17. Paul on trial

Jerusalem and Rome were the centres of two enormously strong power blocs. The faith of Jerusalem went back two millennia to Abraham. The rule of Rome extended some 3 million square miles round the Mediterranean Sea. Jerusalem’s strength lay in history and tradition, Rome’s in conquest and organization. The combined might of Jerusalem and Rome was overwhelming. If a solitary dissident like Paul were to set himself against them, the outcome would be inevitable. His chances of survival would resemble those of a butterfly before a steamroller. He would be crushed, utterly obliterated from the face of the earth.

Yet such an outcome, we may confidently affirm, never even entered Paul’s mind as a possibility. For he saw his situation from an entirely different perspective. He was no traitor to either church or state that he should come into collision with them, although this is how his accusers tried to frame him. The enemies of Jesus had followed the same ploy. In their own court they had accused him of threatening to destroy the temple and of blaspheming, while before Pilate they had represented him as guilty of sedition – subverting the nation, opposing taxes to Caesar and claiming to be himself a king. Now Paul’s enemies laid similar charges against him, namely that he had offended ‘against the Jewish law’, ‘against the temple’ and ‘against Caesar’ (25:7–8).

But Paul was as innocent in these areas as Jesus had been. He had no quarrel with the God-given status of either Rome or Jerusalem. On the contrary, as he had written to the Roman Christians, he recognized that the authority given to Rome came from God and that the privileges given to Israel came from God also. The gospel did not undermine the law, whether Jewish or Roman, but rather ‘upheld’ it. To be sure, the Romans might misuse their God-given authority and the Jews might misrepresent their law as the means of salvation. In such situations Paul would oppose them. But that was not the issue now. Paul’s contention, while on trial, was that in principle the gospel both supports the rule of Caesar (25:8–12) and fulfils the hope of Israel (26:6ff.). His defence before his judges was to present himself as a loyal citizen of Rome and a loyal son of Israel.

Paul’s double denial of treason and double insistence on loyalty is the thread which runs through these chapters. So far he has defended himself before a Jewish crowd (21:40ff.) and the Sanhedrin (23:1ff.). Now he will stand trial before the procurator Felix (24:1ff.), the procurator Festus (25:1ff.) and King Agrippa II (25:23ff.). In each of these five trials, in which the charge was now political (sedition), now religious (sacrilege), the judging audience was part Roman and part Jewish. Thus, when Paul spoke to the Jewish crowd and the Jewish Council, Claudius Lysias, the Roman tribune, was present and listening, while when Paul stood before Felix and Festus, the representatives of Rome, it was the Jews who were prosecuting. Then in the fifth trial, which was the grand finale, King Agrippa II combined both authorities within himself, for he had been appointed by Rome but was also an acknowledged authority on Jewish affairs.

1. Paul before Felix (24:1–27)

At the end of the previous chapter Felix, having read the letter from Claudius Lysias, sent to Jerusalem for Paul’s accusers and meanwhile kept him in custody in Caesarea. Five days later, dating presumably from Paul’s arrival, the high priest Ananias responded to the procurator’s summons and went down to Caesarea with some of the elders and a lawyer named Tertullus. As soon as the court convened, they brought their charges against Paul before the governor (1). Whether they made their accusations in speech or in writing we are not told, but after the procurator had received them, Paul was called in and Tertullus presented his case before Felix (2a), or ‘opened for the prosecution’ (jb).

a. The prosecution by Tertullus (24:2b–9)

As a trained and experienced professional lawyer, Tertullus began with what was called a captatio benevolentiae, that is, an endeavour to capture the judge’s goodwill. Traditionally, it was complimentary to the point of hypocrisy and often included a promise of brevity, but on this occasion it descended to ‘almost nauseating flattery’. For Tertullus expressed gratitude for the ‘peace’ Felix had secured and the ‘reforms’ he had intro­duced, whereas in reality he had put down several insurrections with such barbarous brutality that he earned for himself the horror, not the thanks, of the Jewish population. Here are Tertullus’s words:

We have enjoyed a long period of peace under you, and your foresight has brought about reforms in this nation. Everywhere and in every way, most excellent Felix, we acknowledge this with profound gratitude. But in order not to weary you further, I would request that you be kind enough to hear us briefly.

(2b–4)

Tertullus went on to specify three charges against Paul. First, we have found this man to be a troublemaker [‘a perfect pest’, neb, jb], stirring up riots among the Jews all over the world (5a). This was a serious accusation because of its political overtones. There were many Jewish agitators at that time, messianic pretenders who threatened the very ‘peace’ which Tertullus had attributed to Felix.

Second, Tertullus continued, Paul is a ringleader of the Nazarene sect (5b). The word hairesis meant ‘sect, party, school’ and was applied to both the Sadducees (5:17) and the Pharisees (15:5; 26:5) as traditions within Judaism. It is in this sense that it is now used of Christians. It had not yet come to mean ‘heresy’, although its use in this chapter (5, 14) and its recurrence in 28:22 ‘incline towards’ the rendering ‘heretical sect’ (BAGD).

The third charge against Paul was that he even tried to desecrate the temple (6), a reference to the belief that he had brought Trophimus the Ephesian within the prohibited precinct (21:29). This was a particularly damaging and dangerous accusation, because the Romans had given the Jews wide powers in dealing with offences against their temple. So we seized him (6), said Tertullus in a dishonest euphemism for the Jews’ attempt to lynch him (21:30–31). The Western reading then adds verses 6b–8a, which av and jb include in their text but niv relegates to the margin: ‘and we would have judged him in accordance with our law. But the commander Lysias came and took him from us with much violence, ordering his accusers to come before you.’ The effect of this addition is to complete the reversal of the facts, attributing the violence to Lysias instead of to the Jewish crowd, as the orderly arrest had been ascribed to the crowd instead of to Lysias.

Tertullus concluded his prosecution with a direct appeal to Felix: By examining him yourself you will be able to learn the truth about all these charges we are bringing against him (8). When he had finished, the other Jews joined in the accusation, asserting that these things were true (9).

b. The defence by Paul (24:10–21)

As soon as the governor motioned for him to speak, Paul launched into his defence. He also began with a captatio benevolentiae, although it was considerably more modest and moderate than Tertullus’s had been: I know that for a number of years you have been a judge over this nation; so I gladly make my defence (10). He then proceeded to refute the prosecution’s allegations one by one.

First, he was emphatically not a troublemaker.

You can easily verify that no more than twelve days ago I went up to Jerusalem to worship. My accusers did not find me arguing with anyone at the temple, or stirring up a crowd in the synagogues or anywhere else in the city. And they cannot prove to you the charges they are now making against me.

(11–13)

In other words, in the few days at his disposal he had no time to stir up an insurrection; he had had no intention of doing so either, since he went to Jerusalem as a pilgrim to worship, not as an agitator to cause a riot; and his accusers could produce no evidence that in temple, synagogue or city he had caused a disturbance or even engaged in an argument.

Second, Paul addressed himself to the charge that he was ‘a ringleader of the Nazarene sect’. This led him to affirmation as well as denial. Although he was indeed a follower of the Way, this was not a sect, as they called it, for he worshipped the God of their ancestors and believed the teaching of the Scriptures.

Paul’s public confession of faith (homologō, I admit, 14) consisted of four affirmations: (a) I worship the God of our ancestors; (b) I believe everything that is in accordance with the Law and . . . the Prophets; (c) I have the same hope in God as these men; and (d) I strive always [jb, ‘as much as they’] to keep my conscience clear (14–16). Paul’s purpose in this was not just to make a personal declaration, however, but to insist that he shared it with the whole people of God. He worshipped the same God (‘the God of our ancestors’), believed the same truths (the Law and the Prophets), shared the same hope (the resurrection of both the righteous and the wicked) and cherished the same ambition (to keep a clear conscience). He was not an innovator, therefore, but loyal to the ancestral faith. Nor was he a sectarian or heretical deviant, for he stood squarely in mainstream Judaism. His worship, faith, hope and goal were no different from theirs. ‘The Way’ enjoyed a direct continuity with the Old Testament, for the Scriptures bore witness to Jesus Christ as the one in whom God’s promises had been fulfilled.

The third accusation against Paul was that he had profaned the temple (6). This the apostle strenuously denied. Far from desecrating the temple, his purpose in visiting Jerusalem had been religious (to bring my people gifts for the poor and to present offerings, 17) and his condition, when he was found in the temple doing this, had been one of ceremonial purity (18). There was no crowd and no disturbance. It was certain Asian Jews who had interfered with him and caused a riot (though Paul left his sentence unfinished) just when he was demonstrating his love for his nation and his respect for its laws. Why were these men not in court to press their charges (19)? Their absence was a serious breach of Roman law, which ‘was very strong against accusers who abandoned their charges’. Since those Asian Jews were not there as witnesses, then those who were there should state of what crime the Sanhedrin had convicted him (20). The fact is that the Pharisees had declared him innocent of any crime (23:9); only the Sadducees thought him guilty, and that only of a theological belief concerning the resurrection of the dead (21).

c. The adjournment by Felix (24:22–27)

Then Felix, who was well acquainted with the Way [perhaps through his Jewish wife, Drusilla], adjourned the proceedings. He found himself on the horns of a dilemma. He could not convict Paul, since Lysias the tribune had found no fault in him (23:29), nor had the Sanhedrin (23:9), nor had Tertullus been able to substantiate his charges. On the other hand, Felix was unwilling to release Paul, partly because he hoped for a bribe (26) and partly because he wanted to curry favour with the Jews (27). The only other option was to postpone his verdict on the pretext that he needed the tribune’s advice: When Lysias the commander comes . . . I will decide your case (22). Meanwhile, Felix ordered the centurion to keep Paul under guard but to give him some freedom and permit his friends to take care of his needs (23). The Romans had different degrees of imprisonment. Because Paul was a Roman citizen who had not been convicted of any offence, Felix issued instructions that he should be given custodia libera, in which, although he was never left unguarded, his friends enjoyed free access to him. We may guess that Luke visited him, and Philip the evangelist with his four daughters who lived in Caesarea (21:8–9), together with others who were members of the local church.

There was to be no further public hearing for two years (27). During this period, however, Felix conducted a kind of private investigation of his own. The Western text ascribes the initiative to his wife Drusilla, ‘who asked to see Paul and hear the word’. ‘Wishing therefore to satisfy her’, Felix summoned Paul. Drusilla was the youngest daughter of Herod Agrippa I, whose opposition and death Luke has described earlier (12:1–23). She was therefore the sister of King Agrippa II and of Bernice, to whom Luke will introduce us in the next chapters (25:13, 23; 26:30). She had a reputation for ravishing youthful beauty, on account of which Felix, with the aid of a Cypriot magician, had seduced her from her rightful husband and secured her for himself. She was, in fact, his third wife. The lax morals of Felix and Drusilla help to explain the topics on which Paul spoke to them.

In general, Paul focused on faith in Christ Jesus (24). Since Drusilla was a Jewess, he must have rehearsed the facts of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus and deployed his customary arguments that this Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ of Scripture. He will also have presented Jesus not only as a figure of history and the fulfilment of prophecy, but also as the Saviour and Lord in whom Felix as well as Drusilla should put their trust. Paul never proclaimed the good news in a vacuum, however, but always in a context, the personal context of his hearers. So he went on to discourse on righteousness, self-control and the judgment to come (25). Most commentators relate ‘righteousness’ or ‘justice’ to the well-known cruelty and oppression of which Felix was guilty, and ‘self-control’ to the unbridled lust which had drawn and united him to Drusilla, while ‘judgment to come’ would be the inevitable penalty for their injustice and immorality. And this may be correct. But it seems to me possible that the dikaiosynē (‘righteousness’) of which Paul spoke was precisely that ‘righteousness from God’ or divine act of justification which he had elaborated in his letter to the Romans. In this case the three topics of conversation were what are sometimes called the ‘three tenses of salvation’, namely how to be justified or pronounced righteous by God, how to overcome temptation and gain self-mastery, and how to escape the awful final judgment of God. It is not surprising that, as these solemn subjects were opened up and pressed home, Felix was afraid (25: ‘alarmed’, rsv, neb) and declared that he had had enough for the time being.

During the succeeding months, however, Felix (though now, it seems, without Drusilla) sent for him frequently and talked with him (26). Luke is explicit that he hoped for a bribe, a practice as common as it was illegal. Ramsay even argued from the heavy expenses Paul must have paid for the purification rites (21:24), the long lawsuit, the appeal to Caesar and his rented accommodation in Rome (28:30), in addition to Felix’s hope for a bribe, that the apostle must recently have inherited some family property. At all events, the governor’s greed (for which he also had a reputation) was aroused. It would be cynical to suppose, however, that Felix’s only motive was to hold Paul to ransom. I think he knew that Paul had something more precious than money, something which money cannot buy. If his conscience had been aroused by Paul’s teaching, then he must have been seeking forgiveness and peace. Certainly the release of Felix from sin meant more to Paul than his own release from prison. But unfortunately there is no evidence that Felix ever surrendered to Christ and was redeemed. On the contrary, when Porcius Festus succeeded to the procuratorship, Felix still left Paul in prison (27), even beyond the two-year period which was ‘the maximum duration of preventive custody’, in order to win the Jews’ favour, which means that ‘he not only coveted money, but also glory’.

2. Paul before Festus (25:1–22)

According to Josephus, Felix was recalled to Rome in order to explain his savage suppression of a dispute between Jews and Syrians over their respective civil rights in Caesarea, and would have been severely punished but for his brother Pallas’s appeal to Nero. Not much is known about Porcius Festus, who replaced him, for he died in office only two years later. But he seems to have been more just and moderate than either his predecessor or his successors.

The new procurator lost no time in acquainting himself with Jewish affairs, including the case against Paul. Luke presents him to his readers as ‘a brisk and energetic worker’ and summarizes his involvement in the case: (a) he refused the Jewish leaders’ request to be allowed to try Paul in Jerusalem; (b) he heard Paul’s defence and appeal to Caesar; and (c) he consulted King Agrippa II as to what he should do next.

a. Festus refuses the Jewish leaders’ request (25:1–5)

Although Festus was a more conciliatory character than Felix, he stood firm on his first visit to Jerusalem. In spite of the urgent pleas of the Jewish leaders to have Paul transferred to Jerusalem to be tried there, Festus refused. Had his suspicions been aroused that they had hidden motives, even (as Luke discloses) that they were preparing an ambush to kill him (3)? We do not know. What is apparent is that Festus was determined to allow justice to take its course. Roman procedure followed three stages. First, charges had to be put together and presented by the prosecutor. Second, there would be ‘a proper formal act of accusation by the interested party’. Third, the case was heard by ‘the holder of the imperium in person’, in this case the procurator. In this way the accused and his accusers would come face to face (15–16).

b. Festus hears Paul’s defence and appeal to Caesar (25:6–12)

Luke does not specify what the many serious charges were (7), but Paul’s defence indicates that he was accused of offending in three ways, namely against the Jewish law, the temple and the emperor (8). Once again reli­gious and political charges were combined, but on this occasion Caesar is mentioned for the first time. The disturbances which Paul was alleged to have caused were religious in their origin but civil in their character. That is why Caesar’s representative was obliged to take note of them. The Jews knew that the Roman governors ‘were unwilling to convict on purely religious charges and therefore tried to give a political twist to the religious charge’. And the extension of the trial was due to the fact that ‘the charge was political . . . and yet the evidence was theological’.

It was this mention of Caesar which determined the course of Paul’s trial before Festus. For some reason which is not apparent, except that he wished to do the Jews a favour, Festus gave Paul the option of being tried before him in Jerusalem (9). In making this offer he was within his rights. ‘Nothing prevented him from using the Sanhedrin, or members of it, as his own concilium. That is what Paul feared.’ Paul saw clearly that he could hope for justice and for acquittal only from the Romans, not from the Jews. He had committed no offence against the Jews, as Festus knew perfectly well. If he were guilty of a capital offence, he was willing to bear the penalty. But if the Jewish accusations were false, no-one – not even the procurator – had the right to hand him over to them. So he had only one option left: I appeal to Caesar! (11). Festus seems to have been quite unprepared for this development. What would he do now? He could neither convict and sentence Paul, for fear of offending against Roman justice, nor release him, for fear of offending the Jews. So, after conferring with his concilium, his legal advisers, he realized that he had no alternative but to allow the prisoner’s appeal to go forward. You have appealed to Caesar. To Caesar you will go! (12).

This was not the appellatio of a later period, which was an appeal to a higher court against a sentence passed by a lower one, but rather the Roman citizen’s ancient right of provocatio, which protected such a citizen ‘from summary punishment, execution or torture without trial, from private or public arrest, and from actual trial by magistrates outside Italy’.

If in his trial before Felix Paul had emphasized the continuity of ‘the Way’ with Judaism, in his trial before Festus he stressed his loyalty to Caesar. Caesar is mentioned eight times in this chapter, five times as Kaisar, twice as Sebastos (21, 25), the Greek equivalent of Augustus, and once as ho Kyrios (26), ‘the Lord’. Paul knew that he had not offended against Caesar (8) and that he stood in Caesar’s court (10). It was only logical that he should exercise his citizen’s right to appeal to Caesar (11, 12, 21).

c. Festus asks Agrippa’s advice (25:13–22)

Herod Agrippa II was the son of Herod Agrippa I of Acts 12 and the great-grandson of Herod the Great. Bernice was his sister, and rumours were rife that their relationship was incestuous. Because he had been only seventeen years old when his father died, he was considered too young to assume the kingdom of Judea, which therefore reverted to rule by procurator. Instead, he was given a tiny and insignificant northern kingdom within what is now Lebanon, and this was later augmented by territory in Galilee. He was nevertheless influential in Jewry because the Emperor Claudius had committed to him both the care of the temple and the appointment of the high priest. He and Bernice came to Caesarea to pay their respects to the new procurator, and during their stay Festus raised Paul’s case, which he had inherited from Felix. He told the king three things which he had done.

First, on his visit to Jerusalem, he had heard the Jewish leaders accuse Paul and request his condemnation, but had insisted that according to Roman custom the accused must be allowed to face his accusers and defend himself against them (15–16). Second, when the Jewish leaders came to Caesarea, Festus had immediately convened the court, only to discover that Paul was not being charged with crimes against the state, but with religious offences, and with the claim that a dead man named Jesus . . . was alive (17–19). Third, because Festus felt out of his depth in religious questions like these, he had asked Paul if he was willing to be tried in Jerusalem, but instead he had appealed to Caesar, and Festus had granted his appeal (20–21).

Intrigued by Festus’s summary of the case, Agrippa said that he would like to hear Paul himself, and Festus agreed (22). Paul had aroused his curiosity, much as Jesus had aroused the curiosity of his great-uncle, Herod Antipas.

3. Paul before Agrippa (25:23 – 26:32)

Paul’s trial before Agrippa is the longest and most elaborate of the five. Luke sketches the scene with graphic detail, and Paul’s defence speech is more polished in structure and language than the others, which may lead us to wonder if Luke was present in the visitors’ gallery. Otherwise Paul (or somebody else) must have repeated it all to him later, although Luke may also have had access to the official documentation of the case.

The next day Agrippa and Bernice came with great pomp (23a). ‘They would have on their purple robes of royalty and the gold circlet of the crown on their brows. Doubtless Festus, to do honour to the occasion, had donned the scarlet robe which a governor wore on state occasions.’ Following them, as they entered the audience room, in the pageantry of the procession, were both the high-ranking military officers, the military tribunes who were ‘members of the procurator’s staff’, and the prom­inent men of the city. When they had taken their seats, at the command of Festus, Paul was brought in (23). According to tradition, he was only a little fellow and plain in appearance, balding, with beetle brows, hooked nose and bandy legs, yet ‘full of grace’. Wearing neither crown nor gown, but only handcuffs and perhaps a plain prisoner’s tunic, he nevertheless dominated the court with his quiet, Christlike dignity and confidence.

a. Festus introduces the case (25:24–27)

Festus’s account of the situation was a mixture of truth and error. It was true that the Jewish community had twice asked for Paul’s death, and that Festus had not found him guilty of any capital offence (24–25). It was not true, however, that Festus had nothing definite to write to His Majesty about Paul (26) and that he could not ‘specify’ the charges against him (27). For the Jewish charges, as we have seen, were both definite and specific. What Festus lacked was not charges, but evidence to verify them. For lack of this, he should have had the courage to declare Paul innocent and to release him.

b. Paul makes his defence (26:1–23)

It was a dramatic moment when the holy and humble apostle of Jesus Christ stood before this representative of the worldly, ambitious, morally corrupt family of the Herods, who for generation after generation had set themselves in opposition to truth and righteousness. ‘Their founder, Herod the Great,’ wrote R. B. Rackham,

had tried to destroy the infant Jesus. His son Antipas, the tetrarch of Galilee, beheaded John the Baptist, and won from the Lord the title of ‘fox’. His grandson Agrippa I slew James the son of Zebedee with the sword. Now we see Paul brought before Agrippa’s son.

But Paul was not in the least intimidated. For he was accurate in his reference to Agrippa’s familiarity with Jewish customs and controversies (3), and the Western reviser’s gloss, though not part of Luke’s original text, is surely correct in saying that Paul was ‘confident, and encouraged by the Holy Spirit’ (1).

Paul tells his personal story, drawing attention to its three principal phases. He portrays himself (a) as the strict Pharisee, (b) as the fanatical persecutor and (c) as the commissioned apostle.

First, the apostle describes his upbringing as a Pharisee (4–8). Saul must have been a familiar figure in Jerusalem when as a young man he sat at the feet of Rabbi Gamaliel (22:3). He is likely to have gained a reputation for scholarship, righteousness and religious zeal. Many Palestinian Jews still alive knew how he had lived as a child, first in Tarsus, then in Jerusalem. More than that, they had known him personally and could testify from their own experience that he had belonged to the strictest party in Judaism, that of the Pharisees (4–5). It was surely strange, therefore, that he should now be on trial for his hope in God’s promise to the ancestors, which he and they shared, namely that God would send his Messiah (foretold and foreshadowed in the Old Testament) to rescue and redeem his people. The twelve tribes were still eagerly expecting the fulfilment of this promise. But he believed it had already been fulfilled in Jesus, whose resurrection was the proof of his messiahship and the pledge of our resurrection too. Why should anybody think resurrection to be incredible? The Pharisees believed in it. And now God had demonstrated it by raising Jesus from the dead.

Second, Paul describes his fanatical persecution of Christ (9–11). Saul the Pharisee was convinced that it was his solemn duty to oppose the name and the claims of Jesus of Nazareth as those of an impostor. Moreover, he had the courage of his convictions. He began his persecuting programme in Jerusalem. Armed with authority from the chief priests, he not only imprisoned many disciples of Jesus, but even, when they were ‘sentenced to death’ (jb), cast his vote against them. He searched the ­synagogues for Christians in order to bring them to punishment. ‘The synagogue punishment of whipping will be meant here.’ He tried by force to make them blaspheme (the phrase indicates that he by no means always succeeded), and in his ‘obsession’ (rsv, ‘in raging fury’) he pursued them even to foreign cities.

Third, Paul describes his conversion and his commissioning as an apostle (12–18). Damascus was one of the ‘foreign cities’ to which Paul travelled, equipped with a high-priestly extradition order. But before he reached his destination the divine intervention took place. A heavenly light, more brilliant than the sun at noon, flashed round him and his companions. Together they fell to the ground. Then a voice, addressing Paul in Aramaic, asked why he was persecuting him and, quoting a well-known proverb, declared it painful for him to kick against the goads. Dr Longenecker gives the references in the works of Euripides, Aeschylus, Pindar and Terence where this saying occurs as a metaphor for useless ‘opposition to deity’.

To the anonymous voice’s question ‘Why are you persecuting me?’ Saul responded with the counter-question ‘Who are you that I am persecuting?’ Although his addition Lord does not necessarily mean more than ‘Sir’, yet the fact that Paul introduces Jesus’ reply with the words the Lord replied, so that kyrie and kyrios stand together in Luke’s text, suggests that it did mean more. Surely, when the heavenly voice declared, I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting, at least two truths must have registered instantly in Saul’s consciousness. The first is that the crucified Jesus was alive and had thus been vindicated; and the second, that the Jesus who identified himself so closely with the Christians that to persecute them was to persecute him, must regard them as being his own special people.

In Paul’s account to Agrippa of what happened on the Damascus road, however, what he stressed was not his conversion, but his commissioning; not his becoming a disciple of Jesus, but his appointment to be an apostle. So Jesus’ first word of command to him was Now get up and stand on your feet (16). This cannot mean that he had been wrong to fall to the ground, for in that fall he both was humbled and humbled himself. Nor is there any hint that he was now grovelling in a prostrate position inappropriate to a human being and a Christian. No, the command to stand was a necessary preliminary to the command to go; it introduced his commissioning. We are reminded of Ezekiel. When he saw ‘the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord’ he ‘fell face down’. But God immediately said to him, ‘Son of man, stand up on your feet . . . I am sending you to the Israelites . . . You must speak my words to them.’ In fact, the commissioning of Saul as Christ’s apostle was deliberately shaped to resemble the call of Isaiah, Ezekiel, Jeremiah and others to be God’s prophets. In both cases the language of ‘sending’ was used. As God ‘sent’ his prophets to announce his word to his people, so Christ ‘sent’ his apostles to preach and teach in his name, including Paul who was now ‘sent’ to be the apostle to the Gentiles (17).

Christ’s commission of Saul took the form of three verbs, all in the first person singular of direct speech, although respectively in the past, future and present tenses: ‘I have appeared to you’, ‘I will rescue you’ and ‘I am sending you.’ First, I have appeared to you to appoint you as a servant and as a witness (16a). The general call to be a ‘servant’ is narrowed down into the particular call to be a ‘witness’. Luke has already combined the ideas of service and witness in reference to the original apostolic eyewitnesses, and used the same word for ‘servant’ (hypēretēs). Also, in Paul’s ministry as in theirs the emphasis is on being an eyewitness, for he was to bear witness both to what he had seen of Jesus and to what Jesus would later show him (16b). Second, I will rescue you from your own people and from the Gentiles (17). A similar promise of ‘rescue’ was made to Jeremiah. This did not guarantee immunity from suffering. On the contrary, it was part of the vocation of prophets and apostles to endure suffering (cf. 9:16). But it did mean that their testimony would not be silenced until their God-appointed work was done.

Third, I am sending you (egō apostellō se). The emphatic egō (‘I’), the personal se (‘you’) and the verb apostellō (‘send’) could almost be rendered (as in 22:21) ‘I myself apostle you’, ‘I myself make you an apostle.’ For this was Paul’s commission to be an apostle, especially to be the apostle to the Gentiles, which was comparable to the commission to the Twelve which was renewed by the risen Lord on the first Easter Day in his word ‘I am sending you.’ And what was Paul being sent to do? In essence, to open their eyes (18a). For the unbelieving Gentile world was blind to the truth of God in Jesus Christ. Yet this opening of the eyes did not mean intellectual enlightenment only, but conversion: to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God (18b). For conversion includes a radical transfer of allegiance and so of environment. It is both a liberation from the darkness of satanic rule and a liberation into the sphere of God’s marvellous light and power. In other words, it means entering the kingdom of God. Further, the blessings of the kingdom are the forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in Christ (18c). The promise of forgiveness was part of the apostolic gospel from the beginning. So was belonging to the messianic people (2:40–41, 47). For the new life in Christ and the new community of Christ always go together. What was especially significant in Christ’s commissioning of Paul was that the Gentiles were to be granted a full and equal share with the Jews in the privileges of those sanctified by faith in Christ, that is, the holy people of God.

Thus, the commissioning formula was ‘I am sending you.’ And the object of Paul’s commission was that he should open blind eyes and convert people from darkness to light and from Satan to God. Not of course that he himself had authority or power to do the eye-opening or the converting. These things could be effected by Christ only through his word and Spirit. In addition, the essential equipment for his mission was Christ’s appearance to him, so that he could be an eyewitness, and his necessary assurance was that Christ would rescue him from the enemies of the gospel until his course was finished and his ministry fulfilled.

Paul now turns from Christ’s commission to his response to it, and in describing this he replaces narrative with a direct address to Agrippa.

Paul begins his statement with a double negative: I was not disobedient (19). How could he have been? The vision was evidently from heaven, and it was overwhelming. His fanatical opposition was overcome in a moment, and his secret doubts resolved. Christ had appeared to him and commissioned him; his obedience corresponded precisely to the charge he had received. First in Damascus, next in Jerusalem and Judea, then also to the Gentiles, he announced the good news and called on people to repent and turn to God and demonstrate their repentance by their deeds (20). The word ‘turn’ in verse 20 is epistrephō, as in verse 18, even though there it is transitive, since it is Paul who is appointed to ‘turn’ people, while here it is intransitive, since it is the people who are urged to do the ‘turning’ in response to Paul’s preaching. These expressions are not contradictory; they explain each other. We notice also that Paul was clear from the beginning that, although salvation was by faith (18), it had to be demonstrated by good works.

It was Paul’s proclamation and promises to the Gentiles (17, 20–21), indicating that they could receive the new life and join the new community directly, without first needing to become Jews, which had aroused Jewish opposition. Indeed, they had seized him in the temple courts and tried to kill him (21). But he was rescued from their hands, according to Christ’s promise (17), and God’s help had continued with him to that very day. So I stand here (22a), he cried (as Martin Luther was to say to the Diet of Worms centuries later), bearing witness (as Jesus had instructed him) to small and great alike, the nonentities of 1 Corinthians 1:26ff. as well as the dignitaries who were in court, saying nothing beyond what the prophets and Moses said would happen (22b). This renewed claim that Paul was not an innovator, but a faithful exponent of the Scriptures, also had its parallel in Luther and the other sixteenth-century Reformers. They were accused by the Roman Catholic Church of teaching novelties. But they denied it. ‘We teach no new thing,’ Luther claimed, ‘but we repeat and establish old things, which the apostles and all godly teachers have taught before us.’ Or, as Lancelot Andrewes was to say a century later, ‘we are renovators not innovators’.

And what did Moses and the prophets say would happen? They predicted three events: first, that the Messiah would suffer; second, that he would be the first to rise from the dead; and as such, third, that he would bring the message of light to his own people and to the Gentiles (23). More simply still, Jesus the Christ was Isaiah’s ‘suffering servant’ of the Lord, who would suffer and die for our sins, be raised and highly exalted, and become a light for the Gentiles. Further, as the gospel centres on Christ’s atonement, resurrection and proclamation (through his witnesses), the resurrection is seen to be essential. Paul kept on referring to it during his trials, not in order to provoke the Pharisees and Sadducees into argument, nor only to show that he was faithful to the Jewish tradition, but because the resurrection of Jesus was the beginning and pledge of the new creation, and so at the very heart of the gospel.

c. The judges react to the prisoner (26:24–32)

In the place of an orderly summing up to conclude the trial, Luke records a most unorthodox altercation between the bench and the dock. Its high drama may be captured best if it is set out as a dialogue:

festus to paul (who at this point . . . interrupted Paul’s defence and shouted) You are out of your mind, Paul! . . . Your great learning is driving you insane (24).

paul to festus (replying to him with great composure and dignity) I am not insane, most excellent Festus . . . What I am saying is true and reasonable. The king is familiar with these things, and I can speak freely to him. I am convinced that none of this has escaped his notice, because it was not done in a corner (25–26), or ‘has been no hole-and-corner business’ (jbp, neb).

paul to agrippa (boldly confronting the king, of whom he has just been speaking to Festus in the third person) King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know you do (27).

The court gasps. Has any prisoner ever before presumed to address His Royal Highness with such impertinence? Agrippa is unhorsed. Too embarrassed to give Paul a direct answer to a direct question, and too proud to allow him to dictate the topic of their dialogue, he takes evasive action with an ambiguous counter-question.

agrippa to paul Do you think that in such a short time you can persuade me to be a Christian? (28).

The court gasps again. That was a clever riposte, by which the king regained the initiative. A murmur went round the audience as people discussed exactly what he meant. It was ‘variously represented as a trivial jest, a bitter sarcasm, a grave irony, a burst of anger, and an expression of sincere conviction’. How would Paul respond?

paul to agrippa (in no doubt how he will interpret the king’s words, and determined to exploit them for the gospel) Short time or long – I pray to God that not only you but all who are listening to me today may become what I am, except for these chains (29).

With those words Paul lifted his hands and rattled the chains which bound him. He was sincere, the prisoner Paul. He really believed what he was talking about. He wanted everybody to be like him, including the king – everybody a Christian, but nobody a prisoner. You could not help admiring his integrity. There was also a finality about his statement, for his judges had nothing more to say. So the king rose, and with him the governor and Bernice and those sitting with them (30). They left the room (i.e. withdrew from the court) and began talking with one another.

the judges to each other (perplexed to know what to do) This man is not doing anything that deserves death or imprisonment (31).

They were all agreed about that. The prisoner may have been mad, but he was certainly not a criminal. Their private verdict of ‘not guilty’ was unanimous. Agrippa then had the last word, though what he said only increased the governor’s dilemma.

agrippa to festus This man could have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar (32).

Agrippa was quite right in theory. But to acquit Paul now would be to short-circuit his appeal, and so to invade the emperor’s territory. No provincial judge would dare to do that.

4. Conclusion

Looking back over these three chapters (24–26) and the three trials which they record, it seems that Luke intends to portray Paul in two guises, first and negatively as a defendant, then second and positively as a witness.

a. Paul as defendant

Behind all three trials, as we have noted, there lies the double allegation of the Jews that Paul had spoken or acted against Moses on the one hand and against Caesar on the other. But Paul vigorously denied both charges (25:8).

Before Felix Paul rejected the charge of sectarianism, and emphasized the continuity of his gospel with the Old Testament Scriptures. He served the God of their ancestors with a good conscience. He believed everything written in the Law and Prophets, and taught no more than they taught. He cherished a firm hope in the fulfilment of God’s promises about the Messiah. Not apostasy but continuity summed up his attitude to Moses and the prophets.

Before Festus Paul rejected the charge of sedition. He had not been responsible for any breaches of the peace or of public order. So certain was he that he had done nothing against Caesar that he felt it necessary to appeal to Caesar in order to clear himself (25:8, 11). Not anarchy but loyalty summed up his attitude to Caesar.

Before Agrippa, no fresh charges were produced. Paul seems rather to have been responding to the unspoken question why the Jews were so anxious to get rid of him (25:24; 26:21). It had to do with his ministry to the Gentiles, to which, however, he was inescapably committed out of obedience to the vision and voice of Jesus.

Paul’s three defences were successful. Neither Felix, nor Festus, nor Agrippa found him guilty. Instead, each indicated that he was innocent of the charges made against him. Paul was not content with this, however. He went further. He proclaimed in court his threefold loyalty – to Moses and the prophets, to Caesar, and above all to Jesus Christ who met him on the Damascus road. He was a faithful Jew, a faithful Roman and a faithful Christian.

b. Paul as witness

Luke’s purpose in describing the three court scenes was not just apologetic, but evangelistic. He wanted his readers to remember that Paul had been commissioned to be Christ’s ‘servant and . . . witness’ (26:16). During those two years of imprisonment, which had interrupted his missionary career, he must have felt very frustrated. But when opportunities for witness were given him, he seized them with confidence and courage. The main examples Luke gives are the private interview with Felix and the public confrontation with Agrippa. Paul was fearless in both cases.

Felix has been described as ‘one of the worst of Roman officials’. Mention has already been made of his cruelty, lust and greed. He seems to have had no moral scruples. But Paul was not afraid of him. Since he spoke to him about righteousness, self-control and future judgment, it is reasonable to assume both that he rebuked the governor for his sins, as courageously as John the Baptist had rebuked Herod Antipas, and that he called on him to repent and believe in Jesus.

As for the trial before Agrippa, Paul was not overawed by the show of pomp and power which marked that occasion, or by the assembly of notable people in court. ‘See what an audience is gathered together for Paul!’ exclaimed Chrysostom. But Paul made no attempt to curry favour himself with the authorities. He wanted the king’s salvation, not his approval. So he did not stop with the story of his own conversion; he was concerned for Agrippa’s conversion too. Three times, therefore, Luke has Paul repeating the elements of the gospel in the king’s hearing. First, he summarized Christ’s commission to him to bring people into his light, power, forgiveness and new community (26:18). Second, he described his obedience to the heavenly vision in terms of preaching that people should repent, turn to God and do good works (20). Third, he detailed his ­continuing mission ‘to this very day’, which was to testify that, as the Scriptures had foretold, Christ died, rose and proclaimed the dawn of the new age (23). Each time Paul thus repeated the gospel in court, he was in fact preaching it to the court. Festus might call him mad, as some had said of Jesus, but Paul knew that he was ‘speaking the sober truth’ (25, rsv). And when the apostle finally addressed the king directly, he was confident that he not only believed the prophets (27), but was also sufficiently familiar with the facts about Jesus (26) to be persuaded of his truth.

Thank God for Paul’s courage! Kings and queens, governors and generals did not daunt him. Jesus had warned his disciples that they would be ‘brought before kings and governors’ on account of his name, and had promised that on such occasions he would give them ‘words and wisdom’. Jesus had also told Ananias (who had presumably passed the information on) that Paul was his ‘chosen instrument’ to carry his name ‘to the Gentiles and their kings and to the people of Israel’ (9:15). These predictions had come true, and Paul had not failed.

A note on the three accounts of Saul’s conversion

It is surprising that, within the comparatively small compass of his story in Acts, Luke should have included three accounts of Saul’s conversion – first as part of his unfolding narrative (9:1–19); second, in Paul’s words to a Jewish crowd in Jerusalem (22:5–16); and third, again in Paul’s words, before Agrippa (26:12–18). ‘Luke employs such repetitions’, wrote Haenchen, ‘only when he considers something to be extraordinarily important and wishes to impress it unforgettably on the reader. That is the case here.’ If the repetition is explained by the importance of the topic, however, how shall we explain the variations between the three accounts?

They certainly indicate that Luke was no slavish literalist; he saw no need to ensure that each account was a precise, word-perfect replica of the others. On the contrary, since each time the story is told, the audience and therefore the purpose of telling it are different, this is naturally reflected in the detailed presentation. Our study of how a single author (Luke) tells the same story differently will help us to understand how the three Synoptic evangelists (Matthew, Mark and Luke) could also tell their same stories differently. In this way Luke’s practice throws light on ‘redaction criticism’, that is, on how the work of a redactor (editor) may be influenced by his theological purpose in writing.

The skeleton of the story of Saul’s conversion is identical in all three accounts. All three tell us (a) that Saul had launched a campaign of violent persecution against the followers of Jesus, and that the high priest had sanctioned it; (b) that on the road from Jerusalem to Damascus a bright light from heaven flashed round him and that he fell to the ground; (c) that the voice of the risen Jesus addressed him with the question ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’, that Saul asked, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ and that Jesus replied, ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting’; and (d) that Saul was told to ‘get up’, and that he received a subsequent commission, indicating that he had been chosen and appointed to be Jesus’ witness to the Gentiles.

But some parts of the story vary widely, each adding details which the others lack. I will refer to the three accounts as successively A (9:1–19), B (22:5–16) and C (26:12–18). As to the place of conversion, A and B say ‘near Damascus’, C only ‘on the road’. As to the time, B and C say ‘about noon’, while A has no time reference at all. In relation to the light, all three say that it came ‘from heaven’, but only C describes it as ‘brighter than the sun’. In relation to the voice, only C says that it spoke in Aramaic and adds the proverb about kicking against the goads. Only B records Saul’s second question, ‘What shall I do, Lord?’ A and B both say that he was blinded, but only A tells how he was healed, whereas C mentions neither the blinding nor the healing. A and B refer to Saul’s baptism, but C does not.

These variations are all fairly trivial; their different details supplement and do not contradict each other. Two others, however, are regarded by some commentators as discrepancies. The first concerns the experience of Saul’s companions. A says that they stood speechless, but C that they fell to the ground. B says that they saw the light, but A that they did not see anyone. A says that they heard the voice, but B that they did not hear (or understand) the voice of the one speaking to Paul. It is not difficult to harmonize these apparent discrepancies, however. Presumably the men first fell down with Saul, and then stood up with him also. As for the vision and the voice, they saw the light but not the person of Jesus (as Saul did), and they heard a noise without being able to make out any words. Alternatively, as Chrysostom suggested long ago, ‘They . . . heard the voice of Paul, but saw no person to whom he answered.’

The second supposed discrepancy relates to Saul’s commission and to the role of Ananias in it. Only A tells the full story of Ananias: how he had a vision of Jesus, was told to go to Saul, raised objections, was reassured that Saul was a chosen instrument to carry Christ’s name before Gentiles as well as Jews and to suffer for the same name, went to Straight Street, laid hands on Saul and welcomed him into the fellowship. B omits the whole conversation between Jesus and Ananias, but says that Ananias came to Saul, restored his sight and passed on to him Christ’s commission to be a witness to all people. C, on the other hand, makes no reference to Ananias at all, but gives the impression that Christ commissioned Saul on the road before he entered Damascus, while the terms of the commission are much fuller, and seem to include not only the words of Ananias but also what Jesus said to Paul later in the temple when he fell into a trance (22:17ff.). Luke (or Paul himself) is evidently conflating what Jesus said on the road, to and through Ananias, and later in Jerusalem. If, as seems clear, it is his intention to bring different parts of Christ’s commission together, and not to specify where or when each part was given, we must allow him this liberty and not accuse him of inaccuracy.

Finally, it is understandable that in his own narrative Luke should give a detailed account of the role of Ananias, and that Paul, addressing hostile Jews on the steps of Fortress Antonia, should emphasize that Ananias was ‘a devout observer of the law and highly respected by all the Jews living there’ (22:12). But standing before Agrippa and Festus, Paul omitted Ananias from his story altogether. For one thing, Ananias would not have been known to them. For another, Paul wanted to stress the immediacy of his encounter with Christ. Christ had commissioned him personally and directly, and he had not been disobedient to this heavenly vision.

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