Voyage to Rome (27:1–28:15)
To Paul’s recent legal success, Luke now adds divine vindication through storm, shipwreck, and snakebite. Paul’s destiny is to testify before Caesar in Rome (19:21; 23:11; 27:24), and nothing will prevent him from fulfilling his calling. On the way, he manages to save many other lives through his obedience and prayer to the true God. Whatever the ultimate outcome of the hearing before Caesar, the hearer of Acts will understand that Paul has been divinely vindicated.
Luke’s Gospel arranged probably chronologically disparate material about Jesus’s ministry around his final, fateful journey to Jerusalem (Luke 9–19). Paul likewise undertakes many journeys (although their geographic details allow Luke a firmer chronology here than in the Gospel) in Acts 13:4–14:28; 15:36–18:1; 18:18–19:1; 20:1–21:16.1 But Paul’s final voyage in the work is 27:1–28:16, a voyage that not only organizes dramatic elements but is dramatic in its own right.2 Earlier voyages may foreshadow this one for Luke’s audience; everyone knew that storms and shipwrecks were frequent, so Paul might face one sooner or later.3 The disaster in Acts 27 can serve Luke’s apologetic4 for Paul’s Roman mission: Paul would surely have perished before reaching the imperial court had God not planned for him to testify there (23:11; 27:24). Whatever the outcome of Paul’s hearing, then, Paul’s testimony there was God’s will, despite the claims of his critics.5
Luke addresses Paul’s final voyage in special detail. This section merits such detail for Luke because of the adventure (useful for the same audience to whom the narrative genre appealed), because Luke was present (and hence had access to more detail), and because Paul was finally en route to Rome, the heart of the empire (19:21; cf. 1:8), toward which Acts has been moving for some time (e.g., 2:10; 10:1–2; 13:12; 16:21, 37–38; 18:2–3, 12–17; 19:21). Any ancient auditor embarrassed by Paul’s Roman captivity (cf. Eph 3:1, 13; Phil 1:17; 2 Tim 1:8, 12, 16–17) should remember that he was able to reach Rome only by divine care.
The section also further develops Paul’s ἦθος. Paul warns (27:9–10); he reassures, having gained God’s favor for all (27:21–26); he gives instructions to protect everyone (27:31, 33–35). He also helps others practically (28:3), survives miraculously (28:5–6), and brings healing to the sick (28:8–9). Consequently, his honor keeps growing both within the narrative (27:31–32, 43; 28:10) and for Luke’s audience.
Various issues in this narrative invite introductory treatment. Of these, particularly important is a comparison with other sea voyage narratives, with a bearing on Luke’s literary models and perhaps a discussion of the narrative’s historical substance. We must also survey the account’s function for Luke and the paradigm it could offer for his audience.6
Literary artfulness and historical tradition are by no means incompatible; historians who also proved adept at recounting their stories were not for that reason any less historians. F. F. Bruce long ago argued that Luke drew on the literary tradition of storms and shipwrecks established as early (in extant sources) as the Odyssey, while noting that this observation did not detract from the historical substance of Luke’s report.7 This compatibility has, however, been debated, and it will be explored more fully below.
Scholars have traced the development of various kinds of sea travel narratives, which appear in a variety of genres. In one form of travel narrative, early Greek ethnographers used sea travels to frame their accounts of different peoples encountered on such voyages; these evolved into periploi, a genre describing lands from the standpoint of ships voyaging along their coasts.8 Such accounts were distinct from historical descriptions (e.g., Arrian Ind. 18–42), myths (Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 1.49–53), epics (Hom. Od. 9–12), and novels (Lucian True Story).9 Luke’s interests are not, of course, geographic (although his geography proves accurate),10 nor does he write of ancient myths or compose novels for entertainment. Certainly one cannot simply identify a single Hellenistic “sea-voyage genre.”11
Susan Marie Praeder notes that most ancient travelogues are longer than Acts 27–28.12 Although most periploi focused on coastal geography, quite unlike Luke,13 travelogues do appear in a range of genres: Cic. Fam. 16.9.2 is similar in length and interests to Acts’ account; other accounts appear in “poems, factual itineraries and fictional, fantastic adventures. . . . Thus the fact that Acts 27:1–8 and 28:11–16 are travelogues is no guarantee of their literary genre, reliability or unreliability.”14
Although sea storms and shipwrecks appear in a wide variety of genres, many scholars have identified them as constituting a literary type scene with its own set conventions; that is, in whatever genre one was writing, certain details would normally be emphasized in such scenes.15 As Praeder points out, “By the first century A.D. storm scenes were part of literary tradition and part of rhetorical training.”16 Naturally, some such details were necessary simply to address the very situations involved in confronting storms or shipwrecks,17 and so we will need to evaluate the reported conventions more closely to see which are genuinely significant as conventions. Some later writers used Homer’s sea storms (Od. 5.291–473; 12.402–25) as models for their own narratives, including Virg. Aen. 1.34–179 (which became the Roman model).18 Such literary models affected “everything from navigators’ notes to pure fiction.”19
Scholars emphasizing parallels with fictitious storms often neglect contrasts, such as “stylized descriptions of waves piling up like mountains, the battle of opposing winds, thunder and lightning,” and the like.20 Luke employs a broad nautical vocabulary (such as his term for “ship” in 27:41; though cf. 1 Kgs 9:26–27; 10:11, 22; 2 Chr 9:21; Prov 30:19; 31:14; Wis 5:10; 4 Macc 7:1; twenty-seven times in Josephus) to exhibit his rhetorical skill, and it is plausible that he may have derived some of his vocabulary from Greek literary tradition as well as sailing. Nevertheless, the narrative employs nautical language in the correct ways.21
II. EXPLOITING LITERARY CONVENTIONS
Some scholars are convinced, however, that Paul’s sea voyage depicted by Luke must be fictitious. Certainly, literary comparisons with novels are appropriate. Similar storm scenes appear in novels,22 often conjoined with shipwrecks.23 Storms and shipwrecks indeed appeared so often in novels that satirists ridiculed24 or parodied25 the literary conventions. Pervo rightly points out that Luke contributes to a vast ancient literature on nautical adventures and that Luke intended his work to be enjoyed.26 But as noted in this commentary’s introduction, historians sought their readers’ enjoyment in addition to their instruction (unenjoyable works were hardly marketable in the patron-centered world of ancient “publishing”). Historians used the same narrative techniques as fiction,27 and as Loveday Alexander notes, “romance does not have a monopoly on voyage-narratives.”28 After all, voyages, storms, and even shipwrecks happened in the real world.
“Historians had no need to liven up their material with a shipwreck,” Pervo protests, “but composers of fiction did, often enough to inspire parodies.”29 Yet historians and biographers do include shipwrecks and storms when available and relevant,30 especially if they were themselves present (cf. 2 Cor 11:25).31 Admittedly, they rarely develop scenes of storms at length, but neither did most novels,32 despite the literary interest, and some historical writers did provide more detail than others. It is noteworthy that, for example, a second-century C.E. sophist depicts a genuine sea storm with language borrowed from the Odyssey.33 “Thus,” Aune notes, “ancients could conceptualize real experiences with traditional literary topoi.”34 Luke could evoke ancient adventure scenes, but his story takes place in the real first-century world of Paul, under real storm conditions, without sirens, clashing rocks, and the like from the mythical past.35 Writers also employed accounts of real storms at sea for moralistic purposes36—for example, to address the behavior of philosophers.37
Others note a source with which Luke’s audience would be familiar from readings of the prophets—namely, Jonah.38 For readers in the Aegean, stories of shipwrecks would be familiar even apart from older literary traditions. Nevertheless, such traditions would affect the elements that one emphasized and how one described them. Some scholars have suggested Jonah typology here; it is not very prominent, but one might be able to construct the climax of a very minor Jonah subtext in Luke-Acts. The Ninevites repented at Jonah’s preaching (Luke 11:29–30, 32) and would condemn Israel (11:32); the gospel will be received in Rome even if Paul’s Jewish audience proves ambivalent (Acts 28:23–28, esp. 28:28). Jonah’s westward travel in a ship led to the conversion of his fellow travelers, though in the prophetic book it was because of Jonah’s judgment for disobedience (a stark contrast with Paul’s obedience here). This allusion has a more explicit basis in the text of Luke-Acts (in Luke 11) than allusion to the Odyssey does, though it cannot supply all the details.39
If there is a Jonah allusion here, it could belong to a larger subtext in this chapter:
Jonah
Paul
Jonah went west (to Tarshish; Jonah 1:3)
Paul went west to Rome
Wind and storm; ship about to break up (1:4)
Similarly; cf. Acts 27:41
Sailors were afraid, cried out to gods, threw cargo into the sea to lighten the ship (1:5)
They threw out the cargo to lighten the ship (27:18, 38)
Meanwhile Jonah slept (1:5)
*
Jonah is exhorted to call on his God to bring deliverance (1:6) but is not reported to have done so
Paul apparently prayed, as noted above (probably implied in Acts 27:23–24, but Luke does not make this explicit)
Jonah was the cause of the storm (1:7–10, 12, 14–15)
Paul was the cause of the rescue (27:24)
*
Overall, the parallels are not very compelling if we are trying to demonstrate Jonah as the narrative’s single literary grid, since many of the parallels fit sea scenes in general. Certainly, key elements of Jonah’s narrative, such as ingestion by a hefty marine organism, do not recur. There may be some value, however, especially in contrasts, so long as we do not make literary imitation of Jonah Luke’s primary purpose.
Both histories40 and biographies41 included an abundance of sea storms and shipwrecks, attesting that seafarers commonly faced them.42 Some scholars suggest that one-fifth of travelers by sea could expect serious danger on their voyages.43 Paul was not the only frequent sea voyager to experience or be involved in multiple storms or shipwrecks (2 Cor 11:25). For example, Octavian suffered shipwreck with the army at a young age (Suet. Aug. 8.1); a different storm later destroyed his fleets (16.2); still later, he ran into two more storms, losing more ships (17.3). Some people drowned at sea.44 Lucian notes that the huge ship Isis had already nearly been wrecked by a storm on that voyage (Ship 7).
Sailors were also known for courage because they faced potential death for their work;45 even if sailing could yield more income than small farming, many regarded it as far more dangerous.46 Who would happily undertake a sea voyage, one Jewish writer asks, without confidence that they “can reach a harbor?” (2 Bar. 22:3). Asked what kind of boat was safest, one critic replied, “Those which are safely moored.”47 Marine archaeology attests that shipwrecks were frequent. “Over 1,000 ancient shipwreck sites are known from the Mediterranean,” and more are likely to turn up.48 That Paul himself, before his Roman custody, already wrote of being shipwrecked three times is not very surprising, given the frequency of his travel.49
Historians used the same stereotypical literary motifs as novelists when depicting sea storms and shipwrecks, precisely because Greeks often undertook sea voyages, faced storms, and suffered shipwrecks.50 At the same time, Praeder argues, “contrary to an often repeated opinion, storm scenes are not all that characteristic of ancient novels. Nor are the storm and shipwreck in Acts 27:9–28:10 that much like the storm and shipwrecks in ancient novels.”51 The only two lengthy storms and shipwrecks in novels (in Petronius and Achilles Tatius) reveal more about the authors’ rhetorical training than about a novelistic literary tradition.52
Further, the parallels with other examples of the genre are often exaggerated. Whereas 27:9–12 may follow literary models for storms, it appears that 27:13–20 does not do so.53 Despite “traces of literary tradition and rhetorical training” in 27:13–20, Praeder points out, “it is not a storm scene in the epic style. It omits a number of the characteristic elements of storm scenes in that style, e.g., the release and the riot of storm winds, thunder and lightning, swelling of waves to the sky, sinking of waves to the depths of the sea, and the surrender of the pilot to the winds and the waves.”54 Although many of Luke’s descriptions reflect familiarity with elements conventional in literary descriptions of storms, Luke does not simply adopt formulas or strive for a standard literary effect.55
Certainly novels emphasized heroes and heroines surviving various perils, including shipwreck,56 but Paul’s letters depict him surviving far more perils, including shipwrecks, than Luke does. (Luke omits the night and day in the sea of 2 Cor 11:25, preferring to narrate in more detail “we” material. On my view, this is both because the chronological placement of the storm in Acts 27 fits Luke’s narrative purposes and because he was present to experience the details firsthand, thereby etching them well in his memory.)
A key element of most ancient novels (the heroine or other romantic partners) is also missing; even later apocryphal acts that imitated our canonical Acts sometimes included a (celibate) heroine (e.g., Thecla). The nautical portion of novels nearly always included pirates, but Luke omits these; if one argues that Rome had mainly suppressed pirates by Luke’s day, the same was true for the days of the extant novelists, nearly all of whom wrote after he did. Had Luke been writing pure fiction, would he not have followed through more thoroughly on his parallels with Jesus and simply had Paul still the storm (Luke 8:24–25) instead of enduring it?57 (It is even possible to construe 8:25 as Jesus expecting his disciples to be able to still storms, though it appears more likely that he simply expected them to trust that the boat would not sink with him in it and leave his mission unfulfilled. Paul does match up to Jesus’s storm-stilling standard [Acts 27:24].)
Luke does not narrate Paul’s earlier shipwrecks (2 Cor 11:25), and he does not mind recounting voyages concisely without such adventure (e.g., Acts 16:11–12; 20:14–15; 21:1–2). Why would he invent a shipwreck here? His audience might already know that the narrator accompanied Paul to Rome, but there was no need to enliven this particular voyage when other scenes (healings in Malta or difficulties in Rome) could have commanded more attention.58
Whereas a storyteller (for example, a composer of one of the later apocryphal gospels and acts) added supernatural and hagiographic elements, Luke includes nothing distinctively supernatural except an angelic communication (narrated only by Paul, 27:23–26), and Paul offers only what could be construed as sensible advice (27:10, 31) rather than any explicit prophecy apart from that angelic communication.59 Luke is more interested in Paul’s character (as in historically genuine accounts of philosophers during sea storms) and in the obstacles that God surmounts so that Paul can safely reach Caesar’s court.60 An ancient skeptic could have cited the storm and the ship’s consequent destruction to challenge Paul’s virtue (contrasting the survival of Jonah’s ship and especially the boat of Jesus’s disciples), but Luke, who does not invent a miracle to save the ship, nevertheless argues for an opposite reading of the event he witnessed.
If it is asked why this scene is more detailed than other voyages even in Luke’s “we” material,61 one answer seems obvious enough (in addition to this voyage to Rome climaxing Paul’s travels): a suspense-filled storm and shipwreck (which also serve Luke’s moralistic and apologetic purposes) are much more interesting, and offer much more detail worth reporting, than would elaborating further on the various ports into which his ship put. This is the deadliest sea storm Paul has faced where Luke is an eyewitness; it makes a good story, and Luke knows the details. Attention to storms and shipwrecks in novels and other narratives reveals that this was a favorite interest for ancient readers, and this would invite Luke’s focus.62 What storyteller even today, who is writing a genuine account and has had an eyewitness experience of such drama, would omit it from the story?63
Luke’s details here, absent at some other points in his narrative, support the suggestion of historical memories. Dunn emphasizes the names of the centurion, the cohort, and Paul’s associates (27:1–2); the details of his itinerary, “including lesser known place names like Cnidus, Salmone and Cauda” (27:7, 16); nautical terminology and the name of the wind (27:14), easily derived from sailors aboard; and the numbers (27:37).64 These details are not only specific but, wherever we can test them (especially regarding weather conditions, locations, distances, and other information gathered from sailors on such a voyage), accurate.65 The classicist Arthur Darby Nock, responding to Dibelius’s protest that 27:11 reflects naiveté, indicates, “Personally, I regard this as an authentic transcript of the recollections of an eyewitness, with the confusion and coloring which so easily attach themselves to recollections.”66
Greek historians valued authorial participation in at least some of the events reported; by giving such detail, Luke can substantiate his claim to have participated and been close enough to Paul to write the work.67 Historians, like other narrators, also valued painting scenes carefully;68 Luke is less rhetorical and less interested in developing scenes than higher-class writers,69 but he can do so here where the details underline the dramatic character of his story.70 Moreover, it builds suspense here: will Paul reach Rome to fulfill his calling? Paul, at least, is certain.
A few scholars, however—most notably the skilled and thorough sociorhetorical critic Vernon Robbins—have proposed that Luke’s “we,” far from a mark of historical authenticity, was a generic convention common to ancient sea voyages.71 Despite Robbins’s brilliance and command of ancient sources, this claim has been widely (although not universally) criticized.72 (See at length the comment on and excursus at Acts 16:10, which treats most fully the “we” narratives in general.)73 As noted above, sea voyages appear in a variety of genres, but even if we substitute “type scene” for “genre,” Robbins’s claim remains problematic. Others have argued that many of Robbins’s sources do not support his case, and that he omits many that would challenge his case. Thus his many parallels are not representative of the larger evidence and hence are “highly selective.”74 As one scholar complains regarding his parallels from novels, “not one of the sources he cites has all of the features that Acts does, so his model of the shipwreck is clearly his own reconstruction of this type, not one found in the ancients in the kind of detail that he claims.”75
Robbins has responded to many of the criticisms raised against his argument.76 He points out, for example, that his argument was always that we-narratives begin on the sea, not that all sea voyages are we-narratives.77 One cannot then count sea-voyage narratives without the first person plural against the use of a “we” convention in some sea voyages. A remaining problem, however, is that “we” can appear in both Acts and other ancient literature both on sea and on land. Luke’s sea voyages do not all include “we,” nor is “we” limited to sea voyages78 (see fuller discussion at 16:10). Robbins questions whether travel on land genuinely disqualifies the cases in Acts as sea voyages, since these travels began at sea.79 Given the limited material available to us in Acts, however, this distinction seems too fine. Most journeys of significant length in the Mediterranean world were more easily undertaken by sea, and a genuine traveling companion mentioning his presence without highlighting his action would naturally surface especially in travel narratives.
What is most significant for understanding Acts, however (even if not the center of Robbins’s argument), is that first-person narration for sea voyages does not occur in novels any more than in historical works.80 Robbins’s most reasonable example, some argue, is from Josephus’s Life (14–16), but this is “an acknowledged historical account.”81 Ancient parallels do not support the idea of first-person narration being used to falsely imply companionship with a narrative’s protagonist;82 it was characteristic specifically neither of ancient history writing nor of sea voyages.83 Cicero includes “we” in a sea-travel narrative that is inescapably autobiographic (Fam. 16.9.1–2).
It seems far more likely that “we” means what it normally does in a historical document—namely, that the author was present.84 It is natural, when one has boarded a ship, to speak of “we” when something is experienced by all who are aboard;85 often “we” appears in sea voyages “because they recall personal experience.”86 As F. C. Burkitt expressed it about a century ago, “The voyage of Paul, with the shipwreck, reads like what no doubt it really is, an account written by an eye-witness.”87
Since nearly all scholars agree that Paul went to Rome and since it is far likelier that he sailed there than that he traveled by land, a sea voyage by Paul to Rome at this point seems historically secure. Because the features of the voyage during a storm fit nautical evidence too well to be pure imagination apart from a genuine voyage, these features of the voyage also appear historical. There seems little remaining for more skeptical scholars to challenge—except to argue that Luke has conflated Paul’s voyage with a separate shipwreck account that came into his possession, which also followed the same Rome-ward course and hence appeared useful for his story.
Knowing that Paul earlier faced other shipwrecks (2 Cor 11:25), it is not impossible that Luke could have saved narrating one for here and then created the story’s details here based on someone else’s Rome-ward voyage. The minimalist methodology this approach assumes is not, however, the best way to reconstruct historical probabilities. If one can accept only those claims in antiquity for which external evidence remains, we would need to dismiss most claims based on the remaining silence. But is this the likeliest way to treat a first- or even second-generation source that fits a historical genre and is independently confirmed by external evidence as often as Luke is? A source that can often be corroborated is itself evidence for an ancient event, although the evidence is not as strong as it would be if corroborated by other independent sources.88
Scholars often point back to the research of a Mediterranean mariner using an older sort of craft, whose voyages confirmed both Paul’s route and many details of the narration.89 As Barrett remarks, the author of Acts 27 clearly knew Mediterranean and Adriatic conditions and locations.90 Luke is no more elaborate than other historians in describing sea storms and shipwrecks, and he correctly identifies all the ports and locations.91 Indeed, he proves more accurate than Pliny the Elder and Ptolemy on the location of Cauda, the difference being that whereas they were encyclopedic in their information, Luke had been at the location.92 At the very least, Luke had to have “an actual voyage to serve as model,”93 one undertaken in such a storm as he describes.
Luke cannot have simply invented the story; it reflects a real voyage, storm, and shipwreck, whether one wishes to believe that Paul was on board or not. Some scholars indeed acknowledge it as a genuine voyage (even of Paul himself) but regard the scenes where Paul is mentioned (27:9–11, 21–26, 31, 33–36, 43) as interpolations into the genuine narrative.94 But we cannot expect passengers (as opposed to sailors and the weather) to be the major focus of action in descriptions of a storm at sea,95 and the only criterion for deleting verses here—namely, Paul’s presence—assumes what it hopes to prove (i.e., that Paul’s presence can be deleted, leaving the account of a storm).
If the narrative rests on a real sea voyage (as Haenchen thinks), is it likelier that Luke coincidentally found another authentic account of a voyage from Sidon to Italy or that he authored the narrative as a whole on the basis of Paul’s voyage, which historically must have proceeded from the east to Rome?96 If Paul sometimes survived storms at sea (earlier ones in 2 Cor 11:25), and if the present narrative accurately depicts such a storm, why should we assume that Paul’s presence here is fictitious? If the narrative rests on reminiscences of Paul’s voyage (as many who favor the interpolations contend), one could argue that Luke has inserted Paul’s speeches and leadership,97 but would it not be in keeping with the historical Paul that he did speak out and, as an educated person often engaged in persuasion and leadership, did so with at least some persuasiveness? I have suggested earlier that, if one follows usual historiographic approaches, in Luke’s “we” material even speeches would likely have a higher claim to genuine eyewitness tradition than in many earlier parts of his story.
More scholars today recognize the literary improbability of assuming that Luke simply interpolated his Pauline material into a genuine but mostly non-Pauline story.98 If one applied this minimalist approach to Thucydides, one would dismiss as slanted or legendary a voyage accepted as genuine, even in detail, by virtually all classicists (Thucyd. 6.1–61).99 One could retain the overall expedition while deleting all the scenes that include the activity of Nicias, yet there is no historical reason to delete such scenes.100 Certainly Luke’s narrative makes sense as it stands, as a coherent literary whole,101 and all of it is in Luke’s style (despite the nautical terms).
That Paul was on board is the only item of the story left for skeptics to challenge, because it is the most obvious item that cannot, strictly speaking, be either verified or falsified by external means. (We can test the locations and weather conditions; Paul, who is dead and gone, is no longer available for experiment.) Yet it seems methodologically suspect to support a skepticism so thoroughgoing that one must acknowledge the narrative to be accurate wherever we can test it, yet rule out of court its veracity on those points where its data cannot be tested.102 Luke could not know that later readers would be able to test any of his claims, and so it would seem much more objective to accept that the historical character of what we cannot test is likely comparable to what we can test. Rejecting Paul’s presence or activity appears to me the last desperate attempt to salvage some refuge for skeptical assumptions, but because this approach lacks concrete supporting evidence, it should be judged an act of skeptical fideism.
The account emphasizes Paul’s final voyage to Rome. Far from Paul going to Rome to face merited judgment, the results of his folly, or sheer tragedy, Paul goes in God’s providence, just as Jesus went to the cross. God protected Paul from storm, shipwreck, and snakebite to fulfill his purpose in Rome.
In addition to emphasizing that God sent Paul to Rome, the account serves moralistic (“Heed God’s servant”) and apologetic purposes.103 Luke’s apologetic is not for a legendary divine man; Paul does not still the storm.104 But the account portrays Paul’s character persevering through testing (see comment on Acts 27:21–26), as well as speaking wisely and rescuing his fellow passengers by God’s power. Paul wins over the centurion, Rome’s chief representative on the voyage105 (cf. Luke 23:47). Paul’s gracious concern for others also continues to establish his positive ēthos, reinforcing Luke’s apologetic for Paul, who was in Roman custody because of false accusations.
Paul’s very survival in such a deadly storm could underscore his innocence for Luke’s ancient audience. It was considered much safer to sail with pious companions than with those thought to have acted impiously (Xen. Cyr. 8.1.25). Once, when a ship on which a philosopher sailed confronted a storm, some impious men aboard began to cry out to the gods to rescue them. He ordered them to be quiet lest the gods “hear and become aware that you are here in the ship” (Diog. Laert. 1.86).106 Many ancients thought that injustice (Hom. Od. 3.133), impiety (Aeschylus Seven 602–4; Dio Chrys. Or. 32.80), or pollution (Eurip. El. 1355; Antiph. Her. 82) brought about shipwrecks; they would have expected Paul’s guilt on any of these points to render him susceptible to trouble at sea.107 Luke’s biblically informed ideal audience need have thought no further than Jonah for this principle (Jonah 1:8–10). Forensic orators could even use a person’s survival during a sea voyage as divine attestation of the defendant’s innocence.108 In the event that people doubted the vindication of the storm, they should be convinced by Paul’s immunity to the snakebite (Acts 28:3–6; see comment there).
Perhaps Luke’s most important purpose, however, fits a larger apologetic agenda. Through the details of the storm Luke lavishly portrays the obstacles God surmounts to allow Paul to speak before Caesar and bring the gospel to Rome.109 For those who questioned why Paul, if truly innocent of sedition, would have been tried in Rome, Luke offers a compelling and consistent response: it was God’s will for Paul to go to Rome, just as it was God’s will for Jesus to go to the cross. If the narrative’s movement from heritage to mission and Jerusalem to Rome leads to an implied martyrdom (admittedly a matter of some debate), believers in the cross regarded martyrdom in Christ as not the end but an opportunity for God to bring transformation. Ancient narratives could attribute sea storms to either natural or divine causes; they could likewise attribute the outcomes to either natural (or human) or divine causes.110 This ship’s danger involves natural causes (at least failure to heed Paul’s warning), but the deliverance is clearly divine.111
God could demonstrate his power by stilling the storm (as in Luke 8:24–25) but also by preserving his servant through it and using his servant to bring the other passengers safely through it as well. Ancients who spent much time on the seas recognized that they could not control their own safety there, and hence they sought the protection of greater powers. Some viewed Isis as protectress from storms and dangers (Apul. Metam. 11.25);112 for other such protection, see comment on Acts 28:11. Monotheists recognized that God rather than merchants controlled the outcome of all expeditions (cf. Jas 4:13–16).113
Although Luke does not allegorize the account to produce his moral applications, there were others who did so with such accounts. Philosophers used nautical metaphors,114 sometimes extensive, in which the soul faced storms.115 Sometimes they allegorized literary accounts accordingly; for example, Odysseus’s wanderings became the trials and storms of the soul.116 Nautical metaphors are frequent in other kinds of sources as well.117 Governors,118 other leaders of the state,119 and philosophers120 were sometimes compared to helmsmen, as were orators,121 reason,122 and God.123 Orators naturally compared oratory with sailing.124 The difficulties of the state were like being tossed on the sea;125 political assemblies provided “storms and tempests”;126 and one following the whims of the masses was like a pilot obeying the whims of passengers, leading to shipwreck (Dio Chrys. Or. 34.16, 32, 37).127 Those who started their life or career well but ended badly could be compared to shipwrecks.128 Such images appear in early Christian texts as well (Eph 4:14; Heb 6:19; 1 Tim 1:19; Jas 1:6; Barn. 3.6). But rarely did such metaphors constitute entire narratives; authors might interpret earlier narratives, but rarely did they compose narratives with such allegorical purposes in view. None of these other texts, then, authorizes us to read Luke’s dramatic narrative in that manner.
II. THEOLOGY AND APPLICABILITY
Luke’s primary interest in the sea voyage narrative is to attest Paul as God’s servant and show that God would bring him to Rome regardless of all obstacles. The gospel must reach Rome, and the apparent defeat that the gospel suffered in Paul’s later execution was clearly part of the plan of the God who brought Paul to Rome and protected and used him all the way. That is, whether by Paul’s living or by his dying, the gospel would gain a new hearing and spread all the more (cf. Phil 1:20).
Luke’s interest in Paul as a central character stems from Paul’s role as an agent of the gospel and his particular mission of bringing the gospel to the Gentiles. His interest in Paul’s vindication is therefore an interest in the vindication of the Gentile mission, especially in the gospel that saves Gentiles without requiring them to adopt Jerusalem culture or Jewish strictures. The message of this voyage narrative, then, is of a piece with the message of the rest of Acts: “Nothing can stop the gospel.” Also, it reiterates that the gospel is for all peoples; through God’s providence and his servants’ obedience and sacrifice, it will penetrate even the heart of the empire. This mission will require suffering, but the suffering itself becomes an opportunity to show what God’s servants are made of (a pattern also recognized by ancient philosophers) and hence to glorify God all the more.
What could subsequent audiences do with such an account after Paul’s innocence no longer remained an apologetic issue? I have argued that defending Paul’s legacy remained crucial for Luke.129 Nevertheless, those wishing to learn from and apply Luke’s wisdom here in a manner consistent with Luke’s theology could recommunicate the intensity of his dramatic point through rehearsing the narrative. They could point out how God protects the divinely initiated mission and how God’s servants are called to sacrifice obediently for this mission (not, as in much of modern Western Christendom, focusing on their personal fulfillment).130 They could point out that God’s servants should expect testing131 and how the kinds of suffering that God’s servants share with other people can provide opportunities for spiritual leadership. When Christians and non-Christians are suffering, they share in their common humanity, but Christians’ hope for God’s purpose in the midst of their suffering can help provide others with meaning and courage. A strong testimony of faith in God (whether, as in Paul’s case, for short-term deliverance for his calling, which God had spoken, or simply for the long-range fulfillment of God’s purposes when God has not spoken beyond those broader purposes) can lead others to faith.
Luke would assert that God is able to do miracles. He does not promise that God will do miracles, or the same miracles, on every occasion: Paul does not still the storm here as Jesus does in the Gospels. But God does astonishingly save everyone aboard the ship, fulfilling Paul’s words and confirming Paul as a spiritual leader to those aboard.132 Faith that God’s purposes will be fulfilled, and that God can fulfill them miraculously in answer to prayer and in confirmation of the explicit divine calling and purposes, fits Luke’s narrative theology here.
The beginning of Paul’s voyage portends what will come, both in terms of hospitality (Acts 27:3; cf. 28:7, 10, 14–15) and in terms of hostile weather (27:4, 7–8).
a. Julius of the Augustan Cohort (27:1)
When Paul and—presumably because of Festus’s favor shown toward Paul—his companions are to sail for Rome (evidently after some delay, given Festus’s apparently quick scheduling of Paul’s case after his arrival and the later chronological note in 27:9), they are assigned to a centurion, here introduced because of his significance as a character in the following scenes. By this point Luke’s audience will think of other positive centurions in Luke-Acts.
Governors sometimes assigned centurions, along with some soldiers (27:31–32, 42), to special duties.133 (Here they are probably a small number of soldiers; we should not infer from the presence of a centurion that he brought sixty or more soldiers with him.)134 Notable prisoners might be under the supervision of centurions, sometimes in deference to the prisoner’s rank (Jos. Ant. 18.202). Paul’s access to centurions (cf. Acts 23:17; 27:9–11) probably suggests his status; a centurion might even become friendly with a high-status captive (Jos. Ant. 18.230–31), although he would suffer if this led to dereliction of duty (cf. 18.231–33). Luke also reports other “good” centurions playing major roles in his stories (Luke 7:2; 23:47; Acts 10:1).
Some older commentators thought that the soldiers were frumentarii, escorting the Roman grain fleet; but this role started in the early second century, and we lack evidence that the soldiers here were responsible for escorting the fleet.135 Others suggest that they were speculatores, a distinct unit of imperial guards (but not part of the Syrian Augustan cohort mentioned below).136 They need not derive from a “special” unit, however; routine peacetime duties for soldiers included guard duty, being sent by the governor in a security function, and so forth.137
From the name “Julius,” some suggest that the centurion was already a Roman citizen, not simply a provincial auxiliary hoping to achieve citizenship on his retirement.138 A Roman supervisor for the Roman Paul made sense; the subordinate soldiers, by contrast, were probably not yet citizens.139 (If their willingness to kill the prisoners targeted Paul in Acts 27:42, it might allow Syrian anti-Jewish prejudice; but it probably does not [cf. 27:31–32].) Some suggest that the nomen “Julius” (without his other names) would fit only “an older man in the Julio-Claudian setting.”140 Others note that Luke and Paul often use praenomens or cognomens for non-Latins, but Luke uses the nomen for both auxiliary centurions he mentions (cf. 10:1).141 Some citizens were eventually allowed in auxiliary units,142 and soldiers could be moved to and from legions;143 some equestrians also entered the army with the rank of centurion,144 so it is not surprising if some Roman citizen legionaries chose to become centurions even among auxiliaries.145
Roman legions had distinctive standards and names.146 It was natural to name both legions and cohorts for the first princeps of Rome; in addition to his renown for other matters, Augustus had made major changes in the Roman army.147 It is possible that he conferred the name Augusta officially on some units.148 Entire legions bore the title of Augustus.149 The “Second” and “Third Augustan” legions each used an ibex, and the “Eighth Augustan” legion used a bull.150 Auxiliary units could be named for the kinds of weapons they used, earlier commanders, or a region or people; sometimes the name could be combined with that of the emperor (e.g., I Augusta Thracum).151
Scholars frequently note that “Augustan cohort” was a title for some auxiliary troops, attested in the Transjordan in the time of Agrippa II (OGIS 421).152 Perhaps more important, we know that the Cohors Augusta I resided in Syria in 6 C.E., and a prefect of the “Au[gustan]” cohort appears just east of Galilee during the time of Agrippa II—that is, in the second half of the first century (ILS 1.2683; CIL 3.6687).153 (If there was only one “Augustan cohort” in the area, Luke need not specify the number;154 his audience probably would not have known the difference, in any case.) Thus a centurion from a cohort with such a name, presumably from this region, is not at all surprising.
Some scholars also mention that Josephus speaks of σεβαστηνοί (“august ones”; cf. Ant. 19.356, 361) before the death of Agrippa I;155 but this is probably irrelevant, since the title likely simply means “those from Sebaste” (19.365–66; War 2.52). It could apply to the same cohort that Luke intends here only if Luke mistook the name, which is unlikely both because of his good Greek and because he would have spent enough time (on my premises that the narrative’s “we” includes him) on board ships with Julius to have the information correct.156
Luke rarely names soldiers’ cohorts, but the two units that he does may be named in part because providing their titles can also serve Luke’s literary purposes. If the “Italian cohort” (Acts 10:1) offers a symbolic hint toward Rome, the “Augustan cohort” does the same, adding interest in Caesar himself (cf. 27:24).
Other prisoners accompanied Paul. Military custody, developed during the empire, was less severe than imprisonment,157 but prisoners transported under military guard undoubtedly had diverse experiences.158 Although some Roman citizens were, like Paul, undoubtedly transported to Rome for trial, most criminals shipped to Rome were probably already convicted and were intended for the venationes, the bloody games to amuse the Roman people at the expense of the condemned prisoners’ lives.159 Although most of the prisoners (and most other passengers) would have been men (as were most prisoners), it is not impossible that a few were women (cf. 8:3; 9:2; 22:4; comment on Acts 8:3). Until the era of Constantine, women shared the same cells with men, predictably often leading to their sexual abuse.160 Needless to say, most of the prisoners would not be eager to see Rome.161
For “we” in this narrative, see discussion at the introduction to this section (and much more fully at Acts 16:10); contrary to the assertions of some NT scholars, “we” in historical narratives did imply the narrator’s presence. Certainly the relative distribution of details here supports the suggestion of an eyewitness; Acts is most detailed in the “we” sections. Some doubt that Luke would have remained with Paul for two years in Caesarea, given the dangers to a Gentile Christian in Judea after the accusation of 21:29.162 The danger, however, would be in Jerusalem, not in Caesarea, where Paul was held in custody. Luke could well have even been traveling in parts of Judea, collecting and confirming information for the project that eventually became his Gospel;163 Diaspora Christians would appreciate his access to Judean Christians’ accounts about Jesus. But that the “we” resumes here after leaving off in 21:18 need not imply his travels by itself;164 it could simply mean that he did not participate in the direct action of his narrative (surrounding Paul). Luke rarely uses “we” except in travel narratives, where his participation in the main actor’s action is inescapable. What is much more difficult to credit is the idea that Luke left Judea after 21:18 and then returned coincidentally in time for the voyage to Rome. Probably Paul and the companions who remained with him kept hoping for a speedy resolution to his case (cf. 24:23, 25–26). For the named companion of Paul, Aristarchus, see comment on Acts 27:2.
b. Embarking with Aristarchus (27:2)
Luke’s details here (such as the Adramyttian ship) fit an eyewitness report, and the mention of Aristarchus (and the narrator, presumably Luke) matches Paul’s own letters.
Luke reveals that Aristarchus the Thessalonian (19:29; 20:4) is among the members of the “we” group in 27:1. We know from Paul’s captivity epistles (probably sent from Rome) that Aristarchus (Col 4:10; Phlm 24)165 and Luke (Col 4:14; Phlm 24) were among Paul’s companions when he was in custody, probably in Rome, and so the present report is not surprising.
Paul even calls Aristarchus his “fellow prisoner” in Col 4:10; this description, however, may be figurative,166 since he uses the same title for Epaphras while in prison (Phlm 23) and for Andronicus and Junia in a letter written when he was free (Rom 16:7). It could, however, imply that these colleagues shared his captivity (Andronicus and Junia an earlier one, and the others later) by participating in his suffering (cf. Phil 1:7). In principle, Trophimus might have been sent for trial if available (cf. Acts 21:27–29), but there is no reason to assume the same for Aristarchus (the earlier riot in Ephesus notwithstanding, 19:29).167 It is possible, however, that Aristarchus and Luke were allowed to accompany Paul as potential witnesses for the defense, though the state would not be burdened with the cost or delay of sending for such witnesses.168
People of status sometimes brought servants with them on voyages; they prepared food in the galley and sometimes erected tents for sleeping on deck.169 Ramsay argues that Luke and Aristarchus performed duties for Paul normally performed by slaves and must have passed as Paul’s servants to be allowed to travel with the prisoner.170 But Romans at least sometimes did not permit even slaves to accompany masters, and the (possibly refused) request that we know of for servants pertained to a high-ranking senator (Pliny Ep. 3.16.8–9).171
Probably Paul’s friends were simply allowed to accompany him and continue ministering to him, as in Acts 24:23,172 especially in view of the elite characters’ apparent expectation of his legal exoneration (26:32). Since the decision was made that “we” should sail, the orders apparently came from Festus or his aides, not Julius, but they would help remind Julius of the favor his charge Paul had, leading to his special treatment (e.g., 27:3).173 Paul might also be the only Roman citizen among the prisoners, allowing him higher status and favors.174 That he was not already condemned (presumably unlike most of the other prisoners) cannot have hurt his standing.
Because ships transported cargos and only incidentally carried passengers, they did not provide services. Passengers brought their own food, which servants might prepare in the galley; passengers slept in the open on deck or in tents set up at night.175 (During the coming storm they might seek to find space below deck; see discussion below.) Undoubtedly, the centurion transports and billets both the prisoners and the soldiers guarding them by requisition.176 Exercising his delegated authority, he could secure passage (cf. 27:2, 6; 28:11) and probably acquire food.177 Centurions and other Roman military agents could requisition or “impress” supplies or service from ships or others.178 Prisoners in custody received minimal sustenance to prevent starvation in captivity,179 but their needs would be supplied by friends when prisoners had friends (see comments on Acts 24:23; 27:3).
Presumably, the centurion would expect Paul’s traveling companions to supply Paul’s needs; the centurion would not be responsible for providing their food, and he would be happy to relinquish the need to provide for Paul’s (particularly since the act of requisitioning often provoked dissatisfaction from those required to accommodate it). As mentioned, most ships’ primary function was to transport cargo, and so “passengers provided their own mattresses, blankets, clothes, materials for washing, food, and cookware.”180 Ships often had facilities for cooking and catering for those with means; but some smaller ships (less relevant to this case, 27:37) would not, and all passengers would need to bring their own food.181 Even one small ship that was examined “had cooking facilities far more sophisticated than, for example, on Columbus’s ships, which had no more than a firebox protected from the wind by a hood.”182 But ships often included dinnerware only for the crew.183
Such needs make all the more relevant the benevolence of local believers in 27:3; 28:14. The traveling party would have probably brought clothing appropriate to the season among its resources; those who could afford it would bring one kind of cape for mild weather, another kind for rainy weather, and still another kind for cold weather.184
II. EMBARKING IN AN ADRAMYTTIAN SHIP
The party found its ship in the artificial harbor of Caesarea, which was one of the best in the region (see comment on Acts 10:1). Archaeology shows that the designers built two breakwaters 1,500 feet into the sea, one being 150 and the other 200 feet in width. Where these breakwaters met northwest of the harbor, they formed an entrance 60 feet wide. Although most of Josephus’s description is accurate, some of the blocks are even larger than what he describes, weighing more than fifty tons.185 Reminders of imperial power and the pervasiveness of pagan worship were not far away. Three large colossi stood on pillars at the north entrance to Caesarea’s harbor (Jos. War 1.413), perhaps in imitation of the fallen Colossus of Rhodes; not far away, above the harbor, stood a Caesar temple with a colossus of Caesar inside.186
“Ship of Adramyttium” means “a ship with its home port Adramyttium,” not that the party boarded it there.187 Adramyttium was near Assos and Lesbos and also near Troas, to Troas’s southeast (Strabo 13.1.2, 51); some writers included it in the Troad (though others did not; 13.1.4), but it was near Troy’s famous Mount Ida (13.1.51).188 A famous temple of Apollo lay in the territory of Adramyttium, and the river from Mount Ida flowed past it (13.1.62). Athenians originally colonized it, and it hosted a noteworthy port (13.1.51). It is mentioned alongside Assos as a notable city; a famous “Asiatic” rhetor of an earlier era hailed from there (13.1.66). Most relevant here, Adramyttium had an important artificial harbor that improved safety in the Troad, like that at Assos (but not comparable to the better one at Troas).189 At some point it moved inland (to a site at modern Edremit), but it probably remained on the coast during Paul’s (and Luke’s) day (at Ören).190
The ship was headed north toward Asia Minor; the party took it only to find a larger ship headed west from a larger port (Acts 27:3). Only the largest ships ventured into the open sea, and this route north was standard for northbound ships in the East.191 Like most ships in antiquity, this one was fairly small; only a few exceeded 250 tons, since the wooden keels of heavier ships were easily shattered in turbulent seas.192 This vessel was a “coaster,” hugging the coast and putting in at ports in Asia as land breezes allowed; because they depended on uncertain breezes, progress could be tedious on such vessels.193 Although such voyages often led to Rhodes (21:1),194 Lycia (27:5) was another common destination, where the travelers would surely find Alexandrian grain ships bound for Rome.195
c. Hospitality in Sidon (27:3)
Because unloading and loading cargo consumed considerable time, most passengers would go ashore during such freight movements.196 Prisoners would normally be kept in custody, but Julius shows Paul exceptional “kindness”; he probably either trusts Paul considerably, on the basis of information from Festus, or sends a guard or two with him (even sending only a single guard would suggest a measure of trust; if Julius expected that he would need to detain more guards, he probably would not have allowed Paul to go; cf. comment on Acts 27:42). Then again, if Paul has friends who can supply the needs of some or all of the party voluntarily, reducing the need to requisition supplies, Julius may have found this beneficial (see discussion below).
Julius’s treating Paul and his companions “kindly” (the adverb φιλανθρώπως) reflects the language of Hellenistic-Roman ethics; although it is a NT hapax legomenon, a cognate noun appears in 28:2 (describing the benevolence offered by Maltese residents) and Titus 3:4 (offered by God). Although it is tenuous to conclude with certainty on the basis of two examples, it is possible that Luke focuses on a capacity for kindness among non-Christians;197 what is clear is that it is a form of benevolence. It was certainly praiseworthy and hence appropriate for encomia.198 Others used the noun and its cognates to depict the emperor’s kindness;199 it was a helpful virtue for leaders.
That the term is used of Julius reveals again a positive view of a Roman official, including centurions (cf. Luke 7:2; 23:47; Acts 10:1).200 But while the “Augustan” centurion may exercise benevolent authority, Paul remains the center of divine activity in the narrative, just as Augustus apparently set events in motion in Luke 2:1–3 but Jesus (portrayed in terms deliberately contrasting with the emperor) is the real center of God’s activity there (2:1–14).
Julius’s favor toward Paul also implies a high status for Paul, a fairly consistent emphasis of Luke.201 Rome also treats Paul with respect for his status. Perhaps the centurion also respects Paul’s age or his status in his movement.202 Certainly his observation that members of this movement appear in many cities, knowing and ready to provide for Paul, would bolster Julius’s conviction that Paul holds high status in the movement. Luke also adds pathos and underlines Paul’s ēthos by the response of others who know him well. Everywhere he goes, Christians lament his departure (Acts 20:37–38; cf. 21:5); he is an object of affection (except among those who want to kill him!).
The ship probably stopped at Sidon for trade; Sidon had a good harbor (Strabo 16.2.22).203 Sidon was about sixty-nine nautical miles from Caesarea and hence could be reached in a day, as here, under good sailing conditions.204 It had been a “free” city since 111 B.C.E.205 An earthquake had demolished two-thirds of the original Phoenician Sidon (though most of the people escaped; Strabo 1.3.16). The city had been known since Homer’s day for its beautiful art and craftsmanship.206 Religiously, it was still known in this period for the healing temple of Eshmun and the throne of Astarte.207 Nevertheless, it had a Jewish community.208
It may not be coincidence that, for Luke, Sidon was not only where Paul received hospitality but the chief city in the region where God sent Elijah to receive hospitality from a widow (Luke 4:26).209 Like the other famous Phoenician city, Tyre, Sidon was also less inhospitable to Jesus than was his homeland (6:17; 10:13–14;210 see comments on Acts 11:19; 12:20). Luke reports further about the gospel’s reception in Phoenicia more generally. Paul also had friends in nearby Tyre (perhaps a day’s walk, and a briefer coastal voyage),211 who had warned him not to go to Jerusalem (Acts 21:3); churches appear in Phoenicia as early as 11:19, and Paul ministered there in 15:3 with reports of Gentile conversions that encouraged believers there. Paul could also have met Sidonian believers in the journey of 11:29–30 and 12:25, in 18:22, in 9:30, or at some time that Luke does not record; like Tyre, Sidon was on the way between Caesarea and Antioch.
Allowing Paul to visit “friends”212 could portray them as benefactors or patrons (since they supply his needs; see comment on Acts 19:31), but more likely the emphasis is on peers, a common Greek sense of the term φίλος.213 When used formally, patronage was a long-term relationship with prescribed obligations; Paul accepted hospitality from congregations without accepting long-term patronage (Rom 15:24; 1 Cor 16:6).214 The Christian movement, more than any idealist philosophic sect, is a movement of “friends”;215 its expansion has allowed Christians to find hospitality anywhere.216 Indeed, the apostle to the Gentiles has many places in the Diaspora that welcome him (see Acts 28:15).
That Paul obtains care for his needs there fits the custom of friends providing for prisoners (24:23).217 If the high-status prisoner can be cared for without Julius having to requisition supplies, this was to the latter’s as well as the former’s advantage. The term for their “care” for him, ἐπιμελείας, could include care for the sick (cf. the cognate verb in Luke 10:34–35), but it was broader than this (1 Tim 3:5); it could suggest that they spared no effort in diligently caring for his need (cf. 1 Esd 6:10). Siding with a known prisoner could make people suspects themselves if the case went against the prisoner;218 but it was often emphasized that true “friends” were ready to suffer and die for each other (also relevant at Acts 28:13–15).219 Moreover, Paul would have explained the special circumstances of his case.
As in 28:14–15, however, an important reason for Luke’s narrating the support of Paul’s friends is to confirm that, despite the usual practice of friends withdrawing from someone charged by the state, Paul’s friends were not ashamed of his chains (cf. 2 Tim 1:16). In the language of ancient forensic rhetoric, they thus function as character witnesses in support of Paul, reinforcing Luke’s apologetic on his behalf.
d. Past Cyprus to Myra (27:4–5)
Some modern readers (particularly in landlocked areas) are not interested in nautical details, but such details would have proved more interesting to an ancient audience,220 certainly in the Aegean region, where we have postulated a major part of Luke’s audience and where ports were common. Analysis of Luke’s narrative by a meteorologist shows the correspondence of Luke’s description with known meteorological phenomena in the relevant parts of the Mediterranean.221
I. PASSING CRETE WITH CONTRARY WINDS (27:4)
Contrary winds often delayed sailing;222 one means of extrapolation suggests that roughly half of all sea voyages suffered delays.223 “Contrary” winds here means those hindering the ship’s progress to the northwest (from Syria toward Myra, Acts 27:5). The usual winds, for a period generally of at least six weeks toward the end of the sailing season,224 are from the northwest to the northeast, which were precisely contrary to the ship’s northwestern direction.225 (Such winds were more helpful for travel to the west or southwest.)226 Ancient ships’ square rigs made it much more difficult for them to sail into the winds.227 In the second century B.C.E., Athens fell behind in trade especially because the Etesian winds made northward travel more difficult.228
Ideally, the shortest distance would have been to sail from the southwestern tip of Cyprus (for which see comment on Acts 13:4) directly toward Myra,229 but this route was impossible in view of the winds. (A ship from Myra to Syria, by contrast, could simply sail across the open sea west of Cyprus, a voyage that Luke may have remembered by now with some appreciation [21:1–3].) Other reports from antiquity illustrate the difficulty of this voyage. Although Myra is roughly due north of Alexandria, contrary winds drove a ship sailing from Alexandria to Rome east to Sidon (Lucian Ship 7).230
Instead the travelers sailed on the east of Cyprus (the shape of which forced them ever further east) to shield them from this wind, leaving them a briefer voyage due north (or northeast) toward Cilicia, then a long coasting voyage along the south of Asia Minor (Cilicia and Pamphylia)231 until they reached Myra.232 (“Under the shelter of” [also Acts 27:7] probably means the leeward side, as in the NRSV.)233 Westward currents on the southern coast of Asia Minor would help the latter part of the voyage; the land breeze blowing at a right angle from the shore (offshore at night, onshore during the day) also offered an improvement to winds blowing from the west.234
Even in good weather, however, ships typically sailed north to Asia before turning west. Alexandrian grain ships normally “headed for the southern coast of Asia Minor on a port tack, there turned west and, on a starboard tack, coasted along to Rhodes,” then headed for the south of Crete.235 The route, then, would have been familiar to the sailors, in any case.
The winds caused many delays; the Western text offers either tradition or, more likely, a plausible educated guess that the voyage took fifteen days from Cyprus to Myra.236 The Etesian winds were east winds in Asia; when they were blowing as east winds (generally from about July 19 to August 19237 and for a few days during the winter), they blew during the day and stopped at night.238 But given the temporal note of 27:9, they seem to be past the time Pliny assigns to the helpful Etesian winds.
The Adramyttian ship was probably returning to its home port after Myra, necessitating a change of ships for the travelers (27:6).239 Myra in Lycia was apparently a common destination for Alexandrian grain ships.240 Myra’s port was Andriace (Ἀνδριάκη, sometimes spelled as Andriaca); the city proper lay two or three miles inland from its harbor (Strabo 14.3.7).241 That Hadrian later built a granary at Andriace attests its commercial importance.242 Myra’s later Christian bishop Nicolaus (ca. 303 C.E.) took the place of Poseidon for sailors and became their patron saint as well as that of children (Western tradition transformed him into “Saint Nicholas”).243 Like most ancient cities, Myra in this period had its own famous pagan shrines. A spring of Apollo there was known for its fish that, when invited three times by a pipe, supposedly came and offered oracular responses (Pliny E. N.H. 32.8.17).
Myra was a prominent Lycian city in the Hellenistic era; in the time of the empire, it appears in inscriptions as a μητρόπολις.244 Of the twenty-three cities in the Lycian league, Myra was among the six noted to be the largest (Strabo 14.3.3); it was just after Patara (14.3.6; see comment on Acts 21:1). The city was elevated, lying twenty stadia above sea level on a high hill (Strabo 14.3.7). Mountainous forests offered timber for building ships; goats’ hair provided fabric for robes. But while the mountains provided resources for commerce, they also isolated Lycia except along the coast and left less arable land for prosperity than some of their neighbors possessed.245 Fisheries on the islands off the coast provided income, and some ancients counted as a delicacy Lycian sponges.246 The Taurus mountain range separated Lycia from the Cibyrans to the north.247
If for no other reason, because Attalia in southwest Pamphylia (Acts 14:25) adjoined Lycia, it is reasonable to surmise that Paul knew something of Lycia.248 Paul would also have known something of Pamphylia, probably even before visiting Attalia; as this text implies, Pamphylia was also close to Cilicia.249 The “coast of Cilicia” would be particularly familiar to Paul (9:11, 30; 11:25; 21:39; cf. 15:41). The “coast of Pamphylia” was potentially dangerous;250 the waters were sometimes very rough where the Pamphylian and Lycian seas met (Lucian Ship 8).
In Greek myth, the Cyclopes came from Lycia (Strabo 8.6.11). Lycians were allies of Troy in the legendary Trojan War,251 and Homer claimed that Lycians were Trojans (Strabo 10.2.10),252 though Lycians also purportedly appeared in other locations (12.8.5). In more recent times, Lycians united under the Lycian League in the early second century B.C.E., under a Lyciarch.253 Later, Rome rewarded Rhodes’s loyalty (cf. comment on Acts 21:1) by granting it control over Lycia, a grant that provoked tensions between Rhodes and Lycia (Polyb. 22.5.1–10), but Lycia still later achieved freedom from Rhodes (30.31.4; 31.4.3). Most recently the emperor Claudius, annoyed with the Lycians’ feuding, removed this freedom and restored them to Rhodes (Suet. Claud. 25.3). Lycia had been hellenized for several centuries, and it experienced a building boom soon after under Vespasian, which included “aqueducts and bathhouses.”254
Under Greek influence, the Lycians equated their mother goddess with Leto, and in the period of the empire, Lycia worshiped Leto and her twin children, Apollo and Artemis, as the national gods. Lycians held festivals at the center of this cult, the Letoon. Perhaps in association with Apollo (see comment on Acts 16:16), Lycia was known for its oracular centers, most famously Apollo’s oracle at Patara.255 Myra’s most notable cult was (Artemis) Eleuthera.256 Some Jews lived in Lycia and nearby Caria;257 for Lycia, Samos, and Pamphylia, see 1 Macc 15:23.258
e. Transfer to an Alexandrian Ship (27:6)
Julius transfers them at Myra to an Alexandrian grain ship bound for Italy.
It is possible that Julius had originally planned to take his party north to Smyrna, Troas, and Neapolis, employing the same land route later followed by Ignatius from Smyrna.259 But instead he transships so as to continue by sea, and this approach may well have been planned or even standard (note the similar arrangement in Patara, Acts 21:1–2).260 The Adramyttian ship (27:2) would soon reach its home port, and so the voyagers would need to transfer to another vessel at some point.
Because Myra (27:5) was a regular port for many Egyptian grain ships sailing toward Rome (such as the Isis mentioned by Lucian; see also comment on Acts 27:5), it was also a good port to find an Alexandrian ship heading for Rome.261 A later (Hadrianic) granary attests Myra’s importance (like Patara’s, 21:1) for the transport of grain.262
Certainly, transport on vessels of the Alexandria-Rome grain fleet, known for its efficiency, could secure the fastest access to Rome.263 Luke displays some firsthand knowledge of the prominence of Alexandrian ships on the sea route to Rome (also 28:11; for other aspects of Alexandria, see comment on Acts 18:24).264
Even by the end of the republic, most of Rome’s male citizens received the monthly grain dole, and the lower classes grew dependent on it.265 The average number of the dole’s recipients that ancient records report for the early empire is 200,000.266 Rome may have imported as many as 200,000 to 400,000 tons of wheat every year;267 some regions produced a sufficient surplus for other regions, but Rome was taken care of first.268 (This helped ensure political stability in the emperor’s capital; limited grain in Rome led to riots.)269 Of the eight important grains exploited today, the ancient Mediterranean world used only wheat and barley.270 Romans usually bought their bread in the form of loaves that were flat and round.271
Most Romans knew Egypt especially for its wheat;272 everyone knew that Egypt paid particularly heavy tribute (Strabo 17.1.12), undoubtedly an unfortunate penalty for its fertility. From the time that Augustus annexed Egypt, this province supplied perhaps 135,000 tons; some ancients estimated Egypt as the source of one-third of the grain eaten in Rome (Jos. War 2.386).273 Although productive Sicily, Sardinia, and Africa were nearer, simplifying the transportation, most of Rome’s grain came from Egypt.274 Much of the grain came as tribute or rents paid by tenants working the land of imperial estates.275
Egypt’s grain was politically sensitive: anything willfully delaying the arrival of grain in Rome was legally punishable.276 The emperor’s representatives managed the province, and Roman nobles could enter Egypt only with the emperor’s permission.277 Rome kept three legions there (Strabo 17.1.12). Soon after the events depicted in our narrative, the strategic value of these legions became widely apparent; because Vespasian controlled Egypt, he could cut off Rome’s grain to force its surrender (Tac. Hist. 3.4.8).278 Others also knew that Alexandria was one of the most obvious places to purchase grain.279
Egypt had both good sea harbors and good transport by river (the Nile; Strabo 17.1.13). Earlier Egyptian transport on the Nile and the Red Sea was a precursor for the Roman grain fleet.280 Grain also had to be transported within Egypt,281 and Nile grain boats varied from small bound-papyrus skiffs to ships 20 meters long that carried up to 500 tons.282 Metropolites (higher-status citizens of capitals of the nomes, or administrative districts), rather than the skippers, generally owned the boats.283 Egyptian travel was sophisticated; the 328-foot (100 m.) lighthouse on the Pharos island,284 built about 300–280 B.C.E., illumined seven or eight miles around it on Egypt’s dangerous coastline and was counted among the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.285 Egyptian pilots had the best reputation, and hence ships coveted them most;286 it is likely that the Alexandrian ship here has some Egyptian crewmembers.287
Earlier scholars often argued that the Roman government ran the grain fleet,288 and this allowed Julius to secure passage on any ship and even take charge.289 Although this may have been true in a later period, Rome in this period worked with private ship owners, who speculated in Alexandrian grain.290 Greeks, Phoenicians, and Syrians owned and ran nearly all mercantile ships, including Alexandrian grain ships; Rome merely provided the organization that kept the grain fleet efficient.291 Julius secures passage and takes charge of relevant matters the way he would with any private enterprise; as Rome’s highest authorized representative present, he could commandeer whatever he needed to execute his commission. He would not control the ship’s ultimate destination, but he could requisition what he needed along the way. Although there were no passenger ships in antiquity, the large grain vessels of the Alexandrian fleet offered the best passenger service available.292
Presumably, many of the grain ships normally traveled in fleets,293 but individual ships also loaded and sailed at separate times.294 Often an owner possessed a single ship, though owning five ships instead of one would increase the profit.295 Ships normally sailed from Alexandria in April, May, or June, but they could face long administrative delays in ports such as Puteoli; ships that could not return to Alexandria before late August might face winter weather if they attempted a second trip,296 but given the financial pressure, freelance vessels must have often gambled on the time to make a second trip.297
Shipowners’ profit, rather than sailors’ interests, often dictated whether a ship would make a second run. Although the timing was risky (see comment on Acts 27:9) and ships might need to winter somewhere along the way, they could make more profit if they succeeded.298 The Isis reportedly made at least seventy-two thousand drachmas per year (ten Attic talents; Lucian Ship 13).299 The wealthy financed ships; although most ship owners were of lower status, the urban elite lent them money and hence presumably controlled a large share of profits.300 The risk of large losses limited the profitability of such ventures.301
Good weather usually allowed the voyage from Rome to Alexandria in ten to thirteen days (nine was exceptional, Pliny E. N.H. 19.3);302 in worse weather the voyage to Alexandria might take up to three weeks.303 By contrast, the voyage from Alexandria to Rome (as here) was more difficult, in rough weather requiring forty-five days.304 Working from ancient sources, Ramsay even estimated fifty days: six days from Alexandria to Cyprus, three more to Myra, ten to Rhodes, fifteen to the western end of Crete, thirteen to the Strait of Messina plus a day there, and two more to Puteoli.3054 Others estimate that exceptionally bad weather might require a voyage of two months or more.306 The Etesian winds, blowing from the northwest to the northeast, helped ships sailing south to achieve four to six knots per hour, but these very winds could more than double the maximum length of the voyage in the opposite direction; a ship could not head straight toward Rome but kept tacking.307
Given the number of crewmembers and passengers it carried (Acts 27:37), this was a sizable ship. Scholars often refer to Lucian’s Isis, which was 180 feet long, at least 45 feet wide, and 40 to 44 feet deep.308 Seafaring ships varied from 800 to 1,500 tons, with some estimating the Isis at even 1,575 tons.309 Underwater archaeology and other sources have provided considerable information about the construction and design of large ships.310 Although nothing just like the Isis has yet turned up, a first-century merchant ship wrecked near Caesarea measures 147.5 feet (45 m.) in length, which is reasonably close.311 If possible, the highest end of ship size might have even resembled the massive imperial barges, the largest known of which was some 239 feet (73 m.) long by 79 feet (24 m.) wide.312 The most common range, however, was between 50 and 120 feet (15–37 m.) long.313 On the lower end, another measure of the size of such vessels is Claudius’s minimum required tonnage for participation in the grain fleet: at least 68 tons.314
f. Near Cnidus, Salmone, and Lasea (27:7–8)
Winds made the voyage west difficult and foreshadowed (both for participants within the narrative world and for Luke’s story) the greater dangers to come.
The ship probably left Lycia in the more favorable weather that came between the several-day storms typical of this season. Such conditions account for westerly winds and slow progress and for later winds shifting to a north or northeast wind.315 It would take two to three days from Cnidus to Salmone, and by then another storm could move east through the Aegean.316
The same wind blowing from the northwest that made the voyage to Myra difficult remained a challenge en route to Cnidus.317 The travelers could have sailed to Rhodes (21:1),318 south along its lee, and then across the sea toward Crete; but perhaps they preferred to sail south from farther north (given the winds blowing south), or perhaps they had originally hoped to cross the Aegean to Corinth or a port easier to reach in the south of Greece.
They may have sailed north of Rhodes (cf. 21:1) because they were hoping for a route different from the one they finally were compelled to take.319 From Cnidus a favorable wind could allow them to sail west to Cythera, an island off Cape Malea in southern Greece. So long as winds were blowing from the northwest, however, a voyage to Malea would be difficult, and given the impending change of season, they may have preferred to sail southeast to Crete, which they could reach, instead of awaiting more favorable sailing.320 Unable to sail adequately into the strong wind, they tacked toward the south; had they sailed from somewhat farther east than Cnidus, they would have risked being driven by the west wind into Rhodes’s eastern shore.321
Cnidus had two harbors, the eastern one being particularly large, able to hold triremes and harboring twenty naval ships.322 For centuries it had been visited by ships from distant shores, including Egypt (Thucyd. 8.24.35).323 Cnidus was significant enough as a port to appear in Pliny the Elder’s list of distances.324 It was Sostratus of Cnidus who dedicated the Pharos lighthouse in Alexandria’s harbor325 besides designing some of Cnidus.326 Whereas Caesarea Maritima required advanced construction techniques, even early methods of construction could exploit “natural features such as sheltered bays and headlands, as at Cnidus.”327
Cnidus lay on a peninsula in southwestern Asia Minor, in Caria, but many of its people lived on a high island, about seven stadia around, connected to the mainland by moles (Strabo 14.2.15). It was founded about 900 B.C.E. and identified itself as Dorian, claiming a Spartan heritage.328 Cnidus’s people were located on a peninsula in the Gulf of Cos (see comment on Acts 21:1) in southwestern Asia Minor. Cnidus was a “free city” (civitas libera) under Rome.329 It boasted notable intellectuals in its heritage and had a well-known medical school and fine wines.330 Ancients noted some famous marble statues there (Pliny E. N.H. 36.4.20–22).
Aphrodite was a particular object of worship in Cnidus, which dedicated sanctuaries to her (Paus. 1.1.3). One Aphrodite temple there was particularly famous, containing a famous naked statue of Aphrodite by Praxiteles.331 The temple precincts included a sacred grove of luxurious trees and hosted many visitors; it was particularly crowded with people from the city during sacred festivals.332 Shells allegedly used to castrate some noble youths were venerated in Cnidus’s shrine of Aphrodite (Pliny E. N.H. 9.41.80). Excavations have revealed not only this famous Aphrodite sanctuary but also other temples (one of Apollo) and a Hellenistic theater adapted in the Roman period.333
Salmone was the first place the travelers would likely reach in Crete, since it was on the island’s northeast tip, toward Rhodes.334 It was Crete’s eastern cape, estimated at a thousand stadia from Rhodes and double that figure to Criumetopon on the western end of Crete (Strabo 2.4.3). Some scholars suggest that the name is Phoenician (like many south Cretan names), meaning a place of refuge from the wind;335 Paul’s ship was certainly not the first to benefit from Cretan topography.
The voyagers’ reaching Cape Salmone fits the situation in which the wind was blowing from the northwest (which was expected in late summer),336 but this may have also been the normal route (or at least a common one; see Lucian Ship 9).337 Whereas a north wind could dash a ship onto Crete’s northern coast, which had few harbors, the southern coast of Crete could provide shelter from the northern wind.338 The southern coast had more harbors, and the south winds around Crete are usually gentler than the northern ones.339 Whereas Luke and other passengers unfamiliar with the route may have thought it unusual to sail under Crete, the captain would not have planned otherwise this late in sailing season.340
Everyone knew Crete as one of the largest islands (with Sardinia, Sicily, and Cyprus; Strabo 14.2.10); voyagers might find temporary safety from a storm there.341 In contrast to the Pontic seas, the “Cretan sea” (like that of Sicily and Sardinia) was considered very deep (1.3.4).342 Educated people in the Roman Empire still recalled the naval prowess of ancient Crete, though they were also aware that it had been lost (10.4.17).343 Agriculture (for both consumption and export) probably dominated Crete’s economy in this period.344 Augustus joined together Crete and Cyrenaica as a Roman province (17.3.25), with Gortyna as the capital.345 Crete was less crucial to and less integrated into the empire than the wealthy province of Asia. One influential Cretan Roman citizen of this era, Claudius Timarchus, incurred the displeasure of the Roman senate by insisting that he controlled local popular expressions of gratitude to the Roman proconsuls (Tac. Ann. 15.20).
Cretans had preserved some ancient traditions, allegedly including mystic rites related to the Phrygian mother goddess346 in connection with Zeus’s famous rearing in Crete (Strabo 10.3.7, 13).347 They especially were reputed to practice orgiastic worship reenacting Zeus’s birth (10.3.11). Foreign trade spread the Egyptian cults of Isis and Serapis here, especially in port cities; evidence comes from many cities with or near ports, including Lasea (Acts 27:8; IC 1.15.2) and Phoenix (Acts 27:12; IC 2.20.7).348 An Alexandrian helmsman (perhaps relevant to Paul’s Alexandrian ship) set up the dedication at Phoenix; it mixes devotion to Serapis with devotion to the emperors and other gods.349 In Greek mythology, the bronze man Talos guarded Crete;350 more persistent was the idea that its early king Minos and his brother Rhadamanthus judged the dead in the afterlife.351
Some ancients claimed (on the basis of a fallacious etymology; Tac. Hist. 5.2) that the Jewish people were originally exiled from Crete. A fairly small number of funerary inscriptions testify to a Jewish presence in Crete from the first century B.C.E. to the fifth century C.E.352 One indicates that a Sophia of Gortyna was “an Elder and leader of the synagogue at Kissamos.”353 Philo insists that Crete, like Euboea and Cyprus, had a significant Jewish presence (Embassy 282).354 The few literary references suggest that Jews in Crete were fairly prosperous; Josephus’s third wife was a Cretan from a quite prominent family (Jos. Life 427). Sometimes, however, the Jewish community was exploited: in the early empire, a Sidonian impostor pretending to be a son of Herod induced them to give him money (Ant. 17.327; War 2.103);355 in 431 C.E., a false prophet claiming to be Moses allegedly led many over a cliff.356
According to tradition, Paul later returned to Crete357 with Titus, whom he left there to appoint elders (Titus 1:5), but the claim, citing Acts 27:7, that Paul installed Titus as Gortyna’s first bishop in 58 C.E.358 cannot be verified in Acts.359 The next attestation of Christianity there appears a century later, in a letter of Dionysius of Corinth (in Euseb. H.E. 4.21), in which Gortyna is preeminent but Knossos also has a bishop (Pinytus).360
IV. FAIR HAVENS AND LASEA (27:8)
That the travelers reached Fair Havens “with difficulty” is not surprising. The eastern cape of Crete would be difficult to pass, especially given the northwest wind.361
Καλοὶ Λιμένες (Fair Havens) retains the same name in modern Greek today and is a small bay.362 The site (with two adjoining sheltered areas for ships) and that of nearby Lasea are amply attested in ancient sources, but they are, beyond their local function, insignificant sites that we would not normally expect to appear in an account unless it depended on someone who had traveled there.363 Lasea appears in other ancient writers with various permutations of the name (this was common in south Cretan names), especially “Lasos” in Pliny E. N.H. 4.12.59.364
Fair Havens is a bay east of Cape Lithinon and 1.25 miles (2 km.) west of Lasea; an inland journey of 7.5 miles (12 km.) would bring one to the famous Minoan city of Phaistos (Phaestus). The bay would protect a ship from any of the four winds experienced in southern Crete “except perhaps a gentle Euros.”365 Some offshore islands help protect the bay from winds, though even the largest island is no more than a quarter of a mile (1.6 km.) in length.366 The bay forms a triangle, the top of which leads to a slender valley lodged between two hills.367 It had at least some inhabitants; many Roman sherds have been found near the chapel of Saint Paul, “early and late, with further Roman occupation NW of the modern village.”368 But Fair Havens served mostly as the harbor for Lasea, which flourished through trade369 (on Lasea, see comment below).
The term λιμήν meant “harbor” (as in Acts 27:12),370 though it could also be applied to other havens, even of figurative character (4 Macc 7:3; 13:6–7).371 But as Tannehill notes, “Good Harbors” proves an “ironic name,” since it was “not a good harbor for spending the winter (v. 12).”372 An important function of harbors was to provide shelter from storms (Sen. Y. Nat. Q. 6.1.6).
Fair Havens was the best available shelter the travelers had found since Salmone, and they could go no farther unless the wind changed. About 6 miles (10 km.) beyond Fair Havens lay Cape Matala, after which Crete’s southern coast turns sharply north, offering little protection against a northwester.373 Yet Fair Havens, although sheltered against northwest winds and somewhat protected from the sea by nearby islets, was open to nearly “half the compass,” suggesting the value of finding a better winter harbor if possible.374 There was also no significant settlement at Fair Havens, which belonged to Lasea, about 5 miles to its east.375 Such conditions (especially the long commute between the ship and the town for those who would guard the ship during the winter) made it seem highly undesirable for those accustomed to the ports of the East and Rome.
The town of Lasea, near which Luke places Fair Havens, was 5 miles (8 km.) from Lebena, a site especially devoted to the worship of Asclepius.376 An island named Nissos Traphos lay across from Lasea, which stood on a headland and had bays on either side; a mole extending nearly to the island protected vessels from wind on either side, depending on the wind’s direction.377 The town itself, though not excavated, seems to cover a significant area; surveys indicate Hellenistic tombs, pottery, inscriptions (IC 1.15), walls, and possibly an aqueduct system.378 It appears to have been continuously occupied from the early Minoan until the late Roman period, its Roman period being its most prosperous.379 An aqueduct supplied Lasea with water that it conducted from a spring located about half a mile (ca. 1 km.) distant.380 Archaeologists have excavated a later, significant Christian basilica at Lasea.381
3. Ignoring Paul’s Warning (27:9–13)
Paul advises the ship not to leave in the current weather conditions; the centurion trusts more in the counsel of those in charge of the ship than in Paul. He will soon discover, however, that God can give his servants wisdom about the sea that even the nautical experts lack (as in Luke 5:4–9).
Paul’s role as God’s prophet does not surprise us, but that anyone unaware of this role would entertain his opinion (albeit rejecting it) probably suggests some social status as well. Luke’s interest here, however, seems less in explaining Paul’s status (although he is happy to imply it) and more in revealing his general accuracy in speaking about the future.
That Paul is permitted to provide any input at all to the centurion is striking. Passengers typically lived on deck, whether in the open or in small shelters they raised for the occasion.382 Important people could have chairs on the poop and could chat with the skipper; those who could afford books often spent time reading;383 others gambled.384
The situation was, however, far different for prisoners. They could be detained in darkness below deck or tied to the ship’s crossbeams (3 Macc 4:10). Like other prisoners, Paul may well have been transported in chains, but being of higher status he was apparently permitted much more freedom and even respect.385 As noted above, this may stem from the apparent support of the governor and the king implied in their letter (Acts 25:26; 26:31–32; though this would have been sealed, Julius probably has corresponding verbal instructions). Especially sailors, but also higher-class passengers, could express their views regarding travel plans.386 If Paul was sent (and thought innocent) by the government,387 was a Roman citizen, and had attendants representing a movement that he apparently led (an appearance confirmed by the honored treatment accorded him by its members in various locations), he might hold more status (at least on land) than the ship’s officers.388
Some scholars suggest that it “is inconceivable” that Paul, a prisoner, would offer advice at a council of those deciding the course of the ship.389 If Paul was chained to the centurion,390 he may have come to such a meeting precisely as a prisoner; but this chaining arrangement is unclear (27:3), and even if he was chained to the centurion at times, it would also be possible for him to be chained elsewhere during an important meeting. If the report of 27:9–12 is condensed, Paul may not be at the same meeting where the majority of leaders decided to set out (27:11–12); perhaps he communicates his view to the others indirectly, by telling the centurion, who later reports the decision of the others back to him. That he urges “them” (27:9) and not just the centurion (27:11) sounds more active, however, as does the address, “Men,” and if this is the case, he is not relegated to the normal role of prisoners in this narrative.
Luke, however, need not feel that he strains his first-century audience’s credulity (even if some modern readers demur). It is quite possible that a number of persons were present and not simply the four who were named; such discussion was probably not on board the ship and need not have been private. The centurion’s respect for Paul’s status will allow Paul to speak, even if Julius’s respect is not sufficient for Julius to trust Paul more than the ship’s most experienced personnel.
Others think that the centurion or someone else may have included Paul in this informal council because of his extensive travel experience.391 Careful pilots sometimes solicited the counsel of others aboard a ship with knowledge of sea travel (Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 14.8); Luke does not indicate that those in charge here solicited or even welcomed it, but there seems little reason to doubt that they permitted it.392 Those who were widely traveled gained experience and wisdom (Sir 31:9–12), and even if one counts only the sea travels specifically indicated in Acts, Paul traveled about three thousand miles by sea over a span of nearly thirty years.393 Paul had no experience in this region (perhaps in contrast to some aboard the ship), but he probably had experience with winter travel (and we know, though Luke does not tell us, that he had considerable experience with shipwrecks, 2 Cor 11:25). The Paul of the letters, like Paul here, was appropriately cautious in this regard, usually wintering in secure locations (1 Cor 16:6; Titus 3:12; cf. 2 Tim 4:21; Acts 20:2–3).394
II. PAUL’S SPIRITUAL PROMINENCE
People consulted omens before undertaking voyages; Greeks also welcomed portents but in general respected also ecstatic prophecy. Religious advice could be taken seriously (see comment on Acts 27:10). Some doubt the authenticity of Acts 27:9–11 in part because the “owner” and “captain” do not reappear later, even at the shipwreck.395 This is, however, a weak argument from silence; Paul is Luke’s focus, and these characters make their appearance only in passing and where necessary. (Most of the 276 people aboard do not appear individually at all. The centurion appears more often, both because he is more closely involved in Luke’s story of Paul—the only places he appears [27:1, 3, 6, 11, 31, 43]—and because he is a representative of Rome, Luke’s long-range and by now immediate goal.) Further, from Luke’s perspective, it is Paul who, by the end of the voyage, commands greater respect from passengers, who by then are concerned with their survival rather than with the ship and its cargo.
The theological point seems clearer than the details of how Paul made his opinion known. The man of God knew better what would happen than those specialized in the trade (cf. Luke 5:4–10; comment on Acts 27:9). A later writer, Philostratus, makes an analogous point about his hero Apollonius, who is (unlike Paul) a θεῖος ἀνήρ (divine man) in the sense in which scholars usually employ the phrase: Apollonius leaves a ship, warning of the danger (Vit. Apoll. 4.13, 18); the ship afterward sinks.396 The point there is that “inattention to the θεῖος ἀνήρ is revenged.”397 Ancient intellectuals recognized that people should not be condemned for not knowing how a decision would turn out,398 but the leadership of Paul’s voyage had fair warning and were responsible for their own loss of cargo and ship (Acts 27:21).
b. Late in Sailing Season (27:9)
Luke is explicit that the sea was becoming dangerous; if it is Paul (27:10), rather than the captain and pilot (27:11), who discerns the character of the sea, the informed reader might remember the rabbi who knew more about fish than did fishermen (Luke 5:4–10).399 Luke’s description of a fall departure fits; the new governor may have assumed office in July (see comment on Acts 18:12–17), heard Paul’s case quickly, and, after some time (presumably after some other prisoners’ cases were heard, Acts 27:1), ordered that Paul and other prisoners be sent to Rome. The ship’s further delays bring it closer to the early-winter weather.
Winter travel could be difficult and dangerous.400 It is not surprising that the Greek term for being tossed in a storm (χειμάζω, 27:18) is closely related in its origin to the term for winter weather (χεῖμα). Most people considered winter’s cold unpleasant401 and preferred lands with shorter winters (and summers).402 Undesirable rainstorms were common during the winter, the rainy season.403 Rivers sometimes overflowed during winter,404 and bodies of water too shallow during summer might even become navigable in winter (Pliny Ep. 5.6.12). In some regions cold weather kept men from field work during winter;405 winter compelled many to stay indoors and spend time with their spouses.406 Cold winter rains could bury roads deep in mud,407 and the usually dry creek beds (wadis) were filled with water and difficult to cross.408 Deep winter snow in some locations also hindered travel.409 Some winters (perhaps including this one) were particularly severe, crippling communications.410
As a long-term member of the Roman military, the centurion would be well aware of winter travel’s dangers. Although there were exceptions for strategic reasons,411 even armies often chose not to move during winter, unable to accomplish much safely;412 snow normally deterred armies from attacking (Xen. Anab. 4.4.8),413 and a winter rainstorm could make it difficult for an army to see or hear (Tac. Hist. 3.69). Winter could thus, indeed, slow down a war (Polyb. 35.1.5) and was hard on armies.414 A march in cold mountains with winter-like conditions could cause soldiers to lose their hands and feet.415 In one famous Greek expedition through the snow (marching in northern country), many people and animals died in the snow (Xen. Anab. 4.5.4) while others survived the night by burning fires (4.5.5). Some fell behind on the march, their eyes blinded or their toes lost from the cold (4.5.12). A large army, too, would find provision difficult during winter in some regions.416
Thus people would typically “spend the winter” in some location instead of moving around.417 Armies generally wintered somewhere (true in biographies418 and novels419 but especially in histories, which fairly often had or included a military focus);420 though often in encampments, they sometimes were quartered in private homes.421 A general could leave garrisons in freshly constructed outposts and withdraw the rest of the army to a city (Diod. Sic. 14.17.12). Earlier Roman armies had usually spent winters at home; but about 403 B.C.E., the tribunes had them build forts in the territories of their enemies, and these functioned as winter quarters.422 Troops needed to obtain supplies before winter, especially if withdrawing into forts.423 During this time they could work on building and repairing ships or other duties.424 Armies set out again in spring,425 but if they set out too early they could imperil themselves (Livy 21.58.1–2). The Roman military season ran from March to October,426 suiting the same weather conditions that dictated sailing season.427 Sometimes they did fight during winter, but usually this was noted as exceptional.428
Travel by sea could prove even more difficult by winter, which often delayed sailing.429 Chilly northern winds stirred the seas in winter,430 and many ancients noted the dangers of the winter sea and winter sea travel.431 Most thus avoided travel by sea during the winter,432 and ships usually wintered somewhere (cf. Acts 27:12).433 (For the many exceptions, see further discussion below.) Throughout antiquity, normal sailing season ran mostly from April through October.434 Friends sometimes warned against sailing during winter; one warned the philosopher Demonax that if he voyaged during winter, the fish might eat him. (The philosopher simply replied that it would be fair, since he had eaten many fish.)435
Ships caught sailing in this season, like Paul’s ship in this account, often either were delayed or stopped to winter (e.g., Jos. War 2.203; 4.499). After facing a storm, a ship wintered in Sicily before returning to Italy (Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 7.2.1). Like armies, ships would set out again as soon as winter had passed.436 These general conditions clearly affected the region in question. Leaving Italy by the sea to its south was too dangerous in winter (and so Cicero fled by the northern one, what we call the Adriatic; Cic. Att. 9.3). A severe winter also could detain grain ships bound for Rome, leading to unrest in the capital (Tac. Hist. 4.38).
Why would a grain ship leave in this season? Not many years earlier, the emperor Claudius responded to Roman unrest over grain shortages by inviting merchants to transport grain even in winter. He promised to make good any loss due to storms (Suet. Claud. 18.2) and offered incentives (such as Roman citizenship to Latins) if they brought grain to Rome (18.3).437 Claudius’s offer of improved status to these navicularii, or private ship owners, constituted an important objective for many of the freedmen engaged in the trade.438
Many ships did make such calculated gambles, though with varying degrees of success.439 Individual examples abound of commercial vessels plying the seas even in winter,440 their owners apparently finding that overall rates of profit remained high. In earlier times, because of haste, some Spartans sailed home in mid-winter (Xen. Ages. 2.31). Needing supplies, Sulla sent an officer to Egypt and Libya to procure ships though it was the worst part of winter (Plut. Luc. 2.2–3). In urgent conditions, Caesar escaped an enemy naval blockade by moving in winter, but another of his winter naval escapades proved dangerous (Suet. Jul. 58.2). He also voyaged to Sicily in winter to prepare for battle (Plut. Caes. 52.1). Another risked his life by often traveling at sea in winter on behalf of Cicero’s safety (Cic. Fam. 13.60.2). In emergencies, others had set out for Rome and reached it during the stormy season.441 Not all expeditions, however, proved so fortunate,442 and for most in normal circumstances, the risks would outweigh potential benefits. Those who sailed in winter were well aware that it was not the preferred season (e.g., Virg. Aen. 4.309). Sailors facing such a voyage often did so with dread.443
Sea travel was considered safe (in terms of seasons) during the period from about May 27 to September 14; the periods from March 10 to May 26 and September 14 to November 11 were considered risky; and the period from November 11 to March 10 was considered very dangerous.444 The discussion nearest Paul’s voyage narrows the restrictions to November 11 to February 8, probably in view of the increased demand for commercial traffic.445
With merely “the fast” being past, the travelers are not in the most dangerous season, but they are in a potentially risky season, and it is likely to become only riskier as the voyage proceeds farther. (In literature, including historical writing, writers sometimes introduce warnings of storms or shipwrecks by noting seasons or weather.)446
Because we cannot know for sure the year of Paul’s voyage, we cannot be certain of the dates for the fast or other details. Those who favor 59 C.E. note an advantage for their position here, however, in that the Day of Atonement fell later that year than in any other year from 55 to 62 C.E. and hence would allow the final voyage to Rome in February (when it was possible though not always safe) instead of January (when it would be impossible and not attempted apart from emergencies).447 Jewett provides the following chronology:448
C.E.
C.E.
Events in Acts 27–28
Sept. 16
Oct. 5
Day of Atonement
Sept. 19
Oct. 8
Before Tabernacles (27:9–10; estimated midway between the two festivals)
Sept. 26
Oct. 15
Terminus ad quem for a departure with a gentle south wind (27:13)
Sept. 29
Oct. 18
Three-day period of 27:14–19
Oct. 13
Nov. 1
End of 14 days (27:27, 33)
Oct. 14
Nov. 2
Ashore on Malta (27:39–44)
Oct. 17
Nov. 5
End of three days in Publius’s home (28:7)
Jan. 17
Feb. 5
End of three months on Malta (28:11)
Although three months (Acts 28:11) could mean parts of three months and hence be shorter, abbreviating the months in this case would render the final voyage problematic. To most commentators, Luke’s mentioning only “the fast” suggests that the Feast of Tabernacles (starting five days later; Lev 23:27, 34) has not yet happened; this was the limit that later rabbis used for safe sailing season.449
It is possible, however, that Luke, instead of implying that it is the most recent event on the Jewish calendar, chooses the fast as a chronological marker because Paul kept it (as a prisoner on a ship, keeping Tabernacles would be more difficult). In this case the voyage may be placed slightly later (though just a few weeks later, even the ship’s council would not have consented to sail in Acts 27:11–12). In any case, it seems most likely that the travelers disembarked again in mid-October or later and were on Malta most of November through January.450 The dates could be moved forward a few more weeks if Luke uses a Syrian-Jewish calendar as Josephus did, moving Tishri 10 (the Day of Atonement) to October 28,451 though this does not seem to fit the geographic range of most of Luke’s audience.
That Luke expects his ideal audience to know “the fast” is not surprising; like his expositions of Scripture, this allusion suggests a biblically informed ideal audience familiar with the synagogue. Yet it may imply more than simple mention of a festival would; Luke calculates time by festivals (20:6, 16), as does Paul (1 Cor 16:8).452 Many Christians today are familiar with various Jewish festivals from Scripture, but unless they live in an area with many observant Jews, they may not know the Jewish calendar (e.g., when Tishri occurred) so as to use such festivals as chronological markers. By contrast, it seems likely that many early Christians, including in the Pauline circle, continued to celebrate or at least respect Jewish festivals, even if some of these had taken on new, retrospective associations for Christians (cf., e.g., 1 Cor 5:7; 11:23–25). Luke certainly had no objection to leaving this impression (cf. Acts 18:18; 21:26).453
Although Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) was a fast, most Jews also celebrated it as a festival (despite Jub. 34:18–19).454 That is, it was counted as a festival despite its solemnity (Philo Spec. Laws 2.193–94). According to later rabbis, after the fast girls would dance in the vineyards to find husbands, and the fast itself was one of Israel’s happiest days in the year.455
Not all sailing during this season was destructive (or the ship would never have set out), and so Paul’s insight here (in light of his activity elsewhere in Acts) may be viewed, on the level of Luke’s larger story, as divinely given, not merely intuition based on weather.456 Paul speaks confidently here as in the rest of Acts; this confidence is consistent with Luke’s character portrayal of him elsewhere as God’s agent. For his address, “Men,” see comment on Acts 2:14.
Paul’s warning about loss of life builds suspense for the narrative.457 That it is “corrected” in Acts 27:24 does not mean that Luke thinks that Paul lacks divine insight here;458 biblical prophecies were often conditional, and God sometimes relented of a warning in view of repentance (Jer 18:7–10; Jonah 3:10) or prayer (Exod 32:10–14; Job 42:8), though this was not guaranteed (Jer 7:16; 11:14; 14:11; Ezek 14:20). The cargo (Acts 27:18, 38) and ship (27:41–44) are ultimately lost just as Paul warns.
Because Paul later instructs his fellow voyagers about the island (27:26; cf. 27:39–40), encourages them to eat before swimming (27:34), and warns against a maneuver that would lead to most of their deaths (27:31–32), Luke implies that were Paul not on board, most of the people would have perished. He seems to imply in 27:24 that it was especially Paul’s prayers that averted this fate; the angel indicates that the rest of the people were spared for his sake. His presence also spares the other prisoners (27:42–43).
II. DEITIES, PROPHETS, AND SAILING
Although many ancients sought to predict the weather on the basis of natural signs,459 men of God and divine men also could be thought to warn of impending dangers. Thus one accurately predicted that a ship would sink (Iambl. V.P. 28.136). As noted above, a ship sank as Apollonius warned (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 4.13–18).460 Long before Paul, an inspired poet was reportedly warned in a dream not to sail; he stayed behind whereas the others who sailed were drowned in a storm (Val. Max. 1.7.ext. 3). As Lionel Casson notes, unfavorable omens or bad dreams could detain a ship’s sailing, provided “the ship’s officers took them seriously.”461 Some ancients, however, appeared more skeptical, if often selectively and conveniently so. Hannibal reportedly (the source is likely a detractor) insisted that his own favorable advice was better than the diviners’ negative warnings (Val. Max. 3.7.ext. 6).
Many even consulted oracles before voyages.462 Some did not want to sail against the wind without a good omen or divine guidance (Philost. Hrk. 1.2; 6.5). Those sailing across the Adriatic (cf. Acts 27:27) might first seek a favorable omen (Iambl. V.P. 35.257). Sages also often advised proper safety precautions; if one ignored such precautions, one ought not to blame Fortune (Babr. 49).463 Fishermen reportedly knew to avoid the sea during a terrible storm.464
Petition was also important.465 A Stoic philosopher observed that no one left “a harbour without first sacrificing to the gods and invoking their aid” (Epict. Diatr. 3.21.1).466 Those leaving a sacred island would pour a libation before leaving it, even with favorable winds (Philost. Hrk. 58.5). The Jewish perspective recognized God’s sovereignty over the waters (1 En. 101:6; cf. Ps 107:23–30; Jonah 1:4); God might use them to destroy sinners (1 En. 101:5–6; cf. 1 Kgs 22:48–49; Ps 48:7; Isa 2:16; 23:1, 14; Rev 8:9). God ultimately controlled not only rain467 but also lightning, thunder, and storm.468
Pythagoras’s presence on a boat reportedly provided good sailing conditions (Iambl. V.P. 3.16); he could stop hostile winds and storms (28.135).469 (In some Jewish accounts, God saved a Gentile ship because of a Jewish boy aboard.)470 If some hearers expected such feats from Paul, they might, in view of the storm and the loss of the ship, question Paul’s virtue (though, for more sympathetic hearers, the miracle of everyone’s survival might counter that suspicion adequately); this concern would provide Luke with incentive to report this scene. At the same time, Luke is always happy to report Paul’s wisdom,471 especially in “we” narratives, where Luke includes additional detail. (Luke himself is also presumably no more concerned by the loss of the ship than he would be by the loss of the pigs in Luke 8:33–37; the new faith of some was an incomparably greater gift.472 Additionally, the officers were responsible for the loss of their own ship [Acts 27:21].)473
In ancient literature, “forecasts of storm and shipwreck . . . are followed by storms and/or shipwrecks”;474 there was little reason for reporting them otherwise. Because Paul is a reliable character, the reader will expect his prediction to come true;475 this warning therefore builds suspense.
d. Heeding the Ship’s Officers (27:11)
The professional mariners naturally prove more persuasive to Julius than does Paul. Preferring their counsel to Paul’s is a mistake that Julius will not repeat later in the narrative (27:31–32).
So urgent was Rome’s grain supply that maliciously delaying a grain ship could result in a fine;476 likewise, warnings against shipwreck could be taken badly if they harmed commerce.477 Here Paul may not be taken seriously enough to merit any indignation. The weather has, after all, been hostile (and so, what would one expect of some overcautious landlubber?). Moreover, the prisoner might be thought to harbor personal motives for being in no hurry to reach Rome.
In ancient literature, fellow passengers or sailors usually ignore predictions of storm or shipwreck, just as they do here. This characteristic appears in various genres,478 though naturally it is most emphasized in works relishing suspense and adventure. Heeded warnings offer little adventure and hence do not make for interesting accounts. Unheeded warnings are not, however, limited to adventurous novels. In one history, the captains warned Roman leaders not to sail on the rough coast of Sicily facing toward Libya (Polyb. 1.37.4), but Romans, accustomed at the time to relying purely on valor, failed to heed the counsel (1.37.7–8). Polybius felt that their folly yielded history’s costliest naval catastrophe (1.37.3), one that he felt would be repeated until Romans learned to avoid some locations and seasons (1.37.10).
Perhaps two decades after Paul sailed to Rome, a helmsman urged Pliny the Elder, then sailing toward Mount Vesuvius, to turn back from approaching the land near the mountain (Pliny Ep. 6.16.11); he ignored the advice and later died from the fumes there (6.16.19).479 Most relevant for Luke is that his audience may remember Jesus’s disciples and, still more, outsiders misunderstanding or disbelieving his warnings about his impending passion or other matters.
Even before Claudius’s invitation for winter shipping (Suet. Claud. 18.2–3), it was known that many put out to sea impatiently despite bad weather and hence were shipwrecked (Cic. Fam. 16.9.1). “Sailors are apt to hurry things with an eye to their own gain,” Cicero warned, but one should be more cautious than that (16.9.4).480 Some regarded captains who sailed as soon as favorable winds arose, despite compelling reason to do otherwise, as slaves to their ships and the winds (Philost. Hrk. 53.2).
The ship would winter in Crete, in any case, and a better harbor would better protect the ship; but profit may have also influenced some of those deciding. The fewer the repairs required in spring, the faster the shippers might reach Rome with their cargo, discharge it, and return to Alexandria for more. Or, on the view that Fair Havens was an adequate harbor, those in charge may have been concerned with the sailors’ and soldiers’ discontent at wintering at this fishing village instead of a livelier urban area such as Phoenix.481 (The sailors may have even been giving advice contrary to Paul’s.) Moreover, in either case, the farther they were on their voyage, the sooner they might reach Rome once sailing season opened.482
The shippers might not naturally invite audience sympathy; the poor would not identify with them,483 and, profitable though shipping was, the landed elites despised it.484 Roman aristocrats viewed traders as dishonest for selling products at higher prices than those at which they had bought them (without augmenting their value).485 By the empire, however, aristocrats found that they could enrich themselves by hiring others to trade on their behalf.486
Audience sympathy, however, is not the issue here. Luke elsewhere challenges such elite-status biases—for example, by making shepherds the first human witnesses of Jesus’s birth besides Mary and Joseph (Luke 2:8–18; shepherding was a despised profession).487 Luke’s interest here is to exploit not any audience prejudices of these people’s status but the failure of the shippers’ expertise vis-à-vis Paul’s divinely led wisdom.
The term ναύκληρος (a biblical hapax legomenon) can mean “shipowner.”488 Although there were apparently a few Jewish shipowners (cf. m. B. Bat. 5:1), most were wealthy Gentiles.489 But would the shipowner be sailing, and with this single ship? Most shipowners would not trust all their goods to the fate of a single ship at sea (Hesiod W.D. 689–91).
The term ναύκληρος, however, can also refer to a captain or other officer.490 Because a helmsman (perhaps a κυβερνήτης) was normally the captain, many scholars argue that ναύκληρος refers to the shipowner here.491 Owners of fleets and those who bankrolled merchants would not travel with their ships, but inscriptions show that a smaller businessman with only one ship often traveled with it as its captain.492 Still, it might seem odd that a merchant owning only a single ship could afford such a massive one (Acts 27:37).493 Some, citing Plut. Statecraft 13, Mor. 807b; Jos. Ant. 9.209, note that when the two terms ναύκληρος and κυβερνήτης are conjoined, ναύκληρος can refer to the ship’s owner, who chooses its master.494 But Josephus is no clearer than Acts (again, the supposed “owner” is aboard during the storm), and Plutarch, too, can be read differently.495 In classical usage, ναύκληρος could refer to a shipowner “or also a captain”; in Ptolemaic Egypt it could apply to the shipowner or one leasing the ship but especially to “the cargo carrier, who bore the financial risk.”496 Although ναύκληρος was distinct from both κυβερνήτης and, sometimes, “shipowner,” the same person could fulfill two or more of these functions.497
The term’s semantic range may be broad; sometimes the κυβερνήτης could hold the higher authority, and ναύκληρος could refer to the pilot.498 Often shipowners used slaves as sailors, and so they might “own” not only the ship but the crew and pilot as well.499 Traditional titles could also conceal a variety of functions. Even on Athenian triremes, a κυβερνήτης was not only navigator; he could also do steering in storms or battles (a duty otherwise delegated to quartermasters). But he also would replace a captain under duress and, in practice, exercised effective command (the τριήραρχος being only a political appointee).500 Sometimes a κυβερνήτης might be a captain who would need to reason with his crew.501
A κυβερνήτης was thought to enjoy his toil (Dio Chrys. Or. 3.56); yet he had to be on guard continually day and night to protect the ship against hidden reefs (3.64), and so he might sleep less than the night watchman (3.65).502 He was the most important person on the ship, responsible for its safety (Philo Creation 88).
Although the sense of ναύκληρος differed somewhat in the Hellenistic period, the sense of the two titles was apparently more regular in the Roman period. In this period the ναύκληρος (equivalent to the Latin navicularius) normally hired someone to arrange cargo, crew, and so forth. Although sometimes such a person accompanied and ran the ship, usually he would delegate this task to the κυβερνήτης (equivalent to the Latin gubernator), who, as in the Hellenistic period, exercised authority “as sailing master and gave orders to the crew while underway—Give sail! Correct your course! Wear off! Come about! Make way against the head wind! Take in all sail!”503
Although most people slept on deck, larger merchant ships normally had a cabin toward the stern, large enough only for the captain and sometimes other prominent persons.504 The conversation here, however, is probably taking place on land (Acts 27:9).
Those who worked on Alexandrian grain ships were often Greeks, Syrians, or Phoenicians.505 But even many in Rome’s own navy were Egyptians, as we know from letters that they wrote home, found among the Egyptian papyri; one letter from a boy in a small village even attests that he met in the navy others from his hometown.506 On one Egyptian grain ship, the shipwright himself is Egyptian, as is a boy working on board (Lucian Ship 2);507 a pilot of an Egyptian ship navigating the coast of Greece could also be Egyptian.508
That the centurion believes the shippers rather than Paul is not surprising. He is kind to Paul (Acts 27:3) but does not yet accept him as a prophet. Later he continues to show Paul special favor under duress (27:43), and by that point he heeds him (27:31–32); Paul certainly does prove to be a prophet (27:26, 34). It was understood that people were most apt to obey those they believed most competent in the matter at hand—for example, a doctor when one was sick, or a pilot when one was aboard a ship (Xen. Mem. 3.3.9).
Some scholars complain that Luke portrays the centurion as being in charge of the ship, a circumstance not true either during the voyage or in Luke’s own day.509 This view may react against earlier claims that Roman officers would exercise authority on imperial grain ships.510 But Luke, in fact, presents the decision as made by a “majority” (Acts 27:12), presumably of people of rank. The centurion does not command the ship in 27:11, but he can decide whether his own group will wait out the winter in Lasea for another ship in the spring, whether to make a case for the ship’s staying, or whether to disregard Paul and follow the majority decision.511 Luke’s point may be simply “that all of the important people on the ship disagreed with Paul,”512 which raises suspense.
Whether ναύκληρος refers to a captain or other officer or to a shipowner, he may well have solicited the advice of other persons of influence who had chartered passage.513 Certainly this would at least include the centurion, and the centurion’s voice could be influential. In some Egyptian papyri, peasants petitioned centurions as the most accessible agents of Rome; in Apuleius, a peasant who crosses a soldier514 seeking to seize his animal loses his life. Julius’s opinion would have been among those solicited, and perhaps Paul’s would have been solicited as well (see comment above). Later in the voyage the centurion does act autonomously from the captain (27:32), but this may be because he and his soldiers are armed and can use emergency force in the service of survival or because the right of requisition has given him a measure of authority.
The captain might want advice even if no lives are at risk; in the end, he is probably responsible for any goods he is transporting, as in freight boats on the Nile in this period (P.Oxy. 3250, from 63 C.E.) and in earlier times (P.Hib. 2.198.5.111–22).515 Then again, if the captain does not own the boat, he might be more likely to gamble its contents on beating the storm, provided he expects survival: those renting boats agreed in contracts to return them undamaged except for acts of God such as storms (or attacks by pirates).516
Although everyone would be eager to sail if at all possible,517 they would not risk their lives if they genuinely believed that they would soon face a deadly storm. How did such seamen, presumably experienced, fail to foresee the likelihood of the storm? For one thing, mountains more than a thousand meters high and only a kilometer or two from Fair Havens obstructed their vision to the north and east.518 But “a low-index weather pattern” may have also led them to underestimate the danger. During such a period, storms move “west to east along a relatively fixed track,” in this case, across the northern Mediterranean Sea; thus a fairly constant “bubble” of good weather could lie directly south of the storm route.519 The winds shifted every few days, and pleasant weather was sandwiched between storms.520 The gamble these shippers made would have succeeded on most occasions, but over the course of time some such gambles were bound to prove fatal.