[402] . Juv. Sat . 3.62.

[402] . Juv. Sat . 3.62.

[401]. See, e.g., Pliny E. N.H. 6.29.112–6.31.141. Still, Parthians were called “barbarians” (e.g., Dio Chrys. Or. 72.3; Jos. Ant. 14.343; War 1.264).

[402]. Juv. Sat. 3.62.

[403]. Trans. H. Rackham in LCL, 2:5; see also Warmington and Hornblower, “Europe.” Pliny the Elder wrongly viewed Europe as only a bit smaller than Asia and Africa combined in N.H. 6.38.210 and as roughly half the world in 3.1.5.

[404]. See Balch, “ΜΕΤΑΒΟΛΗ ΠΟΛΙΤΕΙΩΝ,” 152–53, 186. It was not without reason that in the heyday of historians wrongly calling mystery cults “oriental,” Nock, “Vocabulary,” 136, pointed out that Christianity was more “Oriental” in character than the Mysteries.

[405]. It was also more successful than the failed Persian invasion under Xerxes; it was not, of course, a military invasion but a cultural infiltration, an approach successful in the past (Hellenistic culture, though maintaining Greek as its dominant element, included cultural fusion).

[406]. Cf. postcolonial observations about the implications of a cruciform life and message in an imperial context, e.g., in Horsley, “Introduction,” 6 (cited and apparently followed by Moore, “Empire,” 12); Lopez, “Visualizing,” 91. Niang, “Seeing,” 170, contrasts Greek and Roman approaches to imperialism. For some recent sources on postcolonial interpretation, in addition to the several cited in Keener, Acts, 1:40n201, see those listed in Barreto, Negotiations, 46–47n67.

[407]. The Pamphylians also claimed to be descended from Trojan refugees of the Trojan War (Strabo 14.4.1, 3; Hdt. 7.91). Such appeals allowed groups to define a history for themselves in the dominant historical literature of Greece, yet with a different perspective that challenged Greek chauvinism. Rome’s victories in Asia in 190 B.C.E. strengthened its interest in this myth (Mannsperger, “Troy,” 972). Meanwhile, some Romans apparently eventually reacted against Greek valorization of the Macedonian Alexander (see discussion in Asirvatham, “Fervor”).

[408]. On the ideological significance of Troy in the relationship between Greece and Rome, see now also Erskine, Troy.

[409]. Conzelmann, Acts, 127; Schille, Apostelgeschichte, 337. Antiochus surrendered Alexandria (Troas) to Rome after his defeat (Polyb. 21.13.3; 21.14.2); in 85 B.C.E., a Roman usurper betrayed Ilium’s trust (Appian Hist. rom. 12.8.53).

[410]. See Hemer, “Alexandria Troas,” 91–92; cf. 101–2.

[411]. Cf. Bowers, “Route through Mysia,” more strongly.

[412]. Witherington, Acts, 479, notes the latter point against Bowers.

[413]. Could the “open door” refer to a lifting of a previous prohibition for ministry (Acts 16:6–7)? Paul, however, uses the expression elsewhere (1 Cor 16:9; Col 4:3), and Luke uses it in Acts 14:27, not here. From the tradition in 2 Tim 4:13, Blaiklock, Cities, 38, thinks that Paul was later arrested in Troas.

[414]. Hemer, “Alexandria Troas,” 92–93.

[415]. Note the persistence over decades of the Greek-speaking membership and leadership of the churches in Rome.

[416]. Witherington, Acts, 53n193; but he believes that Luke was either a Diaspora Jew or a synagogue God-fearer (54).

[417]. Would Paul have taken a completely new convert in the mission to Philippi? (When he takes Timothy, the latter’s conversion apparently stems from Paul’s earlier mission.) Would a new convert be among the interpreters of Paul’s dream in 16:10? Then again, we do not know how long Paul stayed in Troas and thus how long he could have mentored a new convert. Would Luke have embraced the message about Jesus elsewhere before meeting Paul in or near Troas, perhaps at a synagogue (cf. possibly Phrygia in 2:10)? It is difficult to say, but the beginning of the “we” in Troas suggests that he joined the group sometime after their arrival there. Conversion through Paul’s ministry thus appears likelier than not, yet remains uncertain.

[418]. Apollonius allegedly talked with Achilles’s ghost all night in Troy, though this was not a dream (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 4.11).

[419]. Dunn, Acts, 218, mentions this as “a pleasing speculation (with a long pedigree)”; also idem, Beginning, 668–69 (emphasizing that it can be no more than speculation); elsewhere, e.g., Blaiklock, Acts, 123–24; Christensen, Canon, 59. Luke’s usage could prime some of this expectation of a particular character here. When linked to nouns involving persons (rather than more generically as in 5:24, 25; 10:23; 15:1; Luke 9:23, 49, 57; 18:9), “certain” usually specifies a previously unidentified particular person or persons (e.g., Acts 3:2; 19:1; Luke 7:2; 8:27; 10:25; 14:1, 2; 18:18, 35; 22:56), usually named in Acts (Acts 5:1, 34; 8:9; 9:10, 33, 36, 43; 10:1, 6; 16:1, 14, 16; 18:2, 7, 24; 19:24; 20:9; 22:12; 24:1; 25:19; Luke 1:5; 23:26). In this case, however, Luke may simply introduce a new character with no further mention in the narrative; cf. also application to hypothetical characters in Luke 10:30, 31, 33; 12:16; 13:6; 14:16; 15:11; 16:1, 19–20; 19:12.

[420]. Barclay, Acts, 122. For εἰδωλοποιία, attributing speech to those now deceased, see Hermog. Progymn. 9, “On Ethopoeia,” 20; Aphth. Progymn. 11, “On Ethopoeia,” 44–45S, 34R.

[421]. Though later Platonists insisted that divine apparitions remained nondescript (Proclus Poet. 6.1, K114.3–4), beings in epiphanies generally assumed their familiar forms (Graf, “Epiphany,” 1122), and Alexander statues were apparently common in antiquity (Libanius Descr. 27.2). Indeed, two of the rare mentions of Macedonia in the LXX include Alexander (1 Macc 1:1; 6:2).

[422]. E.g., Hom. Il. 23.65, 83–85; Eurip. Hec. 30–34, 703–6; Plut. Sulla 37.2; Br. Wom., Mor. 252F; Pliny Ep. 7.27.5–11; ʾAbot R. Nat. 40 A; see comment in the excursus on dreams at Acts 2:17–18 (Keener, Acts, 1:911–16).

[423]. Quint. Curt. 3.3.2–3.

[424]. On Alexander, see concisely Pearson, “Alexander”; Badian, “Alexander”; Koester, Introduction, 1:6–12; more fully, e.g., Wilcken, Alexander. For his less famous successors, see, e.g., Thompson, “Diadochi.” For abundant writings concerning him, see, e.g., Arrian Anabasis of Alexander; Ps.-Callisthenes Alexander Romance; Plut. S. Kings, Alexander, Mor. 179D–181F; Fort. Alex., Mor. 326D–345B. Many of the stories circulating concerning him were, however, untrue (with Strabo 11.5.5; 11.6.4). Augustus reportedly paid homage to his sarcophagus (Suet. Aug. 18.1); as son of Zeus, he conquered most of the world (Men. Rhet. 2.3, 388.8–9).

[425]. Cf., e.g., Diod. Sic. 17.51.1–2; Plut. Alex. 2.2–3.2; 27.5–11; 28.1; Arrian Alex. 7.29.3. See further the excursus on “divine” humans at Acts 10:25–26 (Keener, Acts, 2:1782–86).

[426]. E.g., Plut. S. Kings, Pytheas, Mor. 187E. For Alexander’s own supposed doubts, see Plut. Alex. 28.3; Flatt. 25, Mor. 65F.

[427]. An ideal governor could be a “second Alexander” (in epideictic rhetoric, Men. Rhet. 2.14, 426.23–24); impostors had also put themselves forward as new Alexanders (Lucian Book-Coll. 20). Some compared Germanicus’s tragic death with that of Alexander (Tac. Ann. 2.73).

[428]. Especially Diogenes, in, e.g., Val. Max. 4.3.ext. 4a; Plut. Alex. 14.2–3; Dio Chrys. Or. 4 (esp. 4.1, 3); Arrian Alex. 7.2.1; Diog. Laert. 6.2.32, 38, 60, 64, 68; also Crates in Diog. Laert. 6.5.93. For complaints about Alexander’s enslavement to glory, see Dio Chrys. Or. 4.4–5, 51, 60, 84, 118; for his failure to conquer his own emotions, see Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 113.29–31.

[429]. Especially Simeon the Just (Pesiq. Rab Kah. 4:9); cf. his dialogue with the elders in b. Tamid 32a. On Alexander and Judaism, see Marcus, “Alexander.” Alexander usually appears favorably in Jewish sources (Stoneman, “Traditions”; e.g., 1 Macc 1:1–4 [except for pride]; b. Sanh. 91a; Yoma 69a), though Jewish legends about the meeting may be fictitious (see Goldstein, “Alexander”), and he is also portrayed as valuing gold above human life (y. B. Meṣiʿa 2:5, §2; contrast Pesiq. Rab Kah. 9:1), not being the son of Zeus (Sib. Or. 5.7), and otherwise viewed negatively (Sib. Or. 3.381–87). A late Amora attributes to him special powers (y. ʿAbod. Zar. 3:1, §3) and dominion over the earth (Num. Rab. 13:14). He heeds wise kings in Pesiq. Rab Kah. 9:1; Lev. Rab. 27:1.

[430]. If Luke were simply inventing names and places, this could have been the place for him to mention a Philip (more than Acts 6:5; 8:5–40; 21:8), also fitting “Philippi.”

[431]. Stuckenbruck, “Angels of Nations,” 31. In the dream in Dan 2:39–40, one of the kingdoms (from the standpoint of first-century interpreters, perhaps the kingdom of bronze) is part of a man (if bronze, then in 2:32, its belly and thighs); 10:20 explicitly refers to an angel as a prince of Greece (here Alexander’s kingdom). Bede Comm. Acts 16.9 (Martin, Acts, 199) applied the “legate” here to the angel of Macedon.

[432]. Philo speaks of “powers” as mediatorial manifestations of God, similar to Stoic (Diog. Laert. 7.1.147) or later Platonic (Rutenber, Doctrine, 17; cf. Wolfson, Philo, 1:217–26; Dillon, Middle Platonists, 161; as the background for Paul, Forbes, “Principalities”; idem, “Demonology”) thought; e.g., Philo Unchangeable 109–10; Conf. 136ff., 171, 174–75; Heir 170; Flight 69; Spec. Laws 1.47, 209; 4.187; QG 20; QE 2.18, 45, 65, 68. They seem to move between being attributes and being beings. In Jewish mysticism, cf. Scholem, Gnosticism, 33.

[433]. Jub. 15:31–32; 35:17; Mek. Shir. 2.112ff.; b. Ber. 16b–17a; Yoma 77a; Exod. Rab. 32:3; Pesiq. Rab. 17:4; 3 En. 29:1; 30:1–2.

[434]. Jub. 15:31.

[435]. 1QM XIV, 15–16; XV, 13–14; XVII, 5–8; Kobelski, “Melchizedek,” 123. The later rabbis often described these spiritual powers’ specific hostility toward Israel (3 En. 26:12; Sipre Deut. 315.2.1; Gen. Rab. 77:3; 78:3 [keeping in mind that Edom often stood for Rome]; Exod. Rab. 21:5; Lev. Rab. 21:4; Deut. Rab. 1:22–23; Song Rab. 2:1, §3; 8:8, §1) and judgment (e.g., Pesiq. Rab Kah. 4:9, 27:2; Song Rab. 8:14, §1).

[436]. 1 En. 40:9 (Knibb; contrast Isaac); 61:10; 2 En. 20:1 (longer version); Test. Levi 3:8; Test. Job 49:2; 3 Bar. 12:3; Asc. Is. 1:3; 2:2 (but probably Christian material; cf. 1:4); Tg. Ps.-J. on Gen 11:8; in early gnostic texts, e.g., Apoc. Adam 1:4; Hypostasis of the Archons. Angels could also be designated with terms of military rank, especially Michael as Archistrategos (e.g., Test. Ab. 14:1–5, 10, 12; 15:1, 9, 11; 16:8 A). Carr, Angels, 40, questions whether any of the language precedes early Christianity, the best possibility being in 1 En. 61:10 (though the Similitudes’ date is uncertain). Lee, “Powers,” thinks that Paul derives such terms from Jewish apocalyptic tradition but others from gnosticizing traditions; Benoit, “Angelology,” thinks that he borrowed the language but did not deal with how evil angels became evil.

[437]. Stuckenbruck, “Angels of Nations”; Collins, “Prince,” 662–63; cf. Caragounis, Mysterion, 157–61; Cullmann, State, 68. For the LXX of Deuteronomy, see Russell, Apocalyptic, 244–49; Peake, “Colossians,” 479; Dodd, Bible and Greeks, 18–19.

[438]. E.g., Plut. Fort. Rom. 11, Mor. 324B (on the guardian spirit of Rome); Fronto Ad M. Caes. 3.9.2 (for tutelary deities of nations); cf. Mattingly, Christianity, 19; Toepel, “Planetary Demons”; spirits of places in Rives, Religion, 19. The picture of YHWH’s heavenly court (possibly demythologizing the seventy gods in El’s Canaanite pantheon) may suggest that the idea of guardian angels of the nations predates Daniel and Deuteronomy LXX.

[439]. Cities were often personified as women, or depicted as the city’s representative goddess (cf. Hengel and Schwemer, Between Damascus and Antioch, 125; Ford, Revelation, 277; Aune, Revelation, 920–22; Ezek 23:44; Rev 17:3–5; 21:2; Sib. Or. 3.469).

[440]. E.g., Gen 20:3; 31:24; 1 Kgs 3:5. There are also various symbolic dreams in which no particular individual speaks for God (e.g., Gen 37:7, 9; 41:1–7). A chief deity speaking in a dream carried more weight than other kinds of speakers (see Libanius Maxim 1.3).

[441]. E.g., Gen 31:11; cf. Matt 1:20. Also 4Q537 frg. 1, introductory line; 4Q544 1 10–14; 2 3–5. The angelic explainer of apocalyptic tours of creation also had an analogue in some pagan dreams (Val. Max. 1.7.ext. 6).

[442]. E.g., Gen 16:9–11; 21:17; 22:11, 15; Exod 3:2.

[443]. E.g., Plut. Caes. 69.5; Val. Max. 1.7.5; 1.7.ext. 3; cf. also apotheosized heroes (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 8.31). Pythagoreans provided a philosophic framework for dreams from the dead (Diog. Laert. 8.1.32); Josephus seems to view spirits of the dead as hostile (Isaacs, Spirit, 33–34), a threat perhaps implied in the Roman cult of the dead. Some specifically sought revelations from the dead (Philost. Hrk. 33.36; 43.11–16; Currid, Egypt, 222).

[444]. E.g., ʾAbot R. Nat. 40 A; Pesiq. Rab Kah. 11:23; y. Ḥag. 2:2, §5; Sanh. 6:6, §2.

[445]. Shelley, History, 156; Cagney, “Patrick,” 12.

[446]. Farahian, “Vision,” 198. Ancients did pay attention to the apparel of apparitions (e.g., Philost. Hrk. 10.5); but when Ammon appeared to Alexander in a dream wearing a Macedonian cap, it was only for effect (Ps.-Callisth. Alex. 2.13).

[447]. McRay, Archaeology, 277, 279.

[448]. E.g., Rev 17:5; 19:12–13; later, Gr. Ezra 4:31.

[449]. Dio Chrys. Or. 31.91–92.

[450]. Bruce, Acts¹, 311; Witherington, Acts, 480.

[451]. Bruce, Commentary, 327. For a concise survey of the history of Greece and Macedonia, see Watson, “Greece and Macedon.”

[452]. Charlesworth, Trade Routes, 115.

[453]. Riesner, Early Period, 293, though he emphasizes more heavily the mention of Greece and Macedonia, rather than Thrace, in Isa 66:19, which I think a very unlikely reason.

[454]. E.g., Pliny E. N.H. 4.10.39.

[455]. In light of the emphasis on other emotions in the surrounding narrative, the plea may have strong emotive force (cf. comment in Holgate, “Connections,” 152).

[456]. Spencer, Acts, 162. It is not impossible that Luke’s verb for “help” echoes the cognate noun in 2 Macc 8:20, where Macedonians received “help” from heaven (in one of just five or six passages in the LXX speaking of “Macedonians”), but this is not likely. The noun appears roughly sixty-seven times in the LXX (including seven times in 2 Maccabees), and Luke’s verb roughly one hundred times. The Gentile’s plea for help might echo the Gibeonites’ plea to Joshua’s army (“Help us”; Josh 10:6, countering the plea against Gibeon in 10:4); the two words “Help us” coincide exactly (only three times in this form in the LXX), but again the connection is not clear enough to offer much confidence (Luke could have reinforced the allusion with “come up” instead of “cross over,” though this language would have been problematic geographically).

[457]. On Luke’s apologetic for Paul, see Keener, “Apologetic”; idem, Acts, 1:223–24, briefly. The dream may also function as divine legitimation for the mission, as many scholars hold, though Luke’s audience may already affirm and appreciate the Macedonian mission.

[458]. Farahian, “Vision,” 199–200, counting this as a turning point in his ministry (but did he not have many missions?). It is possible that Paul’s probable discussions of the question of entering nearby Macedonia set the stage for his dream (Haenchen, Acts, 488), but this cannot be more than speculation.

[459]. Keener, Acts, 1:911–16. For dream guidance in various ancient sources, see, e.g., Eckey, Apostelgeschichte, 353–55 (citing, e.g., Cic. Div. 1.121; Resp. 9.571d–572a; Suet. Jul. 32–33; Hdt. on Xerxes); on Greco-Roman dream interpretation, see further Klauck, Context, 204–9; Pilch, “Dreams”; for literature on dream interpretation in antiquity (from Homer to Byzantine sources), see the survey in Vinagre, “Terminologie.”

[460]. See, e.g., Firth, Tikopia, 282. For claims of revelatory dreams, see, e.g., Sithole, Voice, 40, 157–58; reports of conversions through dreams, Tandi Randa, interview, May 23, 2012; follow-up correspondence, May 27, 2012; Pankau and Siemon-Netto, “Revolution,” 45; Trousdale, Movements, 13, 82, 133 (citing 40 percent of conversions in some circles), 149–50, 177–78. See further discussion in Keener, Miracles, 875–84.

[461]. Lanternari, “Dreams.”

[462]. E.g., Xen. Anab. 3.1.11; 4.3.8; Sil. It. 13.640–42; Max. Tyre 15.6; Philost. Vit. Apoll. 1.5, 9–10, 23; Hrk. 6.2; 45.7; cf. Apul. De deo Socr. 150 (the intermediary daimones); Fronto Eloq. 1.13 (the Fauns inspire prophecies and sleep).

[463]. As noted above, some sought these from the dead (Philost. Hrk. 33.36; 43.11–16; Currid, Egypt, 222).

[464]. See Frankfurter, Religion in Egypt, 158–59, for the pre-Roman period, and 162–69 in the Roman period. In antiquity, see also Husser, Dreams (and cf. Seow, “Context”), noted in Monson, “Kings,” 100.

[465]. Elsewhere in the ancient Near East, see, e.g., Aqhat (AQHTA 1, in ANET 150); Legend of King Keret (KRTA 1, in ANET 143); Pfeiffer, Ras Shamra, 45–46; Frankfurter, Religion in Egypt, 158–59; Jansen-Winkeln, “Healing Deities.”

[466]. E.g., the shrines of Aphrodite (Iambl. Bab. St. 9, in Photius Bibl. 94.75b) and Artemis (Strabo 4.1.4, here for spreading the cult). One might dream after sacrificing (Xen. Anab. 6.1.22).

[467]. E.g., Iambl. Myst. 3.3; Philost. Vit. Apoll. 4.11; Vit. soph. 1.25.536; 2.4.568; Max. Tyre 9.7. For healing shrines in Egypt, see Frankfurter, Religion in Egypt, 271.

[468]. E.g., Heliod. Eth. 10.3; Xen. Eph. Anthia 1.12; 2.8.

[469]. E.g., Pindar Threnos 7, frg. 131b (from Plut. Apoll. 35.120C); Val. Max. 1.7.1–8; 1.7.ext. 1–10; Plut. Cic. 44.2; the story of Epimenides of Crete (Max. Tyre 10.1; 38.3; cf. his long slumber in, e.g., Varro L.L. 7.1.3; Pliny E. N.H. 7.52.175 [doubting it]; Paus. 1.14.4; Alciph. Farm. 36 [Eudicus to Pasion], 3.38, ¶2); a hypothetical case in Hermog. Issues 64.16–22. Generally, see Bowersock, Fiction as History, 77–98 (citing, e.g., Galen 16.222).

[470]. E.g., for Clytemnestra (Aeschylus Lib. 32–36); Xerxes’s mother’s dream about Xerxes (Aeschylus Pers. 181–99); Cyrus (Xen. Cyr. 8.7.2); C. Gracchus (Val. Max. 1.7.6); Sulla (Plut. Sulla 37.2); Calpurnia for her husband Julius Caesar (Val. Max. 1.7.2; Vell. Paterc. 2.57.2; Suet. Jul. 81; Plut. Caes. 63.5; 64.3; cf. 68.2); Brutus (Plut. Caes. 69.5, 8) or Pompey (Plut. Caes. 42.1); a successful warning to Augustus (Vell. Paterc. 2.70.1); danger to novelistic protagonists (Xen. Eph. Anthia 1.12–13).

[471]. E.g., Dio Chrys. Or. 32.101.

[472]. E.g., Alexander (Quint. Curt. 4.2.17; Plut. Alex. 24.3; 41.3–4; 49.3; Arrian Alex. 2.18.1; Ps.-Callisth. Alex. 1.35; cf. Hermog. Issues 33); P. Scipio (Polyb. 10.4.5–10.5.5); Hannibal (Val. Max. 1.7.ext. 1; Sil. It. 3.168–71); Sulla (Plut. Sulla 9.4; 28.6); Pompey (Plut. Caes. 42.1); Caesar (Val. Max. 1.7.1); and others (Val. Max. 1.7.3).

[473]. Thus Dio Chrys. Or. 59.3 on Odysseus reconciling with Philoctetes.

[474]. Frankfurter, Religion in Egypt, 230; Klauck, Context, 64. In Philost. Vit. Apoll. 4.34 a dream guides Apollonius to Crete (Johnson, Acts, 286); in Plut. Alex. 24.3, a figure invites Alexander into Tyre. Serapis was said to speak regularly in dreams (Dio Chrys. Or. 32.12).

[475]. See Kim, “Dream.” Dreams degrading to an emperor could be deemed treasonous (Tac. Ann. 11.4).

[476]. Pliny E. N.H. 10.98.211. Others (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 2.37; y. Maʿaś. Š. 4:6, §5) also doubted the accuracy of dreams caused by wine; for further questions, see also the excursus on dreams and visions at Acts 2:17 (Keener, Acts, 1:911–16).

[477]. Pliny E. N.H. 10.98.212.

[478]. Pliny does accept the portent value of some dreams (e.g., Ep. 5.5.5).

[479]. Already Romans in the late republic exhibited more skepticism than in the middle republic (Harris, “Opinions,” noting the complexity of Roman views).

[480]. See Giangrande, “Dream” (suggesting that Xenophon followed such an approach in Anthia 5.8.5–9).

[481]. See Holowchak, “Lucretius.”

[482]. See Dodson, “Somniis.” On Josephus, see also Kim, “Dream.”

[483]. See Begg, “Dreams.”

[484]. As in Greco-Roman tradition; cf., e.g., Val. Max. 1.8.8 (an apparition).

[485]. E.g., Plut. Alex. 41.3; 49.3; Caes. 42.1; 68.2; Cim. 18.3–4; Demosth. 29.2; Philost. Hrk. 6.4, 7; Gen 46:2; Job 4:13; 20:8; 33:15; Dan 2:19; 7:2, 7, 13; cf. 4Q544 1 10; 4Q547 4 8. Greek tradition spoke of epiphanies both when people were awake and in dreams (Proclus Poet. 6.1, K110.24–25).

[486]. Dunn, Acts, 218, sees implied corporate testing of the vision here.

[487]. Ancients also sometimes depended on professional interpreters even for oracles (Aune, Prophecy, 44).

[488]. E.g., Aeschylus Lib. 37–41; Suet. Jul. 7.2; Artem. Oneir. passim; cf. other sources in Price, “Dreams.” In ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, see, e.g., Sarna, Genesis, 218–19; Butler, Dreams. Eurydamas interpreted dreams in Hom. Il. 5.150. Some dream oracles included wordplays, like some other oracles (Ps.-Callisth. Alex. 1.35).

[489]. See Dunand, Religion en Égypte, 124. Cf., e.g., someone paying two drachmas to some temple functionaries after a particularly troubling dream (Alciph. Paras. 23 [Limenterus to Amasetus], 3.59).

[490]. Walde, “Dreams,” 717. Even plebeians could also interpret the Sibylline oracles (Livy 10.8.2). One could also hear interpretations less expensively from diviners in the marketplace, despised as they were by the elite (Artem. Oneir. 1.pref.).

[491]. Arius Did. Epit. 2.7.11s, pp. 98–99.20–21.

[492]. Kitchen, Reliability, 350 (citing P.Beatty 3 recto, from the thirteenth century B.C.E. and echoing older texts); early second millennium, ANET 495.

[493]. On rabbinic dream interpretation, esp. in b. Ber. 55–57, see Koet, “Droomuitleg.”

[494]. A rabbi could also supernaturally discern different interpretations for different persons who had the same dream (y. Maʿaś. Š. 4:6, §5), and a single, polyvalent dream could have a variety of different interpretations (discerned by different interpreters), all accurate (twenty-four interpreters in b. Ber. 55b).

[495]. Plut. Alex. 18.4; cf. Dan 2:9; divergent interpretations in Quint. Curt. 3.3.4–5.

[496]. For false dreams from the gods, see, e.g., Vit. Aes. 33.

[497]. Pythagoras reportedly placed little faith in dreams concerning his deceased father (Iambl. V.P. 28.148).

[498]. Plut. M. Cato 23.4; Alciph. Farm. 2 (Iophon to Eraston), 3.10, ¶3 (the LCL note cites also Plut. Table 8.10, Mor. 734D). Magicians could also generate false dreams (Ps.-Callisth. Alex. 1.5–8, esp. 1.5, 8).

[499]. Cf. Miller, Convinced, 107; on the potential ambiguity of this dream and the human element in its interpretation, in view of the coming troubles in Macedonia, see Miller, “Dream” (esp. 147, 151–52).

[500]. For a concise annotated bibliography, see Green and McKeever, Historiography, 140–43; see also the various explanations for the “we” source in Dupont, Sources, 75–112, esp. 75–93.

[501]. With, e.g., Campbell, “Narrator,” 406. Porter, Paul in Acts, 42–46, defines the sections more narrowly (on the basis of the explicit presence of the “we”) as Acts 16:10–17; 20:5–15; 21:1–18; 27:1–29; 28:1–16. But if a companion was traveling with Paul at these points, he must have been in the same geographic vicinity with Paul for the entire sections noted above.

[502]. Some scholars explain Luke’s long stay in Macedonia by positing that he was originally from there (Witherington, Acts, 490; cf. also Filson, History, 231); this solution is quite plausible, but not at all certain (any more than we should assume that Paul was from Antioch because he stayed there so long). Some compare the “we” of Acts 16:10 with the tradition that Luke was from Antioch (Farahian, “Vision,” 199), but even if the latter tradition is correct (which I doubt), where Luke was from and where Paul met him (technically, Troas, 16:10) are distinct questions. Philippi’s famous school of medicine (Witherington, Acts, 490) may have attracted Luke before or after this trip if he was a physician.

[503]. With others, e.g., Dibelius, Studies in Acts, 136.

[504]. Luke sometimes focuses on Paul even when we know that others accompanied him; note the mention of only Paul’s movement in 15:41–16:1, even though Silas was with him (15:40).

[505]. That emotionally charged or traumatic memories are often preserved longer and more vividly (cf. Bauckham, Eyewitnesses, 331–32) fits both events in Philippi and the voyage to Rome, among others, although, in retrospect, the entire time of being with Paul might be highlighted.

[506]. With others, e.g., Hengel and Schwemer, Between Damascus and Antioch, 7; Neil, Acts, 22–23. For the rhetorical value of vividness, see, e.g., Rowe, “Style,” 143–44; Black, “Oration at Olivet,” 88; Anderson, Glossary, 34–35, 40, 43; historians often elaborated their material to achieve greater verisimilitude (see Wiseman, “Lying Historians,” 335–36, on enargeia), but in contrast to rhetoricians, Luke never gives detailed depictions of scenery or even settings.

[507]. So Campbell, “Narrator,” 386, citing, e.g., Barrett, Acts, 2:xxv–xxix; Fitzmyer, Acts, 98–103; Peterson, Acts, 17.

[508]. For fuller surveys of the range of views concerning Luke’s use of “we” in Acts, see, e.g., Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 185, 481–82; Lestang, Annonce, 48–58; more extensively, Wehnert, Wir-Passagen, 47–124.

[509]. Lüdemann, Christianity, 6.

[510]. See, e.g., Praeder, “First Person Narration,” 218; C. Williams, Acts, 22–30; Hanson, Acts, 24–27; Martin, Foundations, 68. Pelikan, Acts, 279 (citing Iren. Her. 3.13–14; see esp. 3.14.1) finds the “we” narratives helpful precisely in countering a Marcionite, exclusive emphasis on Paul’s testimony.

[511]. See Hillard, Nobbs, and Winter, “Corpus”; discussion in Keener, Acts, 1:231–33, 297–98.

[512]. A point emphasized in Keener, “Acts as Historiography.”

[513]. E.g., Pervo, Profit, 57; such a perspective need not logically follow from, but in view of ancient literary practice perhaps should follow from, Pervo’s understanding of the genre of Acts. Addressing a literary but not the historical question, Phillips, “Role Model,” 49–63, esp. 50, argues that regardless of the historical question, from a literary standpoint, it allows “Paul to become the primary role model for the readers of Acts”; the reader identifies with the “we” in Pauline, postapostolic times, far from the troubling “community of goods” in Acts 2:44–45; 4:32–35 (pp. 61–62); cf. Campbell, “We” Passages, for whom the “we” narrator helps validate Paul, functioning like Barnabas earlier (but then, why not cede this role to Silas [pace the lower estimate of him in 73n17]?). But while it is true that anonymous characters might facilitate reader identification (cf. Beck, Paradigm, 132–36; idem, “Anonymity”), this is simply not the primary purpose of first-person pronouns in histories, biographies, or other works expected to communicate largely factually. Jackson, “Conventions,” 24, emphasizes first-person usage in fiction, but his mention of the motive of vividness may be more important; in any case, fiction is not normally so sporadic in its use of “we” as Acts is (see discussion below).

[514]. Cf. Dibelius, Studies in Acts, 202–3 (though Dibelius accepts an eyewitness source and Lukan authorship, 135–37). Most now recognize, however, that ancient sources do not support the claim of such a literary convention (Pao, Isaianic Exodus, 22).

[515]. Haenchen, Acts, 490–91; Puskas, “Conclusion: Investigation,” 35–36. Even granted that such invitation to participate is possible from a reader’s standpoint (see, e.g., Tannehill, Acts, 246–47), this approach need not claim that the “we” is fictitious (Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, 101, 121–23, accepts both a literary function and the eyewitness claim).

[516]. Unreliable narrators were less common in antiquity than today (see Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 317, 480; Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, 169–70), except in comic works, such as some of Lucian’s parodies (A True Story; Icaromenippus; but Lucian writes tongue-in-cheek satire, not history) or Lucius early on in Lucian’s and Apuleius’s versions of the ass story (Lucian Lucius 4–5, 13–15; admitting the folly in retrospect, 56).

[517]. Haenchen, Acts, 490.

[518]. Conzelmann, Acts, 127. Oddly, he critiques Haenchen’s view because Silas and Timothy were with Paul elsewhere without the narrator’s shifting to first person, yet the same critique refutes his own argument.

[519]. E.g., the Cynic Epistles and Jewish apocalypses; for artistic reasons, also practice speeches in character. In some genres, however, false claims to authorship could constitute forgery. See the discussion in Keener, Acts, 1:273–74, 403.

[520]. This is also true, obviously, when fictitious first-person dialogue is employed in speeches (see Anderson, Glossary, 33, on Rhet. Her. 4.55, 65; Quint. Inst. 9.2.31; Dion. Hal. Thuc. 37). Autobiography was usually a nonfiction form, but first-person narration does appear in Achilles Tatius’s Leucippe and Clitophon (Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 69). Those who appeal to works such as apocalypses to justify pseudonymity in history inappropriately mix genres (see Keener, “Review of Lincoln”).

[521]. See also fictitious eyewitness claims in Merkle, “True Story,” 183–84; Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 371 (e.g., Plutarch Dinner of Seven Wise Men); the plainly ironic, “mock” narrator in Lucian Phal. passim. Many scholars think Damis (in Vita Apollonii) a fiction to provide Philostratus’s source (see Klauck, Context, 170), but even if so, this offers no justification for supposing that Luke would create a fictitious source yet leave it unnamed and covering only a few chapters (omitting significant matters such as Jesus’s ascension).

[522]. Fusillo, “Novel,” 840.

[523]. Chance, Acts, 16, compares Luke’s only occasional and implicit eyewitness claim to Lucian’s demand that good historians avoid “exaggerated” eyewitness claims (Hist. 28–29). Indeed, among historians, some narrators such as Xenophon intrude less frequently than others, such as Herodotus and Thucydides (Dewald, “Construction,” 98); but Luke does so even less frequently.

[524]. See fuller discussion in Keener, Acts, 1:62–83 (and, more broadly, 51–319).

[525]. E.g., Plut. Dinner 1, Mor. 146BC; 4Q537 (from Jacob); 1 Enoch; 4 Ezra; 2 Baruch; etc. (see discussion of pseudonymity in Keener, Acts, 1:236n105, 273–74, 403).

[526]. Bindemann, “Verkündiger,” anachronistically uses “we” passages in the apocryphal acts to establish genre (suggesting a “divine man” conception in this source).

[527]. A poet identifying himself or herself in a poem was normally the real author (Roberts, “Sphragis”). The narrator’s persona in the rest of Luke-Acts may not sound like that of an eyewitness (so Sheeley, “Narrative Presence,” doubting that the “we” sections change this perception much), but as argued here, ancients would take literally the occasional “we” claims. For the genre of Acts, see Keener, Acts, 1:51–319.

[528]. A rare exception is Test. Ab. 12:1 A, shifting from the narrative’s consistent third person to a single “we” and “me” (Abraham), possibly suggesting a source for the ascent narrative but more likely a mistake, whether in the original or in the manuscript tradition. The exception may prove more consistent in 1Qap Gen^ar and possibly Tobit (see Miller, “Redaction of Tobit”).

[529]. Porter, “ ‘We’ Passages,” 561; Keener, John, 125. Droge, “Anonymously,” 496, sees the author as implying without explicitly (and deceptively) claiming to be the narrator, “subtly, and perhaps even playfully” invoking authority without forgery. He proposes (509) a new category of “oblique pseudonymity” or “implied authorship”—essentially the very sort of claim I dismissed as obviously unparalleled in John, 125. The only “analogies” he can cite for this strategy (510) are an implicit claim to Pauline authorship in Heb 13:23 (a minority interpretation of that passage); an eyewitness claim in John 19:35 (which the majority of Johannine scholars today do take as an eyewitness claim, though scholars debate whether it is the author’s own; see discussion in Keener, John, 111–12, 1154–55); the Gospel of Peter, a much later work (510–11); and some examples in Lucian (512–13) that I do not find persuasive as analogies. The sporadic appearance of the first person is better explained by the historical narrator indicating his presence than a fictitious one doing so.

[530]. Porter, “ ‘We’ Passages,” 553.

[531]. Plümacher, “Wirklichkeitserfahrung,” as summarized in Campbell, “Narrator,” 387. Of course, even in fictional works, eyewitnesses carry more weight in the story world (Eurip. Iph. Aul. 1607), but this feature simply reveals how highly eyewitnesses were valued.

[532]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 388, citing Plümacher, “Wirklichkeitserfahrung,” 22, as well as Praeder, “First Person Narration,” 206–8, 210–14; Aune, Environment, 122–24.

[533]. Cf. Campbell, “Narrator,” 387–88.

[534]. Porter, Paul in Acts, 25 (for full critique, see 24–27); Porter, “ ‘We’ Passages,” 560.

[535]. Witherington, Acts, 481–82. If one tries to distinguish the first person singular of the prefaces from the plural uses in the “we” narratives (e.g., Marguerat, Actes, 19), it should be noted that such a distinction would not be assumed without good reason by ancient (or modern) readers, that the narratives employ a plural simply because others are involved, and that the preface may suggest at least some measure of personal investigation by the author into (and certainly thorough acquaintance with) at least the events of his first volume (Luke 1:3), which fit the travel to and in Judea in Acts 21–26. For the prefaces prefiguring the “we” narratives, see Cadbury, “ ‘We’ in Luke-Acts”; Dupont, Sources, 167.

[536]. With Porter, Paul in Acts, 26; Porter, “ ‘We’ Passages,” 560; Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, 112–13; Hemer, Acts in History, 321; deSilva, Introduction, 299; Bock, Acts, 13–14.

[537]. Haenchen, “ ‘We’ in Acts.”

[538]. With, e.g., Fitzmyer, Acts, 100–102; Witherington, Acts, 53–54; Hamm, Acts, 76–77; note autobiographic narration in Baum, “Wir- und Er-Stellungen.”

[539]. Nock, Essays, 828 (in reviewing Dibelius, see esp. 821–32; cited by various commentators, e.g., Maddox, Purpose, 7; Witherington, Acts, 59).

[540]. Nock cites A. Klotz as citing for this Polyb. 4.38.1, but he thinks it likelier “we Greeks” and views 1.79.12; 5.104.10–11; 11.31.6; 15.19.5; 24.12.4 (cf. 29.19.8) as lapses into straightforward speech (though we may note that the genuinely first-person references in these cases are mostly narratorial, in speeches, etc.).

[541]. Nock, Essays, 827–28. He finds Luke 1:3 still more convincing (828). Campbell, “We” Passages, 46, notes that historians usually described their participation in third-person terms; his own survey of their usage, however, indicates that they could use either (and Luke is not participating very actively, in any case).

[542]. Hengel, Acts and History, 66. Thompson, “Paul in Acts,” 429, also appeals to much of the same passage.

[543]. See Campbell, “Narrator”; Jackson, “Conventions”; Keener, John, 105; and discussion below.

[544]. On potential distinctions between authors and narrators (especially in modern texts) and for my argument against this occurring in the Fourth Gospel, see Keener, John, 111–12, 917–18, 1154–55. Campbell, “We” Passages, 45–46, 84, thinks that Acts’ author is anonymous (cf. also Pervo, Acts, 395); but given the dedication, Luke’s audience almost certainly knew his identity, and in the case of some other documents we may today lack the title (which could often identify the author, as in, e.g., Rev 1:1) that originally graced the outside of the scroll. Droge, “Anonymously,” 505, thinks it a “rare lapse of judgment” that Cadbury doubted the narrator’s anonymity, on the basis that Theophilus knew him; but I think Cadbury’s case much stronger (Droge takes “Theophilus” as symbolic; contrast the evidence cited in Keener, Acts, 1:657–58).

[545]. With Witherington, Acts, 482–83; for harsh critiques of historians for much lesser embellishments, see discussion in Keener, Acts, 1:118, 124–26 (and cf. 195). Cf. the parody of narratives with absurd and pervasive “we” claims in Lucian True Story 5–9.

[546]. Fitzmyer, Theologian, 11–16; Kent, Jerusalem to Rome, 15; Christensen, Canon, 39; cf. Puskas and Crump, Introduction, 108. From this we may infer that Luke remained in Philippi ca. 50–58 C.E.

[547]. Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, 114–17.

[548]. Ibid., 118–20.

[549]. Alexander, “Fiction and Genre,” 381. Although Acts fits some novelistic expectations (394–95), the realistic setting and prefaces point in a different direction (396–99).

[550]. Note the sources in the Gospel and the prefaces of both, and see the extended discussion (and summary of scholarly consensus) in Keener, Acts, 1:51–319.

[551]. Johnson, Acts, 296. Some have suggested biblical style in the “we” narratives, but this may be no more evident there than elsewhere in Luke-Acts (cf. Rosner, “Biblical History,” 78). Some argue that the author and “we” narrator may differ because of shifting narrators in Ezra and elsewhere (Wehnert, Wir-Passagen; for Ezra, see esp. 152–54; in Daniel, 154–58). The investigation is a worthy one and Wehnert’s approach valuable in that regard, but Acts is much more cohesively edited than are Ezra or Wehnert’s other examples.

[552]. See Keener, Acts, 1:223–24, 237, 384, 393, 400, 428, 445–49; idem, “Apologetic.”

[553]. Ingeniously, Robbins, “We-Passages and Sea Voyages”; idem, “Land and Sea.”

[554]. Often the “we” does appear in Luke’s travel narratives, but this is because the narrator lacks reason to mention his presence when the focus is on Paul; only when he participates in the action, which includes all the travel scenes where he is present, is there reason to mention himself.

[555]. See Barrett, “Paul Shipwrecked”; Fitzmyer, Theologian, 16–22; Hemer, “First Person Narrative”; Hemer, Acts in History, 317–19; see esp. Praeder, “First Person Narration,” esp. 217–18 and (countering Robbins’s specific parallel claims) 210–14.

[556]. See Keener, Acts, 1:51–319, esp. 62–83, and sources cited there.

[557]. Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, 112–13. A number of Robbins’s parallels (Story of Sinuhe, Journey of Wen-Amon, and Epic of Gilgamesh) are first person singular and derive from a very different culture and era. “We” naturally appears for a plural group in the fictitious Lucian True Story 1.5–2.47, but in contrast to Acts, this narrative is explicitly introduced as pure fiction in 1.2–4.

[558]. Praeder, “First Person Narration,” 216; T. Smith, “Sources,” 73; Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, 111–12; Fitzmyer, Acts, 101; Witherington, Acts, 483. Distinguishing these third-person voyages from Acts 27 because they were not “adventurous” falters, since 16:11–12 was also not “adventurous” (T. Smith, “Sources,” 73).

[559]. Aune, Environment, 124, cites Hom. Od. 5.291–473; Virg. Aen. 1.34–179; Lucian Posts (Dependent Scholars) 1–2; Philost. Vit. Apoll. 3.52–58; 8.15. A first-person sea-voyage narration appears in Hom. Od. 12.402–25, but because it belongs to a larger first-person narration.

[560]. Spencer, Philip, 248; Kurz, “Approaches,” 200; Aune, Environment, 124.

[561]. Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, 123–24.

[562]. Note the summary in Campbell, “We” Passages, 9. Thompson, “Paul in Acts,” 428, lists as examples Fitzmyer, Praeder, Thornton, and Porter. But see now Robbins, Beyond, 83–84.

[563]. E.g., Barrett, Acts, 2:xxvii–xxx (noting that most passages involve travel). Wedderburn, “ ‘We’-Passages,” thinks that Luke uses the “we” to identify his source, Paul’s traveling companion (through a disciple of this companion), where he knew that the companion had been present; but if this were the case, why would Luke use “we” instead of simply naming the source, as historians normally would have done? For full discussion of the itinerary view, see Dupont, Sources, 113–65.

[564]. See comment in Cadbury, Making, 60–61. Windisch viewed them as genuine rather than fictitious (“Tradition,” 304), though stemming from a postapostolic author (336).

[565]. E.g., Boismard and Lamouille, Actes, 1:21; Barrett, Acts, 2:xxvii–xxx; Porter, Paul in Acts, 10–46; idem, “ ‘We’ Passages” (a written source possibly from the author but probably not); Kee, Every Nation, 189–90; tentatively, Sterling, Historiography, 326–27. Wehnert, Wir-Passagen (as noted by Campbell, “We” Passages, 8), argues for information from Silas.

[566]. Foakes-Jackson and Lake, “Internal Evidence of Acts,” 158–59. Source criticism could be very speculative; e.g., MacGregor attributed the first sections of diary extracts to Proto-Acts (Morton and MacGregor, Structure, 41).

[567]. See Rebenich, “Historical Prose,” 313–14, esp. on Caesar’s Gallic War. Rebenich, “Historical Prose,” 307, thinks that Luke’s “we” passages reflect partly literary convention and partly Luke’s sources.

[568]. Mentioned in T. Smith, “Sources,” 72. Following Torrey’s stylistic analysis, Albright, Biblical Period, 95, argues that (with rabbinic tradition) Ezra (i.e., the author of the “Ezra Memoir”) was also the Chronicler. Albright (113n197) notes that this suggestion fits expectations for a small agrarian community where scholars were few.

[569]. For Timothy, see Dockx, “Compagnon de Paul?” (viewing this section as Luke’s editing of Timothy’s diary); for the possibility of Silas, see Boismard and Lamouille, Actes, 1:21.

[570]. T. Smith, “Sources,” 72.

[571]. Ibid.

[572]. On various uses of “we” in Paul’s own letters, see, e.g., Watson, Second Corinthians, 8; Thrall, 2 Corinthians, 105–7; Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 184; sometimes including and sometimes excluding his audience (Filbeck, “Problems”). Some regard the “we” as sometimes including coworkers (e.g., Murphy-O’Connor, “Co-authorship”; Milligan, Thessalonians, 132; Ellingworth, “ ‘We’ and ‘I’ ”; Müller, “Schriftstellerische Plural”; cf. Byrskog, “Co-senders,” doubting their literary collaboration); others deny any need for this recourse (Lyons, Autobiography, 14–15, though his data can be interpreted differently; 68–69); the literary plural for “I” was known (e.g., Dion. Hal. Demosth. 58; Milligan, Thessalonians, 131; Thrall, 2 Corinthians, 105; Cranfield, Romans, 1:65). But in any case, “we” never excludes the author.

[573]. With, e.g., Fitzmyer, Acts, 99–100; Dibelius, Studies in Acts, 104, 136 (“so similar in fact that we have no justification for attributing them to different authors”); Hanson, Acts, 21; Stagg, Acts, 24; Fusco, “Sezioni-noi”; Guthrie, Introduction, 122; Witherington, Acts, 483–84; tentatively, Packer, Acts, 3. On the lexical style shared with the “we” passages in the rest of Acts, see also Droge, “Anonymously,” 507.

[574]. Porter, Paul in Acts, 35, including n. 85. Porter is cited favorably in McDonald, Story, 89 (on authorship note caveats on 90n70, 92–94). I responded more briefly to Porter’s case in “Review of Acts in Setting.”

[575]. Porter, Paul in Acts, 36.

[576]. My first time reading the entire way through the Greek NT, I was detained at inordinate length by vocabulary in only two places: the nautical terms in Acts 27 and the economic language in 2 Cor 8–9.

[577]. Witherington, Acts, 53, following Hawkins, Horae synopticae, 185–89; cf. also C. Williams, Acts, 5–7.

[578]. Porter, Paul in Acts, 51–55.

[579]. This might seem especially the case for one who argued that the “we” narratives are too short to admit stylistic distinctions from the rest of Acts (an argument noted above). One could similarly distinguish sources in Acts 2:38 and 10:44–48, which differ in sequence or, if including the angelic revelation of 27:23, this revelation from both 16:9 and 18:9–10. Similar kinds of minute distinctions have been used to support dividing the parousia into two stages (in a traditional dispensational schema) or other implausible cases. Likewise, others have wrongly read semantic significance into John’s use of variation in his vocabulary (e.g., ἀγαπάω and φιλέω; ἀποστέλλω and πέμπω), but it is probably simple literary variation (cf. Keener, John, 244–46, 316–17, 324–25).

[580]. This is all the more relevant if, as Porter argues (Paul in Acts, 96), Paul performed only seven clear individual miracles in Acts.

[581]. Ibid., 55–58.

[582]. This is, of course, in my reading of that narrative (see comment on Acts 21:17–26), not Porter’s. One may also compare the sensitivity to anti-Semitism in Acts 16:20–21, in a period (if not an incident) where the “we” was present.

[583]. Porter, Paul in Acts, 58–60.

[584]. Cf. also the speech of Acts 28:17–20, 25–28, when the “we” was at least in the same city (28:16), and the speech material in Acts 22–26, again despite “we” being at least in Judea (21:18; 27:1). Luke was not likely to mention himself at the moment Paul is speaking! Porter requires “we” markers in such direct proximity that it is difficult for a speech to meet his criterion.

[585]. Porter, Paul in Acts, 35n85.

[586]. If one insists that these are different letters, whereas Acts is a single document, one could contrast eschatological depictions in Phil 1:23 and 3:21, assuming (as is likely) the unity of Philippians.

[587]. Porter, Paul in Acts, 33–34.

[588]. Todd, “Introduction,” 376, doubts Xenophon’s presence claimed in Xen. Symp. 1.1 because he nowhere places himself in the narrative, but Todd admits (376–78) that nearly all the characters are attested elsewhere and the discussion fits the events of the time depicted. More persuasively, many doubt Xenophon’s presence there because he was absent during some of this period (Kennedy, “Source Criticism,” 135); if one takes this view, this would constitute one of the rare exceptions. But no one doubts Xenophon’s presence during the journey depicted in the Anabasis.

[589]. Porter, Paul in Acts, 36.

[590]. Ibid., 37, claims that the “we” itself is evidence for a source, since no better explanation exists, but I believe that this answer begs the question by assuming what it purports to demonstrate (although Porter does offer other arguments for the source).

[591]. Possibly the claim in Iambl. V.P. 30.173 to have mentioned something earlier that, in fact, Iamblichus did not mention; but this claim could represent instead a simple lapse of memory.

[592]. Hemer, Acts in History, 315.

[593]. T. Smith, “Sources,” 70. See also, e.g., González, Acts, 4 (objecting to the unconvincing approach that treats material such as Luke’s “we” claim as if it would have remained indecipherable before the advent of modern code breakers).

[594]. Nock, Essays, 828; Hemer, Acts in History, 316.

[595]. Dupont, Sources, 167.

[596]. See Keener, Acts, 1:226–57, especially 250–57.

[597]. See, e.g., Dupont, Sources, 164–65; Fitzmyer, Acts, 103; Filson, History, 231; cf. Packer, Acts, 3.

[598]. With, e.g., Dupont, Sources, 167–68; Hanson, Acts, 23; as an autobiographic narration technique, see Baum, “Wir- und Er-Stellungen.” An authorial “we” or first-person-plural verb may mean “I” (e.g., Dion. Hal. Demosth. 58; perhaps 2 Cor 1:4), but it always includes the author, whether it includes anyone else or not.

[599]. With, e.g., Cadbury, “ ‘We’ in Luke-Acts”; Dunn, Acts, x; Spencer, Acts, 12–13; Green, “Acts,” 755.

[600]. Keener, Acts, 1:250–57.

[601]. See Keener, Acts, 1:229–30, 256–57; cf. related discussion in Hillard, Nobbs, and Winter, “Corpus.” By way of modern analogy, I am confident that if someone wrote the story of my life, it would include mention of (perhaps only briefly, depending on the author) but not reproduce my scholarly work; and even if I wrote an autobiography it would read quite differently than any of my commentaries. My time doing ministry on the streets or other experiences would likely interest the majority of readers more.

[602]. E.g., Hermogenes in Xen. Apol. 2 (with reminders that he is conveying another person’s report in Apol. 10, 14, 27); again Hermogenes in Mem. 4.8.4; more relevant, sources named in, e.g., Tac. Ann. 4.53; Suet. Otho 10.1; Plut. Otho 14.1.

[603]. Dion. Hal. Thuc. 6; cf. Jos. Life 357; Ag. Ap. 1.45–49, 56; perhaps Cic. Leg. 1.8. At greater length, see Aune, Environment, 81 (citing esp. Hdt. 2.99; Polyb. 3.4.13; 12.25g.1; 12.27.1–6; 12.28.1–5; 20.12.8; Lucian Hist. 47); Meister, “Historiography: Greece,” 421; Byrskog, History, 153–57; Schepens, “Aspects,” 113–16 (on Polybius’s appreciation for direct experience, “living informants,” and sufficient background knowledge for interpretation); cf. Plümacher, Geschichte, 85–108 (Luke validating his character as historian by portraying himself as present); Droge, “Anonymously,” 496 (“a deliberate literary construct” to link the preface’s “I” with the voice of the narrative). Second-century Roman historians were more apt to focus on events outside their experience than were earlier historical writers from the East (cf. Kemezis, “Absence”). Marguerat, Historian, 24–25, treats the claim as an appeal to legitimacy of a group to which the narrator belonged (but does not identify the author with the narrator). That some would suggest that Luke fictitiously claimed to be present to provide historical validation is problematic, since this approach insists on being more skeptical of Luke than of other historians with numerous correspondences with history, and it fails for the same reasons (such as the rare appearance of the author) as other fiction theories.

[604]. E.g., Polyb. 29.21.8; Corn. Nep. 25 (Atticus), 13.7; 17.1. Others also mention Polybius’s eyewitness testimony (Polyb. 39.2.2 [in Strabo 8.6.28]). Eyewitness testimony was also noted when one was reporting natural phenomena; Seneca the Younger often recounts various traditions but specially notes what he has seen himself (Nat. Q. 3.25.8). On eyewitness memory, see helpfully McIver, “Eyewitnesses,” 545–46.

[605]. E.g., Xen. Anab. 2.5.41; 3.1.4–6; Thucyd. 1.1.1; 2.103.2; 5.26.1; Polyb. 31.23.1–31.24.12; 38.19.1; 38.21.1; 38.22.3; Caesar C.W. passim, e.g., 1.1; Gall. W. passim, 1.7; 2.1; 3.28; 4.13; 5.9; 6.4; 7.17 (despite phrases such as “our own” and “our men,” 2.9); first person (when present, not at all important junctures) in Vell. Paterc. 2.101.2–3; 2.104.3; 2.106.1; 2.111.3–4; 2.114.1–3; 2.115.5; 2.121.3; 2.124.4. See more fully Keener, John, 918; the data helpfully surveyed in Campbell, “We” Passages, 28–42, 99–115; excursus below. A. M. Harmon, Lucian, LCL, 5:341n1, at Lucian Eunuch 10 thinks that Lucian mentioned his own participation but without naming himself (though this is unclear to me). Rabbis also could use roundabout third-person expressions for “I” at times (y. Ḥag. 2:1, §9; Ketub. 4:14, §1; Sukkah 5:1, §7; Šeb. 6:1, §9; Taʿan. 1:4, §1; 4:5, §11; cf. Isoc. Demon. 34; 2 Cor 12:2; Lyons, Autobiography, 69; Furnish, II Corinthians, 524).

[606]. See Machinist, “Voice.”

[607]. Plümacher, “Luke as Historian,” 398. This observation weakens the argument of Campbell, “We” Passages, 90–91, for the narrator as a narrative “character.”

[608]. E.g., Dupont, Sources, 164–65; Lightfoot, “Third Notebook on Acts,” 17 (from Witherington); Rackham, Acts, xv–xvii; Packer, Acts, 3; Neil, Acts, 22–23; Barclay, Acts, 6; Munck, Acts, xliii; Filson, History, 231; Thornton, Zeuge (as cited in Campbell, “We” Passages, 8); Arrington, Acts, xxxii; Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 66, 82; Fusco, “Sezioni-noi”; Hanson, Acts, 21–24; Spencer, Philip, 249; Hemer, Acts in History, 312–34; Martin, Foundations, 67–68; Hengel and Schwemer, Between Damascus and Antioch, 7; Barnett, Birth, 190–92; idem, “Paul,” 394; deSilva, Introduction, 299; González, Acts, 4; Pao, Isaianic Exodus, 22–23; Hertig and Gallagher, “Introduction,” 4–5; Bock, Acts, 13–14; Peterson, Acts, 17 (“most scholars”); Schnabel, Acts, 669; Gilchrist, “Eyewitness Reporting”; Kurz, Acts, 14–15, 251–52; cf. also others, cautious but apparently affirmative, e.g., Moffatt, Introduction, 294–97; Spivey, Smith, and Black, Anatomy, 241. The narrator’s presence is also the natural reading assumed by most translators (see, e.g., Wade, “Translating”). Campbell, “Narrator,” 386, notes the author and journal views of “we” as together the dominant position, although he himself demurs from this position.

[609]. Maddox, Purpose, 7. Cf. Keener, “Luke-Acts and Historical Jesus,” 617–19.

[610]. Much of this material is adapted from Keener, “Claims.”

[611]. Jackson, “Conventions” (1999), which I discovered too late to engage properly in my John commentary, offers an important contribution on this subject. In the 1990s (but finally published in 2003), I argued that “third-person authorial claims appear in antiquity alongside first-person ones” (Keener, John, 105), citing as examples Thucyd. 1.1.1; 2.103.2; 5.26.1; Xen. Anab. 2.5.40; 3.1.4–6 and passim, and noting that “Polybius uses first-person claims when he was an observer (e.g., 29.21.8) but prefers third-person when he is an active participant in the narrative (31.23.1–31.24.12; 38.19.1; 38.21.1; 38.22.3; cf. 39.2.2).” (Xenophon’s Anabasis might have a pseudepigraphic attribution, however, as noted by Jackson, “Conventions,” 28.)

[612]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 389. I focus on the article rather than his larger book (“We” Passages) because the article, published in JBL, received an extremely wide audience.

[613]. Although Josephus is the only historian of the three from the period of the early empire, Thucydides remained widely read, and he and Polybius provided prominent available models for later historians writing in the Greek East. Likewise, historians of the early empire such as Tacitus did make use of a narratorial “I” (cf., e.g., Hist. 1.51, 59; 2.8, 17, 27; 5.2, 10, 19).

[614]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 390–91 (citing, e.g., Thucyd. 4.104.4; 4.105.1), 393 (citing, e.g., Polyb. 28.7.8–13; 31.11.4–31.14.3), 402; for Polybius, see also Jackson, “Conventions,” 28.

[615]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 391 (by name in Thucyd. 1.1.1; 2.70.4; 5.26.1).

[616]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 398. Jackson, “Conventions,” 25, wrongly presents Augustine as the source of first-person usage in autobiography (unless he simply means that Augustine was the primary influence on the usage in subsequent autobiography).

[617]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 391 (following Michael Grant), 402, and 404 (on ancient historians’ third-person usage more generally); also, earlier, Jackson, “Conventions,” 25.

[618]. Jackson, “Conventions,” 27.

[619]. Ibid., 27–28.

[620]. Ibid., 28; see Gall. W. 1.7, 10–20, 22, 24–54; 2.1–2, 4–15, 17, 19–21 and passim. The narratorial first person, however, remains in some works emphasizing Caesar (Gall. W. 2.24; 4.16–17, 27; 8.10, 44, 47, 48), to whomever it may be attributed (cf. 8 pref.). First person plural in such works can refer to “we Romans” (e.g., Gall. W. 2.24).

[621]. E.g., Hdt. 1.5.3; 1.15; 1.18.2; 1.22.2; 1.57.1; 1.75.1, 3, 6; 1.92.1; 1.95.1; 1.106.2; 1.130.3; 1.131.1; 1.137.1; 1.140.1–3; 1.169.2; 1.170.1; 1.171.2; 2.18.1; 4.197.2; 5.4.1; 5.9.1, 3; 5.22.1; 5.35.3; 5.36.4; 5.54.1; 5.62.1; 5.65.5; 5.66.1; 5.86.3; 6.19.2, 3; 6.39.1; 6.43.3; 6.53.1–2; 6.55; 9.95; 9.101.1.

[622]. See Jackson, “Conventions,” 26.

[623]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 391–92 (citing, and arranging topically, Thucyd. 1.1.3; 1.20.1; 1.21.1; 1.22.1–2; 1.23.5–6; 1.97.2; 2.48; 3.90.1; 3.113.6; 5.26.5–6; 5.68.2; 6.2.1).

[624]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 392 (citing Thucyd. 1.13.4; 1.18.1; 7.87.5; 8.41.2). Probably working manually rather than with access to the TLG, Jackson, “Conventions,” 26, lists only two of these references.

[625]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 391–92; cf. 402.

[626]. Ibid., 392.

[627]. Ibid., 393 (noting on 394 Polybius’s emphasis in 3.4.13 that he was not just eyewitness but also participant). Whereas the narrator’s first person appears only five times in Thucydides, it appears about 678 times in Polybius (ibid., 394; cf. 403).

[628]. Ibid., 394. The far greater proportion of first-person usage on the narratorial level versus the event level is less important than the greater proportion of third- to first-person usage on the event level. Although historians usually indicate their presence in the third person within narratives (and therefore Luke’s preference for first- rather than third-person narration calls for comment below), that first-person usage appears far less often on the event level than on the narratorial level would not be surprising, in any case: most historians do not appear in most of their narratives.

[629]. Ibid., 394–95.

[630]. Ibid., 395.

[631]. Ibid., 396, puts it well: “literary and rhetorical aesthetics.”

[632]. Ibid., 395–96. Although not an actor within his history, Dionysius of Halicarnassus hastens to explain first-person usage in his introduction, noting that readers would not be pleased if he were praising himself (Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 1.1). On public distaste for self-commendation, see, e.g., Forbes, “Self-Praise”; Watson, “Boasting.”

[633]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 396, noting the mixing of the first singular and plural in 31.23.1, and then the first and third person in 31.23.2–3.

[634]. Ibid., 398.

[635]. Ibid., 399.

[636]. Ibid.

[637]. Ibid.

[638]. If Campbell’s distinction between singular and plural first-person usage holds for Josephus’s War—the quantity of evidence may be too limited to be certain, but the pattern is possible—it is less clear for the Antiquities (see the evidence cited in Campbell, “Narrator,” 401–2).

[639]. Nock, Essays, 827–28 (against a fictitious “we”).

[640]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 386. The narrator’s dependence on witnesses (Luke 1:2) is necessary for much of the narrative in Luke-Acts, especially the Gospel, but does not preclude identifying the same first person in Luke 1:3 with the first-person narration in Acts, which covers only a small portion of the narrative (focusing on Paul’s important custody); see here also Thompson, “Paul in Acts,” 428.

[641]. The first-person usage is thus “not chiefly a historical marker indicating the presence of the actual author of Acts or one of his sources” (Campbell, “Narrator,” 407, emphasizing a narrative role; the latter, however, need not be incompatible with a historical marker, since Luke is writing a history). Campbell himself concedes that his argument “does not mean that the author or his source could not have been an eyewitness,” only that this is not the primary point of the first-person usage (ibid., 406). Whatever Luke’s other literary intentions, however (and I am not primarily challenging Campbell on these points), a first-person claim does indicate the narrator as the subject of the verbs in question—in this case, verbs that claim the narrator’s presence.

[642]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 406.

[643]. Ibid., 386.

[644]. Ibid., 389, 396, 399, 401.

[645]. Ibid., 387.

[646]. Keener, Acts, 1:226–57, esp. 250–57.

[647]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 387, 404–6. Campbell does recognize that the first-person-singular usage in the prefaces associates the narrator with the “anonymous” author (405).

[648]. The earlier historian Herodotus names himself in the third person (1.1 pref.), but this was not a universal standard. For a survey of prefaces only, some historical prefaces identify their authors only by speaking in the first person singular (Livy 1.pref.; Arrian Alex. pref.; Tac. Ann. 1.1; Hist. 1.1; Hdn. Hist. 1.1.1–6); the account of the foreign wars attributed to Appian identifies him as the author (pref. 15), but his Bell. civ. does not; Tac. Germ. 1 does not name the author (though the first person singular in, e.g., Germ. 2, 46 implies that he is known); cf. also Xen. Anab. 1.1.1 (though Xenophon appears as an actor later in the work); Sallust Cat. 1; Jug. 1. Cf. also Moles, “Time,” 112, noting Marincola, Authority, 250–52, 273–75.

[649]. Among biographical prefaces, Diogenes Laertius does not name himself, nor does Tac. Agr. 1–3 (though his first-person-singular usage in Agr. 1, 3 and mention of Agricola as his father-in-law in Agr. 2 are plain enough); Suetonius cites the testimony of his father, whom he names (Otho 10) in a biography that does not open by identifying himself (Otho 1).

[650]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 400, noting that Josephus identifies himself there only as author of the War. This identification, however, confirms that Josephus’s audience knew his identity.

[651]. One might respond that these historians or biographers did not participate in action in the books (perhaps questionable, in some sense, at times, e.g., Tac. Hist. 1.1), but that observation would lack bearing on the question of whether a work that fails to name its author in the preface is thereby an anonymous work, since there are no other reasons for asserting Luke’s anonymity. Extended to other genres (to broaden the base of evidence), it is clear that authors’ not naming themselves in prefaces, or in fact anywhere in their work, does not make their works anonymous. If one protests that the author was already known, is implied in first-person usage, or was identified in a title on the outside of a scroll, one could offer the same hypotheses, if one wished, for Acts.

[652]. See discussion in Keener, Acts, 1:23.

[653]. In addition to discussions of authorship and audience in this commentary’s introduction, see, e.g., Thompson, “Paul in Acts,” 428; Jokinen, “Gospels,” 9.

[654]. Sometimes for aesthetic reasons, as is explicit in Polybius, and as Campbell, “Narrator,” 402, allows as possible for Josephus’s Antiquities.

[655].  Campbell, “Narrator,” 406.

[656]. Ibid., 400. The connection with Josephus’s people is explicit in Ant. 1.4; 20.259–60. Josephus does not appear at the event level in the Antiquities.

[657]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 402, also allows that Josephus’s somewhat greater variation of usage in this work might also be partly explained by literary aesthetics.

[658]. Ibid., 405. His observation of this function of the first person plural in Acts 16:17 (ibid., 407) is reasonable; certainly it has this effect.

[659]. See, e.g., discussions in Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 184–85; Jackson, “Conventions,” 12; Filbeck, “Problems”; Ellingworth, “ ‘We’ in Paul.” For an example of “we” meaning “I,” see Dion. Hal. Demosth. 58; probably also Eurip. frg. 1066 (from Stob. 4.29.40).

[660]. Far more than one hundred times, occasionally very generally for humankind (Acts 17:28), but normally as part of a people (e.g., Luke 1:74; 3:8) or any other group (e.g., Luke 3:10, 12, 14; 4:23, 34; 5:5, 26; Acts 2:32, 37). This is also the case when Paul refers to himself and one or more of his ministry companions (13:32, 46; 14:15; 15:36; 16:28), fellow believers (14:22), or fellow travelers (26:14; 27:26).

[661]. Although undoubtedly not deliberate in this case, the introduction of categories irrelevant to the point of the discussion is a logical fallacy frequently deployed in contemporary scholarship to reduce evidence supporting a position that the scholar wishes to dispute. In this case, the categories are relevant to some of Campbell’s discussion but not to his doubt that Luke’s “we” necessarily implies the narrator’s presence.

[662]. As noted above, Campbell, “Narrator,” 400, notes this group usage (on the level of narrator) in Josephus’s Antiquities. Elsewhere, e.g., the corporate perspective in Tac. Agr. 46. This is technically true even when the inclusion is merely a matter of editorial courtesy to diminish offense, as possibly in the corrected “we” of Tac. Hist. 1.1 (cf. Agr. 2).

[663]. I have not surveyed all of Diodorus, but he fairly often narrates in the plural (see, e.g., Diod. Sic. 11.56.1; 11.58.4; 11.59.1, 3, 4; 11.64.3; 11.89.1; 11.90.2, 3; 13.1.1; 13.104.8; 13.114.3; 14.2.3–4; 14.63.2; 16.5.4; 16.26.6; 16.40.4; 16.46.5; 16.50.8; 16.60.5; 16.64.3; 16.65.9; 16.93.3; 16.95.5; 17.1.2, 5; 17.5.1, 3; 17.6.3; 17.47.6; 17.63.5; 17.118.4; material after 10.18.6) and sometimes in the singular (16.26.1). This includes not only narration but on rare occasion a statement that suggests presence and research, as in 17.52.6. We should not expect to see him much as an actor on the event level.

[664]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 402.

[665]. Ibid., 406.

[666]. Ibid.

[667]. Ibid.

[668]. Ibid.

[669]. Ibid., 407, comparing this apparent practice in some other ancient sources.

[670]. Ibid.

[671]. Thompson, “Paul in Acts,” 428, follows Prince, “Review,” in critiquing Campbell’s idea of the “we” taking Barnabas’s place as a supporter, noting that “we” disappears when Paul needs support the most. See esp. Prince, “Review,” 5: why is the narrator chosen as the witness, in spite of other witnesses within the narrative, and why only during divinely directed travel and not during the conflicts? (The other RBL review, Racine, “Review,” is more positive and focuses more on summarizing the work.) We might also add that Silas replaces Barnabas far more clearly and consistently than the “we” could.

[672]. As many today recognize, historical and literary approaches need not be incompatible (see, e.g., Talbert, Mediterranean Milieu, 14–15; Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, 173; Klutz, Exorcism Stories, 16).

[673]. Even a third-person historical narrator could “lie or exaggerate” (Jackson, “Conventions,” 25); the point is that the norm and expectation for truth claims in factually based genres was that they be true. The exceptions are in ethopoeia, which is relevant in speeches but not in historical writing, or in a hypothetical “I” (such as 1 Cor 13:1–3), again, not relevant to historical writing (except where Israel speaks in the first person in some speeches, e.g., Deut 2:26–29; 26:5—again, not relevant to the present case).

[674]. See Keener, Acts, 1:226–57, esp. 250–57.

[675]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 403, particularly underlines author variation on the use of person at the narrator level, contrasting Thucydides and Polybius, although the differences are probably partly chronological. But some variation also exists at the event level within narratives, as noted above.

[676]. Ibid., 394–95 (on Polyb. 36.11.1–4; 39.8.1). Thompson, “Paul in Acts,” 429, also emphasizes this point—namely, that Polybius uses both third and first person partly for the purpose of literary variation—and that Polybius’s first-person narration, where it occurs, does include himself.

[677]. Vell. Paterc. 2.101.2–3; 2.104.3; 2.106.1; 2.111.3–4; 2.114.1–3; 2.115.5; 2.121.3; 2.124.4.

[678]. Herodotus sometimes notes his personal inquiry about or reception of accounts from his informants (e.g., 1.20; 1.51.3–4; 1.92.2; 1.105.3; 2.104.1; 3.55.2; 7.114.2) or suggests other research he did or when he himself was an eyewitness (e.g., 2.99.1; 2.127.1; 2.147.1; 2.148.1; 4.81.2; 4.195.2; 5.59; 6.47.1; negatively, 2.73.1). In most of these cases Herodotus’s use of first person does indicate his action and not simply his narrative perspective.

[679]. “We” measured in Hdt. 2.127.2; at the narratorial level, cf. 1.95.1; 6.55.

[680]. Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 1.7.3 (LCL, 1:23). He does have far more occasion to mention himself at a purely narratorial level (e.g., Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 1.1; 1.5.1; 1.6.5; 1.7.1; 1.8.1; 1.90.2; 2.47.3; 9.60.1; 9.71.4).

[681].  Diod. Sic. 17.52.6.

[682]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 398; see Jos. Life 1–3, 5–6, 8–17, 19–21, 27, 30–31, 41, 62–65, 68–70 and passim. Here Josephus sometimes identifies himself as part of a group or its experience with a first person plural (e.g., Life 15, 63); sometimes it may simply speak politely of Josephus himself (e.g., Life 22, 27–28).

[683]. E.g., Tacitus uses the first person in mentioning his relationship with his father-in-law, as noted. On biographies as historically related genres (because of their heavy dependence on information that was believed to be historical), see the sources noted in Keener, Acts, 1:56.

[684]. See Suet. Aug 7; Cal. 19; Otho 10; Dom. 12. In this case he was not risking self-commendation, since he was not an actor within the narrative.

[685]. See, e.g., Aul. Gel. 1.4, 11, 13, 15, 18, 21, 22, 23, 26; 2.2, 6, 7, 12, 13, 15, 16, 19, 20, 21; 8.sum. 10; 14.sum. 2; 15.sum. 25; etc. When Aulus Gellius was traveling with others in a group, he did not shy away from speaking of the group with the first person plural (nostros, 2.21.4).

[686]. Ezra 7:1, 6, 10–11; 10:1–2, 5–6, 10, 16. In this case, the first-person material may reflect a source, but first-century hearers would not necessarily assume this; at the same time, the mixed usage of Polybius could be relevant for the composition of Ezra, and is even more relevant for how a first-century audience would have heard the work.

[687]. In these cases Moses speaks as part of Israel, even in cases where he or some other individuals may not have specifically acted as a warrior (e.g., Deut 2:33–36). Moses nevertheless remains part of the group that acted corporately; in the case in Acts, the “we” narrator would not be part of the group that travels (especially given his sporadic mention of himself) unless he actually traveled with them.

[688]. For the first person, see Isa 6:1, 5–8, 11; 8:1, 3, 5, 11, 16–18 (a continuation of the same material that included third person in 7:3); possibly 24:16; 25:1; for the third person, Isa 2:1; 7:3; 13:1; 20:2; and the lengthy narrative unit in chs. 37–39.

[689]. For the first person, see, e.g., Jer 1:4, 6–7, 9, 11–14; 4:10; 5:4; 6:11; 10:23–24; 11:5–6, 9, 18–20; 12:1, 3; 13:1–3, 5, 8; 14:11, 13–14; 15:1, 10, 15–18; 16:1 and passim; for the third person, see, e.g., 7:1; 11:1; 14:1; 18:1; 19:14; 20:1–3; 21:1, 3; 25:1–2 and passim. While one cannot rule out the involvement of different editorial hands, it is possible that the author simply lacked concern for consistency, or even preferred variety. The most narrative portions may prefer third person, but even Jeremiah hearing from God is technically narrated on the event level.

[690]. First person in, e.g., Ezek 1:1, 4, 15, 24, 27–28; 2:1–3, 9–10; 3:1–4, 10, 12–16. Daniel appears in much of the book of Daniel in the third person, but in later sections he appears as narrator, with the two sometimes explicitly identified (Dan 8:1, 15, 27; 9:2; 10:2, 7; 12:5); in some contexts he is even introduced in the third person (10:1). Cf. also the speaker in Ecclesiastes (e.g., Eccl 1:12–17), though introduced in the third person (1:1–2).

[691]. Acts, which does not name its author, and whose author was presumably known to Theophilus, cannot be easily construed as pseudonymous.

[692]. E.g., 1 En. 1:2–3; 12:3; 13:3–4, 6–10; 14:2–4, 7–10, 13–16, 18–19; 21:1; 22:1; 23:1; 24:1; 41:1; 44:1; and passim. Enoch is first introduced in the third person in 1:1–2 and named with the “I” in 12:3; 19:3; 106:13; Enoch also appears in the third person in 12:1; 13:1 and passim. The work is composite.

[693]. Rev 1:9–10, 12, 17; 4:1–2, 4; 5:1–2, 4, 6, 11, 13; 6:1–3, 5–9, 12; 7:1–2, 4, 9, 13–14; 8:2, 13; 9:1, 13, 16–17; 10:1, 4–5; 10:8–11:1; 12:10; 13:1–3, 11; 14:1–2, 6, 13–14; 15:1–2, 5; 16:1, 5, 7, 13; 17:3, 6–7, 15; 18:1, 4; 19:1, 6, 9–11, 17, 19; 20:1, 4, 11–12; 21:1–3, 6, 9, 15, 22; 22:1, 6, 8–10. John is twice identified with the first person (1:9; 22:8).

[694]. In view of cultural distaste for explicit self-commendation, George Lyons, in his discussion of Pauline autobiography, notes that “then, as now, in numerous instances where the self-assertive first person singular pronoun ‘I’ might have been expected, the plural ‘we’ appears instead” (Lyons, Autobiography, 68–69, quotation from 69). Even in philosophic discourse, one might offer his own view in the first person only rarely if wishing to emphasize the school’s tradition (see Finamore and Dillon, “Introduction,” 14).

[695]. Often Luke also uses first-person-plural pronouns, perhaps for emphasis (in the nominative: Acts 20:6, 13; 21:7, 12; in other cases, 16:9–10, 15–16; 20:5, 7, 14; 21:1, 5, 11, 16–18; 27:1–2, 6–7, 10, 18, 20, 27; 28:2, 7, 10, 15).

[696]. As Hengel puts it, Luke indicates his presence, but “his personal experiences are uninteresting” (Acts in History, 66).

[697]. Campbell, “Narrator,” 407, suggests that the narrator “presents himself as a major influence in the determination” in Acts 16:9–10, which overstates the narrator’s role. But Campbell rightly goes on to qualify this statement by noting that the full group participates in the decision.

[698]. Campbell would likely agree on this point (“Narrator,” 40).

[699]. Some of the social dimensions are also noted by Suazo, “Poder.” Sourbut, “Philippi,” finds various helpful missiological and ministry models here.

[700]. On Luke’s usual reliability on major points, in addition to arguments in Keener, Acts, 1:51–319, and the many sources cited there (including Hengel and Hemer), some of it presented also in summary form in “Acts as Historiography,” see (too recent for inclusion in vol. 1) briefly Maier, “Historian.”

[701]. Conzelmann, Acts, 133. Koester, Paul and World, 71–72, treats the exorcism story as legendary (“the common stock of stories” about Christian “miracle workers”), yet as will be evident from the excursus at Acts 16:16 (or more fully, my Miracles, appendix B, 788–856), eyewitnesses do report such experiences.

[702]. The “we” narrator was part of the group that stayed with Lydia (Acts 16:15) and thus would have surely heard the account. Indeed, because the “we” apparently remains in Philippi for several years further, the narrator probably would have known this initial story even had he not been present at the beginning.

[703]. Dunn, Acts, 220.

[704]. For other literature, cf. Maclean and Aitken, Heroikos, xc.

[705]. Cf. Symm. Ep. 1.3.3; comment on Acts 20:13–16. If Luke was a physician (see the tentative discussion in Keener, Acts, 1:409–22, esp. 414–16), he undoubtedly approved the voyage; many doctors recommended long sea voyages for health (Casson, Travel, 130).

[706]. See Malherbe, Social Aspects, 62–63.

[707]. Meeks, Urban Christians, 18 (following Charlesworth, Trade Routes, 258; Casson, Travel, 182–88); Jeffers, World, 37. The figures in Weeber, “Travels,” 871, are an optimum of 120 nautical miles per day by sea; 60–75 km. mounted; 30 and 40 km. for pedestrians.

[708]. See discussion of travel in the commentary introduction (Keener, Acts, 1:582–89, esp. 589). Naval travelers might also hear songs along with the sea (cf., e.g., the rhythm for rowers in earlier rowing vessels, Ovid Tristia 4.1.7–10).

[709]. As elsewhere, noting a potential narrative connection is not meant to detract from Luke’s role as historian; virtually no one denies that Paul was a frequent traveler, including by sea (2 Cor 11:25).

[710]. Hemer, “Alexandria Troas,” 87.

[711]. Ibid. It was begun through creating a basin 400 yards wide, then connected with the sea; Hemer notes further (87n27) that this harbor was the reason for this city’s founding. Ancients used natural harbors when they were available (Vitruv. Arch. 5.12.1), constructing artificial ones only when necessary (5.12.2); for the distinction, see also Libanius Descr. 8.2.

[712]. See Hemer, “Alexandria Troas,” 91–92.

[713]. Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 186; Le Cornu, Acts, 876. Around the Hellespont, both southward currents and (for nine months of the year) winds blowing from the northeast would slow northward progress (Hemer, “Alexandria Troas,” 83–84, including 84n15). Presumably, Paul reaches Corinth in time to winter there (taking his stay in Philippi as much shorter than the year estimate in Jewett, Chronology, 59–61; others concur that Luke condenses Paul’s stay in Philippi, e.g., Koester, Paul and World, 71). Pervo, Acts, 401, notes that people viewed smooth voyages as “good portents”; this might also explain the slower voyage in Acts 20:6. Nevertheless, much of Paul’s reception in Macedonia is hostile, and seasonal winds explain the latter delay historically (and the entire “we” section offers a detailed itinerary).

[714]. E.g., Riesner, Early Period, 316; cf. Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 186; Bruce, Commentary, 329; Witherington, Acts, 488.

[715]. Ramsay, “Roads and Travel,” 379; Riesner, Early Period, 315 (citing the lower figures).

[716]. Commentators cite Livy 44.45 (who also allows for a day’s travel there); Pliny E. N.H. 4.23; see also Tac. Ann. 2.54. For more on Samothrace, see Lehmann and Lehmann, Samothrace: Excavations (including Lewis, Literary Sources); more briefly Fant and Reddish, Sites, 125–32; Külzer, “Geography”; Tsochos, “Religion”; Thorsen, “Samothrace.”

[717]. Thus it was said that the Trojans learned Samothracian Mysteries (Strabo 7, frg. 49). Several commentators point out Homer’s claim that Poseidon could view Troy from this peak (Hom. Il. 13.12).

[718]. Casson, Mariners, 209; see, e.g., Dio Chrys. Or. 7.6 (where Dio is the only passenger in a fishing boat).

[719]. Cf. Fant and Reddish, Sites, 127. McRay, Archaeology, 281, also thinks the same ship likely for the entire voyage.

[720]. Athenians used this island for travel to the Hellespont, and it was under Athenian control in this period (Shipley, “Imbros”).

[721]. Most commentators (Abbott, Acts, 176; Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 186; Bruce, Acts¹, 312; idem, Commentary, 329; Carter and Earle, Acts, 231; Longenecker, Acts, 255; Larkin, Acts, 234; Fitzmyer, Acts, 583; Witherington, Acts, 487n70).

[722]. Some claimed that the island was once called Μελίτη, Melite, because of its wealth (Strabo 7, frg. 50a; 10.3.19), but this would not be widely enough known to imply a connection with the island of that name in Acts 28:1.

[723]. McRay, Archaeology, 280.

[724]. Fitzmyer, Acts, 583; see Pliny E. N.H. 4.12.73.

[725]. McRay, Archaeology, 280.

[726]. Ibid.

[727]. Höckmann, “Harbours,” 1138, citing Jos. War 1.413 and noting the Helios Colossus of Rhodes. On that Colossus, see Polyb. 5.88.1; Pliny E. N.H. 34.18.41; Statius Silv. 1.1.104; Paus. 1.18.6; Lucian Z. Rants 11; Hist. 24; Philost. Vit. Apoll. 5.21; cf. Lucian Affairs 7; for prior, more general usage, see Pliny E. N.H. 34.18.39–47; 34.19.78; Dickie, “Kolossos.”

[728]. McRay, Archaeology, 281, suggesting fall of 49 C.E.

[729]. Strabo 7, frg. 49; Val. Flacc. 2.439–40; Vell. Paterc. 1.9.4–5 (a suppliant in the temple); Plut. Alex. 2.1; Tac. Ann. 2.54; Philost. Vit. Apoll. 2.43; 6.20; Athenag. Plea 4; see further Cole, Theoi megaloi, passim; briefly, Tsochos, “Religion” (esp. for the myths; pp. 940–41 note the presence of Mysteries before the cult of the Cabiri); McRay, Archaeology, 279–80. The cult appears throughout the northern Aegean (Schachter, “Cabiri”) and may have even interacted with later Christianity in Philippi (cf. Verhoef, “Syncretism”). Cf. the Hellenistic head of Cybele found on Samothrace, related to this cult (Welch, “Statue Head”); apparently, earth (identifiable with Cybele) and sky represented Great Gods, the male and female principles (Varro L.L. 5.10.58).

[730]. Borza, “Samothrace.”

[731]. The identification, in Hippol. Ref. 5.3, of both naked statues in the Samothrace temple as the single primal man probably responds to a later gnostic interpretation.

[732]. Gill, “Religion,” 90–91. Night initiations were common in various Mysteries, as often noted (Ramsay, Teaching, 294; Burkert, Mystery Cults, 8; Klauck, Context, 86); see, e.g., Hdn. 3.8.9; Lucian Peregr. 28; Alex. 39–40; Philost. Hrk. 52.3, 10, 17 (common enough for obviously figurative uses, Eurip. Hipp. 106; Apul. Metam. 11.21; Heliod. Eth. 6.15; Hippol. Ref. 1.proem); for Eleusis, see, e.g., Cic. Leg. 2.14.35; Mylonas, Eleusis, 243–85, passim (for torchbearers, Epict. Diatr. 3.21.13; Lucian Lexiphanes 10; Downward Journey 22; Fronto Ad Verum Imp. 2.1.4); for Osiris, Frankfurter, Religion in Egypt, 53 (citing Plut. Isis 39, Mor. 366F); for Dionysus, see, e.g., Livy 39.8.4; 39.12.4; 39.14.4; Ovid Metam. 6.587–89; Val. Max. 1.3.1; Men. Rhet. 2.7, 410.23–25; Koester, Introduction, 1:364; Klauck, Context, 116.

[733]. McRay, Archaeology, 279.

[734]. Religious scruples aside, it would have made little sense to look for accommodations on land (with the ship probably leaving in the morning) unless someone was very seasick.

[735]. Borza, “Samothrace.”

[736]. McRay, Archaeology, 280. Those who entered the sanctuary, west of the city, would pass through a marble gateway; many banquet halls were attached to the sanctuary (ibid.).

[737]. Graf, “Cabiri,” 863–64 (addressing other cult locations, 861–63); their assimilation may be more prominent later. See, e.g., Varro L.L. 5.10.58.

[738]. Cole, Theoi megaloi, 38.

[739]. Ibid., 42 (noting that about twice as many Greeks as Romans were initiated).

[740]. McRay, Archaeology, 279.

[741]. On Dyrrhachium’s history, see, e.g., Cary and Hammond, “Dyrrhachium.”

[742]. On Lampsacus, see Schwertheim, “Lampsacus” (citing Strabo 13.1.18–19; Ptolemy Geog. 5.2.2); Wormell and Mitchell, “Lampsacus.”

[743]. French, “Roads,” 54; see further McRay, Archaeology, 282–83. Commentators generally claim Neapolis as the eastern end of the road (Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 187; C. Williams, Acts, 193; Bruce, Commentary, 329–30), but these variations, in addition to depending on what one counts as the road in what period, reflect the practical question of whether to count the side across the water.

[744]. Hammond, “Western Part of Via Egnatia”; cf. Friedländer, Life, 1:284.

[745]. E.g., Bornkamm, Experience, 15.

[746]. The historical Paul may have proceeded even farther than this, since he claims that he preached (presumably in person, but that the preaching was through a surrogate is possible) in Illyricum (Rom 15:19), “a province at the western end of the Via Egnatia even more thoroughly latinized than Philippi and Corinth” (Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 155).

[747]. Gill, “Macedonia,” 410. Wilson (personal correspondence, Nov. 25, 2011) estimates ten miles (16 km.) from Neapolis to Philippi.

[748]. McDonald, “Philippi,” 788.

[749]. Both the earliest textual evidence and classical usage favor the use of two words here (Metzger, Textual Commentary, 444). The city title was, naturally, not uncommon (the most prominent bearer was the Neapolis that became modern Naples; Lomas, “Neapolis”; e.g., Vell. Paterc. 1.4.2; 2.76.2).

[750]. Bredow, “Neapolis.”

[751]. Ramsay, “Roads and Travel,” 384.

[752]. Thasos founded the city as its colony in the seventh century B.C.E. (Fant and Reddish, Sites, 83). Further on Neapolis (modern Kavalla), see ibid., 83–85; Gempf, “Neapolis.”

[753]. Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 187.

[754]. Fant and Reddish, Sites, 83.

[755]. Barreto, Negotiations, 131.

[756]. Pliny E. N.H. 4.10.29 says that the Strymon flows from Mount Haemus, constitutes Macedonia’s border, and spills into seven lakes along the way.

[757]. Murphy-O’Connor, Paul, 65 (noting that the population included “Thracians, Greeks, Macedonians and Romans”); Schnabel, Missionary, 92 (following esp. Pilhofer, Philippi, 1:76). The figure may be higher; Ascough, Lydia, 25–26, suggests as many as fifteen thousand residents, of whom a minority were citizens. All these estimates belong to the same order of magnitude.

[758]. Meeks, Urban Christians, 46.

[759]. Witherington, Acts, 488.

[760]. Schnabel, Missionary, 271. His observation about Philippi’s devotion to the imperial cult may be less relevant, given the pervasiveness of paganism in the Gentile world.

[761]. Despite the wealth from these mines, however (cf. figures in Diod. Sic. 16.8.6), Philippi’s local economy was apparently more agrarian (Errington, “Philippi,” 23).

[762]. Cf. Riesner, Early Period, 376–77; Scott, Corinthians, 175; Barrett, 2 Corinthians, 219; Strachan, Second Corinthians, 133. But their “poverty” does fit the purpose of Paul’s exhortation to the Corinthians there (cf. also Meeks, Urban Christians, 66).

[763]. Betz, Corinthians, 43, citing inscriptions.

[764]. On Philippi, see further Hendrix, “Philippi,” and sources cited there; Oakes, Philippians, 1–76; Fant and Reddish, Sites, 100–110; Blaiklock, Cities, 39–44; Ascough, “Recent Studies”; Schnabel, Mission, 1151–53.

[765]. Beare, Philippians, 9.

[766]. On this war, see Charlesworth, “Avenging,” 22–25; Vell. Paterc. 2.70.1. Many praised the valor of Cassius and Brutus, though this could be fatal under paranoid Tiberius (Tac. Ann. 4.34–35, noting this battle in 4.35). After the “battle of Philippi,” Marc Antony and Cleopatra withdrew to Asia (Strabo 17.1.11).

[767]. It was still not large by urban standards, not more than 600–800 m. from wall to wall on the east-west axis (Meeks, Urban Christians, 46).

[768]. For more detailed information on Philippi, see, e.g., Collart, Philippes; Elliger, Paulus in Griechenland, 23–77.

[769]. Gill, “Macedonia,” 405 (noting that Pella received treatment equal to communities in Italy, of which it was a legal part under the ius italicum; most commentators also assign this right to Philippi; Fitzmyer, Acts, 584; Witherington, Acts, 488).

[770]. Fitzmyer, Acts, 584. For this title on its coins, see Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 187, and numismatic and epigraphic material cited there.

[771]. Fitzmyer, Acts, 584; Witherington, Acts, 488; Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 19.

[772]. Garnsey and Saller, Empire, 27; Ferguson, Backgrounds, 32; O’Rourke, “Law,” 175. Veteran colonies were discontinued in the early empire after Philippi’s founding as a colony.

[773]. Tajra, Trial, 5.

[774]. Cf. Carter and Earle, Acts, 232.

[775]. Ascough, Lydia, 25–26, estimates that roughly 30 percent of the population, about 4,200 out of 15,000 residents, were citizens of Philippi, hence Roman citizens. Hellerman, “Servants,” 88, similarly suggests perhaps 40 percent. Romanization nevertheless must have shaped much of Philippian life; for romanization as (in postcolonial terms) hybridization, see Stanley, “Hybrid,” 112.

[776]. Fitzmyer, Acts, 584 (citing Appian Bell. civ. 4.13.105–4.17.131; Dio Cass. 47.42–49).

[777]. Meeks, Urban Christians, 45, citing Levick, Roman Colonies, 161.

[778]. Meeks, Urban Christians, 45, citing Levick, Roman Colonies, 161.

[779]. Tajra, Trial, 6–7.

[780]. The πολίτευμα included noncitizens with some citizen rights, in contrast to the δῆμος, the body of full citizens (Meeks, Urban Christians, 36).

[781]. Gill, “Macedonia,” 411n85.

[782]. Lemerle, Philippes, 21n1 (noting that the suggestion predates Blass; in Festugière, “Lemerle,” 132); Metzger, Textual Commentary, 445–46, noting the majority of the editorial committee for the United Bible Societies’ Greek New Testament; McRay, Archaeology, 284. Metzger himself seems right to demur, preferring simply “a leading city of the district of Macedonia” (Textual Commentary, 446; see also Ascough, “Civic Pride at Philippi”).

[783]. Livy 45.29; Hemer, Acts in History, 113; Bruce, Acts¹, 313; Gill, “Macedonia,” 411; more tentatively here, Conzelmann, Acts, 130; cf. Gasque, “Acts and History,” 56.

[784]. Foakes-Jackson, Acts, 152 (as one view, the other being its eminence).

[785]. Cf. Conzelmann, Acts, 130; Campbell, “We” Passages, 95; Peterson, Acts, 459–60. Certainly, Philippi was prominent (see, e.g., the summary in Reicke, Era, 231).

[786]. Various cities might compete for “primacy” (πρωτείων, Dio Chrys. Or. 38.24, where Nicaea held the honor but Nicomedia was striving for it; Dio questions the honor’s value, 38.29–30), i.e., to be a province’s chief city.

[787]. See Witherington, Acts, 489; for papyri showing that Macedonian colonists employed the term μερίς this way, see Yamauchi, Stones, 115. By this period, Macedonia’s four “districts” remained significant only for judicial purposes (Errington, “Macedonia,” 65). Since Philippi counted as Roman, its geographic placement in a technical “district” was less consequential to its status, in any case.

[788]. See Keener, Acts, 1:431–32.

[789]. Witherington, Acts, 489, suggests that Luke praises the city according to standard rhetorical convention (Men. Rhet. 2, 369.17–370.10; Dio Chrys. Or. 33.17–18, 21). Since such praise appears elsewhere only for Paul’s hometown of Tarsus (Acts 21:39), Witherington suggests with Ramsay that it might be Luke’s hometown (Acts, 489); see more fully for a form of this view Ascough, “Civic Pride at Philippi” (noting how common civic pride was; see also comment on Acts 21:39); idem, Lydia, 22 (viewing the Philippian “we” author’s civic pride as surmounting technical accuracy). This position is plausible, whether Luke originated there or merely resided there for many years.

[790]. Witherington, Acts, 490; cf. Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 421 (not the capital but a leading town and colony). Still, Philippi was nothing to boast about compared with major cities such as Antioch, Ephesus, Corinth, or Rome (Chrys. Hom. Acts 35); it was en route from Troas to the west, however, and Paul surely founded a church there (Phil 1:5, 30; 4:3, 15–16; 1 Thess 2:2).

[791]. See Gaventa, Acts, 236; Barreto, Negotiations, 127–30, 132, esp. 127.

[792]. It is probably also implied in Luke 14:1, as in the parallel in Mark 3:1–2. One might invite a rabbi for dinner (ʾAbot R. Nat. 11, §27 B; y. Ter. 8:7, §6; Urbach, Sages, 1:434), and naturally a visiting one after a synagogue meeting (cf. Jeremias, Parables, 126), though also other guests, especially the poor, might be invited to dine on Sabbath eve (Koenig, Hospitality, 16).

[793]. Witherington, Acts, 490. Contrast their previous experience with “gates” and religion in 14:13.

[794]. Carter in Carter and Earle, Acts, 233.

[795]. Judge, Pattern, 67.

[796]. This sufficed for a congregation (m. Sanh. 1:6), and God’s presence would be available for this number (m. ʾAb. 3:6).

[797]. For the quorum of ten, see, e.g., b. Ber. 6ab; Meg. 23b; y. Meg. 4:4, §5; cf. Reicke, Era, 121; 1QS VI, 3, 6; perhaps CD XIII, 1–2; m. ʾAb. 3:6. Le Cornu, Acts, 688, says that women could count for the quorum.

[798]. Klauck, Magic, 64.

[799]. There was a Jewish presence in Macedonia at least later (see sources in Stern, “Diaspora,” 160n1), and eventually even Jewish graves (attested two to three centuries after Paul) and a late third- to early fourth-century synagogue in Philippi (Fant and Reddish, Sites, 102); but we lack concrete evidence concerning this period. See comment on Acts 17:10–12.

[800]. See Dunn, Acts, 218–19. For preference for flowing over stagnant water for sacred purposes, when possible, cf., e.g., Eurip. Hypsipyle frg. 752h.29–32; m. Ter. 5:6; ʿEd. 1:3; 7:3–4; Mikw. 2:3ff.; 3:1–4; 4:1–5; 5:1–6; t. Mikw. 2; ʿEd. 1:3; Sipra Sh. par. 9.118.1.1; Did. 7.1–2; see more fully Keener, John, 510.

[801]. Sanders, Judaism, 224; Ferguson, Backgrounds, 399–400. Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 191, cite P.Tebt. 86 (second century B.C.E.) for a prayerhouse by the water but wrongly think that the Jewish “custom” is simply “a Christian guess” (cf. Tert. Fasting 16; Nat. 1.13).

[802]. Sanders, Jesus to Mishnah, 259. See evidence cited in Sukenik, Synagogues, 49–50; the waters apparently for Diaspora visitors in Theodotus’s synagogue in Jerusalem (Deissmann, Light, 440, followed by Yamauchi, Stones, 113).

[803]. The CPJ editors allow that both purification and their function as boardinghouses may be reasons (CPJ 2:221; cf. CIJ 2:333, §1404). This water was pumped by a wheel (CPJ 2:220) and hence was not rainwater as in Judean regulations for a mikveh (see Keener, John, 510–11). This evidence is also cited by Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 191 (in P.Lond. 1177.57).

[804]. E.g., Polyb. 34.9.5.

[805]. Many temples and cults employed lustrations; see, e.g., “Temple Program” 285ff. (ANET 332); Epict. Diatr. 3.21.14; Plut. Isis 75, Mor. 381D; Apul. Metam. 11.1; Wild, Water, 129–48; for fuller discussion, see Keener, John, 442–43.

[806]. Cf. Sib. Or. 3.591–93; cf. Exod 30:19–21; 40:31; Jub. 21:16; m. Yad. 1:1–2:4; b. Bek. 30b, bar.; Ber. 11b; 15a; 60b; Exod. Rab. 22:3; Safrai, “Religion,” 830, citing Sipra Sh. 8; Sipra Mezora Zabim 6; m. Miqw. passim; before meals, y. Ber. 6:6, §1; cf. also b. Šabb. 39b, bar. The first-century “houses” debate in m. Ber. 8:2 presupposes a restricted form of handwashing by pouring. Cf. also the later Islamic custom before prayer in Qur’an 5.6.

[807]. Sanders, Jesus to Mishnah, 260.

[808]. Before prayer or other important purposes, e.g., Hom. Il. 6.266; 24.304–5; Od. 2.260–61; 12.336–37; Hesiod W.D. 724–26, 737–41; Lysias Or. 6.52, §§107–8; Virg. Aen. 2.717–20; for explicit reference to ritual and other water being poured over hands, e.g., Hom. Il. 9.174; 24.302–3; Od. 1.136–38; 3.338; 4.52–54, 216; 21.270. On handwashing, see also comment in Keener, John, 512; idem, Matthew, 409.

[809]. On libations, see Hom. Il. 1.462; 6.258–60; 9.175–77; Od. 2.431–32; 3.333–34; Hesiod W.D. 724; Eurip. Hyps. 118–19; Ap. Rhod. 1.435–36; Val. Max. 2.6.8; Pliny E. N.H. 14.23.119; Arrian Alex. 1.11.6; 6.3.2; Pliny Ep. 10.96.5; Xen. Eph. Anthia 1.10; 5.10; Philost. Hrk. 1.6; 33.36; 53.9; 58.5. The image was familiar in Philippi (Phil 2:17).

[810]. Klauck, Context, 16.

[811]. 2 Kgs 3:11; Hom. Il. 9.174; Od. 1.136–38, 146; 2.260–61; 3.338; 4.52–54, 216; 12.336; 21.270; Apollod. Bib. 2.7.6; Athen. Deipn. 9.408CD.

[812]. Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 190; Haenchen, Acts, 494; Bruce, Acts¹, 313; Conzelmann, Acts, 130.

[813]. Although Greeks settled in the fertile Thracian areas around the Strymon centuries earlier (Plut. Cim. 7.1–3), much of its surroundings remained remote; a century after Paul, an emperor founded a Thracian city on the river (158 C.E.), but it seems to have faded back into obscurity as a village afterward (IGBulg 4.2263; Garnsey and Saller, Empire, 29–30).

[814]. McRay, Archaeology, 286.

[815]. Ibid., 287. The Roman arch probably is from the first half of the first century (and hence was standing in Paul’s day), still visible in the nineteenth century (Finegan, Apostles, 103).

[816]. McRay, Archaeology, 286–87.

[817]. Finegan, Apostles, 103; McRay, Archaeology, 287.

[818]. Although Luke respects the tradition of such limits on the Sabbath in Jerusalem (Acts 1:12), Diaspora Jews and converts (and certainly God-fearers) may not have usually been so fastidious, and meeting by water may have been more important. That it was beyond a Sabbath day’s journey is probably not information that Luke would have volunteered, since Paul and Silas traveled as well. That they later met a diviner en route (16:16; the owners were Romans [16:21] and hence may have acted within the city walls) does not require us to suppose that they were close to the city, since Luke does not say how far they had advanced, when they encountered her, from where they were staying on that occasion.

[819]. Lemerle, Philippes, 133 (cited in Festugière, “Lemerle,” 133; Fitzmyer, Acts, 585). The semantic range of the term ποταμός includes “stream” (BDAG).

[820]. McRay, Archaeology, 287.

[821]. Finegan, Apostles, 103, says that it was “some 1,300 ft (400 m)” from the forum, along the Via Egnatia to the west gate; McRay, Archaeology, 287, says that the Krenides was “1 kilometer (about .5 mile) from the forum.” This could make the walk beyond the wall to the Krenides longer than that to the gate (depending on where they started) but not necessarily by much.

[822]. Finegan, Apostles, 103.

[823]. Ibid.; McRay, Archaeology, 287.

[824]. Finegan, Apostles, 103 (noting that this was the plain where Romans fought the battle of Philippi in 42 B.C.E.).

[825]. Ibid., 103–4; McRay, Archaeology, 287. The lack of baptistery may suggest that baptism was conducted in the stream, still flowing at that time (Finegan, Apostles, 104).

[826]. As in, e.g., Jos. Life 277; see discussion in Reimer, Women, 85–90; comment on Acts 1:14. For a synagogue here, see Munck, Acts, 161; Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 191; Brooten, Women Leaders, 139–40 (who is right that women were not barred from synagogue services, but her other points are weaker); Reimer, Women, 83; Arnold, “Acts,” 371 (noting epigraphic evidence for a Philippian synagogue, but also that it is likely from the early third century).

[827]. Distinguishing this usage from Luke’s by attributing it to a source (Brooten, Women Leaders, 139–40) hardly works if, as I have argued, the “we” material is from Luke himself.

[828]. Conzelmann, Acts, 130; Bruce, Acts¹, 314; Witherington, Acts, 491; Fitzmyer, Acts, 585; Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 156.

[829]. A place near a river may not have been an ideal gathering place for women, including those who could buy property; Cicero lambasts the morality of a woman who procured land near where men bathed in the Tiber (Cael. 15.36).

[830]. The textual questions surrounding the verb and noun, however, are complex (see Metzger, Textual Commentary, 447, for the questions; cf. Bruce, Acts³, 70).

[831]. Gaventa, Acts, 236.

[832]. See, e.g., Pesiq. Rab Kah. 18:5; Dalman, Jesus-Jeshua, 45–46; Safrai, “Education,” 968; comment on Acts 13:14–15.

[833]. See esp. Brooten, Women Leaders, 140–41.

[834]. See Brooten, “Segregated”; idem, Women Leaders, 103–38; Safrai, “Segregated”; comment on Acts 1:14.

[835]. Chance, Acts, 283, rightly suggests that Luke’s audience would construe his message in light of Paul’s previous preaching in Acts and also that Luke’s lack of explicit elaboration here further underlines the elements of his narrative that are more explicit.

[836]. E.g., Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 108.3; Mus. Ruf. 3, p. 38.25–26; 4, p. 42.34–35; 16, p. 101.20–21; 17, p. 106.20–21; Plut. Lect. 11, Mor. 43BC; Table 2.1.2, Mor. 630BC; Aul. Gel. 8.10; 12.5.4; 18.13.7–8; 20.10.1–6; Diog. Laert. 7.1.19; t. Sanh. 7:10; ʾAbot R. Nat. 6 A. In larger lectures, this was more polite after the discourse (e.g., Aul. Gel. 1.26.2; 16.6.1–12), but many were not hesitant to interrupt (Rhet. Alex. 18, 1432b.35–40; 1433a.14–18; Dio Chrys. Or. 15.26–32; Plut. Lect. 4, Mor. 39CD; Demosth. 6.3; 8.5; Cic. 16.3; Pliny Ep. 3.9.25; 3.20.3; 9.13.19; Lucian Dem. 14).

[837]. Luke usually employs the first person plural for travel rather than for another main action; we must thus take seriously his participation here (as also in 16:10).

[838]. Some have identified one of these women with Lydia (as the “Lydian woman”; Johnston, Ephesians, 46; Kurzinger, Apostelgeschichte, 63; cf. Beare, Philippians, 144). One could also view these names as symbolic to avoid embarrassing the individuals; but the church would know who they were, and writers could provide names when exhorting reconciliation (cf. Cic. Att. 1.3; 1.5; 1.10). Their Greek names may suggest that they were merchants there (Meeks, Urban Christians, 57); even if neither was Lydia herself, they may have belonged to Lydia’s circle, perhaps to her original prayer group (Acts 16:13–14). As Paul’s fellow workers (Phil 4:3), they were likely converted early in Paul’s ministry there, which would fit this hypothesis, given the centrality of the prayer group in Paul’s ministry there (Acts 16:16a).

[839]. Keener, Acts, 1:597–638.

[840]. Cf., e.g., Jer 9:20; Titus 2:4; Clem. Alex. Strom. 3.53.3; for other activities with other women, see, e.g., Xen. Lac. 1.4; perhaps 4Q271 3 13–14 (if the reconstruction is accurate). Cf. modern Islamic custom in Pizzuto-Pomaco, “Shame,” 44.

[841]. See Keener, Acts, 1:629–37, esp. 634–37. In summarizing these characteristics of ancient Mediterranean culture, I hope that it can go without saying that I am reporting, not agreeing with, these convictions (see Keener, Paul, 70–132).

[842]. Le Cornu, Acts, 688, cites b. Meg. 23a.

[843]. Brooten, Women Leaders, 95, points out that we know little of women in the Greek Diaspora. She cites t. Meg. 4:11 (which forbids women to read in public) and m. Sukkah 3:10 (which “grudgingly allows” them to read the Hallel privately).

[844]. Kee, Origins, 91; Banks, Community, 129 (though cf. the reasonable warning that even epigraphic evidence is not free from male bias, in Matthews, Converts, 26). By comparison, however, the Samothracian Mysteries (see comment on Acts 16:11) had very few women initiates (Cole, Theoi megaloi, 42).

[845]. See, e.g., Cameron, “Neither Male nor Female,” 61.

[846]. Most other Stoics shared such convictions (cf. Lact. Div. Inst. 3.25).

[847]. Women would manage the household (Mus. Ruf. 3, p. 40.10–12; p. 42.27–28; 4, p. 44.14; cf. 1 Tim 5:14; Apul. Apol. 87).

[848]. Though men were more fitted by nature for hard labor and women for weaker activities such as spinning (Mus. Ruf. 4, p. 46.8–23), any of these works could be interchanged in some situations (46.23–31).

[849]. He does not insist that women should have technical philosophic knowledge, since they have fewer opportunities to use it (Mus. Ruf. 4, p. 48.21–23); he also expects them to fulfill their culturally assigned tasks (3, p. 42.16–17).

[850]. Malherbe, Moral Exhortation, 82 (citing [83–85] Ps.-Melissa Letter to Kleareta and Ps.-Theano Letter to Eubule).

[851]. Avi-Yonah, Hellenism, 31, opines that women were more inclined to Hellenistic religious practices than were men; this inclination may, however, depend on the rites involved. For women’s religious involvement in classical Greece, see, e.g., Eurip. Melanippe 5–19.

[852]. E.g., Cic. Att. 1.12–13; Fam. 1.9.15; Plut. Cic. 19.3–4; 28.2; Caes. 10.1–3; Juv. Sat. 2.87–92.

[853]. See Pleket 13 in Lefkowitz and Fant, Life, 157, §159.

[854]. Gardner, Women, 67–68.

[855]. This may be relevant to Lydia; although the text does not specify whether she became a God-fearer in Asia or in Macedonia, the larger number of Jews in the former makes it likelier there.

[856]. See esp. Brooten, Women Leaders, 5–33, although clearly they were the minority (and there were probably multiple people filling the role, p. 27); for ἀρχηγός, see 35–39; for mention of priestly families, 73–99. Frey speculates that the title was likely “purement honorifique” (CIJ 2:20); he also doubts that women ever filled the role of “archon” (1:lxxxix), but his skepticism is excessive. The Smyrna inscription appears also in Goodenough, Symbols, 80.

[857]. Brooten, Women Leaders, 41–55, esp. 44.

[858]. Ibid., 5–33.

[859]. See Wegner, Chattel, 146.

[860]. See Gundry-Volf, “Gender,” 186–88; Sirach was misogynist (188–94); Philo was patriarchal but allowed transcendence of gender through disembodiment (195–201); Joseph and Aseneth and Paul are more progressive voices, though still mixing elements (201–9).

[861]. Perhaps more in pastoral settings, such as in Longus Daphnis and Chloe; note their (second- and third-century C.E.) participation in the cult of Silvanus (Dorcey, “Women”). For similarities in antiquity despite regional variations, cf. Mullins, “Secular Roles.”

[862]. As is regularly acknowledged, e.g., Ferguson, Backgrounds, 58. See, e.g., Wiseman, “Macedonian Family.”

[863]. See Keener, Acts, 1:609, 622–23; cf. also Appian Hist. rom. 3.11.1; Mommsen, History, 548; Carcopino, Life, 84–85; Pomeroy, “Women in Egypt,” 318; Garnsey and Saller, Empire, 130, 138; Meeks, Moral World, 62; Winter, Wives, 113, 123–24; Lefkowitz and Fant, Life, 244–47. This stemmed especially from the growth of the sine manu marriage arrangements, in which the wife remained subject to her father (with whom she no longer lived) rather than to her husband (Verner, Household, 39).

[864]. Plut. Alex. 2.4–5 complained about Macedonian women’s addiction to Orphic rites and Dionysiac orgies (Pomeroy, Goddesses, 122), but Greek cults played a small role in Roman Philippi.

[865]. Abrahamsen, “Reliefs,” passim, esp. 108–30; idem, “Women at Philippi”; idem, “Rock Reliefs.” The Isis cult in Philippi proved especially tenacious through the fifth century C.E. (107).

[866]. Kearns, “Women in Cult.”

[867]. Carter and Earle, Acts, 233.

[868]. Ascough, Lydia, 88–90, tentatively suggests that Lydia, while devout, may not have worshiped Israel’s God before Luke’s redactional activity. But Luke is our only relevant source, and the setting of a Sabbath gathering seems clear enough in this source.

[869]. See Matthews, Converts, 25. Roman literature generally portrayed women “as more susceptible to foreign influence” (McCoskey, Race, 163).

[870]. With Reimer, Women, 97–98; Heine, Women, 83–84; cf. already Lightfoot, “Third Notebook on Acts,” page facing p. 18 (from Witherington).

[871]. More for physical reasons (with, e.g., Leon, Jews of Rome, 256) than the psychoanalytic ideas that some (e.g., Rubenstein, Paul, 70) have proposed. Given inscriptions using the feminine proselyta, which Kee acknowledges, his uncertainty whether women could become proselytes (because they could not be circumcised; Origins, 88) is unwarranted.

[872]. See Stern, “Diaspora,” 142.

[873]. Jos. Ant. 20.195; Life 16; Bailey, “Matriarchs,” 155–56; Williams, “Θεοσεβής.” She proved less helpful, though not deliberately so, in Jos. Ant. 20.252; on Poppaea as Nero’s mistress, see also, e.g., Tac. Hist. 1.13; for the report that Nero killed her, see Suet. Nero 35.3.

[874]. E.g., Jos. Ant. 20.135 (though Josephus dislikes Agrippina; see 20.151–52).

[875]. Leon, Jews of Rome, 256.

[876]. Riesner, Early Period, 351; similarly, Levinskaya, Diaspora Setting, 25. Proselyte inscriptions constitute only 1 percent of all Jewish inscriptions (Diaspora Setting, 25), but the sampling from diverse locations should be fairly representative.

[877]. Lieu, “Attraction,” suggests, indeed, that ancient claims emphasizing women converts to Christianity tell us more about rhetoric than statistics. But as noted above, hard statistics show more female than male God-fearers in Judaism, an even higher percentage than with proselytes (Riesner, Early Period, 351).

[878]. MacDonald, “Role of Women,” 184.

[879]. Ibid.

[880]. Often noted (e.g., Whittaker, Jews and Christians, 34).

[881]. Cf. Livy 39.8–19, esp. 39.18.9; Val. Max. 1.3.1. From at least the time of Euripides’s Bacchanals, many associated Dionysiac practice especially with women (Apollod. Bib. 2.2.2; Statius Theb. 7.649–51; 9.479–80; Lucian Sat. 8; Dion. 1–4; Peregr. 2; Philost. Elder Imag. 1.18; 2.17; Callistr. Descr. 2; Otto, Dionysus, 142; Lefkowitz and Fant, Life, 114–15; Klauck, Context, 120). In the Mysteries more generally, cf. Juv. Sat. 6.314–41; Pomeroy, Goddesses, 75–78; Lefkowitz and Fant, Life, 114–17.

[882]. Jos. Ant. 18.81–84.

[883]. Jos. Ant. 18.66–80. For Roman mistrust, see, e.g., Val. Max. 1.3.4; 7.3.8; Juv. Sat. 6.489; Pomeroy, Goddesses, 223. But the Isis cult emphasized chastity (Apul. Metam. 11.19) and reinforced many domestic ideals (see, e.g., Horsley, Documents, 1:20, §2; cf. Heyob, Isis, 76, 80; Dunand, Religion en Égypte, 69–70). In a later period’s apologetic at least, they also supported Rome (Apul. Metam. 11.17). Even in the Isis cult, women remained a minority, though they constituted more than one-third of the adherents in Roman inscriptions (Heyob, Isis, 81–83). For the cult’s gradual acceptance, see Grant, Gods, 34.

[884]. Keener, Paul, 140–46; more succinctly, Kee, Origins, 91.

[885]. Pomeroy, Goddesses, 205–6. For a variety of women’s rituals, both Greek and Roman, see Kraemer, Maenads, 11–42; on women’s activity in religion, see also Mullins, “Religious Roles”; for a Roman festival exclusively for women, see, e.g., Plut. Caes. 9.3.

[886]. Stendahl, Paul, 29.

[887]. Spencer, Acts, 164, contrasts the responses of the women here and that of the crowds in Acts 16:22, the private sphere of the prayer-place and home (16:13, 15) and the public sphere of the marketplace (16:19). Women were associated especially with the private, domestic sphere, though this was less true in Macedonia than elsewhere (the extreme was classical Athens; see Gould, “Position in Athens,” 50; Keener, “Head Coverings,” 443; for qualifications in practice, see, e.g., Osiek and MacDonald, Place, 3).

[888]. See discussion in Carcopino, Life, 131.

[889]. On some Romans’ resentment of successful proselytism, see, e.g., Parkes, Conflict, 25–26; on resentment of Roman women’s attachment to Judaism, see, e.g., Keener, Paul, 142; on Roman male concern with such cults’ unduly emancipating their wives, see, e.g., Matthews, Converts, 27.

[890]. Ilan, “Women to Pharisaism.”

[891]. Liefeld, “Preacher,” 239–40; Ilan, “Women to Pharisaism”; cf. Lucian Runaways 18; against gnostics, see Iren. Her. 1.13; Klauck, Context, 488; Dibelius and Conzelmann, Pastoral Epistles, 116. Interestingly, Tertullian lavished such criticism on gnostics but later joined the Montanist movement; gnostic feminism is often clearer in the critiques than in the gnostics’ own documents, underlining that the charge was often used as a slander. Opponents of the new cults may have exaggerated women’s involvement and innovation (Meeks, Urban Christians, 24–25).

[892]. See Matthews, Converts, 29–50.

[893]. Some scholars treat these passages, especially the latter one, as interpolations. My comment here presupposes Keener, Paul, 19–235; cf. idem, “Subversive Conservative.” In this work, see more fully idem, Acts, 1:597–638, esp. 601–2.

[894]. Cf. Cameron, “Neither Male nor Female”; Keener, Paul, 237–57; see esp. idem, Acts, 1:597–638.

[895]. Although viewing the “we” material as redactional, Sterck-Degueldre, Frau, also views Lydia as a historically genuine person converted in Philippi (cf. also Sterck-Degueldre, “Frau”). Contrast Bonz, Past as Legacy, 167, whose verdict regarding Lydia’s historicity rests on viewing the narrative as epic (though even epics drew characters from tradition and the rarer epics of recent events, such as Lucan’s Civil War, could use historical characters). Contrast also Matthews, Converts, 93, who argues against historicity by lack of her mention in Philippians (an argument from silence, as she admits; Paul names only about three members of the church!) and “the symbolic richness” of her name. But “Lydia” was a common enough nickname (and given name) for women from Lydia (addressed below). A novel could employ realistic names in symbolic ways (for etymological or other associations; see Jones, “Names,” on Heliodorus’s Ethiopian Story), but this approach does not work well for historical works such as Acts, full of actual personages—Peter, Paul, Agrippa, etc.

[896]. With Bornkamm, Paul, 60; see full discussion at Acts 10:2.

[897]. Converts and inquirers were normally welcome, in any case, but this might be especially true for an isolated minority.

[898]. Levinskaya, Diaspora Setting, 123. Men of higher status also more often became God-fearers than proselytes (Blue, “House Church,” 178; see comment on Acts 13:43).

[899]. Judge, “Scholastic Community,” 128.

[900]. The journey has already encountered some difficulties (16:6–7), and Paul will face hostility all the way through Macedonia. The first named convert being a woman (and one from Asia Minor, not Macedonia) contrasts starkly with the conversion of a governor. Luke would not have sufficient incentive to invent Lydia’s conversion, especially as the first narrated conversion in Macedonia; but mentioning her fits his interest in balancing male and female characters (see discussion in Keener, Acts, 1:598–605).

[901]. Cheng, Characterisation, 181–82, notes that God opening Lydia’s heart fits divine initiative toward God-fearers elsewhere in Acts.

[902]. In this context, God is also able to “open” prisons (Acts 16:26–27).

[903]. 1QS XI, 15–16; cf. 4Q434 1 II, 3–4; most commonly in prayer, e.g., Ps 119:18; 2 Macc 1:4; 1QH^a IX, 23; XV, 41; XXII, 31; cf. the idea in Deut 29:19; 30:6; but the meaning in 2 Cor 6:11 is different. In a later period, when philosophic determinism was an issue, John Chrysostom balanced this claim: “We need God, to open the heart; but God opens the hearts that are willing” (Hom. Acts 35 [NPNF 11:220–21]).

[904]. Paul also certainly believed in baptism, as here (Rom 6:3–4; 1 Cor 12:13; Gal 3:27); though Paul may appear less emphatic about it in its literal sense than Luke (1 Cor 1:13–17), Luke also regarded Spirit baptism as paramount (Acts 10:44–48). On Paul’s theology of baptism, see, e.g., Beasley-Murray, “Baptism”; for Luke’s theology of baptism, see comment on Acts 2:38.

[905]. Plut. Bride 19, Mor. 140D; Balch, Wives, 99; Meeks, Urban Christians, 30 (though also noting the difficulty of enforcing this expectation).

[906]. In early Christian sources, it is nearly always the Christian wife who is married to a non-Christian husband (Osiek and MacDonald, Place, 42–43).

[907]. Horsley, Documents, 2:27, §3; Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 71. Ascough, Lydia, 51, allows this hypothesis as one possible explanation for how she acquired her means but also notes other possibilities (esp. an inheritance from her father or widowhood).

[908]. Gill, “Élites,” 114.

[909]. E.g., Hor. Odes 1.8.1 (cf. 1.25.8; 3.9.6–7, 20); Mart. Epig. 11.21; 11.71.

[910]. Gardner, Women, 238–39; Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 71; Horsley, Documents, 2:27, §3.

[911]. Meeks, Urban Christians, 24; Pomeroy, Goddesses, 200.

[912]. Witherington, Acts, 492 (following Horsley, Documents, 2:26, 28); he suggests that the imperial agents of Phil 4:22 may include Lydia, “away in Rome on business.”

[913]. Horsley, Documents, 3:53, §17; Blue, “House Church,” 186n258; Yamauchi, Cities, 54.

[914]. Further on Thyatira, see below; Fant and Reddish, Sites, 328–31; Yamauchi, Cities, 51–54.

[915]. A later probable Jewish settler in Philippi was from Smyrna, where many Jewish people also lived (Fant and Reddish, Sites, 102). On the region of Lydia, see, e.g., Kaletsch, “Lydia.”

[916]. Hemer, Acts in History, 114 (noting the possibility, since it is attested both as a “regular” and “an alternative” name). Cf. one Syrus, a slave from Syria (Lucian Tox. 28).

[917]. Sardis, mentioned above, was capital of the ancient kingdom of Lydia. For Lydia, see Pliny E. N.H. 5.30.110–11 (Sardis, 5.30.110).

[918]. Horsley, Documents, 2:27, §3.

[919]. Meeks, Urban Christians, 62; Witherington, Acts, 491.

[920]. Jeffers, World, 208.

[921]. Witherington, Acts, 491–92.

[922]. I explore the question of her social status briefly below; but Luke might think of her status in the Philippian church (cf. Acts 18:26).

[923]. More distinctively, stelae from Lydia show many confession texts (Gordon, “Sceptre”).

[924]. Klauck, Context, 324 (though not specifying when Thyatira received it).

[925]. Caird, Revelation, 43; Hemer, Letters, 116. Some scholars argue that the emperor was worshiped in this city as Apollo, son of Zeus (e.g., Schüssler Fiorenza, Revelation, 193).

[926]. CIJ 2:17–18, §752; Stern, “Diaspora,” 151 (citing CIG 2.3509, the same inscription); see most extensively (for all Lydia, especially Thyatira) Kraabel, “Judaism in Asia Minor,” 155–97.

[927]. Beasley-Murray, Revelation, 89–90; Yamauchi, Cities, 53.

[928]. Harland, Associations, 115–36.

[929]. Aune, Revelation, 213; cf. Strabo 13.4.4; for commerce and industry there, cf. Weiser, Apostelgeschichte, 422.

[930]. See, e.g., Hemer, Acts in History, 114; Reimer, Women, 99–100; cf. Ryan, “Lydia”; earlier, already Lightfoot, “Third Notebook on Acts,” 18 (from Witherington). For the prosperity of its dyers’ guild, see, e.g., Magie, Roman Rule, 1:48n80. Charlesworth, Trade Routes, 94, claims that Thyatira “was renowned for its purple-dyeworks.” For trade guilds in Lydia more generally, see, e.g., SEG 29 (1979); Horsley, Documents, 3:54, §17.

[931]. Ramsay, Letters, 324. Trade guilds are, of course, important elsewhere (in Judea, see thoroughly Applebaum, “Economic Life,” 684–85, including t. Sukkah 4:6; ʾOhal. 4:2; B. Meṣiʿa 2:24), but they were of special importance in Asia (for Jewish dyers’ guilds at Phrygian Hierapolis, see Applebaum, “Social Status,” 716–17, citing CIJ 2:36, §777); for commerce in Asia Minor, see Charlesworth, Trade Routes, 76–96.

[932]. Harrill, “Asia Minor,” 132. For more on dyeing in Lydia, see Pliny E. N.H. 7.56.195 (Horsley, Documents, 3:53, §17).

[933]. Ramsay, Letters, 325–26; Yamauchi, Cities, 54; Hemer, Acts in History, 114; Blue, “House Church,” 186n258; Schnabel, Acts, 680. Ovid Metam. 6.8–9 speaks of “Phocaean purple,” presumably from near Smyrna. Charlesworth, Trade Routes, 93, notes the coccus plant near Cilicia, used for purple dyeing (citing Pliny E. N.H. 16.32; also styrax [storax], N.H. 12.125). Coccus may refer to the coccus insect that fed on the kermes oak; the insect could be crushed for dye.

[934]. Lake and Cadbury, Commentary, 191; Hemer, Acts in History, 114–15; Gill, “Élites,” 115; Ascough, Lydia, 80. Purple wool was also prominent in Miletus (Yamauchi, Cities, 122).

[935]. This part of the text is reconstructed, but enough letters remain to make this reading probable.

[936]. Yamauchi, Cities, 53; Hemer, Acts in History, 115; Gill, “Élites,” 115; Ascough, Lydia, 80.

[937]. Kraabel, “Synagogue and Community,” 181, citing CIJ 2, §§775, 777. See already Lightfoot, Colossians, 11, 22.

[938]. Kraabel, “Synagogue and Community,” 181.

[939]. Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 117.

[940]. Available in Sherk, Empire, 229, §173, I and J.

[941]. See Lewis, Life, 136, based on the papyri. On dyeing textiles, see briefly Pekridou-Gorecki, “Dyeing,” and her sources.

[942]. Goodman, State, 56, citing Jos. Ant. 18.314 (on the weaving, though this is in Mesopotamia) and m. B. Qam. 9:4 (on the dyeing). The Josephus reference has been applied to scale armor (Cohen, “Asinaeus”), but it is based on a supposed Aramaic lapse that is, at best, uncertain.

[943]. See Koester, Introduction, 1:77.

[944]. Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 76.

[945]. Judge, Pattern, 36.

[946]. Cf. perhaps ILS 7600, from Rome: “Thymele, Marcella’s dealer in silk” (Sherk, Empire, 227, §172); for slaves as business agents, e.g., Cic. Fam. 13.45.1; for freedpersons, see Lampe, “Patrons,” 489; for slaves and freedpersons, Meeks, Urban Christians, 57; for freedpersons and clients, Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 66. Cf. some interpretations of 1 Cor 1:11 (Ramsay, “Roads and Travel,” 397; Fee, Corinthians, 54; for slaves or freedpersons, Meeks, Urban Christians, 59).

[947]. Gardner, Women, 233–37, esp. 234. For women working, see discussion at Acts 18:3.

[948]. Arlandson, Women, 73–82; see comment on Acts 18:3.

[949]. Gardner, Women, 233.

[950]. Bruce, Commentary, 331; Barrett, Acts, 783.

[951]. Reimer, Women, 100–101. Textile work was long and laborious; even spinning wheels did not predate the later medieval period (Cary and Haarhoff, Life, 116).

[952]. Barrett, Acts, 782.

[953]. Gardner, Women, 238–39.

[954]. E.g., Fee, Corinthians, 54; cf. Meeks, Urban Christians, 60; Malherbe, Social Aspects, 75. On women in commerce, see Gardner, Women, 233–37; Balch, “Families,” 274; Winter, Wives, 174–76; idem, Left Corinth, 199; comment on Acts 18:3.

[955]. Verner, Household, 168, 180; Best, Peter, 125.

[956]. Keener, Paul, 30–31; idem, “Head Coverings,” 446.

[957]. Reimer, Women, 112.

[958]. On status inconsistency, see, e.g., Lenski, “Status Crystallization.”

[959]. Meeks, Urban Christians, 62; Heine, Women, 84; Yamauchi, Stones, 115.

[960]. Spencer, Acts, 165, citing Plut. Per. 1; Pliny E. N.H. 9.60, 64; Mart. Epig. 1.49.32; 4.4.6; 9.62 (for the full force of Martial’s humor, cf. Ker, Martial, LCL, 1:233n3; 2:121n1; for the double-dyeing to which he refers, cf. Friedländer, Life, 2:175); for the odor, see also Croom, Clothing, 23. On the manufacture of purple dye and cloth, see Reimer, Women, 102–5.

[961]. Spencer, Acts, 165, comparing the role of Simon the tanner in Acts 9:43.

[962]. Chrys. Hom. Acts 35.

[963]. Merchants transported luxury goods, including dyes, over great distances (e.g., Rev 18:11–12; Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 71; Casson, Mariners, 198–206; Bauckham, Climax, 352–66).

[964]. Reimer, Women, 105–9. She argues (112) that this was probably a “subsistence occupation.”

[965]. For freedpersons in general as an “upwardly mobile” group in this period, see, e.g., Jeffers, World, 232–33; for freedpersons in business, see, e.g., ILS 7486 (Sherk, Empire, 228, §173F).

[966]. Cf. Cic. Fam. 13.45.1, recommending the slave of a close friend who did banking in Asia.

[967]. Gill, “Élites,” 114–15 (citing an example from Hierapolis in Phrygia).

[968]. See Lang, “Neues.”

[969]. Winter, Left Corinth, 187.

[970]. Both overhead and profits were probably less for “imitation” Thyatiran purple.

[971]. Admittedly, the needs of such traveling teachers were probably simple (cf. 1 Cor 4:11–12; Paul may have also worked in Philippi [lacking other means; cf. Phil 4:15; 1 Thess 2:9]), like those of philosophers needing hospitality (Socrates Ep. 2, to Xenophon).

[972]. See discussion at Acts 3:2.

[973]. Ascough, Lydia, 25–26. Greeks, whom he estimates at some 7,800 in Philippi, probably composed more than half the population (which he estimates at 15,000); he estimates Greeks involved in service groups at 28 percent of the population, or about 4,200.

[974]. See comment on Acts 18:3.

[975]. Reimer, Women, 112.

[976]. He may then presuppose divine intervention in such cases.

[977]. See further Malherbe, Social Aspects, 73.

[978]. For households including servants, see comment on Acts 10:2. The suggested distinction between οἰκία (a building) and οἶκος (household) does not hold here, since οἶκος has each meaning once in the same verse (see comment on Acts 10:2; 12:12).

[979]. On dyeing and the principal colors (from red to purple), see further, e.g., Pilch, “Colors”; on purple, see further Danker, “Purple”; Croom, Clothing, 26–28; Reid, “Purple”; Hünemörder, “Purple”; Doumet, Étude; Ziderman, “Identification.”

[980]. MacDonald, “Lydia,” 109–10. Had the association between the location of Lydia and Dionysus worship (109) been important, Luke could have set the scene there; nor was this geographic association paramount by this period (in contrast to, e.g., Cybele’s association with Phrygia). Cf. now also MacDonald, “Poetry,” 466–67 (drawing more widely on Luke’s treatment of ecstasy). My skepticism on a connection between Lydia and maenads should not be interpreted as skepticism that Luke draws on Euripidean imagery at some points (e.g., Acts 5:39).

[981]. This is not to deny the possibility of Lydia’s involvement in the local Bacchus cult, prominent in Philippi, before her conversion (although she was a foreigner, not a local Roman citizen), but to deny that Luke provides evidence for this, and especially to deny that her Thyatiran origin or purple selling points to this. If she had a prophetic role as a Christian, Luke would not need to suppress mention of this datum (Acts 2:17–18; 21:9), although he might also not stress it if prophecy was too pervasive to require such explicit mention (1 Cor 14:31). Matthews, Converts, 73–74, also finds Euripides’s Bacchanals in the background, though because of Lydian women (rather than purple) and not as directly as Otto Weinreich had.

[982]. Yamauchi, Cities, 54; Blue, “House Church,” 186n258. See discussion above.

[983]. Cf. also the dyeing of expensive document covers with juice from purple berries (purpureo . . . vaccinia fuco, Ovid Tristia 1.1.5, if meant literally). The kermes insect provided a shade from red to “Tyrian,” and some flowers also resembled the murex (Pliny E. N.H. 21.22.45); on vegetable dyes, see 22.3.3–5.

[984]. Dio Chrys. Or. 77/78.4 (LCL, 5:263).

[985]. Even if Philippian hearers remembered or continued to know Lydia, they might not know the details of her business at the time of her conversion. Possibly Luke feels free to name her because she no longer lived in Philippi (if Christians continued to face prejudice there; cf. Phil 1:28–29), though that is speculation.

[986]. See the thorough study of Reinhold, History of Purple. On its early use, see also Forbes, Technology, 4:114–22.

[987]. Ziderman, “Purple Dyeing.” For dyeing as a developed and significant art in Egypt, see Pliny E. N.H. 35.42.150.

[988]. Aeschylus Ag. 958–60 (hence will never run out); 1 Macc 4:29.

[989]. E.g., Pliny E. N.H. 5.17.76; Ach. Tat. 2.11 (recounting its legendary discovery); Philost. Hrk. 53.22. For these “purple-shells,” see Athen. Deipn. 3.88 (following Arist. Hist. An. 5.544).

[990]. Wild, “Dyeing.”

[991]. Further on purples, see Pliny E. N.H. 9.60.125–9.65.141. In 9.60.125, Pliny addresses the habits of purples (purpurae), which are like murexes (murices).

[992]. Croom, Clothing, 27, estimates ten thousand shellfish.

[993]. Khalifeh, “Sarepta,” 489. Through its history, Sarepta sometimes belonged to Tyre, sometimes (as in Luke 4:26) to Sidon (Salles, “Sarepta”).

[994]. Cf. “Phocaean purple” (Ovid Metam. 6.8–9, near Smyrna); “Laconian purple” (Hor. Odes 2.18.7–8, in southern Greece). Cf. the purple-dye industry near the border of Israel and Phoenicia in the ninth century B.C.E. in Karmon and Spanier, “Remains.”

[995]. Epigraphic evidence cited by Horsley, Documents, 2:25, §3. The mussels and seashells were common in the Mediterranean, but Phoenicia produced the best (Dupont, Life, 260).

[996]. Charlesworth, Trade Routes, 125.

[997]. Wild, “Dyeing.” Vitruv. Arch. 7.14.1 notes the use of madder to produce purple. He also points out (7.13.1–2) that climate conditions affected purple dye, so that it was dark in the far north, red in the far south, violet in the east and west, and bluish elsewhere.

[998]. People also explored North African coasts for murex and purple (Pliny E. N.H. 5.1.12).

[999]. Meeks, Urban Christians, 46.

[1000]. Hor. Sat. 2.4.84; Virg. Aen. 4.262; Georg. 3.17, 307; Petron. Sat. 30; Mart. Epig. 2.29.3; 8.10; 8.48.1; Juv. Sat. 1.27; Sil. It. 15.116; Prop. Elegies 3.13.7; 3.14.27; 4.5.22; Char. Chaer. 8.1.14; 8.6.7; Apul. Metam. 10.20. Cf. perhaps 2 Chr 2:14. See also discussion in Jensen, “Royal Purple.”

[1001]. E.g., Paus. 5.12.4. For Sidonian purple, see Hor. Ep. 1.10.26.

[1002]. See Haran, “Image,” 202; Greenspan, “Blue”; cf. Haran, Temples, 158. Access to blue was limited before Hellenistic times (Forbes, Technology, 4:110); Romans obtained much blue from indigo from India (Pliny E. N.H. 33.57.163–64; 35.37.46); for another version of blue, see Vitruv. Arch. 7.11.1.

[1003]. Livy 27.4.10; sea purple, i.e., genuine purple, in Mus. Ruf. 20, p. 124.9.

[1004]. E.g., Hor. Odes 2.18.7–8; Petron. Sat. 38, 54; Sen. Y. Phaed. 387–88; Pliny E. N.H. 9.60.124; Epict. frg. 11; Plut. Bride 30, Mor. 142C; Mart. Epig. 4.28.2; 5.8.5; 8.48.1; Juv. Sat. 4.31; Lucian Portr. 11; Jos. Ant. 18.191; Test. Ab. 4:2 A; Sib. Or. 8.74; cf. the expensive “Tyrian tapestries” (Hor. Sat. 2.4.84).

[1005]. E.g., Plut. Table 3.1.2, Mor. 646B; Pliny E. N.H. 9.53.104–5; cf. the parody in Lucian True Story 2.12; for its lack of genuine profitability, see Dio Chrys. Or. 3.93. Imperial restrictions on lavish use suggest attempts to control wasteful fashions (see Friedländer, Life, 2:176).

[1006]. Friedländer, Life, 2:175. Cf. the “double-dyed” purple “inner tunic” in Apul. Flor. 9.18.

[1007]. Alciph. Paras. 10 (Stemphylochaeron to Trapezocharon), 3.46, §4 (humorously).

[1008]. Toner, Culture, 137. Although the prices are many times higher than they were in the first century, the relative cost vis-à-vis other items is probably comparable.

[1009]. E.g., 1 Macc 14:43; Jos. Asen. 2:8/14–15; Lucret. Nat. 5.1423; Sen. Y. Dial. 12.11.2; Apul. Metam. 10.20. Cf. also 1 Macc 4:29; 1 En. 98:2; Sib. Or. 3.658–59; Exod 28:5–8, 15, 33; 39:2–8; Judg 8:26; 2 Chr 2:7, 14; Esth 1:6; 8:15; Song 3:10; Jer 10:9; Dan 5:7, 16, 29; Rev 17:4; 18:12, 16.

[1010]. The idea is not likely Xenophon’s invention, though he is writing a novel; cf. “the Tyrian nuptial couch” (Juv. Sat. 10.334).

[1011]. Cf. the wealthy sophist’s purple tunic, gold ring, and other elaborate apparel in Apul. Flor. 9.18–21.

[1012]. Pliny E. N.H. 9.60.127. That the purple was limited to stripes may suggest the expense (Friedländer, Life, 176).

[1013]. Ps.-Melissa Letter to Kleareta (quoted in Malherbe, Moral Exhortation, 83); Lucian Hall 7. For courtesans’ bright-colored clothing, see, e.g., Tac. Dial. 26.

[1014]. See Ps.-Melissa Letter to Kleareta (in Malherbe, Moral Exhortation, 83).

[1015]. Cf. Achilles’s purple rugs in Hom. Il. 9.200.

[1016]. The wearer in Sib. Or. 3.389 may be Alexander (so Collins in OTP 1:370 n. s2).

[1017]. In Greek reports or surmises, e.g., Char. Chaer. 6.4.2; 8.1.14; Ps.-Callisth. Alex. 2.14; cf. Cyrus in Cic. Senect. 17.59. The Persian palace at Susa allegedly contained five thousand talents’ weight of purple, preserved with honey (Plut. Alex. 36.1).

[1018]. So for Joseph in the Hellenistic romance in Jos. Asen. 5:5/6; for Pharaoh’s gift to Sarai in 1Qap Gen^ar XX, 31.

[1019]. The purple was exclusively royal in 1 Macc 14:43–44; no one else was permitted to wear it (14:44).

[1020]. Pesiq. Rab Kah. 2:7; 15:3.

[1021]. Appian Hist. rom. 12.1.5; Fronto Eloq. 1.12; Hdn. 4.1.3; 6.8.5; cf. 5.5.3.

[1022]. E.g., Fronto Eloq. 1.12.

[1023]. See Yamauchi, Cities, 53; cf. Croom, Clothing, 27. Some kings, notably those in Pergamum, already ran their own textile factories before Roman rule (Cary and Haarhoff, Life, 120).

[1024]. Maclean and Aitken, Heroikos, xliv; cf. Robinson, Criminal Law, 77.

[1025]. Croom, Clothing, 27, citing Amm. Marc. 26.8.8.

[1026]. That Rome punished Thessaly for this illegal trade indicates that the allusion comes from no earlier than 222–35 C.E. (Maclean and Aitken, Heroikos, xliv).

[1027]. Yamauchi, Cities, 54. On the widespread use of such insect dye in red food coloring in the modern West, see, e.g., http://www.businessinsider.com/how-cochineal-insects-color-your-food-and-drinks-2012-3?op=1, accessed March 30, 2013.

[1028]. Max. Tyre 1.9, without criticizing it; cf. Fronto Eloq. 1.12, again without criticism.

[1029]. The term for the latter, φοινικίς, was probably originally associated with Phoenicia. “Purple” covered a much broader spectrum of colors than is the case today (Dupont, Life, 260; cf. Mark 15:17, 20; John 19:2, 5; with Matt 27:28).

[1030]. Croom, Clothing, 23.

[1031]. See Ascough, Lydia, 29–33 (on 31–32 comparing a homeowner in the service industry in Acts 10:6 and a woman in 12:12–13). Such a house, presumably in the Roman style (because of Philippi’s colony status), probably had plastered walls, painted with “pastoral scenes,” myths, and so forth, and floor mosaics (34). Cf. Martha’s welcome, apparently into her own home, of Jesus and his disciples in Luke 10:38.

[1032]. Ascough, Lydia, 19.

[1033]. Blue, “House Church,” 182.

[1034]. Households provided social networks for kinship and patron-client relations (Meeks, Moral World, 111–12; cf. idem, Urban Christians, 75), so that a message could be spread relatively privately. Social networks mattered even for philosophic conversion (Eshleman, “Affection”).

[1035]. Liefeld, “Preacher,” 239–42 (including Lucian Runaways 18; Iren. Her. 1.13.3; 1.23.2, 4); cf. 1 Tim 5:13; 2 Tim 3:6; for others targeting wealthy women, Juv. Sat. 1.38–39.

[1036]. For religious patronage, see, e.g., Pliny Ep. 3.4.2; 4.1.5; for synagogues, CIJ 1:522, §722; 2:99–100, §861; 2:332–35, §1404; Luke 7:5; Overman, Crisis, 115; White, Origins of Architecture, 1:77–85; Trebilco, “Communities,” 568; Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 48.

[1037]. Horsley, Documents, 2:28–29, §3, cites as examples P.Wisc. 2.54; P.Oxy. 44.3198, 3202; 45.3242.185–87; BGU 13.2222, 2223, 2224, 2343; CPR 5.2.9; P.Mich. 13.662, 664, 669.

[1038]. Arlandson, Women, 69–73 (including the Jewish woman Babata); see esp. Saller, “Mater familias” (noting their authority over their dependants).

[1039]. By remaining under her father’s authority, the daughter escaped that of the husband (Verner, Household, 39).

[1040]. The inscription is available in Sherk, Empire, 242, §184; for inheritance from a mother in a novel, see Ach. Tat. 1.3.1.

[1041]. Barker, “Census Returns,” in Horsley, Documents, 4, p. 93, §21. Greek practices in Egypt would say more about typical arrangements outside Egypt than traditional Egyptian ones would.

[1042]. Philod. Prop. col. 2.3–9 (regarding this as “common knowledge” [trans. Tsouna, p. 17]); cf. Prov 31:10–31, esp. 31:11–12, 23.

[1043]. With Matson, Conversion Narratives, 143. The home need not have been as lavish (with wall paintings and floor mosaics) as elite homes (described in Jeffers, World, 54).

[1044]. As expected in homes of sufficient size; see, e.g., Lysias Or. 3.6, §97; Heliod. Eth. 6.1. For Galilean homes, see, e.g., Freyne, Galilee, Jesus, 153; Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 84; on Roman tenements, see comment on Acts 28:16.

[1045]. Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 115–16 (though noting that their status remained lower than that of comparable men); Pomeroy, Goddesses, 139.

[1046]. Cf. Rebekah’s invitation (due to approaching nightfall, as in Luke 24:29; Gen 19:2–3; Judg 19:20) in Jos. Ant. 1.250, as part of a larger family. Cf. perhaps analogously conservative religious culture in more recent times (e.g., Whitefield, Journals, 439). Apuleius expresses no embarrassment even about residing for a year in the home of a widow, whom he afterward married (though he notes that it was at the son’s invitation, Apol. 72–73).

[1047]. Reimer, Women, 111, opts reasonably for workers, mostly women; this is probably the best guess. Baptism of her “household” therefore “provides no information about the baptism of children or infants” (Conzelmann, Acts, 130, against Jeremias; see comment on Acts 10:2). Yet Barrett, Acts, 652, goes too far the other direction in doubting (because of the silence of such passages) that baptism was always practiced. Luke’s conversion accounts provide only samples of each component of conversion in any given case (e.g., repentance or faith).

[1048]. Ramsay, Pictures, 179; Ryan, “Lydia”; Bruce, Acts¹, 314; more tentatively, Witherington, Acts, 493. Ascough, Lydia, 35–45 (esp. 45), notes that Lydia may have been a divorcée, but offers a significant case that she was “more likely widowed,” with at least three to four surviving children (legally necessary to retain substantial means), and that this is the status “most naturally assumed” by ancient readers.

[1049]. Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 112 (noting that some women did become wealthy from inheritances left by their fathers). Classical Athenian law allowed a widow to inherit if there were no sons, but the nearest relative then had to marry her (Isaeus Aristarch. 5); the widow also inherits in the declamation law in Quint. Decl. 247 intro.; 306 intro.; 347.2, 6. The Voconian law allowed only half the estate to go to a woman (Quint. Decl. 264 intro.).

[1050]. Gill, “Élites,” 115, gives the example of Eumachia of Pompeii, patroness for the guild of the fullers. Various cultures made provision for daughters to inherit; cf. Num 27:7; Hallo and Younger, Context of Scripture, 3.61, pp. 147–51; 3.64, pp. 157–59.

[1051]. Ascough, Lydia, 51, notes that laws permitted women more freedom regarding inheritances from the Augustan and Claudian periods. She could have acquired means as a freedwoman, through an inheritance, or through divorce or (more commonly) widowhood (ibid.).

[1052]. On widows’ independence in Roman law, see, e.g., Lintott, Romans, 97–98. Hellenistic Jewish historians took note of women when they began to act independently, sometimes as widows (see Sievers, “Women in Hasmonean Dynasty,” esp. 144–45).

[1053]. Horsley, Documents, 2:29–31, §3, cites P.Oxy. 12.1467; P.Mil.Vogl. 6.269; SB 12.11233; P.Wisc. 2.58; P.Coll.Youtie 2.92; P.Mich. 13.663. In CPJ 3:9–10, §453, an apparently Jewish woman owns land, but her son acts for her (October 19, 132 C.E.).

[1054]. Barker, “Census Returns,” 93; Blue, “House Church,” 185n255.

[1055]. Barker, “Census Returns.” One concern that Blue (“House Church,” 185) raises with this study is the supposedly unique situation that either spouse could divorce there (following Taubenschlag, Law of Egypt), but this was also the case in Greek and Roman Law (Keener, Marries Another, 51–52; Buckland, Roman Law, 117; O’Rourke, “Law,” 181; Pomeroy, Goddesses, 64; Rawson, “Family,” 32).

[1056]. Dupont, Life, 109–10.

[1057]. Cf. Schnabel, Acts, 680, suggesting that she may have been “widowed or divorced,” without excluding other options.

[1058]. Keener, Acts, 2:1304–6.

[1059]. Even in this case, wealthy older women were sometimes accused of providing younger men upward mobility in return for sexual favors (Juv. Sat. 1.38–39).

[1060]. Greek and Roman views of sexual immorality were much less concerned with most forms of unmarried intercourse than was Judaism (see, e.g., Keener, “Adultery,” 10–11), and so, apart from ridicule, observers had less reason to be concerned even if they had thought she did more than feed him. By contrast, a married woman could arouse suspicion by associating with men (e.g., Eurip. El. 343–44; Livy 34.2.9; 34.4.18; Val. Max. 6.3.12; Mus. Ruf. 3, p. 42.13–14; m. Ketub. 7:6). For the sexual double standard in antiquity, see Philost. Vit. soph. 2.25.610; Robinson, Criminal Law, 59; Peterman, “Marriage”; Winter, Wives, 19; Wagner-Hasel, “Roles: Greece,” 742; Baugh, “Marriage,” 111; in some other, more recent, cultures, see, e.g., Nukunya, Kinship, 70–71; Stephens, Family, 246; Schapera, Life, 20–21, 205–7. Early Christian teachers opposed the double standard (Theodoret Comm. 1 Cor. 201 [Bray, Corinthians, 60]).

[1061]. Liefeld, “Preacher,” 239–40, as noted above. Dionysus was so criticized, but he destroyed the complainers (Diod. Sic. 3.64.2; cf. 4.2.6).

[1062]. Even public banquets with married women whose husbands were not present could raise the suspicion of adultery (Cic. Verr. 2.5.31.81).

[1063]. E.g., Cic. Att. 1.13; Plut. Caes. 10.6; b. Ber. 43b; cf. Isoc. Demon. 17; m. ʾAb. 2:1; 3:10; t. ʿAbod. Zar. 1:10–14; 6:6; Ber. 3:3; y. Šeqal. 3:2. False accusations were scandalous (Cic. Phil. 2.38.99; Deut 22:17–18).

[1064]. At least Luke and Timothy; we do not know if others also accompanied the group.

[1065]. Cf. Eurip. El. 343–44; Theophr. Char. 28.3; Livy 34.2.9; 34.4.18; Val. Max. 5.3.10–12 (in Harrell, Divorce, 31); m. ʾAb. 1:5; Ketub. 7:6 (leading to divorce); t. Šabb. 1:14; b. ʿErub. 53b.

[1066]. Rabbis thought that honorable men should not converse with women in the street (b. Ber. 43b, bar.), some even claiming this for one’s wife or relatives (b. Ber. 43b).

[1067]. Y. ʿAbod. Zar. 2:3, §1; Soṭah 1:1, §7.

[1068]. Ilan, “Women to Pharisaism”; Sanders, Figure, 109.

[1069]. Given Luke’s apologetic for Paul (see Keener, Acts, 1:223–24, 445–49; also idem, “Apologetic”), Luke’s mention of women traveling with Jesus may have helped protect Paul’s reputation here.

[1070]. Cf. Jeremias, Jerusalem, 376; Gnilka, Jesus, 179; Stanton, Gospels, 202; Witherington, Women, 117. As Witherington, Women, 117, points out, this is hardly likely an invention of the early church. Some, such as Joanna, may have had more mobility (Koenig, Hospitality, 33).

[1071]. Jewett, Male, 145–46.

[1072]. Hock, Social Context, 29, suggests that an inn was the likeliest place for Paul’s stay (“for a certain number of days,” Acts 16:12), though people also sometimes boarded in gymnasia or temples (citing for temples Philost. Vit. Apoll. 4.40; 5.20; 8.15; Diogenes Ep. 37.1–2; Ach. Tat. 8.7.2).

[1073]. See, e.g., Pomeroy, Goddesses, 200; Hemelrijk, “Patronesses.”

[1074]. Gardner, Women, 239–40. Further on women as patrons of guilds, see Pomeroy, Goddesses, 200–201.

[1075]. E.g., Lefkowitz and Fant, Life, 24, §48 (Pleket 5); 243–44, §232 (CIL 10.6328 = ILS 6278). Honorary inscriptions praise women especially for benefaction; see Forbis, “Image.” Perhaps 5 to 10 percent of association patrons were women (Meeks, Urban Christians, 24).

[1076]. Pomeroy, Goddesses, 201 (noting two clear examples); White, Origins of Architecture, 1:81, on a patroness from the region of Lydia (our Lydia’s homeland). For women patrons in house churches, see Osiek and MacDonald, Place, 194–220. Gr. Anth. 7.728 concerns a pagan priestess who was patroness of many younger women.

[1077]. Jos. Ant. 20.195; Life 16. On Josephus’s portrayal of high-status women lovers of Judaism (Poppaea, Fulvia, and Helena), see also Matthews, “Ladies’ Aid.”

[1078]. E.g., Jos. Ant. 20.135 (though Josephus dislikes Agrippina; see 20.151–52).

[1079]. Ferguson, Backgrounds, 61. On benefaction, see comment on Acts 4:9; also, briefly, comment on Acts 19:31.

[1080]. On patronage (with various approaches), see, e.g., Friedländer, Life, 1:195–202; Carcopino, Life, 171–73; Lampe, “Patrons,” 488–94; deSilva, “Patronage”; Crossan, Jesus, 59–65; Malina and Pilch, Letters, 382–85; Shelton, Romans, 11–15 (for imperial Rome, 13–15). In early Christianity, see Elliott, “Patronage”; for an intertextual reading from a Hispanic perspective, see Agosto, “Social Analysis.”

[1081]. See further Joubert, “Exchange.”

[1082]. Gehrke, “Euergetism,” 155.

[1083]. Cf. Lintott, “Cliens,” 451. Thus one who is campaigning should promise whatever he can safely fulfill (Cic. Handb. Elec. 45); keeping two patrons both happy with one’s obligations was no easy task (Fam. 7.29.1–2).

[1084]. Joubert, “Patronus” (arguing in idem, “Dionisius,” that this emphasis stems from Augustus’s time).

[1085]. Lintott, “Cliens,” 452; cf. Lampe, “Patrons,” 493–94; Kraybill, Cult and Commerce, 78–80; Lewis, Life, 196–97.

[1086]. Stambaugh, City, 134; see esp. Res gest. 15.1–24.2 (Sherk, Empire, 45–47, §26).

[1087]. Tac. Ann. 3.55.2; Hist. 1.4.

[1088]. Lintott, “Cliens,” 452, citing Suet. Vesp. 2.2; Mart. 2.18; 3.46.

[1089]. Garnsey and Saller, Empire, 151–52 (citing, e.g., Mart. Epig. 2.68; 3.7; 8.42; Tac. Ann. 3.55). Cicero moved his house to make it more accessible to the crowds of visitors (Plut. Cic. 8.3–4); for coming in early morning to pay respects, see also Statius Silv. 4.9.48–53; Mart. Epig. 3.36.1–3; Lucian Slip 1; cf., for legal advice, Hor. Sat. 1.1.9–10. For clients’ or protégés’ attending when the patron spoke in court or gave a reading, see, e.g., Pliny Ep. 6.6.6.

[1090]. Stambaugh, City, 93, 199–200; Lintott, “Cliens,” 451; Winter, Left Corinth, 188–89; see, e.g., Tac. Agr. 40.

[1091]. Harrison, Grace, 15. See especially MacGillivray, “Patronage,” 46–54, 80, who considers the language of patronage inappropriate in the East. On the lack of evidence for patronage in ancient Judaism, see 54–80 (including literary sources in 54–67 and epigraphic sources in 71–80).

[1092]. Harrison, Grace, 16.

[1093]. E.g., Pliny Ep. 4.1.4–5 (he is the town’s patronus, 4.1.4); CIL 6.1492 (in Sherk, Empire, 248, §193, from 101 to 102 C.E.); cf. Pliny Ep. 9.15.1–2. On patrons of rural communities, see also MacMullen, Social Relations, 4–5, 47, and passim; Lampe, “Patrons,” 493; for patrons (benefactors) of local Egyptian cults, see Frankfurter, Religion in Egypt, 77–82; in late antiquity (offering a precursor for relations between medieval serfs and lords), see Krause, “Patrocinium” (esp. 618).

[1094]. The civic-benefaction inscriptions of the Greek East concern primarily public benefactions (though Romans could engage in such benefactions as well; Clarke, “Italy,” 472), for which reason I have drawn on the Roman model even though Lydia was not herself Roman.

[1095]. Thus Mus. Ruf. 19, p. 122.24–27, emphasized benefiting many and (122.29–30) investing in making friends through benefaction rather than in a house.

[1096]. E.g., Pliny Ep. 3.4.2; cf. Gr. Anth. 7.728; Chow, Patronage, 64–68; White, Origins of Architecture, 1:30–31; in Egypt, CIJ 1:xciv–xcv.

[1097]. See White, Origins of Architecture, 1:58–59.

[1098]. Ibid., 1:77–85; Kasher, “M’srt”; Katzoff, “Suffragium” (on Exod. Rab. 37:2); Brooten, Women Leaders, 151; cf. the proselyte patronus in CIJ 1:340f, §462; προστάτης, 1:71, §100; 1:284, §365. Rabbis were also well aware of patrons (y. Ber. 9:1; Midr. Pss. 4, §3), as were other Jewish sources from the East (CPJ 2:20–22, §148, on a former slaveholder as πάτρων, in 10 B.C.E.; later, Michael in Apoc. Sed. 14:1). Problems with the patronage model may have also affected Paul’s churches, especially in Corinth (which had the most Romans in leadership; cf. various suggestions in Kirner, “Apostolat”; Carter, “Big Men”; Winter, Left Corinth, 184–86).

[1099]. The language of debt was quite common in discussions of benefaction (Garnsey and Saller, Empire, 148); obligation was central to Roman ethics and was important in Roman law (Winter, Left Corinth, 130–31).

[1100]. Pliny Ep. 6.6.3, 5–6; 6.26.2; 6.34.2 (also noting the display of generosity involved).

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