d. Deliverance and Jailer’s Conversion (16:25–34)
d. Deliverance and Jailer’s Conversion (16:25–34)
When the missionaries worship God in the face of their suffering, God vindicates them after their public humiliation. Although this vindication does not lead to the conversion of Philippi, it is sufficient to persuade the chief jailer to embrace their message. Thus their mission in resistant Philippi reaches beyond a foreign woman God-fearer’s household to an entirely pagan household, the father of whom had some civil responsibility (likely a Philippian citizen, though he may be a public slave, as noted above). Although, in fact, some other individuals in the city had already been converted (cf. Acts 16:40), Luke focuses on the most graphic scene that makes the best story.
I. WORSHIP AT MIDNIGHT (16:25)
If all the prisoners were confined to the inner cell (or even nearby) for the night, they could not help but hear the missionaries singing. Such midnight singing would be considered unusual, but it could cite biblical precedent and would appear honorable to Luke’s audience. Despite the apparently small results (contrast later 19:10–20) and the suffering so far, Paul and Silas continue to believe that God has led them here (cf. 16:9–10). In fact, it is even possible that they worship God not only in but for their sufferings, as a faithful expression of confidence in God’s love and sovereignty (cf. Eph 5:20). Although Luke does not state it, Paul may have connected suffering with proclamation as a necessary corollary (cf. Acts 14:22); certainly, it was to be expected with it (4:25; 5:41).[1949]
(1) The Inner Cell
Luke claims that the other prisoners were listening to Paul and Silas, which suggests that they were nearby. Two other factors further indicate that the jailer was probably keeping all the prisoners in the inner cell, at least overnight: First, Paul is later able to attest that all the prisoners remained inside (16:28), though he was in the inner cell (16:24) and it was unlit (16:29). Second, other sources indicate that prisoners were sometimes held in the inner cell, especially for security reasons, overnight.[1950] Prisons’ overcrowding often led to unbearable heat (though this concern would be more relevant during the day);[1951] this would be most problematic in the inner cell. “Poor ventilation created conditions of dangerously stale air” as well as “suffocating heat and dehydration.”[1952] Such conditions, naturally, bred sickness as well.[1953]
This inner prison would be especially crowded if the jailer secured all prisoners there at night to keep them more secure (see comment on Acts 16:25). We cannot know how many prisoners the city would be keeping there (since prison was not most often intended as a punishment per se but as detention until trial or, in extreme cases, execution,[1954] and Philippi was much smaller than Rome). But we need not assume that such prisons could accommodate only small numbers; in one story, a prison (apparently for higher-class prisoners, since they were unchained) reportedly held about fifty prisoners.[1955]
Until the regulations of Constantine, women were imprisoned in the same cells as men; this, predictably, often led to their sexual abuse.[1956] Although it is possible that both men and women could be among the prisoners here,[1957] male prisoners were far more common (see comment on Acts 8:3), and so we cannot say whether women were present.
(2) Sleepless Nights
Midnight (or other expressions suggesting the middle of the night) was normally a time for sleep,[1958] though there were exceptions.[1959] One would normally awaken another at midnight only for urgent reasons (Luke 11:5).[1960] Clearly Paul did not observe such conventional limitations, speaking God’s message at midnight (Acts 20:7; contrast Luke 22:45). It might also be significant that the clearest biblical account of a deliverance from captivity took place at midnight (Exod 11:4; 12:29; Philo Mos. 1.135; cf. Acts 27:27).[1961] Midnight probably also suggests how long Paul and Silas have endured their condition: hearings usually took place in the morning, so they may have been beaten as many as twelve hours earlier.[1962]
The missionaries’ wounds alone might make sleep difficult, and their circumstances would have only made it worse; this would not have been the only “sleepless night” of Paul’s ministry (2 Cor 11:27).[1963] Nocturnal sleeping would be difficult in a crowded jail, especially if all prisoners had been secured in the inner cell for the night.[1964] Often prisoners had to sleep on the floor, using their outer cloaks as a cover[1965] (though probably many of the poorest people were in this situation, a practice not limited to prisons).[1966]
The stocks (Acts 16:24) would also make sleep difficult; one might need to sit up or lie on the floor all night.[1967] For Paul and Silas, their wounds may have also made brave singing easier than sleep.[1968] Given the foul odors, noises of others in close quarters, and other difficulties of nocturnal conditions (as well as lack of incentives to stay awake by day), many prisoners might have been awake anyway, which would have aroused less animosity toward the singing.[1969] Perhaps they, like the repentant thief on the cross (Luke 23:41), respected these men of God (their character demonstrated by their resilience and worship) who had not shared their presumed crimes.[1970]
(3) Midnight Worship
Praising God at midnight had biblical precedent (Ps 119:62);[1971] apparently, shifts of Levites worshiped God day and night (1 Chr 9:33); “songs in the night” could signify joy (Job 35:10; Pss 42:8; 77:6; Isa 30:29), and a person in need might pray continually (Pss 22:2; 77:2; 88:1).[1972] The psalmist’s mention of singing at midnight (119:62) immediately follows his mention of being put in bonds (119:61). Even if the church recited psalms in worship and hence was intensely familiar with the Psalter, Luke probably would not expect his audience to catch the connection and may not have seen it himself.
We encounter this connection between bonds and midnight singing, however, in the context of the “we” narrative, and it was probably available to Luke shortly after the events described. It is possible that Paul or Silas, comparing their situation to Ps 119:61 (though many other verses depicted similar situations), deliberately followed 119:62 as an act of obedience. Elsewhere Jewish people might praise God throughout the night for a recent deliverance (Philo Flacc. 122).
More certainly and critically, worship follows suffering here as prayer follows it in Acts 4:23–30 and joy follows it in 5:41 and in Jesus’s instructions in Luke 6:23. Similarly, an earthquake follows worship here as the shaking of a place follows prayer in Acts 4:31. Following the example of their Lord (Luke 22:42, 51; 23:34, 43, 46), they submitted to evil treatment, so embracing the cross and depending on God for vindication.[1973] In this case, vindication (in the form of an earthquake and the subsequent humiliation of the city officials) comes quickly, as it did with Jesus’s resurrection. Luke does not tell us the emotional state of the missionaries during and immediately after their beating,[1974] but by this point they appear ready to trust God with a mission they believe God initiated (cf. Acts 16:9–10).
Other texts report singing in prison as a sign of fortitude or faith.[1975] Ancient moralists praised courageous philosophers, such as Socrates, who suffered condemnation willingly (e.g., Max. Tyre 3.2; 12.10).[1976] (Using wakefulness for Torah study would have pleased rabbis,[1977] and presumably worship would have as well.) A sage and his disciple might be portrayed as encouraging the other prisoners (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 7.22).[1978] Giving thanks in all situations fits the epistolary Paul’s theology (1 Thess 5:18; cf. Eph 5:20; cf. the more traditional Jewish formulation in Jas 5:13),[1979] as do continual rejoicing (Phil 4:4) and taking courage in hardship (Rom 5:3–5; cf. 8:37). If Paul praised God in the way that this passage depicts, his later appeals to Philippian Christians to rejoice and thank God despite hardship (Phil 4:6; cf. 3:1; 4:4) may be informed by his past as well as present (1:18; 2:17) example. At the same time, it is clear historically that Paul also experienced discouragement, at least temporarily and sometimes longer, during setbacks for the mission (2 Cor 4:8; 7:5–6; 11:28–29; 1 Thess 3:5).[1980]
Paul’s courage described here also fits ideal Stoic sages, however (as Paul would himself have also recognized), and hence would further Luke’s favorable portrayal of Paul for his more educated Diaspora hearers.[1981] The ideal wise person should thank God for any circumstance that enters his life (Epict. Diatr. 4.7.9).[1982] Virtue should be enough to keep the ideal wise man happy;[1983] the goal was serenity and remaining calm in all situations.[1984] A truly wise person will not care about being imprisoned or beheaded (1.29.22–29); neither imprisonment nor death was truly a bad thing (4.1.133). A prison was only a prison to someone who was forced there involuntarily; Socrates was not in prison, because he stayed there voluntarily (1.12.23).[1985] Such sentiments were not limited to Stoics; even Epicurus insisted that a wise man should be happy even on the rack (Diog. Laert. 10.118).[1986] Jewish pietists believed that God would reward the righteous who, though suffering, blessed God (1 En. 108:10; see comment on Acts 5:41).
That the missionaries were singing “hymns” might, though not necessarily, mean that they were singing traditional songs they already knew; early Christian hymns could also include spontaneous compositions through the Spirit (cf. 1 Cor 14:15, 26; 1 Chr 25:3).[1987] One prototypical model was David, composer of many hymns.[1988] The Levites in the temple “hymned” God (2 Chr 29:30; 1 Esd 5:59–60; Neh 12:24), as did God’s people at God’s house (1 Esd 5:62), after winning a battle (1 Macc 4:24; 2 Macc 10:38; Jdt 15:13) or at another celebration (e.g., Wis 10:20; Jos. Ant. 7.80; Philo Mos. 1.180; Flacc. 122).[1989] A philosopher opined that one ought to spend all one’s time “hymning” and praising God for one’s circumstances, which were gifts of grace (Epict. Diatr. 1.16.15).
We are not told the other prisoners’ feelings toward midnight singing, but Luke reports that they were listening (Acts 16:25; cf. the spiritual effect of “listening” in 16:14; Luke 10:39; 15:1) and seems to imply that Paul and Silas had some spiritual effect on them (cf. none fleeing in Acts 16:28).[1990] As during the later shipwreck (27:21, 31–32, 43) and on Malta (28:6–10), Paul is able to assume a leadership position in difficult circumstances; here he, though a newcomer to the jail, is the one to announce that no one has fled (16:28).[1991] He might know despite the darkness because, in momentary discussion during the earthquake’s immediate aftermath, he might have advised them against flight. Prisoners did sometimes bond with one another; though sources reveal conflicts among prisoners as well as the presence of spies there, some prisoners even sacrificed food rations for others.[1992]
In addition to its other uses,[1993] music was employed for worship in cultic settings.[1994] Ancient worshipers commonly used hymns, here probably used in the fairly general sense of songs honoring a deity[1995] (in this case, the true God). Thus texts speak of “propitiating” Apollo with hymns[1996] or of pious Cyrus hymning to the gods at dawn (Xen. Cyr. 8.1.23).[1997] Many philosophers believed that some kinds of music could free the soul from perturbation;[1998] some attributed curative power to some forms of music.[1999] Music could also be connected with prophetic inspiration (whether as cause or as effect),[2000] including in Jewish and Christian circles.[2001] Jewish people especially sang in worship to God;[2002] they worshiped God for victories[2003] and regularly worshiped him in the temple.[2004] Greeks used hymns at night mostly in their night festivals;[2005] as noted, Jews also had individual night worship traditions (e.g., Pss 63:6; 88:1; 119:148),[2006] and some sectarian priests apparently studied during part of the night (1QS VI, 7–8).
Psalms (mostly canonical but also Pss 151–155)[2007] constituted the most popular biblical work at Qumran,[2008] and Christians probably simply continued the Jewish use of psalms.[2009] At some festivals, Jewish people sang the Hallel, from Pss 113–118 (Mark 14:26).[2010] Early Christians sang psalms (1 Cor 14:26; Eph 5:19; Col 3:16; cf. Jas 5:13), probably including “new” ones (1 Cor 14:15), and also made use of hymns (Eph 5:19; Col 3:16; cf. Heb 2:12), perhaps some similar to the songs found in Revelation (e.g., Rev 4:8, 11; 5:9–10, 12–13; 7:10, 12; 11:17–18; 12:10–12; 14:3; 15:3–4; 19:1–7).[2011]
II. THE EARTHQUAKE (16:26)
At precisely the time of the missionaries’ worship and in precisely such a manner as to free the prisoners’ chains without harming them, an earthquake strikes. Clearly Luke does not portray this feat as a mere coincidence of nature. Just as Acts’ other earthquake follows prayer (Acts 4:24–31), this one follows praise. This earthquake’s “suddenness” (ἄφνω) might recall 2:2—a theophany following concerted prayer (1:14; it need not be an allusion, however, as Luke also employs the term in 28:6). And just as God could open hearts (16:14; Luke 24:45) and doors of opportunity (Acts 14:27), he could open physically barred gates as well (5:19; 12:10; 16:26).
This account of liberation parallels others in Acts (5:19; 12:7–10), supplanting the Dionysiac tradition of divine escapes, though in this case the prisoners will not, in fact, escape.[2012] An earthquake shakes the halls of King Pentheus, freeing Dionysus from his prison (Eurip. Bacch. 585–93, 642–43).[2013] If prison doors flew open and chains dropped off to vindicate a follower of Dionysus (Ovid Metam. 3.699–700), how much more for an apostle of Christ?[2014] But just as Paul faces trials in Acts 23–26, so here Luke narrates his non-escape, like Jesus enduring the cross (Luke 23:35–37) and in contrast to Peter’s releases (Acts 5:19; 12:7–10; though in 5:20–26 he and the apostles submit to being arrested again). (Cf. Daniel’s protection while he remains in the lion’s den [Dan 6:16–23].) Having spiritually liberated a slave in Acts 16:18, Paul the “slave” of the Highest God (16:17) now refuses physical liberation in order to serve others. Although Luke narrates no escape here, however, he does highlight divine vindication.
MacDonald finds multiple allusions to Euripides’s Bacchanals (which does seem a natural place to look for parallels) in Luke’s narrative. The obvious parallel, freeing from prison, has been noted above, although the motif had been disseminated more widely in other escape narratives (see discussion at Acts 5:19).[2015] The other connections that MacDonald makes in addition to this parallel, however, are so peripheral that even their cumulative weight seems overwhelmed by that of other ancient sources, whether the name “Lydia,”[2016] Dionysus’s association with purple,[2017] or the “maenadic” ecstasy of the slave girl in 16:16.[2018]
John Weaver offers a fuller and more compelling list,[2019] including the presence of a persecutor in both (Pentheus in Euripides); the wrongly imprisoned deity or divine agents; darkness; a hymn;[2020] unexpected intervention;[2021] an earthquake, permitting escape; the voice of one unseen;[2022] the drawing of a sword;[2023] light;[2024] the captor rushing inside the darkened detention area;[2025] falling trembling to earth;[2026] accepting the deity;[2027] and escape becoming unnecessary.[2028] Some of the detailed parallels press too far, simply reflecting standard expectations for prisons (darkness); are not, in fact, analogous (lights); or reflect features too trivial for consideration (something “sudden”). Still others are too distant for us to be certain of their relationship.[2029] Moreover, Weaver recognizes that “most of the features of the Euripidean escapes are attested elsewhere in ancient Greco-Roman drama and mythography.”[2030] But a general evocation of Dionysus’s escape is clear in Luke’s prison escapes in general and is likely here as well.[2031] Most compelling is divine intervention for an escape through the shaking of the building, although Paul and Silas do not here escape.
What other connections might Luke’s ancient audience have discerned? In light of Luke’s first volume, the earthquake might be thought to prefigure God’s eschatological interventions (Luke 21:11),[2032] although it is clearly not eschatological here and fits better other earthquakes found in narrative genres. Thus, in one Jewish story, God rescues Abram from a burning furnace by sending an earthquake (L.A.B. 6:17). Ancient general assumptions about earthquakes may also bring us closer to hearing the text as an ancient audience would have. Pagans usually attributed earthquakes to the activities of deities (Dio Chrys. Or. 38.20), most often Poseidon (the Roman Neptune).[2033] The prisoners would likely also be frightened by the earthquake.[2034] Earthquakes were viewed as portents[2035] and could wreak terrible and unexpected destruction.[2036] One who predicted an earthquake might be treated as if he had caused it (Philost. Ep. Apoll. 68). Intellectuals, however, often sought alternative explanations for earthquakes.[2037]
An ancient historian as creative as Josephus might add an earthquake to further dramatize a narrative about God’s activity through nature.[2038] But earthquakes did happen, and one cannot rule out the possibility of providential timing in this case[2039] without entering the realm of theology and metaphysics. Appealing to modern skepticism about miracles while affirming the historicity of the account, some writers suggest that the poorly fitted doors of a small prison such as Philippi’s and wooden stocks connected weakly to the wall would most quickly be broken. Earthquakes are common near Philippi, and earthquakes do create such unexpected phenomena.[2040]
That exactly these things are broken but the roof does not collapse[2041] and the prisoners do not appear to suffer harm, however, indicates that Luke wants us to see God’s hand.[2042] Further, although earthquakes may be more common near Philippi, they also occurred in Corinth,[2043] Asia Minor,[2044] and indeed the entire primary area of Greek settlement.[2045] The movement of plates beneath Europe and Africa makes the Mediterranean an area of more intense earthquakes than many other regions.[2046]
III. THE JAILER INTENDS SUICIDE (16:27)
Luke’s account is so compressed that it leaves many scene details obscure. How was the chief jailer roused from sleep? Did the earthquake awaken him, or did subordinate guards do so?[2047] Was he stationed outside the prison, or had he gone home to his family for the night (Acts 16:33–34)? Or did his living quarters adjoin the prison? Probably a guard (16:29) awoke him or at least alerted him to the damage caused by this earthquake; on his arrival, he witnessed the unhinged doors, which could appear as if the prisoners had broken out. Because he hears no loud sound within the prison, it appears that no one is there; a normal earthquake that opened the doors would have also injured prisoners, leading at least to groaning, and one might expect other sounds of prisoners in the act of escaping if they had not already escaped. Prisoners escaping in the wake of an earthquake is not an unrealistic fear.[2048]
From a literary perspective, the jailer’s plan to kill himself fits Luke’s purposes. The execution of Peter’s guards has underlined the potentially serious consequences of divine escapes for jailers (12:19), and both that narrative and this one provide suspense and a motive when the soldiers plan to kill the prisoners later in 27:42. The jailer’s intention to kill himself also allows for Paul to rescue him, which provides the ironic upturn in the narrative. This rescue thus provides a contrast with the less pleasant execution of Peter’s guards (12:19) and emphasizes Paul’s lack of threat to Roman order.[2049] This comparison does not discredit Peter because he escaped whereas Paul refuses to avail himself of the same opportunity. Paul is a Roman citizen; his detainment is not immediately life-threatening; and his captors are Romans, who must respect rights of fellow Romans rather than a tyrant following the dictates of popular sentiment.
Historically, punishments of jailers would be based on “the degree of culpability” and the number and status of the prisoners.[2050] In some cases, this principle meant that the guard could be executed;[2051] a novel reports a guard who intended to kill himself when one of the bodies he was guarding was stolen (Petron. Sat. 112). In the more general sense, Romans viewed leaving one’s post as a capital offense (Livy 24.37.9), and among many peoples, the punishment for falling asleep on night watch was severe (Diod. Sic. 2.18.8; see comment on Acts 12:19).
Some scholars regard the jailer’s intention to commit suicide as historically inexplicable, noting that his superiors would have pardoned him, since the earthquake was clearly not his fault (Dig. 12.48.3).[2052] Although the earthquake was not his fault, malicious authorities could accuse him of negligence (Luke does not provide sufficient data for us to know if he was in fact negligent, but the authorities so far have not appeared generous [Acts 16:22–23]).[2053] He was plainly (explicitly) asleep, and it is possible that servants on whom he depended to watch the prisoners (assuming that he had assigned them to do so) had also gone to sleep.[2054] The jailer specifically would be responsible, having received a command to guard the new prisoners securely (16:23). Having guards in place should have exonerated him, but again not if he had proved negligent in selecting efficient guards, which the scene before him might suggest to his own mind.[2055] (The matter would be even more severe if he actually had been negligent. Though the servants implied in 16:29 probably functioned as guards, it is not clear that they were standing awake as sentries; in principle, at least, normally one could trust walls and chains to prevent egress from inside the inner cell.) The guards may well have feared to enter if they believed that some prisoners were likely free and potentially dangerous; the jailer surmises the prisoners’ escape without obtaining the entire story from the guards (“when he had seen the doors”). It is true that the authorities might not execute him; but the possibility remained, and suicide was also a remedy for disgrace (see the discussion of suicide below).[2056] Here the jailer prepares to fall on his sword in the appropriate Roman manner of suicide by sword, through either his heart or his throat.[2057]
Excursus: Suicide in Antiquity
Given the difficult circumstances of prison life, prisoners themselves often committed suicide, though guards were supposed to prevent it.[2058] But suicide was hardly limited to prisoners. Because a suicide’s estate could be preserved for his heirs, this means of death was often preferred to awaiting execution.[2059] Yet why would this jailer intend suicide?
Suicides and planned suicides appear frequently in ancient Mediterranean literature.[2061] The reasons are varied. Most ancients would have condemned some of the incidents as excessive: a slave hanged himself after a flogging (Theophr. Char. 12.12);[2062] a Cynic revealed his hypocrisy by killing himself when his fortunes failed (Diog. Laert. 6.8.100); a boy accustomed to drunkenness and prostitutes killed himself when forcibly weaned from them (Corn. Nep. 10 [Dion], 4.5).[2063] More understandable were those who killed themselves to end their suffering by disease or paralysis or wasting old age.[2064] People might also prefer the swiftness of suicide to a slow, excruciating death[2065] from, for example, dehydration and starvation.[2066] A friend’s death to escape painful disease might be gravely regretted (Pliny Ep. 1.12.1–4); likewise, choosing to endure pain for the sake of living on to the benefit of others was praised (1.22.9–10).
Some killed themselves out of loyalty to others. A friend might be willing to die with a friend, even by suicide if need be (Char. Chaer. 7.1.7);[2067] friends or servants who assisted someone in dying often followed this assistance up with killing themselves.[2068] Some burned themselves alive out of loyalty to Rome, to avoid surrendering to Carthage (Val. Max. 6.6.ext. 1); others killed themselves in sorrow when their general died,[2069] or killed themselves to spare their followers from being massacred (Tac. Hist. 2.49), to bring victory (Libanius Speech in Character 22, esp. 22.4), or to stay a plague (hypothetically, Quint. Decl. 326 intro.). A soldier who inadvertently killed his own father (who was fighting for the other side) killed himself (Val. Max. 5.5.4); another committed suicide in grief when his father died in his stead (Suet. Aug. 13.2). Some found praiseworthy a wife who killed herself rather than survive her husband (Pliny Ep. 3.16.6, 10–12) and who condemned wives who felt less “loyal” (3.16.9).[2070]
Many committed suicide because of grief over a loved one[2071]—mourning the death or apparent death of a spouse or romantic love,[2072] of a child,[2073] of a sibling,[2074] or of a parent.[2075] Some suicides were motivated by mourning over a lover’s rejection,[2076] and suicide appears at least as a fictional threat if one is kept from marrying one’s true love.[2077] It even appears as a form of patriotism, mourning the fall of one’s city.[2078]
Suicide was considered an appropriate remedy for disgrace.[2079] Sometimes the shame was over personal sexual misbehavior[2080] (e.g., incest);[2081] sometimes it was over being violated (a victim of incest or other forms of rape).[2082] Sometimes the shame arose from being beaten in a contest—for example, when Odysseus defeated Aias in the contest for Achilles’s arms, and Aias killed sheep thinking them his people[2083]—and it could also follow disgrace in battle.[2084] The shame could be for other misbehavior; for example, a son was ashamed of his betrayal of Rome when banished by his father (Val. Max. 5.8.3), and a woman reportedly hanged herself over her daughter’s alleged behavior (Eurip. Hel. 136, 200–202).
Many killed themselves to escape death at the hands of their enemies in battle or in the face of impending slaughter.[2085] Some killed their families as well as themselves, thinking this death better than the sort they would face from their enemies.[2086] This principle also applied to escaping a tyrant’s tortures[2087] or killing oneself rather than being executed.[2088] Thus, for example, Hannibal took poison to prevent his capture and execution.[2089] (Sometimes people were even forced to commit “suicide.”)[2090] Even Jews might consider suicide (or death at the hands of a merciful friend) more honorable than letting themselves be killed by another (Jos. Life 137) or letting their bodies be sexually abused (4 Macc 17:1). Some mocked the idea of killing oneself to evade dying (Mart. Epig. 2.80), but soldiers who knew the kinds of slow and agonizing deaths often experienced in battle or by inefficient executions may have preferred to die less painfully.
Suicide was deemed honorable and even courageous under appropriate circumstances.[2091] Cato’s suicide was widely praised as a model of courage.[2092] Many considered death preferable to the shame of a Roman soldier’s being captured alive (Jos. War 6.362); thus one of Caesar’s soldiers “nobly” chose suicide rather than an enemy’s offer of mercy (Plut. Caes. 16.4).[2093] Suicide was also counted an honorable way to die after suffering a military defeat (Dio Cass. 48.44.1 [Augustus’s father-in-law]; 51.15.3). Failure to kill oneself honorably rather than be forced to die by another’s hand was often regarded as cowardice.[2094] In some stories, people considered or committed suicide because they feared terrible punishment from their masters (Lucian Lucius 24, 39).
Under most circumstances, however, suicide was dishonorable.[2095] Aristotle noted that the state punished suicides with dishonor as acts against the state (N.E. 5.11.3, 1138a). When people began committing suicide to protest a tyrant’s overworking them, he crucified their bodies, deterring further suicides out of fear of dishonor (Pliny E. N.H. 36.24.107–8); a wise ruler might also forbid burying suicides (Dio Chrys. Or. 64.3).[2096] Suicides’ clothes and nooses were deposited in the location where people were executed (Plut. Themist. 22.2). In another setting, suicides could not be burned on funeral pyres like classical heroes but had to be buried instead (Philost. Hrk. 35.15). At least some burial clubs excluded all suicides, regardless of the grounds.[2097]
Probably patterned on the problems with burial were Lucian’s satirical questions about whether suicides could enter the underworld. Empedocles was burned black from his suicide in Aetna’s crater[2098] and (in one of Lucian’s works) was denied entrance to the realm of the dead (True Story 2.21). The judge debated whether Telamonian Ajax could be admitted, but finally allowed it, since there was evidence of insanity (2.7).[2099] Peregrinus tried to imitate Empedocles but did it so publicly that it was clear that he simply craved reputation (Lucian Peregr. 1); even the Brahmans, Lucian contended, acted from craving for glory (Peregr. 25).[2100]
The mode of suicide also mattered. Thus “death by jumping from a height (including drowning) or by hanging was despised and regarded as fit only for women, slaves, or the lower classes, apparently because it was disfiguring.”[2101] (For hanging, see comment on Acts 1:18.) By contrast, death by weapons could be viewed as “heroic,”[2102] as in many of the examples above; perhaps directly inflicting one’s mortal wound appeared to demand more courage than jumping from an elevation. Besides the examples of Empedocles and Peregrinus above, death by burning,[2103] probably borrowed from the reported practice of Indian sages, seems to have been used by some philosophers.[2104]
In general, suicide was tragic and undesirable behavior. Suicides are common in ancient tragedies (as opposed to thwarted suicides in comedies).[2105] Most accounts of suicide are sad (cf., e.g., Pliny E. N.H. 7.53.186), and many are meant to stir the pathos of tragedy. Some people also acted virtuously in dissuading others from suicide, as Paul does here.[2106] Failures at suicide appear especially in satire and novels (e.g., Petron. Sat. 94);[2107] those prevented, by others, from suicide often lived to see a better day.[2108]
3. Philosophers’ Views of Suicide[2109]
Cato allegedly read Plato’s treatise on the soul before attempting suicide (Appian Bell. civ. 2.14.98–99);[2110] some ancients alleged that another who read Plato’s essay killed himself (Callim. Epig. 25), but this may not be true (Cic. Scaur. 3.4). Like some other philosophers, Plato, in fact, opposed suicide (e.g., Plato Phaedo 62C).[2111] Scholars diverge on approaches to Socrates’s “suicide,”[2112] though many view it as suicide.[2113] Whether it should be considered suicide depends on the definition of “suicide”;[2114] refusing to flee a death sentence for various reasons (even if at the execution the victim must drink hemlock himself) is not the same as completely involuntary martyrdom, but neither is it morally the same as suicide to forestall such a sentence.[2115] Likewise, all these forms of death differ from, for example, suicide out of despair or depression (which, in contrast to death from other, more painful sources, would not have been viewed as courageous).
Most ancient sources, however, permitted suicide under “appropriate” circumstances, even counting it as virtuous or courageous.[2116] Philosophers advocated readiness to die; Epictetus recounts the bravery of those who stretched out their neck when being beheaded; one whose head was not completely severed stretched it out again (Diatr. 1.1.18–20).[2117] Some regarded as weak those unwilling to release themselves from life.[2118]
Stoics were known especially for their willingness to part with life.[2119] Although Seneca the Younger felt that ending life because of pain was cowardly, he held the same opinion of living on in pain without good reason (Ep. Lucil. 58.36).[2120] Nature could demand Seneca’s life, or he could give it back by his own choice (Dial. 7.20.5).[2121] Seneca,[2122] Epictetus,[2123] Marcus Aurelius,[2124] and other Stoic philosophers[2125] opined that God had provided everyone, in suicide, a way of escape if life became too difficult and one need simply take it.[2126] Stoics produced a limited list of acceptable reasons for selecting death as a wiser course.[2127]
Nor was the view that suicide could be a wise escape limited to Stoics, though they remained its primary advocates. Eclectic Platonists repeated the idea (Max. Tyre 7.5). Some philosophers, believing they had lived long enough, ended their lives.[2128] As noted above, Empedocles the Pythagorean was known for hurling himself into the volcano of Mount Aetna, earning the sustained ridicule of Lucian.[2129] The teaching of Hegesias, one of the Cyrenaic philosophers in earlier Athens, allegedly led to some of his hearers’ suicides.[2130]
At least sometimes philosophers treated suicide as negative. In response to Hermodorus’s banishment from Ephesus, the philosopher Heraclitus ordered the Ephesians to hang themselves (Mus. Ruf. 9, p. 72.17–18)! Even Stoics would restrain people from needless suicides (e.g., Epict. Diatr. 2.15.4–12); they also contended that it was a form of escape appropriate only to the wise, not to others.[2131] Other thinkers also claimed that the soul’s release from the body must be left to God alone, not taken into one’s own hands (Cic. Resp. 6.15.15).
For the most part, the Jewish range of views covered the same array of positions as Greek views, although probably more often opposing suicide on religious grounds. One Razis, preferring suicide to falling into the hands of sinners, stabbed himself but, not quite finishing the job that way, tore out his bowels (2 Macc 14:37–46), asking God for a new body at the resurrection (14:46).[2132] Josephus presents other deaths according to such Hellenistic heroic conventions. Thus Phasael died heroically, killing himself before he could be killed (War 1.271–72). Rather than be executed, many Gadarenes killed themselves (Ant. 15.358; War 4.79–80); to avoid being burned alive, many Jews fell on their swords (War 2.49); others also killed themselves to avoid capture or slaughter by the enemy, suicide being thought nobler (2.475–76; 3.331).[2133] Josephus[2134] reports the suicides as brave but does not favor them himself; he argues that survival in captivity (though not death at enemy hands) is better than suicide, but claims that he was unable to persuade his soldiers (3.355–91). Josephus’s bodyguard exhorted him to die honorably by his own hand rather than by his enemies’ hands (Life 137); he refused.
Josephus amplified the report of suicide at Masada,[2135] adding the Greek philosophic underpinning to make these revolutionaries more sympathetic figures to his audience[2136] and to display his intellectual literary skill.[2137] Rhetoricians and historians regularly provided speeches for and against; Josephus argues against suicide in War 3.362–82 (esp. 375–82) but allows Eleazar to advocate it (as a contrasted speech, what some have called an antilogos, to his own speech) in 7.341–88.[2138] Eleazar’s death was heroic but accomplished nothing besides gaining a heroic name for him (1.44); in the final analysis, Josephus’s portrayal is not completely favorable.[2139]
Did Josephus, despite his personal reluctance toward suicide, fabricate numerous suicides in his stories to appeal to a sophisticated Hellenistic audience? This is unlikely; the ideal of dying by one’s own hand rather than another’s was widespread in antiquity (cf. 1 Sam 31:4–5; 2 Sam 17:23, though the writer views both instances negatively). There is no doubting, however, that it would hold special appeal to his Hellenistically trained audience (4 Macc 17:1). In the book of Tobit, falsely maligned Sarah abstained from suicide only to spare her parents grief (Tob 3:10), and Tobit also prayed for death (4:2) but, like Sarah, did not act on such thoughts. Some respected biblical figures wished for death (Job 3:1–19; Jer 20:14–18; Jonah 4:8), but, again, they did not seek to kill themselves. Later rabbis considered a particular suicide a praiseworthy act of remorse (Eccl. Rab. 7:12, §1; 9:10, §3).[2140] Most suicides in rabbinic literature stem from seeking to evade a “fate worse than death.”[2141]
Traditions, however, often portray such acts negatively.[2142] Wisdom of Solomon warns against seeking death (Wis 1:12–16). Later rabbis condemned suicide as self-murder,[2143] the result of the evil inclination.[2144] In one source, rabbis reject the right of suicide, though showing benevolence to relatives of the victim.[2145] Josephus claimed that God’s law condemned suicide (murder by one’s own hand, αὐτοχειρία) as “impiety” (ἀσέβεια) against the Creator (War 3.369), far from the nature of any animals (3.369–70); God will punish those who cast their immortal souls out of the mortal bodies God has given them (3.371–72). It is not clear how Josephus reconciled this perspective with his hellenized examples of heroism, except perhaps to argue that the latter were under duress that would lead to death, in any case (as in, e.g., 3.331, 425).[2146]
Christian theology also rejected suicide (e.g., Justin 2 Apol. 4).[2147] Some scholars have argued that Paul’s extant letters support suicide in a way that resembles Stoic language;[2148] but although Paul often uses Stoic language, he never broaches the issue of suicide unless we define that term so broadly as to include accepting martyrdom in the biblical and Maccabean tradition. Early church fathers prohibited suicide except in the case of virgins guarding their chastity; Augustine went beyond such prohibitions, forbidding suicide also for virgins.[2149] Augustine rejected all suicide as a sin and saw it as defiling the soul.[2150]
Both Jews and Gentiles, and especially Romans, placed a positive value on courageous suicide as opposed to allowing oneself to face slaughter or (in this case) execution. Most regarded courageous suicide to guard one’s honor differently from dishonorable suicides. Even if the jailer would not be executed, his failure would entail tremendous shame in his community, also an accepted grounds for suicide in his culture. That Paul intervened and prevented his suicide with a better plan would, however, be valued as even more virtuous.
IV. THE MESSAGE OF SALVATION (16:28–32)[2151]
When Paul intervenes to save the jailer’s life, the jailer wants to know (from those who had proclaimed “a way of salvation,” Acts 16:17) how to be saved, a standard question of repentance in Luke-Acts. Dependence on the Lord Jesus would save both him and, through their faith, his household.
(1) Paul’s Intervention (16:28)
Paul’s intervention to prevent his captor’s death here illustrates Jesus’s teaching to forgive and to love one’s enemies (Luke 6:32–37; cf. 11:4; 23:34).[2152] Some scholars thoughtfully propose logistical problems in Luke’s account; if Paul is in the inner prison, how can he know about the jailer’s impending suicide or that the prisoners remain?[2153] These are, however, the sorts of logistical problems one encounters in accounts, both ancient and modern, where details of a scene are sketchy or taken for granted rather than provided fully. If Philippi’s prison was not large (and it probably was not),[2154] and if (as argued above) the other prisoners probably shared the inner cell for the night, other elements of the narrative make sense.
How would Paul see the jailer? Because there are torches outside (16:29), those in the darkened inner cell, hearing the commotion outside, could see the jailer even though he could not see them. (This assumes most likely a line of sight through the broken door of the cell.) Paul’s benevolent protection of his jailer here is ironic,[2155] as is the jailer’s benevolence to his captives in 16:33–34.[2156]
How would Paul have known that the prisoners remained? Some suggest supernatural insight (though Luke would have probably exploited this claim more explicitly had he intended it), or that he could hear, or that some hazy light remained.[2157] If they were all in the inner cell, prisoners surely could have heard speech and movement toward the one entrance even without seeing it.[2158] Moreover, although their chains were released from the walls, the prisoners presumably would still have chains attached to their bodies (although 16:26 does not specify this), which would make escape more difficult (and noisy) and detection afterward more likely.[2159] Other scholars add that they need not have known that the outer doors were also open, and that escape rather than awaiting trial “would require leaving the city and the region permanently.”[2160]
The narrative, however, may supply a further clue, albeit brief. The prisoners had been listening to Paul and Silas (16:25),[2161] who probably achieved some influence among them. There were other prisoners in Jesus’s case, too (Luke 23:32), and one was converted (23:40–43; though one could argue conversely from the same parallel that if any such conversions occurred here, Luke might have wished to highlight the parallel more explicitly). Knowing that armed guards were outside (Acts 16:29),[2162] prisoners in their weakened condition might have been reluctant to flee, and Paul may have encouraged them not to do so. Escape from custody was a criminal act under Roman law;[2163] refusing to escape when the opportunity presented itself might gain the attention and favor of officials.[2164] If the prisoners connected the earthquake with these preachers’ worship, as they might well be inclined to do, they would probably follow Paul’s advice.[2165]
The earthquake’s liberation of the prisoners from their bonds (16:26) raises a first-time hearer’s expectation of miraculous escape, following 5:19; 12:7–10, and a widely known story line in pagan tradition (see comment on Acts 16:26). That this expectation is thwarted underlines the point: in contrast to charges against Christians (e.g., 17:7; 24:5),[2166] Paul is so law-abiding and respectful toward the Roman colony’s authority that he does not try to escape even when he has the opportunity; divine intervention on his behalf (which implies his innocence; see comment on Acts 28:1–10) does not undermine public security. (Likewise, Paul assumes leadership in the storm of 27:31–35, and none of the prisoners who swim to shore in 27:42–44 escapes custody.) He remains respectful to Roman authorities in Acts 24–26 (cf. 18:12–14); he does answer a corrupt high priest (23:3), but even here he may somehow step back from his harsh words (23:5).
(2) How Can I Be Saved? (16:29–30)
The jailer’s actions are dramatic.[2167] His fear is extreme; the same term for trembling with fear appears for Moses’s fear at Sinai (Acts 7:32; also Heb 12:21).[2168] The lights (Acts 16:29) would be lanterns or torches, and it would be pointless for the jailer to enter without one, even if he trusts the prisoners not to assault him.[2169] Prisons were known for their oppressive darkness, especially in the securest inner cells.[2170] That the jailer calls for lights (16:29) indicates the same presence of subordinates that is probably suggested by his being roused in 16:27. A jailer might retire for the night and leave his servants in charge of the jail (Lucian Tox. 30).
The term κύριος in the vocative can mean no more than “Sir,” but by crediting Paul and Silas with the earthquake, the jailer may employ the term in a divine or semidivine sense.[2171] By addressing them as “Sirs” (κύριοι, Acts 16:30), the jailer places himself in relation to them in a manner analogous to the slave girl’s relationship to her “masters” (16:16, 19, the only other use of the term in the plural in Acts). In any case, the missionaries deflect the praise (as in 14:14–15) to Jesus: they are not “lords,” but the jailer should believe in the “Lord” Jesus (16:31).[2172]
Whereas the jailer sees them as “lords” able to “save,” Paul and Silas announce the true Lord “who alone can save.”[2173] The jailer’s question about how to be saved reflects a common Lukan construction (though put differently in different passages; Luke 3:10, 12, 14; 10:25; 18:18; Acts 2:37; 22:10), though available to Luke in pre-Lukan tradition at least in Luke 18:18 (Mark 10:17).[2174] The varied answers to the question in Luke-Acts suggest different aspects of repentance and faith: abandon possessions (Luke 3:11; 18:22–24; cf. Acts 2:44–45), abandon prejudice (Luke 10:27–37), abandon exploitation (3:13–14), and depend on Jesus (Acts 16:31).
Some scholars question how the jailer would infer that the earthquake happened on Paul’s behalf rather than for, say, one of the other captives.[2175] Although an answer readily suggests itself, it may be helpful to observe initially that any historical narrative can be deconstructed because narratives are always incomplete; Luke’s compression of data regularly raises this problem for his narrative. An incomplete narrative that does not answer all questions does not necessarily imply, however, that the narrative is implausible. Luke does in fact provide enough information for us to reconstruct a plausible and even probable answer to the question. Paul and Silas, unlike the other prisoners, were new (16:23).
Further, when they were imprisoned, those who handed them over to the jailer likely reported something about the charge, or perhaps he had heard something about them. Urban prisons normally kept logs of prisoners and their alleged offenses,[2176] and so the jailer would understand Paul and Silas in religious terms; before, he understood them as charlatans, but now as divine messengers. By whatever means, the narrative implies a connection between the jailer’s question and the mantic slave’s proclamation and hence further implies some knowledge of that proclamation on the part of the jailer. That the mantic had proclaimed them as showing the “way of salvation” (16:17) suggested that Paul and Silas, now legitimated by a divine sign, really could tell the jailer how to be “saved” (16:30–31). Now their God had “saved” or “delivered” them;[2177] they had “saved” his life in the short term, and he wished to be “saved” permanently, perhaps from the wrath of their God demonstrated in the earthquake.[2178] On the literary level, that a pagan can be “saved” in this way may echo Peter’s recent words in 15:11.[2179]
(3) Salvation through Faith (16:31–32)
Whereas the jailer looks to them for salvation (see comment on Acts 16:30), they redirect his attention to the true Lord who can save him. (“Lord” is one of Paul’s favorite titles in his letters.)[2180] Ancients would view as virtuous a teacher who continued to articulate the same message in prison, awaiting even death, as beforehand;[2181] early Christian literature subsequent to Acts provides many examples of witness and preaching while in prison,[2182] and we have evidence that the historical Paul continued to preach Christ while in prison (Phil 1:13; 4:22).
Paul and Silas expect that the family will convert with the head of the household, which was usually the case (cf. Acts 10:2),[2183] although other members of the household were sometimes converted first (1 Cor 7:12–16; 1 Pet 3:1). The text is hardly an unconditional guarantee for the conversion of family members (cf. Luke 12:51–53; 14:26; 18:29); rather, in context it implies the expectation (again based on the normal cultural pattern) that other members will be saved because they also will believe (Acts 16:31). Thus the missionaries proceed to speak to the members of the household (16:32), who also believe and receive baptism (16:33–34).[2184]
Respectable patrons of families were to rule their families, and grave embarrassment followed if they failed to do so. The behavior of family members reflected on fathers politically.[2185] The paterfamilias in a Roman household had exorbitant legal power,[2186] but this was mitigated in practice.[2187] Still, people evaluated fathers by their children’s religious decisions.[2188]
In some Jewish traditions, God would spare a child on behalf of his father.[2189] But Jewish traditions also normally supposed that the righteous affected his family morally. The righteous person prays for his household, and the Lord hears (Pss. Sol. 6:5); generally, the wicked also allow their families to be wicked (Wis 3:12). We do not know the ages of children (or whether this household, which could also include servants,[2190] included minor children still living at home)[2191] and so cannot apply this text directly to the question of infant baptism.[2192] In any case, welcoming households became the nuclei for churches and the bases for their propagation (Luke 10:5–7; Acts 16:15; 18:8).[2193] In Luke’s audience, Romans, for whom families’ household cults were traditional, would be families following the paterfamilias, although Roman non-Christians would not be pleased with Romans abandoning their gods (for possible Roman citizens, Acts 10:2, 24; 18:8; cf. 16:15).[2194] On household cults, see comment on Acts 12:12.[2195]
Constructions parallel to the jailer’s question elsewhere in Luke-Acts invite us to consider some of what faith in Jesus entails in the broader context of this work. Salvation through faith in Jesus as Lord (16:32) is compatible with repentance and baptism (2:38) and radical relinquishing of property (Luke 3:11; 18:22) but not with the demand that circumcision is necessary (Acts 15:1, 5, 7; cf. 13:39).
Although Luke does not report it, as it is not germane to his point, the jailer likely would have instructed the servants to secure the other prisoners again,[2196] presumably with chains or, at the least, by barricading the single entrance, before escorting Paul and Silas to his quarters. The jailer’s action of taking the missionaries to his home is risky; the other guards (cf. 16:29) will have some idea of what he has done.[2197] The same man who was ready for suicide in 16:27 because he thought his prisoners had escaped now is “ready to risk” “his career and professional prestige”; this is a radical conversion.[2198] In short, the man has been “saved” (16:30–31) and has thereby joined the ranks of the oppressed in this world, as Paul did earlier (cf. 9:16).
In Luke’s theology, discipleship does demand sharing with the gospel’s messengers what they need (Luke 10:7–8), together with willingness to die for Christ (9:23–26). But given the circumstances (Acts 16:26–28), the other guards, too, will respect Paul, and a cumulative case might be made with the authorities that could possibly minimize the jailer’s punishment (apart from the jailer losing his position). (Indeed, the officials, for whatever reason, are ready to release the missionaries in the morning [16:35].)
V. RECEIVING GOD’S AGENTS (16:33–34)
After the household members hear the message (16:32), they receive baptism (16:33) and show the missionaries risky hospitality (16:34). Such hospitality is a sign of receiving the missionaries and their message (Luke 9:4–5; 10:8, 10–11).
(1) Mutual Washing (16:33)
Washing the wounds was important for healing,[2199] and the phrase here probably implies some relief.[2200] Before the blood of the missionaries’ wounds dried, it would have been caked with filth. Prisons were known for their “squalor and appalling filth.”[2201] Infection could easily set in. Most prisoners were unable to bathe or have access to good hygiene, especially those imprisoned for long periods.[2202] Sometimes prisoners even became unrecognizable through filth and uncut, unkempt hair.[2203]
Ironically, as the jailer washed their wounds, so, in Luke’s very same sentence, he himself now receives the washing of baptism.[2204] As John Chrysostom puts it, the jailer “washed and was washed.”[2205] Where they washed (presumably the same location for both actions) is an insoluble question, but the archaeology of Philippi at least shows that there were options.[2206] Tenement buildings in urban areas such as Rome lacked good water access,[2207] but public fountains were available there,[2208] and we do not know anything about the jail’s surroundings except that it was likely a public area. The jailer would not hike out to the Gangites or Strymon rivers (with his household!) in the middle of the night with his prisoners; some scholars thus suggest a well, pool, or fountain in the courtyard.[2209] If the prison was near the north side of the forum (although, as noted, the traditional site there appears unlikely), two public fountains lay in the north of the forum,[2210] but these might be too conspicuous (if they would be recognizable at night; though the jailer, at least, might not have trouble with night watchmen if he were alone).[2211] The Roman baths were farther south[2212] and, regardless of the prison’s location, even more conspicuous. Another bath complex lay east of the forum, adjoining the Via Egnatia on the south. This ran the same risk of publicity, but a cathedral stands next to it, built about 400 C.E. over the site of an earlier chapel, perhaps suggesting its proximity to the jail.[2213] Whether the water came from a public fountain or from within the jailer’s courtyard, there is no doubt that water would be available for them somewhere.[2214] If it was not available within the courtyard, the jailer’s act was all the more courageous, though the narrative does not suggest that he was seen and betrayed to his superiors (Acts 16:35–36). In any case, baptism was a sufficient priority to take temporal priority over the hospitality obligation of assuaging hunger (16:34).
(2) Risky Hospitality (16:34)
Probably the jailer’s quarters were in or near the precincts of the jail, and perhaps a fresh water source was also (see comment on Acts 16:33).[2215] His quarters may even have adjoined the jail, though, as a public servant, his quarters would probably not have been of low status. But even if we postulate such proximity, the jailer takes serious risks (especially with guards and/or servants, and perhaps any other temporary prisoners, as witnesses; cf. the implication in 16:29). Washing the prisoners’ wounds (16:33) would not be punishable (it might not please the authorities but would be within his sphere of discretion), but removing the prisoners from the premises would be (especially after an order to keep them securely, 16:23).[2216] Laxity in restraints was counted as negligence or complicity with the prisoner, especially if the latter escaped.[2217] The jailer is trusting the missionaries with his life—but they have already saved his life, and so the trust seems well placed. Rapske compares the Jewish story of a jailer who risked danger, disguising himself as a Gentile to help Jews.[2218]
That the jailer sets food before Paul and Silas is remarkable. Doubtless they have not eaten, or eaten anything of substance, since entering the jail sometime before nightfall (some hours before, 16:25; cf. 4:3); prisoners normally depended on outside help to supplement their diet (see comment on Acts 24:23).[2219] Prison rations normally went only to the needy and only once a day, but a normal jailer would never offer his own food, in his own home, or in the middle of the night.[2220] But as he called the divine agents “lords” in 16:30, now he takes the posture of servant, setting the food (presumably the sense of τράπεζαν here) before them (cf. 6:2; Luke 17:8). Similarly, the Egyptian noble Pentephres “sets a table” before the great vizier Joseph because he eats apart from Egyptians (Jos. Asen. 7:1).[2221]
Further, dining with a prisoner, as here, would be punishable even by death. Thus, when one centurion guarding Agrippa learned that the emperor who imprisoned him had died, the centurion banqueted with Agrippa. But when he thought the rumor false, he believed that his life might be forfeit (Jos. Ant. 18.230–33).[2222] Even if the authorities plan to release the prisoners the next day, the only information we know that the jailer has been given is the command to guard these prisoners securely (Acts 16:23–24); if they are a high security risk, they might appear to be dangerous. He would at the very least lose his job if discovered.
This behavior reveals a dramatic and ironic reversal: before his conversion, he was prepared to kill himself over the prisoners’ supposed escape; now he takes serious risks to serve two of them.[2223] His behavior confirms his submission to Jesus as “Lord” (16:31). A jailer’s kindness could be viewed as meritorious,[2224] and some texts also used it as a sign of divine favor on the prisoner (Gen 39:21–22; 40:4; Test. Jos. 2:3). That the jailer “rejoiced” fits a Lukan motif[2225] for a response to God’s works (Luke 1:14, 44, 47, 58; 2:10; 6:23; 10:17, 21; 13:17; 24:41, 52; Acts 5:41; 12:14; 13:48, 52; 15:31), including conversion, both for those receiving it (Luke 8:13; Acts 8:39; cf. Acts 8:8; Luke 10:20) and for those learning of it (Luke 15:5–10, 32; Acts 11:23; 15:3).[2226]
That Paul and Silas embrace this hospitality, apparently without reservations, is hardly surprising given the circumstances in the story world, but it reinforces Luke’s larger portrait of eating with Gentiles (Acts 11:3; see comment there).[2227] Indeed, in this instance, the food is far less likely to be fully kosher than that offered by Cornelius, this jailer lacking the knowledge and time to prepare such a meal.[2228] The missionaries follow Jesus’s instructions to eat what is set before them (Luke 10:8), especially significant in light of Luke’s emphasis on table fellowship.[2229] But we should not underestimate the offense some may have taken to such accounts. Jewish prisoners were in a situation of uncleanness (m. Moʾed Qaṭ. 3:1–2). Some captured priests subsisted on figs and nuts rather than accept unclean food (Jos. Life 13–14), and R. Akiba was going to forgo eating if jail food was improperly prepared (b. Moʾed Qaṭ. 3; ʿErub. 21b).[2230]
e. Paul and Silas Vindicated (16:35–40)
Naturally, Paul does not seem to have recalled his Philippian suffering fondly (1 Thess 2:2); Luke’s perspective, however, concludes the narrative with a comic upturn that ironically inverts the suffering. Although the authorities employed force to put Paul and Silas in the prison, they must now use entreaty to get them out. Although the missionaries were publicly beaten and imprisoned for their “non-Roman” practices (Acts 16:21), they turn out to be Romans themselves (16:37). A narrative that begins with their humiliation now leads to the humiliation of the local officials instead.
Although Paul himself probably saw little humor in the situation (the officials even in Luke’s account seek to maintain face, and Paul must leave town quickly), there is good reason to accept Luke’s portrayal of Paul’s Roman citizenship as historically valid.
I. ATTEMPTED RELEASE (16:35–36)
The ῥαβδοῦχοι sent by the magistrates are, literally, “rod-carriers” and hence are lictors, who carried their rods (ῥάβδοι; Latin virgae) in bundles (fasces).[2231] Lictors were attendants of public officials in Rome and its colonies (see comment on Acts 16:22). We cannot be sure whether Luke intends us to think that the duumvirs order the missionaries’ release because Paul and Silas have received sufficient warning to keep them from coming to Philippi in the future or because of the earthquake; it is also possible that the jailer offered a favorable report about their behavior during the earthquake. Luke does not report whether the earthquake had any wider effects than in the jail. (Earthquakes in Greece rarely rank above 6.5 and never above 7.0 on the Richter scale, and because of the character of the faults, “the range of damage wrought by an earthquake of such a magnitude is limited to a few tens of kilometers from the epicenter.”[2232] A smaller earthquake might affect a more restricted area.)
Tremors were common in Philippi, as Luke’s audience would likely know, but it remains possible that some inhabitants would have seen the earthquake as divine retribution from the evangelists’ God, prompting hastier removal of the problem from Philippi.[2233] Although naturalistic understandings of earthquakes were common enough among intellectuals (as noted above at Acts 16:26), many ancients viewed earthquakes as portents, and this belief sometimes led even to changes in public policy (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 6.38). Fearing religious persons with whose abuse a subsequent earthquake is associated appears also in more recently documented history.[2234]
If, however, the quake’s damage was minor outside the jail (it may not have even awakened the jailer, though this is unclear; Acts 16:27), it is possible that the early-morning order to release the pair comes before the magistrates are aware of the earthquake damage, since Philippi would be accustomed to minor tremors. Magistrates, like other people of rank, normally attended to business early in the mornings.[2235] Perhaps the jailer sent word on behalf of the prisoners, but such behavior for one in his role would have been dangerous (perhaps inviting even investigation into his behavior that night), and given Paul’s response in 16:37, Paul would likely have deterred any such inclination on the jailer’s part.
Some scholars think that Lydia and her allies may have lodged a protest;[2236] they could have acted swiftly through private intermediaries of rank to speak to the magistrates. But Lydia’s conceivable economic status would not change her social status as an outsider, and garnering advocates might well take longer than a day. Magistrates might be afraid to offend a local Jewish community that could appeal to Rome or to the provincial governor about its mistreatment,[2237] but Philippi apparently lacked a functioning Jewish community (having only a small number of God-fearing and perhaps some Jewish women), and Philippi’s magistrates may well have felt emboldened and protected by recent anti-Jewish activity in Rome (see comment on Acts 16:20; 18:2). The magistrates may have simply felt that the public beating, the night of imprisonment, and perhaps expulsion from the city would serve as sufficient deterrent to these preachers’ further activity in Philippi. Duumvirs had the authority to release prisoners.[2238]
The jailer now can deliver the good news to the missionaries (16:36). Although the jailer had shown Paul and Silas special favor (16:33) and even brought them into his own home under cover of night (16:34), he could not release them until he had orders from the city officials. Granting them privileges outside jail at night was certainly risky, but releasing them would have been a worse offense than the supposition of negligence for which he had intended suicide in 16:27. Thus one who let a friend out of prison might have to flee into exile with him, abandoning public office (Val. Max. 4.7.3). The early-morning timing of the news probably means that the jailer did not even need to speak on their behalf, which would not have been punishable officially though such an action could have been impolitic.[2239]
The jailer’s “Go in peace” (Acts 16:36) was traditional Jewish and Christian language and seems surprising for such a new convert. But Luke’s informed audience knows that the gospel message included preaching peace (with God, 10:36) and that apostles would greet receptive households with the blessing of peace (Luke 10:5–6; cf. Matt 10:13), a blessing also appropriate on departure (Luke 7:50; 8:48; Acts 15:33).[2240] Ancient readers would not have objected if this was Luke’s language rather than the jailer’s, but for Luke’s audience, the language functions in its Lukan context, in either case.
II. CRIMINAL ABUSE OF ROMAN CITIZENS (16:37)
To beat and imprison Roman citizens without trial (Acts 16:37) was itself a criminal offense. The officials, who accepted the charges that these Jewish missionaries undermined Roman customs, now learn that these missionaries are themselves Roman citizens and that the officials themselves might need to answer to Rome for their behavior. Jesus, Peter, and Stephen all addressed local authorities boldly earlier in Luke-Acts; Paul does the same, though in this case appealing to status rather than to divine commission.
Paul’s “us” seems to cover Silas, probably implying that he is also a Roman citizen.[2241] This implication comports with Paul’s Latin name for Silas in Paul’s epistles, “Silvanus,”[2242] a fairly respectable Roman name;[2243] this name does not require Roman citizenship, but it is consistent with it. If Paul was to take a Jerusalem Christian with him to replace the Diaspora-born Barnabas, who better than a Roman citizen?[2244] By introducing Paul’s citizenship in this trial scene, Luke prepares the way for the major trial narratives of Acts 22–26 (and especially Paul’s appeal to Caesar), where Paul’s Roman citizenship is foundational to the narrative.[2245] Though most of Luke’s audience might infer Paul’s citizenship from his name, Luke is undoubtedly happy to highlight it as part of his larger strategy of showing that Paul posed no true (political) threat to Roman order.[2246]
Although the matter remains debated, the majority of scholars today seem more inclined to accept or defend Luke’s claim of Paul’s Roman citizenship than to dismiss or contest it.[2247] Fitzmyer even claims that it is “almost universally admitted.”[2248]
(1) Objections to Paul’s Roman Citizenship
Some scholars express skepticism that Paul was genuinely a Roman citizen.[2249] He does not mention it in his own letters whereas Luke, who elsewhere attributes to Paul marks of significant status (e.g., 7:58; 9:1–2; 22:3), notes it twice, with greater status the second time (16:37; 22:25–28). Thus some think that Luke creates Paul’s citizenship to appeal to high-status readers such as Theophilus. Further, it is argued that a citizen would have easily evaded the punishments that Paul suffered both here and in his letters (2 Cor 11:24–25).[2250] I will respond to several such objections before turning to positive arguments favoring Paul’s Roman citizenship.
First, some argue from Paul’s silence that Luke created the citizenship claim to raise Paul’s social status.[2251] In favor of this objection, it should be granted immediately that Luke’s attribution of Roman citizenship to Paul claims significant status for him.[2252] Eventually the franchise of citizenship became widespread,[2253] but it remained a significant mark of honor in the first-century eastern Mediterranean world because it still remained rare there.[2254] Hereditary honors or low status were significant matters in both rhetoric[2255] and epideictic biography.[2256] Josephus claims that Roman citizenship offered an enviable status to a Judean both in Julius Caesar’s day (first century B.C.E., War 1.194) and in his own (late first century C.E., Life 423). Citizenship would provide a specially rare status in the East outside colonies (e.g., in Jerusalem, Acts 22:26–28) but would be highly respected and valued, though common, in colonies such as Philippi and Corinth.
Did Luke, however, invent Paul’s high-status background (also in 22:3) or merely report and use it? To establish a motive (i.e., it is consistent with his interests) is not necessarily to establish his method (fabrication, rather than selection and adaptation of data, runs counter to his and most others’ normal historiographic methodology; see discussion in the introduction).[2257] How valuable would Luke’s apologetic be if it proved easily open to challenge?[2258] To argue against Luke’s claim from Paul’s silence is not simply an argument from silence[2259] but even worse, a dismissal of the information from one generally accurate source by an appeal to the silence in another. Paul’s own writings suggest training and attitudes from a high-status background,[2260] especially when we compare his rhetorical and philosophic skill with that of the majority of his Judean compatriots. Although not always, leaders seem to emerge from privileged backgrounds in numbers disproportionate to their numbers in society.[2261]
Paul in his own writings provides hints of a status (in Judaism, Gal 1:14; Phil 3:4–6) that he elsewhere suppresses because he rejects boasting in it (2 Cor 11:30; 12:5, 9–10; Phil 3:7); his use of rhetoric betrays his education, which would not have come cheaply, but he mentions no education except in the law (Gal 1:14). Granted that Luke is more prepared to boast about Paul than Paul is about himself, does this imply that Luke has fabricated the elements about which he boasts? Regarding other passages where we are tempted to suppose that Luke fabricates elements of boasting, such as miracles or suffering, Paul’s letters suggest that these occurred more often, not less often, than Luke reports (Rom 15:19; 1 Cor 4:11–12; 2 Cor 11:23–33; 12:12). The epistolary Paul boasts only under rhetorical duress (2 Cor 11:16; 12:1, 11),[2262] and it is never citizenship claims that generate the duress; Luke’s Paul likewise boasts only under duress.[2263] That Luke’s Paul mentions his citizenship only under circumstances that could not arise in the epistles comports well with the epistles’ evidence. Arguing from silence on the basis of what Paul’s occasional letters omit is a precarious exercise. Thus, for example, had not Paul had incidental reason to mention his Pharisaism (which was high-status in Judea) in Phil 3:5, we would lack explicit Pauline corroboration of this feature of Luke’s presentation. Skeptics would then question Luke wrongly on the basis of Paul’s silence.
Paul attaches no importance to his Roman citizenship either in his epistles or in Acts,[2264] but the fact that neither he nor others attached importance to it in the church does not mean that he would not appeal to it when it would be helpful in danger.[2265] He mentions nothing about his family in his epistles (except the passing allusion we may infer in Phil 3:5) and chooses to boast of other matters (2 Cor 11:21–12:10).[2266] He boasts in weakness (12:5, 9–10) and is self-effacing even regarding his evident rhetorical prowess (1 Cor 2:1–3);[2267] in later epistles he (or his pseudepigrapher) even emphasizes his chains and prisoner status, deliberately focusing on marks of low status (Phlm 1, 9–10, 13, 23; Phil 1:7, 13–14, 17; Eph 3:1; 4:1; 6:20; Col 4:3, 10, 18; 2 Tim 1:8, 16; 2:9). At the heart of Paul’s theology of dependence on Christ is avoidance of boasting in earthly matters or human competition.[2268] But as in Paul’s letters (2 Cor 10:7–12:13; cf. Phil 3:5–6),[2269] so in Acts 16:37, Paul could appeal to status, or “boast,” when “necessary” (cf. 2 Cor 12:1, 11).[2270]
The Paul portrayed in Acts and presupposed in the epistles must have worked hard to affirm his fidelity to the law in Jerusalem; a Diaspora Jew (Acts 9:11) familiar with Greek argumentation (see his letters, passim),[2271] he was zealous for ancestral tradition (Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6) and even calls himself an “outstanding Hebrew” (Phil 3:5). In his epistles, Paul apologizes when he boasts even when he has redefined the content of boasting away from social status, recognizing the normal inappropriateness of self-boasting.[2272] He defines his identity as a servant or apostle of Christ (Rom 1:1; Gal 1:10), a definition that would be subverted by his appeal to social status.
Second, some scholars doubt the plausibility of Paul’s citizenship on the basis of their supposition that the privilege belonged only to the elite. Stegemann doubts that Paul and his father, as Jews, could belong to the municipal elite, for whom (he thinks) citizenship was reserved.[2273] He claims, for example, only three Julii from Ephesian inscriptions of the Augustan period and only twenty from all first-century inscriptions.[2274] In his thorough dissertation focusing on Ephesian inscriptions and Paul, however, Steven Baugh demonstrates that Stegemann misreads the evidence. The Julii on later inscriptions were most likely descended from Ephesians who were granted the franchise under Julius or Augustus.[2275] He points out that of the 1,173 Roman citizens who appear in Ephesian inscriptions, 429 of them bear nomens of patrons other than emperors.[2276] Though citizens were a small minority, they were much more common than Stegemann allows; they could achieve their citizenship by manumission, assisting a general, and various other means (see comment on Acts 22:28).[2277] Thus inscriptions report even “fishermen” in Ephesus who were citizens.[2278] Moreover, nonelite persons could readily become citizens by various means—most relevant here, descent from properly manumitted slaves of citizens, a category that included a number of Roman Jews.[2279] Due partly to the difficulty of excavating there, Tarsus has enjoyed far less scholarly attention than Ephesus, but evidence suggests that many Tarsians would have become Roman citizens in the first century B.C.E.[2280]
Third, Stegemann doubts that Jews such as Paul could be Roman citizens, because most locales would require Roman citizens’ participation in pagan practices.[2281] But Baugh points to Ephesian inscriptions that reveal “Jews with Roman names and local citizenship fully participating in the lives of their cities.”[2282] Josephus attests numerous Jewish Roman citizens.[2283] Inscriptions show Jewish Roman citizens with significant roles in the Diaspora (especially in synagogues); many religious Jews found their Roman honor compatible with their Jewish practice.[2284] Many freed Jewish slaves were Roman citizens in Rome itself; we know of an entire community of Jewish Roman citizens across the Tiber (Philo Embassy 155–57).[2285] Although faithful Jews were never enrolled in Greek tribes, which entailed religious obligations, the Roman tribes were simply political and legal fictions by this period.[2286] In short, Jewish Roman citizens retained the privileges held by all Jews under Roman policy.[2287] Pointing out that Jewish Roman citizens in Rome often had closer ties to Judea than the nearer Alexandrians did, Hengel complains that Stegemann’s theory simply neglects the hard evidence of ancient sources: “Clearly he does not know them well enough.”[2288]
Fourth, some scholars doubt Paul’s Roman citizenship because he never uses his tria nomina in his letters, as inscriptions normally did for Roman citizens.[2289] But these inscriptions typically sought to promote the status of their dedicatees whereas Paul, as noted above, eschewed finding honor in even traditional biblical honor categories (Phil 3:7). More striking, Stegemann ignores Greek usage, in which even some Greeks who were Roman citizens listed their names in Greek ways.[2290] Paul, who spent his entire life in the East and whose letters reveal fluent Greek even when addressing churches in Roman colonies (Philippi, Corinth; or Rome itself), would certainly follow this Greek method. Paul’s Jewishness also leads us not to expect the tria nomina. Of at least fifty Jewish funerary inscriptions of Jewish Roman citizens, none bears the three names.[2291]
Further, Paul writes letters, not inscriptions or census lists, a difference of genre important to the discussion at hand. Thus, for example, Pliny in his letters always uses one or two names, and well-known Romans might be called “by only one name in their correspondence and literature.”[2292] Paul uses only one name for other Romans (e.g., some in Rom 16:3–23, notably including 16:23); the NT writings never use the tria nomina even for governors such as Gallio or Felix (two names at most: Pontius Pilate in Luke 3:1; Acts 4:27; 1 Tim 6:13; Sergius Paulus in Acts 13:7; Porcius Festus in 24:27).[2293] Although Paul may not employ the tria nomina, he goes by a Latin name that would imply the likelihood of his citizenship (see further discussion of his name below).[2294]
Fifth, some doubt Paul’s citizenship because one of his letters claims that he was beaten with rods.[2295] This objection is stronger than some of the others. Yet this experience of beating need count against Paul’s citizenship no more than Luke’s claim that he was beaten with rods in Acts; if Luke, who understood the value of Roman citizenship against such abuse (Acts 16:37–38), saw no contradiction, it is possible that Paul would not have seen any either.[2296] (See the response to the sixth objection, related to this one, below.) After all, Paul would not have been the only Roman citizen to suffer this discipline or harsher ones in the provinces contrary to Roman law.[2297] The governor Florus later crucified Jews who were not only Roman citizens but of equestrian status—that is, of the same technical rank that most procurators held (Jos. War 2.306–8).[2298] Beating with rods would undermine the likelihood of his citizenship only if it were being argued that he was beaten in a particular city after he had proved his citizenship.[2299] As noted above, officials used rods for free persons and local citizens, with harsher beatings for slaves and provincials.[2300] Propagandistic Roman claims about imperial justice notwithstanding, provincials like Paul knew a different side of public administration. This side of experience is well attested even in the numerous suits brought to Rome regarding maladministration, against even governors (see comment on Acts 24:27).
Finally, some scholars aver that Paul would hardly have waited till after the beating to announce his citizenship.[2301] The comment on Acts 16:22 addressed this objection at length, and so the response is merely summarized here. Had Paul disclosed his citizenship before the beating, he would have received a fairer hearing but might have been subject to prolonged legal quarrels,[2302] a demand for evidence of his claim from Tarsus,[2303] and a consequent long period of negative focused publicity unhelpful for the church, and in the end he might have lost anyway. Once the officials have beaten him without trial (ἀκατάκριτος, as in Acts 22:25), it is they who have clearly violated Roman law, and, if his citizenship will make any difference at all, Paul will have the upper hand in any negotiations. (Such a strategy was undoubtedly not tried often, because it entailed significant pain and shame and, like the alternative, was not guaranteed to work.) Whether the strategy belongs to Paul or to Luke, those who find this element of the narrative incongruous have missed its brilliance. Within the narrative world, and perhaps in connection with his dialogue with the jailer, Paul may have learned in Philippi a strategy (with the addition of presenting charges against him as purely religious, after Acts 18:12–16) that served him in good stead in his later appeal to Caesar.
The strategy certainly proves effective within the narrative world, and it was also plausible within the real Roman world. Angry at a plebeian’s boldness in challenging their unfair decision, some leaders ordered their lictors to strip him and pummel him with their rods (Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 9.39.1). He appealed to Roman law, which required that he be allowed to stand trial (9.39.2). By seeking to beat him untried, ignoring his appeal for the advocacy of the tribunes, they had exceeded their legal mandate (9.39.5). Dionysius expects his readers to feel outrage.[2304] Beating a citizen, whether his citizenship was known beforehand or not, could subject the abusers to negative publicity.
(2) Arguments Supporting Paul’s Citizenship
First, Paul’s name favors (although it does not prove) his Roman citizenship (cf. comment on Acts 13:9).[2305] Although some scholars doubt whether we can know whether “Paulus” is a nomen or cognomen, it is nearly always a cognomen—for example, in Ephesian inscriptions.[2306] It is only rarely attested as a praenomen, and then probably as the reuse of a cognomen from earlier family tradition; the cognomen was also the one name in the tria nomina by which a person was most likely to be called.[2307] The name was “extremely rare among non-Romans, above all in the Greek East,” and still more so among Jews;[2308] why would parents give such a name to a son who was not Roman? It was a standard Roman name, and a respectable one at that; to Roman ears it would probably suggest, though not demonstrate, citizenship.[2309]
Thus, although Paul does not claim his citizenship in his letters, much of his audience would assume it as likely because of his name unless he made a claim to the contrary. Paul could have gone by a non-Roman name had he so chosen, but only Luke (the same source who reports his citizenship) provides us this non-Roman name, and Luke suggests that Paul shifted to his more useful Roman name in the Diaspora. Further, Paul obtained his Roman name somewhere, and this despite the fact that he was raised in Jerusalem (Acts 22:3), where it was hardly merely for decoration.[2310] Even Greek names were not dominant in Judea (see comment on Acts 6:5), and Roman names were still less popular there. Like Paul, Luke probably expects his audience to recognize Paul’s citizenship from his name; although it is possible that Luke uses the revelation of Paul’s citizenship in 16:37 to pleasantly surprise Luke’s audience (cf. the possibility of surprising some at 13:9), it appears more likely that he presupposes rather than emphasizes it. If Luke merely wished to underline Paul’s status with the claim, he could have introduced it earlier and more emphatically.
Second, only as a citizen would Paul appeal to the emperor and be sent on to Rome (25:10–12). Luke had no reason (especially in a “we” section) to invent Paul’s transport in custody,[2311] and it is difficult to explain it without an appeal, the successful granting of which is even more difficult to explain apart from his citizenship.[2312] Some scholars doubt that Paul’s appeal to the emperor indicates his citizenship,[2313] but this doubt is highly questionable. Denying his citizenship should probably also entail denying his appeal to Caesar, but if Festus did not allow an appeal to Caesar it is difficult to understand why Festus would have sent him to Rome instead of deciding the case himself.[2314] If one responds that Judean politics made a fair hearing impossible in Judea, we may note that, were Paul not a citizen, local politics would have trumped Roman justice long before this point (under Felix if not Festus).[2315] Paul’s citizenship is the best explanation for the divergence in immediate outcomes between Jesus’s and Paul’s trials despite Luke’s interest in paralleling them.[2316]
To deny the fact and success of such an appeal would essentially render the final quarter of Acts fictitious, although it is the most detailed part of Acts and belongs to the most sustained period covered in the “we” narrative. Some might prefer to dismiss the final quarter of Acts anyway, but Luke’s portrayal of events fits our incidental and scattered information in Paul: he hoped to come to Rome (Rom 1:15; 15:24); he expected opposition in Judea first (15:31); when we do find him in Rome, he is there in Roman custody (Phil 1:13).[2317] The hypothesis of Paul’s Roman citizenship does resolve some questions that its denial does not.
Third, Luke’s account is consistent with his claim of Paul’s Roman citizenship even when this is not the point that Luke is emphasizing. If Paul was from the synagogue of the libertini (Acts 6:9), as the narrative almost certainly implies (7:58; cf. Cilicians in 6:9), this background alone could explain Paul’s Roman citizenship.[2318] Yet if Luke were merely inventing such citizenship, why would he not have Paul possess it not just as one personally freeborn (22:28) but as a descendant of one granted the franchise for merit, rather than (as one might infer from 6:9) as a freedperson? Such a change would raise Paul’s status still higher and could work well if Luke were ready to indulge in such free fictionalizing to establish Paul’s status. Freedperson status was also more questionable for some Jews; especially if any of one’s female ancestors were slaves,[2319] one could be viewed as ethnically mixed. Had Luke invented citizenship to flaunt Paul’s status, we might also expect it to appear at other points in honorable relations with Romans (e.g., 13:7, 12; 18:14) and not only under extreme circumstances. Indeed, if anything, Luke’s narrative portrays a Judean who has never made much use of his privilege and who may only gradually acquire the realization of its concrete benefits, an attitude we might expect from a member of a minority that initially mistrusts the dominant society. It might have even taken the converted jailer to explain to him that appeal to his privilege could prove effective in Philippi.
Some scholars have provided some additional supporting arguments that are secondary in character. The epistolary Paul has significant interaction with Romans; although his letters to the Corinthians are in Greek, the names of the church’s members suggest that he did in fact reach many of the colony’s Roman citizens.[2320] That Paul was able to reach Roman citizens or those with special Roman sympathies in Greek-speaking areas is evident from the high proportion of Roman names overall in his circle, especially—but by no means exclusively—in Corinth.[2321] Moreover, in Paul’s letter to the Romans, he tells the believers in Rome, many of whom are Greek-speaking peregrini,[2322] that “you” are subject to tribute rather than saying “we” (Rom 13:7). Some argue that this fits Luke’s suggestion that Paul was a Roman citizen not subject to tribute (φόρος).[2323]
Paul also targets locations appropriate for encountering Roman citizens.[2324] He focuses on a higher proportion of Roman colonies than is their percentage among ancient cities, and he sometimes does so even when (as in the case of Philippi) their Jewish communities were apparently small; his desire to go to highly romanized, Latin-speaking Spain (Rom 15:24, 28) also suggests his comfort level (by that point, at least) with Roman civilization. Such arguments are not absolutely compelling by themselves: Paul targeted strategic areas for reaching an empire that Rome ruled, and after significant experience in Roman Corinth, he would be more than ready for romanized areas of Roman Spain. But these observations about Paul’s interest in Roman colonies and the West are consistent with the other evidence supporting his Roman citizenship. Paul’s assumption that the Philippian Christians, some of whom were Roman citizens and probably most of whose patrons were, would share the outcome of his trial (Phil 1:7, 30) may also support his citizenship.
Paul expected potential conflict with hostile Judeans in Judea (Rom 15:31). Scholars skeptical that Paul was a Roman citizen (or that his citizenship played a part in the trials) have a harder time explaining how Paul ended up in Roman (as opposed to local Judean) custody in Jerusalem (and hence why he did not die there) and very likely how he ended up in custody in Rome.[2325] Although Paul hoped to voyage to Rome after he finished in Jerusalem, if all went well (15:22–25),[2326] we need not assume that all therefore went well; Luke would probably not invent a lengthy Roman custody in Caesarea if none occurred (this would run against his Tendenz), especially when our record from Rom 15:31 indicates only the expectation of Judean opposition in Judea. Luke’s claim that Paul was sent by the Romans themselves after custody in Judea seems plausible.
Further, if Luke invented Paul’s citizenship to fictionalize his high status, why did he not make him of equestrian status or offer him higher rank than citizenship alone conferred? And why did he not reserve Paul’s known troubles with Roman authorities for his famous execution under the tyrant Nero instead of extending his captivity under other Roman administrators such as (the historical governors) Felix and Festus?
Why do Paul and Silas need to raise the point of citizenship at all, once they are being released? An important reason is that in the eyes of Philippi’s inhabitants (and perhaps the new Christians among them), their condemnation appears to reflect poorly on their mission and the church they have started; securing at least some degree of vindication will encourage the church and, it is hoped, discourage later aggression against it.[2327] That this concern was a valid one, whether or not the attempted solution proved successful, may be surmised from that church’s later sufferings (Phil 1:28–30). Paul’s own mention of the events indicates that he felt keenly the shame of the public humiliation (1 Thess 2:2); only by contesting the affront can the pair regain dignity in the eyes of anyone in Philippi.[2328]
Public beating and imprisonment incurred shame, a shame that would attach to the mission if not corrected.[2329] Prisons and bonds were linked with shame regularly in ancient literature,[2330] and public “pressure to abandon the prisoner” was great even for friends.[2331] That the small, new Christian movement would face pressure and need encouragement may be regarded as certain. One humiliated even in a public debate or case might avoid the public sphere (the forum in Suet. Rhet. 6). But just as being led in chains publicly shamed prisoners (Dio Cass. 58.11.1F; Suet. Vitell. 7.17.1), sometimes producing even lifelong dishonor (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 7.34–37),[2332] so publicly leading the apostles out in more honorable fashion might offer a quiet way for the authorities to present the victims more honorably without losing too much face in the process.[2333]
III. THE OFFICIALS’ REVERSAL (16:38–39)
If the officials have wrongly had the missionaries beaten and imprisoned, the tables of law and shame could be turned. The officials are reduced from merely granting the missionaries release to begging for their departure.
(1) The Officials’ Danger (16:38)
That Paul would be lying, especially once he is being released and has nothing to gain from it except lost honor, neither makes sense of the narrative nor would make sense to the magistrates. Those who made false citizenship claims could be punished severely (Epict. Diatr. 3.24.41) or even be publicly executed (Suet. Claud. 25.3);[2334] even to claim citizenship and fail to prove it could lead to death.[2335] “Even a desperate person could scarcely have risked two citizenship claims and an appeal to Caesar without the right to do so” (cf. Acts 16:37; 22:28; 25:10–11).[2336] It would make no sense at all for one being released from detention, albeit disgraced (perhaps in contrast to someone about to be executed), to risk such a claim if it could be disproved.
Romans of high status more often than not flaunted it on their travels, gaining special privileges.[2337] High status of any sort improved one’s standing in court.[2338] Paul was not of high rank apart from his citizenship (which was shared by all citizens of Philippi), nor was he flaunting his status (consistent with his perspectives in his letters, he would not emphasize his status the way many other people did). But he had been treated inhospitably enough to warrant redress.
The officials have reason to fear (cf. similarly ἐφοβήθη in 22:29). The duumvirs had authority to practice coercitio without trial[2339] but could not legally exercise this right over Roman citizens. The magistrates omitted a trial because they simply assumed without proper investigation that the apostles were not Roman citizens.[2340] It is not Paul’s late disclosure of his citizenship that is problematic legally but their failure to allow for the possibility of it.[2341] In the Roman period, local officials of cities throughout the empire requested official permission on even minor matters, such as starting a fire department (rejected) or replacing the city baths (accepted).[2342] When they were in doubt, matters were to be checked with higher authorities, albeit without troubling them unnecessarily.[2343]
The danger now is not that these Jewish Roman citizens might appeal (the punishment having been inflicted already, there would be little point) but that they could bring a case against the magistrates themselves, providing a better vindication of their honor.[2344] Specific laws prohibited the abuse of Roman citizens; although these laws were sometimes flouted, the consequences could be serious if the abuses were brought to the attention of higher Roman authorities.[2345] If the magistrates had deprived Roman citizens of their legal rights, they could be removed from office and disqualified from holding public office again (Cic. Verr. 5.66); a city could also lose privileges (as happened in Rhodes; Suet. Claud. 25).[2346]
From a much earlier time, the Porcian law imposed “a heavy penalty if anyone should scourge or put to death a Roman citizen” (Livy 10.9.4 [LCL, 4:389]). A Roman should never be punished without trial (Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 5.70.2; cf. 7.50.3); when one (in this case, a veteran) was scourged with rods, this breach of law warranted the deposition of witnesses for legal action.[2347] In establishing reasons for the Judean revolt, Josephus invites Gentile readers’ sympathy by noting that Florus crucified Jewish Roman citizens (even those of the equestrian status, War 2.308), an illegal act.[2348]
Cicero offers the classic examples, widely remembered in the first century C.E. He condemns Verres for torturing and executing Roman citizens “like slaves” (Verr. 1.5.13); for crucifying them in spite of their pleas as Romans (2.1.3.7); and for chaining, imprisoning, flogging, torturing, and even crucifying them (2.1.3.9; 2.3.24.59). Their blood now demanded his punishment (2.1.3.8).[2349] Any act against Roman citizens’ rights anywhere impacted Romans’ liberty and honor everywhere (2.5.55.144); would not all advocates of Roman rights thus be enemies of Verres, who scourged and crucified citizens (2.3.3.6)?[2350] Cicero expresses such indignation particularly vehemently in 2.5.66.170 (LCL, 2:655–57): “To bind a Roman citizen is a crime, to flog him is an abomination, to slay him is almost an act of murder:[2351] to crucify him is—what? There is no fitting word that can possibly describe so horrible a deed.” Not surprisingly, Verres fled Rome before Cicero finished his prosecution case. More than a century after Paul, texts continue to affirm that it was illegal to imprison a Roman citizen without trial (or, in the case in Fronto Ad M. Caes. 5.27 [42], against the decision of the other tribunes). The evidence suggests both that it happened and that it could have consequences if persons of influence raised protests in the right circles; magistrates in Philippi apparently valued the city’s close connection with Rome too much to ignore the law.
(2) Begging Them to Leave (16:39)
The officials could disbelieve Paul and demand evidence, but given his raising of the issue after they have already decreed his release, his claim is credible; they would not expect one to lie at this point, unless the person was a complete fool. Now Paul appeared not as a fool but instead as a proud person of honor who preferred to endure beating and then recoup his honor by publicly shaming the foolish authorities! At this stage, asking him to prove his citizenship would simply prolong their public embarrassment (while awaiting documentation from Tarsus, unless Paul has documentation at Lydia’s home, which is not as likely) if he turns out to be telling the truth. It is more expedient to take him at his word and urge him to leave without further complications.
A “secret” expulsion (Acts 16:37) would simply “reinforce the formal degradation”; Paul demands instead “a significant status transaction,” with the officials humbling themselves to escort them out in full public view.[2352] If, as seems likely, the prison was close to the forum, the magistrates humbly escorting out those they had beaten the previous day would reverse some of the status degradation the apostles had experienced.[2353] Whatever Luke’s audience may have known of Philippi (which, as suggested, may be one of the cities whose churches Luke had in mind in conceiving of his target audience), it is of interest that Philippi displayed an especially lavish interest in status and public honor, perhaps even more than most other Greco-Roman cities.[2354]
Luke’s narrative artistry does not obscure his historical material. Despite Luke’s positive and almost humorous twist, his audience would probably recognize this concession as less than full vindication if they pondered it. The crowd was smaller and this “vindication” was far less explicit than the public charges; shame remains (1 Thess 2:2), probably as in the case of someone today stung by a false newspaper report seen by many who may have missed the newspaper’s later retraction. But word would spread, and not everyone participating in the previous day’s shouting would feel personal commitment to opposing the movement; many might not even draw the connection between the movement and those beaten in the forum. When reproached, local Christians could appeal to “public knowledge” that their foreign founders turned out to be innocent after all. Some vindication was better than no vindication, in any case.
The entreaties to leave are now insistent requests or pleas rather than demands, suggesting a reversal of status in the situation. Part of the authorities’ desire to secure the apostles’ departure may be to prevent the situation’s escalation, as some scholars suggest. The people would be confused, and some would be angry, perhaps making it more difficult (as the Western text suggests) to protect the apostles.[2355] But the magistrates probably especially desire their hasty departure to minimize their own embarrassment and potential consequences for themselves.[2356] They escort them personally out of the prison (as requested in Acts 16:37), but to do more than this would require them to lose face themselves. Once the missionaries left town, however, Roman opponents, such as the slave girl’s owners, may have renewed their opposition toward Paul and Silas’s allies to keep from losing face as well. (Friendship networks created alliances and hence shared enmity networks.)[2357]
Although Luke puts a good face on Paul’s suffering in Philippi (contrast the less comic notes in Phil 1:30; 1 Thess 2:2), preferring to end happily (a pattern with Luke, who ends Acts on a positive note in 28:30–31), we cannot doubt that Paul was released in some way. Paul did, after all, continue his ministry and started a church in Thessalonica, farther along the same road. Though expelled from the city, Luke’s Paul will also remember the invitation of “a certain Macedonian” to come help them (16:9).
IV. LEAVING PHILIPPI (16:40)
Although accommodating the officials’ request to “go away” (16:39), Paul and Silas first “go in” to Lydia’s home (16:40), not intimidated (cf. 14:20; 18:18; 20:1). Given the presence or rapid gathering of believers at Lydia’s home, we may assume that she was now hosting a house congregation. As she once “exhorted” Paul’s company to stay with her (16:15), Paul and Silas now exhort Lydia’s group of believers, probably to stand firm in the faith (as in 14:22; cf. 11:23; 20:2).
Lydia would probably not invite direct persecution, partly because her trade was useful but perhaps also partly because of her gender. Persecution was less often directed against women (see further comment on Acts 8:3), and women could also get away with bold acts and speech that men would not dare. Thus, in one story, when Alexander sold thirty thousand Thebans into slavery (Plut. Alex. 11.6), a noble captive killed the Thracian officer who raped her (12.1–2), and Alexander, impressed with her defiance, freed her (12.3); later he protected and provided for Darius’s mother, widow, and daughters (21.1–3).[2358] See comment on Acts 8:3. The manner of the missionaries’ departure here might also help (Acts 16:39–40), although ultimately believers in Philippi faced some conflict (Phil 1:30; probably less than in Thessalonica, 1 Thess 1:6; 3:4).
That Paul and Silas visited Lydia and others[2359] shows that Paul has the upper hand in terms of honor—at least for the local Christians and Luke’s audience. Paul displays the same courage and tenacity as when he returned briefly to Lystra immediately after being stoned (Acts 14:20). The magistrates ask Paul and Silas to leave immediately (16:39); the missionaries finish their business first, including explaining the new situation to the church.[2360] They would at least need to stop by Lydia’s home to gather their few possessions[2361] as well as to pick up Timothy (if the absence of the “we” is any indication, and it is argued above at Acts 16:10 that it is, Luke apparently remained in Philippi; perhaps at least one member of the party needed to remain behind and offer instruction).[2362] That they greet the “brothers” implies that they have won converts in addition to the women whom they originally met (16:13, 16).[2363] This fits what we read in Philippians (cf. Phil 4:3), suggesting that even in Philippi, where Luke’s report is particularly detailed, Luke has abbreviated much of his material.[2364]
Paul and Silas, however, have not demonstrated a high degree of resistance to the officials’ request. That the apostles leave so quickly after visiting Lydia and the others, acceding this much at least to the magistrates’ request (Acts 16:39), “implies that there was some face-saving on both sides,” especially on the level of the events behind the narrative.[2365] Paul certainly did not have fond memories of the event when he reached Thessalonica shortly afterward (1 Thess 2:2).[2366] Luke himself does not report Paul’s returning to Philippi until Acts 20:1–6, some years later. Luke naturally wishes to emphasize the positive side of what happened, fitting the usually upbeat character of his narrative (with its emphasis on the gospel’s unstoppable progress), just as he completes his narrative before Paul’s death. But neither would Luke wish to portray Paul and Silas disobeying officials, and so their hasty departure, and not just the limitation in their compliance, makes sense in terms of his narrative purposes.
There can be no question historically which way they headed, and on which road they left, when they departed Philippi, following the Via Egnatia westward. If the prison was located near the forum, as is likely, they would have walked (had they not had the detour to Lydia’s home) perhaps 1,300 feet (400 m.) to the city’s western gate. The Via Egnatia quickly ran north alongside the Krenides stream to avoid a marshy area, then crossed the stream westward across Philippi’s plain to the Gangites River. A Roman arch, probably from the first half of the first century, stood over the road east of the Gangites.[2367] Although the present road was originally a Roman military road, Paul may well have known that it lay on the same route by which Xerxes invaded Greece.[2368] This road was the primary land conduit between “Europe” and “Asia,”[2369] and now the Asian missionaries were pressing farther into Europe (see comment on Acts 16:8–9). The Macedonian cities of Apollonia, Amphipolis, and Thessalonica lay ahead on this road (see 17:1).
4. Ministry in Thessalonica and Beroea (17:1–14)
Paul’s experiences in Thessalonica and Beroea are meant to be read together. Although Paul’s epistles tell us much more about the church in Thessalonica, the two paragraphs in Acts are parallel in how they begin and in the groups summarized as responding (17:4, 12). These paragraphs go on to juxtapose contrasting responses to Paul’s ministry, a contrast Luke makes explicit in 17:11.[2370]
a. Ministry in Thessalonica (17:1–9)
As on his first mission, Paul continues to reason from the Scriptures but also continues to face Jewish opposition (though in Thessalonica far more than in Beroea). A common pattern in Luke-Acts appears here: just as Jewish leaders delivered Jesus to Gentiles, so often (albeit not always) in Acts resentment from parts of the Jewish community causes Paul problems with Gentiles as well. As with Jesus (Luke 23:5) and Paul later (Acts 24:5), Paul is accused here of sedition (17:6–7).
Although Paul and Silas face a pattern of continuing hostility in Macedonia (in Thessalonica as in Philippi), they are not deterred from their mission. Their activity fits Luke’s (and for that matter, the epistolary Paul’s) theology concerning Spirit-inspired bold preaching even in the face of persecution (e.g., Luke 12:4–12; 21:12–15; Acts 1:8; 4:8, 31; 5:32; cf. Phil 1:12–13), including in Paul’s own brief recollection of his ministry in Thessalonica (1 Thess 1:5–6; 2:2, 13).
Luke’s brevity in reporting about the church in Thessalonica is more likely due to his interest and his space and subject constraints than to a lack of available information; the testimony about the Thessalonian church was apparently widespread, even beyond Macedonia and Achaia (even if 1 Thess 1:7–9 is hyperbolic). Certainly, if Luke or his “we” source was in Philippi at this time, he would have had access to some further information, and if his ideal target audience is partly in Achaia and Macedonia, they would have had some knowledge about this church. Luke apparently presupposes such knowledge, mentioning one “Jason” (Acts 17:5) without explanation as if this person was already familiar to the ideal audience that he takes for granted.[2371]
Some knowledge about Thessalonica helps modern readers appreciate better Luke’s narrative; for discussion, see comment on Acts 17:1; for religions there, see comment on Acts 17:4.
I. COMPARING THE THESSALONIAN CORRESPONDENCE
In view of the range of approaches employed in ancient historiography, comparison with Paul’s Thessalonian correspondence helps us evaluate how Luke pursued his historical task.
In examining the historical questions, this discussion focuses its attention on 1 Thessalonians, but it will also appeal at points to 2 Thessalonians, despite the rejection of its authenticity among many scholars.[2372] Most persuasive to me in favor of the latter’s authenticity is the extreme unlikelihood that any writer would speak of a man of lawlessness seated in the temple after its destruction in 70 C.E. Most pseudepigraphic works were authored long after the purported author’s death (though 2 Thess 2:2 does imply that some forgeries already existed).[2373]
Paul’s occasional mention of ministry in 1 Thessalonians corresponds with several points also mentioned by Luke. To avoid arguing from silence (as those inevitably do who complain that one source omits something included in the other), especially given the occasional nature of Paul’s letters and the brevity of Luke’s report about Thessalonica (Acts 17:1–9), I highlight only the parallels below (see the table on p. 2534). There are, however, differences as well. The most significant differences are Luke’s emphasis on Jewish opposition and that Paul seems to presuppose a longer stay in Thessalonica than Luke reports.
Riesner’s comparisons are more detailed and more optimistic. Of twenty-five details in Acts, most (eighteen to nineteen) of them “are either directly or indirectly confirmed by 1 Thessalonians.” Luke has some independent details, of which “four can be checked” by external means and two are possible; using minimalist criteria, four of his details appear questionable “or one-sided,” but “none of them is impossible. On the whole,” Riesner concludes, “these are quite admirable findings for an ancient historian.”[2374]
Comparing Paul’s Correspondence and Acts
1 Thessalonians
Acts 17:1–9
The church knows Silvanus and Timothy (1:1)
Luke implies the presence of Silas (17:10, 14) and Timothy (17:14)
Converts turned from idols (1:9)
Converts included Gentiles (though many were already God-fearers; 17:4)
Paul preached eschatology (1:10; cf. 3:13; 4:13–5:11, esp. 5:2), possibly including the kingdom (1 Thess 2:12; cf. 2 Thess 1:5) and a royal parousia (1 Thess 2:19; 3:13; 4:15;
*
5:23; 2 Thess 2:1, 8)
Paul was accused of preaching “another king,” Jesus (17:7)
Paul came to Thessalonica from Philippi, where he suffered shame (1 Thess 2:2)
They left Philippi under duress (16:40) and, after traveling through two other towns en route, reached Thessalonica (17:1)
Paul spoke boldly but faced much opposition (2:1–2), perhaps accused of being a charlatan (2:3–11)
†
They encountered opposition (17:5–9), including false accusations of being politically subversive (17:6–7)
‡
The church had to suffer publicly (17:7, 9), though Paul’s situation was more severe (17:10)
Some Jewish people have proved hostile to the Gentile mission (2:16)
Paul faced Jewish opposition (17:5)
Satan thwarted their return (2:18); it was safe for Timothy to return but not for Paul (3:1–2)
The politarchs’ decree against Paul made his return dangerous until they left office (17:8–10)
Unemployment was a major local problem (4:11–12; 2 Thess 3:6–12)
Unemployed men from the marketplace constituted a local problem (17:5)
*
The connection with “meeting” in 1 Thess 4:17 confirms the likelihood of this sense of parousia (Best,
Thessalonians
, 199; Bruce,
Thessalonians
, 102; idem,
Books
, 68–69; Marshall,
Thessalonians
, 131; see further comment at Acts 28:15).
†
See here Malherbe, “Gentle as Nurse.”
‡
It
might
even relate to some dying (1 Thess 4:13), though this is questionable.