An Ephesian interlude (7): a reflection for Day 15 of Lent
“Paul entered
the synagogue and for three months spoke out boldly and argued
persuasively about the kingdom of God. When some stubbornly refused to
believe and spoke evil of the Way before the congregation, he left them, taking
the disciples with him, and argued daily in the lecture hall of Tyrannus.”
(Acts 19.8-9)
We have
seen that Luke takes pains to record declarations by imperial power-players of
the blamelessness of his protagonists (Jesus: Lk. 23.4, 14, 22; Paul:
Ac. 26.30-32). According to one scholarly
theory, the book of Acts consists of Luke’s “evidence” of Paul’s
innocence of any capital charges – evidence that Luke intended to submit during
Paul’s trial before the imperial tribunal in Rome (cf. Ac. 25.10-12;
28.30-31). If this is true, then Luke,
with his two-volume work, is doing for Jesus and Paul what Plato had done for
Socrates following Socrates’ condemnation by the “council of 500” of Athens to
die by drinking poison in 399 B.C. That
is to say, Luke is – in the case of Jesus – seeking to rehabilitate someone
whom he considers to have been unjustly condemned; in the case of Paul, Luke is
mounting arguments in an attempt to avoid him receiving a similar condemnation.[1] The Romans, by and large, were not
philosophically inclined – they were interested in power, in shaping the world
as they saw fit. As Karl Marx (1818 –
1883) would say much later, “The philosophers have interpreted the world;
however, the point is to change it”.
Several Roman figures would indeed become famous philosophers (e.g.
Cicero, Seneca, Caesar Marcus Aurelius); however, the Roman approach to the
world was primarily pragmatic (the “good life” à la Rome was finding the most
efficient way of conquering and “civilizing” the world, thereby increasing
Rome’s economic and political power and “glory”).
That being
the case, the Romans would sometimes prove to be open to “philosophical
influence”. And this, in spite of the
fact that around the mid-2nd century B.C., the Roman Senate had
decreed an outright ban on philosophers.
Also around this time, Rome had begun to intervene in Greek affairs, and
had levied a massive 500-talent fine against the city of Athens after having
found it to be at fault in a dispute with a neighbouring city-state. Athens responded by sending, in the year 155
B.C., a delegation of representatives of Greek’s major philosophical schools[2]
to lecture about their ideas, all in the hope of Rome lifting the fine. The diplomatic mission began in a series of
public lectures, followed by addresses to the Senate itself, all intended to
show off the extreme culture and learning of these heads of the great schools
of Athens, thereby softening the sentiment surrounding Rome’s indictment and
sentence.
The first philosopher
to address the Senate, Carneades, excited the ire of the senators and was sent
home before he could “corrupt any more of Rome’s youth” (part of the charge
that Athens had brought against Socrates some two centuries earlier).[3] The next lecturer, the Stoic Diogenes
“the diplomat” (230 – 142 B.C.), had more success. His speech on the theme of justice convinced
the Roman senate to reduce the fine from 500 to 100 talents. The philosophical-diplomatic mission to Rome
would actually mark a turn in Stoic thought towards a more politically-oriented
philosophical “program”.[4] No longer content to speculate about abstract
principles applicable only to individuals, many Stoics would embark on careers
as political advisors (e.g. Seneca, who had the perilous task of advising
Caesar Nero until his imperial master ordered him to commit suicide in AD 65).[5] All this to say that Rome, practically-minded
though she was, could allow herself to be convinced by a good argument.
Another
example of “winning over” the Romans through presenting one’s case in
philosophical terms is that of Josephus (AD 37 – 100). Not long after the death of Nero (another
case of suicide), and in the aftermath of the First Jewish War (AD 66 – 73), Josephus
wrote his Antiquities of the Jews for a Roman audience, and spoke of the
“four philosophies” of Judaism – the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Essenes and
the Zealots. Josephus, the
rebel-turned-historian who had commanded Jewish troops in Galilee early in the
war before being captured by General Vespasian, was – needless to say – in a
rather delicate situation. Once assured
that his life would be spared, Josephus became an attaché to Vespasian
(soon to become emperor), eventually settling in Rome and becoming a citizen of
the empire. He wrote about Jewish
history and Judaism using Greco-Roman categories, always careful to portray the
Romans as the heroes[6]
– one might say that he “interpreted” Jewish culture for his Roman readership.
Diogenes
and his colleagues seem to have established a precedent for explaining things
“philosophically” to the Romans, a strategy that Luke – situated as he is
between Diogenes and Josephus – seems to have adopted. In many ways, Luke presents Paul as a
philosopher, “arguing” (dialegomai) with Jews, Stoics, Epicureans…with
all comers (cf. Ac. 17.17-18; 18.4; 19.8-9; 24.25). “Wise as a serpent…” (cf. Mt. 10.16).
[1] Indeed, the book of Acts
is replete with “catch-phrases” from Plato’s Apology of Socrates (e.g.
Ac. 4.18-20). Of course, in the case of
Paul, Luke ultimately failed.
[2] I.e. Stoicism, Epicureanism,
Skepticism and Cynicism.
[3] The other half of the charge
was having introduced “foreign divinities” to Athens (cf. Ac. 17.18). This amounted to a charge of “impiety”, i.e.
lack of respect for the established gods of the city. This lends a different flavour to Luke’s
account of Paul appearing before the Athenian council on the Areopagus; it
wasn’t simply that Paul had been invited to give a lecture – Paul’s appearance
had rather the nature of a “hearing”, the results of which could have been much
more dangerous than they turned out to be…
[4] Cf. Ryan Holiday, Lives of
the Stoics, London: Profile Books, 2020, pp. 54-63.
[5] This was a common fate of
influential people who fell out of favour with “the powers that be” of the
ancient world. Often, once such a
sentence had been pronounced, the victim would attempt to stage their death so
as to resemble that of Socrates, who, thanks to Plato, had acquired the
reputation of having died as a “martyr” of truth. Interestingly, Nero also ordered the
execution of Paul – and, apparently, Peter – around this time.
[6] During the siege of Jerusalem
in AD 70, and while he was serving as translator to the Roman commanders,
Josephus even told Vespasian that Yahweh, the god of the Jews, had abandoned
his people and had chosen Vespasian to become emperor of Rome!
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