torah by not requiring Gentiles to become circumcised for full inclusion in the Jewish community. This problem seems at least to be the one reported elsewhere in Acts (15.1–4) , and it may have been the issue in Galatia. Secondly, some zealous Jesus-believing Jews like Paul perhaps considered it necessary to

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is first mentioned in the narrative section, where Paul refers to his persecution of the church, presumably comprised of Jewish Jesus-believers in Judaea. In addition, tucked away in the allegory is a rather cryptic reference to Ishmael persecuting Isaac (4.29a). Although scholars continue to debate how to interpret this verse – whether Ishmael represented the agitators or the non-Jesusbelieving Jews, or whether Isaac represented the Galatian readers or Jewish Jesus-believers118 – it is clearly a reference to Jewish persecution of some sort, which Paul believed to have been applicable in his own day: ‘thus also now’ (4.29b). These references, along with 5.11, seem to support a Jewish backdrop to the persecution. Thus assuming Jewish persecution is in view, J. Muddiman asserts that the root cause of the Galatian crisis is ‘those [Jews] outside the Church who are willing to use all the means of synagogue discipline, namely detention, fines, beatings and excommunication, to pressurize Jewish Christians into demanding that their fellow, non-Jewish, Christians accept circumcision’.119 In the above paragraphs, then, we have set out two possible scenarios: (1) that the agitators were avoiding persecution from the civic authorities for being affiliated with Jesus-believing Gentiles who were no longer observing the cult and (2) that the agitators were avoiding persecution from the larger Jewish communities. Are these two scenarios mutually exclusive? Perhaps they are not. Even if the agitators’ primary concern was to avoid persecution from their fellow Jews, the actual persecution may have been carried out largely by the Gentile civic leaders, who had joined the Jewish community in persecuting this nascent group. This scenario, after all, would be similar to the social setting Luke portrays in Acts 13–14. Nevertheless, taking the evidence from Acts as supplementary evidence (as Winter does), we are still left wondering the precise reason the local authorities joined in persecuting the fledgling church. Unlike the accounts we find in Philippi (16.19–24), Thessalonica (17.1–10a),120 and Corinth (18.12–17), the ––––––––––––––––– mete out discipline on other Jews who claimed Jesus was the Messiah (cf. Gal 3.10–13). Perhaps, however, it is best to see these two reasons intertwined. The recognition of Jesus as Messiah would have meant not only that Israel was redeemed from the curse of the Law, but also that Gentiles would be included as God’s people without circumcision. Jewish communities in Galatia were likely persecuting the agitators for either one or perhaps both of the reasons given above. At any rate, it seems clear that the agitators, unlike Paul, were unwilling to undergo that persecution. Instead, they preached persecution in order to avoid persecution because of the cross of Christ. 118 It seems that in this allegory Ishmael represented non-Jesus-believing Jews and Isaac represented Jewish Jesus-believers (including the agitators). Thus, one of the primary aims of the allegory was to show the Galatian readers that the agitators and other Jewish Jesusbelievers were continually persecuted by other Jews. 119 Muddiman 1994:261. 120 For the judicial episode in Thessalonica, see Hardin 2006.

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reasons for persecution in Acts 13–14 remain frustratingly vague. There are no hints that the imperial cult looms behind the narrative of Acts 13–14, and the persecution itself seems not to be much more than mob violence (13.50; 14.5–6; 14.19). For this reason, although we conclude that it is probable the agitators’ motives were related to civic obligations to observe the imperial cult, we accept that the proposals set out in the preceding paragraphs are tentative.

Conclusions In this chapter we have evaluated the view that the imperial cult was the background to Paul’s accusations in the finale of this letter. We began with a discussion of 6.12–13, where Paul reveals the agitators’ motives in compelling the addressees to be circumcised. We concluded that the primary motive was the agitators’ desire to secure a good status in the flesh in order to avoid persecution for the cross of Christ (6.12). We then turned to the view that looming behind these charges was the agitators’ desire to evade civic reprisals for being affiliated with Gentiles who no longer observed the public worship of the emperor. In order not to be considered a suspect group by associating with these Gentile Jesus-believers, the agitators were compelling them to receive circumcision in order to look Jewish to the civic authorities. In order to strengthen this theory, we discussed three related matters. First, we determined that the agitators were local Jewish Jesus-believers who had recently broken ties with Paul’s readers. The agitators neither travelled to Galatia from Jerusalem, nor were they influenced by events in Jerusalem. The Galatian crisis was a local one. Secondly, we concluded that Paul’s statements regarding the agitators’ motives in Gal 6.12–13 represent trustworthy information about the Galatian situation. Rather than dismissing these verses as an unreliable outburst, we insisted that the actual charges accord well both with Paul’s rhetorical aim of contrasting himself with the opponents and with the theme of persecution found throughout the letter. Finally, we evaluated the claim that the Jews were exempt from the obligation to observe the imperial cult. We have observed that Jewish communities in the Diaspora actively participated in the imperial cult by setting up honorary inscriptions to the emperor in their synagogues. In the light of this evidence, we maintained that it is probable that the key issue was the relationship of the Galatian churches to the larger Jewish community. At this point, Winter’s thesis requires modification. Winter proposed that circumcising the Galatian Jesus-believers ‘was one way of convincing the authorities that Christianity was a part of a religio licita’.121 ––––––––––––––––– 121

Winter 2002:75.

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In this chapter, however, we have proposed that the agitators’ aim was not to claim exemption for Jesus-believers from the imperial cult, but to remove any status ambiguity in society by joining one of the two ‘normalised’ groups (in this case, the Jewish community), both of which participated in the imperial cult. We have also suggested the possibility that the agitators were hoping to avoid persecution from the local Jewish communities, who may have been the initial impetus for civic reprisals by reporting this nascent group to the local authorities. The reconstruction we have set out in this chapter is tentative, but, we hope, responsible in its exegesis of the relevant passages in Galatians and in its use of the available historical and archaeological evidence for the social setting of the Galatian churches. We are confident that it is more plausible than any of the other explanations of the agitators’ motives which have been advanced. At the end of this investigation, another question now rises to the surface: If the agitators in Galatia were under threat of persecution, can we assume that the Gentile Jesus-believers (Paul’s readers) in Galatia were under any social or political pressure as well? We know that circumcision was an alternative that the Gentile Jesus-believers were contemplating (5.2–6), but do we have any indication in Paul’s letter that they were attempting to regulate their status by re-assimilating into the dominant polytheistic community? It is to the social/political ramifications for the addressees that we now turn.

Chapter 5 (WUNT), rev. 15:05, 12/1/07

Chapter 5

‘Days, Months, Seasons, Years’ and the Imperial Cult (Gal 4.10)? In the past, December (when the feast of Saturnalia was held) was a month; now it is a year. – Seneca Ep. 18.11

Introduction In the previous chapter we evaluated the possibility that the imperial cult serves as the proper backdrop from which to understand the agitators’ desire to avoid persecution for the cross of Christ. We must now turn to another passage in Galatians, which may refer to the imperial cult. Unlike the previous chapter, however, we will focus our attention upon Paul’s readers with the hopes of gaining a better vantage point from which to view the Galatian crisis. In this regard, we might do well to recall the legendary sleuth from Baker Street, who quite regularly commented on the inverse nature of his investigations. More often than not, Holmes would remind Dr. Watson, the most complicated cases contain the very simplest of solutions while the seemingly obvious crimes are usually the most difficult to bring home. Of course, in this chapter we are not endeavouring to solve any of the cold cases of Scotland Yard, but in another sense we will be doing our own sort of detective work in the Galatian letter, attempting to fill in the necessary gaps, as the student of the NT is wont to do. To be sure, we will not attempt to answer the most complicated questions (e.g. the pi/stij Xristou= debate or the precise meaning of to\n no/mon tou= Xristou=). Instead, we will be asking a seemingly featureless question in order to determine whether the assumed answer overlooks a more complex situation in the Galatian churches. The question is the following: To which religious calendar does ‘days, months, seasons, and years’ in Galatians 4.10 refer? In order to answer this question we will evaluate the traditional view that Gal 4.10 refers to the Jewish calendar before exploring an alternative explanation that it refers to the calendar of the imperial cult. Then we will evaluate ––––––––––––––––– 1

‘Olim mensem Decembrem fuisse, nunc annum’ (my translation). I am grateful to Mr Ryan Jackson for this reference.

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how this interpretation might be harmonised with the rest of the Galatian letter, and in doing so, we hope to provide a fresh hypothesis for the situation in the Galatian churches. Our aim in this investigation, then, is to determine whether Holmes’s observation may hold true not only for our question of the calendar in 4.10, but also for our understanding of the Galatian crisis. And much akin to Holmes’s own sensitivity to the complexities of historical reconstruction, we must investigate with much care all the facts in order to determine the most probable scenario. After probing the meaning of days, months, seasons, and years in Gal 4.10, it may become apparent that the question – What were the Galatians doing at the time of Paul’s letter? – is actually more complex than has often been assumed.

A. Gal 4.10 in Interpretation At the time of Paul’s letter, the Galatian Jesus-believers had not yet been circumcised.2 We can be sure of this conclusion for the primary reason that had they already taken this step, Paul’s letter would have missed the mark entirely, especially given statements such as Gal 5.2: ‘Behold! I, Paul, am telling you that if you get circumcised, Christ will be of no advantage to you’ (5.2) and his confidence only a few verses later that their journey to the ‘dark side’ would not be complete: ‘I am confident about you in the Lord that you will consider nothing else, but the one disturbing you will bear the judgment, whoever he might be’ (5.10). Furthermore, at the time of Paul’s letter, the agitators were compelling – present (progressive) tense – the Galatians to be circumcised. In short, had the Galatian Jesus-believers already been circumcised, Paul’s letter would have been misguided and moot, crying, as it were, over the proverbial spilled milk. To be sure, they were currently engaged in practices with which Paul took serious issue. The only explicit evidence we have regarding their activities comes from two statements within the letter itself. The first clue, rather ambiguous but nevertheless instructive, follows on the heels of the letter opening. In lieu of his customary thanksgiving and prayer, Paul offers a stern rebuke, stating his amazement that they were so quickly turning away from (metati/qesqe) the one who called them to another gospel (1.6).3 A more spe––––––––––––––––– 2

Despite the suggestion of some interpreters that at least some of the Galatians had probably been circumcised, there remains no clear evidence from the letter to support this conjecture. Nanos 2002b:30 is correct to maintain that although the Galatians had internalised the compulsion of the agitators (cf. Gal 1.6–7; 3.1–5; 4.16), at the time of Paul’s letter they had not actually actualised this compulsion (so also Betz 1979:217). 3 White 2003, who argues unconvincingly that Paul was referring in Gal 1.6; 5.8 to defection from himself as the one who called them. The implied subject, however, is certainly God,

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cific charge against the Galatians, however, comes in the wake of the theological centrepiece of the letter (4.1–7) and immediately prior to Paul’s petition to ‘Become as I’ (4.12). After sketching the Galatians’ former slavery ‘to those which by nature are not gods’ (toi=j fu/sei mh_ ou]sin qeoi=j), Paul asks the Galatian Christians how they could turn back (e0pistre/fete) to those weak and worthless stoixei=a by observing ‘days, months, seasons, and years’ (4.10).4 1. Gal 4.10 as Jewish Calendar Observances It has traditionally been assumed that the meaning of Gal 4.10 becomes clear when we consider the compulsion of the agitators. On the verge of being circumcised and submitting to the Mosaic Law, the Galatian Jesus-believers had already turned to the scrupulous observance of the Jewish religious calendar. There are several problems with this assumption. First is the method employed. Often interpreters have read the rest of the letter back into 4.10 and then concluded that observing the Jewish calendar must have been part of the agitators’ message. This methodological practice goes back as far as Victorinus’s commentary on Galatians from the fourth century, in which he interprets 4.8–10 in the light of the agitators’ circumcising message found elsewhere in the letter.5 Modern commentators have naturally taken a similar path. For example, R. Longenecker acknowledges that the only evidence we have for defining the agitating message is in Gal 1.6–9 and 6.12–13, but he implicitly supplements this information with the information found in 4.10: The closest thing we get to a clear description of Paul’s opponents in Galatians is in the opening statement of 1:6–9 and 6:11–18. In the first of these passages we learn that the agitators were perverting the gospel and throwing believers into confusion…. In the postscript we are told that they were promoting circumcision for Gentile Christians…. It is, therefore, these two passages that must hold center stage in any attempt to characterize the opponents…. Paul’s opponents… came… stressing the need for Gentiles to be circumcised and to keep the rudi-

––––––––––––––––– not Paul (see Gal 1.15, where Paul was called by God; cf. also Rom 8.30; 9.24; 1 Cor 7.15, 17–24; 1 Thess 2.12; 4.7; 5.24 ; 2 Thess 2.14; 2 Tim 1.9). 4 Betz 1979:217–18 (who follows Eckert 1971:92–93 and Mußner 1974:301–2), argues that the present tense in 4.10 (parathrei=sqe) is not progressive but tendential/conative (i.e. the Galatians were not yet observing the calendar) and thus concludes that ‘the statement gives us no clue to what the Galatians are presently doing’ (see also Witherington 1998:299– 300). Lightfoot 1896:171, however, along with the majority of commentators (see esp. Bruce 1982:205; Dunn 1993:227–9), is correct to point out that the verb in 4.10 is progressive. Indeed, Gal 4.10 is the only clue in the letter regarding what the Galatians were actually doing at the time Paul wrote to the Galatian churches. 5 For the English translation of Victorinus’s commentary, along with an introduction and notes, see now Cooper 2005.

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ments of the cultic calendar, both for full acceptance by God and as a proper Christian lifestyle.6

Although it is certainly possible that the agitators were compelling the Galatians to observe the Jewish calendar, this is nowhere stated in the letter. In this respect, we would do well to heed the methodological guidelines of J. M. G. Barclay, who has warned that statements by Paul do not necessarily imply that the agitators were saying the opposite, or that the actions of the Galatians were necessarily directed by agitating hands.7 Because 4.10 is the only explicit reference in the letter betraying the current practices of the Galatian Jesus-believers, we would therefore do well to begin here. Secondly, many interpreters in the past have understood Gal 4.10 on the basis of Col 2.16, the latter of which certainly refers at least to some form of Jewish religious observances because of its explicit mention of festivals (e9orth~j), new moons (neomhni/aj), and Sabbaths (sabba&twn). A growing number of commentators, however, are pointing out that Gal 4.10 and Col 2.16 must in the first instance be interpreted in their own contexts.8 Just be––––––––––––––––– 6

Longenecker 1990:xcv (emphasis added). See also Martyn 1997:412: ‘That the Galatians are following the Teachers in observing certain holy times is taken by Paul as a sure sign that they are in the process of returning to the veneration of the cosmic elements’. Martyn 1997:412–18, here 415, to be sure, believes that Paul’s rebuke in 4.8–10 was actually directed against the Teachers, who were accusing Paul of failing to teach the Galatian churches how to abandon their former pagan idolatry (worshipping the elements). According to Martyn, the Teachers must have convinced the Galatians that they should display their knowledge of God by ‘celebrating the holy times ordained by him in his Law, and doing so at the junctures fixed by the activity of his servants, the astral elements’ (see p. 120 n. 10 below). What seems less likely is the suggestion of Lührmann 1978:431 (followed by Martyn 1997; cf. Dunn 1993:223–30) that the debate in Galatians was over which calendar (lunar or solar) would be employed in determining the timing of the Jewish festivals. Much of this line of reasoning stems from hanging too much weight on the verb ‘to observe’ (parathrou=n) (see e.g. Lightfoot 1896:171; BDAG; Schlier 1962:203 n. 3; Fung 1988:192) as well as from importing the debates on this issue in some Second Temple texts back into Galatians. For example, citing Jub 6.32–35 and 1 Enoch 82.7,9, Dunn 1993:228–9 concludes that ‘Paul was not necessarily confronting a uniform Jewish position on such matters. His was a further alternative (observance not necessary) within the spectrum of Jewish opinion, itself part of the factionalism which marred the latter decades of second-Temple Judaism’ (cf. Schlier 1962:204–5; Mußner 1974:298–301). One of the problems with Dunn’s argument is that Paul goes further in asserting that these observances were tantamount to apostasy. This view could hardly have been a legitimate conviction within the spectrum of Judaism. In addition, in Gal 4.10 Paul gives no impression that the observances involved debates regarding when these events were to be observed; he simply criticises the Galatians for observing them at all. 7 Barclay 1988:40 (cf. also Barclay 1987:esp. 86, where he nevertheless assumes that the Galatians were observing the Jewish calendar). 8 Lührmann 1980:430; Martyn 1997:416 (e.g. Lightfoot 1896:171; Fung 1988:192–3). Although in principle Matera 1992:150 agrees that it is best not to interpret the term stoixei=on

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cause Col 2.16 clearly refers to some portions of the Jewish religious calendar does not necessarily mean that the general list in Gal 4.10 refers to the same calendar.9 Thirdly, interpreters have long since noted the ambiguity of the terms h(me/ra, mh/n, kairo/j, and e0niauto/j.10 Despite the rather colourless terms, scholars have often assumed that h(me/raj refers to Sabbaths, mh=naj to new moons, and kairou/j to Jewish celebrations such as Passover and Pentecost.11 What is meant by e0niautou/j has been more problematic, but either the Sabbatical year or the year of Jubilees (or both) has been offered as the most likely options.12 That Paul does not actually employ any Jewish terms, however, should at least give us pause before assuming a priori that they refer to Jewish observances. Fourthly, additional evidence in the Pauline corpus (and in Acts) seems to suggest that Paul was not at all critical of the Jewish calendar, but even continued to orient his life around it. When writing to the Corinthian church, for example, Paul informed the Corinthians of his travel plans – namely, that he intended to remain in Ephesus until Pentecost (1 Cor 16.8). It is very unlikely that Paul was simply referring to a season of favourable weather patterns during which to travel, at least this is not the reason Paul provides in verse nine.13 ––––––––––––––––– in Gal 4.3, 9 on the basis of Col 2.8, 20, when it comes to the identification of the calendar in Gal 4.10, he nevertheless relies upon Col 2.16 (Matera 1992:152–3). 9 Perkins 2001:81 argues the interesting view that in order to persuade the Galatians to terminate their observances, Paul referred to the Jewish calendar with a generic list so as to convey that these observances were no different from pagan superstition, which the Galatians would have thought contemptible. We unfortunately have no information to confirm their sensibilities regarding superstitions, and other scholars have argued just the opposite, that the Galatian Christians came from a highly superstitious culture, from which Paul was encouraging them to break free (e.g. Jewett 1971:210–11; Betz 1979:217–18). 10 Harvey 1968:324 (followed by Fung 1988:193) states that a parallel passage in Justin Dial. 8 confirms that in Gal 4.10 Paul meant Jewish observances, but in fact Justin does not employ any of the terms from Gal 4.10 but only those from Col 2.16. Martyn 1997:416–17 explains that Gen 1.14 serves as the proper background for this list, in that Paul was relegating all holy times and seasons to the ‘realm ruled over by the enslaving elements’, but it is unclear from Galatians that they were concerned about distinguishing holy times from profane ones, especially with regard to debates over the solar and lunar calendars. He is certainly right, however, to state that in whatever they were doing in 4.10, ‘the Galatians are behaving as though Christ had not come, thereby showing that they do not know what time it is’ (418) (see p. 145 n. 121 below). 11 E.g. Martyn 1997:416. 12 Ramsay 1900:396 argues that the Galatian Christians might not have actually had an opportunity to observe the Sabbatical year, but that the verse should be understood in the sense of ‘are you about to enslave yourselves to the whole series of their feeble and poor ceremonies?’ Of course, this position still does not solve the problem as to what ‘years’ actually refers. 13 Pace Thiselton 2000:1329–30.

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Presumably, he would observe the festival of Pentecost while in Ephesus (see also Acts 20.16).14 At any rate, it seems that Paul would have selected his method of reckoning time quite differently had he opposed the Jewish calendar, if for the simple reason to discourage the Corinthian church from participating in the Jewish festival.15 In Gal 4.8–10, on the other hand, Paul rebukes his readers for observing days, months, seasons, and years, and explains that such practices were tantamount to worshipping the false gods from which they had been converted. If Paul was referring to the Jewish calendar, one is then at a loss to reconcile this unqualified statement with the evidence in 1 Corinthians (and Acts). At the very least, we would expect Paul to have provided some caveat at this point. That Paul opposed Gentile circumcision is clear, but that he was also critical of the Jewish calendar is far from certain. Finally, and more tentatively, one might question how the observance of the Jewish religious calendar would have appeased the situation of the Galatian churches, since it seems clear that the sine qua non for acceptance among the agitators was circumcision. Martin notes that the observance of the Jewish calendar ‘is useless because the Galatians remain shut out (Gal 4.17) unless they take the necessary step of circumcision’.16 One might posit in response that the Galatians were observing the Jewish calendar as a prelude to circumcision, but then one wonders how uncircumcised Gentiles, despite being permitted to observe the Sabbath and to be loosely connected with the synagogue, could be permitted (much less compelled) to observe the annual festivals (e.g. Passover) when the Mosaic Law clearly forbade the inclusion of uncircumcised Gentiles in these seasonal feasts.17 To suggest conclusively that the Galatians were observing the Jewish calendar before being circumcised (presumably in the midst of the Jewish community) runs up against these more practical problems. In short, although it has been assumed that Gal 4.10 refers to the Jewish calendar, there are difficulties with this understanding. Several commentators have acknowledged that, due to the general nature of this list, either Jewish or pagan observances are in view. This latter option therefore merits our careful consideration.

––––––––––––––––– 14

Cf. Ross 1992, who has made an attractive case for the longer reading of Acts 18.21: ‘I must by all means keep the approaching feast in Jerusalem, but I will return to you if God wills’. 15 Interestingly, Paul’s statement assumes that the Corinthian church had learned the specific date of Passover, information they must have received from the synagogue authorities (cf. 1 Cor 5.8). 16 Martin 1996:113. 17 E.g. Exod 12.43–51.

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2. Gal 4.10 as a Reference to the Imperial Cult H. D. Betz was not the first to note that the activities of observing days, months, seasons, and years ‘are not exclusively Jewish’.18 The possibility that Gal 4.10 refers to the pagan calendar goes as far back as Origen, who quotes this verse in his treatise against Celsus. According to Origen’s testimony, Celsus asserted that Christians should partake of the public pagan feasts because God is without envy or need. In response, Origen argues that because pagan feasts are contrary to the worship of God, Christians are correct to refrain from participation. In support of this position he then appeals to Paul by quoting Gal 4.10–11: ‘For this reason also Paul seems to me to have said very finely: “Do you observe days and months and times and years? I am afraid for you lest by any means I have bestowed labour on you in vain”’.19 More recently, two independent studies have carried this notion further down this path.20 T. Martin has suggested, on the basis of rhetorical stasis theory, that the Galatians, having rejected the agitating message, had returned to paganism. On his view, the primary charge (prima conflictio) Paul makes against the Galatian Christians comes in Gal 4.10, which refers not to Jewish observances at all, but to the pagan religious calendar.21 T. Witulski also has ––––––––––––––––– 18

Betz 1979:217–18 states that ‘the cultic activities described in v 10 are not typical of Judaism (including Jewish Christianity)’ and that ‘It portrays the Galatians as conforming to the religious character of the deisidai/mwn (“religiously scrupulous” or even “superstitious”)’. 19 Origen Cels. 8.21. Even more striking is the fact that he then proceeds to defend why the Christians observe the Christian calendar by using the common Jewish terms such as ‘Preparation’, ‘Passover’, and ‘Pentecost’ (8.22–4). For the standard critical edition of Contra Celsum, see Koetschau 1899:vols 1–2. For a more modern critical edition and French translation, see Borret (1967–76). For the standard English translation, based on Koetschau’s text, as well as a helpful introduction and bibliography, see Chadwick 1965. In his commentary on Galatians, St. Augustine of Hippo declares that Gal 4.10 could be interpreted as either Jewish or pagan observances (Epist. ad Gal. 34.1–36.8; for the standard English translation, along with a helpful introduction and notes, see now Plumer 2003:here 184–7). Augustine’s line of reasoning was that Paul would attack any form of superstition, whether Jewish or pagan. In the end, however, he decides that the Jewish calendar would fit the context of the letter more naturally. 20 Two additional scholars could be mentioned here as well: Nanos 2002b:267–70 and Stanton 2004:41–3 (discussing in brief the view of Witulski 2000:esp. 152–68); cf. Le Cornu and Shulam 2005; Martin 1995; Martin 1996; Cole 1989:164–5. 21 See Martin 1995, Martin 1996 (see also Martin 1999 and Martin 2003). Martin’s rhetorical analysis (Martin 1995:437–45) is highly technical and somewhat tortuous. After the primary charge in 4.10, Paul anticipates that the Galatians will claim that they are innocent in their pagan observances since Paul had failed to mention that they must be circumcised to be Christians (an option the Galatians had rejected). Thus, Paul’s second charge (secunda controversia) comes in 1.6–9, where he asserts that they were at fault for turning away from God to another gospel (1.6–9), to which they would respond by stating their innocence by shifting the blame (meta&stasij) onto the agitators for their nomistic compulsion. On this view, then,

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argued that Gal 4.10 does not refer to the Jewish religious calendar.22 In an extensive study on Gal 4.8–20 against the background of the imperial cult, Witulski argues that days, months, seasons, and years in 4.10 refers to the public celebrations of the emperor and his family that packed the civic calendar. Witulski supports this hypothesis by appealing both to dedicatory inscriptions regarding the emperor cult and to the new Julian calendar itself.23 ‘Days’ would refer to various celebrations held in honour of the emperor’s birthday.24 By the time of Claudius, such days packed the civic diary with public sacrifices and feasts, games, and other celebrations,25 not only on the emperors’ (past and present) birthdays, but also on the birthdays of significant members of the imperial family, as we have seen in Chapter 2.26 ––––––––––––––––– the argument of the letter seeks to remove both of the Galatians’ objections by invalidating the agitators and their nomistic activities. Although one may quibble either with Martin’s overall conclusions or his elaborate use of rhetorical criticism, his thorough analysis of Paul’s argument brings fresh light to the situation at hand and therefore deserves careful consideration. Few scholars, unfortunately, have taken Martin’s provocative thesis seriously (see, however, Cole 2001). In a throwaway line, for example, Martyn 1997:21 n. 6 asserts that Martin’s thesis is ‘so fanciful as to have the effect of suggesting a moratorium of some length in this branch of research’ (given Martyn’s injudicious use of mirror-reading throughout his recent commentary on Galatians [e.g. Martyn 1997:302–06, 367, 399–40], it seems clear that the proverbial pot just called the kettle black). 22 Witulski 2000:esp. 158–68 (for his critique of the traditional view, see Witulski 2000:152–7; see also his English summary in Witulski 2002). 23 Much of his evidence is gathered from the works of Herz 1975 and Samuel 1972. 24 Witulski 2000:158–60. 25 Price 1984b:103–4 notes that ‘Imperial celebrations were organized both irregularly and regularly. The accession of a new emperor or the receipt of good news [eu0agge/lia] about the emperor in the course of his reign were met with rejoicings…. There was also a regular cycle of celebrations. One way in which the emperor was brought into the life of the community was by adapting a traditional festival in honour of the chief local deity. The emperor was often brought into close relationship with the traditional gods of the city, in joint dedications, in assimilations and in identifications’. 26 Witulski notes that the birthday of Julius Caesar (12 July) would have been celebrated as well as the day of the ludi Victoriae divi Caesaris (20 July). Celebrations were held on 1 Aug in Alexandria for Augustus’s title pontifex maximus (given on 1 Aug 30 B.C.). In addition, the birthdays of his grandchildren Gaius and Lucius Caesar were celebrated (the birth of Drusus gained observance later). Although the birthday of Livia (20 Jan), the wife of Augustus, had no official holiday during Augustus’s lifetime, it was celebrated (along with the date of her divinity, 17 Jan) by his successors Tiberius, Caligula, and Claudius. During the reign of Tiberius, both his date of adoption by Augustus (26 June) and his birthday (16 Nov) were celebrated. As with Augustus, the lives of significant family members (on their birthdays but also in some cases in memory of their death) were celebrated (e.g. Germanicus, Drusus II, the elder Agrippina, Nero, Drusus III) (see Herz 1975:15). Caligula, combining his birthday (31 Aug) and the inauguration of the Augustan Temple in Rome (30 Aug), had a two-day celebration in his honour. For special days celebrated during the time of Claudius, see Herz 1975:19.

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According to Witulski, months could have two referents with regard to the imperial cult.27 It could refer either to the names of the fifth and sixth months, Quintilis and Sextilis,28 which were renamed Julius and Augustus under the new Julian calendar, or more inclusively to the new Julian calendar itself.29 In this regard, the strongest evidence he puts forth on this interpretation comes from the calendar inscription of the Asian koinon, which we have already discussed in Chapter 2. There we noted that this new calendar was in operation at least in one city of Augustan Galatia (Attaleia). Witulski suggests that both the specific honorary months and the entire calendar, as seen in this inscription, are in view.30 The term ‘seasons’ would refer to longer imperial feasts and festivals (which would include games) of the civic calendar.31 He gives room, however, for another interpretation – the fasti that organised the common person’s working day.32 On this interpretation, the days were not merely the observed festivals and holidays, ‘sondern wäre vielmehr zu begreifen im Sinne von „rechten Zeiten“ bzw. „festgelegten Zeiten“’.33 Evidence for special ‘years’ may be found with Augustus’s Res Gestae, the remains of which have been discovered in Ancyra (in Greek and Latin), Apollonia, and Pisidian Antioch (in Latin). The Res Gestae states that every fifth year vows would be taken for Augustus’s health and games would be held.34 Celebrations of this sort, in fact, were often held annually even when the games were not.35 Witulski then concludes that ‘diese von Paulus hier aufgezählten Begriffe legen einen Bezug auf die kultische Verehrung der römischen Kaiser vielmehr weitaus näher als einen Bezug auf alttestamentliche oder jüdisch-apokalyptische Kontexte’.36 If Gal 4.10 does in fact refer to the festal calendar of the emperor cult, are there any interpretative clues within the immediate context of Gal 4.8–9 that ––––––––––––––––– 27 Witulski 2000:160–5. What could be added is that some cities, such as Mytilene of Asia Minor actually sacrificed each month on behalf of the emperor (see Price 1984b:105). In addition, in Ephesus the image of Artemis and busts of the imperial family were carried from the temple of Artemis (where they were housed) to the theatre, where new moon sacrifices were made in the high priestly year (Price 1984b:104). 28 March was the first month of the Roman calendar. 29 On the success of the Julian calendar, Samuel 1972:188 concludes that it ‘destroyed all the ancient calendars in Greece, and all but the Hebrew calendar in the Eastern provinces’. 30 See further Scott 1931a:210–22 for the religious significance of these honorary months. 31 Witulski 2000:165–6. 32 See Samuel 1972:153–4. 33 Witulski 2000:166. 34 Witulski 2000:166–7. 35 Price 1984b:105. 36 Witulski 2000:167. Witulski also refers to Georgi 1994:57, who comments that feasts and festival days in Roman culture and religion had much greater significance than they did in Jewish religion.

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could bolster this interpretation? In Gal 4.8–11 Paul questions how (pw~j) his readers could turn from God, who had sent forth ‘the Spirit of His son’ into their hearts (4.6–7), to the enslaving stoixei=a: 8

But formerly not knowing God, you were slaves to those which by nature are not gods (toi=j fu&sei mh_ ou}sin qeoi=j). 9 But now knowing God, or rather being known by God, how are you turning again to the weak and destitute stoixei=a, to whom you are wanting to be slaves all over again? 10 You are observing days and months and seasons and years! I fear for you, lest I have laboured over you in vain.

Observing the calendar was indicative of their return to slavery under those very stoixei=a to which they were subject before their conversion, being enslaved ‘to the gods that are not gods by nature’ (toi=j fu&sei mh_ ou]sin qeoi=j). What does the adjectival phrase fu&sei mh_ ou]sin mean?37 On this phrase Betz has pointed to the Hellenistic differentiation (Euhemerism) between gods ‘by nature’ (fu/sij) and gods ‘by official recognition’ (qe/sij), which early Christian apologists utilised when arguing against religious pluralism.38 If Paul was employing this technique of speaking about the ––––––––––––––––– 37

There are two grammatical possibilities for understanding the adjectival construction: (1) fu&sei mh_ ou]sin modifies qeoi=j (the more natural syntactically), ‘to the gods that are not [gods] by nature’; or (2) the participle ou]sin is used substantively, with qeoi=j as the predicate, ‘to those things that by nature are not gods’. Traditionally, commentators have pointed out that in the former Paul grants that these ‘gods’ do, in fact, exist (cf. 1 Cor 8.5; 10.20–1), while in the latter he denies their existence de facto (see e.g. Lightfoot 1896:170–1; Burton 1921:228–9; and now Witherington 1998:297 for the adjectival usage; see e.g. Matera 1992:152 for the substantival). It should be noted here that a few textual witnesses (e.g. Irenaeus’s Latin translation) omit the word ‘nature’ fu&sij. Such an omission is not surprising given its puzzling relationship with the rest of the clause. Most scholars do not attempt to identify these deities, but some have assumed they were either the astronomical elements (sun, moon, stars) and/or the Celtic deities of central Anatolia (e.g. Betz 1979:213; EDNT, ‘fu&sij’ s.v.). It must be noted, however, that the ‘gods’ (qeoi~) of 4.8 and the ‘elements’ (stoixei=a) of 4.9 (cf. 4.3) are two distinct entities in these verses and should not be amalgamated. Furthermore, it should be noted that calendar observance (4.10) in the ancient world was not synonymous with the worship of astronomical elements (Witherington 1998:297 n. 4). Regarding the local deities of central Anatolia, the influence of Celtic culture on the urbanised areas of Roman Galatia should not be exaggerated. Care should also be taken not to import wholesale the Celtic history of pre-Roman Galatia into Roman Galatia. From the other end of the chronological spectrum, while these Roman colonies were eventually eclipsed by Hellenistic and local culture, this phenomenon did not begin until well after the NT era (for the decline of a distinctly Roman influence, see Levick 1967:130–83). At any rate, one should keep in mind that the imperial cult was so integrated into the worship of pagan gods that it flourished even in areas with long-standing Hellenistic cults (e.g. Artemis in Ephesus). 38 See the discussion in TDNT, ‘fu&sij ktl.’ s.v., and Betz 1979:214–15 (cf. Dunn 1993:224, who concludes that ‘by nature’ is more philosophical – particularly Stoic – in nature). For the early Christian apologists, see e.g. Lactantius Divine Institutes VIII.1–8; XIII.1–

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gods, he was relegating their existence to the human convention of acknowledging the gods (qe/sij).39 Interestingly, this understanding corresponds well with the deification of the emperors, who were not gods by nature but were regarded as divine by declaration of the Senate. The first-century historian Diodorus of Sicily, for example, states: Certain of the gods, they say, are eternal and imperishable, such as the sun and the moon and the other stars of the heavens, and the winds as well and whatever else possesses a nature similar to theirs…. But the other gods, we are told, were terrestrial beings who attained to immortal honour and fame because of their benefactions to mankind.40

That this understanding is in view is further supported in 1 Cor 8.1–6, which most commentators have considered to be a parallel passage with Gal 4.8.41 In his discussion on food offered to idols (1 Cor 8.1–13), Paul refers to the gods as ‘so-called’ (oi9 lego/menoi) gods in heaven or on the earth, and he denies the existence of the gods represented by idols (1 Cor 8.1–6). Most commentators note, however, that later in 10.14–22 Paul actually affirms that to participate in paganism would be to participate with demons; thus, he acknowledges that the idol represents a true demonic existence. What could be added in this regard is the observation by B. W. Winter, who has argued that the description ‘so-called’ (lego/menoi) gods in 1 Cor 8.5 refers to those that are ‘popularly but erroneously so designated’.42 After reviewing the prominent presence of the imperial cult in Corinth, Winter concludes that ‘the deified living emperor and members of the imperial family would have been identified as divinities “upon the earth” in contrast to “those in the heaven”’ and therefore ‘were identified among the “so-called gods” (lego&menoi qeoi/) i.e. popularly but erroneously called gods’.43 In this light, it seems likely that Paul’s reference to the gods in 4.8 at least would have included those deified rulers and their family members, who were by nature (fu&sij) mortal humans but were venerated as gods by human con––––––––––––––––– XV.3 (for an English translation of Lactantius’s Divine Institutes, along with introduction and notes, see now Bowen and Garnsey 2003). 39 For a discussion of the official acknowledgement of new gods in Athens and the often misunderstood ‘trial’ of Paul at the Areopagus in Acts 17.16–34, see Winter 1996:71–90 (cf. Garland 1992:esp. 18–19). 40 Diodorus Siculus VI.1.2; cf. III.9.1 (for Diodorus Siculus as a historian from the firstcentury A.D., see Sacks 1990); see also Plato Leg. 10.889E, 904A). For the Stoic differentiation between 1) the gods and natural forces (to_ fusiko&n), 2) gods of the poets (to_ muqiko&n), and 3) gods of the state (to_ nomiko&n), see TDNT, ‘fu&sij ktl.’, 9.256). We find this same process of imperial deification in Athens, a place well known for their introduction of new gods at the Areopagus. For example, they officially acknowledged the divinity of Claudius’s grandmother Livia Drusilla (EJ no. 128). 41 E.g. Lightfoot 1896:171; Dunn 1993:226; Martyn 1997:410 (cf. Garland 2003:371). 42 Winter 1994:132; Winter 2001:269–86. 43 Winter 1994:132.

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vention (qe/sij).44 In Chapter 2, in fact, we observed this practice in Pisidian Antioch, where a priestess was established in the light of the deification of Claudius’s grandmother.45 This reading, therefore, adds additional weight to the view that 4.10 could refer to the imperial cultic calendar.

B. Gal 4.8–10 and the Galatian Letter If this interpretation of 4.10 is accepted, however, two immediate questions come to the surface. First, how does this interpretation relate to the preceding argument of 4.1–7, when traditionally it has been understood that Paul was somehow making the Mosaic Law (via the Jewish calendar) synonymous with paganism (4.8–10)?46 Secondly, how might this reading be harmonised with the information we can gather from the rest of the letter, which suggests that at least some of the Galatian Christians were beginning to defect over to a judaising line (1.6–7; 3.1–5; 4.21–5.6)? Both Martin and Witulski have attempted to circumvent these obstacles by plotting two very different tacks. As stated above, Martin argues that due to their aversion of circumcision, the Galatians had rejected the circumcision gospel and had instead returned to paganism.47 On his reading, Paul’s theological arguments were therefore not written to turn the Galatians away from any judaising tendencies, but instead ‘to invalidate the circumcision gospel’ and therefore to win the Christians from paganism back to Christianity.48 To be sure, Martin does well to avoid the common mirror-reading trap of assuming that lying beneath every argument of Paul was an actual effort by the Ga-

––––––––––––––––– 44

For the view that this phrase refers to the emperor and his family, see also Witulski 2000:150–2. Independently, Witherington 1998:298 argues that Gal 4.8 may reflect the imperial cult, but unfortunately he does not offer any supporting evidence to substantiate this claim. 45 See p. 39 above. 46 Stanton 2004:41–3, here 42. In his recent discussion of this alternative interpretation of 4.10, Stanton does not discuss these problematic implications, but instead goes on to discuss another related (albeit subsidiary) question: ‘How are social pressures to conform to the imperial cult linked to the particular concerns of the agitators in the Galatian churches over circumcision and observance of the law?’ This is indeed an important question, as we discussed in Chapter 4 above. Stanton, however, neglects to address the question we have just posed, which is crucial for evaluating the plausibility of an imperial cultic understanding of Gal 4.10. 47 Here Martin should be applauded for his sensitivity to the ancient world, where, unlike twenty-first-century North American culture, circumcision was scorned by non-Jews (see e.g. Petronius Sat. 68.8 [in Stern no. 193]; Mart. Ep. 7.82; Williams no. 56; Feldman 1993:156). 48 Martin 1996:116.

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latians to flout that argument.49 Nevertheless, he is incorrect to state that having rejected the agitators (and also Paul), the Galatians had abandoned Christianity altogether, especially in the light of Paul’s rhetorical strategy throughout the letter.50 Had the Galatians abandoned their faith in Christ, Paul’s appeal to their reception of the Holy Spirit (e.g. 3.1–5; 4.6–7) would surely have fallen on deaf ears.51 What makes Martin’s attempt to harmonise his reading of 4.10 with the rest of the letter even more unsuccessful, however, is his argument that in Gal 4.21–5.6 Paul does not even address the Galatian Jesus-believers, but rather ‘summons these troublemakers to account for their misrepresentation of the true gospel of Jesus Christ’.52 Against this interpretation it seems clear that at ––––––––––––––––– 49

Barclay 1988:40: ‘Not every denial by Paul need reflect an explicit assertion by the opponents; and not every command need reflect a deliberate effort by the Galatians (or the opponents) to flout that command’. 50 To be sure, Martin anticipates this objection by stating that the letter does not preclude their apostasy, primarily because these churches, as networks of households, would have remained intact after their apostasy: ‘Paul is genuinely perplexed about them (a)pore/w, 4.20), and his concern is adequately explained by a household’s resumption of its domestic cult following apostasy from the gospel’ (Martin 1996:118). Because we do not have any hints as to the precise make-up of the Galatian churches and are therefore unable to test this hypothesis, his defence must rest on other grounds. For a recent scholarly review and analysis of the formation of the Pauline churches, see esp. Ascough 1998. 51 See Cole 2001:278–80, who puts forth five objections (each with varying degrees of success) against Martin’s view. His thorough analysis marks the only comprehensive treatment of Martin’s thesis and is rightly focused on how well his interpretation of Gal 4.10 accounts for the information in the rest of the letter (see also Nanos 2002b:268, who agrees with Martin’s pagan interpretation of the calendar but does not think the Galatians had completely abandoned faith in Christ). 52 Martin 1995:450–7, here 450. He thus takes a step further than those interpreters who have maintained that Paul (at least in the allegory) was thinking of the agitators (e.g Fung 1988:204). Against this hypothesis, a few scholars have noted that elsewhere in Galatians Paul only refers to the agitators in the third person, and thus a change in 4.21–5.6 to the second person is unlikely. This objection, however, is inconclusive because of its circular nature. Indeed, 4.21 and 5.4 have one grammatical similarity with every other reference to outsiders in the letter, namely, Paul refers to them in the third person (1.6–7; cf. 6.13). Because Paul also refers to ‘the ones’ in 4.21 and 5.4, one could argue that in Gal 4.21–5.6 Paul was addressed the agitators. Dunn 1993:245 precludes this understanding, to be sure, by taking Gal 4.21 at face value; the ‘missionaries’ could not have been addressed because the implication of 4.21 is that they desired a relationship under the Law they had not previously enjoyed. Because there are good reasons for taking 4.21 as an ironical statement (see esp. Wilson 2005:378–80), arguments against Martin’s reading must be argued on other grounds. Martin, to be sure, contradicts this view in a second article on the Galatian situation (presumably, however, actually written prior to the first article), which argues instead that Paul’s argument from 5.2–6 was hypothetical and meant to invalidate ‘the circumcision gospel without necessarily confirming the eagerness of the Galatians to receive circumcision’ (Martin 1996:117). It is therefore apparent that 4.21–5.6 stands as the biggest challenge to a pagan understanding of 4.10.

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least 5.2–6 is addressed specifically to those who are not yet circumcised, which would obviously exclude the agitators. Here Martin’s argument that the reference to being circumcised in 5.2 refers to the ‘practice’ rather than the ‘act’ of being circumcised is unconvincing.53 On the contrary, the entire argument of 5.2–6 assumes that the addressees of this section had not been circumcised. Paul states in 5.3 his general principle that anyone who is circumcised ‘is obligated to keep the whole law’ (o)feile/thj e0sti\n o#lon to_n no&mon poih~sai), thus warning the Galatians that circumcision involved a lifestyle and not merely a surgical operation. Gal 4.21–5.6 seems to suggest undeniable proof both that the Galatian Jesus-believers had understood the demands of the agitators and that at least some of them had begun to contemplate it as a viable addition to Paul’s gospel. In sum, Martin’s solution for harmonising a pagan understanding of 4.10 with the rest of the letter is unsuccessful. Witulski, on the other hand, offers a way out of this dilemma by a very different means. Building upon the radical form-critical methods of J. C. O’Neill,54 he argues that 4.8–20 was a separate letter altogether, which was later redacted into the rest of the Galatian letter (Gal ‘A’).55 He observes that whereas Gal 4.8–20 attempts to persuade the Galatians from returning to paganism, the rest of the letter seems to have been written on another occasion to prevent the Galatians from going over to Judaism. After lifting 4.8–20 from the rest of the letter, Witulski argues that Paul’s argument – especially the theme of slavery and freedom – flows seamlessly from 3.23–4.7 to 4.21ff.56 Witulski thus concludes that originally Gal ‘A’ had been written to prevent the churches from taking a judaising line and that Gal 4.8–20 was penned subsequently, after the imperial cult had arrived in Galatia and these Gentile Jesus-believers had begun observing the cult. Anticipating one of the most obvious objections to his thesis – the occurrence of stoixei=on in 4.3 and 4.957 – Witulski follows yet another O’Neillian route; the phrase u9po\ ta_ stoixei=a tou= ko/smou was later redacted back into 4.3 in order to harmonise Gal 4.8–20 with Gal ‘A’.58 In support of this bold assertion he notes that elsewhere in Paul’s letters the active subject of slavery is used in conjunction with the dative case (i.e. slaves ‘to’ something or ––––––––––––––––– 53

Martin’s three-fold division of circumcision into an act, state, or practice, draws categories that were not existence in the ancient world. To be circumcised (in the act) was to be in a state of circumcision, and it presumed the practice of circumcision (i.e. to live like a Jew by observing Torah). 54 O’Neill 1972:esp. 56–60. 55 Witulski 2000:67–81. 56 Witulski 2000:73–4. 57 Of course, one might also note that we possess no textual evidence that calls into question the integrity of the letter, despite the endeavour of O’Neill 1972 to ‘recover’ Paul’s letter by means of form-criticism. 58 Witulski 2000:75–7.

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someone). Because in Gal 4.3 doulo/w is employed with the accusative case (u9po\ ta_ stoixei=a), the latter must have been redacted in order to connect these two letters together with minimal discontinuity: ‘Der Redaktor fügte diese Worte in den vorliegenden Zusammenhang ein, um Gal 4,1–7 und das diesem Abschnitt Vorangehende mit der von ihm ebenfalls ergänzten Passage Gal 4,8–20 sowohl formal als auch inhaltlich zu verklammern’.59 This explanation, however, rests upon a rather flimsy foundation. First, the object of the verbs doulo/w and douleu/w by default took the dative case.60 The aberration in 4.3, then, says nothing about a departure from a uniquely Pauline usage. In Gal 4.3 Paul could just as easily have broken away from standard Greek usage as could have a later redactor.61 Indeed, if we were to scour Paul’s letters for irregular Greek usage, how much more could hastily be snatched from Paul’s hand! Secondly, we must consider that Paul had been employing the preposition u9po/ to good rhetorical/theological effect throughout his argument.62 In this regard, we should remember that u9po/, which after all governs the case of the noun, constrained stoixei=on to the accusative case. Paul clearly employed stoixei=on in Gal 4.3 and 4.9, and thus Witulski’s primary defence for his interpolation theory falls away. There are at least two further objections that rule out Witulski’s interpolation theory. First, his justification for dating Gal 4.8–20 subsequently to Gal ‘A’ rests on his argument that the public celebration of the emperor cult began

––––––––––––––––– 59

Witulski 2000:75–7, here 76. Regarding the specific placement of Gal 4.8–20 between Gal 4.7 and 4.21, Witulski 2000:74–5 entertains the possibility that the later redactor may have thought that an argument based on the correct knowledge of God (4.8–10) might better fit thematically following 4.1–7 than following either the paraenesis at 6.10 or the autobiographical subscript at 6.18. 60 See LSJ. 61 In the letters attributed to Paul, the term doulo/w occurs six times (Rom 6.18, 22; 1 Cor 7.15; 9.19; Gal 4.3; Titus 2.3) while the term douleu/w is used seventeen times (Rom 6.6; 7.6, 25; 9.12; 12.11; 14.18; 16.18; Gal 4.8–9, 25; 5.13; Eph 6.7; Phil 2.22; Col 3.24; 1 Thess 1.9; 1 Tim 6.2; Titus 3.3). The semantic nuance between doulo/w and douleu/w is that the former usually denotes being enslaved in a passive sense while the latter in an active sense. This fact would explain why Paul uses doulo/w in Gal 4.3 while in 4.8–9, he employs douleu/w to denote the Galatians’ active role in their slavery to paganism. 62 In Gal 3–4, this preposition is used several times to refer to the enslaved state of Jews before the advent of the Messiah: ‘under a curse’ (u(po_ kata&ran) in 3.10; ‘under sin’ (u(po_ a(marti/an) in 3.22; ‘under (the curse of) the law’ (u9po\ no/mon) in 3.23 (cf. 4.4–5; 4.21; 5.18); ‘under a pedagogue’ (u(po_ paidagwgo&n) in 3.25; and ‘under taskmasters and stewards’ (u(po_ e0pitro&pouj kai\ oi0kono&mouj) in 4.2. For opposing viewpoints on the relationship and Paul’s view of the Mosaic Law and the human plight with special reference to these phrases, particularly u9po\ no/mon, see Belleville 1986, Scott 1993, and Martyn 2003. For a development and slight modification of Scott’s view, see Hafemann 1997 (see now Wilson 2005).

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in Pisidian Antioch in the year A.D. 50.63 This conclusion is secured primarily through the honorary inscription we discussed in Chapter 3, which was dedicated to L. Calpurnius Longus for his financing of a wooden amphitheatre and for hosting a two-month munus (festival) – complete with venationes (wildbeast shows) and gladiatorial combats. As we have seen, however, although this inscription probably dates to sometime in the middle of the first century, Witulski’s argument that it belongs to the year A.D. 50 is far from certain.64 Even supposing that the inscription dates precisely to the year A.D. 50, however, this fact alone does not provide evidence for the beginning of the imperial cult in Galatia, but only for the cult’s ongoing significance in the time of Paul. It is generally recognised that the massive imperial cult temple in Pisidian Antioch is Augustan (or perhaps Tiberian). This date is further confirmed by the dedication on the architrave of the triple-arched propylon that was discussed earlier in Chapter 3.65 The most recent reading of this inscription confirms that it belongs not to the year A.D. 50 as previously thought, but to the year 2 B.C. In the light of this evidence, G. N. Stanton has rightly concluded that ‘there is cumulative evidence for the prominence of the imperial cult in Antioch well before Paul’s day’.66 Although Witulski does well to point to the proliferation of the cult in Pisidian Antioch during the reign of Claudius, Witulski’s view that it had no public presence before A.D. 50 is inaccurate. His interpolation theory is therefore without secure footing. Secondly, it is possible that elsewhere in the letter (Gal ‘A’) Paul was responding to imperial cult and ideology. Stanton, for example, notes that both the gospel (eu0agge/lion) word group – particularly prominent in Galatians – and Paul’s son of God Christology (e.g. 1.16; 2.20; 4.4–6) ‘may have been heard by Christians as a counter-story to the story conveyed by the allpervasive imperial cult’.67 In this regard, we should note that Paul’s argument against circumcision does not necessarily preclude a subsidiary argument against their observing the imperial cult, especially if both were being considered/practised for pragmatic reasons, a possibility that we will consider below. Neither Witulski nor Martin successfully explains how this reading of Gal 4.10 can be harmonised with the rest of the letter. If 4.21–5.6 was addressed to the Galatian Christians, and if the argument of 4.8–20 is integral to the rest ––––––––––––––––– 63

Interestingly, the ultimate aim of his thesis is to prove not that observance of the imperial cult was a major issue in the Galatian churches, but that the imperial cult background of 4.8–20 affirms the so-called South Galatian theory. 64 See p. 78f. above. 65 See p. 72ff. above. 66 Stanton 2004:39. 67 Stanton 2004:39.

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of the letter, can we reconcile such passages with a pagan interpretation of 4.10? The most obvious place to begin is the immediate context (4.1–11). 1. Gal 4.8–10 within the Argument of Gal 4.1–11 Interpreters have commonly observed a close correlation between the Galatians’ former paganism (4.8–10) and the Law (4.1–7).68 Although scholars continue to debate the precise relationship between Judaism and paganism, the main point seems clear – Paul argued that turning to Judaism was ironically no different from returning to paganism. In this regard, many scholars have thought Paul believed both the Mosaic Law and paganism to be elementary principles (stoixei=a) of the world (4.3,9).69 N. Calvert-Koyzis goes further, supposing that ‘Paul equates the law with idolatry (4.3, 8–10), since it also was a form of enslavement to the stoixei=a tou= ko/smou…. Now that the Christians in Galatians are also children of Abraham by virtue of being ‘in Christ’, the idolatry which they are to avoid is obedience to the law’.70 These explanations, of course, assume that 4.10 describes Jewish observances. How might this passage be understood, however, if 4.10 refers to the imperial cultic calendar? Although we will not be able to unpack the theological density expressed in these verses (which I would argue is the theological climax of the letter), in order to answer this question we must at least consider two exegetical issues. We must first determine the most plausible meaning for the enigmatic term ––––––––––––––––– 68

Lightfoot 1896:173 provides an elaborate description of Paul’s view of Judaism in relation to pagan religion by dividing all religions into two aspects, the spiritual and the ritualistic. Paul’s parallel was not about the spiritual aspect of these two religions, since the spiritual aspect of Judaism has been ‘absorbed in the Gospel’ and the spiritual aspect of paganism was ‘absolutely bad’. Paul was bringing together under one elementary denominator (stoixei=on) the ritualistic aspects of Judaism and paganism. Striped of its spiritual element through its absorption in the Gospel, Judaism only had left the ritualistic, and ‘Deprived of this, it was mere mass of lifeless ordinances, differing only in degree, not in kind, from any other ritualistic system’. In response to these sorts of attempts to explain Paul’s view of Judaism and paganism, Witulski 2000:61–2 is closer to the mark: ‘Daß Paulus hier tatsächlich eine Parallelisierung dieser beiden unterschiedlichen, im Grunde entgegengesetzen Religionsformen beabsichtigt hat, liegt nicht offen zutage, sondern muß vielmehr von den Kommentatoren des Gal mühsam erschlossen werden’. For the various views on the relationship between Gal 4.1– 7 and 8–10, see esp. Witulski 2000:59–81. 69 See, e.g., Witherington 1998:286–7, who forcefully summaries this view: ‘Jews were under one form of these elementary teachings while Gentiles were under another, but both shared a common condition of being enslaved and under subjection because of these teachings’. 70 Calvert 1993:236 (see also Fung 1988:188, 193; Dunn 1993:225; Matera 1992:152). Other interpreters (e.g. Matera 1992:157; Bacchiocchi 1977:366; cf. Martyn 1997:411–12) believe that Paul considered the customary observance of special days not to be inherently inappropriate (cf. 1 Cor 16.8; Rom 14.5–6), but only to be wrong-headed when done in order to complete and perfect one’s faith (usually citing Gal 3.3).

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stoixei=a used in 4.3 and 4.9. Furthermore, in order to understand the relationship between being u9po\ ta_ stoixei=a (4.3) and being u9po\ no/mon (4.4), we must determine the background and significance of the analogy in 4.1–2. After this exegetical discussion, we will be able to evaluate how well this new line of interpretation fits within the broader context of 4.1–11. First, how are we to understand the term stoixei=on in 4.3 and 4.9? On this exegetical chestnut there have been no fewer than eight opinions,71 three of which have persisted in recent discussion: (1) the natural elements of the world (i.e. earth, water, fire, and air),72 (2) the elementary religious principles of the world,73 and (3) the demonic/elemental spirits.74 The first option certainly contains the most linguistic support. G. Delling, who argues for the second interpretation, nevertheless concedes that ‘a man of NT days would take stoixei=a to refer to the “basic material” of which everything in the cosmos, including man, is composed’.75 Several exegetes have rightly pointed out, however, that this meaning does not seem to fit well within the context.76 The second option is that stoixei=a represents the religious principles of the world, whether pagan or Jewish. Against this view, however, Martyn has pointed out that Paul does not indicate that they were attempting to advance to more mature religious principles.77 In addition, it will become clear from the context that Paul was not discussing religious systems at all, but was referring to a state in which Jews and Gentiles found themselves before the advent of Jesus Christ. A growing number of exegetes believes that Paul here had in mind the demonic spirits. On the use of stoixei=a in Gal 4.9, Adams states: ‘The most obvious inference to be drawn is that Paul is referring to the deities whom his ––––––––––––––––– 71

The secondary literature on this topic is overwhelming. For an overview of the various options, see, e.g., Adams 2000:228–30; Arnold 1996; Hong 1993:162–5. 72 E.g. Hafemann 1997:346–8; Thielman 1989:80–3; Blinzler 1963. 73 E.g. Moore-Crispin 1989:esp. 209–12; Belleville 1986:67–9; Ridderbos 1956:154; Burton 1921:510–18; Lightfoot 1896:167. 74 E.g. Byron 2003:190; Wisdom 2001:210; Adams 2000:228–30; Arnold 1996:55–76; Stuckenbruck 1995:107–08; Dunn 1993:226; Hong 1993:165; Cosgrove 1988:75–7; Barrett 1985:39; Bruce 1982:204; Cousar 1982:92–3; Betz 1979:204–5; Oepke 1984:132; Sanders 1977:554–5; Reicke 1951:261. The five other views are as follows: (1) the astral powers (Mußner 1974:293–304); (2) the angels mentioned in Gal 3.19 (Reicke 1951:261; Schmithals 1972:45 n. 91); (3) all things people serve as gods, including the Mosaic Law (Fung 1988:191); (4) the demonic forces of legalism (Bruce 1982:203); and (5) the elements of religious distinction (Martyn 1995:31). 75 Delling 1964–76:7.684 (quoted by Thielman 1989:80–1). 76 E.g. Adams 2000:229 (cf. Hong 1993:164). Hafemann 1997:346–48 attempts to argue for option one by stating that both Jews and Gentiles were under the fallen created order through sin. 77 Martyn 1995:19.

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Gentile readers used to worship: the gods of pagan religion’.78 Although affirming this point, I would go further to say that in the light of our interpretation of 4.8, Paul uses the term not simply to represent the demonic world of paganism, but also to express his view that the gods (which by their nature are not gods) find their existence in the natural world (thus taking both options one and three above). This understanding might explain why Paul would employ the term here. On this reading, Paul wonders in 4.9–10 how the Galatians could return to their former slavery under the stoixei=a, i.e. the worship of the gods and lords on the earth. To be sure, scholars regularly point out two objections to this interpretation of stoixei=a. The primary criticism is that we have no explicit evidence for a demonic/spiritual understanding of stoixei=a before the pseudepigraphal Testament of Solomon (8.1–2; 18.1–2), dated to the fourth century A.D. Some exegetes have responded by positing that what we find in Galatians is a uniquely Pauline usage.79 C. Arnold, however, has responded to this objection more persuasively by showing that although there is sparse evidence for this word before the fourth century, there are certainly traditions circulating from the first century that point in this direction.80 Arnold therefore suggests that the demonic/spiritual meaning would have been at least familiar in the first century. The second objection involves Paul’s attitude to the Law. Some scholars are understandably hesitant to believe that Paul, even after his call/conversion, considered the Law to be one of the demonic forces operating in the world. D. R. Moore-Crispin decides against the demonic reading of 4.3, 9 for this very reason: ‘Paul could not conceivably have included the Law among them [the demonic spirits]. While he speaks of the Law in certain negative ways in chapter 3, he never thinks of it as evil. It is in no way opposed to the promises of God (Gal. 3:21); it is “holy, righteous and good” (Rom. 7:12)’.81 On the other hand, L. Stuckenbruck advocates the demonic reading in 4.9, but desperately attempts to climb out of this dilemma by concluding that in 4.3 the term was taken up quite differently.82 Adams also admits the difficulty in equating stoixei=a in these two verses, but nevertheless concludes: ‘What is ––––––––––––––––– 78

Adams 2000:230. Witherington 1998:286 argues that 4.3 should not be read in the light of 4.9 because 4.3 is the previous and fuller occurrence of the term. Because the less enigmatic text is the clearly latter one, however, we should interpret the 4.3 in the light of 4.9, despite their order of appearance. 79 So Delling 1964–76:7.685 (cf. Adams 2000:230). 80 Arnold 1996:57–63. 81 Moore-Crispin 1989:esp. 209–12, here 212. Bruce 1982:194 also poses the question: ‘In what sense could it be said that the Galatian Christians in their pagan days were under the same stoixei=a as had controlled Paul and his fellow-Jews?’ In the end, Bruce nevertheless concludes for the spiritual/demonic meaning (204). 82 Stuckenbruck 1995:110–11.

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striking is that Paul envisages such forces operating in and through Jewish religion as well’. Although Adams understands correctly the meaning of stoixei=a in 4.3 and 4.9, we will see that he (along with these other interpreters) does not discern correctly its relationship with u9po\ no/mon (4.4–5). If the demonic interpretation of stoixei=a is correct, how might we reconcile it with Paul’s discussion of the Jewish plight in 4.3–4?83 In order to answer this question, we must seek to understand the background and function of the analogy in 4.1–2. Interpreters have consistently argued either for a Roman or Hellenistic legal background to the inheritance analogy in 4.1–2,84 but without serious consideration of a Jewish background. On this point, at least, B. Witherington is certainly correct: ‘Neither legal guardianship nor adoption were normal social practices of early Jews, nor is provision really made for them in Mosaic Law’.85 Most of these interpreters, to be sure, readily concede that Paul’s analogy, whether finding its source in Roman or Hellenistic law, runs aground on many points. It is not entirely clear, for example, who precisely the ‘taskmasters’ (e0pitro/pouj) and ‘stewards’ (oi0kono/mouj) represented, or if they represented two functions of the same person.86 Furthermore, interpreters have been at a loss to explain why Paul’s analogy based upon inheritance laws suddenly gives way to the legal procedure of adoption (4.5). What is more, in the application of the analogy, the father (God) is still alive (4.4) when in Roman and Hellenistic law a father must be deceased (!) for his son to come into his inheritance.87 ––––––––––––––––– 83

It has been commonly recognised that Paul sketches the Gentile plight in 4.8–10, but what has often been overlooked is that in 4.1–5 Paul sketches Israel’s salvation history as well. Scott 1992:155–57 (cf. Bruce 1982:181–2) argues that the analogy applies typologically for both Jews and Gentiles, but his exegesis overlooks several important points that seem to favour a deliberate distinction between the Jewish and Gentile plights (see Stuckenbruck 1995:109–10; Hafemann 1997:341–2). First, the phrase ‘under law’ most naturally refers to Jews. Secondly, a similar distinction between Jewish and Gentile Jesus-believers is made at 2.15–17; 3.10–14; and 3.23–9 (on this point, see Hafemann 1997:341–2; Wright 1991:137– 56). Thirdly, if this passage is best understood in the framework of Heilsgeschichte (Scott 1992:341), then moving from Jewish redemption (4.1–5) to Gentile inclusion (4.6–7) would be quite natural (cf. Rom 1.16–17). 84 For Roman law, see, e.g., Burton 1921:212–15; Bruce 1982:192; Dunn 1993:211. For Hellenistic law, see, e.g., Moore-Crispin 1989:205–9; Witherington 1998:282–3. Ramsay 1900:391–3 argued for a Phrygian (or Syrian) background – an admixture of Roman and Hellenistic law – but his primary motivation was to marshall more evidence in favour of the socalled South Galatian theory (his theory derives from sources not earlier than the fifth century A.D.). 85 Witherington 1998:282 (following Moore-Crispin 1989:204). 86 So Burton 1921:214; Longenecker 1990:164. 87 Moore-Crispin 1989:205 assumes that the father is already dead, but surely this contradicts the application of the analogy where the father (God) is obviously alive (4.4): ‘Paul

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Such problems were the impetus for J. C. O’Neill’s excision of the seemingly incompatible statements in 4.1–10.88 Most interpreters, however, have concluded that the legal discrepancies become apparent only when actually attempting to apply the analogy to verses three through five.89 On this view, we should therefore abandon any hope of applying the analogy in 4.1–2 in any ‘strict sense’90 to the argument of 4.3–7. J. M. Scott, however, has proposed a far more satisfactory solution to the background and significance of the analogy in 4.1–2 in his extensive monograph on the Jewish background of adoption (ui9oqesi/a) in Paul’s letters. Scott argues that the analogy in 4.1–2 and its application in 4.3–7 point to the Exodus tradition.91 On this reading, the ‘child’ (nh/pioj) of 4.1 is not a technical term for a minor, but a reference to collective Israel at the time of the Exodus (e.g. Hos 11.1). In addition, Scott argues that the collocation of the ‘taskmasters’ (e0pitro/pouj) and ‘stewards’ (oi0kono/mouj) referred to Israel’s overlords in Egypt.92 In 4.3, then, Paul applies this analogy to the plight of Jewish Christians when they were ‘under the (curse of the) Law’ (u9po\ no/mon).93 Taking this ––––––––––––––––– would hardly speak of the death of the testator before believers receive full sonship’ (Longenecker 1990:163). 88 O’Neill 1972:56–60. 89 E.g. Vouga 1998:99: ‘Wahrscheinlicher ist aber, daß juristische Unstimmmigkeiten durch die Sachhälfte, d.h. durch die Spannung zwischen der Kontinuität der Verheißung und der durch das Christusereignis eingeführten, eschatologischen Diskontinuität bedingt sind’. Similarly, Longenecker 1990:164 (following Betz 1979:204), concludes rather agnostically that ‘Paul, being more interested in application than precise legal details, made the specifics of his illustration conform to his purpose’ (cf. Burton 1921:214; Hester 1967). Betz 1979:204 argues that these problems do not obscure Paul’s primary point in making the analogy – the heir is freed from supervision at the appointed time. 90 Bruce 1982:192’s phrase. 91 Although some recent commentators (e.g. Martyn 1997; Williams 1997; Witherington 1998) do not seem to be aware of Scott’s argument, a growing number of scholars are incorporating his reading (e.g. Byron 2003:184–90; Keesmaat 1999:158–67; Hafemann 1997:esp. 334 n. 12; Arnold 1996:64–5). 92 Scott 1992:126–45 makes a total of six ‘exegetical oversights’ in support of the Exodus typology: (1) the references to e0pitro/poj used in Jewish papyri referring to the guardian of an orphan; (2) o9 klhrono/moj referring to ‘the seed of Abraham’; (3) nh/pioj as neither a general nor a technical term; (4) ku/rioj pa&ntwn as a reference to universal sovereign inheritance promised to Abraham and his descendants; (5) e0pi/tropoj kai\ oi0kono/moj as official titles referring to state administrators in Egypt; and (6) proqesmi/a referring not to a date set by a father for the termination of guardianship but to a set date or predetermined time limit. Although these points are not entirely persuasive when taken individually, their cumulative weight carries with it a very strong case. 93 On the phrase u9po\ no/mon being a Pauline abbreviation of the phrase e0k th~j kata&raj tou~ no&mou (3.13), where Paul refers to the curse that accompanies those who do not do all the law (3.10–14, drawing on Deut 27–9 ), see now Wilson 2005. Thielman 1989:78 anticipates this view when discussing 4.5 in relation to 3.10–13: ‘To be under law, therefore, is not only

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background as a starting point, we may go even further in order to understand how being ‘under the stoicheia’ (u9po\ ta_ stoixei=a) might relate to being ‘under the (curse of the) law’ (u9po\ no/mon). In the curses of Deuteronomy 27–9, a section of Torah from which Paul had already drawn a very similar argument (Gal 3.10–14), we read that the climax of the curse was exile, where Israel would be slaves to pagan gods: If you are not careful to observe all the words of this law which are written in this book, to fear this honoured and awesome name, the LORD your God, then …. the LORD will scatter you among all peoples, from one end of the earth to the other end of the earth; and there you shall serve (douleu/w) other gods, wood and stone, which you or your fathers have not known. Among those nations you shall find no rest, and there will be no resting place for the sole of your foot; but there the LORD will give you a trembling heart, failing of eyes, and despair of soul…. The LORD will bring you back to Egypt in ships, by the way about which I spoke to you, ‘You will never see it again!’ And there you will offer yourselves for sale to 94 your enemies as male and female slaves (paidi/skaj), but there will be no buyer.

In this light, Paul was not at all equating paganism (4.9) with the Jewish law (4.3). Rather, he was pointing to the climax of the curse – exile and subjugation to foreign powers and their gods. Before the sending forth of Christ’s son (4.4), Israel was enslaved under the stoixei=a (the pagan gods of this world) as a result of their corporate covenant failure. Of course, Gentiles were slaves under the same stoixei=a through their active worship of pagan gods, but here Paul makes no inherent link between the Mosaic Law and paganism. With these two exegetical decisions in place – the meaning of stoixei=a and its relationship with being u9po\ no/mon – we are now in a better place to understand the immediate argument of 4.1–7. After summarising in 3.26–28 how both Jew and Gentile are children of Abraham in Christ, Paul sketches the human plight before the sending of God’s Son. Although Israel was God’s child (nh/pioj), they were no better off than slaves so long as they remained in their minority in Egypt (4.1–2). In fact, although there were periods of return throughout Israel’s history, their hopes of restoration largely remained unfulfilled (4.3).95 In the fullness of time, however, God sent forth his Son, in order to redeem those who were ‘under the (curse of the) law’,96 that he might adopt them as His children (4.4–5). ––––––––––––––––– to be under sin, but to be under the curse which the law pronounces on sin’; cf. Hafemann 1997:342: ‘the conceptual link between Israel’s being “under the Law” (3:23; 4:5) as a consequence of all things being “under sin” (3:22) is therefore best explained when the former is seen to be a short-hand reference back to Paul’s explication in 3:10–13’. 94 Deut 28:58–68, here 58, 64–5, 68 (emphasis added). 95 For the exile motif in Galatians, see esp. Keesmaat 1999; Hafemann 1997; Scott 1993; Wright 1991:137–56. For recent critiques, see, e.g., Longenecker 1998:137–42. 96 For rendering u9po\ no/mon as a theological abbreviation for u9po\ th\n kata&ran tou= no/mon, see n. 93 above.

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If Paul sketches Israel’s salvation history in these verses, the reason becomes clear in 4.6–7 when Gentile inclusion comes expressly into view. Because Paul’s readers, formerly slaves under pagan gods (4.7–9), had become children of Abraham in Christ (3.26–28), they also received the Spirit of God’s son (4.6).97 If this was the reality of God’s salvific plan, the stark adversative a)lla& in 4.8 becomes even more potent. Paul wonders how his converts could return to their former slavery by observing the cultic calendar of the imperial cult. An added upshot of this interpretation comes when we also consider Paul’s designation of Christ as the ‘Son of God’ (4.4), which would have effected a powerful blow, especially given the imposing inscription on the massive gateway in Pisidian Antioch dedicated to Augustus as ‘son of a god’. Seen in this light, Paul’s remarks about being naturally not gods (toi=j fu&sei mh_ ou}sin qeoi=j) in 4.8 would have served as the second jab in a combination of punches to show that their observance of the imperial festival calendar marked a return to slavery. If this new line of interpretation is maintained, then Paul’s sketch of salvation history in 4.1–7 served as a theological alarm clock meant to wake the Galatian Jesus-believers up from their observance of the emperor cult. Given that they had been included in God’s saving plan and had received the Holy Spirit, Paul wondered how they could justify turning back to those weak and pitiful stoixei=a. Paul had good reason to fear that his toil had been in vain (4.11). 2. Gal 4.8–10 and Its Wider Context in Galatians Although this new line of interpretation fits well within Paul’s argument in 4.1–11 and allows for a fresh reading of this passage, how might this reading account for the information we can gather from the rest of the letter? Before we can take this interpretation of 4.10 on board, we must comment briefly on three passages that seem to suggest that the Galatians had all gone over to a judaising line: (1) the opening rebuke in 1.6–7, which reveals that they had ––––––––––––––––– 97 On this latter verse, the NA27 reads, 3Oti de/ e0ste ui9oi/, e0cape/steilen o( qeo_j to_ pneu~ma tou~ ui9ou~ au)tou~ ei0j ta_j kardi/aj h(mw~n. Although the Majority Text reads u9mw~n for h(mw~n, the latter is preferred as the more difficult reading, as scribes were more likely to change the pronoun from third to second person in order to agree with both the previous and the following clauses. Assuming the first-person pronoun is the correct reading, it seems that Paul carried a theological particularity in the salvation of Jews and Gentiles in 4.1–7, Gentile inclusion (4.6–7) being the auxiliary of a specific process of God’s work in the redemption of Israel (4.1–5; cf. Rom 9–11). Earlier in his argument (3.13–14) Paul makes a similar point, namely, that Christ redeemed ‘us’ (Jesus-believing Jews) from the curse of the Law for two interrelated purposes/results, ‘in order that the blessing of Abraham might come on the Gentiles’ and ‘in order that we (Jesus-believing Jews) might receive through faith the promise of the Spirit’ (3.14) (see Wright 1991:153–5; Donaldson 1986).

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turned from God to another Gospel, (2) Paul’s second rebuke in 3.1–5, specifically their attempt to be perfected by the ‘flesh’ (sa&rc), and (3) Paul’s warning in 5.2–6, that his readers must not be circumcised. We first turn to the beginning of Paul’s letter, where the apostle confronts the Galatians for turning from God to another gospel. Although the term ‘gospel’ (eu0agge/lion) could be employed in a variety of contexts in the GraecoRoman world, we have noted in Chapter 2 that this term was often used in contexts dealing with imperial good news (e.g. the birthdates, victories, and health of the emperors).98 Indeed, Stanton has made a strong case that the gospel word group in Galatians, more prominent in this letter than in any other Pauline epistle, would have been heard as rivalling the ‘gospels’ of the emperors.99 Of course, many scholars in the past have understood this passage as a rebuke for their imminent apostasy to Judaism by way of circumcision. If our reading of Gal 4.10 is correct, however, this opening rebuke carries even greater socio-political overtures, being meant to reshape their Weltanschauung in conformity to the truth of the Gospel – there is only one Gospel, Jesus Christ is Lord. Their desertion from God to another Gospel, then, referred to their observance of the imperial cultic calendar. Of course, it could also refer more generally to their current thinking on a whole host of issues that would compromise their faith in Jesus as Lord, including their consideration of circumcision. In other words, the issue was not their turning to ‘another Gospel’ – Paul even denies there existed another ‘good news’ – but that the agitators were causing them to desert God.100 In this regard, we also observe that Paul states in the opening of the letter that Christ had delivered them from the ‘present evil age’. Regarding this phrase, we should also note that the Galatians would surely have heard it as a direct contradiction to the message of peace and safety associated with the emperors. Paul, however, does not hesitate to call this world the ‘present evil age’ (1.4). We only need to be reminded of the imagery evoked by the Roman poets Virgil and Horace in order to appreciate the reverberations from Paul’s use of this phrase. Now, I am not suggesting that this terminology was unique to Paul, as it was common during the Second Temple Period to drawn an antinomy between the present age and the age to come (cf. also Rom 12.2; 1 Cor 1.2; 2.6,8; 3.18; 2 Cor 4.4).101 But we must bear in mind how this phrase, coupled with Paul’s declaration that in Christ there is a ‘new creation’ (Gal 6.15; 2 Cor 5.17), would have been heard by the Galatian readers. In contrast to the impe––––––––––––––––– 98

See p. 33 above. Stanton 2004:39 (cf. Wright 1994). 100 See similarly Williams 1997:39 101 See further Martyn 1985a. 99

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rial message, which the Galatians would have constantly seen and heard in the ‘present age’ of the emperors, Paul reminded his readers that the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus had inaugurated a ‘new age’, thus rendering the present one as evil, diametrically opposed to the claim that Jesus is Lord. If Paul’s first rebuke pertains to their turning from God, Paul’s second rebuke in 3.1–5 accuses the Galatians from attempting to be perfected by the ‘flesh’. Some scholars have assumed that the interpretation of ‘flesh’ in 3.3 is merely a play on words with ‘circumcision’.102 At the very least, most scholars assume that Paul’s readers were attempting to move forward in their faith by taking on the Torah. Perhaps we have in these verses a reference to circumcision, anticipating Paul’s discussion in 5.2–12. We must bear in mind, however, that we find the same flesh/Spirit dichotomy again in Gal 5.13 and 16, where it refers not to circumcision/works of the Law, but to activities that are specifically pagan (5.19–21). Paul’s language in 3.3 is therefore ambiguous enough to cover either a turn to circumcision or a return to their former pagan practices. Finally, we must comment on the allegory and Paul’s subsequent warning not to be circumcised in Gal 4.21–5.6. We have already argued above that this passage is addressed to Paul’s readers, not the agitators. Does this passage not indicate, then, that the Galatian Christians were all going over to the agitators’ side? Some eight decades ago W. Lütgert, building on his work on incipient Gnosticism, suggested that Paul was actually fighting on two fronts in Galatia. He bases this conclusion largely on Gal 4.21: Tell me, the ones wanting (oi9 qe/lontej) to be under the (curse of the) Law, do you not listen to the Law.

Because of the participle ‘the ones who are wanting’ (oi9 qe/lontej) in this verse, Lütgert concludes that in this section Paul was singling out a specific group within the Galatian churches. As is well known among modern interpreters, Lütgert maintains that there were actually two groups of opponents in Galatia, a nomistic and a Gnostic group. The nomistic opponents and their followers were addressed in the allegory and Paul’s teaching on the Law. The ethical section (5.13–6.10), on the other hand, was written in response to Gnostic teaching.103 Although commentators have rightly rejected Lütgert’s two-front hypothesis, his valid observation in 4.21 was unfortunately thrown out with the bath water.104 Witherington, to be sure, is correct to note on 4.21 that ‘a question ––––––––––––––––– 102

E.g. Witherington 1998:214. Lütgert 1919:esp. 11–12 (cf. the development of this thesis by Ropes 1929). 104 See, e.g., Longenecker 1990:206, whose motivation when discussing 4.21 was only to remove Lütgert’s thesis as a viable option: ‘His address is to all those within the Galatian churches, as in 3:1 (w} a)no/htoi Gala&tai), and not just to a group among them that was prepared to follow a judaizing line, as W. Lütgert proposed’. Longenecker (following Schlier 103

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may be raised as to whether Paul thinks all of his audience is in the position of wishing to submit to the Law, or only a significant portion of it. In either case, Paul thinks the situation serious enough publicly to address everyone about it’.105 What is striking is that many commentators who have refused Lütgert’s two-front hypothesis have simultaneously postulated that there were indeed two opposing alternatives – libertine or nomistic – in the Galatian churches.106 In R. Jewett’s well-known essay on the agitators in Galatia, he argues this very conclusion: It appears that Paul viewed the congregation [sic] as a more or less homogeneous unit capable of being swayed in this direction or that. Without implying the existence of firmly set parties or groups within the congregation [sic], Paul speaks as if they were all wavering between accepting circumcision and rejecting it, between being pneumatics or being fools (iii.1). Directing his argument not against party groups but towards the congregation as a whole, he argues in iii.6–iv.31 against the nomistic threat to the gospel and then in v.13–6.10 against the libertinistic threat. If we take his view of the situation seriously, the entire congregation was as much in danger from the one as from the other.107

It has been rightly questioned whether we can read the entire ethical section as a determined rejoinder to their current (libertinistic) actions, but Jewett is certainly on the right track when he recognises that the churches could go in one of two directions. On this basis, we can suggest a modification of Lütgert’s two-front hypothesis, although in the limited confines of our investigation we will not be able to develop it further. Lütgert was correct to believe that there were indeed two groups within the Galatian churches, although I disagree that there were two groups of agitators or set parties. Instead, Paul was urging the Galatians to stand firm between two alternatives – observing the cult and being circumcised. While in 4.10 Paul addressed the Galatian churches as a whole regarding their observance of the imperial cult, in Gal 4.21–5.6 Paul addresses a subset of the Galatians who were seriously considering circumcision.108 Perhaps another way to approach this problem is to see those three rebuking sections dealing with the Galatians’ present actions (1.6–7; 3.3; 4.8–11) as ––––––––––––––––– 1962:216 and Mußner 1974:317) then objects by arguing that Paul would have used the pronoun u9mei=j to make it more clear if he was referring to a select group in the churches, but this is surely a weak argument since all of the Galatians would have been addressed with the second person and not merely a subset within this group. 105 Witherington 1998:328. 106 Jewett (followed by Longenecker); cf. Betz 1979 (modified by Barclay 1988 and Keesmaat 1999). 107 Jewett 1971:209 (emphasis added). 108 Thus, the difficulty that some might perceive with a pagan understanding of 4.10 – that ‘it does not account for Paul’s view of the observances as submission to the Jewish law (4:21)’ (Fung 1988:193) – is resolved.

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primarily (but not exclusively) addressing their present return to imperial cult observances. On the other hand, Paul’s specific warnings against being circumcised (esp. 4.21–5.6) would be most applicable to those considering this option as a viable alternative.109 Thus, we are distinguishing between what the Galatians were actually doing at the time of the letter and what Paul was warning them not to do in the future. Of course, a solid theological understanding of Gentile inclusion – being children of Abraham apart from the Law – would be relevant to all the Galatian Jesus-believers, as it would give them a proper framework for locating their identity (in Christ).110

C. Gal 4.8–10 and the Social Setting of Galatians If we have discussed how this new line of interpretation might be integrated into its immediate argument (4.1–11) and in its wider context in Galatians, one vital question remains: Why would the Galatian Jesus-believers have turned back to participate in the imperial cult? Barclay has done well to note the social factors facing the Galatian churches: In order to understand the Galatians’ action, we should recall the precariousness of their social position as Christians. As Christian converts they had abandoned the worship of pagan deities (4.8–11) and this conversion would have involved not only massive cognitive readjustments but also social dislocation. To dissociate oneself from the worship of family and community deities would entail a serious disruption in one’s relationship with family, friends, fellow club members, business associates and civic authorities.111

Barclay then concludes that the Galatians were attracted to the agitators’ message of circumcision primarily because of their ‘precarious social identity’.112 Circumcision would not only have ensured their position as the people of God, but more practically (and perhaps more urgently), it would have ‘nor––––––––––––––––– 109 See the question raised in a scholarly review of Witulski 2000 by C. W. Stenschke in NovT 46 (2004) 83–6: ‘Könnte nicht schon Paulus selbst – auch in einem einheitlichen Brief – in Gal 4:8–20 neben den in 1:1–4.7 verhandelten Themen auch auf einen erstarkenden Kaiserkult und dessen geistliche Herausforderung zu sprechen kommen?’. 110 Here we must be careful not to mirror-read wholesale Paul’s theological arguments as direct responses to the agitators’ message (as we observe especially in Brinsmead 1982 and now Martyn 1997). 111 Barclay 1988:58. 112 Barclay 1988:59 (see also Nanos 2002b:267–71). Dunn 1993:229 states that reducing this issue simply to ritualism (Lightfoot 1896:173) or general cultic observances (Betz 1979:217–18) is inadequate: ‘what was at stake in all this was the character of the covenant and the identity of the people of God as the children and heirs of Abraham’. Dunn is surely correct, but in focus here is Barclay’s observation that the pressing issue involved their social dislocation.

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malised’ their place in society as Jews, as we discussed in Chapter 4.113 On this point Barclay is correct. What is more, it seems clear from Gal 4.17–20 that part of the agitators’ modus operandi was to shut the Galatians out (e0kklei=sai)114 until they might imitate (zhlou~te) the agitators by being circumcised. This exclusion would only have exacerbated their displacement in society.115 Of course, we should be ever mindful of the fact that the Galatian Jesusbelievers had not yet submitted to the rite of circumcision, and thus they must have continued to experience social dislocation.116 Perhaps the more convenient option for settling their precarious status would have been simply to reacquaint themselves with the observance of pagan cults, not the least of which would have included observing the festal celebrations of the emperor cult. On this understanding, then, it is quite likely that before going forward with circumcision, the Galatian Christians were attempting to allay their social dislocation by falling back to observe the imperial cult. In his extensive work on emperor worship in Asia Minor, S. R. F. Price has shown that all the inhabitants of the city and not merely the social elite were involved in establishing and running the emperor cult, and that it was the civic obligation both of the poor and elite alike to participate.117 Similarly, in his Rhodian oration, Dio Chrysostom represents the standard view in the GraecoRoman world when he notes the impiety (a)se/beia) of not showing proper zeal to the gods by refusing to offer sacrifices: And as for the gods, you know, I presume, that whether a person makes a libation to them or merely offers incense or approaches them, so long as his spirit is right, he has done his full duty; for perhaps God requires no such thing as images or sacrifices at all. But in any event these acts are not ineffectual, because we thereby show our zeal (proqumi/an) and our disposition (dia&qesin) towards the gods.118

It is difficult for us to resist the probability that the Galatian Christians would have felt serious pressures – from family members, friends and colleagues, and civic authorities – to conform by doing their civic duty in observing the

––––––––––––––––– 113

See esp. pp. 110ff. above. Note the similarity of this inflection with e0kklhsi/a, which (as a play on words?) suggests that rather than meeting together with the Galatians as a group of Jesus-believers, the agitators had barred the door. For a metaphorical reading of Gal 4.17, however, see Smith 1996. 115 So also Barclay 1988:59–60. 116 We can be fairly certain that at least one of the reasons why they had not been circumcised would have been because of the general scorn of circumcision among Gentiles. 117 Price 1984b:107–14. 118 Dio Chrysostom Or. XXXI.15 (for the belief that the gods did not need sacrifices, cf. Dio Chrysostom Or. III.52). 114

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emperor’s cult.119 In his conclusion on the prominence of the cult in Galatia, S. Mitchell explains the difficulties Christians must have experienced: One cannot avoid the impression that the obstacle which stood in the way of the progress of Christianity, and the force which would have drawn new adherents back to conformity with the prevailing paganism, was the public worship of the emperors. The packed calendar of the ruler cult dragooned the citizens of [Pisidian] Antioch into observing days, months, seasons, and years which it laid down for special recognition and celebration. Its sacrifices were the chief sources of meat which the Apostolic Council had forbidden Christians to touch. In the urban setting of Pisidian Antioch where spectacular and enticing public festivals imposed conformity and a rhythm of observance on a compact population, where Christians could not (if they wanted to) conceal their beliefs and activities from their fellows, it was not a change of heart that might win a Christian convert back to paganism, but the overwhelming pressure to conform imposed by the institutions of his city and the activities of his neighbours.120

If the portrait sketched in the above discussion is in any way accurate, we can now understand what would have motivated the Galatian Christians to observe the festal calendar of the emperor’s cult. When this understanding is coupled with the alternative reading of 4.10, we are in a position finally to suggest an answer to the question posed at the beginning of this study: What were the Galatians actually doing at the time of Paul’s letter? On the basis of our investigation above, it seems likely that the Galatian Christians had begun to observe the calendar of the emperor cult in order to alleviate their social dislocation in society. Soon after Paul left Galatia, the Galatian Jesus-believers began to feel the pressure to conform to the society in which they lived, a society in which there was no room for new religious movements that would claim political hegemony over both the local gods and the imperial gods of Rome. It was during this difficulty that the agitators began to compel Paul’s readers to be circumcised. As we saw in Chapter 4, they were concerned to avoid persecution from the civic authorities for being affiliated with this group that had terminated their observance of the imperial cult. Probably utilising both theological and socio-religious tactics, the agitators were ‘disturbing’ (tara&ssontej) the churches and perverting the gospel of Christ. In the light of this situation, Paul penned a letter to the Galatians. Rather than writing a letter of encouragement for their steadfastness through suffering (cf. 1 Thess 1.2–10), however, Paul begins the letter with a stern rebuke (1.6–9) and includes recurring rebuking sections throughout the letter (3.1–5; 4.8–10) in order to reinforce his position that their apostasy was unacceptable. This letter, in fact, reveals that some of his readers, having been persuaded by the agitators (5.7), had begun seriously to contemplate circumcision. To ––––––––––––––––– 119 For the civic obligations involved in the public worship of the emperor, see pp. 42ff. above (cf. Origen Cels. 8.21, quoting Thucydides I.70: ‘A feast is nothing but doing one’s duty’). 120 Mitchell 1993:II.10.

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this group Paul gives a stern warning in 4.21–5.6. To be sure, the theological arguments within the letter were meant to instruct all of the Galatian churches. Either course of action – circumcision or pagan observances – would need to be combated by theological teaching on the nature of Gentile inclusion, the new creation in Christ,121 and the reality of suffering for the cross of Christ. If we take seriously Luke’s account of Paul’s ministry among the churches of south Galatia according to Acts 13:13–14.28, we find supplementary support for our reading of the Galatian crisis. In a ministry fraught with persecution both from non-Jesus-believing Jews and local civic authorities, Paul admonished the Galatian churches that ‘It is necessary to enter the kingdom of God through many tribulations (dia_ pollw~n qli/yewn)’ (Acts 14.22). If the account in Acts is indicative of the reality the Galatian Jesus-believers faced, the proposed hypothesis above is even more attractive. To be sure, we have mentioned that the actual reasons for the persecution in Acts are rather vague, so we must recognise this limitation when utilising the evidence from Acts. There still remain certain unresolved difficulties with our nuanced understanding of the Galatian crisis. The primary difficulty is that the issue of circumcision seems to be the major thrust of the letter. If Paul’s readers were observing the imperial cult, why does Paul not devote more attention to this topic? This is indeed a fair question, but not the Achilles heel. Given the agitators’ apparent arguments in support of circumcision for Gentiles, Paul was probably forced to make a sustained argument against their teaching. The thrust of the letter, after all, clearly was written to combat the agitators’ teaching. Their present practices of observing the pagan calendar could be addressed, on the other hand, in a brief (but stern) rebuke. At the very least, such practices would be ruled out as viable options in the course of his ethical admonitions (5.13–6.10). We might also add that the first two rebuking sections (1.6–7 and 3.3) are ambiguous enough to refer either to circumcision or to observing the imperial cultic calendar. Paul does not address the issue of circumcision explicitly until 5.2 (aside from the reference to Titus in 2.3), and there the tone is clearly a severe warning against a future action, not an indictment for present activities, as we find in 4.10. Having provided these provisional responses, however, we must admit that our alternative reading of 4.10 might raise questions that cannot be resolved entirely. ––––––––––––––––– 121

Price 1984b:106 notes that ‘time itself was changed by the imperial cult’. This phenomenon makes the observation of Martyn 1997:418 of particular importance: ‘By adopting the Teachers’ holy calendar in their quest for salvation, the Galatians are behaving as though Christ had not come, thereby showing that they do not know what time it is’. In addition, Martyn 1997:412 does well to point out that in Gal 4.9 Paul drew a stark contrast between life in the Old Age and redeemed life in Christ. Both of these observations would be even more powerful in the light of the imperial age of peace and security.

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To be sure, our alternative hypothesis has a number of advantages over the traditional view. First, we have taken seriously the fact that the only information regarding what the Galatians were doing comes from 4.10 and therefore should be the centrepiece of any reconstruction of the Galatian crisis. We have also been able to place the Galatian letter within its Graeco-Roman context, where the imperial cult played a significant part. In this regard, we have recognised the social pressures that the Galatian Jesus-believers would have faced in society and explored one of the ways in which they could have ameliorated these pressures. Finally, we have been sensitive to the generally negative attitude among Gentiles towards circumcision by explaining that the Galatian Jesus-believers had actually returned to pagan observances before rushing to be circumcised.

Conclusions We began our study with Gal 4.10 in order to discern whether the assumed view that the Galatians were observing the Jewish calendar might overlook a more complicated situation in the Galatian churches. After outlining several problems with the traditional view, we rehearsed the extensive evidence for the religious calendar of the imperial cult. Then, in order to test this reading, we attempted to reconcile this interpretation both within its immediate context of 4.1–11 and within its wider context in Galatians. As a result of our analysis, we have set out a fresh alternative for the Galatian situation. Although some of the Galatian Jesus-believers were seriously considering the option of circumcision, the churches as a whole had taken a step back and had begun to observe the emperor’s festal calendar in order to assuage their precarious social status as believers in Jesus. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul addressed two fronts, but not in the traditional way this view has been argued. Instead, the first front involved the observance of the imperial cult, which Gal 4.10 explains was a present reality for the Gentile Jesusbelievers. The second front, becoming circumcised, was a potential pitfall for some of Paul’s readers, which Paul needed also to address, especially considering the agitators’ compulsion (6.12–13). It is to this subset within the churches that Paul singles out in the allegory (4.21–5.1) and his subsequent warnings (5.2–6). Ultimately, to be sure, we must be content to recognise the probabilities involved in any historical reconstruction. Without further evidence we cannot hope to prove definitively the proposal presented here. We can and should, however, weigh up the traditional assumption against this alternative hypothesis in order to determine which thesis is more likely given both the data within the letter and the external evidence we have in Galatia. With both alternatives

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on the balance, it seems more likely that Gal 4.10 betrays a return to the imperial cultic calendar. If the thesis just presented is accepted, then we have helped to nuance our understanding of the situation in the Galatian churches. Far from being a Christian ghetto with no pressures from society, the Galatian Jesus-believers were forced to negotiate their obligations in society vis-à-vis the imperial cult. In this theologically dense and rhetorically piercing letter, Paul calls his readers back to the truth of the Gospel, himself standing firmly as an example for them to emulate (4.12), that they might be willing to suffer for the cross of Christ as the true children of Abraham.

Chapter 6 (WUNT), rev. 15:05, 12/1/07

Chapter 6

Conclusions The past is, by definition, a datum which nothing in the future will change. But the knowledge of the past is something progressive which is constantly transforming and perfecting itself. – M. Bloch, The Historian’s Craft, 58

Introduction In this study we have sought to understand both the crisis in the Galatian churches and Paul’s argument by first examining the available evidence in Galatia.1 We have thus turned to the world of the audience in order to shed more light on the social and religious setting of Paul’s letter. In the Forschungsbericht of the introductory chapter, we surveyed the two primary backgrounds that have been considered to be the social and religious milieu from which the Galatians were converted. We concluded that reading the letter against the backdrop of the imperial cult provides the more promising avenue to explore further in our attempt to understand the Galatian crisis and the nature of Paul’s argument. Part One of our study was thus devoted to the rise and proliferation of the imperial cult and its ideology throughout the Graeco-Roman world. We showed how symbol and message were all united in their display of Caesar being the world ruler who ushered in an age of peace and prosperity. The cult of the emperor was the primary vehicle for publicly displaying this loyalty to the emperor, and it was embraced with enthusiasm throughout the Mediterranean on both the local and provincial levels. All classes of society were often encouraged to participate in the various events sponsored by the local and provincial cult, and the imperial days of celebration were gladly welcomed by all sectors of society. We also noted that the cult was not merely an Augustan phenomenon, but that it gathered pace throughout the Julio-Claudian period. We then turned our attention specifically to the imperial cult and its ideology in the province of Galatia. Here we determined that the social and reli––––––––––––––––– 1 Would it be entirely inappropriate here to suggest that NT scholars should heed the method of Doyle’s imaginary sleuth from Baker Street, who believed it was a capital mistake to theorise before one had evaluated any evidence, as it would inevitably bend the facts to suit pre-existing theories instead of vice versa (see, e.g., Doyle 1994:7)?

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gious landscape of urban Galatia during the time of Paul was heavily influenced by the emperor’s reign. In particular, Augustus, Tiberius, and Claudius brought about a radical transformation in Galatia, indeed, signalling what could well be termed a ‘new creation’. In tandem with these changes, we also observed that the cult was founded and expanded rapidly in both North and South Galatia. Although the worship of the emperor was often closely connected with the worship of the Greek and Roman gods, many of the traditional cults were superseded in priority and in magnificence, as we found with the cult to the Mother goddess in Pessinus. The dominating presence of the worship of the emperor, with its games, festivals, and processions, was felt throughout the civic environment. What is more, the firm planting of imperial ideology, including the re-creation of civic space, was integral for unifying the Graeco-Roman community. One of our chief aims in this thesis has therefore been to utilise this background as we turned to the Galatian letter in order to evaluate its potential for understanding Paul’s letter. During the course of this survey, moreover, we raised several questions that we hoped to be able to answer by the end of our study.2 These questions can now be addressed as a way of summarizing our initial findings.

A. Galatians and the Imperial Cult? We first asked whether the crisis in Galatia was exacerbated, or perhaps even generated, due to the pagan background of the Galatian readers. We also inquired whether there were any social and/or political factors that were contributing to the crisis in Galatia. Our conclusion is that the crisis was spawned in part because of their former religious adherence, specifically to the public worship of the emperor. We first evaluated the view that the agitators were wanting the Gentile Jesus-believers to be circumcised so that they (the agitators) might avoid persecution for the cross of Christ. According to our understanding of Gal 6.12–13, this was a practical tactic, which was then formulated by introducing a number of theological points to underpin this strategy. The agitators’ refusal to endure persecution (in contrast to Paul), moreover, perhaps best explains Paul’s ill-tempered tone in this letter (cf. Acts 14.21–2). This point brings us to our provisional conclusion that the agitators’ compulsion is best understood against the backdrop of the imperial cult. According to Paul’s postscript, the agitators’ were compelling Paul’s readers to be circumcised, but they were concealing their true motives to secure a good ‘status’ in the flesh and thus to avoid persecution. Instead, the agitators ––––––––––––––––– 2

See pp. 16ff. above.

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formulated cogent theological arguments underpinning their claim that these Gentile Jesus-believers needed to be circumcised. In addition, the agitators were threatening to withdraw fellowship from the Galatian churches as a means both of escaping this persecution and of putting pressure on the Galatian readers to be circumcised (4.18–19). In much of the letter, Paul strongly refutes their theological arguments by formulating his own. At the finale to the letter, however, Paul picks up the pen and exposes the motives of the agitators. We have argued that the agitators were compelling the Gentile Jesusbelievers to be circumcised only in order that they (the agitators) might avoid persecution from the civic authorities for affiliating with Gentiles who had ceased observing the public worship of the emperor. In this respect, we determined that it was necessary to modify Winter’s proposal. He believed that the Galatian churches could find immunity from participation in the imperial cult by sheltering under the Jewish umbrella regarding Jewish exemption from observing the cult. We observed, however, that Jews had no such privileges, but that their civic obligations overlapped substantially with those of the Gentile population (notwithstanding, of course, the former’s adherence to monotheism). The issue, then, was not about Jewish exemption, but about navigating this nascent group’s position in society. Even if the agitators were avoiding persecution from fellow Jews, to be sure, the conclusions presented here are still plausible insofar as the Jewish community had turned over this nascent group to the civic authorities. This hypothesis would accord well with Luke’s account of Paul’s mission in Galatia (Acts 13–14), in which the Jewish people stirred up opposition among the élite citizens of the city (Acts 13.50; 14.5, 19). It must be admitted, however, that Acts says nothing of the worship of the emperor, and so we must remain cautious in our attempt to secure this hypothesis based upon the evidence in Acts. We also evaluated the view that Paul’s Gentile readers were attempting to negotiate their new status as the people of God, a group that, because of their belief in Jesus as Lord, experienced social dislocation in society. We suggested that the Galatian Jesus-believers, as uncircumcised Gentiles, were under pressure to continue with their pagan practices, namely, the public worship of the emperor. Thus, taking Gal 4.10 as referring to the imperial cultic calendar, we suggested that, at the time of Paul’s letter, the Galatians were probably participating in the imperial cult and that their reasons were motivated from socio-political concerns. The imperial cult has thus provided a fresh angle from which to read Paul’s letter with respect to the nature of the Galatian crisis. With our third question raised in Chapter 1, however, we turn specifically to Paul’s argument. We asked how Paul’s letter might originally have been heard against the background of the imperial cult. Specifically, our aim has been to determine

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whether Paul’s argument was meant to (re-)shape his readers’ worldview as a way of resolving the crisis. Our conclusion is that Paul’s message to the Galatians was a direct confrontation both to their observance of the imperial cult and to their contemplating a turn to Judaism. With this observation, we are therefore modifying the common assumption that Paul’s letter was merely a response to charges and teachings of the agitators. Paul begins his letter by speaking of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and emphasising that his coming delivered ‘us’ from the ‘present evil age’ (1.3–5). This statement would have rung bells among the Galatians, who lived in a society in which Caesar was considered to be the agent who ushered in the golden age of peace and safety. This understanding is further reinforced when we observe other passages in Galatians. In Gal 4.1–7, arguably the theological heart of the letter, Paul reveals not only that Jesus was the Son of God, which as we have seen would have stood in stark contrast to a common imperial title, but also that he was sent in the ‘fullness of time’. He came in order to rescue Israel from the (curse of the) Law, that is, being held under the sway of pagan gods and rulers as part of the deuteronomic curses (Deut 27–32). What is more, in Gal 4.8–9 Paul asserts that Jesus’ advent resulted in the Galatian readers’ recognition of Jesus as Lord over against ‘those which by nature are not gods’ (i.e. Caesar and the imperial family). God’s son was Jesus, and his coming reset the religious clock for the nations who formerly did not know God. In the finale of this letter, Paul insists that neither circumcision nor uncircumcision matters, but a ‘new creation’ (6.15). Paul had been crucified to the world and the world to him because the new creation had been inaugurated with the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. For Paul, the present age was evil because Jesus was not recognised as Lord. Coupled with his comments earlier in the letter, then, the Galatians would probably have heard Paul’s letter against the backdrop of the all-pervasive imperial cult and ideology. They would therefore have been challenged to recognise ‘what time it is’.3 Because Jesus is Lord, Paul’s readers were not to continue their participation in the worship of the emperor. Neither were they to succumb to the arguments of the agitators by becoming circumcised. Instead, they were to imitate Paul in his willingness to suffer for the cross of Christ, the very imitation that the agitators were avoiding.

B. Reflections on Galatians and Pauline Theology We are also interested, to be sure, with how this reading of Galatians might touch upon broader issues in the study of Galatians and in Pauline theology. ––––––––––––––––– 3

See Martyn 1985a.

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In the following discussion, we shall therefore briefly discuss some of these implications. 1. Who Were the Agitators? First, in evaluating the motives of the agitators, we reassessed the identity of the agitators. Although it is clear that they were not part of the churches at the time of Paul’s letter (1.6–7; 3.1; 4.17–20; 5.7–12; 6.12–13), we observed that this fact does not preclude that they formerly were part of the Galatian churches, perhaps even being some of Paul’s original converts. Our conclusion thus strengthens some recent studies on this topic, which have challenged the common view that the agitators came from outside Galatia. There are no good arguments, in fact, against the view that the agitators were indigenous to Galatia. This conclusion allows for a fresh reframing, not only of their identity, but also of the Galatian crisis and for determining what was at stake. 2. Is Suffering a Neglected Theme in Galatians? It is worth pondering the twin observations that in Galatians Paul includes neither a thanksgiving nor any commendation for the Galatians’ willingness to suffer for the gospel. Of course, it has long been observed that the lack of thanksgiving makes Galatians unique among Paul’s letters. Given their present apostasy, Paul had no reason to give thanks. What is not often considered, however, is that the opening of Galatians stands in stark contrast to that of 1 Thessalonians. Paul rebukes his Galatian converts for their apostasy, but he praises the Thessalonian readers for imitating Paul and Jesus in their willingness to suffer (1.6–7). In Galatians, on the other hand, Paul reveals that he was willing to suffer (Gal 5.11; 6.14–17), and conspicuously absent from the letter is any commendation of their willingness to do the same. No wonder Paul must command them to imitate him (4.12). Is this disconnect between 1 Thessalonians and Galatians simply because in Galatia there was no threat of suffering and social dislocation for believing the Gospel? As we mentioned in Chapter 4, E. Baasland suggested that suffering was a neglected theme in Galatians.4 As we have argued in this thesis, this feature in Galatians probably is no coincidence, but reveals more about the Galatian crisis than we might have first imagined. Perhaps not coincidentally, in the book of Acts we read that during his return journey through South Galatia, he instructed the Galatians ‘to continue in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God’ (Acts 14.22). There is no good reason for us to question Acts on this point, and so it provides useful supplementary material to read in conjunction with Paul’s letter. Our study has therefore confirmed that the theme of suffering is crucial for ––––––––––––––––– 4

For this view, see also Mitternacht 2002:427–30; Hafemann 2000; Keesmaat 1999; Hafemann 1997.

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understanding the Galatian crisis, and much more needs to be said to redress this shortcoming in the study of Paul’s letter to the Galatians. 3. What Was Paul’s Attitude to the Jewish Calendar? In turning our attention afresh to Gal 4.10, of course, we needed also to discuss the broader context of 4.1–10. In this regard, our fresh interpretation of 4.10 carries with it some important implications for Paul’s view of the Mosaic Law, specifically as it relates to the Jewish calendar. Here we shall limit our comments to a few points. Gal 4.10 has traditionally been summoned by scholars seeking to support the view that Paul considered Jewish observances to be part of the old era of existence under the law.5 More important, however, is the common argument arising out of this passage that Paul even took the shocking step of actually equating Jewish observances with paganism. In his discussion of covenantal nomism, moreover, J. D. G. Dunn has argued that the ‘works of the Law’ included (but was not limited to) the three badges of membership in the Jewish community that were used to exclude Gentiles – circumcision, dietary restrictions, and the Jewish calendar.6 Dunn notes that all three of these practices appear in this letter (cf. 2.3–5; 2.11–14; 4.10; 5.2), with 4.10 being one of the main works of the Law that Paul referred to in Gal 2.16.7 If this verse does not indicate any turn to a Jewish calendar, however, the agitators’ message in Galatians might have had to do more with the necessity of circumcision than with taking up the whole Mosaic Law.8 It also becomes a much more difficult task to argue that Paul no longer observed the Mosaic Law, as this verse has traditionally been one of the strongest pegs supporting this view. Finally, on our reading of 4.1–10, Paul did not believe the Mosaic Law was equivalent to paganism.9 4. Galatians: The End of Heilsgeschichte? Fourthly, our exegesis of Gal 4.1–11 has implicitly touched upon the hotly debated topic of salvation history in Galatians.10 J. L. Martyn has doubted that in Galatians we find any notion of salvation history. He has argued strenuously that Paul’s thoroughly apocalyptic perspective washes out any strong reading of salvation history, indeed, that ‘Given the work of the Teachers, Paul’s insistence on the singularity of the gospel has necessarily to be antiheilsgeschichtlich’.11 In contrast to his reconstruction of the agitators’ teach––––––––––––––––– 5

E.g. Westerholm 2004:302, 366–7, 417. See, e.g., Dunn 1985 and Dunn 1992. 7 Dunn 1993:227. 8 Similarly stated in Mitternacht 2002:408. 9 E.g. Thielman 1994:134. 10 For the most recent and thorough discussion, see Longenecker 1998:esp. 5–23, 90–5, 174–9. 11 Martyn 1991:176. 6

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ing, then, Martyn believes that Paul was forced to reorient the gospel to the Galatian readers in terms of God’s invasion of Christ into human history.12 Thus, with Paul’s apocalyptic purpose seen throughout the letter, Galatians marks the ‘end of Heilsgeschichte’.13 If our exegesis of Gal 4.1–11 is correct, however, then there is no reason to think that in Galatians Paul is rebuffing any notion of salvation history. Indeed, on our reading, Gal 4.1–7 actually contains strong apocalyptic elements within Paul’s précis of salvation history, which would suggest that there is no inherent dichotomy between Paul’s apocalyptic thought and his concern for the reversal of Israel’s plight under the (curse of the) Law and the inclusion of Gentiles as God’s people. Far from salvation history beginning from the time of God’s eschatological invasion in human history through Christ, as Martyn asserts, the incarnation rather was the pinnacle (dare I say climax?) of God’s saving activity in the world. If we are on the right track with our interpretation of Gal 4.1–10, we can no longer place Heilsgeschichte on the backburner of Paul’s theology in Galatians.14 At the very least, in contrast to J. C. Beker and Martyn, we can no longer assume that the agitators’ message forced Paul to deny salvation history in this letter. 5. Paul’s Cosmology and Imperial Ideology We must also make brief mention on Paul’s cosmological language in Galatians, particularly the language of ‘new creation’ and Paul’s view of the crucified world. E. Adams now has provided the most helpful discussion of Paul’s cosmological language. He insists that Paul’s language was clearly set within an apocalyptic framework.15 To be sure, he suggests that given the crisis in Galatia, the duality between the world and new creation (especially when seen in the light of the negative use of sa&rc) was meant to construct the worldview of his readers, not in opposition to Graeco-Roman society, but in separation from the Jewish community.16 ––––––––––––––––– 12

Despite his creative genius in his commentary, one of the things most frustrating is that Martyn hears the agitators virtually behind every statement, assertion, or imperative (sometimes even behind Paul’s omissions!) in this letter. Although this method provides a novel analysis of Paul’s letter, Barclay 1987:85 was correct when he stated some time ago in response to Martyn 1985b:313 that ‘poetic fantasy’ will probably not help us much in reconstructing the agitators’ teaching. 13 Martyn 1991:174. 14 Longenecker 1998 has discussed this debate in great depth, concluding that he finds more resonance with Martyn’s (and J. C. Beker’s) insistence that the situation in Galatia has dictated that Paul ‘has eliminated in his letter any notion of a salvation historical linearity in relation to the people of Israel’ (174). Having said this, however, he concedes by agreeing that in Gal 3.13–14 and 4.4–5, Paul has the restoration of ethnic Israel in view as a precondition for God’s universal triumph in Christ (177). 15 Adams 2000:231. 16 Adams 2000:231–2.

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If our interpretation of Gal 4.1–10 is accepted, we can now add to this observation that in Galatians, this construction would also have been heard in direct conflict with the age of the emperors, who were considered to be the Lord of all things. Paul was therefore not only constructing a new way of thinking about the world and its one true Lord, but was simultaneously demolishing their previous conceptions of the gods and the emperors. This understanding, in fact, accords well with perhaps the primary undercurrent of Jewish apocalyptic literature – the subversion of the ruling authority by claiming Israel’s God as the one true God.17 Much more, of course, needs to be discussed on this topic in order to assess critically how important this background is for Paul, but at least our reading of Galatians relates Paul’s apocalyptic framework specifically with his mission to the Gentiles, proclaiming that Israel’s God was the one true God (Gal 4.8–9). 6. The Imperial Cult and the NT? At the outset of this study, I indicated that one of the aims of the thesis was to contribute to the ongoing debate on the imperial cult as a backdrop for understanding the social and religious setting of the NT writings. The question mark in the titles both of this thesis and of the chapters comprising Part Two was by deliberate design. This is primarily because in the past few years the topic of the imperial cult has received an exorbitant amount of scholarly attention. On many occasions, the methods employed and the nuanced discussion on this important topic have been very helpful indeed,18 but other times one gets the impression that the imperial cult is the pawn of the modern interpreter with no critical boundaries, but only initial explorations.19 The question mark in the title thus reflects one of the crucial questions at present for NT interpreters: Is the topic of the imperial cult merely the latest fad that will soon be swept away with the next tide of biblical research? In this thesis, we have attempted to make a small contribution to this debate by undertaking a critical assessment of Paul’s letter to the Galatians. We have seen that this background must be taken seriously and not merely shoved to one side as irrelevant for our understanding of the NT world. While not necessarily indicative of all the NT writings, this background poses a plausible way forward for understanding the crisis in Galatia. We have also sought to recognise the limits of this topic for the social situation of Paul’s letter to the Galatians. And although we cannot have hoped to have settled the debate on the topic of the imperial cult in the NT, it has been our task to contribute to the ongoing debate by assessing with careful scrutiny this backdrop for Paul’s letter to the Galatians. ––––––––––––––––– 17

See esp. Wright 1992:280–338. Harrison 2002; Meggitt 2002. 19 Here I allude to Carter 2001. 18

Bibliography (WUNT), rev. 15:05, 12/1/07

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—, 2005. ‘“I Am Astonished That You Are So Quickly Turning Away!” (Gal 1:6): Paul and Anatolian Folk Belief’, NTS 51: 429–49. Ascough, Richard S., 1998. What Are They Saying about the Formation of the Pauline Churches?, New York: Paulist. —, 2003. Paul’s Macedonian Associations: The Social Context of Philippians and 1 Thessalonians, WUNT 2.161, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Baasland, Ernst, 1984. ‘Persecution: A Neglected Feature in the Letter to the Galatians’, ST 38: 135–50. Bacchiocchi, Samuele, 1977. From Sabbath to Sunday, Rome: Pontifical Gregorian University Press. Barclay, John M. G., 1987. ‘Mirror-Reading a Polemical Letter: Galatians as a Test Case’, JSNT 31: 73–93. —, 1988. Obeying the Truth: A Study of Paul’s Ethics in Galatians, SNTW, Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark. —, 1996. Jews in the Mediterranean Diaspora: From Alexander to Trajan (323BCE– 117CE), Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark. Barrett, C. K., 1976. ‘The Allegory of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar in the Argument of Galatians’, 1–16, In Rechtfertigung: Festschrift für Ernst Käsemann zum 70. Geburtstag, Edited by Johannes Friedrich, Wolfgang Pöhlmann and Peter Stuhlmacher, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. —, 1985. Freedom and Obligation: A Study of the Epistle to the Galatians, Philadelphia: Westminster. Bauckham, Richard J., 2005. ‘James, Peter, and the Gentiles’, 91–142, In The Missions of James, Peter, and Paul: Tensions in Early Christianity, Edited by Bruce Chilton and Craig A. Evans, NovTSup 115, Leiden: E. J. Brill. Beale, Gregory K., 1999. ‘Peace and Mercy Upon the Israel of God: The Old Testament Background of Galatians 6,16b’, Bib. 80: 204–23. Bellemore, Jane, 1984. Nicolaus of Damascus, Life of Augustus, Bristol: Bristol Classical. Belleville, Linda L., 1986. ‘Under Law: Structural Analysis and the Pauline Concept of Law in Galatians 3.21–4.11’, JSNT 26: 53–78. Benario, Janice M., 1960. ‘Book 4 of Horace’s Odes: Augustan Propaganda’, TAPA 91: 339– 52. Benjamin, Anna, and Antony Raubitschek, 1959. ‘Arae Augusti’, Hesp. 28: 65–85. Béranger, J., 1953. Recherches sur l’aspect idéologique du principat, SBA 6, Basel: Friedrich Reinhardt. Betz, Hans Dieter, 1974. ‘Spirit, Freedom, and Law: Paul’s Message to the Galatian Churches’, SEÅ 39: 45–60. —, 1975. ‘The Literary Composition and Function of Paul’s Letter to the Galatians’, NTS 21: 353–79. —, 1979. Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia, Hermeneia, Philadelphia: Fortress. —, 1994. Paulinische Studien: Gesammelte Aufsätze III, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Bligh, John, 1966. Galatians in Greek: A Structural Analysis of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians, Detroit: University Press of Detroit. Blinzler, Josef, 1963. ‘Lexikalisches zu dem Terminus ta_ stoixei=a tou= ko/smou bei Paulus’, 2.429–42, In Studiorum Paulinorum Congressus Internationalis Catholicus 1961, 2 Vols., AnBib 17–18, Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute. Bloch, Marc, 1953. The Historian’s Craft, Translated by Peter Putnam, Toronto: Vintage Books. Bömer, Franz, 1966. ‘Der Eid beim Genius des Kaisers’, At. 44: 77–133.

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177

Index of Ancient Sources

Index of Ancient Sources A. Hebrew Scriptures and Septuagint Genesis 1.14 21.9 Exodus 12.43–51 Deuteronomy 23.2 LXX 27–32 27–9 28.58–68

120 101

Isaiah 49.1

101

Jeremiah 1.5

101

Daniel 2.33–45

35

Hosea 11.1

136

121

7 151 9, 136–7 137

B. New Testament Matthew 2.1–12 Acts 13–14 13.4–12 13.14 13.50 14.5 14.5–6 14.19 14.19–20 14.21–2 14.22 15.1–4 16.9–24 16.22–4 17.1–10a 17.16–34 18.12–17

29

3, 18, 57, 113–14, 145, 150 63 52 114, 150 150 114 114, 150 98 149 145, 152 112 113 98 113 126 113

18.21 19.23–40 20.16 21.24

121 40 121 89

Romans 1.8–3.20 1.16–17 5 6.6 6.18 6.22 7.6 7.7–25 7.12 7.25 8 8.3 8.17 8.30 9–11

88 135 33 130 130 130 130 88 134 130 33 88 98 118 138

178

Index of Ancient Sources

9.12 9.24 12.2 12.11 14.5–6 14.18 16.18

130 118 139 130 132 130 130

1 Corinthians 1.2 2.6 2.8 3.18 4.11 5.7–9 5.8 7.15 7.17–24 8.1–6 8.1–13 8.5 9.19 10.20–1 15.3 16.8

139 139 139 139 98 94 121 118, 130 118 126 126 125–6 130 125 9 120, 132

2 Corinthians 1.5 2.14 4.4 4.8–10 5.17 6.4–5 10–13 11.23–7

98 76 139 98 139 98 97 98

Galatians 1.3–4 1.3–5 1.4 1.6 1.6–7 1.6–9 1.7 1.8–9 1.10–2.21 1.10 1.13–14 1.13

9 151 139 117 86, 117, 127–8, 141, 145, 152 118, 122, 144 86, 93 9 99 99, 100 100–1 88, 101

1.14 1.15 1.16–21 1.16 1.23 2.1–5 2.1–14 2.3–5 2.3 2.4 2.6–10 2.11–14 2.11 2.12 2.14–16 2.14–21 2.15–17 2.16 2.19–20 2.19–21 2.19–3.1 2.20 3–4 3.1 3.1–5 3.3 3.4 3.10–13 3.10–14 3.10 3.12 3.13–14 3.13 3.14 3.19–4.11 3.19 3.21 3.22 3.23–9 3.23–4.7 3.23 3.25 3.26–28 4.1–2 4.1–5 4.1–7 4.1–10

88 101, 118 99 131 88, 101 99 94 153 145 93 99 93–5, 100, 153 100 100 100 100 135 153 100 95 97, 101 131 130 86, 93, 100, 152 6, 95, 117, 127–8, 139–40, 144 7, 132, 140–1, 145 98 9, 113, 136 135–7 89, 130 89 138, 154 136 138 6 133 134 130 135 129 130 130 137–8 133, 137 135, 138 118, 130, 132, 151, 154 153

179

Index of Ancient Sources 4.1–11 4.3 4.4–5 4.4–6 4.4 4.5 4.6–7 4.6 4.7–9 4.7 4.8–9 4.8–10 4.8–11 4.8–20 4.8 4.9 4.10

4.11 4.12–20 4.12 4.13 4.14 4.16 4.17–18 4.17–20 4.17 4.18–10 4.18–19 4.21–5.1 4.21–5.6 4.21 4.25 4.29 5–6 5.2–6 5.2–12 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.7–10 5.7–12 5.7 5.8

132–3, 142, 146, 153 5, 120, 130, 132– 3, 137 130, 135, 137, 154 131 133, 135, 137–8 135 125, 128, 135, 138 95, 138 138 130 124, 130, 151, 155 127, 132, 138, 144 141–42 14, 15, 129 14, 126–7 5, 14, 120, 130, 132–3, 137, 145 11, 12, 14, 19, 116–18, 125, 131, 146–7, 150, 153 138 101, 102 102, 118, 147, 152 100 102 117 111 86, 100, 143, 152 14, 93–4, 121, 143 130 150 6, 94, 146 127–8, 131, 140, 141–42, 145 128, 130, 140 130 88, 95, 101, 113 6 115, 128–9, 139, 146 86, 94, 140 89, 117, 145, 153 88, 129 128 99 152 93, 100, 144 117

5.9 5.10 5.11

6.12–14 6.12–17 6.13 6.14–15 6.14–17 6.14 6.15 6.16 6.17 6.18

94 7, 86, 93, 99, 117 88, 95, 98, 100–1, 113, 152 7 140, 145 130, 140 89 140 130 140 9 130 87 85 85–6 87, 89, 98, 114 12, 19, 97, 100, 102, 114, 118, 146, 149, 152 95 99, 101 88–9, 128 100 152 85, 87, 97–8 85, 97–8, 139, 151 86 95, 97–9 130

Ephesians 6.7

130

Philippians 2.22 3.10 3.5 4.2

130 98 88 92

Colossians 1.24 2.8 2.16 2.20 3.24

98 120 119–20 120 130

1 Thessalonians 1.2–10 1.9

144 130

5.12 5.13–6.10 5.13 5.14 5.16 5.18 5.19–21 6.1 6.10 6.11–17 6.11–18 6.11 6.12 6.12–13

180

Index of Ancient Sources

2.12 4.7 5.24

118 118 118

2 Thessalonians 2.14

118

1 Timothy 6.2 2 Timothy 1.9

130

Titus 2.3 3.3

130 130

2 Peter 2.11

93

Jude 4

93

118

C. Josephus AJ (Antiquitates judaicae) XIV.110 108 XIV.259–61 107 XV.331 30 XV.339–40 30 XVI.280–5 105 XVII.42 109 XVIII.124 108 XIX.280–5 103

XIX.280–91 XIX.306

105 103

BJ (Bellum judaicum) I.403 I.414–15 II.197 II.409–10

30 30 104 107

D. Philo C. Ap. (Contra Apionem) II.77–8 103 II.196–7 103 In Flacc. (In Flaccum) 48–50 108 48 85 Legat. (Legatio ad Gaium) 133 108

157 232 280 317 353–7 367

103 104 103 103 104, 106 108

Spec. (De specialibus legibus) I.76–8 108

181

Index of Ancient Sources

E. Patristic Sources Augustine Epist. ad Gal. 34.1–36.8

122

Eusebius Hist. eccl. (Historia Ecclesiastica) VII.11 112 Justin Martyr Dial. (Dialogue with Trypho) 8 120 Lactantius Divine Institutes VIII.1–8 XIII.1–XV.3

125 125–6

Origen Cels. (Contra Celsum) 8.21 122, 144 8.22–4 122 Tertullian Apol. (Apology) 35.4 35.11

44 44

De idolol. (On Idolatry) 15–17 44 Victorinus Epist. ad Gal. 4.8–10

118

F. Other Greek and Latin Literary Sources Aelius Aristides To Rome 93–4

57

Augustus Res Gestae 3.3 6.38 11 16 22–3 22.2 25.2 28 29.2 34.1–3 34.2 35.1–2

49, 62 32 37 62 44 35 46 53, 62 74 67 27 67

Cassius Dio History XLVII.18.3–19.3 XLVII.18.5 XLIX.24.5 LI.2.1 LI.7.4

26 44 107 50 50

LI.15.5 LI.20.6–9 LI.21.5–22.2 LIII.13–14 LIII.26.3 LIV.34.6 LV.10.2–8 LV.10.3 LV.10.9 LV.28.2–3 LVII.8–9 LVII.24.6 LVIII.8.4 LVIII.20 LIX.3 LIX.4.4 LIX.23.4 LIX.26.5–28.7 LIX.26.10 LIX.27.2–6 LIX.27.5 LIX.29.1 LIX.30.1 LX.5.4

31 26 26 52 51 78 75 74 67 56 105 42 105 61 105 105 105 105 105 106 106 105 105 105

182

Index of Ancient Sources

Dio Chrysostom Or. (Orations) III.52 XXXI.15

143 143

Diodorus Siculus III.9.1 VI.1.2

126 126

Dionysius of Halicarnassus Lys. (De Lysia) 24 91 Horace Carm. (Carmina) I.12.46–8 Martial Ep. (Epigrams) 7.82

28

Pliny Ep. (Letters) 10.70

126

39

Pliny the Elder HN (Natural History) 2.93–4 28 5.94 52 Plutarch Mor. (Moralia) 458 F

50 52 56 51–52 51

Suetonius Aug. (Augustus) 7.2 17.5 29.1–2 31.4 52 58.2 98.2 101.4

27 31 74 35 24, 105 73 43 67

Cal. (Caligula) 22.1

105

Claud. (Claudius) 11.2 21.2

39 35

Iul. (Julius Caesar) 88

28

Nero 12.1

77

Tib. (Tiberius) 26–7 53.2 58

105 31 31

Vesp. (Vespasian) 23.4

24

127

Pausanias Desc. of Greece (Description of Greece) X.3.4 57 Plato Leg. (Laws) 93–4

XII.6.3 XII.6.4 XII.6.5 XII.8.14 LIII.26.3

Vita Ver. (Lives of Illustrious Men) 27 35 91

Seneca Ep. (Moral Epistles) 2.93–4

116

Strabo Geog. (Geography) XII.3.31 XII.5.3

52 70

Tacitus Ann. (Annals) I.8 II.87 III.36.1 III.48 III.63.3 IV.15 IV.36

39 105 31 56 31 42 42

183

Index of Ancient Sources IV.37–8 IV.37 IV.55–6 IV.55 IV.67.6 XIII.31 XV.74

24, 105 26 24, 42 40 31 77 105

Virgil Aen. (Aeneid) I.286–96 VI.789–94 VI.789–807

35 23 35

Ecl. (Eclogues) IV.38–45 IX.46–50

35 28, 34

G. Non-Literary Sources BMC (Emperor) Augustus 323 Augustus 691 Claudius 6–7 Claudius 72 Claudius 231–3

29 29 64 65 41

BMC (Province) Galatia 3 Galatia 23 Ionia 203–6 Ionia 207 Lycaonia 20

65 51 65 38 65

Braund no. 548

45

CIL III.4800 III Supp. 1.6799 III Supp. 1.6809 III Supp. 1.6843 VI.918 VI.940 VI.2042 VI.3751 VI.3768 VI.2.4035 VI.2.8894 VI.4.32323 X.2.8375 XIII.4333

109 64 61 61 109 109 109 109 109 51 51 35 37 45

CPJ II.153

39, 105

EJ no. 102 no. 128

106 126

FIRA no. 101 no. 102

45 45, 107

I.Ephesos IV.1404

44

I.Italiae 44 (p. 278)

38

I.Olympia 53

28

IG II/III2 3.3238 II/III2 3.3274 XII Supp. 124

39 39 30

IGRR III.137 III.246 III.1469 III.1473 III.1474 IV.39 IV.40 IV.201 IV.353 IV.947–8 IV.1398 IV.1756

45 64 63 68 68 28 44 28 38 42 106 43

184

Index of Ancient Sources

ILS 108 112 190 2696 6087 6896 7201 8781 9502

37 45 46 61 37 39 61 45 61

Johnson no. 149 no. 160 no. 161

45 45, 107 45

Kent 55

39

MAMA IV.142 IV.143 VI.250

67 67 40

Moretti no. 65

67

OGIS 532 533 659

45 69 40

OMS I (pp. 486–501)

42

P.Oxy III.240 VII.1021 XXXI.2555 P.Tebt. I.19

40 45 38

PIR2 C 1465 C 289

61 78

RIC Augustus 37a Augustus 102 Augustus 476 Augustus 506 Claudius 27 Claudius 119

28 29 29 29 64 41

RPC 2973 3529–30 3538–40 3542 3543 3555 3556 3557

39 61 63 65 66 65, 69 70 65

SEG XI.922–3 XI.923 XXXVI.1221

43, 106 24 38

Sherk no. 41 no. 68

45 43

SIG3 797

46

Smallwood 129 135 136

39 38 38

Thasos II.179–81

39

von Aulock 141–53 297–9

65 53

91

Index of Modern Authors Adams, E. 85, 133–4, 154 Alföldy, G. 24–5, 47 Altman, M. 23 Arnold, C. E. 4, 8, 9, 133–4, 136 Ascough, R. S. 3, 128 Baasland, E. 98, 101 Bacchiocchi, S. 132 Barclay, J. M. G. 2–4, 8, 11, 13, 88, 90, 92–3, 95–6, 99, 119, 128, 141, 142–3, 154 Barrett, C. K. 11, 87, 89, 133 Bauckham, R. J. 1 Beale, G. K. 85 Bellemore, J. 27 Belleville, L. 130, 133 Benario, J. M. 36 Benjamin and Raubitschek 28 Béranger, J. 24 Betz H. D. 1, 4, 11, 85, 87–8, 93, 117–18, 120, 122, 125, 133, 136, 141–2 Betz, H. D. 3 Bligh, J. 89 Blinzler, J. 133 Bloch, M. 20 Bömer, F. 45 Borse, U. 98 Bowen and Garnsey. 126 Bowersock, G. W. 24, 50 Boyer, C. 85 Boyle, A.J. 35 Braund, D. C. 51 Brent, A. 16–17, 25, 34–5 Breytenbach, C. 14, 18 Brinsmead, B. H. 1, 142 Bruce, F. F. 92, 98, 118, 133–6 Burdy and Tasçlıalan 59 Burke, P. 25 Burton, E. de Witt 99, 125, 133, 135–6 Byron, J. 133, 136 Calvert, N. L. 132

Carter, W. 16, 17, 155 Cerfaux and Tondriau 24 Charlesworth, M. P. 105–6 Cheeseman, G. L. 56, 63 Christol and Drew-Bear 63 Cineira, D. A. 90, 92 Clausen, W. 35 Clauss, M. 24 Cole, H. R. 123, 128 Cole, R. A. 122 Cooper, S. A. 118 Corsani, B. 87 Cosgrove, C. H. 85, 133 Courcelle, P. 35 Cousar, C. B. 133 Cronin, H. S. 53, 54, 68 Crownfield, F. R. 90 Cummins, S. A. 95, 97, 99, 101 Cuss, D. 16, 23 Dahl, N. A. 86 Davis, B. S. 100–1 Deininger, J. 36, 47, 67, 68 Deissmann, G. A. 17, 23, 33, 98 Delling, G. 133–4 DeSilva, D. A. 94 Dobesch, von G. 27 Dodd, B. J. 1, 90, 101 Donaldson, T. L. 1, 2, 138 Du Toit, A. 85, 88–9, 93–4 Dumser, E. A. 26 Dunn, J. D. G. 1, 2, 85, 92, 98–9, 118– 19, 125–6, 128, 132–3, 135, 142, 153 Eckert, J. 88, 118 Edson, C. 36 Elliott, S. 3, 5–8 Étienne, R. 27 Evans, C. F. 97 Fairweather, J. 2 Fayer, C. 24 Feldman, L. H. 127

186

Index of Modern Authors

Fink, Hoey, and Snyder 37 Fishwick, D. 24, 26–7, 34, 37–8, 40, 43– 4 Forbes, C. 97 Fraenkel, E. 36 Fredriksen, P. 1, 13 French, D. H. 54 Friesen, D. H. 16, 24, 27, 41 Fung, R. Y. K. 87–8, 90, 119–20, 128, 132–33, 141 Gagé, J. 67 Garland, D. E. 126 Garland, R. 126 Gaventa, B. R. 1, 100 Georgi, D. 124 Goddard and Cummins 100–2 González, J. 109 Goodman, M. 98 Gradel, I. 67 Griffin, J. 34 Gruen, E. S. 104 Güttgemanns, E. 98 Hafemann, S. J. 101, 130, 133, 135–7, 152 Halfmann, H. 51, 65, 68–9 Hall, A. S. 54, 65–6, 68 Hall, R. G. 1 Hansen, G. W. 50, 57, 73, 85, 88 Hardin, J. K. 113 Hardy, E. G. 67 Harris, B. F. 45 Harrison, J. R. 18–19, 25, 28, 33, 155 Harvey, A. E. 90, 120 Herrmann, P. 45–6 Herz, P. 24, 123 Hester, J. D. 1, 136 Hill, G. F. 61 Hong, I. G. 92, 133 Horrell, D. G. 25 Horsley and Stendahl 16 Horsley, R. A. 16 Hubbard, M. V. 85 Hurtado, L. W. 90 Imhoof-Blumer, F. 61 Jewett, R. 4, 6, 11, 13, 86, 90, 92, 120, 141 Jones, A. H. M. 52 Jones, C. P. 98 Juster, J. 103, 104, 109 Keesmaat and Walsh 16–17

Keesmaat, S. C. 90, 101, 112, 136–7, 141, 152 Kern, P. H. 1 Kienast, D. 27 Kneissl, P. 45 Koester, H. 41 Kraybill, J. 18 Kreitzer, L. J. 40–1 Krencker and Schede 68–9 La Piana, G. 104 Laffi, U. 32 Le Cornu and Shulam 122 Leon, H. J. 108–9 Leschhorn, W. 51–2, 69 Levick, B. 4, 50–7, 62–5, 78, 125 Liebeschuetz, H. W. G. 42 Lightfoot, J. B. 85, 99, 118–19, 125–6, 132–3, 142 Longenecker, B. W. 93, 137, 153–4 Longenecker, R. N. 88, 90, 92–4, 119, 135–6, 140 Lührmann, D. 119 Lütgert, W. 90, 140 Lyons, G. 1, 94, 99, 101 Lyttelton, M. 74 Magie, D. 45, 51, 53, 64–5 Martin, T. 121–2, 127–8 Martyn, J. L. 2, 3, 11, 16, 70, 86, 93–4, 119–20, 123, 125, 130, 132–3, 136, 139, 142, 145, 151, 153–4 Mastin, B. A. 16 Matera, F. J. 119–20, 125, 132 Meeks, W. A. 10 Meggitt, J. 10, 16, 25, 28, 31, 33, 41–42, 44, 47, 155 Mell, U. 85 Mellor, R. 24, 66, 68 Meyer, H. A. W. 99 Millar, F. 30, 41–42, 62 Minear, P. S. 85 Mitchell and Waelkens 4, 58–63, 71–76 Mitchell, S. 4, 10, 18, 36, 46, 51–8, 62–5, 67–70, 73–4, 77, 80, 144 Mitford, T. B. 45–6 Mitternacht, D. 101, 152–3 Moore-Crispin, D. R. 133–5 Mowery, R. L. 16 Muddiman, J. 13, 113 Muller, C. G. 97 Munck, J. 90

Index of Modern Authors Murray, M. 88 Mußner, F. 88, 99, 118–19, 133, 141 Nanos, M. D. 1, 2, 13, 86, 88, 90, 93–4, 117, 122, 128, 142 Oepke, A. 133 Oh, B-L. 4, 10–12 Onians, J. J. 74 Panciera, S. 37 Perkins, P. 120 Pighi, G. B. 35 Pilhofer and Witulski, H. D. 76 Plumer, E. 122 Price, S. R. F. 24, 27–8, 30–1, 33, 36, 38–43, 46–7, 65, 71, 105–7, 123–4, 143, 145 Pucci Ben Zeev, M. 13 Rabello, A. M. 103, 108–9 Rajak, T. 13, 103 Ramage, E. S. 67 Ramsay, W. M. 3, 39, 51–53, 55–6, 58– 9, 61, 63, 65, 71–2, 76, 78, 120, 135 Rapa, R. K. 2 Reasoner, M. 3 Reicke, B. 133 Reynolds, J. 57 Richardson, P. 88, 94, 98 Ridderbos, H. N. 133 Robert, L. 28, 43, 76, 78 Robinson, D. M. 59, 61, 67–8, 71–74, 76, 78 Robinson, D. W. B. 94 Ropes, J. H. 90, 140 Ross, J. M. 121 Ryberg, I. S. 35 Sacks, K. S. 126 Salmon, E. T. 54 Samuel, A. E. 33, 37, 123–4 Sanders, E. P. 107–8, 133 Schlier, H. 86, 119, 141 Schmithals, W. 11, 88, 90, 133 Schneider, G. 85 Schnider and Stenger 87, 99 Schrenk, G. 86 Schürer, E. 104, 108 Scott, J. M. 2, 130, 135–7 Scott, K. S. 28, 31, 124 Scramuzza, V. 64 Seid, T. W. 97 Shear, T. L. 28, 30 Sherk, R. K. 78

187

Silva, M. 2 Simon, E. 26, 31, 104 Skarsaune, O. 104, 108 Smallwood, E. M. 103–4, 106 Smit, J. 1 Smith, C. C. 143 Smith, R. R. R. 74 Solin, H. 109 Stanton, G. N. 13, 15, 17, 25, 33, 73, 112, 122, 127, 131, 139 Stauffer, E. 23 Sterrett, J. R. S. 76 Stuckenbruck, L. T. 133–4 Stuhlmacher, P. 85 Sumney, J. L. 2, 88, 92–3, 95–6 Sutherland, C. H. V. 29, 64 Swift, E. H. 31 Tannehill, R. C. 97 Tasçlıalan, M. 59, 73 Taylor, John W. 44 Taylor, Justin. 1 Taylor, L. R. 24, 28, 105 Tellbe, M. 13, 25, 103–5 Theissen, G. 10 Thielman, F. 2, 133, 136, 153 Thiselton, A. C. 120 Thurén, L. 93, 94 Tomson, P. J. 2 Toner, J. P. 31 Tuchelt and Prießhofen 68 Tuchelt, K. 71 Tyson, J. B. 2, 86, 94 Van der Horst, P. W. 109 Vandeput, L. 64 Volkmann, H. 67 Vos, J. S. 99 Vouga, F. 136 Wacholder, B. Z. 27 Waelkens, M. 64, 68–70 Wagner, G. 90 Wallace-Hadrill, A. 29, 34 Watson, D. F. 100 Weima, J. A. D. 85, 87, 90, 97 Weinstock, S. 26, 28, 31, 45–6 Westerholm, S. 153 White, L. M. 108–9, 117 Williams, S. K. 7, 136, 139 Wilson, T. A. 128, 130, 136 Winter, B. W. 3, 12, 13, 86, 91, 112–14, 126

188

Index of Modern Authors

Wisdom, J. 133 Wiseman, T. P. 70 Witherington, B. 1, 13, 93, 98, 118, 125, 127, 132, 134–6, 140–51 Witulski, T. 14, 73, 76–8, 122–4, 127, 129–30, 132, 142

Wright, N. T. 2, 3, 13, 16–17, 25, 47, 135, 137–9, 155 Yavetz, Z. 67 Zanker, P. 24, 26, 29–32, 36, 74 Zetzel, J. E. G. 43

Index of Subjects Agrippina 39–41, 65, 123 Alexandria 39, 110, 123 Anatolian folk religion 9 Artemis (Diana) 40–1, 124–5 Asia 23, 26, 29–30, 32–3, 36, 42, 46, 50, 67, 71, 124, 143, 165, 167–8, 174 Augustus 23–5, 26–30, 32–57, 59, 61–68, 70–75, 78–9, 104–5, 108, 123–4, 138, 149, 162, 165–6 Bithynia 26, 39, 50

86–102, 111–23, 127–9, 139, 140–46, 149–54 – agitators 92–94 – date and location of 20 – integrity of 127–32 – rhetorical species of 1 – salvation history 132–38, 153–54 – social setting of 5–15 – stoicheia 130, 132–5, 137 – suffering 101–102, 110–14, 152–53 – two-front hypothesis 140–42

Caligula 105, 123 Claudius 23–4, 36, 38–41, 51, 53, 56, 63–5, 68, 71, 73, 79, 105–6, 109, 123, 126–7, 131, 149 Coinage 21, 28–30, 39, 51, 53, 61, 64–5 Cybele, cult of 5, 8, 16, 41, 68, 80–1

Herod the Great 27, 30

Ephesus 26, 29, 38–41, 65, 71, 120–1, 124–5

Julius Caesar 26, 28, 34, 41, 54, 123

Galatia – Ancyra 14, 41, 52, 58, 66–71, 73, 79, 124 – Apollonia 51, 53, 54, 67, 72–3, 124 – formation of province 50–57, 57–78 – Iconium 53–4, 57, 62–3, 65, 68 – Lystra 53–4, 62–3, 68 – Pessinus 5, 8, 14, 16, 41, 52, 58, 64–5, 67–71, 73, 78–9, 149, 174 – Pisidian Antioch 10, 15, 30, 34, 39, 41, 51, 52, 54, 58, 60–63, 67, 71–74, 77– 9, 124, 127, 131, 138, 144 – Taurus region 55–7, 64 – Tavium 14, 51–52, 67 – via Sebaste 54–6, 66 Galatians – agitators 2–4, 6, 7, 9, 10–13, 16, 19,

Imperial Cult – ideology 26–48 – relationship with G-R religions 40–42 –Jewish participation in 102–110

Livia Druscilla (Julia Augusta) 30, 39, 42–3, 45, 71, 123, 126 Macedonia 36, 49 Mên, cult of 41, 51, 68, 71 Nero 31, 45, 61, 67, 73, 77, 123 Nicolaus of Damascus 27, 174 Priene (Calendar) Inscription 32 Res Gestae Divi Augusti 44, 67, 68, 69, 71, 79, 124 sidus Iulium 28, 61 Tiberius 24, 37, 39–40, 42–3, 45–6, 53,

190

Index of Subjects

56, 59, 61, 63, 67–9, 71, 79, 105, 110, 123, 149

Vespasian 24, 53