e. Admitting Piety (24:14)
In Acts 24:14 (and throughout 24:14–17), Paul “confesses” his Jewish piety, demonstrating that he is not the sort of person who would profane the temple. (Luke has elsewhere provided supporting evidence for this argument [e.g., 16:3; 18:18], though we could quickly draw the same conclusion even from several of Paul’s own letters.) Paul’s “confession” thereby paves the way for what he asserts is the real charge against him in 24:20–21.415 Paul thus shows this to be an internal religious argument among Jews.
I. THE ISSUE OF ĒTHOS IN 24:14–17
In 24:14–17, Paul reinforces his ēthos as a pious worshiper of Israel’s God, undermining, as already mentioned, the probability that he is the sort of person who would desecrate Israel’s temple.
Whereas Tertullus’s case argues that Paul is guilty of sedition and desecrating the temple, Paul points out the lack of evidence for his opponents’ position (24:11) and countercharges that their case is motivated by other issues. He shows that his only “crime” is a religious position well within the bounds of Jewish faith (24:14) and that his opponents themselves admitted in a different setting the religious character of the charge (24:20–21). The real issues here are religious, not political, and so Felix should dismiss the case.416
In 24:14–18, Paul also further establishes his ēthos, arguing that the deeds attributed to him are inconsistent with his demonstrated character. He has attempted this argument before, at 23:1 (see comment there; also at 24:11); for him (and for many others), a consistently pious life is the strongest argument. This strategy also answers the attempt to portray his character badly in 24:5. Establishing ēthos was important in a defense or prosecution;417 thus, after answering a charge with some documentary evidence, Lysias focuses on Mantitheus’s positive life (Or. 16 passim).418 Jurors indeed looked away from the accounts used to prosecute Metellus for extortion, because they “believed that they should read the proofs of upright administration” in his life, not in “a little wax and a few letters of the alphabet” (Val. Max. 2.10.1).419 Cicero dismisses a slander against himself by claiming that witnesses know better because they know his character (Verr. 2.1.6.17).420
Among examples of appeals to ēthos are claims that one is not the kind of person who would commit sacrilege (Lysias Or. 7.41, §112). Given his piety (Acts 24:14–18), would Paul have really desecrated the temple (24:6)?421 Some of Paul’s detractors have doubted his loyalty to the law, but Luke portrays him as loyal (16:3; 18:18; 21:26), and his own letters suggest that, however novel his interpretations appear to be, he viewed himself as faithful to his ancestral faith.422
The defense speeches in Acts 24–26 focus more on God the Father than on Jesus, in contrast to 22:3–21.423 Romans might misunderstand as misplaced loyalty that could lead to treason an emphasis on a human executed for claiming to be Israel’s king. By contrast, a national deity was for them a purely religious matter, worthy of respect and not Roman interference. Jesus appears more in Acts 26 than in Acts 24, since Paul can expect Agrippa to have more understanding of the issues.
In 24:14, Paul confesses (ὁμολογέω)424 his real “crime,” foreshadowing his conclusion that the real case against him is purely theological (24:20–21).425 Those who admitted guilt could either defend their honorable intention (purgatio) or simply beg pardon (deprecatio; Cic. Inv. 2.31.94).426 The guilty sometimes gained pardon by confessing (Phaedrus 3.epil. 22);427 under a wicked dictator, even the innocent might gain more mercy by confessing than by denying a crime of which they were accused (Pliny Ep. 4.11.4–13). One could sometimes be cleared of a worse charge by confessing a lighter one (Val. Max. 8.1.abs.12); one who was clearly guilty of a lesser offense had to confess it to gain credibility in denying other charges (Pliny Ep. 4.9.6–7). One who would not confess committing the crime might concede the alleged crime’s awfulness (Xen. Hell. 2.3.37).
Paul, however, tactically confesses what is not yet a crime under Roman law428 and therefore offers no grounds for his conviction; he confesses to merely holding a theological conviction that is the real basis for the accusations (Acts 24:20–21). Paul “serves” (λατρεύω; also 27:23) his ancestral deity (cf. Israel “serving” God in 26:7; cf. Luke 1:74; for “ancestral,” cf. Acts 22:3; 28:17; for Paul’s affirmations of his orthodoxy, see, e.g., 23:6; 26:22); Romans generally respected nations’ rights to practice their own ethnic, ancestral religions.429 Far from acting “against the law” (25:8), Paul depended on it (just as Luke argues that the entire Jesus movement does, e.g., Luke 24:44).
Confessing an “offense” that was inoffensive to the judges was a common rhetorical strategy.430 Thus Josephus divides his audience by first confessing that, according to its understanding, he is guilty (Life 139) and hence accepts even death if they think this penalty just (Life 141),431 but then “confessing” that the money was to help a city strongly represented in his audience (Life 142)—thereby securing the support of some of his audience (Life 143). This is an example of “confessing” what turned out to be in hearers’ interests, a particular form of the larger category of confessing noncrimes (see further examples under Acts 24:17). Other ancients also would admit what was not really a crime432 or was even a benefit (see comment on Acts 24:17).433
Rhetorical training included instruction that one should admit any charges not dangerous to one’s case (Aul. Gel. 12.12.1);434 one should reserve one’s credibility for where it was needed.435 The technical Greek and Latin terms for the technique are συγχώρησις and concessio, admitting an opposing claim while one shows that it does not damage one’s own case.436 Of course, this rhetorical strategy was common enough that rhetorically proficient hearers could point it out and challenge it: when Regulus apologized for an inoffensive offense, his rival Pliny raised the real issue of contention, putting Regulus on the defensive (Pliny Ep. 1.5.11–14).
An older handbook advised showing that the law supported what one confessed. For example, one could confess killing, but in self-defense, or claim that the law performed the killing, since the law orders such an act.437 A later handbook could likewise suggest the argument that the undisputed act was not a legally actionable offense.438 Paul is quick here to affirm that his confession does not contradict, but rather flows from, his allegiance to the law of his people (Acts 24:14).
What Paul calls the “Way” (see comment on Acts 9:2),439 his opponents have just called a “sect”—that is, one sect among several (24:5). Despite his opponents’ characterization of this “sect,” Paul emphasizes that he and his movement share central features common to mainstream Judaism (24:14–15).440 (If Ananias and others wished to deny the resurrection [24:15], Felix knew enough about Judean Judaism to recognize that it was in fact not Paul but Ananias’s faction, the Sadducees, that held the minority position.)
Forensic oratory often focused on definition and counterdefinition of offenses or other matters (see Hermog. Issues 59.17–60.8). By drawing attention to his opponents’ own characterization of his movement (which he considered the “Way,” not merely one sect among many), Paul prepares to show how their prejudice against his theological views colored their prosecution.
By speaking of “the God of our fathers,” Paul emphasizes his solidarity with his people’s faith (see comment on Acts 3:13). He affirms all that is in the law and the prophets (see comments on Acts 16:3; 18:18; 21:24–26), and so he has not taken even a step toward apostasy (and hence would not have desecrated the temple in Acts 24:6).441 Although Luke and Paul’s letters both support Paul’s claim here, rhetorical strategy provides the proximate cause for its mention at this point. Under other circumstances, an apostate might appeal to Rome to evade the enforcement of Jewish religious law; given the punishable charge of having desecrated the temple, however, emphasizing one’s Jewish piety would prove more effective. It is also more consistent with Paul in both Acts and Paul’s letters (cf., e.g., 2 Cor 11:24).
f. The Jewish Resurrection Hope (24:15)
Against accusations that Paul’s views are totally idiosyncratic and not truly part of Judaism, Paul points out that the Jesus movement shares the most fundamental Jewish beliefs (24:14). These include hope in the future resurrection—a doctrine fundamental to the movement’s understanding of Jesus, but a doctrine at which those who would balk are his Sadducean detractors (4:1–2), themselves the minority Palestinian position on this fundamental tenet of common Judaism.
Jewish sources often emphasized “hope in God” (e.g., Let. Aris. 261), and Palestinian sources associated such hope especially with the resurrection (2 Macc 7:14).442 Paul had employed this language at Acts 23:6 (and will allude to it again in 26:6–7; 28:20); see comment at Acts 23:6. From the start, Jesus’s mission had included the objective of Israel’s eschatological resurrection (Luke 2:34, ἀνάστασις).443
I. THE RESURRECTION AND PAUL’S ACCUSERS
Paul has been emphasizing that he and his accusers share faith in the same ancestral God and ancestral laws (Acts 24:14); now he points to their common faith in the resurrection.444 Emphasizing solidarity with accusers was a good strategy; one could show that the real issue behind the charge should not be controversial, and this approach sometimes allowed one to paint accusers as sharing the “offense” with which one was accused.445 (In this case, if Felix regards with disdain Paul’s affirmation of the resurrection, he would have to hold in the same disdain the shared affirmation of some members of the Sanhedrin.)446 An argument from probability also works well if the audience members will understand it because they share the same desires and objectives;447 would anyone who was pious really want to desecrate the temple?
Did Paul’s accusers, however, really share his faith in the resurrection or any form of eschatological hope? Luke has already informed us that the Sadducees, to whom the high priest Ananias (5:17; 24:1) belongs, do not affirm these views (Luke 20:27; Acts 4:1–2; 23:8). It is unlikely that all the elders whom Ananias brings (Acts 24:1) are Pharisees, the group that defended Paul a few days earlier (23:7–9); even if some of them are, would not others object to Paul’s depiction of his accusers as sharing this hope? Paul may refer to the fact that some of the Sanhedrin share his position, a point he will suggest more forcefully at 24:21. If this is the point of his allusion, he might allude to the fact that some of the very body now accusing him took his side in 23:9.
Even if few of Paul’s accusers share his position, however, the group’s public disavowal of the position would hurt their case more than his. (Paul does later imply this disavowal for them, 24:20–21.) As already noted, affirmation of the resurrection was likely the majority view in early Judean Judaism, and the aristocratic priesthood could hardly claim to accuse all its people of apostasy or sedition. Felix would likely know (cf. 24:10, 24) that the high priest held a minority position on this doctrine, on which Paul’s viewpoint was more representative. (Felix’s Jewish wife, a valuable source for his knowledge of Judaism, may not have affirmed an eschatological resurrection either but, like him, undoubtedly found Paul an articulate exponent of this position, 24:24–25.) Paul and the Nazarenes may hold minority, “sectarian” views on some issues; on others they are closer to mainstream Judean faith than are the Sadducees (whom Luke also calls a “sect,” 5:17). Paul’s view of who constituted the righteous and wicked at the resurrection might well differ from theirs,448 but any Gentile observer would view the essential doctrine as the same.
Paul also apparently expects the judgment to happen soon (μέλλω need not mean this [see BDAG], but it is the most common sense in Luke-Acts),449 which might sound subversive to the Romans were it not for how widespread the view was in early Palestinian Judaism; surely Felix would know the difference between passive eschatological expectations and activist revolutionaries.
Some denied even immortality, such as the Sadducees (see comment on Acts 23:8), but this view was more common in Judaism two centuries earlier450 than in this period; others, deeply influenced by Hellenism, affirmed immortality without the resurrection.451 The dominant view, however, was resurrection.452 Given the acceptance of Daniel as canonical by most Jews, denial of a future resurrection of some sort, for both the righteous and the wicked, could prove difficult to maintain (Dan 12:2).453
Paul’s expectation of a resurrection for judgment here may go further than many of his contemporaries. Some denied a resurrection for the wicked (2 Macc 7:14, unless it refers only to a resurrection “to life”). Some either restricted or only explicitly applied this resurrection promise to Israel or the saints454 whereas others applied it also to the unrighteous.455 Likewise, not all who affirmed a resurrection for judgment expected eternal torment to follow; the wicked could be resurrected to face the sentence of annihilation or tormented for a period of time before annihilation. In some views the wicked were not killed on the day of judgment or resurrected, but their souls remained in hell (1 En. 22:13).456 The day of judgment would contrast their coming torment with the coming bliss of the righteous (4 Ezra 7:36–38, 47), but the torment might be temporary, a burning that annihilates (perhaps 7:61). In another view, their resurrection bodies might be fitted especially for suffering torment (2 Bar. 51:1–2; cf. Mark 9:43, 45, 47–48; Matt 5:29–30; 18:8).
Like views regarding the resurrection, views on the (related) fate of the wicked varied. Josephus portrays the Pharisees as affirming eternal suffering for the wicked (Jos. War 2.163),457 but among later rabbis, specific views also varied.458 Many passages list various views side by side. Thus R. Akiba, followed by the majority school, denied that the flood generation would share in the coming world; another rabbi expected them to be neither raised nor judged; and another, that they would continue to suffer in Gehinnom after the righteous were raised (b. Sanh. 108a, bar.). Rabbi Ishmael (second century) denied a resurrection for at least some of the wicked; some other rabbis expected only a future day that would incinerate the wicked; the majority view argued for Gehinnom, but a substantial minority of named rabbis demurred (Gen. Rab. 26:6).
According to one common view, the wicked would suffer in Gehinnom for twelve months.459 Some believed that the worst sinners, such as Pharaoh, would face eternal torment (a third-century rabbi in Gen. Rab. 26:2). Thus a common combination of views was that most wrongdoers would be tormented for twelve months and then annihilated, but the especially wicked460 would endure eternal torment in Gehinnom (b. Roš Haš. 17a). Some insisted that the nations who persecuted Israel must be raised so that God could avenge Israel (Pesiq. Rab. 48:2).
Many Jewish sources affirm that Gehinnom was eternal for at least the worst sinners.461 But in the most common early Jewish view, most sinners endure hell only temporarily and are then destroyed462 or released;463 as suggested above, twelve months is a familiar duration.464 Early Christian sources tend toward the harsher image.465 A few samples illustrate that later rabbis lacked a single position on the subject. The wicked would walk in darkness in Gehinnom (Tg. Jon. on 1 Sam 2:9). Some doubted a Gehinnom for the future age, claiming that the sun would punish the wicked instead.466 Gentiles’ children, who had done neither righteous nor unrighteous deeds, would not be resurrected but would not be punished either.467
Luke apparently believes in torment for the wicked in the intermediate stage of the afterlife (Luke 16:23–24);468 he follows his sources in affirming a punishment that is apparently unending (“unquenchable” in 3:17; Q material shared with Matt 3:12),469 but does not focus on it. His primary emphases in preaching the resurrection of the wicked are Paul’s notably conservative Jewish orthodoxy and the moral demands of such a doctrine (Acts 24:25).470
Why would Paul emphasize not only his continuity with mainstream Judean Judaism but his orthodoxy according to stricter versions of the faith? Although early Christianity seems to have widely affirmed the resurrection of the damned,471 Paul’s extant letters (admittedly, occasional documents) speak of their eternal destruction without specifying (or, for that matter, disclaiming) the intermediate step of resurrection.472 The Paul of this passage has particular reason to emphasize a strict position with this audience, however. Identifying with a more orthodox position further emphasizes that Paul is a religious Jew, not the sort of person known to desecrate the Jerusalem temple. Those who believed in an afterlife were also normally thought more inclined toward positive moral behavior than those who doubted any future accounting for their deeds (see comments on Acts 17:18; 24:16). By means of ēthos, the burden of proof thus favors Paul’s righteousness (24:14, 20).
This emphasis on even the most rigorous (on one point) view of the resurrection also meets the accusers on the level of their claim to be religious spokesmen for their people. Regarding resurrection, Paul is closer to the dominant Judean view than are his Sadducean opponents; he is also more religiously conservative, not an apostate temple-defiler. Thus, for example, Plato’s famous apology for Socrates emphasizes that although Socrates is accused of disbelieving the gods, he in fact believes in them more than do any of his accusers (Apol. 35D). Luke also serves on Felix (and anyone who identifies with him) notice of views that he will hear from Paul in more detail later (Acts 24:25).473
g. Paul’s Blameless Conscience (24:16)
Paul claims here to exercise474 a blameless475 conscience before God and humans. In 24:14–15, Paul provides evidence that supports his claim to positive character in 24:16, a claim that basically repeats Paul’s affirmation to the Sanhedrin in 23:1 (see comment there). Paul was earlier interrupted in 23:2; Luke allows him to finish the argument here, and the allusion to the earlier passage invites the reader to consider the contrasting responses: whereas the high priest ordered Paul struck in contravention of the law (23:2), the Roman official does not hand him over to his accusers (though he also fails to release him).
Paul’s positive character in 24:14–18 will contrast starkly with the illegalities and deception that Paul implies (by innuendo)476 against his opponents in 24:19–21.477 Indeed, even accusing someone of known virtuous character can reflect badly on the accuser.478 Once convicted of terrible behavior, enemies ought not to be permitted to prosecute someone else (Aeschines Tim. 1–3).
Paul’s claim to strive to live blamelessly in Acts 24:16 rests directly (ἐν τούτῳ) on the resurrection hope in 24:15. Those who believed in an afterlife were normally thought more inclined toward positive moral behavior than those who doubted any future accounting for their deeds.479 Paul, who affirmed a resurrection of the unrighteous (ἀνάστασιν . . . ἀδίκων, 24:15) for damnation, was far less apt to commit unrighteousness (ἀδίκημα, 24:20; cf. 25:10–11) than those who did not so affirm (such as the Sadducees, 23:8; Luke 20:27).
Others could perceive Paul as a great sage (cf. Acts 26:24), but sages were honorable only if they lived according to what they taught.480 Character delineation was a common rhetorical device for making a case (e.g., Rhet. Her. 4.50.63). For example, one noble testified that he knew nothing of the defendant except that when they encountered each other on a narrow road, the man “refused to get off his horse.” The jurors considered this action so disrespectful that they inferred from it pervasively bad character and hence convicted him of the unrelated charges (Val. Max. 8.5.6). Portraying someone such as Socrates as a brothel keeper is an example of what legal theorists would call an implausible case (Hermog. Issues 33).
If Paul has genuinely sought to live with a clear conscience, an argument from this character trait would refute the prosecution’s implications of evil motives and character. Felix apparently recognizes that Paul’s character is sincere (more so than his own, Acts 24:25). On character, see further comments at Acts 23:1; 24:5, 11, 14–17 (this commentary divides the examples among these passages to prevent overly long sections). Referring to God as well as people in 24:16 is not precisely an oath (oaths were employed frequently in trials; see comment on Acts 23:12), but it accomplishes a similar purpose by implying God’s witness and implicitly invoking God’s punishment if Paul has misrepresented him. “God and people” was a common pairing (see comment on Acts 5:29).
If Paul here engages in a form of “boasting,” it is under the circumstances for which Greco-Roman rhetoric permitted it.481 Certainly a trial on a capital offense would have counted as grounds for being “compelled” to boast.482 Paul in his letters brings forth his religious credentials when he needs to do so (2 Cor 11:22–33; Phil 3:4–6), though his criteria for boasting differ from those of his challengers.
h. Alms and Offerings for Israel (24:17–18)
Paul’s being away “many years” may refer to six years (Acts 18:22)483 or simply to the fact that he had not lived in his home city of Jerusalem (22:3) for many years. Having arrived only twelve days earlier (24:11) after many years’ absence, he was certainly no rabble-rouser targeting Jerusalem.
Still establishing his ēthos, Paul emphasizes that he came to bring alms and sacrifices. “Alms for my people” (cf. 10:2) probably echoes the righteous deeds of Tobit in the LXX (Tob 1:3, 16). Coming to bring offerings484 presumably alludes to the offerings in Acts 21:26 (the only other use of the term προσφορά in Luke-Acts), perhaps funded by a portion of the collection from the Gentile churches. (The term’s one use in the undisputed epistles of Paul applies to his priestly offering regarding the Gentiles, in the context of the Gentile churches’ offerings.)485
Thus, Paul came for Jerusalem’s benefit, not to cause it trouble. A bringer of offerings would not violate a temple (24:6); similarly, one accused of inciting a riot would hardly be easily thought guilty if he had been a benefactor for the city486 (see comment on Acts 24:16). One possible rhetorical technique was the argument by contraries (Rhet. Her. 4.18.25); if Paul has come to serve his people and act piously, he ought not to be viewed as one who came to stir conflict. Failure to find any possible motives for a defendant’s alleged actions cast doubt on charges against him.487 Toward the end of a forensic speech, a speaker could remind the audience members that he had done kindnesses to them or to the very people who now seek the speaker’s hurt, hence inviting compassion (Rhet. Alex. 36, 1444b.35–1445a.12); and a speaker could discredit opponents by using the opposite method (1445a.12–26).488 Citing one’s virtuous deeds, one could protest that one expected to be rewarded, not placed on trial (Hermog. Inv. 1.3.105). Arguing that one’s opponents rewarded one’s benefaction with false accusations was meant to shame the accusers (e.g., Apul. Apol. 103).
Paul’s claim that he came as a benefactor is analogous to Peter’s claim that he and John were being tried for a benefaction done to an infirm beggar (Acts 4:9). This argument could prove effective rhetorically. For example, if a defendant was forced to admit (ὁμολογεῖν, as in 24:14) an offense, he should endeavor to demonstrate that the act in question was legal, just, or beneficial to the public (συμφέρον).489 One accused of acting against someone can claim in his defense that he acted on the victim’s own behalf.490 Even in classical rhetoric, a person could defend his actions by arguing that they had proved beneficial to the state (Xen. Hell. 5.11.32). One general reportedly invited his judges to punish him, provided they would publicly concede that he had been executed for acting for his country’s good.491
Other examples abound. A much later rhetorician presents an argument in which a person confesses to having done what his accusers claimed but argues that it was not illegal and was in his hearers’ interests (Libanius Declam. 44.57–59). Cicero, defending those who helped him in his hardship (Sest. 69.146), asks what crime Rome found in him when he protected the state (69.145). “And yet, if it is a crime to love one’s country,” he urges, “I have been punished enough for it,” since an enemy of the state pulled down his house and caused other hardships.492 Likewise here, should Paul be punished for the pious act of bringing alms to help his people (Acts 24:17)?493 Paul’s letters can employ this method of argument (2 Cor 12:13; Gal 4:16).
II. ALMS FOR THE JERUSALEM CHURCH (24:17)
Although the collection was specifically for, and distributed through, the church, it was indeed for (some of) the poor among Paul’s people.494 Only the wealthiest of benefactors (like the rulers of Adiabene)495 could have claimed to sponsor all the poor in a city, and food distribution was often for one’s own community first (see comment on Acts 6:1).
Certainly, even alms for the people as a whole would not contradict Luke’s theology (Luke 6:32–35). Although Luke presents Paul as a clever speaker, Paul’s love for his people is not feigned anywhere in Acts (see comments on Acts 18:18; 21:24–26). Likewise, the Paul of the letters expresses deep devotion to his people, in Rom 9:1–3 noting his continual sorrow and desire to sacrifice himself for his people.496 Although it is true that missionaries in the process of acculturation often react against their cultures of origin,497 eventually they typically integrate an appreciation for both cultures.498 By the period in which Paul wrote Romans (before his Roman custody, Rom 15:25), he was mature in his cross-cultural identity as an apostle to the Gentiles concerned for his own people (11:13–14). The Paul of the letters, like the Paul of Acts, expects judgment on his people as Jewish prophets did, but differences of perspective between Luke and Paul are matters of emphasis, not the former’s misrepresentation of the latter.
Luke’s reference, however, must be to Paul’s collection for the Jerusalem church, abundantly attested in his letters (see comment at Acts 20:4).499 Christians were to put aside resources on the first day of each week (1 Cor 16:1). Honorary inscriptions, like Paul’s instructions in 2 Cor 8–9, deliberately employ a variety of circumlocutions.500 See further discussion at Acts 11:30; 20:4.
III. WHY LUKE’S SILENCE ELSEWHERE?
Why does Luke refer to this collection only here? Given Luke’s abundant emphasis on caring for the poor,501 Paul’s reference to alms here is understandable; what is surprising is Luke’s total lack of explicit mention of the collection elsewhere.502 Perhaps one collection (Acts 11:29–30) was sufficient to make his point; Luke may expect us to infer more about this collection (alms for his people in Jerusalem) by analogy with the former one (a “ministry” for the siblings in Judea, 11:29). Both limited space and audience limitations could require a writer to maintain focus. If social ministry characterized early Christianity, Luke may not privilege one example above others and may have other points to emphasize on Paul’s final journey to Jerusalem.
Still, why is there almost total silence about a matter so central historically to the trip described in detail at points in Acts, especially when Luke clearly cares about the unity of the Diaspora and the Jerusalem churches?
Suggested reasons for Luke’s general silence fall into the following basic categories:503
1. Luke knew little about the collection and hence was not a companion of Paul. Yet his passing reference to the collection here (24:17) suggests that he knew more than he otherwise reports, and so this is the least plausible suggestion.504
2. Some embarrassment or other factors warranted Luke suppressing it. Proposals include the following:
a. The Jerusalem church rejected the offering, tainted by Gentiles. But Gal 2:9–10 appears to contradict this.
b. The collection symbolized reconciliation whereas Luke never mentions the need for reconciliation. But whereas Luke emphasizes unity (Acts 15:25), he also notes the need to achieve and renew it (15:5; 21:21–26).
c. The collection was never delivered. But 24:17 itself suggests otherwise.
d. The delegates delivered the offering, but it did not achieve reconciliation between the majority of the Jerusalem church and Paul’s Gentile mission. This proposal is plausible.
3. From the advantage of hindsight or the needs of his audience, the collection was less important than it had been for Paul. After Jerusalem’s destruction, the reconciling purpose of the offering was no longer relevant; Luke’s interest is in Paul’s arrest.
There may be a gradual continuum between “suppressing” an embarrassing idea and failing to report it because it was no longer of interest. That the collection no longer remained a matter of great interest more than a decade afterward may be safely assumed; that it was also a matter of embarrassment is possible, though one wonders whether, at this remove, Luke had reason to focus on it even if it was not embarrassing. If it failed to achieve the high hopes Paul had for it—which is entirely plausible in view of Luke’s report of the antagonism of some in the Jerusalem church (Acts 21:21; cf. Rom 15:25–27, 31)—it might not appear relevant. (Luke might have still chosen to report it as part of the hostile reaction to Paul in Jerusalem, but F. C. Baur totally aside, Luke had no reason to air the church’s past dirty laundry more than necessary.) Below are some of the specific suggestions (from along the range between suppression and lack of interest), several of which may constitute factors in Luke’s not recording the matter.
Some measure of “suppression” would be natural; it was appropriate compositional technique to pass over quickly whatever would displease one’s audience and to elaborate whatever would be useful to them (Theon Progymn. 5.52–56). Some scholars think that the collection was embraced enthusiastically by the Jerusalem church,505 but we lack sufficient evidence to support such an optimistic reading, given the social pressures the church faced (see comment on Acts 21:17–26). A failure of the offering in Macedonia or Achaia (cf. 2 Cor 8:11–12; 9:3–5) might have silenced Luke, but during Paul’s three months in Corinth, he attests that these churches are indeed participating (Rom 15:26); if there was a conflict with any church, the evidence points to the church in Jerusalem (15:31).
Some contend that the Jerusalem church failed to welcome, and perhaps even rejected, Paul’s collection.506 As already argued above,507 it is extremely unlikely that the collection was rejected out of hand; the Jerusalem “pillars” had commissioned it (Gal 2:10), even if only one of them remained in Jerusalem to accept it. It is possible, however, that it failed to achieve the full reconciliation Paul hoped for; Paul himself knew that this conclusion was possible (Rom 15:31).508
Historically, Paul intended his collection to signify a unity between Gentile churches and the Jerusalem church509 (Rom 15:27; as well, perhaps, as among all the participating churches).510 After 70 C.E., the Jerusalem church as such was no longer an issue; the voice of the mixed Diaspora churches was more dominant, and Jewish-Gentile reconciliation in the mixed churches had to progress by other means. Likewise, a great offering to a central location that would soon cease to exist might seem a shortsighted investment (although Paul would probably still have valued it himself for salvation-historical reasons).
Some scholars also suggest that Paul’s offering was too far beyond what the pillars envisioned for the Jerusalem church’s comfort, and that because too great a gift could overwhelm the beneficiary in the ancient reciprocity system, the Jerusalem church felt crushed under the weight of obligation.511 Had they felt this way momentarily, however, they could have found theological justification to feel otherwise—justification such as Paul himself offered to some Gentile Christians (Rom 15:27) and could have reiterated for the Jerusalem church, directly or through intermediaries, if necessary.512
Even if the Jerusalem church responded positively, Paul’s embarrassing detention soon afterward, the hostile environment toward Gentiles in the city, and the imminent war with Rome all undoubtedly prevented Paul’s offering from achieving permanent significance in the relations between the Jerusalem and Diaspora churches.
Luke’s overriding apologetic concern offers another reason for “suppressing” mention of the collection. Perhaps Luke is circumspect about the collection because of the role it plays in Paul’s defense here; some readers might find less compelling an offering “for his nation” if its specific recipients were limited to members of Paul’s own sect. A related suggestion (and probable factor) is that Luke mostly omits the collection because, to Romans, it may have seemed illegal or subversive.513 Romans were nervous enough about local associations; any movement spreading throughout their empire and raising funds without government approval could seem subversive. By contrast, Romans did not oppose mere alms for Jerusalem,514 although a century earlier even Asian Jews exporting gold for the Jerusalem temple could appear involved in a “barbaric superstition” (Cic. Flacc. 28.66–67).515
Still, Romans were happy enough to continue and reroute the temple tax to their own interests after Jerusalem’s fall.516 If any of Paul’s colleagues used the temple tax analogy to help justify their collection,517 Luke’s churches would certainly know better than to offer that analogy after 70 C.E.518 And if the Jerusalem church viewed the collection in light of biblical promises about an eschatological pilgrimage and/or eschatological gifts/tribute from the nations519 (although Paul does not employ these texts in describing the collection),520 it was thinking of the kingdom’s restoration to Israel (cf. Acts 1:6). Luke would have more sense than to let Paul strike this chord to the Roman governor.
If Luke writes after 70 C.E., as this commentary suggests, proposed factors explaining the irrelevance of Paul’s collection grow in importance. Some of these suggestions concern the Jerusalem church. Some scholars think that Luke says so little about the collection because he has little sympathy for the Jerusalem church, which so abused his hero, Paul.521 Against this suggestion is the impression of deep respect for the Jerusalem church that we gather from reading Acts 1–4 (and probably implied in 21:20, despite Luke’s disagreements).
A much more plausible suggestion is that Luke lacked interest in the Jerusalem church’s reception simply because there remained no “Jerusalem church” in Luke’s day.522 Those who associate the collection, in Paul’s theology, with God’s eschatological purpose for Jerusalem also believe that Luke lacked reason to emphasize the point after 70 C.E.523 But the collection may have become less important long before 70; Paul neglects it in his own later letters, including Philippians.524 If Paul did not emphasize the collection after its completion, Luke should hardly be faulted for analogous silence.
In the end, a variety of factors may be at play. If the Jerusalem church did not respond enthusiastically, if the collection could be misconstrued by Rome, and if many years had passed and the Jerusalem church no longer existed as such, Luke had every reason to mention the offering at most in passing. He might well have retained this one remaining reference, in 24:17, because of his concern for the poor (2:44–45; 11:29–30) and its value for the character element of Paul’s apologetic in this speech.
IV. APPREHENDED WHILE WORSHIPING (24:18)
That Paul was “purified” (see comments on Acts 21:24, 26) suggests that his real intentions in the temple were quite the opposite of desecrating it (against 24:6). Paul is refuting his opponents’ charges by demonstrating that he did, in fact, the opposite of what they charged: they accused him of profaning the temple (24:6), but he was making an offering there (21:26). If Paul’s hair was long or shaved because of a vow (18:18; 21:24–26), that they found him “purified in the temple” might be evident simply from looking at him, but we cannot be sure of this evidence, since the nature and completion (cf. 21:27) of the vow is unclear in these texts. In any case, a temple was a place of sanctuary, an inviolable refuge,525 yet Paul had been seized there.
Likewise, his “without crowd or tumult” refutes the charge of stirring unrest (against 24:5). Paul has been the victim of “tumult” (θόρυβος) twice in Luke’s narrative, in the Ephesus temple riot (20:1; cf. the “crowd” in 19:33–35) and (most relevant here) in the Jerusalem temple riot (21:34; cf. the “crowd” in the same verse);526 but Luke’s audience knows that he did not start the unrest in either instance.
If someone argued that Paul’s arrival, whatever his motives, precipitated the unrest, he could offer the standard response to such a charge: people could not be responsible for genuinely unforeseen consequences of their decisions.527 Pliny the Younger laments that, in practice, people often unfairly judge by outcomes rather than by intentions (Ep. 5.9.7); an advocate would be always ready, however, to point out the unfairness of such an evaluation. Likewise, if it is argued that Paul’s preaching precipitated hearers’ hostility, Paul could argue that there was no law against his preaching of religious ideas unrelated to sedition.528 But Paul had not been carrying on dialogues anyway (Acts 24:12).
Paul is about to imply who did start the riot; thus he begins the next clause (24:19a or, in some versions, the final line of 24:18) with the adversative function of the conjunction δέ: “Thus: ‘It was not I who stirred up the tumult, but rather some Jews from Asia.’”529 Classical Greek orators often retorted that accusers, being guilty themselves, ought not to bring charges. Paul follows a similar line of argument in 24:19.
i. Insinuating His Accusers’ Guilt (24:19)
Returning the charges was standard fare in ancient rhetoric; Paul, by contrast, more subtly insinuates his accusers’ guilt. They have illegally abandoned the case—which should require its dismissal—most likely because they have good reason to fear appearing in court themselves. No unrest surrounded Paul in Jerusalem (24:18)—until his accusers arrived (24:18–19). They were in fact thus prudent not to show themselves now.
Why does Paul start a sentence (“But [there were] certain Jews from Asia”) that he fails to finish, omitting a verb? Writers and speakers sometimes affected intense emotion by leaving sentences incomplete;530 this practice was expected at times in forensic speeches.531 This practice is consistent with the Paul we know from his letters; he does this in Galatians, which, as largely a letter of reproof, displays the heat of passion (Gal 2:2–4, 6; cf. 5:12).532 It is not difficult to reconstruct the implied but formally omitted words of the ellipsis.533
The incompleteness here probably suggests a forceful point, namely, that his original accusers are the very ones who started the riot (as Luke’s narrative claims, Acts 21:27–29, and Paul virtually claims later in 26:21). This would also explain, Paul implies, why they do not wish to be present for the hearing.534 Paul speaks obliquely (on reasons for this practice, see discussion below on “insinuating guilt”), yet even the phrasing, “certain [τινὲς] Jews from Asia,” can indicate that Paul intends to imply something with more forensic significance than a mere summary of events. From his experience in Asia, Paul probably knew those who had accused him (19:8–9; cf. 21:29), but “certain persons” was often the language of polemic.535 Although Luke’s audience would not know the names of these persons (excepting perhaps Alexander, if he was among them, 19:33), “non-naming” sometimes functioned as a polemical device.536
Rhetorical handbooks had long suggested that it was ideal to shift to one’s adversaries, whenever possible, the very charges of which one was accused.537 The handbooks simply reflected ancient practice; returning charges was good rhetoric.538 Thus one might concede that an offense was deathworthy, then explain that it was one’s accuser, and not oneself, who was guilty of such an offense.539 Sometimes a classical orator would express surprise at the audacity of an accuser charging a client with the very offense of which the accuser was guilty.540 The orator Aeschines, charged by Demosthenes with taking bribes, counters that Demosthenes is the real bribe taker (Aeschines Embassy 3; Ctes. 113, 156, 259) and that Demosthenes offers them as well (Ctes. 69).541 Having presented evidence, Aeschines questions “whether . . . it is [he] whom Demosthenes has accused, or whether on the contrary he has accused himself in [Aeschines’s] name.”542 When a man named Peithias was acquitted, he charged his accusers with a different offense and had them all convicted (Thucyd. 3.70.3–4). Although the prospect of returned accusations did not always deter frivolous prosecutions, those who entered litigation voluntarily often did so at their own peril.
Romans likewise would go on the offensive, attacking the character of those who charged their clients.543 If, for example, Sestius’s abusers now charge him with the violence they inflicted on him, they so charge him only “because he is alive. But that is not his fault.”544 Counterclaims could involve ēthos; thus, when Cicero prosecuted Verres, Verres tried to circulate a story that Cicero had taken a bribe to falsify his prosecution (Cic. Verr. 2.1.6.17). In Nero’s reign, when a false accuser denounced Seneca, the latter effectively returned the charge against his accuser (Tac. Ann. 14.65). The practice of returning charges also appears in Jewish Christian reports or interpretations of Judean debates (Matt 12:43–45; John 8:37–51).
Can Paul be returning the charges? If so, why does he not make this reversal explicit by finishing his sentence? He is probably employing an even more familiar rhetorical technique of insinuating guilt.545 Speakers sometimes even explicitly claimed to pass over a matter even as they instead summarized it or at least hinted at it; Paul is more subtle but may well point in the same direction.
As noted above (with reference to the grammar), Paul addresses the issue obliquely; rhetoricians sometimes found it more appealing to audiences to stop short (or pretend to do so) rather than recount all the crimes, in order to avoid sounding too hostile.546 This was especially the case if the defendants were relatives547 or if, as in this case, the opponents were members of one’s own people before a foreign judge (cf. Acts 28:19). Not mentioning one’s mistreatment could be counted honorable.548 Paul had nothing to lose: it was clear that someone had started the riot, and if it was not he, it was clear that it was his accusers. By not stating this more explicitly, he could avoid appearing vindictive while hinting enough to imply the truth.
Rhetoricians sometimes ostentatiously “passed over” a matter, pretending that it could not be discussed (the technique called praeteritio).549 They could also claim more directly to omit subjects, while mentioning them in passing.550 The technique also appears outside forensic rhetoric,551 and Paul himself uses the technique in his letters (Phlm 19; cf. 2 Cor 9:1).552 But it is especially well known in the rhetoric of the courts. Some classical orators claim that they could mention far more offenses than they do, thereby implying offenses that they do not need to recount.553
Cicero was happy to slander an accuser even as he claimed to avoid doing so, making frequent use of insinuation. Cicero sometimes did not denounce individuals by name, thus avoiding the impression of harshness while denouncing them by insinuation instead.554 Without directly accusing Piso of gaining his office unethically, Cicero insinuates his guilt: “But as to how each of us was elected I prefer to say nothing.”555 In many cases he even goes on to specify what he claims to merely insinuate (unlike some other orators). He assures one opponent, “[I have attacked only your tribunate,] for why question you about your misdeeds and shameful robberies [as governor] in Spain?”556
Likewise, Cicero comments that Clodia, who has charged his client, is sexually notorious: “of whom I will say no more than what is necessary” (Cael. 13.31).557 Cicero then charges her through much of his speech; at one point he implies her guilt for her husband’s earlier death, then claims that he must return to answering her charge, since he is tearful at that memory (24.60). He accuses another man of murdering his wife and then adding a crime that Cicero refuses to describe, in order to avoid undermining public morality by allowing that “the enormity of so great a crime has either existed in this state or has escaped punishment.”558 He further passes “over in silence” the defendant’s other private vices to focus on public ones (Cat. 1.6.14).559
Cicero has much to say against Verres that he must pass over quickly (Verr 2.2.1.1, 2), in the process indicating (without a doubt accurately) that the evidence he can present is only the tip of the iceberg. He poses a question that he claims at some length not to ask (at the end of the claim, mentioning in passing what this unasked question is; 2.5.5.11). He promises to skip various facts, all of which he mentions (including some to stir pathos; 2.5.8.20–21). He claims to say nothing, for the moment, of matters that he addresses elsewhere—then recounts them.560 He likewise claims to pass over Verres’s “minor” offenses (which he then recounts, such as specific items he plundered from sacred buildings; 2.4.59.131).561 Others were also happy to insinuate guilt; thus, for example, Apuleius notes that it was only his opponent raising an issue that forced Apuleius to expose “everyone’s tacit suspicions” about his opponent (Apol. 98).562
Paul at the least implies that the original accusers are lying. This was a common charge against malicious accusers,563 though Paul’s response is worded more delicately, not employing the expression.
The only genuine supposed witnesses were those who first claimed that Paul had brought a Gentile into the temple (Acts 21:27–28); the high priest and elders are of high status but are not genuine eyewitnesses. If they have brought forward a charge without being able to produce the original witnesses, they are ignoring the laws. In fact, Paul will argue, they are not the legitimate plaintiffs at all, and the original plaintiffs have abandoned the case.
Witnesses were important to trials; thus, in one long trial, after three days of speakers the court spent the fourth day examining witnesses (Pliny Ep. 4.9.15). Classical forensic speeches reveal that witnesses unwilling to testify could be compelled to do so (or to produce affidavits);564 their unwillingness could be cited as evidence that they had something to conceal.
Legal debate regularly included a demand for evidence (Hermog. Issues 45.1–2); if no witnesses are available, “the defendant will demand them” (45.21).565 Thus one might invite witnesses to come forward if indeed (the challenger mocks) there are any (Libanius Declam. 44.17).566 Had an opponent simply produced witnesses, one might complain, this would have left one defenseless (Lysias Or. 7.20, §110), but he has failed to do so (7.23, §110). Lack of witnesses was, not surprisingly, a frequent cause for denunciation.567 In one particularly unjust example of this kind of charge, refusal to hand over slaves for torture (the conventional means for securing slaves’ testimony)568 could also be construed as hiding something569 (one making this charge would not stop to take account of humanitarian considerations).
Those who lacked witnesses would also seek to turn this deficiency to their advantage.570 Cicero kindly spares his audience in one case the inconvenience of witnesses, he points out, because their words “can be so readily manipulated,” as opposed to solid arguments based on probability and facts (Cael. 9.22).571 The prosecutor who lacked witnesses would insist “that proof from facts is more trustworthy than that from witnesses: ‘For facts cannot be persuaded’” (Hermog. Issues 46.4–8).572 Because the very same orators used witnesses when it was to their advantage, however, ancient audiences, like their opponents, would not necessarily be convinced. Thus a speaker for the defense complains, “If he had produced witnesses, he would have expected you to believe them, but as he has none, he thinks that this also should count to my detriment.”573
The high priest may have avoided calling Asian Jews to appear because he by this point knew that they could not prove their charges under cross-examination.574 Testifying in a Roman court where they could be refuted under cross-examination was risky business. People heeded the testimony of honorable men, but if the case went against them, their testimony would be deemed false and they would lose their honor.575 Not only opponents who brought lawsuits but also their witnesses were subjected to slanders against their character to discredit them.576 Harsh treatment of those who brought frivolous lawsuits was frequent enough to serve as a deterrent in many cases.577 The emperor Augustus had thrown out old accusations and allowed them to be renewed, provided the accuser would face the penalty due the accused if the accuser lost the suit (Suet. Aug. 32.2);578 if such a rule were observed in Paul’s case, the penalty would have been death. Domitian punished Josephus’s Jewish accusers (Jos. Life 429).
Similar disincentives existed for testifying about earlier riots (cf. Acts 24:5). If Paul’s accusers had been able to bring forward witnesses claiming his involvement in the Ephesian riot (19:23–40; cf. 24:5),579 Paul could in principle580 counter with testimony that it was the synagogue leaders, not he, who were publicly shouted down by Artemis’s worshipers (19:33–34). More to the point, the value of testimony was weighed according to the status of those who offered it;581 if Paul’s supporters included Asiarchs (19:31) and members of their class (cf. 19:35, 37), his version of the riot would be held more acceptable. The Asiarchs might want Paul out of Ephesus and out of trouble, but once their previous connection with him was known, their reputation was better served by defending him (if they personally believed his case more defensible than not) than by joining his accusers. Whether or not it was likely that Paul would appeal to such witnesses, the simple possibility of the case causing more trouble to their own community in Ephesus was reason enough for Paul’s accusers from Ephesus to be unwilling to pursue the matter in a Roman court. Luke’s narrative thus makes good sense as it stands here.
If changing charges could raise suspicion, so could changing plaintiffs.582 That the original accusers from Asia are not present may be used to imply that they have something to hide.583 One who fled trial could be presumed guilty; one who stood trial could claim that he did so because he knew himself innocent (Aeschines Embassy 6). Thus one could mock the status of a defendant who has not appeared: “Has he come at last? If not yet come, is he, at all events, near? If not yet near, has he at least set out from Asia? If he has not yet set out . . .”584 The same principle could be applied to witnesses, who had less to lose (though also less incentive to participate).
More important, the original accusers’ nonappearance constitutes destitutio, abandoning the case, if they are the legally appropriate plaintiffs, as Paul here charges. (Unfortunately for Paul’s accusers, Paul was well educated and knew Roman law; he knew the privileges to which his Roman citizenship entitled him.) Under Roman law, the failure of plaintiffs to appear was a serious offense (Appian Bell. civ. 3.54); the recent emperor, Claudius, had proposed deciding such cases against plaintiffs, and in 61 C.E. (perhaps a year after Paul’s trial), the proposed laws passed.585 About a half century after Paul’s hearing, some of those who had brought charges pleaded with the emperor that their coplaintiffs be forced to appear with them or that they be released from the case (Pliny Ep. 6.31.10); the emperor ordered all to appear and make their case, explain why they were dropping it, or be declared guilty of bringing false charges (6.31.12). Even classical Athens had added penalties for frivolous prosecutors who dropped cases after initiating them or whose cases proved too weak to persuade even a fifth of the jury.586 When a province wished to drop its charge against a former governor, it sent a separate delegation to do so (7.6.1–6).
One could not convict an absent party unless the latter’s absence was deliberate, and deciding capital cases against an absent defendant was illegal (Paulus Sent. 5.5.9; Dig. 48.19.5.pr.). Judges could punish unexcused absences as contumacia,587 making impossible any appeal of sentence, though this specific term applied only to defendants in this era (probably introduced under Claudius; applied to plaintiffs only under Justinian).588 We know of serious cases delayed because of the defendant’s absence;589 naturally, such a situation is not pertinent here, since Paul has no choice but to be present.
More relevant here is that the accuser’s absence can stop the judicial process (Justin. Cod. 9.2.4).590 In legal absentia, the court would sometimes dismiss the case or judge in favor of the defendant by default (Dig. 5.1.71).591 At the very least, a person’s absence could dispose the judge against him, sometimes (though not ideally) even if the person’s absence was beyond his control.592 When accusers did not appear, the recent emperor, Claudius, sometimes decided the case against them in their absence (Suet. Claud. 15; Dio Cass. 60.28.6).593
Lysias consulted the Sanhedrin only to discover the nature of the charges (Acts 23:28–29) and perhaps instructed its members to accuse Paul (23:30). But they lack witnesses, and they did not initiate the charges that led to the Sanhedrin meeting that had functioned as a preliminary hearing. They themselves could attest only Paul’s theological position (24:20–21). Procedural matters were important, and one important method in judicial rhetoric was to challenge whether a case “should be allowed to come to trial” (Hermog. Issues 42.5–7).594 Paul’s objection is sound and should result in the dismissal of the case; that it does not suggests the political weight of his current opponents’ status.
j. The Theological Charge (24:20–21)
Concluding words could include a final summation;595 if Paul offered such a summation, Luke may omit it because his report of the speech is already a concise summary, or it may be implied in his denial of genuine wrongdoing (ἀδίκημα, Acts 24:20; cf. denial of the cognate verb ἀδικέω in the summary of 25:10–11).
Concluding words sometimes also included a final blow so decisive that it virtually closed the case as well as the speech (or the proofs section).596 Thus, in one speech, after Cicero has consistently lowered expectations by comparing his own speaking ability unfavorably vis-à-vis that of his opponents,597 he concludes his proofs by noting that the entire case turns on whether his client could have made a seven-hundred-mile trip in two to three days; since this was impossible, his case is irrefutable (Quinct. 25.78–80). Once the discussion was framed in such terms, it was difficult to dispute; Cicero knew when he had a compelling argument.598
In the same way, Paul reserves his ultimate argument for the end: his opponents already showed their hand in the preliminary hearing, and now they want to change their charges to provide a case more suitable for the governor.599 As already noted, changing charges during a trial was highly suspect behavior.600 Paul challenges his accusers to demonstrate that they had offered any other charge in the preliminary hearing except the theological one.601 He appeals to his accusers’ own knowledge602 of the only matter of dispute in the hearing, recognizing that they could not deny their public behavior (especially given Lysias’s presence and testimony; cf. Acts 23:29).603
The original accusers have abandoned the case (24:19), and the only charge that the new accusers can support is a theological one—namely, Paul’s view of the resurrection (on which he happens to hold the majority Jewish opinion).604 What is more, the official document submitted by the governor’s own representative attests as much (23:29). If the real basis for the charge is theological, Paul is suffering for his faith in Christ. His own letters, incidentally, also articulate this understanding of his custody (Phil 1:13).
The initial hearing before the Sanhedrin provided a precedent that in turn influences the case here.605 The reader knows that this outcome of the preliminary hearing was a result of Paul’s cleverness and anticipation of subsequent hearings (just as his partial vindication in Philippi may have been won, on one reading, by his calculated silence about his Roman citizenship during a flogging; see comments on Acts 16:22, 37). Many narratives portrayed a protagonist’s cleverness (e.g., that of Odysseus or Solomon) as a virtue. But clever rhetoric aside, the reader also knows that Paul is innocent of all the charges leveled against him.
By shifting the discussion from political to theological grounds for the accusations, Paul suggests that his accusers act disingenuously and that it is not Paul’s behavior but their hostility that has produced the current conflict. Defendants commonly raised the concern of malicious accusers;606 it was prudent to examine the motives of others, not just the one on trial (Hermog. Issues 47.1–6).607 Cicero thus sought to put the motives of his client’s accusers in a bad light (e.g., Rosc. Amer. 2.6).608 Even a later historian could doubt an earlier source’s information if it could be held to stem from malice.609 Rhetoricians also sought to make their client “appear more fair-minded than his opponent,” thereby securing goodwill; the impression that opponents have wronged the client generates sympathy for him.610
As noted above, one could transfer the accusers’ charges back to the accusers and imply or even state that they were liars (see comment on Acts 24:19). Paul refrains from calling his high-status opponents liars, but if he is telling the truth, they are not, and the light he sheds on their motives suggests that their deception is deliberate. And Felix would have had enough experience with Ananias and his colleagues to know better than to assume that truth constituted their primary motivation.
4. Felix’s Procrastination (24:22–27)
From Luke’s portrayal of the case, Paul clearly has the upper legal hand: despite Tertullus’s rhetoric, Paul has all the legal evidence in his favor. Even a governor with more integrity than Felix, however, would have serious political considerations in such a case—so serious, in fact, that had Paul not been a Roman citizen (see comment on Acts 16:37), he surely would have been handed over.
Moreover, Felix was hardly known as a paragon of integrity. Thus, Luke points out, Paul’s imprisonment results not only from false accusations but also from political inertia in a notoriously difficult province. (Lest we suppose that the accumulation of delays reveals Luke to be guilty of special pleading,611 such miscarriages of justice were frequent in the provinces, and Paul did survive for a surprising length of time under the circumstances.)
a. Felix Acts from Knowledge (24:22)
Felix’s knowledge of Paul’s movement helps explain why he adjourns the case for the moment instead of handing Paul over to his politically influential adversaries. (Neither Paul nor his accusers have mentioned Jesus,612 but “Nazarenes” in Acts 24:5 would have alerted Felix to this connection.) Felix had a “more accurate” understanding of “the Way,” perhaps meaning “more accurate than Paul’s accusers expected.”613 Felix could know about “the Way” from his Jewish wife, Drusilla (24:24),614 but his role as administrator would bring the Nazarenes to his attention more directly. Many in Jerusalem belonged to the Jesus movement (21:20), as did some in Caesarea (8:40; 21:8–9, 16), probably including some of his own auxiliaries stationed there (10:1–7, 24).
Felix’s knowledge about the Way is meant to explain his reaction to Paul’s claim that the basis of the opposition was the doctrine of the resurrection (24:21); the governor already knew from Lysias that it was an intra-Jewish religious debate (23:29) and from Paul’s accusers that he belonged to the minority sect of Nazarenes (24:5). Felix knew enough about the Way to recognize that, contrary to its characterization by its enemies (such as Paul’s accusers), it was not a political threat to the province’s stability.615
It also helps Luke’s apologetic for Luke to explain that Felix acts out of political rather than juridical considerations: Felix realizes that Paul is attacked on religious, not legal, grounds, but he wants to offend neither a minority sect of significant size (21:20) nor, more important, the leading priests. It was politically indiscreet to offend the local elite “merely to do justice to a single person.”616
The previous Roman governor’s conflict with the current high priest and his allies (see comment on Acts 23:2) led to the banishment of that governor (Jos. War 2.245–46) and to Felix’s becoming the current governor (2.247). Felix did not now need unnecessary trouble. Later a Jewish delegation from Caesarea accused him before Nero, and only his brother Pallas’s intervention spared him punishment (Ant. 20.182). Further, it was possible to cooperate with the current high priest, Ananias, who was notably pro-Roman (see comment on Acts 23:2); offending an important local ally over a trivial case was imprudent.
At the same time, Felix was no friend of the Jerusalem aristocracy. Josephus claims that he funded the assassination of Ananias’s colleague in the high priesthood, Jonathan, because the latter gave him too much meddlesome advice (Ant. 20.162–63). Even if Josephus’s information is untrue (if it could be substantiated beyond mere gossip, it should have been raised at Felix’s misconduct hearing in Rome in 20.182), it suggests an appearance of conflict between them.
Further, he has some political incentive not to convict Paul, entirely aside from the likely perception of his innocence. If Paul is genuinely a leader in an influential sect (Acts 24:5), then he has a “political” constituency that it would be better not to politicize or provoke against Roman authority. Because Paul is a Roman citizen, complaints on his behalf to Rome could perhaps obtain a hearing or at least contribute to any dossier eventually assembled against Felix. Although Felix committed atrocities (cf. Jos. Ant. 20.177, 182; War 2.270) and was ready to discipline even respectable people (e.g., Jos. Life 13), he apparently preferred to have pretexts even in circumstances in which Josephus (admittedly no fan of Felix’s) claims that his violence was premeditated (War 2.319, 325).
Some Roman governors familiar with early Christians also recognized that Christians thrived, instead of buckling under, when their leaders were martyred; in the second century a governor in this region allegedly released a prominent Christian without even scourging him, to prevent creating a martyr.617 It appears that Paul’s eloquent and informed defense has earned Felix’s respect (Acts 24:24–25), and Felix probably does not wish to harm this fellow Roman; but Luke hardly views Felix’s politically driven distortion of justice in a positive light (24:26–27).618
The term ἀναβάλλω (a NT hapax legomenon), when used in legal contexts (the only sense relevant here), means “adjourn”;619 such adjourned trials could be picked up at later sessions (Livy 43.2.6, 10). The term for “deciding” the case here, διαγινώσκω, is the same as at Acts 23:15, where it probably means “investigate”; both meanings (see BDAG) probably connote careful consideration. The “you” is plural, involving the plaintiffs as well as the defendant, but the plural simply specifies that Felix will decide the case in favor of one side; it does not imply that he will punish faulty accusers.620 From the Roman standpoint, Lysias is the only independent witness of significant rank;621 he would certainly come if Felix summoned him, but Felix offers no timetable for the summons, which he could easily have provided.
Like other Roman governors of Judea, Felix apparently kept many in prison; Albinus later freed prisoners of earlier procurators (Jos. War 2.273; cf. Ant. 20.215).622 It would be evident to all parties that Felix was stalling. He earlier promised to decide the case once the accusers came (Acts 23:35); from the standpoint of Ananias, this has been done, and from the standpoint of Paul (24:19), it will never be done. Moreover, Felix has now sufficient evidence to throw the case out of court; Paul’s accusers thus can hardly complain too loudly if Felix, though reluctant to convict, nevertheless fails to release the object of their concern.
At any rate, adjourning a case without a verdict was within his juridical authority, and the litigants could not do anything about it.623 Roman officials generally left to local courts minor matters irrelevant to public order, but a governor’s imperium (the authority of the state vested in him)624 allowed him freedom to decide cases extra ordinem; outside Italy and the colonies, Roman law did not automatically apply. This was the governor’s power of coercitio.625 Some governors abused this freedom (Cic. Verr. 2.3.3.6), but deferring a case would not run much risk of later political consequences in Rome.626
Paul is not such a major issue for the chief priests (despite Luke’s focus) that they are willing to fight the governor over the delay; they will try again with the next governor (Acts 25:2) but will not pursue the matter to Rome, where, given the records of the case, they probably have no chance of winning (28:21). Once Paul was in Rome, Rome would not accept these Judean leaders’ complaints about Paul as threatening unrest, the primary potent political charge available; nor would the pro-Jewish sentiment of Poppaea Sabina, Nero’s possibly involuntary mistress,627 necessarily help Judean leaders against the equally Judean, but culturally savvy and articulate, apostle. If Nero’s court later condemns Paul, it will have to be for other reasons.
Some scholars are skeptical that many “good” officials in Acts would keep exonerating Christians as innocent; where then did the persecutions come from, they ask?628 But Luke’s apologetic focus makes him selective, not wrong; further, his portrayal is not as one-sided as his critics suggest. Paul’s letters to Corinth (where Acts depicts Gallio’s refusal to hear a case against him) show that Corinthian believers did not face regular persecution; indeed, some even went to pagan courts for justice (1 Cor 6:1–8). By contrast, Paul’s letters to Philippi and Thessalonica (where Acts depicts Paul facing conflict) reveal harsher conflict. Paul’s letters do not address the current passage, but it is noteworthy that Felix does not exonerate Paul; he merely defers the problem for his successor (Acts 24:27).
We should not read the Roman administrator’s willingness to retain Paul in custody as if he doubted Lysias’s claims (23:27–30); had he found the case for Paul’s innocence demonstrably ambiguous, he would likely have handed him over to Jerusalem’s municipal assembly for punishment.629
Felix’s generous treatment of the prisoner630 probably implies for Luke’s audience what the rest of the narrative’s direction does: that Felix recognizes Paul’s innocence though, for political reasons, he dares not simply acquit him.
Given the lack of compelling evidence against him that would warrant harsher custody, it seems most likely that Paul continued in the praetorium.631 The likely site of this palace was about four hundred meters from the inner harbor and close to the theater and the amphitheater.632 The palace was large enough to hold a number of prisoners, and Paul could be conveniently “sent for and dismissed” from that location (24:24–26).633 Certainly, given the known hostility against Paul (esp. 23:30) and the embarrassment that losing a Roman citizen in custody would cause the administration, Felix needed to keep him in a secure place.
Places of confinement varied in severity, usually according to the prisoner’s status or the nature of the crime alleged.634 That Paul should be allowed some ἄνεσις indicates that his custody is limited; when applied to detention, the term indicates a degree of freedom and the relaxing of custodial arrangements (see BDAG). This arrangement may suggest that Felix believed Paul to be innocent; if we may accept either the substance of the forensic speeches or the testimony of 24:24–25 (or, more likely, both), he surely did believe him innocent. Paul’s was not, however, the lightest form of custody; yet it was better for Paul’s safety, and Felix, like Lysias, does not take chances on being embarrassed. Staying in a citizen’s house or renting one’s own quarters (28:16), the sort of custody to which ἄνεσις sometimes applied (Jos. Ant. 18.235), would be too risky given the threats against him.
Even light custody could be difficult if the keeper was harsh;635 in Caesarea, military guards would be auxiliaries, especially recruited from the local Syrian population, which was at odds with local Jews.636 But Paul’s keepers would undoubtedly keep in mind the governor’s apparent favor (Acts 24:24–25), and Felix specifically appointed a centurion, who would have already proved himself and might have career concerns.637 The keepers would not need to observe or sanction all Paul’s activities when his visitors came;638 regardless of activities, Paul would not be able to escape or be harmed. In contrast to Lysias, the governor had imperium to hold a Roman citizen in chains; even the freest forms of military custody included chains (cf. 26:29).639
As already noted, custody in a private house would be risky, given the threats against Paul. Some scholars point to the rising ethnic tensions in Caesarea, where Jews constituted half the city (see comments on Acts 10:1; 21:8).640 The center of Paul’s opposition is clearly Jerusalem, and it is not clear that despite the ethnic tensions, Caesarean Jews, whose contacts with Gentiles were more abundant than those of Jerusalemites, would see Paul as an enemy for preaching to Gentiles.641 But radicals could easily enough journey from Jerusalem, and they could also circulate reports against Paul that would probably allow them to radicalize and recruit at least some assassins if Paul were known to be kept in a vulnerable location.
Those who view Acts as purely novelistic think the portrayal of Paul’s custody too light. They note that in a later, largely fictitious work, Apollonius of Tyana found a good biographer (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 7.16), conversed with people of status (7.17–33), and enjoyed “a kind of relaxed custody after initial interrogation (7.40).”642 The chief jailer was ordered to supply Apollonius’s wants, though Apollonius observes that he has few of them.643 One may also note that after Domitian acquitted Apollonius, he wanted to question him privately (cf. Acts 24:24), but then (in contrast to Paul in Acts) Apollonius vanished (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 8.5). (And one may note that not all of Apollonius’s final custody was spent in lighter custody [7.34].)
This approach, however, casts the net for parallels too narrowly, since even novelists often constructed scenes that reflected legal realities. Thus, for example, Vespasian gave a captive (Josephus) expensive gifts even while the latter remained in custody, out of spiritual respect (Jos. War 3.408). Moreover, if either writer influenced the other, Luke indisputably wrote earlier than Philostratus; the latter, unlike Luke, also wrote in the primary heyday of novels.644 For various reasons, Luke’s portrait here is much more plausible than his detractors allow.
First, as noted above, Luke’s perspective fits legal realities and is entirely plausible. A ruler who acted for political reasons rather than certainty of a defendant’s guilt might, for example, give him an unusually light banishment (cf., e.g., the case of Otho’s treatment of Dolabella, Tac. Hist. 1.88; Plut. Otho 5.1).645 Second, as will be noted below, the access of friends to provide for him was not an unusual arrangement, although the governor’s specifically ordering it would probably eliminate corrupt guards from profiting from it. Third, we should not exaggerate the ease of his arrangements; they could have been better.646 Finally, we also know from Paul’s own undisputed correspondence that even at what was probably a later stage in his custody, Paul had access to and influence with members of Caesar’s household (Phil 4:22),647 probably members of the Praetorian Guard (1:13).648 At that time Paul also received gifts from outside without anything being confiscated (4:14, 18).
Access to prisoners was not unusual, though had Felix not mandated it, it would have been at the discretion of the guards (who sometimes required bribes).649 A Roman audience would consider a governor cruel if he denied a man imprisoned without trial visits from his aged father or young son (Cic. Verr. 2.5.8.21). Greek custom expected that women relatives, including wives, sisters, mothers, and others, could visit a man in prison.650 A superior could arrange for a well-to-do prisoner’s freedpersons and friends to have access to him (Jos. Ant. 18.202).
Although access was not unusual, Felix’s command to allow support was important. Without such instructions, guards could prove harsh even to those who brought help to prisoners, sometimes confiscating, for personal gain or mockery, part of what the visitors brought.651 In one story, a man had to beg a jailer to admit him to visit the prison and then shared his clothes with his close friend;652 after this, he used some of his own earnings to gain the keeper’s favor, and the rest to provide for his friend, also sleeping in front of the prison.653 Later, however, a prisoner’s death led to a lockdown, which made entrance difficult.654 Once guards were manacled to some prisoners, the prisoner’s associates might need the guard’s permission to converse with him.655 See also comment on Acts 23:16.
Someone must have provided for Paul, unless we should think of friends willing to endure the voyage to Rome with him (Acts 27:2) who nevertheless abandoned him to severe deprivation in detention. The purpose of prison rations was to prevent a captive from starving in custody, not to sustain health.656 Such rations could also be withheld to punish or even kill657 (although this would not happen to Paul given Felix’s favorable instructions). Prisoners were responsible for securing their own resources,658 but friends from the outside were able to supply food or drink.659 As Brian Rapske points out, “Far from being an exceptional privilege as many would argue, such a provision relieved the prison system of responsibility for Paul’s ongoing physical maintenance and care and could even be considered the usual arrangement.”660
Some scholars suggest that Paul’s supporters might be his sister and nephew in Jerusalem,661 but this would demand a difficult commuting distance if practiced regularly. More likely, we should think of Christians present in Caesarea, among whom Paul had friends who knew his innocence (21:8–9, 16; cf. 21:11–14). Helpers might want to visit a prisoner out of affection or as the prisoner’s servant; out of political solidarity; or out of philosophic or religious solidarity.662 Early Christians often sought access to prisoners to help them (Phil 2:25; 4:18; 2 Tim 4:13; Heb 13:3; Matt 25:36).663 Despite ethnic tensions in Caesarea, most Christians there would not have problems with Paul’s Gentile mission, given the history of the church there (cf. Acts 8:40; 10:1).
Certainly Paul’s associates, such as the narrator and Aristarchus (27:2), would be among those who would visit him. Presumably, they would lodge with Christians in Caesarea; some probably worked a trade while there to help pay for long-term accommodations after the trial failed to be resolved quickly.664 This would have given Luke more opportunity to interview Philip (see comment on Acts 21:8) and might help account for the repeated importance of Caesarea in Luke’s account (though, apart from Jerusalem, it would naturally feature as Judea’s most important city to Gentiles who knew the coast best).
Still, Paul’s friends must have exercised some measure of courage. It was sometimes dangerous to be close to a prisoner;665 sometimes one’s supporters dwindled in the face of potential danger (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 4.37).666 Even if visitors could be certain that Paul was the accusers’ only target, chains were a matter of humiliation, sometimes deterring association with the prisoner (2 Tim 1:8, 16). Any kind of imprisonment bore associations with shame.667 (In some cases, however, people visited famous prisoners just to see what they looked like or to assuage their jealousy with the captive’s hardship.)668
What was Paul doing while in detention (besides occasionally preaching to Felix, Acts 24:24–26)? Ancient literature provides a range of possibilities, although only some seem relevant to what we know of Paul. Prisoners could engage in various activities; those attested include playing games,669 reading, or conversing.670 They also were known to pray, sing (cf. 16:25), and fast671 and to write to,672 or speak with,673 others about philosophic or religious matters. We have letters from Paul’s detention, possibly from Caesarea but more likely (in my view) from Rome—namely, Philippians, Philemon, probably Colossians, and (in my possibly minority view) probably also Ephesians. But Paul was probably also using visitors to disseminate his views.
It may have been because Paul stayed active that he remained a target of Jerusalem leaders’ accusations (25:1–3) after “two years” (24:27; in practice this could mean less than two but more than one; see comment there). He could appear influential in Caesarea’s Christian community, given his past experience with the city (9:30; 18:22) and his relationship with Philip (21:8), who had evangelized Gentiles (8:26–40) and settled there (8:40; 21:8).674 Socrates, Apollonius, R. Akiba, and later Christian martyrs all applied themselves to teaching while in prison;675 Paul may well have done the same for local visitors.
c. Educating Felix about the Faith (24:24)
The delay allows Paul to speak further with the governor in a different venue, continuing to fulfill Luke 21:12–15.676 A private venue with a person of rank was normally reserved for people of status and importance,677 and so these meetings augment Luke’s portrayal of Paul’s status in the narrative.678 Nevertheless, a ruler might well be interested in hearing from a famous sage (see comment below).
When one sent for an apparently innocent prisoner for a private interview, in ideal justice it would be to confirm the prisoner’s innocence and to free him (e.g., Xen. Eph. Anthia 4.4, with gifts). Given the rampant corruption of provincial officials, however (see comment on Acts 24:26), it was sometimes for the official’s benefit,679 with no intention of freeing the captive (cf. Mark 6:20). It was a crime to try and condemn someone in a dining room rather than a public hall (Sen. E. Controv. 9.2.4),680 but corrupt governors were known to have prisoners marched even into their house (Cic. Verr. 2.3.23.56; cf. Luke 22:54).
Felix may desire to become further informed about “the Way” (Acts 24:22) for political reasons. Beyond this motive, Felix, even more than Lysias (21:37), has heard Paul and recognized that he is not merely a Roman citizen but an educated person, a sage more educated, indeed, than either Lysias or Felix. (He would be valued especially as a moralist, but his rhetorical skills matched Tertullus’s in forensic rhetoric, and Paul might be his superior in deliberative rhetoric.)
Such teachers could be used as dinner entertainment at banquets for educated guests,681 and Felix might count listening to Paul a leisure activity682—so long as the discourse remained at an intellectual rather than a moral level (24:25). It is possible that Drusilla views Paul similarly or (fitting a parallel with John the Baptist that Luke omits) as a prophet. In any case, Felix is no Sergius Paulus (13:12), though he expresses more interest than Gallio did (18:14–16).
Luke may mention Felix’s Jewish wife partly to emphasize that the governor does know enough about Judaism to understand that Paul’s message is within the range of Jewish beliefs (24:22).683 That Luke explains her identity as Felix’s wife (cf. 5:1, 7; 18:2) and points out that she is Jewish suggests that he does not expect most of his audience to already know who she is.
Still, it is tempting to suppose that some members of Luke’s ideal audience may know of the circumstances of her marriage to Felix;684 certainly, this assumption fits Felix’s response in 24:25. Judean refugees and those educated in the affairs of the eastern Mediterranean might know the story of Felix’s marriage to Drusilla. Felix’s marriages were widely known among those who knew anything of Felix (this might be a minority of Luke’s audience even if we date Acts early, but clearly some accounts of the Judean royal family were widely known).685 Moreover, it would take only some members of the audience to inform others of what it might be indiscreet for Luke to report about Paul’s judge explicitly. Josephus provides the story in the greatest detail, but Suetonius (Claud. 28) notes that Felix married three queens,686 and Tacitus (Hist. 5.9) names Drusilla as a princess.687 Roman custom viewed negatively governors’ sexual interest in locals, especially those already married to Rome’s subjects.688 Luke, who lived in Judea, undoubtedly knew of it, but one wonders why he leaves it unmentioned if it is of interest for his narrative (it is possible that it was not). Perhaps further discrediting the couple689 might have weakened his apologetic (Luke presents this governor as more interested than Gallio or any governor since Sergius Paulus, after all),690 or perhaps mentioning it explicitly might have courted trouble.691
Agrippa I (see comment on Acts 12:1) had two sons (of whom only Agrippa II survived childhood) and three daughters, Berenice, Mariamne, and the youngest, Drusilla (Jos. Ant. 18.132). Drusilla was born in about 38 C.E.692 and hence may be about twenty here;693 Agrippa named her after the favorite sister of his patron, Gaius Caligula.694 She was six when her father died (19.354), and if Felix took office in 52, Drusilla was only about fourteen years old at his accession.695 She was betrothed to Epiphanes, son of Antiochus, king of Commagene; but he broke his promise to her father to convert to Judaism (i.e., be circumcised), and so the betrothal was dissolved. When she was about age fifteen (in 53), her brother, Agrippa II, married her to Azizus, king of Emesa in Syria, who did take the step of circumcision to marry her (20.138–39).696
Despite his sacrifice, however, the union was quickly dissolved (20.141) because of Felix. Roman policy disapproved of governors marrying women from provinces under their jurisdiction,697 but Felix for the moment held special favor, especially through his brother, in the imperial court. Drusilla was noted for extraordinary beauty, and Felix sent a Jewish Cypriot magician to persuade her to leave her husband and marry Felix instead (20.142). Thus Josephus remarks that she broke the law of her ancestors and married Felix; they named their son Agrippa (20.143). Perhaps meaning to underscore God’s disfavor for their adultery and her abandoning the circumcised king for a Roman who never adopted Judaism, Josephus emphasizes that their son later died at the eruption of Mount Vesuvius (20.144).698
Felix’s recall must have been traumatic to Drusilla (especially if she saw marriage to a Roman official as advantageous); sometimes the wife of an indicted governor could be suspected of complicity in his crimes,699 though it would be highly unlikely in her case, and Pallas did manage to save her husband.
It is interesting that Felix listens to Paul as Antipas listened to John in earlier gospel tradition (Mark 6:20) and that both Felix and Antipas stole the wives of others (Herodian women in both cases).700 Since Luke omits that section of Mark (and does not mention Felix’s immorality), it is not likely that he intends a parallel, unless he simply forgot that he failed to include it. (Josephus confirms the immorality of both, and for him it is part of the larger saga of immorality in much of the Herodian royal family.) Although Felix listens to Paul as Antipas listened to John, Drusilla is not like Herodias here (6:19) or even like youthful Salome (6:22–25). If anything, her role resembles that of her sister Berenice with Agrippa in Acts 25:23; 26:30.701 Just as Paul seeks to evangelize the couple, Luke (who probably did know the notorious account from his contemporary sojourn in Judea) welcomes everyone (e.g., Luke 5:8–10, 20, 30–32; 7:39–50; 15:1–2).
d. Fearing Ethical Admonition (24:25)
Paul here continues his role as a sage intelligible to Gentiles (see comment on Acts 19:9; cf. 17:22–31; 26:24); Felix’s fear reinforces the portrait of his unethical conduct in keeping Paul prisoner.
I. REASONS FOR PAUL’S OPPORTUNITY
Remembering Jesus’s commission to use detention as an opportunity to evangelize leaders, Paul appears unrelenting in his attempts to convert Felix. Although Luke’s narration of this point would honor Paul among Luke’s Christian hearers, it would not win Paul favor with Roman officials.702 Not everyone in Rome appreciated Jewish attempts to convert Romans; Nero’s mistress from 58 C.E., Poppaea Sabina, was pro-Jewish, but this scene may depict events too early for that consideration to help Paul historically.703 Historically, it is not impossible that Felix’s wife, Drusilla, despite her having broken Jewish law and having married a Gentile, might have welcomed the influence of a Jew on her husband. It was not every Jewish sage in Caesarea who knew Greco-Roman moral and rhetorical discourse well enough to attract Felix’s attention to traditional Jewish matters. Other entertainments were available in Caesarea,704 but speakers provided entertainment at some banquets;705 one may compare how Antipas treated John the Baptist (Mark 6:20).706 What may have begun as intellectual stimulation for Felix (Acts 24:24), however, appears to have touched on his own personal life too uncomfortably.
Although Paul had learned how to use the Roman system well, Luke emphasizes that Paul did not compromise his message to secure favor. In the early empire, an era often criticized (at least by its second-century successors) for sycophancy, being unintimidated would be viewed as honorable (albeit also dangerous), characteristic of “frank speech” (see comment on Acts 4:13). Although wealthy people liked to dabble in philosophy and listen to sages, many Stoic and all Cynic sages warned against watering down their message to accommodate materialistic tastes. Felix might feel uncomfortable with Paul’s moral pronouncements, but Felix had access to a cultural category that rendered them intelligible. Someone like Demetrius the Cynic would have provoked Felix more, and we need not think that Felix would treat Paul more harshly because of his preaching (provided it is not public knowledge).707 So long as it remained a matter of purely objective, academic interest and did not touch on his own life, he could enjoy listening. He simply did not want to think about what Paul was saying.708
Although Paul converts neither the Roman administrators nor the king before whom he testifies in these chapters (cf. 9:15), he gains practice for his final testimony before Caesar’s court (27:24).709 Although Paul’s moral formation is mainly Jewish and biblical, Luke’s summary of Paul’s moral exhortation here coheres well with Paul’s letters in illustrating how effectively he learned to couch his message in the language of moralists and moral philosophers.710
II. JUSTICE, SELF-CONTROL, AND JUDGMENT
As is clear in 24:25, preaching “faith in Jesus” (24:24) is shorthand for an apostolic message that when fleshed out also implies the one true God’s standards and moral transformation (cf. 2:38; 20:21; 26:18). Of the three moral terms here, modern readers are most familiar with “righteousness” (as the term is usually translated into English in Paul’s letters, although the Greek sense employed here is probably closer to “justice”).711 Although rhetoricians and philosophers often lectured on “justice,” it is easy enough historically to see why the topic would disturb Felix.
The term ἐγκράτεια712 (and its cognates, which in this case share the same semantic domain) is more difficult for modern readers but was in common use for self-control—that is, restraint of passions or emotions (especially the “baser” ones). It appears in Xenophon, noting that God gave both genders equally the authority to practice self-control (Oec. 7.27) and praising a general who restrains physical pleasures thereby (Hell. 4.8.22).713 The classical orator Isocrates calls for self-control so that the soul will not be ruled by “gain, temper, pleasure, and pain” (Demon. 21).714 Orators included this virtue in their arsenal of potential elements for epideictic speeches.715
The usage among philosophers is especially striking.716 Xenophon reports that Socrates taught his friends to maintain such self-control in eating, drinking, intercourse, sleep, and enduring cold, heat, and work (Mem. 2.1.1). Pythagoras is said to have tested prospective disciples regarding self-control, especially of the tongue (Iambl. V.P. 17.72). Stoic philosophers also urged self-control of the tongue, belly, and sexual activity (Mus. Ruf. 16, p. 104.18–21);717 for them it involved knowledge that kept one’s behavior “in accord with correct reasoning.”718 Even Epicureans praised self-control (temperantia), though only because it produced peace of soul (Cic. Fin. 1.14.47). In philosophic literature this virtue of ἐγκράτεια is closely related to and overlaps substantially with σωφροσύνη,719—that is, rational moderation, temperance, or sound judgment (see discussion of this virtue at Acts 26:25). Because in sexual contexts the term can have sexual connotations, some scholars associate this exhortation with what we know of Felix and Drusilla.720
Like “justice” and “judgment,” however, ἐγκράτεια was also important for how rulers or other leaders should conduct themselves;721 indeed, a ruler ought to have more ἐγκράτεια than anyone else.722 Such self-restraint regarding pleasures and merriment was particularly praiseworthy in a provincial governor (Men. Rhet. 2.10, 416.19). Although Paul would not likely make the connection explicit, this virtue might be particularly relevant to the sort of ruler who abused power by holding clearly innocent prisoners and summoning them periodically for personal entertainment.723
Felix, who sits as Paul’s (corrupt) judge, now hears that he himself must answer to a greater judge.724 Paul was “judged” by the Sanhedrin (24:21), and Felix presumed to decide the case (24:22), but ultimate judgment belongs to God (24:25). (On such ironic, inverted expectations for judgment in some ancient literature, see comment on Acts 7:55–56.) The judgment725 is imminent,726 which undoubtedly increases its fearfulness727 for Felix. Gentiles also had traditions about matters being made right in the afterlife,728 although some doubted that the gods acted in vengeance or punishment.729 But the resurrection that Paul has been preaching (Acts 24:15, 21) and eternal judgment were certainly part of early Christianity’s Jewish legacy (Heb 6:2), and Luke, presumably, expects us to infer that Paul’s preaching of imminent judgment resembles what it means elsewhere in Luke-Acts: the risen Jesus is the judge (Acts 10:42; 17:31; cf. 7:35); he will pour out his fiery wrath (Luke 3:7, 9, 16–17); and even the religious elite will face his sentence (20:47).730
As should be clear to Felix in Acts 24:25 if not before, Paul clearly does have ethics grounded in Christ (24:24), verifying his claim in 24:14–16; Felix, by contrast, does not have the same ethical commitments (see comments on Acts 24:24, 26–27). In his letters, too, Paul could lecture on morality and judgment (Rom 1:18; 2:6–11), including for Gentiles (2:14–16; 1 Thess 1:9–10). Δικαιοσύνη (“righteousness” or “justice”; the latter sense would be especially appropriate for a governor) is a pervasive term in Pauline literature (more than fifty times, about 84 percent of them in the undisputed letters). He mentions ἐγκράτεια, or self-restraint, as a fruit of the Spirit (Gal 5:23) and uses cognates in 1 Cor 7:9 (for sexual self-control, relevant to what we know of Felix from Josephus) and 9:25 (cf. Titus 1:8); the term in Acts 24:25 for judgment (κρίμα) is used by Paul for divine judgment, especially in the eschatological time, in Rom 2:2–3; 3:8; 5:16; Gal 5:10.731
Those who have heard of Felix might well know that he “practised every kind of cruelty and lust” (Tac. Hist. 5.9)732 and be familiar with the lurid tale of his seduction of Drusilla later reported by Josephus.733 Many commentators think that Luke presumes this knowledge here;734 whether or not he presumes it for all or (more likely) some of his readers, it was nevertheless known historically to the parties he reports here. Historically, we know that some believed that Felix also resented being given advice on how to conduct the affairs of the state. Perhaps he would tolerate it from an impractical moralist in his custody,735 but he allegedly hired someone to kill Jonathan the high priest (Jos. Ant. 20.163–64) for giving too much meddlesome advice (20.162). In Luke’s own narrative, one of Felix’s explicit vices becomes obvious in Acts 24:26: greed and corruption.736
Felix tells Paul in 24:25 that he will have to wait for further consideration, as he delays dealing further with the leaders in 24:22; he acts in character with the persona that the narrative has already portrayed for him.737 He does call for Paul, but not to free him. Governors could become so busy (see comment on Acts 18:15) that, at one point, many letters from the office of Asia’s governor were written by others until one governor at least had his freedman read through them to weight them for equity before sending them out (Cic. Quint. fratr. 1.2.3.8).738
With sufficient staff, governors might enjoy more leisure in most provinces, away from the bustle of daily politics in Rome (Sen. Y. Nat. Q. 4A.pref. 1). But governors normally had small staffs; Rome kept its bureaucracy to a minimum,739 and presumably, if a governor wanted additional staff, he had to be able to afford them himself. A ruler might put people off by sending them away and telling them that when the appropriate time comes, he will send for them.740 He might in fact have no intention of sending for them741 but simply use this promise as a more polite way of refusing them. One might also postpone a case as long as needed if its obvious outcome is not to one’s preference.742
Although Felix apparently prevents Paul’s guards from taking unfair economic advantage of his situation (Acts 24:23), he is not above hoping743 to profit from it himself. This interest does not negate the less base interest already mentioned in 24:24–25 but is additional to it.744 Under some circumstances, a person awaiting trial might be allowed to go free on bail until the case is called, and be held in the interim only if lacking sufficient funds to post bond.745 But Paul cannot safely leave custody in any case (23:30),746 and Luke’s description of the desire for bribery is clear enough. Perhaps Felix is aware that the “alms” mentioned in 24:17 are substantial and assumes that the movement that provided them can also provide the bribe.
I. VIEWS OF BRIBERY AND CORRUPTION
Luke’s portrayal of Felix here, though not wholly negative in the context, is not designed to commend him to the audience’s sympathies.747 Greek vocabulary uses many neutral terms for bribery (e.g., “persuade by gifts”),748 but bribery became a very damaging charge in a forensic context. It is prominent in Attic orators because proof of bribery was essential to sustaining a charge of treason.749 Despite the pervasiveness of bribery, Greek and Roman sources regularly portray bribes (by which they may have meant the more abusive examples of receiving gifts) as negative.750 Judges who take bribes cannot weigh truth, Horace complains (Sat. 2.2.8). The gods cannot be bribed, Socrates allegedly opined, even by sacrifices.751
Romans were certain that other nations had worse practitioners of bribery than they had; during the republic, some were appalled that the Egyptian king used bribery openly to counter the Romans (Cic. Fam. 1.1.1); both Carthaginians (Polyb. 6.56.1–4) and Greeks (6.56.13–15) were supposed far more corrupt and addicted to bribes than gods-fearing Romans.752 But even in the republic, many bought their offices by bribery,753 including the governor’s office.754 Some protected others from legal charges, hoping in return to secure a province (which they could then exploit financially; Cic. Sest. 8.18). Even regarding voting, Cicero laments “the open bribery of the people tribe by tribe before the elections” (Att. 4.19).755 Romans deplored the outright buying of votes, although cultivating favor through gifts had become widely accepted.756 Finally Augustus decreed that anyone who bribed another to achieve office should be excluded from public office for five years (Dio Cass. 54.16.1); the senate and the emperor further limited campaign expenditures on gifts and dinners a century later (Pliny Ep. 6.19.1, 4).
Bribery occurred in many settings,757 but the exercise of bribery and corruption was perhaps nowhere so rampant as in the judicial system.758 Some bribed others to induce them make false accusations,759 or to corrupt their perspectives as members of the jury760 or judges.761 In some periods of antiquity, the innocent had to pay bribes to spare their lives;762 on other occasions the guilty either secured763 or attempted to secure764 acquittal through bribing jurors. Shameful leaders might release prisoners if they were given sufficient bribes.765 As in Paul’s case, matters could be delayed over money; one praetor kept guilty captives in prison to secure their money, promising to consider their case when he had time (Plut. Caes. 2.4).766
Such behavior was not legal; it was simply that those who did it discreetly (or sometimes openly) more often than not avoided the consequences. The lex Iulia de pecuniis repetundis made it illegal to take bribes from prisoners.767 Political reforms included Pompey’s law against bribery in 52 B.C.E. (Appian Bell. civ. 2.3.23); prosecutions for bribery occurred (2.4.24). Bribery was a crime against the Roman state768 and was to be punished.769
Punishments against bribery were sometimes harsh. A moralizing tale about the Persian ruler Cambyses claimed that he had a corrupt judge flayed alive and the man’s skin pulled over the chair on which the judge’s son would sit when judging cases (Val. Max. 6.3.ext. 3). Bribery was a punishable offense in classical Athenian law (e.g., Lysias Or. 21 passim);770 prosecutors could ask for the death sentence against it.771 During the republic, Roman law also apparently decreed death as the penalty for it (Polyb. 6.56.1–4). Some laws were, however, honored more in the breach than in the observance.
Governors were not supposed to make themselves rich at provincials’ expense (Catull. Carm. 10.7–13), but the practice nevertheless continued in the empire.772 Provincials provided governors with many gifts and protection from charges of misadministration; from a different perspective, these could be viewed as bribes.773 Technically, Roman law prohibited governors from accepting such gifts, although it was such a common practice that it could rarely be punished harshly.774 Within the Roman context, though the worst abuses had to be checked, bribes probably did not bear the harsh negative connotations we think of today. Unsalaried officials may have viewed the payment of reasonable fees as both income and a logical way to reduce excess “demands on their time.”775 Nevertheless, serious abuses apparently abounded, and sometimes governors had to be indicted for receiving bribes776 (see comment on trials of governors at Acts 24:27).
Even aside from the disproportionate benefits of government to the rich, abuses were endemic in such a system.777 During Paul’s lifetime, a freedman of Caligula became wealthy by taking bribes (Jos. Ant. 19.65). Closer in time to this hearing, the Syrians of Caesarea are said to have induced Caesar—by bribing Nero’s tutor Burrhus with much money—to annul long-held Jewish citizen privileges in Caesarea (20.183). A few decades after Felix’s Judean office, a proconsul was exploiting the wealthy province of Asia (Tac. Agr. 6), simply following a pattern already established centuries earlier.
The ancient precedents for governors’ corruption were numerous. In 171 B.C.E., the senate had to set right the extortion of money by Roman officials in Spain (Livy 43.2.1–12). In the late republic, Cicero’s predecessor had ruined the province of Cilicia before Cicero came (Cic. Att. 6.1), extracting poll taxes so ruthlessly that people had to sell property to pay it (5.16). A later writer also testifies that Cicero fought the corruption of the earlier administration, making restitution for what was embezzled (Plut. Cic. 36.4). Cicero can describe figuratively an official’s exploitations as robberies (rapinas, Phil. 2.25.62).
Cicero’s denunciations of Verres provide a stark (if occasionally hyperbolic) portrait of how dangerous a governor’s corruption could be. Verres acted “like a pirate” in exploiting a city, and like a plague in exploiting the province of Sicily (Cic. Verr. 1.1.2); he had ruined Sicily’s prosperity, and it would take many just governors to restore it (1.4.12). He levied unjust fines through violent intimidation (2.3.22.55) and had some people flogged so hard that they handed over their property to have their lives spared (2.3.28.69); allegedly, he even made parents purchase the right of burying their executed children (2.1.3.7). His corruption invited the flourishing of unjust accusations (2.2.38.94). He provoked Rome’s allies unfairly to satisfy his lusts (2.1.27.70). He granted illegal favors for bribes (2.5.20.51).
Writers warned against engaging in corruption. Dio insisted that statesmen should not be corrupted by accepting bribes (Dio Chrys. Or. 22.5). Socrates rebuked those granting acquittals in return for bribes (34.10). Impartiality remained the ideal,778 though it was often ignored.
Such warnings applied to governors, among others. Cicero advises a governor in Asia not to let his underlings take bribes (Quint. fratr. 1.1.4.13).779 Some tax collectors were greedy, but a governor who was not greedy himself could restrain them (1.1.2.7). A later novelist complained that Greeks were often happy even if the Roman governors merely would not “sell justice,” but this was like praising someone for not stealing (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 3.25).
Governors who resisted corruption were praiseworthy.780 Plutarch praises Cicero because he refused to profit from the people (Cic. 8.1), refused gifts, and governed at his own expense (36.2; cf. Neh 5:14–19). By living thriftily, Lucilius, as governor of Sicily, managed to resist bribes and similar temptations (Sen. Y. Nat. Q. 4.pref. 18). Tacitus praises his father-in-law, a provincial administrator, for avoiding corruption and for rooting out the previous administration’s corruption (Agr. 19).781 Epideictic speeches to governors celebrated their incorruptibility in justice, including their rejection of bribes.782
III. CORRUPT GOVERNORS OF JUDEA
Some corruption certainly occurred in “backwater” provinces such as Judea. As Rapske notes, “Distance from the imperial capital also encouraged the abuse of power.”783 Josephus accused Felix’s predecessor Cumanus of having accepted bribes to avoid punishing the Samaritans (Jos. Ant. 20.118–19);784 Judeans then accused Cumanus of being corrupted by Samaritans’ gifts (20.127). Josephus thought that Felix bribed a high priest’s friend to murder him (20.163). Felix’s successor, Festus, appears to have been fairly just (see comment on Acts 24:27), but he was quickly succeeded by corrupt Albinus. Josephus accuses Albinus of practicing every form of wickedness (War 2.272), including taking bribes: receiving “ransoms” from relatives, he freed robbers imprisoned by local councils or earlier officials, retaining only those who could not pay (2.273; Ant. 20.215). The aristocratic priest Ananias hoarded money and deployed it to secure friendship with both Albinus and the current high priest (Ant. 20.205).
Albinus’s successor, however, was even worse (Jos. War 2.277; Ant. 20.253–54), driving many to leave Judea (War 2.279; Ant. 20.256). Gessius Florus, who, through his wife’s friendship with Nero’s mistress, later obtained the province of Judea in 64 C.E.,785 allegedly despoiled entire cities (War 2.278), robbed the temple treasury (2.293–95), and plundered homes in Jerusalem (2.305). His abuse of power helped fan the Judean resistance into flame (War 2.293, 296; Ant. 18.25) and provoke the Judean war (War 2.282–83; Ant. 20.257).786 Most relevant here, he allegedly cared about nothing except receiving bribes (War 2.287). That Felix, though less rapacious than his successors, was also eager to take advantage of bribes is not only plausible but probable.787 Luke’s audience ideally might also think of the corruption of another governor who betrayed the innocent to satisfy other people’s favor (Luke 23:24–25).
From a Jewish perspective, such behavior was unconscionable, a perversion of divine justice.788 God rejects bribes789 and commands his judges and servants to reject bribes lest they pervert justice.790 God will curse those who accept bribes to do injustice (Deut 27:25; Sir 40:12–13), but bless those who refrain (Ps 15:5; Prov 15:27; Isa 33:15).791 Josephus claims that his colleagues succumbed to bribery (Life 73) but that he himself did not (Life 79), though some were bribed to oppose him (Life 196).792 He even claims that God’s law requires that any judge who takes bribes be executed (Ag. Ap. 2.207), a view shared with some other Judean pietists (11QT LI, 16–18). Some later rabbis announced that corrupt judges would not share in the world to come.793 Nevertheless, we do hear of Jewish judges accepting bribery.794 A later rabbinic account complains repeatedly that the Roman government does nothing without payment, that is, bribes (Eccl. Rab. 11:1, §1).
Small bribes would not interest Felix, and any anticipated bribe would need to be considerable to make it worth his political risk. He must assume that Paul is a person of substantial means795 or at least has the social network to raise them. Paul has come to Jerusalem with considerable funds for alms for his people (Acts 24:17); he is also a leader in a large movement (24:5).796 In fact, even if he were penniless, Felix would reason, surely other Nazarenes could raise funds for him; if the Jerusalem church is unable or unwilling to help, Paul’s associates can recruit money from Diaspora churches.797
Would they raise money, however, for a bribe? It appears to be not lack of funds but conviction that prevents the payments.798 Happily, though Felix may want money to free Paul, his reasons for not handing him over to his accusers are not exclusively pecuniary (the high priest surely could have afforded more inducements than Paul could have).
Paul’s noncompliance with the expectation of a bribe appears courageous. It would also stir sentiments of justice on his behalf, whether in a Roman court799 or among the ideal Greek audience of Luke’s finished work. It would normally be indiscreet to challenge the corruption of a governor (who held more credibility with Rome than did Paul), but after Felix’s humiliating recall, Luke’s credibility might be the greater for challenging him (especially with those who knew anything about Felix). On discovering a person’s innocence, a good governor would free the person and possibly even reward him or her.800
f. From Felix to Festus (24:27)
Our other historical sources confirm that Festus replaced Felix as governor of Judea and that Festus was a less corrupt administrator. Given the circumstances under which history shows that Felix was recalled, it made sense for Felix to provide Felix’s accusers with any political favors possible without also risking other causes of accusation against himself (such as handing over an unconvicted Roman citizen for execution).
If Felix releases Paul, he will not help his own political situation vis-à-vis Felix’s accusers; if he hands Paul over to Paul’s enemies, Paul’s allies might offer incriminating evidence that he handed over an innocent Roman citizen. Although Paul may be personally innocent of stirring riots, his enemies’ likely reaction to his release would serve as a catalyst for instability, perhaps proving unsafe to Paul and, even more likely, to public order. To leave the matter to his successor is the safest choice politically for Felix.
When Nero decided to send Porcius Festus as Felix’s successor,801 Felix’s accounting came due for the enemies he had made. He had so alienated the Jewish community in Caesarea, where he had openly sided with the Syrians against the Jews, that its leaders traveled to Rome to charge Felix before Nero.802 He was spared only by the intercession of Pallas, who still held Nero’s favor (Jos. Ant. 20.182).803
Luke himself recalls this practice of sending delegations to oppose choices for local leadership (Luke 19:14), although he does not waste words on the events of Felix’s recall. Even in classical Athens, the conduct and accounts of a person leaving office would be carefully examined.804 Roman law also permitted the conviction of former provincial governors in the interests of the empire, although such prosecutions were more often than not unsuccessful.805 When Judean leaders accused Felix’s predecessor, Cumanus, the emperor found him guilty and banished him (Jos. Ant. 20.136).806 Josephus even claims that Florus (a Judean governor several years after Felix’s recall) provoked the Judeans to war so that he would not have to answer their charges against him after his governorship ended (Jos. War 2.283).807 About half a century after Felix’s recall, Pliny’s letters attest many trials of former governors accused by their provinces, trials in which Pliny often either defended or prosecuted governors.808
Given the pending accusations, Felix had good reason to do the Jerusalem authorities “a favor” just before his departure (Acts 24:27).809 Favors invited reciprocation; to be ungrateful was to dishonor the obligation that one incurred by receiving a favor.810 Felix could not conceivably offer sufficient favors to compensate for the damages he had done, but at this point it would be worth offering what he could, especially if his brother Pallas no longer held office (see discussion below). The extrabiblical evidence thus is consistent with Luke’s portrait of Felix’s concern here.
Even before this situation, however, Felix has left Paul in detention, and afterward Festus also will seek to do the authorities “a favor” (25:9; cf. 25:3). Both must consider the political dangers of denying the Sanhedrin’s leaders what they want, and would have much bigger concerns than Paul to fight for.811 Roman justice was not always consistent and was as much to set an example for public morality as to render justice to individuals. Individuals could be sacrificed to maintain public order.812 Judicial corruption was also rampant, as noted in the comment on Acts 24:26 (and Luke’s audience would, in view of 24:26, view this act as judicial corruption). Further, it was customary to take into account the relative social rank of both plaintiff and defendant (see comment on Acts 24:1). Paul was not the only Jewish Roman citizen; indeed, some Jewish aristocrats were equestrians (Jos. War 2.306–8).
Scholars debate in what year the transition from Felix to Festus occurred, a debate informed by various opinions on other aspects of the narrative’s dating. Despite the interest the discussion generates, we should keep in mind that the divergence between the earliest and the latest standard datings is no more than five years (much less significant, for example, than many chronological questions that OT scholars face). The majority of scholars date Felix’s recall to 59813 or 60814 C.E.; many, however, prefer about 55 or 56.815
Some argue that Felix could have been helped by Pallas only before Pallas’s fall in 55 C.E.: “If Felix were recalled in early spring of 55, Pallas would just have had time to protect him.”816 Although Pallas lost his administrative position in 55 (Tac. Ann. 13.14), however, he retained power and influence. In 56, Pallas still indicated his wishes to servants and freedmen with only gestures lest he dishonor his voice by using it with those of lower status. When indicted in that year, he not only was proved innocent; the prosecutor was banished for his political ineptitude (13.23). When Nero finally allegedly poisoned Pallas in 62, it was hardly because Pallas had lost his estates; it was rumored that he died for having retained his wealth too long by living into old age (14.65). The fall of Pallas in 55 cannot, therefore, be used to date Felix’s recall before 55.817
Those who support a date for the transition around 59 or 60 C.E. point out that in 64 Josephus was still trying to free priests arrested by Felix (Jos. Life 13–16); this situation would make more sense if Felix remained procurator until 59 rather than 55.818 The disappearance of Paul from history about 55 also makes little sense of early Christian tradition connecting Paul’s execution in Rome with Nero’s persecution, which began after the fire in 64.819 Further, Josephus’s report of Festus’s tenure is much briefer than that concerning Felix or Festus’s successors, suggesting to some that Festus’s tenure itself, intervening between Felix’s “many years” (Acts 24:10) and the crimes of Albinus and Florus before the war, was brief.820 These are, however, arguments based on probability and relative chronology, and they would have to give way in the face of secure evidence for redating the transition.821
The numismatic evidence is more problematic. Coins mentioning Felix do not appear past 54/55 C.E. Others reply that a large number of new coins from 58/59 suggests a new procurator at that time, and hence they date the transition from Felix to Festus there;822 we do not seem to have clear evidence of a new procurator before that time. Some have cited microletters on one coin, however, as appearing to place Festus’s accession in 56, which fits the evidence of Eusebius’s Chronicle exactly.823 (It could also count in favor of Paul’s release after the two years of 28:30 and might allow more time for the journeys presupposed in the Pastorals, though this could be at most a subsidiary argument; those journeys are workable even with the later chronology, and some deem them fictitious even with the earlier chronology.) If this evidence should prove compelling, its dating would place Felix’s recall three years earlier than the often-proposed 59. Still, because “two years” (24:27) can include parts of two years, this would require an adjustment of the common Pauline chronology by (at minimum) only about two years.824
Up to the present, however, the supposed microletters remain elusive and not adequately documented or available to the scholarly world.825 Some claims based on supposed microletters are clearly incompatible with our other evidence,826 and the microletters are so small that one wonders if they do not involve the imaginative reading of nonalphabetic marks, however well intentioned.827 Until this evidence has been fully evaluated (and either decisively accepted or rejected) by experts, many scholars will continue to prefer a date about 59 C.E. on the basis of multiple (yet also not absolutely certain) sources of other evidence.
A governor was not supposed to leave office before his successor arrived (Suet. Jul. 18.1).828 More important, he was supposed to diligently continue his work, including administering justice, until his successor arrived.829 No one, however, could force a governor to speed up his cases, and even some notable defendants were detained for years without trial.830 Prisoners could secure scribes to help them file petitions to expedite their cases or secure release, but a petition would have done Paul little good if his delayed captivity was deliberate.831 If he was not condemned in two years, some scholars argue that Roman law might technically mandate his release;832 but Luke can be referring to simply parts of two years (i.e., probably not a full two years), and again, provincial governors were not bound by laws applying in Rome. Even if Rome’s law applied here, Paul’s accusers could cause Felix more trouble than Paul’s supporters could.
Once a person was convicted, his confinement might last a matter of days,833 but the time could stretch much longer.834 Delays before trial could take years, as Egyptian, Greek, and Roman evidence all attest.835 Although imprisonment was not a formal legal punishment for free persons, long delays often had this practical effect.836 The sources provide various reasons for the delays: “the sheer volume of court business,”837 a change in magistrates,838 magistrates’ misbehavior or procrastination,839 and litigants’ delays.840 Paul’s refusal to pay a bribe (Acts 24:26) and the political expediency of granting a favor to his accusers (24:27) account for the delays in Paul’s case.841
After executing the most clearly guilty, Albinus emptied the prisons when he left, to show favor to the people of Jerusalem; Josephus complains that he thereby increased the number of robbers in the countryside.842 But Albinus’s action of releasing prisoners rather than leaving a case pending is portrayed as unusual;843 such a release was probably more common during a governor’s tenure.844 Governors often efficiently dispatched a backlog when they needed to clear jails quickly; prisoners who appeared innocent would then be released, and those who appeared guilty could be summarily executed.845 Josephus praises the swift justice of Philip, Herod’s brother, who did not delay his tribunal but, whenever anyone needed judgment, offered it on the spot, punishing the guilty and pronouncing in favor of those wrongly accused (Ant. 18.107). Whether or not such quick decisions were in fact just, they appeared efficient.
By leaving Paul prisoner after an initial hearing, Felix left his successor no indication of Paul’s innocence, although the court records (similar to the précis that Luke provides us), with information that should have had obvious implications, would remain available whenever his case came up.846 No one could predict how Festus would handle the case. Roman criminal law did not assign many specifics, and magistrates held considerable freedom to decide cases (though circumscribed somewhat in the case of Roman citizens).847 Even if Felix had left Paul sentenced for a crime instead of leaving his case pending, Festus had legal authority to veto Felix’s decree.848 Indeed, had Felix been convicted in Rome, his earlier decrees could even have been annulled.849
Ironically, had it not been for the intervention of Paul’s enemies (Acts 25:2–3), Paul could have languished in custody in Caesarea much longer. The accession of a new procurator meant new administrative priorities and a new shuffling of cases. Rapske notes that prisoners were often “‘lost’ in the bureaucratic machinery, spending months or years longer in custody awaiting ‘discovery.’”850
Porcius Festus was presumably an equestrian belonging to the well-known gens Porcia, probably from the Porcii in Tusculum.851 Whereas Josephus’s War describes the procuratorships of Festus’s predecessor, Felix (War 2.247–70), and Festus’s successor, Albinus (2.272–76), at length, he describes Festus’s in a paragraph (2.271). The description is short either because Josephus preferred to focus on causes of the war in this volume, or because Festus’s tenure was fairly brief, or (most likely) both.852 Josephus does, however, report more in his Antiquities (Ant. 20.182–97). Festus was effective in suppressing unrest (War 2.271; Ant. 20.188), and most relevant for our passage, he showed some degree of tolerance for Jewish customs with which he disagreed (Ant. 20.193–94). But even here, his own tenure seems to encompass few events,853 and he died in office (20.197).
In whatever year Festus became governor, he would have begun his office on July 1 (see comment on Acts 18:12–17); while this was the official starting date, however, with Felix gone, Judeans would have looked to him on whatever date he arrived. Paul was earlier detained in Caesarea in early summer, shortly after Pentecost (Acts 20:16; 24:11). Luke’s “two years” can mean parts of two years (see comments on Pauline chronology at the beginning of Acts 9) and hence, if Luke uses the phrase loosely, could refer simply to the slightly more than one year between Felix’s acceptance of the case and Festus’s arrival.854 One could assume a longer estimate, but in this shorter reading, even the lower chronology proposed for Festus’s accession (56 C.E.) would fit all the data in Acts and the Pauline correspondence (with Paul being arrested in 55, shortly after the Egyptian’s revolt; see comment on Acts 21:38).