Paul’s Defense before Authorities (24:1–26:32)
PAUL’S DEFENSE BEFORE AUTHORITIES (24:1–26:32)
Luke’s audience may be embarrassed not only by—or perhaps not even primarily by—Jesus’s crucifixion but also by the captivity and ultimate execution of the apostle to the Gentiles. Luke’s answer to such concerns is to show that only political enemies and corruption, not respectable justice, achieved Paul’s condemnation. Luke sometimes employs the standard judicial defense technique of returning charges against accusers.
Paul’s just case is subverted by political interests and a corrupt governor. Luke reports the heart of the Jerusalem elite’s case as the charge that Paul subverts the Roman order (ironic in view of 23:2–15, esp. 23:12–15), whereas Paul reduces the opposition’s motives (as in 22:30–23:10) to theological disagreement. Far from being subversive, Paul proves morally superior to the judge who fails to release him (24:24–27).
Although the introductions, above, to Acts 22 and, below, to Acts 24:2–8 and 24:10–21 treat some relevant introductory questions, it is helpful here to raise some overarching questions of relevance to this narrative. First, the question of why Luke does not report supporters of Paul from the Jerusalem church is addressed. Then literary and historical observations are provided; because trial records would preserve a précis of each speech, chances are improved that Luke would have access to this information in a manner not available for many other kinds of speeches. Finally, brief comments are offered regarding the speeches’ rhetoric (although this question is treated more fully at the introduction to Acts 22 and in the relevant verses in the speeches).
Where are members of the Jerusalem church?1 According to ancient friendship ideals, friends (which could include recipients of benefactions) should not desert one another in hardship, when friendship was most needed.2 Second-century Christians might visit their imprisoned leader, bring food, bribe guards to let them stay with him at night, read Scripture, and so forth.3 Why do we not read of such activity here?
Although the narrative does not inform us that James or other Jerusalemite believers traveled to Caesarea to defend Paul, the idea that they “abandoned” Paul “concludes far too much from Luke’s silence”; they “had no influence with either the chief priests or the Romans.”4 Whatever they did for Paul, they would have probably done privately. Although the majority of the Jerusalem church had heard negative rumors about Paul (Acts 21:21), the apparent lack of support in this narrative does not render implausible their leaders’ earlier hospitable reception of Paul (21:17).5 Paul may have had some support in Jerusalem, but those who welcomed him in Jerusalem had no reason to make the journey to Caesarea.6 Friends in Caesarea surely did visit (21:8–9; 24:23), but Luke does not have reason to elaborate on this point; we should use his silence to condemn neither the Caesarean believers nor the Jerusalem church. For that matter, Luke is not explicit about his own presence, despite surely remaining on hand (21:18; 27:1).
Still, the chief priests likely believed that some of Paul’s supporters could have come; presumably unaware of available witnesses in Caesarea, they may have expected that Paul could call some from Jerusalem. This could explain why, in the narrative world, Paul’s opponents offer no false witnesses here, in contrast to Stephen’s opponents in 6:13. (That the Romans would cross-examine witnesses less sympathetically than hearers did in 6:13–14 might have also provided a significant deterrent for potential witnesses.)
b. Literary and Historical Considerations
Paul’s trials in Acts parallel those of Jesus in the Gospel of Luke;7 the last 24 percent of Acts deals with Paul’s detention, just as the last 23 percent of the Gospel deals with Jesus’s passion.8 More specifically, Paul’s three trials in this section of Acts—two before governors and one before a Herodian ruler—parallel Jesus’s three trials in Luke’s passion narrative, two before the governor and one before Herod Antipas (Luke 23:3–4, 8–11, 14–16).9 There is also a preliminary hearing before the Sanhedrin in both (Luke 23:66–71; Acts 23:1–10). Paul’s speeches fulfill Jesus’s promises in Luke 12:11–12 and 21:12–15, just as Stephen’s wisdom does in Acts 6:10.10
Nevertheless, Luke’s literary purpose does not obviate the value of his historical information, any more than the edifying purpose of most ancient historians requires the dismissal of their historical data.11 Dibelius is, for example, too skeptical when he compares Josephus’s similar arguments between Antipater and Nicolaus, which also end in adjournment.12 Granted, Josephus likely lacked a transcript for the speeches, but not all writers would (see discussion below); historians could invent speeches, but they could also reproduce key themes of historical speeches where they had these available.13 Further, officials had the genuine freedom to deliberate, and so reports of such deliberation tell us nothing about the nature of historical sources. Although Luke does report the speeches, like everything else in Acts, especially for his audience, the trial’s adjournment (which is plausible given the political considerations involved) is not simply a literary fiction.14
This is not to deny that writers invented defense speeches. Many writers after Socrates’s execution in 399 B.C.E., and through the fourth century C.E., practiced writing defenses of Socrates. Besides the well-known apologies of Plato and Xenophon, we have the declamations by Maximus of Tyre (Or. 3) and Libanius (Declam. 1.13–21; 2.127–47), and many were offered that have not remained extant.15 Later generations of Socrates’s apologists, however, were typically orators and moralists, and few would lend such speeches the historical credence offered to key information (albeit not entire speeches) in earlier writers such as Xenophon and even Plato (though these too adapted what they knew).
More important, Luke writes not as an orator (his summary speeches could not pass muster in this regard) but, rather, in the stream of ancient historiography. Here, too, rhetorical training was useful for writing speeches in character, but a more sober Hellenistic historical writer, as Luke consistently shows himself to be, could work from genuine traditions about what was spoken where these were available.16 How available would some memories of these speeches be?
There is no reason to assume that Luke and other supporters could not be present for the speeches in Acts 24 (the status of guests probably would have prevented their presence in 25:23), although this is an initial hearing only.17 Yet even if we could prove Luke’s detailed accuracy, it would not require his presence: speakers could write out speeches beforehand or after a speech, and those skilled with words and legal rhetoric (as Luke is) could have helped the defendant prepare his case. Luke (through the defendant) could also have had access to the court summary of the prosecution speech (see the introduction, below, to Acts 24:2–8). Any such means would have provided Luke with many of his details even without his presence being necessary. In my view that Luke was Paul’s traveling companion,18 he could also have obtained a fairly good summary from Paul, who, of course, was present and whose letters display a sharp mind and hence probably a generally keen memory. Visitors were permitted (24:23), and the we-narrator is still with Paul in Acts 27:1. (It is hardly likely that the we-narrator sojourned most of this time back in the Aegean region or Antioch and merely happened to arrive back in Caesarea for Paul’s voyage to Rome!)
At the same time, this is a standard public trial before the governor’s tribunal, following the usual format of prosecution and defense speeches. Hearings were usually open to the public;19 thus Seneca the Elder warned that declamation students were unprepared for the real world of the courts (Controv. 9.pref. 4), where interruptions were common (9.pref. 3) and speakers had to be loud so that the judges could hear them over competing noise (9.pref. 5). Courtrooms were crowded and noisy, often with spectators along the walls, benches, and galleries (Pliny Ep. 6.33.3–4). Written documents would also be kept, summarizing the speeches and the proceedings, and the defendant would be among those with access to these.20 A notarius, or scribe, would record the critical elements of the hearing.21
In addition to the probability of firsthand sources for Luke’s detailed account here (on the usual dating of Acts), we may note that what he reports fits the pattern of Roman provincial trials. Acts approximates so closely the procedure of Roman law, in fact, that many Roman historians have treated it as the clearest illustration of how governors in the provinces conducted such trials.22 A. N. Sherwin-White, a noted Roman historian who has written on the matter with particular expertise, has adequately demonstrated the legal accuracy of Luke’s accounts, sufficiently challenging the unwarranted skepticism of Haenchen and others.23 Although an author could certainly acquaint himself with Roman provincial hearings without having attended Paul’s, the accuracy remains consistent with the picture that generally emerges from careful examination of the evidence, namely, a picture of Luke as an author interested in events of real history.
The forensic rhetoric of the speeches in Acts 24–26 is appropriate; although rhetoricians in practice mixed genres, they insisted on using the rhetorical style appropriate to their subject, including forensic rhetoric for judicial subjects (see, e.g., Hermog. Issues 34.21–35.2). Although good orators did not follow the prescribed examples of rhetorical textbooks precisely, ancient forensic petitions that have survived indicate that the handbooks accurately report the basic conventions of these speeches.24 For a more detailed introduction to the defense speeches, see the introduction at Acts 2225 (a speech not given in court but nevertheless provided with apologetic intent). For further rhetorical observations, see discussion in the following sections.
2. Charges against Paul (24:1–9)
It was customary in ancient rhetoric to add to the original charges other offenses, slandering a person’s character to render the prosecution’s overall case more plausible. The heart of the charges against Paul is sedition, a capital offense, and profanation of the temple, an offense for which Jerusalemites themselves should have been permitted to execute the offender.
That Luke takes these charges seriously is clear from his elaborate narrative refutation of them: riots are associated with Paul through much of Acts but are caused not by Paul but instead by his enemies; Luke also gives an alternative reading (or, counting Lysias’s version, two alternative readings) of Paul’s seizure in the temple.
a. Bringing a Case against Paul (24:1–2a)
The five days (Acts 24:1) will have allowed both sides a short time to prepare their case. Prisoners were usually warned to have their case ready before their hearing occurred, but sometimes they had no advance warning of when this would be. It could be difficult to prepare a case (gathering evidence, witnesses, etc.) while in prison, though one could obtain legal counsel whether inside or outside prison.26 Paul’s friends, whether they traveled with him in 23:31–32 or followed afterward, could have contacted witnesses, especially those in Caesarea who could confirm how recently Paul had left for Jerusalem (24:11). Normally cases would remain on the docket for a longer period of time than this case does (cf. 24:21, 27), but the status of the litigants would have moved this case to the top of the list as soon as the accusers arrived (23:35; 24:1).27
The prosecutor here presents the case against Paul28 in the presence of the governor (24:1) before the accused is summoned to trial (24:2a). This was the correct Roman legal procedure.29 Although the term used here (ἐμφανίζω) has a more general sense of clarifying or explaining, it often means presenting a formal report in a judicial sense, as here.30 As noted above, Acts approximates so closely the procedure of Roman law31 that many Roman historians have treated it as the clearest illustration of how governors in the provinces conducted such trials.32
Paul presumably has already been anticipating the hearing at least briefly when he is summoned (24:2a); the governor’s aides would not simply send word to Paul’s keepers unexpectedly, thereby risking keeping the governor and the accusers waiting.33 The term for “summoned” here, by itself, could simply mean “invite” or “call” but, in this context, must mean “summon before a court” (cf. 4:18).34 Although the accusers summarized their charges before the magistrate privately first, the case itself would have to be in Paul’s presence (24:2a), allowing his response (25:16). The case likely began early in the morning or at least was docketed into a schedule of hearings that started early in the morning.35 (The involvement of the high priests would demand priority for the hearing.) Governors normally held court in the morning.36
The relative status of the accusers and defendants constituted a major factor in trials in this period.37 If someone of low status or respectability brought charges, a case might be considered suspect (Cic. Verr. 2.2.38.94). The accusers here, however, are of the highest possible local status, and their corporate presence is probably intended to weight the case in their favor.38 Paul’s sole clear social advantage is his Roman citizenship,39 but some of his accusers (and the orator Tertullus) may share this advantage, though the charge that Paul is a ringleader among Nazarenes (Acts 24:5) probably also inadvertently suggests a constituency and makes Felix more cautious.
Luke clarifies for his readers that if the case is adjourned without conclusion (Acts 24:22), it is not for want of good arguments on Paul’s side. Indeed, Luke depicts Paul as faring quite well, considering the forces arrayed against him. Given ancient politics, we may be certain that had the evidence against Paul proved compelling, Felix would have quickly convicted him and handed him over to the priestly leaders instead of letting his case languish so long.
Was Tertullus Jewish or Roman? Some scholars doubt that he was Jewish because the name is nowhere else attested for a Jew,40 but this is an argument from silence; though Jews used Roman names less often than Greek ones, Roman names for Jewish people do randomly appear—such as “Paul” in the NT. Some argue that Tertullus may be Jewish, since he pleads in the first person plural (24:3, 6).41 Others reasonably counter that a lawyer would identify with his clients anyway,42 and claim (unconvincingly) that 24:5 distinguishes him from Jews (in fact, a first-person pronoun would not have sufficiently clarified the sense).43
As in Paul’s own case, however, the dichotomy between Jewish and Roman is forced-choice logic (16:20–21). Where would the chief priests find a supportive lawyer in a mere five days except in Judea? And if he is Judean, he is likelier than not Jewish; he apparently comes with the elders from Jerusalem (24:1). Even had Luke not indicated that Tertullus came with them, it is implausible that they would hire their pleader in Caesarea (and a Syrian rather than a Jew) only after their arrival.44 (They may have chosen Tertullus as an orator who had pleaded before Felix before and hence was familiar to him.)45 In an earlier period, a provincial of rank would acquire a native provincial rather than a Roman citizen as an advocate (Cic. Verr. 2.2.43.106–7). Yet a well-educated, Jewish Roman citizen would best be able to counter Paul’s status, and some high-ranking Jerusalemites were citizens (even equestrians, Jos. War 2.308). Aside from a speaker’s opportunity to earn limited fees (see comment on Acts 24:10), those who shared high-status Roman values felt that an orator could accept a legal case for friendship, for generosity to the destitute, or for establishing a strategic precedent.46
If Tertullus is not a Roman citizen, he comes from a family sympathetic enough with Roman interests to provide its son a Roman name; such a name might subtly help the prosecution counter Paul’s Roman connections. But it appears likelier than not that he, like Paul, is a Jewish Roman citizen. What is deeply ironic on the literary-theological level is that leaders supporting those angry with Paul for collaborating with Gentiles (cf. Acts 21:28; 22:21–22) apparently appeal to their own connections to use the Roman system in their favor. Indeed, they were earlier prepared to collaborate with assassins, the bane of the pro-Roman aristocracy (Acts 23:14–15; cf. 21:38).
Luke underlines both the political strength and the hypocrisy of Paul’s accusers by naming the most influential among them—that is, Ananias. That he was high priest signifies his influence, but the previous occasion on which Luke named him signifies his hypocrisy. He had Paul struck, taking his guilt as a foregone conclusion (23:2); Paul publicly reproved him, inviting this powerful leader’s implacable hostility (23:4); the high priest would view such a challenge as an affront to his honor.47 If Luke’s audience was accustomed, as many powerless (and not a few powerful) people in the ancient Mediterranean were, to unjust exploitation of power, they could easily enough identify with Paul here.
Ananias’s hostility raises the stakes for Paul’s case. A particularly informed reader might know that Felix became governor precisely because his predecessor lost a case against this Ananias (Jos. War 2.243–47). Ananias was not a legal opponent to take lightly. But Ananias might also not be Felix’s favorite person. Although Ananias and Jonathan advocated Felix’s appointment, Felix allegedly had Jonathan assassinated for reproving him too much afterward.48 Felix’s relationship with Ananias was likely less than ideal at this point.
Moreover, the leading priests seem to have had a vendetta against some early Christian leaders; perhaps two years after the events depicted here, a high priest (who served only three months in office) executed James, head of the Jerusalem church.49 If elements of the priestly aristocracy viewed with such hostility James, who identified with the most pious elements of Jerusalem’s culture, it is by no means historically implausible that the perceived leader of the movement’s Diaspora mission would have generated potentially mortal hostility as well.
Luke’s ideal reader, perhaps less accustomed to harmonized passion narratives than are most modern Christians, would probably also notice that Paul faces opposition from the high priest just as did Jesus (Luke 22:54),50 the Twelve (Acts 4:6; 5:17; cf. Luke 3:2), and Stephen (Acts 7:1); Paul confronts the Jerusalem elite he once served (9:1–2).
That Ananias brings “some elders” might be significant. Although he obviously could not bring a large number, given the distance between Jerusalem and Caesarea, it is possible that even five days after Paul’s arrest, the Sanhedrin is not yet unified (contrast perhaps 25:2, two years later; but even this may simply be generalizing summary).51 It is possible that some of the elders who accompany the high priest are Pharisees (cf. 24:15), but he would hardly bring them as the majority or dominant members of the delegation.
The high priest may select the elders whom he trusts to be most committed to his cause (the Sadducean elite seem to have been the early Christian movement’s primary opponents before 70 C.E.; cf. 4:1; 5:17; 6:12; 23:6–9). If detractors remained (23:9), the prosecution could likely pass over their view in silence; few in the Sanhedrin would think Paul’s case significant enough to travel to Caesarea and publicly dispute with their high priest before the Romans, given the potential repercussions of such division.52
In classical Greek, the term ῥήτωρ meant a skilled orator, but in this period, though it continued to mean an orator (e.g., Lucian Prof. P.S. 1; so also the Latin rhetor), it often carried the narrower sense, in view here, of a legal advocate.53 Advocates for either the prosecution or the defense or both were common practice (see comment on Acts 24:10–21). “Rhetors” and professors of rhetoric normally grew up in wealthy families and increased their prestige by office holding and civic benefactions.54
Nevertheless, advocates were not experts in the law in this period so much as they were orators.55 True lawyers—that is, jurists (iuris prudentes)—were legal scholars and did not need to argue cases; this was more commonly the domain of orators.56 Orators, by contrast, were not legal experts but rhetorical experts.57 Although orators regularly demonstrated their talents in court (indeed, under the empire, this became their primary venue), the accusers’ use of an orator contrasts starkly with Paul’s defense of himself (Acts 24:10–21).
Luke may inform his audience that Tertullus is an orator to warn that his speech will be pure rhetoric, not truth. Philosophers often complained that orators were inferior in truth content to philosophers.58 Thus, for example, when his oratorical instructor advised the twenty-five-year-old Marcus Aurelius to practice debating both sides of a legal case (Fronto Ad M. Caes. 5.27 [42]), the latter replied that he was now leaning toward philosophy and therefore could not debate both sides (4.13). Some moralist-leaning orators shared philosophers’ concerns; Dio Chrysostom warned that many orators acted only for personal advantage, filling the void left by philosophers’ silence.59 Sophists and orators often simply gave audiences what they wanted.60
Not only do Paul’s opponents have high status as a group; Paul faces a professional speaker.61 (This could function as a literary equivalent of orators’ warnings about opponents’ cunning; see comment below.) This danger builds narrative suspense and invites the reader to recall God’s promise that he will provide the wisdom to speak (Luke 21:15). There is no surprise that the case is adjourned without Paul’s being released; under such circumstances, the surprise is that evidence for Paul’s innocence is so compelling that Felix, in the face of such accusers, does not simply convict him.
It is not clear that the accusers use a formal advocate in Acts 25:7. Parties to cases apparently could plead cases either with (e.g., Pliny Ep. 6.31) or without (4.22) advocates, as they wished.62 We cannot be certain because the account in Acts 25:7 is more compressed, in summary fashion, than the opening hearing here. In classical Athens, orators such as Isaeus and Demosthenes could write speeches for defendants to present,63 but a Roman court at this level would often expect the Roman method of direct advocacy (as in, e.g., Cic. Sest.).64 Sometimes in the papyri, advocates seem to know nothing about their case’s circumstances apart from what appear in the brief; they were hired simply so that the case could be presented professionally.65 Tertullus, however, will have been more fully briefed, representing such important clients.66
b. Introduction to the Prosecution Speech (24:2–8)
As any perplexed introductory student of Greek will attest, Tertullus’s speech is full of flowery rhetoric, just what one would expect from an elite rhetor. His captatio abounds with special language calculated to create an impression, but Luke’s audience will recognize that it lacks facts, whereas Paul’s speech focuses instead on facts and argument. Before examining Tertullus’s speech in detail, we should note some rhetorical features; the fact that a précis of prosecution speeches was normally a matter of legal record and hence available to the defense team; and evidence concerning the language of the proceedings.
Although Luke writes popular and not elite, rhetorical history, he displays notable rhetorical skills in this speech. Thus even a modern writer who is skeptical of much rhetorical ingenuity elsewhere in Acts acknowledges that Tertullus’s speech makes good use of rhetoric.67 A feasible rhetorical outline for the speech is as follows:
The speech lacks formal proofs relevant to the “facts” of the narratio, but this fits what we find in the summaries of ancient forensic petitions in the papyri.69 Still, the omission of proofs also serves a Lukan literary purpose: Paul points out that his opponents cannot prove their charges against him (24:13; 25:7).
Whereas scholars have more substantial reason to question the precision of Luke’s sources for many earlier speeches in Acts, there is little reason to question the public speeches in Acts 24–26, during Luke’s very likely sojourn near Paul in Judea (see discussion above and at the introduction to Acts 22).70 Even if Luke could not be present for the trial (which is unlikely)71 or his shorthand was inadequate, these speeches (unlike many earlier speeches in Acts) would have been preserved, probably in the same sort of summary fashion in which he presents them. Court transcripts, in the form of brief minutes summarizing trials, are quite common in extant papyri.72 Against Haenchen’s skepticism about Luke’s speeches here, records of official proceedings were roughly the length Luke provides, and all these records were simply summaries.73
How would such notes be taken? Shorthand is at least a possibility. Our evidence for the recording of Greek shorthand (most relevant to this trial) is less firm, but clear evidence exists for Latin by about 50 C.E.74 Although orators often elaborated at length (though cf. comment on Acts 24:4), records of official proceedings were kept brief.75 After the court scribe copied the proceedings in shorthand, he summarized them as oratio recta; these records were brief, in précis form (like Luke’s other speeches), but treated as verbatim and hence “certified copies.”
Subsequent changes to such copies were severely punished; one governor had an offender for this crime whipped (in the period 43–48 C.E.), threatening death if the offense was repeated.76 Such reports were not hidden away as private records. “Official papers, including records of proceedings . . . would have to be forwarded to the highest court of appeal” with a cover memo (25:26). Probably for 24:1–21, “as in any narrative in the first century purporting to summarize litigation before a Roman court, legal documents were used as sources.”77
As Winter notes, there also remain “extant ‘N’ documents which appear to have been actual briefs prepared by a νομικός for his rhetor. Some of them contain a summary of the facts of the case in the wide margin in which the rhetor could write notes.”78 Orators also kept notes or transcripts of their speeches (though Tertullus’s would not be available to Luke). Sometimes they revised them and published them later in improved form (e.g., Demosthenes and Cicero). Given his limited presentation time, Cicero delivered only two of his Verrine Orations but published all seven (Plut. Cic. 7.4).
Paul’s trial had to be conducted either in Latin or in Greek,79 but although some Latin was known in Palestine80 and it was used by the provincial administration,81 Paul’s trial was almost certainly in Greek. We have many Latin inscriptions from Caesarea (especially after it later became a colony), but in this period, most relate to the Roman provincial administration; the most common language in the city was Greek.82
Courts used the language shared by the participants, and when this was impossible, they sought to provide translation.83 The chief priests could afford a Latin-speaking lawyer, but most of them would not be able to understand Latin proceedings well enough to join in (Acts 24:9). Paul likely would have learned more Latin in Corinth in preparation for visiting Rome (cf. Acts 19:21; Rom 1:15; 15:23–24, 28–29),84 but he would certainly be at a disadvantage if he had to respond to accusations leveled against him in Latin and give a fluent oration in that language.85
Claudius expected Roman citizens, even if high-status Greeks, to speak Latin (Suet. Claud. 16.2), but this was not the norm86 (see comment on Acts 18:1–11). In the eastern Mediterranean world, especially outside a Roman colony87 (i.e., in contrast to Acts 18:12–17), the governor would likely expect a trial in Greek. Felix was not born an equestrian, but he was thoroughly competent in Greek, as suggested by his marriage to an Easterner (24:24). His counselors (cf. 25:12) would certainly know it as well, and Felix’s later conversations with Paul (24:24–25) were undoubtedly in Greek.
c. Complimentary exordium (24:2b–3)
Once the public session began (24:2a, in contrast to 24:1), the prosecution would almost invariably speak first (24:2b);88 any exceptions to this procedure were counted as highly irregular.89 Conveniently for literary purposes, it was also the case that in paired declamations, the second often represented the preferred side (e.g., Max. Tyre 15–16; 23–24); that is, the second presenter held the rhetorical advantage (cf. Prov 18:17). One carefully arranged the exordium to anticipate the main speech, emphasizing one’s strongest points.90
Orators could devote entire speeches to praising a governor. In an “address” (προσφωνητικός), an individual would praise the governor (Men. Rhet. 2.10, 414.31–418.4; for the title, see 414.32–415.1).91 It would especially emphasize the governor’s deeds (415.4), though the speaker would not elaborate in full detail unless he intended to provide a full encomium (416.28–417.4). Although praise of the governor dominates the beginning of this speech, it does so no more than was conventional in normal speeches to a governor.92
Tertullus’s speech opens with a standard captatio benevolentiae, an exordium meant to secure the magistrate’s favor by flattery.93 Scholars often point out that the captatio benevolentiae reflects standard style.94 His exordium closely resembles exordia in official legal petitions (e.g., P.Fouad 26).95 Whereas the rest of the speech is summarized, the exordium is about the length found in other petitions96 (though those, too, are likely summaries of longer praises delivered; a spokesman for the high priest might well have more time than the average petitioner).
Making a good impression on a judge had long been an important element of forensic rhetoric.97 One should praise judges or jurors for their attention to justice (Rhet. Alex. 36, 1442a.14–16). A classical Athenian orator points out, “You are . . . naturally more clever than other men,” and so “it is not surprising that you pass most excellent laws” (Aeschines Tim. 178).98 In the Roman republic, Cicero warns his audience that his opponents are exploiting them, “the best men” (Cic. Sest. 1.2).99 In another case, he addresses the judge as “distinguished . . . by integrity, virtue, dignity, and authority” (Rosc. com. 3.7).100 In a proem, he notes that his suffering client “has taken refuge in your integrity, uprightness, and compassion” (Quinct. 2.10).101
A petition from about three centuries after Cicero begins by praising the prefect’s concern for justice (P.Ryl. 114.3–5). Not limiting flattery to his introduction, Apuleius regularly praises his judge’s fairness,102 good sense and education,103 expeditious handling of the case,104 and so forth.105 “I rely on your impartiality and my innocence,” he begins (Apul. Apol. 3). He tries to avoid appearing to flatter the judge, he explains, “But I cannot help praising you for your cleverness in questioning” (48). He name-drops a mutual friend of himself and the judge whose letter supports Apuleius’s case (95–96). He trusts the judge’s decision, he concludes, since he is “such a good and blameless man” (103). (For a discussion of flattery, see comment on Acts 4:13, where I note its frequent contrast, in ancient sources, with frank speech.)
Increasing the judge’s favor was an essential goal of rhetoric (Quint. Inst. 4.1.20, 23); if this approach failed, one could even threaten judges that one would not hesitate to prosecute them for bribery (4.1.21). Flattery appears even in greetings that are not designed purely for persuasion (e.g., Let. Aris. 1–2).106 Indeed, even later rabbis recognized the importance of appropriate flattery to Roman dignitaries. A rhetor (לוטייר) hired by a client would begin not with his client’s case but with praising the king for his just rule; after raising his client’s issue, he would again praise the king (Sipre Deut. 343.1.2).107
II. PEACE AND FORESIGHT (24:2)
The use of “much” (πολύς) is common in opening praises, often appearing at the beginning of a speech (Thucyd. 1.80.1; 2.35.1; 3.37.1); it is applicable, for example, to kings who provided “many advantages” for their people (Dion. Hal. 5.1.4).108 “Through you” (διὰ σοῦ) resembles the language of honorary inscriptions, which often praise the benefits the state has received through a particular benefactor (e.g., CIL 5.875, from 105 C.E.).109
The issues praised (peace and stability; providence or foresight; and reforms) are characteristic in complimentary exordia or speeches. Thus one might praise a ruler for giving peace (otia, leisure) to the world (Sil. It. 14.686); the claim of the Pax Romana was central to Augustus’s honor.110 A governor who had dispersed robbers was praiseworthy, especially if there was peace throughout his province (Plut. Cic. 36.5, πάντων εἰρήνην); for example, as a good governor, Quintus had reduced thieves and robbers in rural areas and towns alike (Cic. Quint. fratr. 1.1.8.25).111 One might praise a ruler when commodities were plentiful, when farmers could work the soil and sailors traverse the sea in peace, when barbarians and other enemies aroused no fear.112 Praising a ruler for bringing “much peace” thus employed a stock phrase.113
Foresight (πρόνοια)114 was common grounds for praising administrators (cf. 2 Macc 14:9).115 It applies to benefactors116 but, more relevant, appears in the captatio of some forensic papyri.117 A related cause for praise was a ruler’s ability to anticipate all needs.118
Whether the captatio in Tertullus’s full speech was more detailed we cannot say; as already noted, Felix would be more patient with Ananias’s agent than with the average petitioner. Laudatory titles were common, such as identifying a governor as “savior” (bringer of prosperity).119 Related issues command attention; where necessary, one might appeal to the clemency characteristic of the judges (Cic. Deiot. 15.43).
More commonly, as noted above regarding judges, justice was a major theme.120 Thus it reflects well on an emperor if he sends out just governors who guard the laws instead of accumulating wealth (Men. Rhet. 2.1–2, 375.18–21); a governor could be praised for his attentiveness to individuals’ judicial cases (2.4, 389.6–7).121 If we fill in information from later sources, orators praising a governor may have often worked with the four categories of virtue commonly accepted since Aristotle (2.3, 380.31):122 one should praise the new governor’s justice (379.19–20; 380.32–381.1),123 his courage (379.25; 381.1), his sound self-control (379.32; 381.2),124 and his insight (380.1–3; 381.2).125 One also discussed a governor’s specific actions in terms of these four categories (385.8–9).126
One might recount the governor’s deeds (379.5), but if they were not available, one could praise his home city or country (379.6–8), the deeds of his family (379.10), and so forth. One could “predict” how well he would do as a new governor (379.18). Praises could include analogies to earlier positive figures (2.14, 426.23–24) or contrasts with frequent bad examples.127 Complaining about the difficulties existing before the current governor makes him look more competent (2.3, 378.18–26), although one might choose to omit this step and simply confess the governor’s benefactions (378.26–379.2, esp. 378.27). It is no surprise that Seneca the Younger must warn a governor to protect himself from flatterers (Nat. Q. 4A.pref. 3) and advises him to remind flatterers that their compliments are transferred from old magistrates to new ones whenever they arrive (4A, pref. 13).
Like the invitation to cross-examine Paul in Acts 24:8, these praises express confidence in the governor’s ability to make just decisions, and imply that the speaker presents an obviously just cause. It was common to encourage a hearer or reader that the writer trusted the reader to do what the writer asked,128 including in early Christian exhortation.129 This was particularly useful in a plea before judges or jury. One might claim that the opponent engaged in unethical means of winning the case but that one trusted in the gods and in the judges, whose justice would not be perverted.130
Such praises were also appropriate in appeals to pathos after concluding one’s proofs.131 Thus Cicero, finishing his argument, entreats the judge, on the basis of his client’s age and suffering, “simply to follow the dictates of your natural goodness of heart” (Quinct. 30.91);132 Cicero assures the judge that many of Cicero’s fears were allayed as soon as he realized the judge’s identity (30.92). Many scholars contend that Tertullus’s lavish captatio contrasts starkly with Paul’s boldness (Acts 24:10), raising suspense: will Felix succumb to empty rhetoric without proof?133
III. RELEVANT BUT INACCURATE FLATTERY
How accurate were Tertullus’s praises? Most scholars recognize that Felix had crucified robbers and sought to suppress disorder;134 but many doubt that Felix had earned sincere praise on these counts.135 Because the content of a captatio was determined partly by rhetorical convention, many doubt that the present one needs to refer to Felix’s specific activities here.136 If any of Luke’s audience had heard of Felix’s administration (perhaps most easily from Judean travelers or fugitives), they may well have heard that it was under Felix that violent unrest spiraled out of control, partly through his brutal but inefficient attempts to crush it.137
Although these concerns about Felix’s corrupt administration are accurate, other scholars also point accurately to a different perspective that an equally corrupt high priest, Ananias, may have felt appropriate. Tertullus does not offer idle praise; his clients supported the appointment of Felix to begin with, despite his freed status. Likewise, his suppression of many brigands (alluded to in 21:38) did testify that whatever his ultimate failings, he was concerned to maintain order, the point at issue here (24:5–6). The Sanhedrin could have argued that they appreciated these efforts and wanted him to establish order in this case as well (24:5–6).138
Tertullus’s praises are not purely incidental to the issues at hand; the praises in a captatio should match the situation addressed and indicate the judge’s competence for the matter under discussion in the case.139 Rhetoricians advised a speaker to secure the audience members’ goodwill by praising them, “and whenever possible this should be done in such a manner as to advance his case” (Quint. Inst. 3.7.23–24).140 One would win the judge’s favor not merely by tactful praise but by connecting the praise precisely to the case at hand (4.1.16). Thus, for example, a speaker in a novel praises his judge as “just and benevolent” (δίκαιος καὶ φιλάνθρωπος) and pleads for attention to his claims (Char. Chaer. 5.7.1).
A captatio should prepare for the charges, and Tertullus’s captatio does so.141 If Felix has brought peace, he ought to punish Paul, who disturbs public order (Acts 24:5–6).142 “Reforms” might refer to revising the laws or using them flexibly; Tertullus could raise this matter to suggest that a governor wise in his use of law ought to quell Paul’s rebellion.143 Orators sometimes complained that their opponents dishonored the judges144 or thought that they could take unfair advantage of the judges’ indulgence or, worse yet, of their low morality.145 Tertullus does not claim that Paul directly dishonored Felix, but he does imply that Paul’s agenda was to undercut the very peace and reforms for which Felix had labored (24:2, 5).
Although the praises thus seem appropriate within the narrative world, they would probably read differently to any members of Luke’s audience who were informed about earlier Judean politics or who had already heard the rest of Acts. Luke, in any case, would know of Felix’s corruption first- or secondhand and reveals some of it to his audience (24:26–27). Luke (who sojourned for more than a year in Judea) would know, and some of his first audience might know, that Felix’s misadministration helped lead to the Judean revolt, which, in contrast to Paul’s preaching of concern for Gentiles (22:21; cf. Luke 6:35), would lead to Jerusalem’s destruction (Luke 21:20–24).
For those who knew better, Tertullus’s words would not only ring hollow; they would sound a note of irony.146 On the level of Luke’s (but not Tertullus’s) message, the irony might resemble Cicero’s sarcastic condemnation of the corrupt governor Verres: “The prudence, the care, the watchfulness, with which he looked after and protected his province, have been put before you” (Verr. 2.5.10.25 [LCL]).
A clearer irony in the narrative itself, presupposing no extrinsic information, resides in what the speaker praises. Tertullus and his clients praise Felix for establishing “peace,” so that they can convict Paul as a stirrer of unrest (Acts 24:5). Yet ironically, it is Paul’s accusers who have breached the peace (21:26–31; 24:12, 18), as Felix might well surmise from Lysias’s urgent report (23:27–30, 33); they rejected what brought peace (Luke 19:42). By contrast, Paul stands in continuity with those who announced good news of peace for the world (Acts 10:36; cf. 7:26; Luke 1:79; 2:14; 10:5–6).147
IV. MOST EXCELLENT, UNIVERSALLY PRAISED (24:3)
“Most excellent” (κράτιστε)148 is not flattery but the appropriate title for the governor (Acts 23:26; 26:25). It was an appropriate address for an equestrian149 (which Felix was not)150 or for any governor (who by virtue of office exercised a normally equestrian prerogative).151 “Everywhere and in every way” (πάντῃ τε καὶ πανταχοῦ) provides good rhetorical alliteration, supplemented further by the use of “all” (πάσης; NRSV: “utmost”) later in the sentence.152 Such alliteration was fitting for the opening of a speech or work,153 and the very phrase is attested in other legal petitions.154 Even without alliteration, writers might couple πανταχοῦ with other expressions of plenitude to reinforce the sense of sufficiency.155 “Everywhere” hyperbole appears in rhetorically trained Latin as well: “Everywhere in the whole world at every hour.”156
In fact, however, Judeans did not acknowledge Felix’s supposed peace and reforms everywhere, and Felix knew that they did not. But this “everywhere” forms a nice contrast with the allegation in 24:5, that Paul foments trouble throughout the world. “Gratitude” (εὐχαριστίας) is the appropriate response to a benefactor,157 applied elsewhere in Acts to Paul’s response to God (27:35; 28:15).
d. Plea for a Patient Hearing (24:4)
Some of the language of 24:4 (ἐπὶ πλεῖον and συντόμως) has been compared to an “administrative style.”158 One particularly noteworthy feature, however, is Tertullus’s promise to be brief and the consequent abrupt end of his praise. Presumably the praise went on at somewhat greater length than in Luke’s summary, and the remainder of the speech is also longer than the précis in our text. But requests for hearers’ patience were common (cf. comment on Acts 26:3).
After extensive praise, a writer or speaker might halt, pleading the danger of what earlier Greeks called κόρος, praise so excessive that it annoys the audience and hence distracts from true achievements.159 The promise of brevity appeared commonly in prefaces, and those writing digests made natural use of it (e.g., Val. Max. 1.pref.).160 Concise speech was pleasant in conversation (Philost. Hrk. 29.6) and among moralists (e.g., Val. Max. 7.2.ext. 4, on a saying of Plato);161 it was also valued in letters.162
Orators likewise valued brevity;163 even those who disdained the principle themselves recognized that it was the usual opinion.164 Classical Athenian orators might promise to communicate “in the fewest possible words” (Isaeus Philoct. 19) or might announce that they would not need much time to prove a particular case (Lysias Or. 23.1, §166). Cicero also praised brevity (Or. Brut. 40.139), though it is not surprising, given our knowledge of his own practice, that he counted this virtue “difficult” (Brut. 43.158).
Of course, one should not be so concise as to obscure one’s point (Dion. Hal. 2 Amm. 2). One should be copious where necessary, Tacitus opines, but brief whenever possible (Dial. 23). (His friend Pliny apparently agreed,165 but he lamented that the usual desire for brevity forced the omission of too much that was important.)166 Some orators who were philosophically minded rejected undue time restrictions (Dio Chrys. Or. 12.38). Further, one who wished to attack another’s case could assault its brevity, pointing out that had the opponent possessed genuinely strong arguments, he would have run out of time rather than out of words (Cic. Rosc. Amer. 32.89).167 Lest an advocate protest this against Cicero, the latter insisted that he would use every hour and minute legally permitted him (Verr. 2.1.9.24–25).
Some orators were most convincing when most concise (Tac. Dial. 31); some forms of speeches were meant to be brief (Men. Rhet. 2.7, 405.15–16, 29). Failure to state one’s point concisely could call for criticism (Dion. Hal. Demosth. 18); redundancy was inappropriate (Demosth. 24). When a speaker stated his point too lavishly rather than concisely, it was harder to hold the hearers’ attention (Demosth. 20). A speech that was too long could stir prejudice, although one could counter this by protesting that there were many facts to cover (Rhet. Alex. 29, 1437b.29–30).168
Writers often sought to honor the virtue of conciseness. Protestations of the need for brevity could accompany transition from an old to a new point—for example, when leaving the prologue (Artem. Oneir. 1.pref.).169 One could explain that one had many more available examples but must use restraint (Val. Max. 3.8.ext. 1) or focus only on the best examples (2.7.5; 3.7.ext. 5).170 This limitation might be employed for the sake of brevity (Jos. Ag. Ap. 1.251) or to prevent one’s writing from being “tedious.”171 One might claim to limit the praise, implying that far more could be said,172 or even complain about the impossibility of exhausting the subject.173
A rhetorical critic might point out that he avoids quoting in full in order to save space (Dion. Hal. Isaeus 14)174 or the reader’s time (Dion. Hal. Demosth. 40; cf. Heb 11:32).175 He could furnish countless examples, but to prevent inordinate length, he stops with those adequate to demonstrate his point (Dion. Hal. Thuc. 55). To continue would risk writing a textbook rather than an essay (Dion. Hal. Demosth. 46). One might promise to examine an issue more fully in a separate work “if time permits” (Demosth. 32).176 Poets, too, might complain that time constraints forced them to omit much.177 One could also claim, toward the end of one’s work, to have written “briefly.”178 A sage might claim to be concise and to the point, avoiding frivolous rhetorical devices (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 1.17). Some claims about brevity, however, reflected mock humility.179
II. SPEECHES’ CLAIMS TO CONCISENESS
More important, orators’ speeches also illustrate this practice abundantly. An orator might protest that he could say more but must move ahead (Demosth. Cor. 266). He could claim, as Cicero often does when denouncing Verres, that he must pass over an opponent’s numerous villainies for lack of time,180 thereby implying many more than he could relate. Likewise, he could note that all eternity would be insufficient to finish praising his subjects, thereby excusing the need to cut the praise off somewhere.181
Many writers and orators undoubtedly had more information; others probably simply used brevity as a convenient excuse to imply the existence of more information than they had. This sometimes resembles paralipsis, the technique of mentioning something in the process of disclaiming opportunity to mention it (e.g., Phlm 19).182 In an extreme case, one could apologize for speaking at inordinate length—after one had finished what one wanted to say (Ael. Arist. Def. Or. 73, §23D).183 Apparently some ancients would also pretend that they were more concise than they actually had been; hence an advocate might promise to be brief, needing few words, yet speak as long as the accuser (who also claimed not to like long speeches; Lucian Indictment 20–21).
To make speeches shorter, orators could employ shorter words and recapitulate only at the conclusion (as an earlier writer suggested, Rhet. Alex. 22, 1434b.11–18);184 Tertullus has been choosing words for their effect, not their conciseness. One could also omit whatever was not directly relevant to one’s point, retaining only what was essential for clarity (30, 1438a.38–41).
Some orators liked to speak at length,185 but in the law courts by this period, there were limits.186 Although, in earlier times, people could listen to someone speak all day (cf. Tac. Dial. 19), probably already by Paul’s day forensic orators were limited to about one or two hours for their speeches (Dial. 38), or perhaps a total of nine hours for the advocates’ defense speeches in an important trial (Pliny Ep. 4.9.9).187 Cicero, who liked the freedom to speak extensively,188 complained that the new lex Pompeia in 52 B.C.E. allowed Roman speakers for the defense only three hours per speaker (Brutus 93.324); elsewhere he notes that previously the trial judges fixed the time allotted each party (Quinct. 9.33). In a proem, as here, one must be careful not to “weary” the judge (Quint. Decl. 338.3).
III. REQUESTS FOR MORE TIME OR PATIENCE
Speakers could appeal for additional time (approval of which would automatically grant it to the opponents as well; Pliny Ep. 6.2.3), and judges could grant this request at their discretion (6.2.7–8). One useful way of reducing long orations was to require each side to address, one at a time, each of the main points in question.189
Classical Athens used a water clock to regulate speeches’ length, though it was turned off during readings of depositions and laws;190 the practice continued in this period.191 Though administrators listened to minor cases quickly (or subordinates handled them; see comment on Acts 18:14), a case against a Roman citizen brought by the high priest Ananias, who had secured Felix’s position, would require more extensive consideration.
Like Tertullus, many speakers begged their hearers to continue to listen to them, whether in the classical period,192 the republic,193 or the empire.194 In a speech written by Demosthenes, a speaker begs his audience to hear him silently as they have heard out his opponent.195 This was the standard convention advised in rhetorical handbooks, as a Hellenistic rhetorician points out (Dion. Hal. Lysias 24). (The invitation to hear was common outside forensic rhetoric as well; see comment on Acts 2:14–15.) A rhetorically trained writer might also promise readers not to delay them further, often at the end of a preface (Sen. E. Controv. 1.pref. 24; Let. Aris. 8). The basis for Tertullus’s appeal to hear the case is yet more flattery—that is, based on Felix’s ἐπιείκεια (clemency, indulgence, or tolerance; see BDAG).196
Tertullus now moves from deceptively praising a corrupt governor to deceptively denouncing Christ’s apostle.197 Tertullus’s charges might strike the members of Luke’s ideal audience as deeply ironic. If they knew of Claudius’s decree or similar language in its aftermath, they might find ironic the charges against the “pestilence” of Jewish unrest applied to Paul, who was, in fact, one of its targets (Acts 23:14–15). His accusers’ claim that Paul spread dissension (in contrast to Felix spreading peace, 24:2) throughout the world (in contrast to Felix’s praise everywhere, 24:3) would also prove ironic. Paul had not spread his message throughout the Roman “world” or even to its capital; but their instigation will help propel Paul to Rome, to the court of Caesar himself (27:24). And by following the conventional defense procedure of reversing the prosecution charges, Luke’s larger narrative effectively shows that the source of the riots was Paul’s enemies (albeit not always Jewish and not usually the Sanhedrin), not Paul.198
I. ĒTHOS AND BROAD-BASED GUILT (24:5)
“Finding” guilt in someone is a common expression in Luke-Acts (Luke 23:2, 4, 14, 22; Acts 13:28; 23:9, 29; 24:20) and elsewhere (e.g., John 18:38; 19:4; see further BDAG). For Tertullus, Paul’s alleged defilement of the temple (Acts 24:6) offered simply the most recent and representative example of a larger category of seditious acts (24:5). Forensic oratory was notoriously feisty and “warlike” (Pliny Ep. 7.9.7).
It was common to paint one’s opponent’s wickedness with a broad brush, emphasizing that one could offer, at most, samples of his crimes (cf. the protest of brevity in Acts 24:4).199 Thus a classical Athenian orator complained that his problem in prosecuting his opponent, Eratosthenes, was not in knowing how to begin the accusation but in knowing where to end it (Lysias Or. 12.1, §120). So many were one man’s crimes “that not even were he put to death a number of times” could he provide satisfaction for them (28.1, §179).200
Another orator warned that simply recounting all his opponent’s crimes would take too long, squandering his hearers’ time, and so he had to content himself with a few brief examples (Aeschines Tim. 109). In the republic, Cicero notes that the example he recounts is part of a much larger pattern of abuses (Verr. 2.2.47.118) but that if he does not stop listing the accused’s crimes, his speech will never finish (2.2.48.118). Hearers expected such exaggerations in forensic rhetoric; one speaker complains that his accuser has gone beyond all others in shamelessness (Lysias Or. 24.13, §524). Rhetorical paralipsis could also become more specific, for example, beginning a speech by noting that one could additionally have charged the defendant with murder but settled for merely the charge at hand (Hermog. Inv. 1.3.104).
Judges and juries decided cases partly on the basis of ēthos—that is, character (Rhet. Her. 4.50.63; see further discussion at Acts 24:11, 14–17, 16).201 In rhetorical theory, the speaker’s character was important for persuasion.202 Orators and judges could infer probable ēthos from a person’s status (see comment on Acts 24:1) or past behavior (see comment on Acts 23:1). Thus one might examine the character of respective claimants in the final part of a speech (Isaeus Nicost. 27)203 or open a speech with comments on a person’s character (Sallust Catil. 5.1). It was helpful to begin establishing the character of the claimants already in the proem (Quint. Decl. 338.4).
Denouncing opponents’ character was standard forensic rhetoric.204 Vilifying opponents’ behavior toward a city would play well with earlier civic assemblies (e.g., Isaeus Dicaeog. 46); it was helpful to portray an opponent’s actions as harmful to the people (Rhet. Alex. 4, 1426b.29–35). Describing shameful behavior was better than using insulting titles, which could create a backlash (35, 1441b.16–20); in public, one might even resort to sarcasm rather than direct attack (1441b.24–28). In Paul’s day, however, courts were vicious, with no holds barred, especially when the accusers were of such distinguished rank as here (Acts 24:1). Paul can thus be denounced directly as a “pest” (24:5).
It was, indeed, customary not only to attack on the basis of the charges but to smear the accused person’s character in other ways, slandering him or her as viciously as possible.205 When Fronto learns that the person he must prosecute is a friend of Caesar’s, he therefore promises to stick to the charges and not invent other accusations, but normally, shocking charges demanded prosecution with shocking tactics (Ad M. Caes. 3.3).206 When Josephus wishes to counter Apion’s anti-Jewish history, he also attacks his lexical work as a γραμματικός, since this will help undermine the scholar’s credibility.207
Inventing additional offenses to prejudice the audience against an adversary’s character was apparently common enough to warrant parody; the discourse of a losing speaker in a debate degenerates into insult: “Don’t we know who your father was, and how your mother was a courtesan, and that you strangled your brother. . . ?”208 In another case, an angry man threatens punishment for his opponent’s burning the Acropolis. Informed that the Acropolis has not been burned, he replies that the offense, then, was stealing from the treasury. When informed that the treasury has not been violated, he charges that it will be.209
Accepted forms of legal polemic included attacks on the opponent’s friends, witnesses, and so forth; “muckraking and fabrication” were commonplace.210 People respected Roman politicians not just for their patriotism or benevolence but also for inimicitiae, which included pursuing their honor by shaming their enemies; this was a mandatory step in gaining more dignitas.211 Cicero claims that he condescends to attack Vatinius not because anyone would grant credence to such a worthless person but only to crush his arrogance (Vat. 1.1–2). Cicero presumes, or pretends to presume, his audience’s knowledge of another’s wickedness but lavishly expands what the category of that person’s wickedness involved (Pis. 27.66). Apuleius notes that the misbehavior of Rufinus, who supports Apuleius’s opponent, has been known for years: he is “the deviser of all falsehoods, the architect of all pretences, the breeding-ground of all evils, yes, the place, the haunt, the brothel of licence and gluttony” (Apol. 74). But, of course, Rufinus is not alone in his wickedness: “his whole house is that of a pimp, his whole household corrupt. He himself is infamous, his wife a whore, and his sons are of the same calibre” (75). Orators could stir an audience’s passions by considering what the victims or their survivors had suffered212—quietly sidestepping the question of the defendant’s guilt.
For Luke’s audience, Tertullus is a cunning orator, fitting the worst stereotypes of seductive sophists.213 Ancients understood the principle that falsehood appears more credible when mixed with some truth (Polyb. 34.2.2). The charges against Paul can seem plausible precisely because they are not the first such charges against him (Acts 16:20–21; 17:7; 18:13; 19:26–27, though Luke shows the implausibility or rejection in each case). One who had led a life above reproach was difficult to convict (e.g., Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 7.58.2). Someone who has never had to be in court before or be charged with a scandal before is more likely to be innocent;214 when necessary, a defender could admit that accusations had been made against his client in the past but protest that they never resulted in a conviction.215 Speakers sometimes contended that the burden of proof rested more heavily on someone who was frequently charged than on someone who had rarely been brought to court.216 If the defendant had a bad reputation, one orator charges, it was his own fault; a truly honorable person ought to live in such a manner as to be above suspicion.217 Negative character made charges believable,218 whereas positive character made them difficult to accept.219 Defending himself based on his character, Apuleius avers, “Consistency of character with regard to virtue or wickedness . . . formed sure proof of embracing or spurning crime” (Apol. 90).220
Tertullus not only dismisses Paul with the derisive “this man” (instead of naming him)221 but lambasts him as a dangerous “plague.” Denouncing Paul as a “pest” was strategic. The term λοιμός meant “pestilence” (as in Luke 21:11, where λοιμοί is conjoined with the similar-sounding λιμοί, “famines”). But it also applied to scoundrels who were contagious, moral “plagues,” the most common use by far in the LXX.222 Discord (στάσις, also Acts 24:5; 23:7) could also be described as a societal sickness (Rhet. Alex. 1, 1422b.33–36). Demosthenes used λοιμός for someone who subverted the good of the state (Or. 25.80);223 someone being a “civic affliction” was a familiar expression for political unrest (Plato Prot. 322D).224
Perhaps even more relevant is that this charge closely echoes the phrase that the emperor Claudius had employed to describe Jews in 41 C.E.: “stirring up a plague everywhere, throughout the world.”225 (Cf. also Acts 17:6.) The context of Claudius’s complaint was Jewish agitation for greater rights in Alexandria, such as Alexandrian citizenship (permitted only to Greeks).226 Claudius warned Jews in Alexandria not to join with those in Syria or Egypt as if plotting against the entire world. He also warned that Alexandrians should stop denying local Jews the rights to practice their customs, granted by emperors (P.Lond. 1912.82–88); if, however, the Jews continued to agitate for further rights (such as Alexandrian citizenship), he would punish them as those “stirring a widespread plague [νόσον] infecting all the world [οἰκουμένης]” (P.Lond. 1912.98–100; CPJ 1.153.99–100). Being a “pest” encouraging unrest may have been the most damaging charge to level against a Jew in the decades between Claudius’s decree and Jerusalem’s revolt.227 How better could the Jerusalem elite demonstrate their fidelity to Rome against stirrers of this well-known Jewish unrest, Tertullus argued, than by opposing one of its agents—namely, Paul?228 (The tribune had quickly been disabused of precisely this notion in Acts 21:38.)
Would Luke’s audience be aware of an earlier emperor’s decree in Alexandria? Claudius’s later policies regarding Judaism probably affected them more directly (18:2), but in Roman colonies such as Philippi and Corinth, the decree may have been known, and Corinth’s Jewish community undoubtedly discussed and remembered it. It is possible that the language even passed into common usage. (A substantially later pagan anti-Jewish work might echo it, albeit in Alexandria.)229 Whether Luke and his audience knew it or not, however, the decree would surely have been known to Felix, to Ananias, and to Tertullus.
III. THE NEW CHARGE OF SEDITIO
Whether or not Luke’s audience might think of the anti-Jewish libel best attested in Claudius’s decree, Roman rhetorical handbooks emphasized that the charge of agitation (στάσις) or sedition was the most effective charge;230 this charge was dangerous under Claudius and Nero, though no more so than under Tiberius (as in Luke 23:2–5) and some other rulers. An ideal ruler should suppress unrest (στάσις, Mus. Ruf. 8, p. 64.13),231 as Felix had attempted to do (Acts 24:2); now, Tertullus implies, Felix has the opportunity to demonstrate his justice again. The Romans dealt harshly with all cases of στάσις (see Luke 23:19, 25; Acts 19:20; cf. Mark 15:7). Ironically, Paul’s case had generated στάσις among Jews recently; Luke uses this term to describe the Sanhedrin’s own division over Paul’s case (Acts 23:7, 10) and hence to underline the divisions that already existed between Pharisees and Sadducees there.
The primary charge is thus seditio, as in 17:6–7 and 18:12, an extremely dangerous offense with which to be charged;232 this is a new charge not previously noted. The case against Paul has quietly dropped the original religious charges and accusers, rephrasing charges as political complaints important to a Roman court.233 Rhetoricians did sometimes cloud the real issues at hand, focusing on points not directly related to the case.234 Yet changing charges invited denunciation for having invented charges during withering cross-examination,235 and Felix had already heard a report of the outcome of the first hearing (23:28–29; see comment on Acts 24:20–21, the climax of Paul’s argument). Were it not for weighty political considerations, Luke suggests, Felix might have thrown the case out of court.
Readers would know that Jesus faced the same charge of seditio in Luke 23:2 and was executed.236 He also faced multiple components in the charges against him before Pilate;237 the parallel with Jesus’s execution thus builds suspense for Paul here. The chief priests told Pilate that Jesus was leading the people astray, forbidding taxes to Caesar and claiming to be a king (23:2), but also (most relevant here) that he stirred up the people from Galilee to Judea (23:5). Luke apparently invites members of his ideal audience who already view Jesus favorably to view favorably Paul’s custody in the same terms.238
The flexible charge of maiestas against Paul could appear plausible; Nock emphasizes that “whatever Paul might say for himself, there had been riots in many places where he had been, and the Roman government did not like riots.”239 That Luke makes no attempt to conceal such unrest in his narratives is telling; that Luke blames it fairly often on Jewish opposition fits the rhetorical technique of returning charges against one’s opponents. Luke is undoubtedly historically correct that Paul’s opponents associated him with unrest (leading to his Roman custody)240 and that, contrary to their claims, Paul was not politically seditious. Given the agendas of the historical Paul revealed in his letters, it is unthinkable that his aim was destabilization of the Roman order (cf. esp. Rom 13:1–7); it is also clear that he faced considerable opposition.241
Inciting others to a crime was itself considered a crime only if the offense was treason.242 Maiestas, or treason, was a very broad category of offense that could include even executing hostages without the emperor’s permission;243 more specifically, “internal treason or sedition” included “assembling a mob, armed or otherwise, against the interests of the state, or occupying temples or other places.”244 Sedition was a lesser charge, but when maiestas was hard to demonstrate, seditio, or stirring up the people, proved more suitable.245 No clear line of demarcation separated treason from sedition, and they might share the same penalties.246
IV. PAUL’S CUMULATIVE HISTORY WITH RIOTS
Tertullus presents a potentially damning and cumulative case against Paul; that Luke must mount an extensive (and, from our knowledge of Paul, virtually convincing) refutation of it throughout Acts indicates that the charges Luke reports were certainly leveled against Paul historically.247
The claim that he had stirred such unrest “among all Jews throughout the world” resembles, as noted above, Claudius’s charge against the Jewish people as a whole (i.e., Paul’s accusers charge that if there is Jewish unrest, Paul is one of its instigators).248 It also fits conventional forensic hyperbole (also noted above).249 Offenses “throughout the world” were incomparably terrible offenses.250 It was possible to prove more hyperbolic than this: “Was there ever any riot [seditio],” Cicero demands, in which the object of his polemic “was not the leader? any rioter with whom he was not intimate? any disorderly meeting where he was not the ringleader?” (Sest. 52.1). Cicero’s additional language was, however, exceptional; the charge against Paul reflects, in itself, quite strong forensic hyperbole. But once the hyperbole is taken into account, the charge likely reflects knowledge that Paul has been active over a wide geographic range. Acts itself attests that Paul had impacted a substantial number of Jewish communities in the eastern Mediterranean region, excluding Egypt.
Paul’s arrest in Jerusalem, rather than in all these other places of alleged troublemaking, might seem more than coincidence, and the other claims would be questionable unless supported by evidence. Had there been time for research before this hearing (there was not, Acts 24:1), Paul’s opponents might have listed riots with which Paul was associated instead of simply accusing him in a general way (probably on the basis of the Asian Jewish accusers’ reports). Given sufficient warning, some Jews from Asia could have collected reports from other cities, though few would have been willing to travel around to various cities soliciting reports of unanswered charges that never251 produced a conviction. Josephus shows that Jews in Asia carefully preserved, over the course of many generations, legal precedents and reports on matters important to their survival and rights.
Undoubtedly Paul’s Asian Jewish adversaries had supplied the chief priest with their report from Ephesus and others they may have heard of, but these would have been only oral; they had not expected to find Paul, or an opportunity to accuse him, in Jerusalem, and hence would not have gathered documents and certainly would not have brought them to the festival. (Indeed, Paul had avoided Ephesus en route to Jerusalem, and many of these pilgrims would have left before the Ephesian elders returned from Miletus.) Even these oral reports are now secondhand, the original accusers having left (24:19), probably without offering formal affidavits (which might be effective but might also move Roman authorities sympathetic to Paul to invite these “witnesses” to appear).252 They might not wish to remain so long after a festival (24:11), but they might also not wish to be accountable for their charges. If these Asian Jews believe that Paul retains powerful patrons in Ephesus (19:31), they might not wish to come into open conflict with his patrons, weakening their own status in Ephesus.
Luke himself provides a substantial list of potential incidents, but in each case, he refutes the potential charges:253
Acts Passage
Luke’s Perspective
Jewish Involvement?
9:23–25
Paul meets opposition in Damascus
Jewish opposition
13:12
Paul and Barnabas receive a positive response from the proconsul
Despite a Jewish opponent
13:50
Aristocrats in Pisidian Antioch drive Paul and Barnabas out (perhaps forgotten by now; cf. 14:21–23)
Jewish instigation
14:5
Paul and Barnabas flee a mob in Iconium
Jewish instigation
14:19
Mob in Lystra nearly kills Paul
Jewish instigation
16:22–23
Paul and Silas are beaten in Philippi but vindicated (16:37–40)
Because of anti-Semitism
17:10
Paul escapes without responding to charges (but these expire once the politarchs have left office)
Jewish instigation
17:14
Paul is chased out of Beroea
Jewish instigation
17:32–34
Paul receives an acceptable response in Athens
No trouble from synagogue
18:12–17
Governor rejects the charges against Paul as purely religious
Jewish legal opposition
19:23
Riot erupts in Ephesus
No Jewish instigation, but it embarrasses the Jewish community (19:33–34)
21:28
Riot erupts in the Jerusalem temple
Jewish instigation
Where Roman officials appear, they are favorable, and the legal precedents positive (18:12–17; cf. 13:12); a favorable impression also results from intellectual dialogue (17:32–34; 19:9–10). But Jewish instigation appears in the vast majority of these instances where trouble occurred.254
Luke’s account is clearly ironic on this point: it is Paul’s opponents who stirred the riots, rather than Paul himself. Paul, on the other hand, has some legal precedents in his favor, especially the Achaian governor’s dismissal of frivolous religious charges brought by local synagogue leaders. Such official precedents could be concretely documented and would not dare be falsified.
The cumulative pattern of riots following Paul’s preaching would appear problematic,255 especially the one that resulted in his flight without exoneration in 17:10 (though the decree against him would be expired, it might still be remembered by local enemies and a matter of local record) and, most seriously, the riot in Ephesus. Ephesus was a major city, and historically the riot’s aftermath apparently left Paul mostly unwelcome there (see comment on Acts 20:16). Luke emphasizes that even in Ephesus there were no real grounds against Paul (19:40) and that the frivolous charge never came to court (19:38–39). For his own audience, Luke is probably defending Paul as the founder of a large circle of Diaspora churches, even as Paul’s detractors continued to contest his legacy. In locations such as Ephesus, some Christians may have come to see Paul’s reputation as hurtful baggage no less than his non-Christian Jewish detractors there apparently had (19:33–34; cf. 2 Tim 1:15). Although Luke’s interests may be primarily apologetic, he also makes good theological capital of the opposition: Jesus’s message does bring division (Luke 12:51–53), as Paul’s preaching has proved in synagogues (Acts 18:5–8; 19:8–9) and, in a sense, before the Sanhedrin (23:7, 10).
Such a reversal of charges fits ancient forensic rhetoric,256 but it is also central to Luke’s own apologetic. First-century Jews’ responses to riots were often to show, when possible, that their enemies caused the riots and therefore that Rome should reaffirm Jewish rights.257 If Luke can argue that Paul’s Jewish opponents, rather than Paul himself, incited many of these riots, he can contend that Christians should not be punished as authors of unrest.258 (Perhaps for this reason, in 18:2 he also omits the unrest in Rome that Suetonius attributes to one “Chrestus.”)
Of course, in the real world, extremists militantly hostile to some other people, including on religious grounds, do sometimes stir unrest, often inciting charges and countercharges between otherwise relatively peaceful communities.259 Paul’s letters do speak of experiencing considerable conflict, including with many Jewish leaders (cf. esp. 2 Cor 11:24), but hardly reveal him as one promoting sedition (cf. Rom 13:1–7); we can notice the rhetoric without dismissing the history. That people were sometimes in trouble through others’ enmity was well recognized (e.g., Dio Chrys. Ep. 1, to Rufus), and people often charged opponents with maliciously twisting the truth (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 7.35). Luke knows that Paul was vilified even within parts of the church (Acts 21:21).
Although Tertullus speaks pejoratively of the “Nazarenes,” it is not clear that his designation of the movement as a “sect” (αἵρεσις) would bear automatically pejorative connotations. Greeks used this term for “sect” to refer to various philosophic schools, such as Epicureans, Peripatetics, and Stoics (Epict. Diatr. 2.19.20),260 and possibly Skeptics.261 In the first and second centuries C.E., it could also mean a “voluntary association”;262 different schools of medical thought were also so described before the Christian period.263 The use of the term as referring to philosophic schools specifies groups with distinctive ideologies and justifies its application to Jewish “sects” (Acts 5:17; 15:5; 26:5). Josephus, who often applies the term to what he regards as the key movements within Palestinian Judaism,264 may be thinking of philosophic sects.265 Still, Tertullus is clearly hostile, and Paul reframes the language of “sect” to speak instead of the true “Way” in 24:14.266
Some scholars have suggested that the name “Nazarene” derives from the nezer (“branch”) title of Isa 11:1, as probably in Matt 2:23.267 More likely, the title derives from Jesus’s own title “Nazarene” and was probably originally applied to the disciples, as was the term “Christians” (Acts 11:26; 26:28), with derisive intent. The term “Nazarene” (in its two Greek forms) appears nineteen times in the NT (including six other times in Acts and three times in Luke’s Gospel), all of them (excepting this one and possibly Matt 2:23) designating Jesus by his place of origin. The title is by no means generally pejorative, but sometimes it is used in a pejorative manner (Acts 6:14)—perhaps related to Nazareth’s size (cf. John 1:46),268 though this is unclear.269 It was apparently as orthodox a city as any.270
Luke undoubtedly preserves a genuine Judean usage here. Although the usage originally arose probably from outsiders,271 Jewish believers adopted it just as Gentile believers adopted the equally hostile “Christian” title; Tertullian and Eusebius know this as a title of early Christians, and it is unlikely that they derived the title solely from Tertullus’s denunciation in Acts 24:5.272 By calling Paul a ringleader of the Nazarenes, Tertullus forces him to defend all of the Judean Jewish movement;273 this is, naturally, what both Luke and Luke’s Paul would prefer (Luke 12:11–12; 21:12–13), as Paul’s earlier “defense” speech in Acts 22:3–21 demonstrates.274
Tertullus’s primary point is to denigrate Paul, recognizing that the Nazarenes are a minority sect favored by the poor and much less represented among the elite (cf. 21:20). By following a “messiah” executed for treason by the Romans, Nazarenes were easily associated with sedition (though more in rhetoric than in reality; in contrast to the groups mentioned in 21:38, Nazarenes do not appear to be persecuted or viewed as threatening in these years).275 Moreover, a purveyor of ideas could not easily produce change by violence unless he had many followers.276
Ringleaders bore special responsibility for crimes committed by their movements.277 But by pointing out that Paul is a leader in this movement and a stirrer of dissension elsewhere, it is just possible (though no more than that) that Tertullus intends to warn Felix that Paul is a commanding speaker and so Felix should not be taken in by what Paul says. Speakers would sometimes pretend to fear opponents’ eloquence or authority (to keep the judge skeptical of the opponents’ intentions; Quint. Inst. 4.1.11), presenting opponents as cleverer speakers than themselves (Isaeus Astyph. 35; Aristarch. 1). Nicolaus of Damascus neutralized the effects of a defendant’s pathos by warning of his craftiness (Jos. War 1.637). Cicero again provides examples: he warns that the opposing orator is more eloquent than himself (Quinct. 1.1–4; 24.77), but concludes with such a clinching argument (25.78–80) that no amount of sophistry could challenge it (26.80–27.85).278 Apuleius’s accuser began his case by warning of Apuleius’s eloquence (Apul. Apol. 4).
Judges or juries might need to be reminded not to let a person’s influence (Suet. Tib. 33)279 or his advocate’s eloquence (Val. Max. 8.9.3) sway the case in his favor, a caution that Paul might have also had reason to urge in view of his opponents’ status (Acts 24:1). It was helpful to note where one’s opponent held advantages, to keep the judge vigilant against them (Rhet. Alex. 36, 1442a.16–18). It was always wise to anticipate an opponent’s objections,280 and Paul’s persuasiveness (and probably training) was known. Thus an accuser, after declaring an opponent’s evils (Aeschines Tim. 70), could warn that the opponent would soon deny the charges (Tim. 71).281
By claiming that Paul is influential in the Nazarene sect (more so than he actually is, cf. Acts 21:21), Tertullus may unwittingly give Felix a cause to tread carefully regarding Paul. If Ananias and his sect of Sadducees were politically powerful though small, the Nazarene sect was, though politically powerless, influential with the people and probably larger even than the Pharisaic sect. (Pharisaism itself had a similar populist appeal, though it was of higher economic and educational status, on average, than the Nazarenes; see comment on Acts 21:20.) Given the social networks of Mediterranean cities (and especially Roman society), prosecuting or condemning a person incurred the enmity of his supporters.282
Even if the Nazarenes were currently not a threat, they were numerous, and what Felix would least want to do, given the insurrection throughout Judea, was to provoke an urban group to join in insurrection. (He had, however, been provoking peasants in the countryside.) More likely, Felix, who knows about the Nazarenes (24:22), simply does not believe them subversive but recognizes that much of the Jerusalem elite disagrees. In other words, he finds himself in virtually the same situation with Paul and the Nazarenes that Pilate had with Jesus two and a half to three decades earlier.
VIII. DEFILING THE TEMPLE (24:6A)
Denouncing categories of people (such as “adulterers” or “fathers”), though useful, allows only generalizations about behavior,283 and so it is more strategic rhetorically to address a specific person’s behavior (Hermog. Issues 29–30). Calling Paul a “pest” in a general way is useless without a concrete illustration, and the only case his accusers can try to prove is that Paul “attempted” to profane the temple—behavior that they will argue is consistent with his past (alleged) activity and that he (and Luke) will argue is inconsistent with it.
The one charge concrete enough to prove effective against Paul is this charge of attempting to profane the temple; it assumes eyewitnesses (who are not, however, present for the trial, Acts 24:19). Although Lysias’s description of Paul’s seizure sounds less civil than does their own account, they might wish to construe Lysias’s words in 23:27 (presumably now part of the public record) as an arrest, the impression they wish to leave about their own behavior here (although κρατέω also means “seize”).284 The impression of an arrest, or at least a coordinated seizure based on Jewish law, sounds orderly and deliberate, an impression naturally conveyed by the currently unified legal front against Paul. The informed reader, of course, knows that this implication is false. On the historical level, it also contradicts what Luke believes happened, because, had he believed that Jewish authorities first arrested Paul and then delivered him to the Romans, he could have used it to confirm his parallel with Jesus (as in Agabus’s prophecy, 21:11). The temple police closed the temple doors (21:30) and may have been advancing through the crowd; but they had discernible clothing, and if they, rather than the mob, had been in control, it is unlikely that Lysias would have intervened and “rescued” Paul (23:27).285 Knowing Lysias’s report, Felix may greet the Jerusalem elders’ claim with controlled skepticism.
Gentiles could be executed (perhaps even directly, Jos. War 6.126) for violating the temple,286 but whereas Paul’s supposed Gentile companion could have been killed had he been apprehended, no clear precedent existed for Paul’s own conviction. It was clear, however, that massive protests could secure the execution of a Roman (or at least an auxiliary soldier) who disturbed the peace by desecrating something sacred to the Jewish people.287
Unfortunately for Paul’s accusers, they cannot prove the claim offered in Acts 21:28; the Gentile was never found (otherwise he, too, would have been arraigned). Had the Asian Jews named Trophimus (21:29), the latter probably would have had eyewitnesses attesting his presence elsewhere at the time (i.e., an alibi), since he belonged to a group and, as a foreigner, would not likely be wandering alone in the city.288 False witnesses (6:13) would be problematic if there were counterwitnesses, and most would not want to risk the penalty for false witness in a capital case if the judge might prove unsympathetic (in contrast to 6:12–15). It might be more difficult to secure the death sentence for the more modest charge that Paul’s accusers must settle for—that he attempted to profane the temple—a charge that, most tellingly, they likewise cannot prove (24:13; cf. 25:7)!289 It is the sort of charge difficult to falsify but also to verify, because it addresses intention. Probable intention could be established only by the claims of 24:5 about Paul’s long history as a rabble-rouser, claims that at this point they also could not prove.
Moreover, the same alleged background (24:5) does not fit the concrete charge: if Paul stirs Diaspora Jews to sedition, like a Judean revolutionary gone abroad, one would associate him more naturally with those who thought the temple authorities too lax in their administration of the temple’s sanctity, not someone who would profane the temple itself. That such a person would have sought to bring a Gentile into the temple would seem even less compelling; it might also imply a pro-Gentile attitude, not the impression that Tertullus would want to offer before Felix.290 Thus even the concrete charge is vague (at least in Luke’s summary): Paul sought to desecrate the temple, but the means of his desecration are left unclear. Perhaps Tertullus hopes that Paul will attempt to explain, providing evidence against himself in the process. If the historical speech behind Luke’s summary expanded the charge in greater detail, it is hard to know how Tertullus could have made the charge sound compelling.
f. Lysias’s Interference (24:6b–8)
The textual problem of 24:6b–8a remains a matter of dispute. Textually, the addition is certainly suspect, and its genuineness is highly unlikely.291 The earliest manuscripts favor its omission, although the geographic evidence is more divided (with Syriac, and also Armenian and Ethiopic, support for its inclusion but Coptic, and also Western and Georgian, support for its omission). Certainly the natural referent of οὗ in 24:8 should be Paul, not Lysias.292 At the same time, the addition makes some sense,293 whether because it reflects tradition or (more likely) because it reflects a logical inference from the text. It therefore merits comment, even if only by way of exploring the inferences drawn by ancient commentators closer to the culture than are their modern counterparts.
Whereas in 18:15 a Roman governor, against their petition, wanted synagogue leaders themselves to deal with internal religious law, here the petitioners want to judge Paul themselves (on a capital charge) or induce Felix to condemn him for sedition. Because the charge against Paul is that of profaning the temple, the Jerusalem authorities ideally want the Romans to hand Paul over to them, in contrast to the fate of Jesus, who was handed over to Rome by the Jerusalem leaders.294 In their private view, plots to assassinate Paul (23:12–15; 25:3) would simply be exercising the right that was wrongly taken from them in the beginning. Jews’ escape from Jewish punishment through appeal to Roman governors probably often frustrated Jewish courts,295 but this would be especially the case where Roman policy explicitly granted Jewish courts jurisdiction.296
Whereas Lysias claimed to have “rescued” Paul from Jewish violence (23:27), Paul’s accusers now attribute the only real violence to Lysias.297 Therefore Felix should now put this offense right.298 The textual variant at this point may be wrong, but its inference that Paul’s enemies complained about Lysias is not impossible;299 once Lysias’s letter is public knowledge (as it might have become at the initial hearing in 24:1), the chief priests cannot win their case without challenging his credibility, and their relations with Roman administrators were often adversarial in any case. Their alleged claim is bold but unlikely to succeed; Lysias’s action was public, and his soldiers could attest that they intervened in the face of violence.
The momentary bilingual confusion of the mob situation, however, might render plausible a Roman misunderstanding of the real situation, and the chief priests could well expect Lysias to prove unable to explain the least plausible claim in his letter—namely, that he knew Paul to be a Roman citizen before he intervened (23:27). How could Lysias have known that? If someone else knew and reported this to him, where was that witness? Tertullus could not cross-examine Lysias, but Felix could. In Roman (and Greek) courts, as noted above, those who took a defendant’s side as witnesses or supporters could themselves become targets of the prosecution.300 (Likewise, the prosecutor could be attacked by defendants’ friends.)301 Paul’s opponents could also charge that Lysias, by allowing Paul to speak in 21:40, even after subduing him, was careless in controlling a dangerous riot (22:22–24).
Further, Jerusalem’s aristocracy posed more of a political threat to Felix than one of his subordinates would.302 Lysias could be expected to continue to support Paul; once a person used his influence to back another, failure brought him a corresponding measure of shame.303 If we reject the authenticity of 24:7 (and we probably should), we should do so on textual grounds, not because the claim is too dramatic.
Lysias’s letter does not specify for Felix exactly what group seized Paul (23:27 simply says, “the Jews”), but it certainly implies that the Sanhedrin was part of his opposition (23:28–29); now Ananias and the elders confirm the connection, even taking responsibility for the “arrest” (24:6a). Felix might be inclined to believe Lysias304 and would not likely want to leave his own representative in Jerusalem open to charges without good reason. Nevertheless, Ananias and his allies posed a far more potent political threat if they were dishonored as if untruthful,305 and they were far more useful allies if Felix put them in his debt by granting another favor. Josephus does not portray Felix as particularly sensitive to the Jerusalem aristocracy’s concerns306 (which Josephus often plausibly portrays as Jewish attempts to keep peace against incompetent governors’ provocation), and this independence may be a factor contributing to why he does not simply hand Paul over; but neither would Felix desire to provoke Ananias deliberately over what Felix would view as a relatively small matter.
If Lysias somehow learned about the plot (as revealed in his letter to Felix), the chief priests might suspect the possibility that he also learned about their cooperation with it. In case he had spoken ill of them to Felix, they could use the standard Greco-Roman forensic practice of counterattacking accusers (or, in this case, potential accusers; on the practice, see comment on Acts 24:19). Felix may partly protect Lysias in 24:22 (although Lysias’s note did not implicate the chief priests, their own hostility toward Paul, demonstrated in 24:1–8, might suggest their common cause with the assassins). It was standard practice in forensic rhetoric to attack those likely to be supporters of one’s opponents (e.g., Aeschines Tim. 193–95). The text of Acts 24:6b–8a is rightly suspect, yet its substance is, at the least, a later scribe’s plausible inference, rooted in understanding the character of ancient forensic rhetoric.
It was conventional forensic rhetoric to assert that one spoke the truth and that one’s enemy lied and to imply confidence that the very prudent judges in charge of the case certainly would recognize this.307 Thus a speaker could plead that if his judges would only hear him objectively, he would readily persuade them that he was “guilty of no crime.”308 A speaker could imply his opponent’s lack of integrity by claiming that it was knowledge already common to the jurors.309 Each side could claim to present the genuine facts, inviting a verdict on its behalf;310 many repeated charges more strenuously than evidence warranted,311 perhaps to compensate for its lack. Cicero announces that his account corresponds precisely with the facts, even where what we would regard as a more balanced extant account disagrees.312 A prosecutor could allege something without proof, and when another denied it under oath, the prosecutor could note that he expected this denial, since the man is a liar.313
Orators often urged judges (most frequently in their conclusions) to render verdicts conforming to justice,314 with the implication that the orators found their own case persuasive and just. Thus, for example, again Cicero urges the jury to vote with its convictions, so honoring those who wisely chose the bravest and wisest jurors.315 Rhetorical employment of impudence and volume sometimes succeeded in court more effectively than calm reason.316
Because the governor had freedom to judge extra ordinem,317 accusers with high status could simply allege “facts” without evidence, inviting the governor to exercise his own right to investigate.318 On the rhetorical level, the request for an impartial investigation again implied (by insinuatio) that the truth of their cause was self-evident.319
That “the Judeans” (i.e., the high priest and elders of Acts 24:1) “joined the attack”320 recalls insistent cries for Jesus’s condemnation in Luke’s passion narrative (Luke 23:18, 21, 23), including by the chief priests (23:5, 10).321 Perhaps they acted as if they were witnesses, but while some (like the high priest) may well have been in the temple during the events at issue, it is unlikely that they dared claim to be eyewitnesses to the alleged attempted desecration, since they could face cross-examination (Acts 24:13, 19). In any case, the elders’ contributions to Tertullus’s claim would rhetorically reinforce their cause: the weight of high-status plaintiffs stands behind the charge.
Luke’s audience faces suspense:322 the rhetorical and political strength of Paul’s opposition seems impossible to surmount, especially for readers recalling Jesus’s condemnation by Pilate. But through his conversion, Paul became one of the earliest church’s few public voices with significant status, and his counterargument is critical. If any Christian can defend himself in court, it will be Paul; the stakes are therefore high, since his vindication could help the rest of the movement (cf. Phil 1:7).
Although Luke has greatly abbreviated Tertullus’s case (the promise of brevity in Acts 24:4 is conventional), 24:9 allows Luke to imply that much more was said on this occasion than the précis he has provided (see comment on Acts 2:40).
Paul responds to Tertullus’s argument skillfully. His opponents cannot prove their case or even dignify its plausibility; the true vendetta against him is purely theological. Luke also illustrates God’s promises: probably at least partly because Paul is empowered by the promised Spirit, Paul speaks for himself instead of depending on a hired orator like Tertullus (Luke 12:11–12; 21:13–15). Not surprisingly, Luke narrates much more of the substance of Paul’s speech than that of Tertullus. In contrast to Tertullus’s proem in Acts 24:2–3, followed by assertions in 24:5–6, Paul’s proem (24:10) consumes a much briefer proportion of his reported speech, which focuses on evidence, procedure, and content (24:11–21).
Various rhetorical strategies include Paul’s conceding and confessing what is not a crime (24:14); emphasizing Paul’s practice of virtue, the antithesis of the charges (24:17); possibly reversing the charges by innuendo (24:18); underlining the relevant legal observation that the proper plaintiffs have not appeared (24:19; this should close the case); and finally, pointing out that the real issue is purely theological (24:20–21; as in 24:14–15). For further rhetorical observations, see discussion on the particular verses in this section.
Before examining the speech in more detail, it is helpful to survey some features of Paul’s strategy, to come to an understanding of why he speaks for himself, and to survey a proposed rhetorical outline.
Despite the suspense generated by Tertullus’s rhetorical skill and the status of Paul’s opponents, Paul has his adversaries in a situation where he needs them to be legally. First, the original accusers are not present (24:19), and so the case ought to be thrown out of court. Second, accusers in this sort of trial bear the burden of proof,323 and these accusers can offer none (24:13; cf. 25:7). Third, their motives for bringing charges are clearly suspect. The only charge addressed in the Sanhedrin’s preliminary hearing (which Lysias’s own letter attested in 23:28–29) is a doctrinal difference within Judaism itself (24:20–21)—no offense actionable in a Roman court. Indeed, most of Paul’s defense draws attention to Jewish questions that no Roman governor would admit as actionable in a Roman court (24:14–21).
Paul’s ultimate objective, however, is not self-defense; rather, as Luke 21:12–13 urges in such situations, it is to testify about Christ (Acts 24:24–25; 26:27–29). The present speech does focus on self-defense, as Paul’s life hangs in the balance; he must establish that the case is purely theological and not political.324 Yet in making his argument, he is also vindicating the Christian movement against its accusers. Once the new governor has publicly announced his opinion that Paul is innocent (25:24–25) and he is simply “seeking assistance in formulating the requisite memorandum to be forwarded to Rome for the appeal,” Paul seeks to persuade an influential ruler to turn to Christ (26:26–29).325
Paul does not try to explain specific cases of past riots in order to show that they were caused by his enemies rather than by himself. Luke does this skillfully enough in narratives since Paul’s conversion (and especially from Acts 14 forward), and so there is no need to provide it for Luke’s audience again in Paul’s speech. But specific cases are probably missing in Paul’s speech for another reason as well. In five days of preparation and without time or even a compelling interest to procure witnesses from Diaspora cities against this one person, Tertullus perhaps could have done no more than asserted that Paul was guilty of causing riots. If so, at this point Paul does not even need to offer the concession that riots have surrounded him, apart from the riot in question, which he can show was directed against him. Conceding a pattern of riots at this point would unnecessarily arouse suspicion and require a detailed defense—with the onus of proof on Paul—rather than a vigorous refutation of the central charges.
Why does Paul not have an advocate aiding him as the high priest does? Although some wanted defendants to make their case in their own words, without an advocate (the emperor in Suet. Claud. 16.2), this was not the general expectation. Advocates for the prosecution and/or the defense were common practice.326 In classical times, orators usually wrote speeches for their clients to present in the clients’ first person; sometimes, however, friends could function as advocates for others (e.g., Isaeus Nicost. 1).327 Advocates were common in the Roman republic (e.g., Plut. Cic. 5.2; 39.5) and remained so in this era. Still, high-status speakers might argue their own case; women, children, slaves, and some others would need advocates (Hermog. Method 21.436–37).
Perhaps Paul lacked an advocate because it would be difficult to procure an orator of high caliber (to compete with the sort of orator the high priest would hire) in the five days since his arrival (Acts 24:1).328 The Roman practice was originally (in the republic) for patrons, who had rhetorical training, to represent their clients in court.329 Once playing an unpaid role, advocates eventually received fees.330 Although the senate may have waived official fees for advocates early in Nero’s reign (Tac. Ann. 13.5), this would have little effect in the provinces, and Nero seems to have repealed the restriction anyway, albeit limiting the price (Suet. Nero 17).331 Unless Paul’s collection was rejected (which, as argued above, was unlikely), Paul may have limited funds at his disposal (though Felix must have thought otherwise, Acts 24:26). Even if it were rejected, Paul would not likely feel free to employ the donations of Diaspora churches for Jerusalem in this manner.
Paul probably would have sufficient friends and supporters, however, to hire an advocate if he expected it to help. Instead, Paul apparently chooses to represent himself because he knows his case best and can do so.332 Paul’s rhetoric is good,333 as one might expect for a person engaged for years in public speaking;334 many upper-class persons, trained in rhetoric, spoke for themselves.335 Yet Luke probably expects us to think especially of Paul’s relying on the facts rather than on rhetorical skills (see comment on orators at Acts 24:1). Regardless of how much time Paul may or may not have had to prepare, Luke emphasizes Paul’s making a case boldly, depending on the same Holy Spirit promised in the Gospel (Luke 12:12; 21:15). Xenophon denies that Socrates sought to prepare a defense (Apol. 1ff.), though Socrates acted from motives very different from Paul’s; when he tried to write it out, his guardian deity would not allow it (Xen. Mem. 4.8.5). That was because, in Socrates’s case, it was his appropriate time to die (4.8.6).336
Although the stakes are high, Paul has some reason for confidence. In the narrative so far, Paul has had some bad experiences with local authorities (Acts 16:19–23;337 17:7) but generally good experiences with Roman governors and officers (18:14–16;338 21:32–33; 22:29; 23:24). It may also bear mention that the historical Paul’s letters also suggest an appreciation for government when it fulfills its proper function (Rom 13:1–7; cf. also 1 Pet 2:13–15; 4:15–16). Felix may prove unworthy of such approbation (Acts 24:26–27), but Paul would not necessarily know this yet.
III. SUGGESTED FORENSIC STRUCTURE
The structure of this speech differs notably from the “kerygmatic” outline often attributed to evangelistic speeches earlier in Acts (though Luke does include Jesus’s resurrection). Although some scholars debate whether this is a genuine forensic defense speech339 and although actual speeches need not follow the standard genres or the narrow outlines of rhetorical handbooks, forensic features are prominent in this speech as in the one it answers (24:2–8).340 Bruce Winter suggests a structure for this speech that closely parallels the Roman defense speech found in Quintilian:341
One might outline this section differently343 (in practice, speeches could mix narration with proofs; 24:17–18 is also narrative; refutation occurs throughout 24:13–21),344 but the ideas are certainly compatible with a forensic argument.
The governor nods345 to signal his permission for Paul to speak; figures with authority could use a nod for various purposes, such as to express assent or to confirm a promise.346 Even a bold prospective martyr might wait for permission before speaking (4 Macc 5:14–15), and we should not be surprised that Paul would address a Roman official respectfully (the Paul of the letters exhorts this very sort of behavior in Rom 13:7). Paul’s exordium in Acts 24:10 contains some of the most elegant Greek in Acts, appropriately beginning the defense with the best rhetorical foundation.347
Paul recognizes that Felix has been for “many years” a judge for the nation. It is possible that the phrase is simply conventional, as it appears to be in one text that commentators regularly cite: Claudius notes that he had long entertained goodwill toward Alexandria’s citizens, when, in fact, he had been emperor only one year (P.Lond. 6.1912.22).348
Nevertheless, the suggestion that Felix had been judge for only two years at this time349 is unlikely. Most scholars argue that Felix had governed since 52 C.E. (cf. Jos. Ant. 20.137; War 2.247),350 but some argue for as early as 49.351 It is quite possible (if Tacitus’s sources are reliable here) that Felix did rule Samaria from an earlier period, while the governor Cumanus ruled Judea (so Tac. Ann. 12.54).352 Though Tacitus’s reconstruction raises the question of why Josephus notes Felix’s being “sent” only after Cumanus’s fall, it is clear that Felix had to return to Rome with Cumanus; although he was exonerated, all sources agree that he was in Rome at the time of his appointment.
How “many years” intervened between his appointment and this hearing depends on when we date this narrative; a common view is that it was about 57 C.E., but dates range later and earlier (see discussion at Acts 21:38). If either the scene occurs as late as 57 or Felix governed a few years earlier than 52, “many years” would represent a minimum of five; even a handful of years might require little exaggeration. It was helpful for a case whenever a judge was already acquainted with the issues surrounding both sides of a case (Phaedrus 3.13.4). For the dates of Felix’s tenure, see also the discussion at Acts 23:24.
II. IMPLIED CONFIDENCE IN FELIX’S UNDERSTANDING
Acknowledging Felix’s long tenure as a judge as a basis for his confidence353 is tantamount to the convention mentioned above (on Acts 24:8) of expressing confidence in the judge’s discernment and the rightness of one’s cause.354 Isocrates concludes to a jury that he trusts that their judgment will be for his good, and encourages its members to vote as they feel best (Antid. 323); he does not pause to point out that, naturally, they would do so with or without his permission! Cicero claims that if truth remains in the land, the judge will hear him (Quinct. 1.5), but he has full confidence, he insists, in the judge’s integrity (2.1).355 He has worked so hard against corruption that everyone now recognizes that not in the past decade has a jury “of such illustrious and acknowledged merit” been chosen (Verr. 2.1.7.18).356 Another speaker is depicted as inviting his jurors to play prosecutor also, so sure is he of having more than sufficient evidence for his acquittal (Lucian Fisherman 9). Rhetoricians advised praising judges or jurors for their competence,357 and it was common practice.358 Flattery might be superfluous for a well-disposed audience (Rhet. Alex. 29, 1436b.19–29), but it would be important for a neutral audience (1436b.30–38).
Although Paul’s captatio is likely a summary, it might be significant that it omits any compliments about Felix establishing peace, justice, and so forth.359 If so, Paul’s boldness here fits Luke’s portrait of apostolic παρρησία, which would appeal to those who respected philosophers.360 If this is too much to infer from a summary (and it may be), it is not too much to infer from Paul’s subsequent behavior (Acts 24:25). Certainly, Paul does not fit the negative portrait of flattery common in ancient literature but instead merely expresses appropriate respect.361 Given that Luke knows the kind of person Felix proved to be in the end (24:27), he may feel no obligation to portray him favorably or emphasize positive remarks from Paul.
Paul’s captatio fits the issue under discussion—namely, Felix’s competence in knowing Jewish culture and hence his ability to apprehend the theological character of a debate about the resurrection.362 Felix’s marriage to a Jewess (24:24) provided him additional knowledge (cf. 24:22); although portrayed by Josephus as hardheaded, on occasion he had been persuaded by argument (Jos. Ant. 20.178).363
c. Arrival for Worship Twelve Days Earlier (24:11)
In Luke’s summary, Paul finishes his proem (24:10) more concisely than Tertullus does (24:2–3) and focuses (in 24:11–21) on evidence and procedure, unlike Tertullus’s assertions (24:5–6). Paul already offers an argument in his defense in his introductory narratio, or narration of events leading up to the present situation. Because Luke provides us only a summary of Paul’s speech, there are several possibilities about how the “twelve days” figures into his argument. That he came to worship probably increases his ēthos.
Most scholars find the summary of the narratio in Acts 24:11;364 a narratio would be necessary when the events around which the case revolved were in dispute.365 A narratio often included the length and sequence of events. Prosecutors could usually make most of the “sequence of events” in a narration (Hermog. Issues 47.8–11), analyzing “the sequence of events alleged by one or other party . . . in order to establish its coherence and plausibility and to highlight its implications.”366 If Tertullus’s narratio included more than what our summary of his speech indicates (a reasonable guess), it is possible (though not certain) that Paul counters his claims here. Paul returns to the narration of events in Acts 24:17–18; speakers could divide the narratio and use some of it in proofs367 (or summarize it in their conclusion).
Even were this narratio not a summary, we should not be surprised by its comparative brevity. Aside from the general value of conciseness (see comment on Acts 24:4), we should note that some Hellenistic rhetoricians thought it best to keep the narratio as concise as possible, using it meanwhile to convince hearers without their awareness (subliminally, so to speak; Dion. Hal. Lysias 18). That Luke elsewhere often prefers a long narratio befits his own preference for communicating a narrative message.
The twelve days since entering Jerusalem apparently include only the time before Paul’s arrival before Felix in Caesarea (Acts 23:33), usually delineated as follows (with the five more recent days added in the table’s final line):368
Count of Days
Reference in Acts
Activity
First day
21:17
Arrival in Jerusalem
Second day
21:18
Meeting with James and elders
Third through ninth days
21:27
Seven days of purification (they may have been somewhat fewer: they were “nearly” up)
Tenth day
22:30
Sanhedrin hearing
*
23:11–12
The plot
Twelfth day
23:31–33
Transfer (escape) to Caesarea
Seventeenth day
24:1
Hearing after five days
*
ἐπιούσῃ
LXX
RSV, NIV, NKJV, ESV, NET
KJV, ASV
EW
ENTURY
Acts
Acts
Acts
NRSV, GNT, NLT
NASB
The five days since Paul came to Caesarea (24:1) and three of the twelve days (spent in Roman custody) would not count toward days he could have spent making trouble. Luke records carefully these days in his own narrative to demonstrate how strong Paul’s case was, just as he also reports potential witnesses on whom Paul could have called if necessary (Mnason, James, or, in Caesarea itself, where the hearing was being held, Philip and others who could attest how recently he had left for Jerusalem, presumably for Pentecost and in the company of other pilgrims). Some from Caesarea had even accompanied him part of the way (21:16); they could become useful as witnesses (cf. 11:12).369
The particular reasons offered for Luke’s mentioning the twelve days reflect less consensus. One view argues plausibly that the events are so recent that the supposed witnesses should be available.370 In this case, Paul appeals, as Tertullus did in 24:8, to Felix’s right (extra ordinem) to investigate the matter.371 Now that the festival was presumably over, Paul’s Asian Jewish accusers, who actually witnessed nothing directly, have probably gone home, but some of Paul’s supporting witnesses may have remained. Another possibility, though not a likely one, is that Paul’s recently shaved hair is external evidence that he recently completed his vow in Jerusalem (18:18; 21:26). But aside from our own uncertainty as to how he completed the vow, nothing in the text (admittedly condensed) suggests to us that Felix has sufficient information to understand this sense, though long-term defendants normally let their hair grow long.372
Another view is that Paul’s mere nine days of freedom in Jerusalem hardly offered “time to foment a rebellion!”373 How, then, was he accused of inciting all the political turmoil his opponents attributed to him? This would have been an argument from probability. Centuries earlier, Aristotle allowed that when no witnesses were available, an argument might be decided by probability (Rhet. 1.15.17, 1376a). Such arguments were already standard in classical rhetoric,374 and they often remained useful in the Hellenistic375 and Roman periods (see also comment at Acts 26:8). When Cicero could not refute a charge based on facts, he could resort to the probability argument, favored by Greek orators.376
Given the mere twelve days, the argument of Paul’s opponents does not cohere well with the evidence or their own claims. Discrepancies in an opposing argument helped undermine the opponent’s case,377 and even an opponent’s own arguments could be exploited to serve one’s side.378 For example, Cicero protests the unlikelihood that a man who genuinely believed another had cheated him would then enter a business partnership with him (Quinct. 24.76).379 The same method obtained in other genres as well; thus historians and biographers could evaluate claims on the basis of internal consistency380 or other matters of probability.381 Josephus uses the same method in his apologetic against Apion, showing inherent self-contradictions in the logic of Judaism’s critics.382 Once one discovered any inconsistencies in an opposing position, undiscerning hearers would usually mistrust everything in the opponent’s speech (Rhet. Alex. 9, 1430a.14–21).383 (See further comment at Acts 26:8.)
Lest anyone doubt Paul’s arrival date (which could be confirmed by witnesses, including some in Caesarea itself), Paul also had good reason to be going up to Jerusalem when he did. Paul may appeal to Felix’s knowledge of Judean customs in Acts 24:10 precisely because an allusion in 24:11 may take it for granted. Although it is not clear that Felix came to Jerusalem himself on this occasion, he could not but have known (and undoubtedly dispatched additional troops for) the recent festival. Paul had hoped to be in Jerusalem in time for Pentecost (20:16), and Luke’s chronology in the travel narrative suggests that he almost certainly succeeded. Felix will recognize that if Paul came to Jerusalem only twelve days before his detention in Caesarea (a fact verifiable, as noted above, by witnesses even in Caesarea itself), he came in peace at the same time and for the same reason as most other Jews were coming.384 Thus Paul points out that he came to Jerusalem “to worship.”385
Paul could also be offering a particular sort of argument from probability, namely, one based on his ēthos: how plausible is it that someone would go up to the temple only for the festival (24:11)386 and to bring alms (24:17) yet would merit the sort of denunciations the chief priests gave him? He was instead framed because of his theological convictions, which his accusers rejected (24:5c, 14–15).
This form of probability argument, based on the respective claimants’ character or behavior, was common (see also discussion at Acts 24:14–16). Thus a case was hardly probable if a strong man charged a weaker one with assault, a poor man claimed that a rich man had seized his wealth, or a man known for violence charged a man with a reputation for peace.387 Likewise, defendants could show that neither they nor anyone of their class or circle had ever committed the crimes of which they were accused.388
Examples abound. If Fannius was a rogue and Roscius an honorable person, is it really likely that the latter cheated the former (Cic. Rosc. com. 7.21)? One of noble character would not be guilty of such crimes, and so Sulla must be innocent (Cic. Sull. 24.68);389 could his hearers think of any deed he has done compatible with such charges (26.72)? The accuser is a habitual liar (Cic. Cael. 29.69).390 If the testator was our constant benefactor, surely this reveals his intention better than an old will made in haste (Isaeus Cleon. 12.36; 27.37). The charge that one withheld much property contradicts his character, illustrated, for example, in his expenditures on the city’s welfare (Lysias Or. 19.24, §154). Claiming that alleged acts are out of keeping with one’s character could help refute a probability argument based on such actions being profitable to one (Rhet. Alex. 36, 1443b.34–38).
Rather than defend himself against a charge he regarded as absurd, Scipio refused to stoop so low; he simply recounted his irreproachable life and so silenced his accusers (Appian Hist. rom. 11.7.40–41). Likewise, Xenophon claims that Socrates viewed his whole life as his defense (Mem. 4.8.4; Apol. 3). For arguments based on ēthos, see further comment on Acts 23:1.
d. The Prosecution Lacks Evidence (24:12–13)
Paul points out that Tertullus could not cite any testimony of Paul’s seditious activity anywhere in Jerusalem (Acts 24:12)—testimony that might be rendered suspicious, in any case, by the recent character of Paul’s arrival (24:11). Not only in this matter but in any at all, Tertullus cannot offer (and apparently has not offered) any proof (24:13). A defendant would sometimes briefly rebut the charges, in order, and then refute them more extensively, again—barring good reason to the contrary—in their sequence.391 If Luke is summarizing any such procedure here, it is not impossible that Paul may have historically responded in sequence to the charges in 24:5–6. Paul begins by answering the sedition charge in 24:12, then perhaps turns to complaints about his Nazarene faith in 24:14–16, and finally addresses the temple desecration charge in 24:17–19.
I. NO DEBATES IN JERUSALEM (24:12)
Paul responds immediately to the accusations of stirring unrest among Jerusalemites, especially in the temple (24:5–6). Starting with an opponent’s accusation was an acceptable method in traditional forensic speech (Dion. Hal. Lysias 17); commonly one would summarize the opponent’s argument, then refute it (Lysias 26).392 (The denial here of making ἐπίστασις—that is, of stirring people up—directly responds to the dangerous charge of στάσις in Acts 24:5.) Proving events in Ephesus and distant cities would be difficult; since Paul, as the defendant, speaks after the prosecution, he wisely focuses on the only time for which evidence is easily available, that is, the time in Jerusalem. This focus also protects him from charges that might gain credibility by their frequent repetition in other cities.
That Paul had come to the city by no means proved that he had come to stir unrest. Indeed, in the city itself, the sphere of his accusers’ own observation, he had barely been present long enough to do so (24:11). His mention of a lack of disputes in the synagogues could refer to his alleged Diaspora activity, but this would be inaccurate (since he did dispute there) and does not fit the sequence of nouns in the sentence (which are built up as rhetorical accumulation). It refers instead to debates in Jerusalem’s synagogues, which probably numbered many393 (cf. 26:11). His accusers did not even find Paul dialoguing or disputing (διαλεγόμενον) with anyone on this occasion, as would be common in schools of scribes, or debating with speakers in the temple (as Paul may have done on earlier occasions; contrast 9:29; the same term, διαλέγομαι, in 17:2, 17; 18:4, 19; 19:8–9; cf. 20:7, 9).394 Specification of temple and synagogues alongside the city may reflect the sort of elaboration expected in a narratio (see Hermog. Inv. 2.7.120–21).
Romans were accustomed to academicians’ debates, but they might show little tolerance if these debates ended up disturbing public order. Even had Paul been carrying on discussions in Jerusalem, this practice would not guarantee his guilt; advocates emphasized that simply engaging in an activity in which criminals also sometimes engaged did not make the activity itself criminal (Hermog. Issues 51.16–22; 52.1–4). But Paul can go beyond such a defense and argue that he was not debating in even the synagogues of the chief Jewish city, a place more vulnerable to Jewish unrest—a defense that would cast doubt on the claims of more distant unrest in places where Paul had been debating, claims that Tertullus would not be prepared to prove. By conjoining three locations (although separating the first syntactically and using the third in a different case) Paul’s summary leaves the rhetorical impression of covering everywhere.395
Paul’s controversial speech in the temple could not count against him, since it followed a riot already in process, was permitted by the tribune as an attempt to calm the crowd, and might have some witnesses who could testify that it was Paul’s pro-Gentile stance that triggered the riot’s resumption.396 Paul also had maneuvered the discussion in the Sanhedrin in such a way as to make his views about the resurrection, rather than anything political, the clear issue of debate.
Some interpreters view Acts 24:12 as the speech’s propositio,397 or statement of the case, and others view it as a summary of the proofs.398 It is feasible to view it as the former standing in for the latter in Luke’s précis. One would offer a preview of arguments (to be developed in the proofs section) in the statement of the case (πρόθεσις), helping the audience to follow (Dion. Hal. Lysias 17).399 In Acts 24:18, Paul returns to the central claim offered here.
II. THE DEMAND FOR PROOF (24:13)
Many speakers claimed to provide facts (see comment on Acts 24:9),400 but genuinely providing evidence was another matter. A speaker who lacked direct evidence might argue that the veracity of his claim could be inferred indirectly from the evidence.401
One might offer a strong claim with “many proofs” (Isaeus Aristarch. 6), though some thinkers felt that strong proofs mattered more than multiple ones (Mus. Ruf. 1, p. 32.5–17). Proofs could often be stated tersely, the appropriate tone for the logically argumentative section of a speech (Dion. Hal. Lysias 9).402 One should provide arguments against what is debatable but not against matters that are obviously wrong.403
Paul denies that his opponents can prove their claims against him. Such an insistence was standard in forensic rhetoric (and often true).404 One could complain that one’s opponent has ruined the opponent’s own case,405 or even explicitly accuse the opposing side of deception.406 Most commonly, however, one could demand proof. Classical orators provide an abundance of examples: Isaeus complains that his opponents keep offering accusations without proving anything (Cleon. 49). Someone accused of a crime can demand that his accusers demonstrate his guilt or convict him.407 Someone who makes a claim that violates logic can be challenged to explain it and be told that he cannot (Lysias Or. 4.5–6, §101). Apparent eloquence without arguments was simply verbosity (Pliny Ep. 5.20.4–5); one who resorts to depending solely on pathos rather than offering proof as much as admits one’s guilt (Lysias Or. 27.12–13, §178–79).408 A Hellenistic rhetorician explains that one must provide a demonstration and not simply assert what one cannot prove (Dion. Hal. Lit. Comp. 3).409
The claim that an opponent has not produced proof continued in Roman-period forensic rhetoric. On one occasion, Cicero charges that it is undignified for the prosecutor to attack his client on the basis of street gossip, “without proof” (Mur. 6.13). On another, the prosecution witness provided “no proof” and “brought no witnesses” (Cic. Flacc. 15.34).410 The charge is false, Cicero insists on yet another occasion, and the accuser’s attorney is “unable to prove” his case (Rosc. Amer. 29.79). In a second-century writer, a deity being punished by other deities demands proof of his guilt (Lucian Prom. 13, 19). Apuleius complains that his opponents have chosen a charge “easier to insinuate than to prove” (Apol. 2); they fail to support their allegation with proof, their case being “weak in facts but so strong in noise” (25). By such standards, he points out, anyone could be accused and almost any action become grounds for suspicion (54). A late second-century rhetorical writer explains that legal debate regularly includes a demand for evidence (Hermog. Issues 45.1–2). After that time, a writer could still present a defendant as winning his case by demanding that reliable witnesses be able to confirm the accusations against him (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 8.5). This form of defense was standard enough that Lucian could offer a mock defense of a tyrant, challenging the accuser’s competence on the basis of lack of direct knowledge (Phal. 2.6).
This claim of lack of proof was especially useful for the defense, since the burden of proof rested with the accuser and suspects had to be freed if there was reasonable doubt (Cic. Rosc. Amer. 23.64–65).411 A skillful rhetorician could seek to shift this burden,412 but he would have to do so before the defense began speaking, since the defense spoke after the prosecution.413 (Of course, if the prosecution offered much proof of the defendant’s guilt and the defendant offered no proof of innocence, he would be convicted, as in the case of Herod’s son Antipater.)414 At the least, Paul’s knowledge of standard rhetorical arguments would serve notice to Felix that he was no uneducated provincial easily dispensed with.