2015-03-13T23:04:02-04:00

The article by Andreas Dettwiler (translated by Eric Gilchrest and Nicholas Zola, the former of which is one of my own former students) has much the same orientation as the article by Sterling, reviewed in the previous post in this particular series. That is, it involves a comparison of the supposedly deutero-Pauline Colossians and Ephesians to the portrait of Paul in Acts. Like so many who take this view of the pseudonymous character of those Pauline letters, the author talks about a Pauline school, something for which we have no historical evidence or basis whatsoever. Dettwiler however wants to emphasis that authority stressed in these documents.

Thus, for example Dettwiler points out that in Colossians and Ephesians Paul is presented as an uncontested authority figure, in contrast to the earlier Paulines. This contrast forgets that: 1) Colossians is written to a congregation Paul did not found and had not gotten embroiled in controversy with, and 2) Ephesians is a circular document not an ad hoc particularistic one. This does not allow the confident conclusion “Therefore, the Paul of Colossians, and even more noticeably the Paul of Ephesians, seems to have been a figure detached from any historical contigency or individuality.” (p. 249).

With those sorts of presuppositions, Dettwiler then is somewhat surprised that the image of Paul conveyed in these documents doesn’t amount to guilding the lily, or turning Paul into a hero. He is also somewhat surprised that in the case of Ephesians the writer “does not seem to have made any effort to create a strong and convincing ‘pseudepigraphical situation’.” And then he endorses the conclusion that “we are dealing here with a pseudepigraphy that lacks real pseudepigraphical elements.” (p. 251), in contrast to some efforts in that direction in Colossians. Of course these puzzles disappear if these are Pauline documents, and the later one is a circular letter. Sometimes scholarly presuppositions create more problems than they solve. Of course all of this is brought into question by Ehrman’s now very detailed demonstration that there was no literary convention in antiquity of pseudepigraphy that made it an ethically unobjectionable practice.

I agree with Dettwiler however that Luke does not present Paul as a largely polemical figure. It is untrue to say that Paul is not presented as a controversial figure, at least in the context of Jerusalem. To the contrary, Paul is constantly embroiled in controversy in Acts when he goes to Jerusalem, and finally it leads to his incarceration. What is interesting about this is that Luke is fair enough to show that the controversy was with both non-Christian Jews, and Christian ones (see Acts 15). Note as well, that not even the Christian ones come to his defense when he is under house arrest in Caesarea Maritima. Not even Luke presents us with an uncontroversial, non-polemical Paul. Dettwiler explains the lack of calling Paul an apostle in Acts as a result of Luke being in a community where the term was limited to the 12. This hardly explains what we find in Acts 14. Is Paul then presented as a figure of uncontested authority in Acts and Ephesians? No, in the former case, and the matter is not an issue in Ephesians.

Dettwiler then turns to the dialogical nature of ancient friendly letters, as outlined by Cicero and Seneca. Here he is on more solid footing. He quote Stan Stowers approvingly when he says that letters convey a fictive presence of the author to the recipient when the author is absent (earlier scholars called this the apostolic parousia–see p.255). Dettwiler however makes a good point when he stresses that the mention of Paul being in chains underscores the forced absence of the apostle, and gives more pathos to these Pauline letters especially underlining his suffering on their behalf. I also agree with Dettwiler that Luke, while alluding to the demise of the person of Paul, stresses the ongoing endurance of the Word, boldly proclaimed in the capital city– Rome (p. 256). But then Luke is writing salvation not a biography of Paul.

Dettwiler goes on to emphasis the ‘musterion’ dimension of both Colossians and Ephesians, with Paul being the special emissary who unveils the mystery of God’s inclusion of the Gentiles into God’s people without their becoming practicing Jews. Dettwiler admits that this seems to be stressing that Paul has a very high authority, indeed a unique one to unveil this form of the Gospel and so reach the Gentiles for Christ. It is going too far however to speak of a quasi-soteriological status for Paul (p. 258). Yet Paul is the paradigmatic presenter of the Good News for the Gentiles, and both Colossians and Ephesians allude to this, but so does Acts in a different narratival way.

Dettwiler is however on to something in stressing that in Acts it is Paul the founder of communities that is stressed whereas in the letters it is Paul the developer and nurturer of communities, hence Luke does not mention the letters. Put another way Luke is focusing on evangelism, Paul in his letters on discipleship. (see p. 260). This should have led to the conclusion that it’s not a big deal that Luke chooses not to mention the letters. It’s outside the scope of what he is trying to unveil in Acts— the spread of the Word across the Mediterranean to more and more people groups. Dettwiler concludes his essay (pp. 262-63) by rightly stressing that more reflection should be given to the relationship of Paul as paradigmatic presenter of the Gospel, and Paul as a unique and distinctive proclaimer of the Good News to the Gentiles. Here I would just suggest that as 1 Cor. 3 says, there is a difference between the historical role the man played as church planter, which was often unique, and the message or Word that he planted, which was shared by Apollos and others.

2015-03-13T23:04:08-04:00

Richard Pervo’s contribution to the Paul and the Heritage of Israel volume, entitled “(Not) Appealing to the Emperor” is a valuable one. For one thing, it is a mistake to lump attitudes about the Empire, attitudes about a particular Emperor (say Nero) and attitudes about the growing Imperial cult together. One could be anti-Imperial cult without reservation and at the same time say something like we find in Rom. 13. Pervo’s purview is to sort of Luke’s view, and he begins with a crucial point— you can’t date a document very adequately on the apparent attitudes it reflects to these three aforementioned inter-related matters. He is right that until A.D. 250 Emperors were not the main enemies of concern for the Christians. (p. 166). He is also quite right that there are no unequivocally pro-imperial Christian writers in the first three centuries of Christian history. Most Christians saw both pros and cons in the Emperor and the Empire and all things Roman, unless and until they were persecuted by the Roman authorities. As Pervo stresses it doesn’t help to over-stress the pros at the expense of the cons, or vice versa. A more balanced approach is needed. In the assessing of Luke-Acts there are advocates who suggest a more pro position, and those which more recently suggest a con position (cf the assessment of K. Rowe), but the point is there is evidence in this almost one third of the NT to support both arguments.

Interestingly, Pervo feels compelled to deal with Rom. 13.1-7 first. He points out quite rightly that early Christian use of this passage shows that the powers in question were assumed to be earthly, not angelic or heavenly, though Irenaeus apparently knew of some Christians who had argued the latter case and he felt a need to refute it (Ad Haer. 5.24.1). Paul, as Pervo points out, is standing in a long line of Jewish tradition in what he says in Rom. 13, especially more recently the Wisdom tradition, the basic point of which was that monarchs rule at God’s pleasure and all real authority comes from God (cf. 2 Sam. 12.8; Jer. 27.5-6;Dan. 2.21-38; 4.17-32, 5.21; Wis. Sol. 6.3; 1 Enoch 46.5; Josephus Wars 2.140). 1 Clement 60.4-61.1 makes reasonably clear that Rom. 13 is known by Christians in Rome in the latter part of the first century, and agreed with. It is possible, but uncertain that 1 Peter 2.13-17 reflects a knowledge of what Paul says in Romans 13 (and compare 1 Tim. 2.1-3; Tit. 3.1-3,8). The prayer for the Emperor in 1 Clement, namely for the Emperor to do the right thing, shows that obedience could be qualified in some respects, especially if the Emperor was persecuting Christians. Still, there is a difference between an illegitimate Emperor, and a legitimate one behaving badly. Even martyrs like Polycarp talking about praying for the Emperor and even persecutors (Phil. 12.3). Justin (1 Apol. 17) talks about Christians willingly paying taxes.

Pervo (p. 170) points to a very interesting passage in Martyrdom of Polycarp 10.2 where Polycarp, speaking to a proconsul,talks about having been taught to respect the governing authorities appointed by God (a probable allusion to Rom. 13 and perhaps 1 Peter) “as long as it does us no harm…”

Pervo then points to the somewhat revolutionary material in Lk. 1-2 particularly Lk. 1.68-79 and 1.46-55 contrasting with the arrival of a new savior who brings peace (2.11-14). So as Pervo says “Luke thought that God could do better than the Roman Empire, which was not, for that reason, wicked. [But] “The same material that makes Jesus a rival of Augustus (and Trajan) is also willing to see the emperor and empire as tools of Providence: Lk. 2.1-7.” (p. 171). Luke’s work is not like the later Acts of the Scillitan martyrs who take a radical stance and refuse not only to swear by the ‘genius’ of the Emperor but also refuse to pray for his welfare. This dates to A.D. 180, and shows a change in attitude to earlier Christian literature.

Acts of Paul 14 stands in contrast to earlier NT literature that deals with the subject, here, as Pervo points out, Paul is depicted as refusing any recognition of the Emperor’s earthly power or of his legal criminal jurisdiction. (p. 172). The importance of the Acts of Paul (and Thecla) is in part that it sees itself as a continuation of Acts 28, telling the rest of the story. But as Pervo notes, the attitude towards the governing authorities has changed from Acts to Acts of Paul 14. Pervo thinks that there are linguistic traces of knowing the Pastorals in Acts of Paul 14, though he argues that the attitude towards government is very different. There are some important resources listed in this article as well, for example the classic study by E.J. Cadoux, The Early Christian Attitude to War (1919 was the original publication date), and on Christians serving in the Roman military J. Helgeland, “Christians and the Roman Army from Marcus Aurelius to Constantine,” in ANRW II.23.1 (1979) pp. 724-834 and also W. Rordorf, “Tertullians Beurteilung des Soldatenstandes,” in Lex orandi, lex credenda (Freiburg: Universitatsverlag, 1993), pp. 263-99 with bibliography.

It is typical of the reasoning which insists on the Pastorals being post-Pauline and perhaps very post-Pauline that when Pervo finds echoes of the Pastorals in Polycarp’s letter to the Philippians, he mentions the notion that Polycarp is the author of the Pastorals as well as his own letter. But if both the Acts of Paul and Polycarp reflect knowledge of the Pastorals, this more likely suggests that the Pastorals preceded both such sources.

Pervo concludes his helpful study, remarking “One purpose of this paper has been an attempt to demonstrate that the attitude towards the Roman Empire, by which one must mean ‘attitudes’, is not a valid criterion for dating texts. The chronological table that begins with the radical apocalyptic c. 30 CE and ends with the church as chaplain to the establishment c 330 CE is utter nonsense. The millenarian Orosius, for example, belonged to the early fifth century.” (p. 179). This is an important point. Different early Christians reacted differently to Roman authority during the period leading up to Constantine, and even thereafter. As for Luke “The Way he envisioned was amenable to Greco-Roman culture and to imperial rule, but it was neither married to it nor overly concerned with defending it, although it could help make some improvements.” (p. 179). Luke according to Pervo assumes the posture of a reformer, not one that wants the existing governmental structure knocked down necessarily. (p. 179).

2015-03-13T23:04:09-04:00

The second major portion of Paul and the Heritage of Israel deals with The Figure and Legacy of Paul in Acts. The first essay in this section is an important one by David Moessner.

Moessner situations Acts, quite rightly, as a volume completed in the last couple of decades of the first century when the first generation of witnesses had died off or were no longer able to give credible witness. Written apostolic traditions are proliferating, collections of Paul’s letters are circulating and stirring up controversy and Luke sets out to promote Paul as the star witness to Jesus and to stress Paul’s own view about the rejection and exaltation of Jesus, Israel’s messiah, as the authoritative interpretation of the apostles for the growing nexus of churches. (p. 117).

Interestingly, he quotes John Locke at the outset— “Any testimony, the further off it is from the original truth, the less force and proof it has….the more hands the tradition has successively passed through, the less strength and evidence does it receive from them”. (Essay concerning Human Understanding IV.6.10).

The thesis stated above (before the Locke quote) “is demonstrated by showing how Luke utlilizes rhetorical methods of elaboration (exergasiai) intrinsic to conventions of Hellenistic historiographic ‘narrative arrangement (oikonomia) to portray Paul as Messiah’s chief witness…[by] I. arranging his material on a topic or event (pragmatikos topos) to create a sequence (taxis) according to the criteria of ‘disposition’ or ‘division’ (diairesis), Luke establishes ‘the continuity of narrative’…and by II. linking his volumes together through a recapitulatory preface (prooimion), reconfigures his first volume on ‘all that Jesus began to do and to teach’ as the defining template for all that Jesus continues to do and to teach through his witnesses and thus by, III. binding Paul to the beginning of volume two, enfolds Paul into the beginning of Messiah Jesus and the Twelve such that Paul becomes the incomparable, indispensable ‘witness’ to the beginning of the gospel, and indeed, himself becomes the definitive of the tradition of the Twelve.'” (p. 118). [Note to blog reader– this last unbearably long sentence while crucial, shows what happens to English syntax when a scholar has been reading too much German theologische and exegetical commentary before bedtime].

Moessner is very well read in the necessary Greek literature to be able assess Luke’s style and rhetorical finesse and program and he is right that from the beginning of Greek literature “writing was primarily an aide to persuasive speech” as shown by Plato’s Phaedrus 271d,e.(p. 119 n. 13). The culture was largely oral, and texts supported the orality of the culture. This led to the growing interdependence of oral and written expression and conventions (p. 119). He is absolutely right that Polybius (202-120 B.C.), Diodorus Siculus (Julian period), and Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Augustan period) were all thoroughly immersed in the culture of rhetoric and conceived of their narratives as exercises in persuasion (p. 120). Luke follows in this tradition. [On all of this one should see both the Introduction to my Acts commentary and now the Introduction to Craig Keener’s Acts Commentary– Vol. One]. Events are arranged in a fashion that will persuade the audience about the author’s theses! The linear nature of the narrative reflects how ‘fortune’ has interwoven a sequence of events, which the narrative must mirror. This leads to a diachronic account by and large, as opposed to a region by region account such as we find in Thucydides history.

Moessner p. 121 goes on saying, “by the first century B.C. rhetoric had become an all-encompassing heuristic for compositional performance whether of speaking or writing.” (citing R.L. Enos, Greek Rhetoric before Aristotle (Waveland Press, 1993), pp. 91-140. He is absolutely right about this. This is why a non-rhetorical reading of Acts is always going to be deficient considering that rhetorical convention is guiding how Luke presents not just the speeches in Acts, but the whole narrative arrangement as part of the act of persuasion. Moessner shows how Diodorus stresses that even in a multi-volume work, each volume needs to be rounded off, and have a certain completeness to it, as is the case with Luke and Acts. And yet, as well the second volume will be presented as a continuation. The two volumes are then linked by a recapitulatory Introduction such as we find at the beginning of Acts, not only in first few verses, but in the recapitulation of the story of the Ascension. But the Ascension is presented in Lk. 24 as an event which brings closure to things, but in Acts it is the opening sequence that leads to Pentecost. Jesus must go away and send the promise of the Father from on high.

Moessner demonstrates from examples in Diodorus how narratives are linked together, and volumes as well, and how at the outset of volumes you have a rhetorical preview of coming attractions as in an exordium. Polybius is shown to stress that making a good beginning is crucial, indeed it needs to show the overarching goal of the whole narrative in advance (5.32.1-5). “Therefore we should know that beginnings do not only extend half way, but extend to the end, and both speakers/performers and auditors should take the greatest pains to relate them to their whole” (5.32.5). Beginnings not only reveal the genre of the whole work (see Lk. 1.1-4), they are decisive in determining the character of the whole if we are talking about rhetorical historiography like we find in Polybius, Diodorus, Dionysius, Luke, and for that matter Josephus. Against Thucydides season by season and region by region approach, Dionysius insists “a history narrative should be a flowing and uninterrupted written account” (De. Thucydides 9). “The beginning point is crucial for determining for the audience the quality and completeness of the whole, the purpose and even the scope of the plotted continuity” (p. 127). In Moessner’s view, Luke does something daring in placing Paul at the center of the witness to Jesus that spreads from Jerusalem to Rome, because of course he was controversial, and to many not even a real an apostle. And yet it is Paul who extends the work and word of Jesus, what ‘Jesus continued to do and to teach’, making Paul the ‘servant’ of Isaiah and so written into the very warp and woof of the Scriptures’ witness to Israel’s salvation through ‘the Messiah of God’.

On p. 131, one interesting note is that Moessner parallels the reforming of the 12 as witnesses in Acts 1 to what is said about the disciples in Lk. 6.13– namely that Jesus ‘named them also apostles’. Now this is an interesting note precisely because Luke also downplays the apostolic character of Paul. In the case of the Twelve and in the case of Paul this seems to be a secondary trait, not a primary one. So for instance, in Acts 1, it is the recompleting of the 12 as witnesses that is of interest, not the recompleting of a complete set of apostles. Herein we find one more reason to object to the later title ‘the Acts of the Apostles’. If it had been up to Luke it would have been ‘the Acts of the original witnesses’. For one thing, Lk. 6.13 makes very clear that whatever Luke means by apostle, he means something different than Paul who identifies apostle with having seen the risen Lord. This could hardly characterize the 12 at the juncture in the narrative which Lk. 6.13. The Twelve according to Luke have to have been witnesses since the baptism of John. Not so, the apostles according to Paul. In short, it is mistake to simply equate the Twelve with the apostles, even just on Lukan terms, In any case ‘all the witnesses’ is what Luke is truly exercised about.

But where does Paul fit into this schema? Moessner argues that Luke makes Paul become the definer and defender of the ‘from the beginning witness’of disciples and apostles to ‘all that Jesus began to do and teach’ (see Paul’s speeches in Acts).(p. 134). Moessner also points to Is. 49.6 in Acts 13.47 showing explicitly that Paul sees his mission as that of the servant of Isaiah, and his turning from Jews to Gentiles when the former reject the good news as given a basis or rationale in Is. 40-55, in this case Isaiah 49.1-6 (see p. 139). Ironically, it is Paul who fulfills the mandate ‘to the nations’ announced in Acts 1.8.

Finally, Moessner is able to point (p. 147) to Ps. Sol. 8.15 which shows that in the Jewish mindset ‘the ends of the earth’ is in this case a reference to Rome, and so Paul is indeed the servant/witness who proclaims the good news to the ends of the earth so those who are there may turn and be saved (Is. 45.22). Hence, Paul is seen at the end of Acts 28 as proclaiming this good news for some two years unhindered, even though most Jews are unconvinced and only gentiles in the main are responding. The Scriptures have been opened and even fulfilled, at the ends of the earth.

2015-03-13T23:04:39-04:00

One of the things most notable to the student of Biblical literature is the vast increase in the interest in the demonic and the angelic during the inter-testamental and NT eras compared to what we find in the OT itself. But it was not just Jews or Christians who were naming and calling on angels. Pagans did this as well. J.R. Harrison presents us in New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity Vol. 10 with an interesting inscription found on a gem stone, dating to perhaps 150 or so A.D. The inscription reads “Angel Iao may you give success and power and favor and assistance to Asklepiakos with the help of the first angels and the middle angels and final angels throughout his life and bodily protection, Abrasax O Damnameneus forever.”

What we are dealing with here is a magical spell, invoking various grades of angels to protect the wearer of this jewel. We know from the same period that Christians would wear things like, little carved versions of the Lord’s prayer around their neck for protection in travel and good help. The ancients were indeed a superstitious lot, and that includes the Christians. In this case what is interesting is the reference to ranks of angels. We might well compare Paul’s talk about angels and archangels or the various references to angels in the Gospels and in Revelation. It is interesting that on the whole Paul has next to nothing to say about demons, and only passing references to angels. This is in part because the NT is Christologically focused, and it leaves out other lesser middle men between us and God, quite readily. Yet the further we get into Christian history the more other mediators human and angelic creep into Christian piety— Mary, the Saints, various angels and so on. Ancient pagans were quite familiar with the notion of appealing not to the gods directly, who were too scary or busy, but to lesser supernatural or heavenly beings for help.

Harrison is also able to point to the magical papyri (in this case PGM I 300) where Apollo is actually called the first angel of Zeus. Pagans would quite readily add the names of Jewish angels in their syncretistic appeals for help, thus in this same inscription after Apollo is named we hear “and you Michael who rules heaven’s realms, I call and you archangel Gabriel down from Olympos, Abrasax, delighting in dawns, come gracious who views sunset from the dawn, Adonai” (cited on ND Vol. 10 p. 18). In these sorts of cases it is hard to know whether this reflects the prayer of a paganized Jew, or a pagan influenced by Jewish angelology. The point is, there was a lot of cross-fertilization of beliefs in the Diaspora, including in the Pauline cities in the NT era and thereafter.

2015-03-13T23:04:46-04:00

According to William Johnson (pp. 87-91), the standard bookroll tended to have 20 sheets, though production of rolls with up to 50-70 sheets are known, but they are surely special orders. If a scribe ran out of space, he would simply glue a new blank roll on to the end of the used up one. This process continued until the copying was complete, and then the excess or blank remnant would simply be cut away. “A reinforced sheet, with fibres at right angles to the roll itself could (but need not) be added at the beginning, perhaps also at the end, to help prevent fraying.” (p. 91). The tools needed were papyrus, pen, ink, sponge, knife, glue. The standards of construction seem to have been exceedingly exact when it came to bookroll production. Johnson is able to demonstrate how across a wide sample size the normal column width, and the normal width of an intercolumn between the two columns on a page was remarkably standard across hundreds of papyri. This in turn suggests to him, I think rightly, that we are talking about professional scribes producing the vast majority of ancient documents that have survived, scribes who had professional training. We have had occasion to review another crucial book about ancient scribes on this blog, namely K. Van der Toorn’s Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible. (See the previous incarnation of this blog at Beliefnet).

What is clear enough to me is that the under-estimation of the importance of scribes and their roles in the production of NT documents is a big mistake especially when it comes to authorship issues. This mistake is one of the things that characterizes the recent work of Bart Ehrman on forgery and the NT. He does not take into account that often scribes would assemble documents out of oral and written memoirs of persons, sometimes even after they were dead, and attribute them not to themselves but to their source, or most important source. In such circumstances, modern notions of authorship should not be anachronistically applied to documents like 2 Peter, which is a composite document (involving portions of Jude, a Petrine source, and other sources of information) or say the Gospel of Matthew (assembled out of Mark, Q, and some special M material).

Here are some of my notes from the important latter part of Johnson’s book.

There is a definite difference between prose and poetic texts. Prose texts determinate at the right margin at a regular spot down the page, poetic lines do not.

Literary prose texts are more uniformly written in neat narrow columns than mundane documents, subliterary texts, or letters…. The tendency in any case was narrower columns earlier in the Roman period and wider ones by the third century.

p. 112 One interesting finding is that nicer volumes have wider intercolumns between the columns to go along with a fair hand, often majuscule.

p. 119 While width of a column varied not a great deal, the heighth of a column could vary enormously… from 10.8 to 29.3 cm with most between 12-27. Interestingly, when we are talking about verse in the Oxy. Papyri they tend to be 16cm… and below. Dramatic texts tend to be the shortest in column height whether tragedy or comedy. From A.D. 100 and before 63% of such texts tend to have a shorter column 16cm or less.

p. 122— By the second century AD elegant prose also tended towards shorter column height.

p. 124— In regard to lines per column it varies a lot from 18 to 64 as the extremes, and most between 25 and 50 with poetry and elegant prose tending to have less lines per column.

p. 125-26— There is a regular correlation between narrow width and shorter height.

p. 128— “In sum, the papyri show the following tendencies: 1) a short column is almost always narrow and a large percentage of short, narrow columns are also written in fine scripts; 2) a tall column is usually wide (and is rarely written in a fine script)…” during the Roman period.

p. 129 Almost all examples where the width of the column is more than the height in cms would have been striking to ancient readers and almost all such examples are written in fine scripts. By contrast, tall and thin columns are associated with inelegant mss.

p. 134 Margins are difficult to estimate since so few ancient papyri have their original dimensions at top and bottom due to wear and tear. In general, bottom margins tended to be a little bigger than top ones, but mostly these are 3-5 cms anyway at the bottom, and 3-4 cms at the top so not huge.

p. 135 It has been often asserted that finer mss. tended to have bigger margins… and this conclusion seems largely correct.

p. 136 “…the largest margins do in fact tend to associate themselves with better-written manuscripts.”

p. 140 Shorter columns tend to prefer larger margins and taller columns prefer smaller margins. There is no basis for the assumption that finer mss. tend to be written on taller rolls. “…finer mss with short columns and large margins, resulting in rolls of unexceptional height.”

p. 141—Normal height of a roll seems to have varied between 25-33 cm for the most part in the Roman period.

p. 143-44—The length of a bookroll seems to have tended to depend on the length of the document copied— if a letter, then short, if a longish book like Homer, then long, sometimes involving several rolls. There’s not a lot of evidence of combining several substantial books into one lengthy roll, but there are examples of a collection of Demosthenes’ Phillipic speeches on a single roll. Multiple short prose works in a single role do exist in the 3rd century examples. Unlike with speeches, we do not find multiple plays on a single roll but you do find this with later codices.

As for length of the roll it varied between 3 meters and upwards of 11 meters. There is even one that is 23m long.

p. 146— “by far the majority of the longest examples are written in very fine scripts. Could it not be the case that longer works or books were sometimes subdivided, so as, for example, to accommodate the ample format of a deluxe copy…’book’ and ‘bookroll’ are only usually and not uniformly coextensive” When a book went on too long, a separate roll would be used. See Orosius (5th century A.D.) the end of his second book.

pp. 148-50— The full Illiad would require 19 meters in length with 108 columns. But rolls above 15m were abnormal and considered awkward and bulky it would appear. Kenyon thought 35 feet (10.7 m) was an upper limit, but he was wrong. The normal upper limit seems to have been closer to 15m with some examples exceeding that.

A roll of 15 meters would be about 9 cm rolled up. A 7.5 meter roll would roll up to a circumference of about the width of a soda pop can. A 20 meter roll would roll up into the size of a 2 liter container of Coke. For a scroll of 15 meters you would need 105 windings of the scroll! Obviously, the fatter the scroll gets the less windings needed so for example a scroll of 10 meters requires 85 windings. Again, in general a roll contained a single book, or a single volume of a larger work.

p. 151 Nothing in the data suggests a standard length roll. It would be as long as it needed to be, unless the size became too much, in which case another roll would be used. Nothing in the data suggests that a scribe regularly filled out a roll with other books or plays etc. though of course there are some rolls that have several speeches etc. Roll length was determined by knife. “That the roll length was not predetermined by a ‘standard’ would not seem to need such emphasis.”

See Pliny Ep. 120.4-5 for a preference for longer books… but also for a complaint about a roll too large to fit comfortably in the hands of a old person Ep. 2.1.4.

p. 152 Johnson moots the possibility that short books of Greek romantic novels were deliberately slim so as to match the look and feel of love poetry, and books of history were deliberately fat, so as to suggest the weightiness of the enterprise. When it comes to prose however the hard evidence does not suggest that scribes tended to treat different genre of prose works differently when it came to line length etc.

p. 155 Philosophical texts from Egypt did tend to conform to a particular set of conventions including being unique in the use of dicolon and a tendency toward pre-defined letter counts and width to height groupings.

p. 156 A typical deluxe edition will not look different from an ordinary one except in the fineness of the script and often the largeness of the letters (and perhaps of the paper quality). Other features sometimes found in deluxe editions are wide margins, and so a short height for columns and an excessively long roll for a large book. In other words aesthetics to please a wealthy reader seem to be guiding this sort of decision making by the scribe.

p. 88– “As for bookrolls, there is no hint that the book began life in any way except as a roll.” If one was writing a one page document, one would cut a piece off a roll.
Interestingly, when the columns are laid out on a roll, no attention is paid at all to where there are glue joints.

Pliny the Elder NH 13.78 talks about papyrus and its various grades and qualities. Pliny rates it on width, thinness, denseness, smoothness, whiteness.

Papyrus grades by width

Macrocollum— 44.4 cm
Claudian (after reform)—- 29.6 cm
Optimae chartae—- 24.1cm
Hieratic— 20.4 cm
Fannian—-18.5 cm
Ampitheatric—- 16.7cm
Emporitic—- 11.1cm
( the Oxy. Papyri for this study varied between 21cm and 23.7cm)

p. 91— “The scribe then generally picked up a roll of high (not highest) quality for a bookroll, and, even though he was aware, perhaps acutely, of the sheet joins, he viewed the space available for his design in terms of a roll, that is, as a white space, bounded by height, but virtually unbounded by width.” It is mundane documents and subliterary texts that tend to be written on inferior rolls. Scribes were picky and in the early Roman era there was a strong preference for a slightly forward tilt to the letters, and the lack of any tilt was anathema.

2015-03-13T23:04:49-04:00

Early Jesus-Devotion: Critical Engagement
by larryhurtado

In a recent comment, Sean Garrigan suggested that I provide pointers to some of the critical engagements that have been offered to my work on early Jesus-devotion, particularly in my book, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (Eerdmans, 2003). I’m thinking of preparing a fuller discussion for another occasion, so here I’ll simply give the bibliographical information on critiques and any responses from me.

One of the earliest scholars invited to respond to my book was Maurice Casey (Nottingham), an invited review-essay: Maurice Casey, “Lord Jesus Christ: A Response to Professor Hurtado,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 27, no. 1 (2004): 83-96. I was invited to give a response, which appeared in the same issue of the journal: Larry W. Hurtado, “Devotion to Jesus and Historical Investigation: A Grateful, Clarifying and Critical Response to Professor Casey,” JSNT 27, no. 1 (2004): 97-104.

Responding earlier, mainly to my book One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monotheism (Fortress, 1988; T&T Clark, 1998), Adela Yarbro Collins, “The Worship of Jesus and the Imperial Cult,” in The Jewish Roots of Christological Monotheism: Papers From the St. Andrews Conference on Teh Historical Origins of the Worship of Jesus, ed. Carey C. Newman, James R. Davila and Gladys S. Lewis (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 234-57. In her contribution to the Festschrift for Alan Segal and me, she entered a later critical response to my work: Adela Yarbro Collins, “‘How on Earth Did Jesus Become a God?’: A Reply,” in Israel’s God and Rebecca’s Children: Christology and Community in Early Judaism and Christianity, ed. David B. Capes et al. (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2007), 55-66. Essentially, Collins urges that ruler-worship may have been more of a factor than I judge. She grants that direct influence is most unlikely among devout Jews (such as those who made up the earliest circles of Jesus-followers), but proposes that perhaps there was some kind of unconscious influence, unreflectively disposing some devout Jews to accommodate the worship of Jesus alongside God.

I’m not persuaded. As I haven’t responded in print to Collins specifically, I’ll give a brief comment here. If pagan ruler-cult influence was as subtly influential on devout Jews as she suggests, shouldn’t we see more than one example of its alleged influence? Why is it that the “high” Jesus-devotion that we see erupted in the earliest circles of Jesus-followers seems to have no true analogy or parallel in the time? In fact, we know very well what devout Jews of the time thought of pagan ruler-cult and the deification of human heroes, and it’s not encouraging for a theory of the origins of Jesus-devotion!

The longest critical engagement that I know of, however, was this one: Crispin Fletcher-Louis, “A New Explanation of Christological Origins: A Review of the Work of Larry W. Hurtado.” Tyndale Bulletin 60, no. 2 (2009): 161-205. Again, I was invited to respond by the journal editor: L. W. Hurtado, “The Origins of Jesus-Devotion: A Response to Crispin Fletcher-Louis,” Tyndale Bulletin 61, no. 1 (2010): 1-20.

I’ve also commented on some alternative approaches in How on Earth did Jesus Become A God? (eerdmans, 2005), in the chapter entitled, “How on Earth Did Jesus Become a God? Approaches to Jesus-Devotion in Earliest Christianity,” pp. 13-30.

As I see things, here are the major findings that (with a number of others) I advocate:

1) A robust Jesus-devotion, in which Jesus was accorded unique status as agent of God’s purposes, and (most remarkably) became central in the devotional life of believers, erupted quickly and early. It’s beginnings are likely within the first months, certainly the first year or two, after Jesus’ execution.

2) The most notable and distinctive feature of this Jesus-devotion was the programmatic place and centrality of Jesus in the devotional/cultic practices of believers. In the Roman historical context, this remarkable mutation in Jewish devotional practice is in fact more noteworthy and significant than the rich and impressive christological beliefs that characterized earliest circles of Jesus-believers.

3) This “dyadic” devotional pattern (Jesus included with God as recipient of devotion) is without real precedent or analogy in its time. It constitutes a novel “mutation” in Jewish devotional practice. From as early as my 1988 book (One God, One Lord), I have specified the particulars of this devotional pattern (pp. 99-114), and a refutation of my position will require demonstration of similar devotional specifics in contemporary (or prior) circles of devout Jews. None has been provided to this date.

4) In its initial stages, this intense Jesus-devotion and the movement that promoted it comprise a distinctive development within the diverse second-temple Jewish tradition. There are obvious connections and also distinctives that mark the early Jesus-movement.

2017-08-01T15:14:45-04:00

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Incarnation is a big word, and sadly, not a lot of Christians either use it, or know what it means. It does not refer to the same thing as the virginal conception, though the latter is the means by which the incarnation of the Son of God took place. Incarnation refers to the choices and acts of a pre-existent divine being, namely the Son of God, that the Son took in order to become a human being. He took on flesh, and became fully, truly human without ceasing to be fully, truly divine. Divinity is not something Jesus acquired later in life, or even after his death and resurrection. According to the theology of Incarnation he had always been the divine Son of God, even before he became Jesus, a human being. Strictly speaking the name Jesus only applies to a human being. It is the name the Son of God acquired once he became a human being in the womb of Mary, a name which he maintains to this day as he continues to be a human being. We could continue to go down this track, and it would be like going down the rabbit hole with Alice. We would end up saying ‘curiouser and curiouser’. Incarnation is not something that human beings can fully get their mental calipers around. It involves miracle and mystery, and is frankly above our mental pay grade, even for the brightest amongst us. That doesn’t mean however that we can not understand it to some extent, and it is important that we do so. As John Donne once said ’twas much that we were made like God long before, but that God should be made like us, much more.’

When I try and explain the incarnation to my students I deliberately choose to use the phrase divine condescension. What do I mean by this? Put another way, if there is going to be a corporate merger between a divine being and a human nature, then the divine side of the equation must necessarily limit itself, take on certain limitations, in order to be truly and fully human. The next question is…. what does it mean to be fully human? It means to have limitations of time and space and knowledge and power, and of course being mortal. Jesus exhibited all these traits. He was even tempted like us in every respect, but he avoided sin. What we should deduce from this is sinning is not a necessary part of being truly human. Yes, it is a trait of all fallen humans, but no, it is not how God made us in the first place. It is not necessary to sin in order to be truly or fully human.

St. Paul, in a hymnic portion of Philippians describes the incarnation as follows:

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

6 Who, being in very nature[a] God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
7 rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature[b] of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
8 And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross!

9 Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
10 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
11 and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father. (NIV translation).

We could spend a lot of time unpacking this wonderful V patterned hymn but here we have time only to stress certain things. While the hymn is clear that the Son was ‘in very nature God’ at the same time he chose before he became human not to take advantage of his divine prerogatives. What were those? I call them the omnis– omniscience, omnipotence, omnipresence. Humans have none of these powers, though I have known a few megalomaniacs who thought they knew it all or had all power. What does it mean though for the Son to put all of that on hold, so to speak, to not draw on his omni-competencies?

It means, I take it, that while Jesus had a God button, and he could have pushed it when he got in a difficult situation, he refused to do so because it would have meant the end of his living a truly human life with all its inherent limitations. Look at the temptation scenes in Lk. 4 and Mt. 4. Now a moment’s reflection will show that these are no mere normal temptations. The Devil is saying ‘if you are the divine Son of God, then turn these stones into bread’. I have known some humans who could turn bread into stones, but not the reverse of that. Jesus, in other words, was tempted to act in such a way that he would obliterate his true humanity. And he refused to do so. Thus, for example when it says in Mk. 13.32 that even the Son doesn’t know the timing of the second coming, it means…. wait for it ‘the incarnate Son of God did not know’. Did he have access to such information? Yes, but he refused to draw on such knowledge. Notice as well that Jesus did not perform his miracles on the basis of his divinity. To the contrary he performed them by the power of the Holy Spirit as he says ‘if I by the Spirit of God cast out demons…’ And herein lies a key to why Paul can say ‘have this mind in yourselves that is also in Christ Jesus’.

When I was a child and Sunday school teachers used to say things like ‘be like Jesus’ there was an impish part of me that said ‘yeah right. Jesus had a God button to get him out of tight scrapes, me, not so much.’ And so I thought Paul was being hyperbolic, offering a nice homiletical flourish. I could hear Man of La Mancha’s theme, ‘To Dream the Impossible Dream’ playing in the background. Only Paul says it wasn’t really like that. Jesus resisted temptation using the same two resources we also have— the Spirit of God and the Word of God. You notice Jesus doesn’t say to the Devil ‘I’m God, God can’t be tempted’, ergo I am blowing you off and ignoring you.’ No, Jesus’ temptations were quite real, and he could have failed the tests. They were real because Jesus was truly and fully human. Not 90% divine and 10%, no he was 100% divine and 100% human. Jesus didn’t succumb to temptation, paradoxically by being truly human, by being Adam gone right, throughout his life.

Notice however that that is not all there is to this Christ hymn. It says not only that he stripped himself of his divine frequent flyer miles, but that he became a slave, a servant among humans— the socially lowest status person of all. One preacher once said about this Jesus became the lowest of the low, to show us that no one was beneath his dignity, that every human was worth saving, was of sacred worth. Amen to that. The main verbs in the first half of the hymn are active verbs— ‘he did not consider… rather he stripped himself… he took on… he was obedient (to God) even unto death on a cross’. But notice that the verbs become passive verbs in the second half of the hymn— therefore God has highly exalted him…. and God has given him a name above all names (which by the way is the name risen Lord, not Jesus. He already had the name Jesus. He acquired the name/title risen Lord at the resurrection).

And here I think is what Paul is driving at when he says ‘have this mind in yourselves that was also in Christ Jesus’. It says that he ‘humbled himself’. Now contrary to what the world may think humility has nothing to do with feelings of low self-esteem. It has nothing to do with feelings of low self-worth. If Jesus is the model of true humility, it can’t have anything to do with those things, because Jesus surely was the one person who walked this earth who did not have such feelings, did not have an identity crisis, and so on. Humility is the posture of a strong person who steps down to serve others, as Jesus did. It is interesting this participle ‘tapeinophrosune’. It means literally to be base minded or have the mind of a slave. This was no compliment in the Greco-Roman world. It was not anything a free person every wanted to have or do or be. Slavery was an ugly sinful blot on the ancient world. And yet, Jesus gave up his rights, and took on the form of a doulos… a slave. ‘Have this mind in yourself, which was also in Christ Jesus…’

We talk a lot about servant leadership, but you only rarely meet ministers who are actually prepared even to die for their flock. In so many cases in America the phrase servant leader is bandied about, but it has become an oxymoron— a contradiction in terms. What the Christ hymn in Phil. 2.5-11 tells us is that we should leave the exalting to God, just as Jesus did. Jesus was no glory grabber, he was a glory giver. Jesus was not all about himself, he sacrificed himself and came ‘not to be served, but to serve and give his life as a ransom for the many’ which is to say everyone other than himself. Jesus is the one person for whom Jesus did not need to die. Think of that.

Here in the Christmas season, there will be a lot of pious platitudes thrown around– Christmas is all about the F’s– family, food, fellowship, presents we give to ourselves. Well yes, those things have become part of Christmas, but they are certainly not the essence of the matter. In a strange twist of history St. Nicholas himself has been turned from a gaunt self-sacrificial loving person who served others into jolly old St. Nick… over weight, and the cosmic sugar daddy who fulfills all the dreams of our materialistic little American hearts. But at the heart of Incarnation is total self-sacrifice, total self-giving, becoming a servant of others for the sake of their redemption… and letting God do the glorifying and exalting, not human beings. When Christmas becomes about fulfilling our own narcissistic little dreams, it has become something antithetical to the real meaning of Incarnation.

This Christmas I remember especially our precious daughter Christy who loved giving away things, giving gifts at Christmas. She played Santa for us every Christmas, handing out gifts, but the truth was she was one of the greatest gifts God could ever give us. Almost everything else pales in comparison. Here she is….. giving things out….

Someday, when I grow up, I hope to be as good a person as Christy, if being as good a person as Christ is a little out of reach. But at least, I can cultivate the right mindset here at Christmas, that servant mindset. And so should we all.

2015-03-13T23:05:10-04:00

The annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, this year in Chicago, transpired under surprisingly sunny skies and mild and clement weather. Certainly a good time was had by many. As for me I gave a lecture at the Bible Fest sponsored by the Biblical Archaeology Society on 1 Corinthians 11 and women’s hair and headcoverings entitled ‘A Veiled Threat’, and also the keynote address at the IBR (Institute of Biblical Research), which got a spirited rebuttal from Professor Stan Porter of McMaster.

Below is the lecture itself (without of the footnotes), which I had only 40 minutes to deliver, so I simply gave highlights. See what you think.

‘ALMOST THOU PERSUADEST ME….’ THE IMPORTANCE OF GRECO-ROMAN RHETORIC FOR THE UNDERSTANDING OF THE TEXT AND CONTEXT OF THE NT

“It is time to bring the rhetoric of the apostle and rhetoric of his ancient interpreters together.”— Margaret Mitchell

Some adults have experience with texts but others do not. To the latter a document is just parchment and ink, not a means by which the living voice of an absent friend is known.— John Chrysostom Homily on 1 Cor. 7.2

Ben Witherington, III

I was marking a doctoral thesis for the Australian College of Theology recently with the title ‘Preaching the New Testament as Rhetoric’. It was a very fine thesis in many ways, the essence of which was that the text of the NT should be preached with full awareness of what this or that portion of a discourse was originally intended to do rhetorically. Thesis statements of discourses should be preached accordingly, arguments should be preached accordingly, perorations should be preached accordingly, complex rhetorical devices like impersonation in Romans 7 should be identified, explained, and then exposited on, and so on. Ethos, Logos, and Pathos in a discourse must be recognized and dealt with in light of its emotive intent and content. You get the picture.

In other words, this doctoral candidate realized it’s not enough to just recognize and have a nodding acquaintance with what I call the micro-rhetoric of the NT— rhetorical questions, the use of rhetorical hyperbole and the like. Not enough to just recognize the elements of style and literary figures in the NT. You need to know the species of rhetoric used, you need to know where in the argument you are with a particular rhetorical unit, you need to know whether this is an argument for something, or, as in the case of Rom. 9-11 or 2 Cor. 10-13 an argument against something. In other words, not merely for the understanding of the NT, but also for the proper preaching of the NT, you need to be conversant with Greco-Roman rhetoric, the sort you find in lots of places in the NT— particularly in Paul, Luke-Acts, Hebrews, 1 Peter, Jude and I could go on.

“But wait….” I hear a potential debater of this age say, wanting to engage in a rhetorical diatribe with me, “Surely, this is a bridge too far! Small rhetorical devices, fair enough. Recognizing them doesn’t much change the meaning of the text or affect the way I read it. Surely, it’s a bridge too far to argue that Paul or the author of Hebrews or Luke or other early Christians knew and used Greco-Roman rhetoric in detail. Weren’t the first followers of Jesus simple peasants, or fishermen with the smell of bait on their hands? Don’t epistolary conventions adequately explain the architectonic structures we find in, say, 1 Corinthians? Isn’t it over-egging the pudding (as the British would say), to claim that Greco-Roman rhetoric is an essential key to understanding the New Testament? Surely Witherington, ‘thou protesteth too much!’ After all, isn’t this just one more new faddish way to read the NT, and as we all know— “methodological fads come, and methodological fads go.”

Yes, I could compose a rather fulsome diatribe made up of the objections I have heard in the last twenty years to a detailed rhetorical or socio-rhetorical reading of the NT ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous. Time will not allow me to do so now, but we all know who have made and continue to make such arguments, and some of them are at this very IBR session today. If you want to see a representative summary of such arguments see the recent article by Stan Porter and Bryan Dyer in the most recent issue of JETS, though it focuses purely on the Pauline material.

My task this evening is to present to you with some reasons why, if this is indeed your view, you really ought to reconsider. The first portion of the lecture will be devoted to a ground-clearing exercise, in the second part of the lecture you may expect a positive presentation— in other words, preliminary considerations and ‘refutatio’ first, followed by ‘probatio’ second. Finally, as time allows, I will show in some more detail that even very complex rhetorical techniques are in play in the NT.

OBJECTION TO NEW FANGLED METHODS
Nobody likes to be told that the methods one has employed to study the Bible, low these many years, are inadequate, out-moded, short-sighted, or involve major oversights. Of course not. The older you get, the more ‘set in your ways’ you become. So when, someone comes along and says ‘you need to read Aristotle and Quintilian to understand the NT’ understandably there is going to be some push back.

One of the forms the objection takes is the time-honored rebuttal— “This is a new fangled method of interpretation. It does not have a proper long scholarly pedigree. My teachers didn’t use it. Their teachers didn’t use. I can safely ignore it and dismiss it.” If you have ever thought these thoughts or said these things about Greco-Roman rhetoric and the NT, perhaps it’s time for a major rethink and attitude adjustment. Actually this so-called new fangled method is quite old fashioned, as we shall see.

May I just quietly suggest here at the outset that, Part of the problem is the deficiencies of our own modern educations, not the deficiencies of Paul’s or Luke’s education. Most of us in this room, in all likelihood, have not had a classical education in addition to a Biblical one. The longer time has gone, the more I realized I was in a distinct minority among Biblical scholars in having done classics in junior high school, and high school and college, and then through a singular providence of God just happened to be attending the university where George Kennedy, among others, showed up, back at the dawn of time when the earth was still cooling— by which I mean at the beginning of the 1970s when I went to Carolina.

In regard to analyzing the NT on the basis of Greco-Roman rhetoric, let me be clear that this was already the practice of many of the Greek Church Fathers (e.g. Origen, Gregory, Basil and Chrysostom), the most able of which was John Chrysostom. As Margaret Mitchell has shown in great detail in her wonderful book The Heavenly Trumpet Chrysostom knew, and demonstrated over and over again that Paul’s letters were more profound rhetorical discourses than they were letters, and he preached them accordingly and very effectively, using rhetoric to do so. More recently she has shown at length how Gregory of Nyssa and others also interpreted Paul and other parts of the NT rhetorically. So much were early Greek speaking Christians familiar with and using rhetoric to teach the NT that Julian the Apostate had to ban Christians from teaching Greek grammar and rhetoric in the private or even public schools in A.D. 361-63 because he was afraid they would show their students the merits of the rhetoric in the NT! Margaret Mitchell in her most recent monograph stresses “the consistent usage of rhetorical terminology and techniques in patristic exegesis—by Alexandrines and Antiochians alike (and Carthaginians and Cappadocians and others)—has been abundantly documented”. Exactly right. Some NT scholars just haven’t kept up with the increasingly voluminous evidence on this score from classicists and patristics scholars.
In short, there is absolutely nothing ‘nouveau’ about the notion that the NT ought to be analyzed on the basis of Greco-Roman rhetoric. It is a time-honored practice that has produced remarkably helpful results for well over a thousand years. It pre-dates the historical critical method, including modern epistolary analysis, by over a thousand years. In short, whether you fancy form, source, textual, redactional, epistolary, historical, archaeological, reader-response, narratival, higher or lower criticism or some other recent –ism, all these methods are the new kids on the block. Not so historical rhetorical analysis of the NT.

It is an odd thing, that I personally have received the strongest push back against analyzing the NT in a rhetorical way by staunch defenders of Augustine and Luther and Calvin. I say odd because: 1) Augustine’s De Doctrina Christiana set the pattern for studying the NT in terms of Greco-Roman rhetoric for the Western Church, and he was followed in this by 2) Calvin and Luther, and 3) then Melanchthon produced full scale commentaries on the NT analyzing it in terms of its Greco-Roman rhetoric, and even wrote a handbook on classical rhetoric using the NT to illustrate said usage! In short, even in the Protestant tradition, and even in the Reformed and Lutheran traditions there is a very long precedent for analyzing the NT this way. And this brings us to another point raised in the aforementioned article by Porter and Dyer.

They lament that if I’m right that we need to read the NT in detail in light of Greco-Roman rhetoric, then we’ve been misreading the NT for a long period of time. Actually, this is a yes, and no proposition. Yes, most modern readers of the NT do not read the NT the way the Greek Fathers did, which is to say, in a rhetorically adept and informed way. I’m suggesting we should do so, at least as one important way of fruitfully reading the text.

What I am certainly not saying is that there is little that is helpful and little to learn from epistolary analysis of the NT or various other ways we analyze the NT based on the historical critical method. Me genoito!! What I am saying to those who simply plow any of those familiar historical critical furrows is, that you are simply missing an enormous amount of insights into the NT text, indeed essential clues to the meaning of various texts, by ignoring or dismissing historical rhetorical analysis of the NT. And when you ignore or overlook something that is major or essential, yes it leads to skewed interpretations some of the time. It leads to putting the emphasis on the wrong syllable, so to speak. So, it’s not a case of ‘I’m right, and Porter and Dyer are totally wrong’. I’m saying, that however helpful their methodology is, they are missing out on some essential insights into the NT text and its meanings, and who doesn’t want to more fully and better understand the NT text?

IT’S NOT HISTORICALLY PLAUSIBLE
Perhaps however, your real issue with analyzing the NT on the basis of Greco-Roman rhetoric comes from your analysis of the historical Sitz im Leben of the earliest Christians. The argument goes something like this. ‘Not many of the earliest Christians were among the social elites of society. This means not many of them got what one might call a higher education. After all, none of the writers of the NT go around wearing Tarsus U. T-shirts and bragging about their educational pedigree and prowess. Since they did not have a ‘higher’ education, they would not have known the full taxonomy of Greco-Roman rhetoric and would not have used it anyway, as they were mostly Jews, drawing on the OT for their polemics and arguments’. There are all sorts of historical problems with this analysis of the social situation of early Christians, and I will have to be satisfied with listing some of the more salient ones:

1) From a historical point of view, Hellenization, complete with language immersion and Greek culture had influenced the entire Biblical world, including Galilee and the Roman province of Judaea, for many centuries by the time the very first NT document was written. Martin Hengel demonstrated this a long time ago, and it does not need to be rehearsed here. He even demonstrated that there were schools of Greek rhetoric in Jerusalem in Paul’s day! There is a good reason the whole NT is written in Greek. It was the lingua franca of the Roman Empire, the language that most everyone knew, and knew they needed to know, just as today English is the overwhelmingly dominant language of the Internet.
Language is the gateway into a culture. It is the doorway into an education.
In the NT we have 27 books all of which were originally written in Greek, and all of which reflect not merely Greek diction, but Greek ideas, Greek culture, Greek influence of various sorts, including the influence of Greco-Roman rhetoric. This in no way is meant to deny the obvious Jewish and OT influences as well. To use a trope— the hands are the hands of Virgil, but the voice is the voice of Jacob. Jacob, however, has learned some Greek ways along the way, though of course it’s ‘not all Greek to him’.

2) The notion that early Christianity was led by a bunch of illiterate Jewish peasants is an historical myth. It may seem a pleasant fiction to Dom Crossan and others, but it is a myth. The statement in Acts 4.13 is not claiming that Peter and John were ‘illiterate’. The Greek says they were agrammatoi kai idiotai, which does not mean they were illiterate idiots. It means that they had not studied with the scribes in Jerusalem, nor had an education there. It means they were not ‘initiated’ into the learned ways of those in the Sanhedrin, and thus were not ‘insiders’. Whatever education they had gotten, it had been gotten in Galilee. This does not make them illiterate peasants. What we see here is the typical snobbery of the Jerusalem elites.

I take seriously however the fact that Papias tells us that Peter preferred to teach in Aramaic, and that Mark had to render some of his teachings into Greek in his Gospel. Peter needed help to produce good persuasive Greek discourse in writing. I believe he got it from the likes of Silvanus and Mark. In the former case the help of Silvanus must have been considerable, as 1 Peter reflects Greco-Roman rhetoric in detail. As Papias goes on to add, even Mark felt a need to form his pithy narratives in the form of rhetorical chreia so they would be persuasive.

3) In regard to ancient education in Greek, several points need to be made. Firstly, there were schools and teachers of rhetoric all over the Empire, including some of the more famous rhetoricians right in and around Galilee. Josephus the historian, Theodorus the rhetorician, Meleager the poet, and Philodemus the philosopher all hailed from Galilee and got their training in the Holy Land. Both the ‘grammateus’ and the ‘rhetor’ were teachers and both taught rhetoric and taught rhetorically.

No one who has spent any considerable period of time in Sepphoris and seen the mixture of Jewish piety with Greco-Roman art, architecture, astrological practices, educational practices and the like can doubt that even Galilee was a mixed-language, mixed-cultural milieu where Greek was regularly used. The Greek inscriptions side by side with Hebrew and Aramaic ones in places like Capernaum, Migdal, and Chorazim are clear testimony to the mixed language, mixed cultural nature of the Galilee. If we believe that Jesus actually had private conversations with centurions or even with Pilate, the language that would have been used was surely Greek, though of course Jesus’ and Peter’s dominant spoken language was Aramaic.

My point is this—no significant place in the Roman Empire had escaped the influence of Hellenization, Greek culture and rhetoric, and this includes Galilee and Samaria. Take for example the case of Justin Martyr born around or a bit before 100 A.D. at Flavia Neapolis (ancient Shechem, modern Nablus) in Samaria of Greek parents. He was brought up with a good education in rhetoric, poetry, and history. This he got in Samaria and Galilee. Martin Hengel puts the matter this way: “Judaea, Samaria, and Galilee were bilingual (or better trilingual) areas. While Aramaic was the vernacular of ordinary people, and Hebrew the sacred language of religious worship and of scribal discussion, Greek had largely been established as the linguistic medium for trade, commerce and administration.” It was also the language for those wanting to ‘get ahead’ in life through close association with the elites, such as the Herods, or even the Temple elites in Jerusalem.

4) Rhetorical education began at what we would call the primary school level. It is already present in the progymnasmata, as even a cursory reading of Kennedy on the Progymnasmata (SBL 2003) or Ron Hock and Ed O’ Neil’s fine book The Chreia and Ancient Rhetoric (SBL 2002) will show. When Theon in the first century A.D. began to teach letter writing to his students who were studying the progymnasmata he told them— ‘compose these fictional letters as a rhetorical exercise and in the form of what is called prosopopoiia’.
Furthermore, classics scholars have shown that even brief letters by a Pliny, or a Seneca reflect the structure— proposition, an objection, an argument, and a peroratio, (see Pliny’s Ep. 1.11 and 2.6 and the 13th-15th Epistula morales of Seneca). But long before them, we have the clear example of Demosthenes’ First Epistle that is arranged as a deliberative discourse would be, as J.A. Goldstein long ago demonstrated. My own colleague Fred Long has more recently provided us with a plethora of examples of forensic speeches in epistolary form. If we are talking about later Christian letters Basil’s consolatory rhetoric in letters (Epistle 5, Epistle 6) consists of proem, encomium, and some exhortation with concluding prayers. Here the article of Porter and Dyer overlooks much of the actual historical evidence and precedents of letters in rhetorical form from before, during, and after NT times. It would not take years of study to become adept at rhetorical composition using an epistolary framework. There are clear precedents from during and before the NT era.

We will say more about prosopopoiia at the end of this lecture, if there is time, when we examine how Paul uses it in Romans 7, but we have already noted how this rhetorical technique is even introduced at the beginning of rhetorical training. In any case, you didn’t need to have a higher education to know basic Greco-Roman rhetoric. You could compose rhetorically shaped letters even after an elementary education. And you didn’t necessarily need to have a formal rhetorical education at all to recognize and appreciate the art. Why not?

5) As Duane Litfin rightly said a good while ago , the Roman Empire was a rhetoric-saturated realm. It was in the education, in public speeches, in the inscriptions, in the Imperial propaganda, and we could go on. Litfin goes on to rightly stress that most of the Greek-speaking persons in the Empire were either producers or avid consumers of rhetoric. There were even rhetoric and poetry contests at the games throughout the Empire. It was a spectator sport in the first century A.D.

If early Christianity really was an evangelistic religion wanting to persuade a Greek-speaking world about the odd notion that a crucified manual worker from Nazareth rose from the dead and was King of kings and Lord of lords, this was going to take some serious ‘persuasion’ and the chief tool in the arsenal of all well known persuaders, orators, rhetoricians in the Greco-Roman world was rhetoric. This was especially so if, as seems likely, the Christian evangelists like Paul had an urban strategy, seeking to begin evangelism in the major cities of the Empire, which is to say the very places where education and rhetoric were most in evidence in the Empire.

6) As Edwin Judge has demonstrated over and over again, large portions of early Christianity, particularly the more Gentile portions were led by several rather remarkably gifted and indeed well-educated persons— persons like Paul, Apollos, Luke, and others. The culture was largely an oral culture, not a culture of texts, and since preaching was going to be the main modus operandi for the spread of the Good News, it needed to be Greek preaching that would persuade various target audiences. The obvious tool was Greco-Roman rhetoric.

There is a reason why Luke in Acts says absolutely nothing about Paul being a letter writer. This is because it was an entirely secondary and surrogate means of communicating the Gospel in the first century, even when it comes to Paul. Indeed, letters were used to convey the messages Paul would have spoken directly to his converts had he been present. They are simply part of a total communication effort that took ‘the living voice’ as primary, and texts as secondary. ‘ [read the intro quote from Chrysostom here]. It is not an accident that the phrase ‘Word of God’ in the NT never once refers to a text— rather it refers to the oral proclamation of the Gospel in Acts and in Paul (see e.g. 1 Thess. 2.13) and in Hebrews, and to a living person (Jesus) in John and Revelation.

7) What about the attempt to point to the book trade as evidence that texts were widespread and there was a considerable culture of texts in the NT world? Porter and Dyer ignore the evidence amassed by William Johnson and other classics scholars who have studied the ancient book trade at length. This was a trade supported by and catering to the Roman elites. It was definitely not a trade that supplied any significant number of ordinary people with all sorts of texts such as the lengthy documents we find in the NT. To use the book trade as an argument for widespread texts or texts being in the possession of a large number of ancient persons, or even as an argument against the largely oral character of the Biblical world, is a dog that just won’t hunt if you actually examine the origins of the book trade in the first century A.D., its audience and its character.

The attempt to minimize the cost of preparing ancient manuscripts of the sort of length we find often in the NT does not work either. Galen is clear enough that only a wealthy person could afford to collect or have real books (not brief business contracts or telegraphic missives). He says to a wealthy friend “I see that you cannot bring yourself to spend your wealth…on the purchase and preparation of books, nor on the training of scribes, whether in shorthand ability or in fine and accurate writing, nor even on lectors who read well…” (de. An. Aff. Dign. Et Cur. 5.48). Notice the taxonomy here— it takes wealth to afford to produce books, to hire scribes, and perhaps most importantly to hire readers. Why would you need a lector if you are functionally literate? Because in most all settings, including in ancient libraries, people read out loud as Johnson demonstrates and a lector had the skills to do it in a rhetorically effective manner, whether in a church meeting or as the after dinner reader or rhetor at a symposium.

William Johnson’s book Readers and Reading Culture in the High Roman Empire, should be required reading for all students of the NT letters. What it shows is that the book trade was just beginning to grow in the first century A.D. and overwhelmingly it served the elites and wealthy of the Empire, not ordinary persons, which is to say, it did not serve many in the early Christian audiences. They were served by hearing NT documents, not primarily by reading them as mute texts.

Notice the distinction in Rev. 1.1-4 between the person who reads out the document (a ‘reader’ in the singular) and those who hear it. The vast majority of texts in antiquity, especially the longer ones written in ‘scriptio continua’ were and had to be read out loud to be made sense of as they lacked separation of words, sentences, paragraphs, and yea verily they had no chapters and verses. These were oral texts. The way you decipher them is by reading them out loud. [display here texts from powerpoint] Consider for example the report Justin Martyr gives us about an early Christian meeting in his day—

On the day called Sunday, all who lived in the cities or in the country
gather together, to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles
or the writings of the prophets are read aloud, as long as time permits,
then when the reader has ceased, the President verbally instructs
and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. (First Apology 65)

Notice the clear distinctions made in this report— there is a reader, a lector, who reads the memoirs of the apostles out loud, there are those from the cities or countryside who gather together to hear him do so, and then there is a different person ‘the presiding official’ who exhorts after the reading. This of course is just like the procedure in the synagogue only in this case the apostolic writings, are treated just like the OT prophets— as a sacred text to be read aloud to the community.

8) Sometimes there has also been push-back against the Greco-Roman rhetorical analysis of the NT on the basis of 1 Corinthians 1-2 to this effect— ‘Paul says he is not going to use lofty words or wisdom but the foolishness of preaching to convict, convince, and convert persons in Corinth and elsewhere. Ergo, he must be renouncing the use of rhetoric’. There are now of course detailed studies of this very text that demonstrate beyond reasonable doubt that Paul is not renouncing Greco-Roman rhetoric. What he is renouncing is sophistry, sophistic rhetoric ‘full of sound and fury but signifying nothing’. Read Bruce Winter’s detailed study Are Paul and Philo among the Sophists on the first batch of sophists and their effect on rhetoric in the first century A.D., or for that matter read my Conflict and Community in Corinth. Margaret Mitchell puts it this way: “[O]ur wordsmith would recast his initial visit using the customary rhetor’s topos: no real wizard with words, indeed (like Demosthenes) trembling in his sandals and out of his natural element…And yet, despite the anti-rhetorical rhetoric, it was inescapably a verbal proclamation, a ‘logos’ and a ‘kerygma’”. In short, Paul is using rhetoric to refute the notion that he was a purveyor of mere verbal eloquence. That is all.

Peter Lampe puts it this way, in discussing this oft-misunderstood passage—“Thus Paul does not rebuff any rhetorical art in general, but the one that specifically tries to invoke pistis in Christ by means of bedazzling and seductive rhetoric.” This is precisely what Paul himself says in 1 Thess. 2.5 using the same terms to critique sophistry as was used earlier by the followers of Plato and Aristotle who themselves used substantive rhetoric to make their points (see Plato Gorgias 463B). The critique of a specific sort of superficial verbal pyro-techniques is intended to clear the way for accepting and understanding more serious rhetoric. It is not an example of rejecting rhetoric altogether (see also Seneca Ep. 45.5;49.5-6;111).

9) Perhaps the most frequent objection I hear to the notion that the NT, and particularly the letters, should be read in light of Greco-Roman rhetoric is that “these documents are letters and conform to the pre-existing epistolary conventions”. Most of us received training to that effect along the way in our Biblical education. But when one actually examines what was the historical educational situation in the Empire in and even before the first century A.D. it becomes clear that epistolary analysis cannot be the sole or even the primary tool for analyzing these documents for a whole variety of reasons. Let me be clear. Yes I think epistolary analysis of the letters of the NT is important. No, it’s not as important as rhetorical analysis of these documents, if the goal is to understand the character and form of these documents between their opening and closing epistolary elements. We should have heeded the blunt remarks of Cicero on this front who stresses that a letter [of the sort we are discussing] is in effect “a speech in written medium” (ad Atticum 8.14.1; cf. Pseudo-Demetrius De elocutione 223).

Note that I do not say epistolary analysis is inappropriate or irrelevant. I am simply saying that: 1) it should not be the dominant much less the sole literary way we analyze these documents; and 2) epistolary conventions and forms are not what shapes the vast majority of these documents which are rightly called letters. In other words, even the letters in the NT are more shaped by rhetorical than by epistolary conventions. In any case, we must bear in mind that pseudo-Libanius’ epistolary handbook dates to the 4th century A.D. and as for pseudo-Demetrius, it may come from the latter half of the first century, but we have no evidence it was widely used by tutors and schools in that era, in contrast to the teaching of rhetoric.

10) As an aside, I must mention that some of the documents we have identified as NT letters do not appear to be letters at all. For example 1 John is a rhetorical sermon or homily. It has no epistolary features at all—even at the beginning or end of the document. Hebrews is a sermon, which has an epistolary conclusion because it is sent from a distance. But if we ask what is really shaping this document’s structure, it is not epistolary conventions or structures. I could go on and on, but this is enough to show that the usual objections to finding rhetoric in the NT in detail do not stand up to close historical scrutiny. They just don’t.

11) By the same token the actual NT evidence does not support mainly treating these NT letters as like the private communications of Cicero to Atticus. To take but one example, Philemon is a deeply personal discourse, but it is in no way private—written to Philemon, his family, and ‘the church which meets in his house’. What we have in the NT, almost without exception are communications composed for groups of people meant to be read out loud to groups of people (the Pastorals and 3 John being possible exceptions). They are not documents meant for private individuals to quietly read at their leisure, and as such they are not much like the vast majority of ancient letters on papyri we know about.
Chris Forbes rightly concludes “Paul’s congregational letters…are a remarkably isolated phenomenon in their cultural context. This is true both at a purely literary level and in terms of the social context that generated them….Paul’s letters were not written to be read, but to be performed. As such they function as speeches, as rhetoric, every bit as much as they function as conventional letters.” Recently Craig Keener sent me the following references:
Cf. Epict. Diatr. 1.1: starts “Arrian to Lucius Gellius,” and then introduces the discourses.
–Cf. the history, 2 Macc 1:1-6—epistolary prescript for a historical work. 2 Macabees 1:1-2:32, prologue; esp 1:1—specifically epistolary.
–Aune, Literary Environment, p. 240: Rev is the only apocalypse “framed by epistolary conventions, for the pseudonymity of other apocalypses would necessitate a fictional receiver as well as sender.”
–Cf. Cicero Brutus 2.11 (LCL pp. 24f): Cicero tells Atticus that his presence “lightens my care, and when absent too you afforded me great solace. For your letters first restored my spirits” (LCL p. 25 note c—these “letters,” litteris, are really “treatises dedicated to Cicero”).

12) Here it may be useful to point out one final red herring. Sometimes you will hear the opponents of rhetorical analysis of the NT, particularly the letters, say something like this: “If you read the various scholarly rhetorical analyses of these documents when it comes to species or invention or arrangement, there is no consensus of opinion even on a document as short as Philippians. Some say it’s epideictic, some say its deliberative, and the particulars of the rhetorical arguments or units are analyzed variously.” While there is some truth to this (though over time there has been more and more of a consensus about Philippians or Hebrews or Galatians), I would simply point out that there is no consensus about epistolary analysis of these documents either!

Where the prescript begins, what the function of the greeting or the body middle is, where the postscript starts, what the function of the signature is— frankly there are as many opinions on these things among scholars on any given letter, as there are about the rhetoric of these same documents. In short, lack of clear scholarly consensus about the arrangement of the rhetoric or its species in a given case is no argument against rhetorical analysis of the document any more than a lack of consensus about the epistolary analysis is. It has been well said that if you put five scholars in a room six opinions emerge on any given subject. Yea verily.

PROBATIO— THE CASE FOR RHETORICAL ANALYSIS OF THE NT

A few basic reminders about ancient education are in order at this juncture. There are now numerous studies about education in the Biblical world that make clear beyond reasonable doubt that rhetoric was an essential part of education at all three levels, all over the Empire. There were no schools of letter writing in Paul’s day, but there were both schools of rhetoric and rhetoric in more general schools. When one learned from even an individual tutor or a grammateus, rhetoric was part of the basic education, particularly for males who would have to speak in various public settings and forums and needed to know how to do it effectively. Rhetoric had been a part of education from the time of Aristotle, whereas the writing of what came to be called letter essays, letters with extended profound philosophical or theological content in Greek or Latin was mostly a much more recent practice in the Roman world, dating to the time of Cicero.

It is true enough that by the time we get past the NT era into the second and third and fourth centuries we begin to have letter-writing handbooks by pseudo-Libanius and others. Notice however that letter writing is not yet a staple, broadly-used, part of any education in the Empire during the time when these NT documents were being written. It was a discipline in the process of being developed during the NT age. The later detailed taxonomy of pseudo—Libanius in which he parses out numerous different types of letters (ambassadorial, friendly etc.) does not seem to have yet existed in the First Century A.D. Therefore, use of such detailed epistolary taxonomies runs the danger of clear anachronism. Reading into the text of later categories.

The chief help that knowing about ancient letter writing gives us in analyzing the NT is in discussing the epistolary prescripts and greetings and postscripts of the NT letters. That is all. So far as I can see, there was no epistolary convention to offer a thanksgiving or blessing prayer at the beginning of an ancient letter. I have read a lot of ancient letters and they do occasionally include a health wish at some juncture, but that is not a thanksgiving or blessing prayer or prayer report either in length or in character. And as for the amazing range of arguments that show up in the Pauline corpus and elsewhere in NT letters after opening pleasantries, epistolary conventions help us with them hardly at all. In other words, we get little or no help in analyzing the bulk of the material in NT letters on the basis of ancient epistolary forms and practices. It is striking to me that almost all the typical formulae pointed out in NT letters by various NT scholars as stereotypical epistolary ways to introduce a new topic (e.g. ‘I want you to know…’ or ‘I appeal to you…’) are in fact discussed by Quintilian as classic ways to introduce rhetorical topoi in discourses (see Inst. 4.2.22)! I would simply remind you that there was no ancient epistolary category called ‘the body middle’ introduced by such formulae. There just wasn’t.

One of the things we have to do from time to time is unlearn some things, in light of further evidence. We need to unlearn some of things we were told was true about NT letters in form critical studies and manuals and books and monographs. We need to unlearn them because the NT writers were mostly not writing according to those sorts of later conventions. We need to unlearn them because they are anachronistic and not all that helpful in studying the NT in its original historical contexts, including its rhetorical context.

Re-reading some of the things I was taught at Harvard and Durham and Princeton and elsewhere about Formgeschichte I now shake my head and realize I have to leave them behind, or place them under the heading— ‘not so much’. If we really believe ‘a text without a context is just a pretext for whatever we want it to mean’ then a premium must be placed on reading the NT with as little anachronism as possible, reading it in a historically responsible way. Why would we not listen to Papias when he tells us that Mark composed his Gospel according to the rhetorical form known as the ‘chreia’? Sometimes we do not listen because we do not have ears trained to hear the rhetorical overtones.

The documents we have in the NT were primarily meant to be heard, not to be studied as written texts. These are oral texts. No, the phrase ‘oral text’ is not an oxymoron, like, say, the phrase Microsoft Works. Neither Jesus nor the writers of the NT insist– ‘let those with two good eyes, read this’. Most eyes could not read in the NT era according to even the most generous of literacy studies of antiquity. And even the two references in the NT to ‘a reader’ (singular) in Mk. 13.14 or in Rev. 1.3 distinguish between the ‘reader’ (in this case the lector who read it out loud to the congregation) and the hearers. Listen again to Rev. 1.3— ‘ blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of the prophecy and also blessed are those who hear…’

This is one of the primary reasons finding gigantic chiasms in the letters of the NT simply doesn’t work. Big chiasms have to be seen. You can’t pick them out by listening to a linear reading out of a document. Yes an A,B.B,A structure can be aurally discerned if it spans a few verses. The alert ear can pick that out. But frankly Grand Canyon-sized chiasms (or is it chasms?) like one reads about in Ken Bailey’s recent Paul through Mediterranean Eyes tell us far more about the considerable creativity of Ken Bailey than about Paul’s letter to the Corinthians. Giant chiasms are like beauty— they are in the eyes of the beholder. Not so with rhetorical structures in the NT documents. Listen to Duane Watson’s word of caution on this matter:

The chiasm has rightly been seen as structuring individual verses and blocks of texts. However I doubt that chiasm structures entire Pauline epistles (as has been argued for Philippians) especially if it is concluded that Greco-Roman conventions have played a significant role in their construction. Greco-Roman rhetoric did not discuss chiasm and certainly not as an organizing principle of larger works. Besides, the conventions in play for invention and arrangement make chiasm a very difficult form of arrangement to maintain. Greco-Roman rhetoric, as it is incorporated into a speech or a document, is based on a linear unfolding of a series of topics and propositions guided by the exigencies of a rhetorical situation. This approach makes a chiastic arrangement for an entire epistle extremely difficult and unlikely.

Exactly right. But we could have come to the same conclusion simply on the basis that these are oral and aural discourses, meant to be heard by all, not primarily meant to be read except by the lector and a few well-educated Christians in the audience. These were oral texts that HAD, in the first instance, to be read out loud to make sense of where thoughts and sentences and rhetorical units started and stopped. I would suggest this is why Paul entrusted his letters to trustworthy co-workers like a Timothy or Titus or Phoebe, who already knew the contents of the letter they would deliver upon arriving somewhere. And by ‘deliver’ I mean not merely hand over to the literate in a church, but orally deliver upon arrival, just as a herald would read out an ambassadorial letter to the recipients upon arrival.

It helped if a document was composed on the basis of a basic structure of a Greek speech— exordium, narratio, propositio, probatio, refutatio, peroratio. It helped because people already knew this basic Greek speech structure all over the Empire. They knew how to listen for the thesis statement, listen for the final summing up, brace themselves for the ‘sturm und drang’ of a peroration like we find in Ephesians 6. They could listen with anticipation. They knew that most discourses (i.e. the non-epideictic ones) would involve both arguments for and against some key theme or thesis or theses. Even those who could not read a discourse had heard so many of them that they regularly could pick out the parts, and knew what to anticipate, in the same way a child who hears a story today that begins ‘once upon a time…’ can well expect that before they fall asleep they will hear ‘and they all lived happily ever after’ by nodding off time.

Our problem is that we have studied these NT documents as if they were indeed like modern texts. We’ve studied them in the first instance primarily in English. And yet a third of the rhetorical force of a Greek discourse is lost in translation—all the assonance, alliteration, rhyme, rhythm and a host of other oral and aural effects are lost to us unless we have very clever translators indeed.

The recent detailed studies about how ancient manuscripts were composed (see H. Gamble and L. Hurtado), how the book trade arose (see William A. Johnson), and what the characteristics were of an ancient oral culture where literacy at best was about 20% in some quarters, need to inform the way we read the NT. So, I will say again, the NT is full of oral documents. And when we analyze them as oral documents (meant to be read out loud and heard), the light begins to dawn that they are also most profoundly, rhetorical documents, meant to persuade persons about Jesus Christ, meant to preach. Here the Good News friends— the NT is already preacher friendly and preaching ready. It is not merely the basis for the preaching— it contains the preaching or persuasion!

MACRO RHETORIC REVISITED
Since the proof of the pudding is in the eating, it is now time to demonstrate the macro-rhetoric of the NT in some detail. Let’s start with the issue of ethos, logos, and pathos. Any good rhetorical discourse, whether it was deliberative, forensic, or epideictic had to attend to the issues of ethos, logos, and pathos. This was not an issue of micro-rhetoric here or there, but of the macro-structure of the discourse. At the outset of a discourse the issues of authority, establishing rapport with the audience, and attention to what could be called the more surface emotions needed to be attended to. This was in turn followed by a series of arguments (if we have deliberative or forensic rhetoric), or a series of illustrations or displays of things praiseworthy or blameworthy (if we have epideictic rhetoric). All three species of rhetoric concluded with a final harangue, which could involve a summing up of previous arguments, an appeal to the final argument, and in any case the arousing of the deeper emotions such as love and hate. This threefold pattern can be readily found in Paul’s letters, in Hebrews, in 1 Peter, and elsewhere in the NT. It can also be found in the speech summaries in Acts which Luke reports.

A few points of elucidation are crucial. Firstly, as scholars have often noted for reasons they did not fully grasp, Paul in his opening prayers often uses them as a preview of coming attractions in the following letter. Themes that will be played out and dealt with in what follows are mentioned in passing, up front, in these thanksgiving or blessing prayer reports. Why?

It was not an epistolary convention to offer such extended prayers at the beginning of a letter, much less to use them as an occasion to thank the deity for things that would later be discussed or even critiqued at length in the discourse. This is not an epistolary convention at all. A bare perfunctory health wish (‘trust you are well’) is not the same thing as these prayer reports.

IT IS however a rhetorical convention to both establish rapport with the audience at the outset, and while doing that, intimate what the following arguments will in part be about. In other words, Paul is using these prayer reports as exordiums coming as they do normally just after the opening prescript and greeting. Let’s take an example from 1 Corinthians.
I always thank my God for you because of his grace given you in Christ Jesus. 5 For in him you have been enriched in every way—with all kinds of speech and with all knowledge — 6 God thus confirming our testimony about Christ among you. 7 Therefore you do not lack any spiritual gift as you eagerly wait for our Lord Jesus Christ to be revealed. 8 He will also keep you firm to the end, so that you will be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9 God is faithful, who has called you into fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.
What you notice immediately about this if you already know what’s coming in 1 Cor. 12-14 is that Paul is mentioning some of the very things that are causing the most problems in Corinth— namely their abundant speech and knowledge gifts which they are using in unloving ways. My students call this the sucking up part of the discourse. Paul praises them for the very things they are most enamored with, but which are giving Paul ‘agita’, as the Italians would say. The exordium is meant to function this way, establishing rapport so the audience will be well disposed to hear what follows. Paul is a master at accomplishing this even in a largely problem solving discourse like 1 Corinthians.
What follows this is: 1) the thesis statement in vs. 10, and 2) the brief narration of facts relevant to the following arguments. Again, there was no epistolary convention to state a thesis or proposition and then narrate some pertinent facts. This is a rhetorical convention. And yes, there was some flexibility in how one arranged these things.

Epideictic rhetoric did not require a proposition (and we do not have one in Ephesians) nor a narration of pertinent facts, but these were very important in forensic rhetoric and deliberative rhetoric, though it was fine if the thesis statement came after the narration or before it. The architectonic structure of a speech had some flexibility, and it was also o.k. to mix rhetoric— so for example we have an epideictic interlude in 1 Corinthians 13 in the midst of a basically deliberative discourse. All these things are explained in great detail in the rhetorical handbooks, and Quintilian’s helpful summary of Greek and Latin rhetoric offered towards the end of the first century A.D. shows how these conventions could be used and had evolved over time.

Furthermore, we are increasingly having detailed comparisons done between actual ancient rhetorical speeches and what we find in the NT, not relying just on information from the rhetorical handbooks. Margaret Mitchell set the benchmark for this sort of survey in her doctoral dissertation published in 1991. Fred Long has produced copious evidence on this score. To give but one further example, I have a doctoral student comparing the consolatory rhetoric of 1 Thessalonians, an epideictic discourse, with ancient funeral orations. The results that he is producing are very fruitful in helping us see exactly what Paul is trying to achieve in 1 Thessalonians.

That there are arguments in many of the NT letters, few scholars would dispute. It is not just Paul who was disputatious among the NT writers. What is less well known is that the arguments in, say, Romans are arranged in a particular rhetorical way. In Romans Paul uses the rhetorical method known as ‘insinuatio’. He realizes that the bone of contention in Rome is Jews, Jewish Christians, and among other things the place of Israel in God’s larger salvific plans.

The wise rhetorician will then delay dealing with the bone of contention until he has established not merely rapport, but considerable common ground with the audience so they will listen patiently to the more difficult arguments. Romans 9-11, far from an after-thought, is Paul coming to the point of refuting certain erroneous assumptions about Israel, about its future, about whether Jews have been abandoned by God and replaced by Gentiles, about whether God keeps his promises or not. Romans is a powerful discourse from stem to stern about the righteousness and justice of God and the setting right of human beings, a theme enunciated in the proposition in Romans 1.16-17.

We could walk through the letters of the NT, one after another, and I could point out not merely the rhetorical devices but the varieties of macro-rhetoric used in each case, but I have already done this in a whole series of commentaries, and I see no need to belabor the point here. Lest however we think that rhetoric is only occasionally helpful here and there in the NT in understanding the structure of the discourse, and particularly with Paul and Hebrews and 1 Peter, and Jude etc., I would like to stress that rhetoric helps us in another way as well, in dealing with the big question of why, for example, the language, grammar, syntax of discourses like Ephesians and Colossians differs significantly from Paul’s earlier letters.

We could have avoided dealing with all of those long and lugubrious arguments about how those two letters couldn’t possibly be by Paul because they sound different, have different sentence structures, use different vocabulary and so on had someone paid attention to the fact that these letters are written according to the style of Asiatic rhetoric, the most verbose and hyperbolic form of first century rhetoric. This was entirely appropriate since Paul was writing to the very region where such a rhetorical style was most popular and had originated—- the province of Asia. Paul as a skillful rhetorician was able to vary his style according the audience, and he does so in these documents. Twenty-six line long sentences with lots of adjectives and even some redundancies are no problem in Asiatic rhetoric, as anyone who has read the verbose Nimrud dag stele, in praise of a ruler, will know. As Luke Johnson has said in various of his commentaries, changing of style was a common rhetorical tactic to be persuasive to differing audiences. It’s not a matter of different authors. It’s a matter of flexibility in rhetoric.

Just how well some of the NT writers knew Greco-Roman rhetoric could be demonstrated at length by various samples—- say the famous Hall of Faith epideictic display in Hebrews 11, or the parade example of epideictic the appeal to the virtue of love in 1 Cor. 13, but I want to talk about the ability of someone like Paul to use complex rhetorical figures and techniques such as ‘impersonation’ where one speaks in the voice of another person. The more one studies the NT, the clearer it becomes that various of the NT writers knew rhetoric extremely well and in detail, and were not afraid to use it at length.

As for brother Paul, it will be well here to pass on the conclusions of others. In his seminal essay on Paul’s rhetorical education, and after examining Paul’s use of diatribe, apostrophe, and prosopopoiia especially in Romans, Stan Stowers concluded as follows: 1) Paul had instruction from a grammaticus; 2) he had further study in letter writing and elementary rhetoric, and 3) this included progymnasmatic exercises. Coming at it from the angle of social location, J. Neyrey’s study of Paul’s style and rhetorical finesse concluded that Paul had a tertiary level education that included both rhetorical and philosophical training. Ron Hock came to the very same conclusion based on his examination of Paul’s use of invention and arrangement in the undisputed Paulines. It is time for us to give the apostle to the Gentiles his rhetorical due, not least because it affects the way we interpret a great deal of what Paul says in his rhetorical letters.

RHETORIC ON FULL DISPLAY
Romans 7 demonstrates not only Paul’s considerable skill with rhetoric, but his penchant for using even its most complex devices and techniques. This text proves beyond a reasonable doubt that Paul did not use rhetoric in some purely superficial or sparing way (e.g. using rhetorical questions). To the contrary the very warp and woof of his argument here reflects, and indeed requires an understanding of, sophisticated rhetorical techniques to make sense of the content of this passage and the way it attempts to persuade the Roman audience.

‘Impersonation’, or prosopopoiia, is a rhetorical technique which falls under the heading of figures of speech and is often used to illustrate or make vivid a piece of deliberative rhetoric (Inst. Or. 3.8.49 cf. Theon, Progymnasta 8). This rhetorical technique involves the assumption of a role, and sometimes the role would be marked off from its surrounding discourse by a change in tone or inflection or accent or form of delivery, or an introductory formula signaling a change in voice. Sometimes the speech would simply be inserted “without mentioning the speaker at all” (9.2.37). Unfortunately for us, we did not get to hear Paul’s discourse delivered in its original oral setting, as was Paul’s intent. It is not surprising then that many have not picked up the signals that impersonation is happening in Rom. 7.7-13 and also for that matter in 7.14-25.1

Quintilian says impersonation “is sometimes introduced even with controversial themes, which are drawn from history and involve the appearance of definite historical characters as pleaders” (3.8.52). In this case Adam is the historical figure being impersonated in Rom. 7.7-13, and the theme is most certainly controversial and drawn from history. Indeed, Paul has introduced this theme already in Rom. 5.12-21, and one must bear in mind that this discourse would have been heard seriatim, which means they would have heard about Adam only a few minutes before hearing the material in Rom. 7.

The most important requirement for a speech in character in the form of impersonation is that the speech be fitting, suiting the situation and character of the one speaking. “For a speech that is out of keeping with the man who delivers it is just as faulty as a speech which fails to suit the subject to which it should conform.” (3.8.51). The ability to pull off a convincing impersonation is considered by Quintilian to reflect the highest skill in rhetoric, for it is often the most difficult thing to do (3.8.49). That Paul attempts it, tells us something about Paul as a rhetorician. This rhetorical technique also involves personification, sometimes of abstract qualities (like fame or virtue, or in Paul’s case sin or grace– 9.2.36). Quintilian also informs us that impersonation may take the form of a dialogue or speech, but it can also take the form of a first person narrative (9.2.37).

Of course since the important work of W.G. Kűmmel on Rom. 7, it has become a commonplace, perhaps even a majority opinion in some NT circles that the “I” of Romans 7 is not autobiographical.2 This however still did not tell us what sort of literary or rhetorical use of “I” we do find in Rom. 7. As S. Stowers points out, it is also no new opinion that what is going on in Rom. 7 is the rhetorical technique known as ‘impersonation’.3 In fact, this is how some of the earliest Greek commentators on Romans, such as Origen, took this portion of the letter, and later commentators such as Jerome and Rufinus take note of this approach of Origen’s.4 Not only so, Didymus of Alexandria and Nilus of Ancyra also saw Paul using the form of speech in character or impersonation here.5
The point to be noted here is that we are talking about Church Fathers who not only know Greek well but who understand the use of rhetoric and believed Paul is certainly availing himself of rhetorical devices here.6 Even more importantly, there is John Chrysostom (Homily 13 on Romans) who was very much in touch with the rhetorical nature and the theological substance of Paul’s letters. He also does not think that Romans 7 is about Christians, much less about Paul himself as a Christian. He takes it to be talking about: 1) those who lived before the Law; 2) and those who lived outside the Law or lived under it. In other words, it is about Gentiles and Jews outside of Christ.

But I would want to stress that since the vast majority of Paul’s audience is Gentile, and Paul has as part of his rhetorical aims effecting some reconciliation between Jewish and Gentile Christians in Rome7, it would be singularly inept for Paul here to retell the story of Israel in a negative way, and then turn around in Rom. 9-11 and try and get Gentiles to appreciate their Jewish heritage in Christ, and to be understanding of Jews and their fellow Jewish Christians. No, Paul tells a more universal tale here of the progenitor of all humankind, and then the story of all those ‘in Adam’, not focusing specifically on those ‘in Israel’ that are within the Adamic category.8 Even in Rom. 7.14-25, Paul can be seen to be mainly echoing his discussion of Gentiles in Rom. 2.15 who had the ‘Law’ within and struggled over its demands.9

What are the markers or indicators in the text of Rom. 7.7-13 that the most probable way to read this text, the way Paul desired for it to be heard, is in the light of the story of Adam, with Adam speaking of his own experience?34 Firstly, from the beginning of the passage in vs. 7 there is reference to one specific commandment– ‘thou shalt not covet/desire’. This is the tenth commandment in an abbreviated form (cf. Ex. 20.17; Deut. 5.21). Some early Jewish exegesis of Gen. 3 suggested that the sin committed by Adam and Eve was a violation of the tenth commandment.35 They coveted the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

Secondly, one must ask oneself, who in Biblical history was only under one commandment, and one about coveting? The answer is Adam.36 Vs. 8 refers to a commandment (singular). This can hardly be a reference to the Mosaic Law in general, which Paul regularly speaks of as a collective entity. Thirdly, vs. 9 says ‘I was living once without/apart from the Law’. The only person said in the Bible to be living before or without any law was Adam.

Fourthly, as numerous commentators have regularly noticed, Sin is personified in this text, especially in vs. 11 as if it were like the snake in the garden. Paul says ‘Sin took opportunity through the commandment to deceive me’. This matches up well with the story about the snake using the commandment to deceive Eve and Adam in the garden. Notice too how the very same verb is used to speak of this deception in 2 Cor. 11.3 and also 1 Tim. 2.14. We know of course that physical death was said to be part of the punishment for this sin, but there was also the matter of spiritual death, due to alienation from God, and it is perhaps the latter that Paul has in view in this text.

Fifthly, notice how in vs. 7 Paul says I did not know sin except through the commandment. This condition would only properly be the case with Adam, especially if ‘know’ in this text means having personal experience of sin (cf. vs. 5). As we know from various earlier texts in Romans, Paul believes that all after Adam have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory. The discussion in Rom. 5.12-21 seems to be presupposed here. It is however possible to take egnon to mean ‘recognize’— I did not recognize sin for what it was except through the existence of the commandment. If this is the point, then it comports with what Paul has already said about the Law turning sin into trespass, sin being revealed as a violation of God’s will for humankind. But on the whole it seems more likely that Paul is describing Adam’s awakening consciousness of the possibility of sin when the first commandment was given. All in all, the most satisfactory explanation of these verses is if we see Paul the Christian re-reading the story of Adam here, in the light of his Christian views about law and the Law.39

Certainly one of the functions of this subsection of Romans is do something of an apologia for the Law. Paul is asking, is then the Law something evil because it not only reveals sin, but has the unintended effect of suggesting sins to commit to a human being? Is the Law’s association with sin and death then a sign that the Law itself is a sinful or wicked thing? Paul’s response is of course ‘absolutely not’! Vs. 7 suggests a parallel between egnon and ‘know desire’ which suggests Paul has in view the experience of sin by this knower. Vs. 8 says sin takes the Law as the starting point or opportunity to produce in the knower all sorts of evil desires.40

Stowers reads this part of the discussion in light of Greco-Roman discussions about desire and the mastery of desire, which may have been one of the things this discourse prompted in the largely Gentile audience.41 But the story of Adam seems to be to the fore here. The basic argument here is how sin used a good thing, the Law, to create evil desires in Adam.

It is important to recognize that in Rom. 5-6 Paul had already established that all humans are ‘in Adam’, and all have sinned like him. Furthermore, Paul has spoken of the desires that plagued his largely Gentile audience prior to their conversions. The discussion here then just further links even the Gentile portion of the audience to Adam and his experience. They are to recognize themselves in this story, as the children of Adam who also have had desires, have sinned, and have died. The way Paul will illuminate the parallels will be seen in Rom. 7.14-25 which I take to be a description of all those in Adam and outside of Christ.43

Paul then is providing a narrative in Rom. 7.7-25 of the story of Adam from the past in vss. 7-13, and the story of all those in Adam in the present in vss. 14-25. In a sense what is happening here is an expansion on what Paul has already argued in Rom. 5.12-21. There is a continuity in the “I” in Romans 7 by virtue of the close link between Adam and all those in Adam. The story of Adam is also the prototype of the story of Christ, and it is only when the person is delivered from the body of death, it is only when a person transfers from the story of Adam into the story of Christ, that one can leave Adam and his story behind, no longer being in bondage to sin, and being empowered to resist temptation, walk in newness of life, as will be described in Rom. 8. Christ starts the race of humanity over again, setting it right and in a new direction, delivering it from the bondage of sin, death, and the Law. It is not a surprise that Christ only enters the picture at the very end of the argument in Rom. 7, in preparation for Rom. 8, using the rhetorical technique of overlapping the end of one argument with the beginning of another.44

Some have seen vs 9b as a problem for the Adam view of vss. 7-13 because the verb must be translated ‘renewed’ or ‘live anew’. But notice the contrast between ‘I was living’ in vs. 9a with ‘but Sin coming to life’ in vs 9b. Cranfield then is right to urge that the meaning of the verb in question in vs. 9b must be “sprang to life” 45 The snake/sin was lifeless until it had an opportunity to victimize some innocent victim, and had the means, namely the commandment, to do so. Sin deceived and spiritually killed the first founder of the human race. This is nearly a quotation from Gen. 3.13. One of the important corollaries of recognizing that Rom. 7.7-13 is about Adam (and 7.14-25 is about those in Adam, and outside Christ), is that it becomes clear that Paul is not specifically critiquing Judaism or Jews here, any more than he is in Rom. 7.14-25.

Vs. 12 begins with hoste which should be translated ‘so then’ introducing Paul’s conclusion about the Law that Paul has been driving toward. The commandment and for that matter the whole Law is holy, just, and good. It did not in itself produce sin or death in the founder of the human race. Rather sin/the serpent/ Satan used the commandment to that end. Good things, things from God, can be used for evil purposes by those with evil intent. The exceeding sinfulness of sin is revealed in that it will even use a good thing to produce an evil end– death. This was not the intended end or purpose of the Law. The death of Adam was not a matter of his being killed with kindness or by something good. Vs. 13 is emphatic. The Law, a good thing, did not kill Adam. But sin was indeed revealed to be sin by the Law and it produced death This argument prepares the way for the discussion of the legacy of Adam for those who are outside of Christ. The present tense verbs reflect the ongoing legacy for those who are still in Adam and not in Christ. Rom. 7.14-25 should not be seen as a further argument, but as the last stage of a four part argument which began in Rom. 6 being grounded in Rom. 512-21, and will climax Paul’s discussion about sin, death, and the Law and their various effects on humankind.

It will not be necessary for us to go into as much depth with Rom. 7.14-25 as we have with the tale of Adam in 7.7-13. Rather we will focus on the points of rhetorical significance that should have guided the interpretation of this text all along. Firstly, once it is realized that there is a fictive ‘I’ being used in 7.7-13, to create a ‘speech in character’ then it requires a change of rhetorical signals at 7.14 or thereafter if that were to cease to be the case in 7.14-25. We have no such compelling evidence that Paul is now using ‘I’ in a non-fictive way in these verses now under scrutiny. There is, it is true, a change in the tenses of the main verbs, here we have present tenses, signaling that Paul is talking about something that is now true of someone or some group of persons, but it must be some group that has an integral connection with the ‘I’ of 7.7-13.

Fortunately Paul had already set up such a link in Rom. 5.12-21, in particular at the outset of that synkrisis or rhetorical comparison—one man sinned and death came to all people, but not just because he sinned but also because they all sinned. The link has been forged, and we see here how it is played out as Adam’s tale in 7.7-13 leads directly to the tale of all those who are in Adam in 7.14-25. Kasemann puts the matter aptly: “Egō [here] means [hu]mankind under the shadow of Adam: hence it does not embrace Christian existence in its ongoing temptation…What is being said here is already over for the Christian according to ch. 6 and ch. 8. The apostle is not even describing the content of his own experience of conversion.” This comports completely with Rom. 7.5-6 where Paul contrasts what the audience once was before they became Christians, and what they are now— free in Christ. It comports as well with what Paul stresses in Rom. 8.1-2 where he tells us that the Spirit has already set the believer free from the law of sin and death.

It is telling that most of the Church Fathers thought as well that Paul was adopting and adapting the persona of an unregenerate person, not describing his own struggles as a Christian. Most of them believed that conversion would deliver a person from the dilemma describe here, deliver them from the bondage to sin or the law of sin and death, as Rom. 8.1-2 puts it. But what about the reference to the struggle with the ‘law of the mind’ here? Does not that suggest a person, perhaps a Jew, under the yoke of the Mosaic Law? While not an impossible interpretation of the struggle described here, there is a better and more likely view if we are attentive to the rhetorical signals of the whole document. In Rom. 2.15 Paul is quite explicit that Gentiles not beholden to the Mosaic covenant or its Law, nonetheless have the generic law of God written on their very hearts, and therefore they do from time to time do what God requires of them.

Notice that the struggle described in Rom. 7.14-25 is between a law residing in one’s mind, and a quite different ruling principle residing in one’s ‘flesh’ or sinful inclinations. Nothing is said here about rebellion against a known external law code, nor is the book of the Law nor Moses mentioned here. Remember too, that it was said that even Adam himself had a singular commandment of God to deal with, well before Moses, such that when Adam violated that one commandment sin and death reigned from Adam to Moses, even prior to the existence of the Mosaic code (Rom. 5.14). Notice the difference between Rom. 7.14-25 and debates in Rom. 2-3 with the Jewish teacher over the meaning of the external Law code.

It is thus most likely that we have here a more generic description of the condition of those who are in Adam, and are fighting but losing the battle with sin in their lives. The only way out of their dilemma is deliverance. Paul is speaking as broadly as he can in this passage, addressing the human plight outside of Christ in general, and is not singling out Jews for special attention here. That would have been rhetorically inept in any case since the great majority of his audience for Romans is likely Gentiles (see Rom. 11.13).
We must bear in mind as well, that we are dealing with a Christian interpretation of a pre-Christian condition. Paul does not assume that this is how either Gentiles or Jews themselves would view the matter if they were not also Christians. But clearly Gentiles could relate to this discussion. For example, Ovid, in his famous work Metamorphoses 7.19-20 speaks in very similar terms of the struggle with sin: “Desire persuades me one way, reason another. I see the better and approve it, but I follow the worse.” Even closer is the words of Epictetus—“What I wish, I do not do, and what I do not wish, I do.” (2.26.4). Paul has not traipsed into terra incognita for his largely Gentile audience, rather he is standing on familiar ground. The effect of law, law of any sort, on a fallen human being, whether the law of the heart, or the law in a code, is predictably the same, in Paul’s view.
In the earlier parts of Romans, and especially in Rom. 2-3, Paul was resorting to the rhetorical device of the diatribe—a rhetorical debate with an imaginary interlocutor. Rom. 7.7-25 has just a taste of that at Rom. 7.25a where Paul himself, in his own and most pastoral voice responds to the heart cry of the lost person—“Who will deliver me from this body of dead?” His answer is swift and powerful—“Thanks be to God – through Jesus Christ our Lord!” What was lost on Luther is that the voice in vs. 25a is not the same voice as the one which preceded it, or indeed which follows it in 25b. What was lost on Augustine is that this is not Pauline autobiography however well it may have suited Augustine. It is to Augustine and Luther that we owe being led down the wrong garden path in the interpretation of this text, and in some cases led to a wrong view altogether of Pauline anthropology.

At the end of Romans 7, Paul is following a well known rhetorical technique called chain-link, or interlocking construction, which has now been described in detail, with full illustration of its use in the NT by Bruce Longenecker. The basic way this technique works is that one briefly introduces the theme of the next argument or part of one’s rhetorical argument, just before one concludes the argument one is presently laying out. Thus in this case Rom. 7.25a is the introduction to Rom. 8.1 and following where Paul will once more speak in his own voice in the first person. Quintilian is quite specific about the need to use such a technique in a complex argument of many parts. He says that this sort of close-knit ABAB structure is effective when one must speak with pathos, force, energy, pugnacity (Inst. Or. 9.4.129-30). He adds “We may compare its motion to that of men, who link hands to stead their steps, and lend each other their mutual support” (9.4.129). Failure to recognize this rhetorical device where one introduces the next argument before concluding the previous one, has led to all sorts of misreadings of Rom. 7.14-25.

As Longenecker goes on to stress, this reading of Rom. 7.25a comports completely with the thrust of what has come immediately before Rom. 7.7-25 and what comes immediately thereafter. He puts it this way: “Paul has taken great care to signal the transition from Romans 7 to Romans 8: first by contrasting the ‘fleshly then’ and the ‘spiritual now’ in 7.5-6 two verses which provide the structural foundation for the movement from 7.7ff. and 8.1ff., and second, by introducing the ‘spiritual now’ in 8.1 with the emphatic ‘therefore now’ (ara nun). Such structural indicators are strengthened further by the intentional inclusion of a thematic overlap in 7.25….Since in Paul’s day chain-link construction was not an uncommon transitional device in assisting an audience…the placement of 7.25 within its surrounding context would not have been unusual or confusing. It would not have been seen as a structural anomaly requiring either textual reconstruction…or psychological explanation. Instead it would have been seen as a transition marker used for the benefit of Paul’s audience.” As an aside it is worth saying that Origen offers this same sort of analysis on Romans 7 as ‘impersonation’ back in hoary antiquity.

In short, if Paul can go to these sorts of lengths to use rhetorical conventions to convict and persuade a Roman audience that he has not even met, we may be sure that it is a mistake to under-estimate what was rhetorically possible for Paul and other writers of the NT. Not all of them had Paul’s skills and finesse. But almost all of them had some knowledge and made some use of not just micro-rhetoric but also macro-rhetoric, and it is high time we were in more agreement with Origen and Chrysostom and Jerome and Melanchthon and others on this score.

AND SO??
What I have sought to show in this lecture is that one ignores Greco-Roman rhetoric at one’s peril if one wants to understand the NT. It is not enough to have a nodding acquaintance with minor rhetorical devices and how they work, say the negative rhetorical questions at the end of 1 Cor. 12 all of which require the response no. (‘Not all speak in tongues, do they? Not all prophesy do they?). If you want to understand how Paul’s arguments work (why he appeals, for example, first to experience, then to Scripture then to customs and traditions in that order in both Gal. 3 and 1 Cor. 11), why they are arranged as they are, or why there is so much redundancy (i.e. amplification) in 1 John, or why there is so little future eschatology in Ephesians (its epideictic rhetoric— the focus is on what can be praised in the present), or why the Pastoral Epistles have been wrongly called disjointed ethical snippets (answer—because Dibelius and his followers failed to notice what we have is enthymemes in the Pastorals, and you have to supply the missing member of the syllogism), or why the so-called pronouncement stories in Mark are really classic rhetorical chreia, as Papias said in the first place, or why Luke’s prologue in Lk. 1.1-4 takes the form it does, or why the speeches in Acts take the rhetorical forms they do, or why ‘synkrisis’ is used so eloquently and powerfully in Hebrews, then its time to give rhetoric its due. And it’s time for me to use the rhetorical trope the author of Hebrews uses in Hebrews 13 when he says ‘In conclusion, I have spoken to you briefly…..’

In Paul’s famous rhetorical tour de force speech in Acts 26, given before Agrippa and Festus, there comes a juncture where Festus interrupts and exclaims: “You are out of your mind. Too much learning is driving you insane.” I thank you for not interrupting this ‘brief’ lecture with that interjection this evening. ☺ In closing, I rather hope instead you will reply along the lines of King Agrippa— “almost thou persuadest me to become a Christian” or in this case “a Christian rhetorician.” Thank you very much.

2015-03-13T23:05:43-04:00

The technical label fictive kinship is one a person frequently encounters in sociological literature when one is talking about a group that talks to and about each other as if they were family when in fact they are not physical kin. My problem with applying this technical phrase to the ‘family of faith’ language we find in the NT, is that it appears to me that Paul and others really believe there is such a thing as a spiritual kinship involved for those who are a part of the body of Christ (to use another metaphor). In other words, we are not talking about a fiction, legal or otherwise. We are talking about a different sort of reality than physical kinship. Whatever we think about this issue, there can be no doubt that the brother and sister language tells us significant things about the earliest Christians and how they viewed and talked about themselves.

As Trebilco shows, of the some 271 occurrences of the brother language used metaphorically of fellow believers (both male and female) only 2 NT books don’t reflect this usage— Jude, and oddly, Titus. It is used both at a term of address and also as a designation. Like most of these labels there is a background or pre-history to their usage. Not only is this terminology found occasionally in the Greco-Roman world (see Epictetus Dia. 1.13.4) it is found rather frequently in the LXX of fellow Israelite believers (see Deut. 3.18; 15.2-12;22.1-4 etc.). Of course in the NT, the term basically does not mean fellow Israelite, it means fellow follower of Christ, so without question we see the basic sectarian nature of early Christianity. Only it’s in group of people who believe in Christ are called brothers or sisters. Not all Jews in general.

One of the things that makes this interesting and significant is that siblings in the Greco-Roman world were regularly seen to be the closest of family kin, and so now the terminology is used to refer to the closeness of believing kin. Plutarch for example has a whole treatise on brotherly love as the most significant kind of love (see Frat. Amor. 480B). While adelphe is sometimes used by Paul (Rom. 16.1,1 Cor. 7.15; 9.4-5; Philemon 2) most often adelphos is used and used inclusively of both genders, though sometimes ‘brothers’ is used as a term to address just males (1 Thess. 4.3-8). One can sometimes tell something about the level of intimacy between an author and an audience by the frequency of the use of this language. So, for example brother language is very frequent in 1 Thessalonians, but less so in Romans, when Paul is writing to a congregation that he did not convert. On the other hand, sometimes the terminology is used to good rhetorical effect to apply a certain amount of pressure on the audience to behave like family (see Romans 14-15).

Trebilco is aware of and agrees with the notion that ultimately it is Jesus’ own use of this sort of language with his disciples (Mk. 3.31-35) that probably helped spawn the use of it by the earliest Christians after Easter. Their is a radicality in the use of this language rightly pointed to by Trebilco, quoting John Barclay….”Family members who broke with ancestral traditions on the basis of their new-found faith showed an appalling lack of concern for their familial responsibilities. Christians deserted ancestral practices [e.g. like burying family members], passed on since time immemorial for a novel religion ….The exclusivity of the Christian religion–their arrogant refusal to take part in,or to consider valid, the worship of any God but their own–deeply wounded public sensibilities.” (p. 43).

Trebilco is able to demonstrate that the use of this sort of language likely goes back to the earliest period of Christianity, even before Paul wrote his letters, a fact not surprising since Jesus (and the OT) had provided precedent for such usage. What is new of course, is that when Gentiles became followers of Jesus, it became clear that the term ‘brother’ no longer had an implied ethnic component. This made the usage different than what one finds in the OT. Luke demonstrates the transition from using it just of Jewish Christians (those ethnically Jewish), to using it of Gentile Christ followers in Acts 15…. perhaps hinting that the Jersalem council played a role with its decrees in the broadening of the usage to include Gentile Christians (see Trebilco p. 53). Trebilco concludes that the high freqquency of the use of this language right across the NT (with the two noted exceptions) testifies to one of the distinctive and distinguishing features of early Christianity— their powerful experience of community as a new family, which set them apart from other religious groups, and indeed from other concepts of family. (p. 66)

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