Paul’s ‘Spirit of Adoption’ in its Roman Imperial Context 9780567663887, 9780567663900, 9780567663894

Table of contents :
Cover
Half-title
Title
Copyright
Contents
Acknowledgements
Abbreviations
Chapter 1. ‘A Spirit of Adoption’
Introduction
Methodological considerations
Determination of influence: Echoes, allusions and overlaps
A new assessment of Paul’s argument given the destination of Paul’s letter
The plan for the work ahead …
Conclusion
Chapter 2. Paul, Rome, Politics, and Religion
Modern scholarship on Paul and Romans 8
Modern scholarship on Paul and politics in the first-century
Modern scholarship on Roman religion
Studies on Paul and the metaphor of adoption in Romans
Modern scholarship on Pauline pneumatology
Conclusion
Chapter 3. The Roman Imperial Context: Politics, Religion and Family
Introduction
Adoption and family in the Roman Imperial context
From Julius Caesar to Octavian: Divine honours, adoption and Imperial strategy
Adoption to Augustus, the political and religious reconstruction of Augustan Rome
Adoption and a plan for succession
Genius and Numen in Roman religion
The genius in Roman religion and the Imperial cult
The representation of genius in Roman art
Numen
Roman household religion: A social location for Paul
Sources for Roman domestic religion
A description of Roman domestic religion
Other domestic religious imagery
Civic Imperial Iconography
Roads and city design
The Res Gestae
Temples, inscriptions and dedications to the Imperial cult in Rome
Numismatics as a testimony to Imperial ideology
Conclusion
Chapter 4. Romans 1–5 and Paul’s Imperial ‘Household’
Introduction
Identifying Paul’s gentile readership for his Roman letter
Reconstructing the origins of Paul’s Roman audience
Reimagining the Roman household
The literary context of Romans and Paul’s audience
Paul’s gentile audience in Romans 1–3
Abraham: The forefather of Jews and Gentiles
The advent of peace and representative figures
Chapter 5. Romans 6–8.11: Paul’s household metaphors
Romans 6: Co-burial and co-crucifixion: Slaves in Imperial context
Co-burial and funerary arrangements
Co-crucified: A slave’s punishment
Manumission and the household
Romans 7: A wedding, a funeral, and a desperate situation
Paul’s Language about the Law in Romans
Romans 7.1- 6, a wedding and a funeral
Adultery and Augustan values
Adultery on the grandest stage and the smaller stage
Romans 7.7-25 and the plight of the gentile God-fearer
Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ in Romans
The foundation for legitimacy in Romans 8
Conclusion
Chapter 6. ‘The Spirit of Adoption’ in its Roman Imperial Context
Introduction
Paul’s use of πνεῦμα
Romans 8.12-17: The spirit of adoption
New indebtedness
Romans 8.13: The choice between life and death
Romans 8.14: The leading of the spirit as a key to new ‘family’ status
Romans 8.14 and the Imperial household
Romans 8.15: A spirit of slavery or a spirit of adoption
Romans 8.16: A witness
Romans 8.17: Fellow heirs in glory
Conclusion
Romans 8.18-30: The Future aspect of the present adoption
Conclusion
Bibliography
Index of Ancient Sources
Index of Modern Writers

Citation preview

LIBRARY OF NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES

545 formerly the Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement series

Editor Chris Keith

Editorial Board Dale C. Allison, John M. G. Barclay, Lynn H. Cohick, R. Alan Culpepper, Craig A. Evans, Robert Fowler, Simon J. Gathercole, John S. Kloppenborg, Michael Labahn, Love L. Sechrest, Robert Wall, Steve Walton, Catrin H. Williams

Paul’s ‘Spirit of Adoption’ in its Roman Imperial Context

Robert Brian Lewis

T&T CLARK Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA BLOOMSBURY, T&T CLARK and the T&T Clark logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2016 Paperback edition first published 2018 Copyright © Robert Brian Lewis, 2016 Robert Brian Lewis has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. For legal purposes the Acknowledgements on p. viii constitute an extension of this copyright page. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Lewis, Robert Brian. Paul’s “spirit of adoption” in its Roman Imperial context / Robert Brian Lewis. pages cm Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-0-567-66388-7 (hardback) 1. Bible. Romans, VIII, 12-17. 2. Adoption (Theology)–Biblical teaching. 3. Adoption (Theology)–History of doctrines. I. Title. BS2665.52.L49 2016 227’.106–dc23 2015019127 ISBN: HB: 978-0-56766-388-7 PB: 978-0-56768-448-6 ePDF: 978-0-56766-389-4 Series: Library of New Testament Studies, volume 545 Typeset by Fakenham Prepress Solutions, Fakenham, Norfolk NR21 8NN To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

CONTENTS Acknowledgements Abbreviations

viii ix

Chapter 1 ‘A SPIRIT OF ADOPTION’1 Introduction1 Methodological considerations 5 Determination of influence: Echoes, allusions and overlaps 10 A new assessment of Paul’s argument given the destination of Paul’s letter 13 The plan for the work ahead … 17 Conclusion18 Chapter 2 PAUL, ROME, POLITICS, AND RELIGION 19 Modern scholarship on Paul and Romans 8 19 Modern scholarship on Paul and politics in the first-century 24 Modern scholarship on Roman religion 28 Studies on Paul and the metaphor of adoption in Romans 34 Modern scholarship on Pauline pneumatology 37 Conclusion41 Chapter 3 43 THE ROMAN IMPERIAL CONTEXT: POLITICS, RELIGION AND FAMILY Introduction43 Adoption and family in the Roman Imperial context 44 From Julius Caesar to Octavian: Divine honours, adoption and Imperial strategy 45 Adoption to Augustus, the political and religious reconstruction of Augustan Rome 50 Adoption and a plan for succession 54 Genius and Numen in Roman religion 56 The genius in Roman religion and the Imperial cult 58 The representation of genius in Roman art 65 Numen67 Roman household religion: A social location for Paul 71 Sources for Roman domestic religion 72 A description of Roman domestic religion 73

vi Contents

Other domestic religious imagery 78 Civic Imperial Iconography 80 Roads and city design 80 The Res Gestae83 Temples, inscriptions and dedications to the Imperial cult in Rome85 Numismatics as a testimony to Imperial ideology 90 Conclusion95 Chapter 4 97 ROMANS 1–5 AND PAUL’S IMPERIAL ‘HOUSEHOLD’ Introduction97 Identifying Paul’s gentile readership for his Roman letter 99 Reconstructing the origins of Paul’s Roman audience 100 Reimagining the Roman household 102 The literary context of Romans and Paul’s audience 103 Paul’s gentile audience in Romans 1–3 105 Abraham: The forefather of Jews and Gentiles 108 The advent of peace and representative figures 111 Chapter 5 ROMANS 6–8.11: PAUL’S HOUSEHOLD METAPHORS 117 Romans 6: Co-burial and co-crucifixion: Slaves in Imperial context 117 Co-burial and funerary arrangements 117 Co-crucified: A slave’s punishment 119 Manumission and the household 122 Romans 7: A wedding, a funeral, and a desperate situation 125 Paul’s Language about the Law in Romans 125 Romans 7.1- 6, a wedding and a funeral 127 Adultery and Augustan values 128 Adultery on the grandest stage and the smaller stage 129 Romans 7.7-25 and the plight of the gentile God-fearer 133 Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ in Romans 140 The foundation for legitimacy in Romans 8 144 Conclusion151 Chapter 6 ‘THE SPIRIT OF ADOPTION’ IN ITS ROMAN IMPERIAL CONTEXT 153 Introduction153 Paul’s use of πνεῦμα 156 Romans 8.12-17: The spirit of adoption 166 New indebtedness 166 Romans 8.13: The choice between life and death 169 Romans 8.14: The leading of the spirit as a key to new ‘family’ status 171

Contents

vii

Romans 8.14 and the Imperial household 174 Romans 8.15: A spirit of slavery or a spirit of adoption 177 Romans 8.16: A witness 185 Romans 8.17: Fellow heirs in glory 187 Conclusion192 Romans 8.18-30: The Future aspect of the present adoption 192 Conclusion195 Bibliography197 Index of Ancient Sources 213 Index of Modern Writers 219

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to thank the many people who have helped in so many different ways while I have worked to complete this dissertation. First, I want to thank my wife Teadora, and our children Rachel, Becca, and Ryan. They have been partners with me in this endeavor. I am grateful for the blessing of their love and support all along the way. John Wesley referred to himself as a ‘brand plucked from the burning’ in reference to his rescue from a burning parsonage. I feel that way, myself, and I want to thank my Doktorvater and dissertation director, Dr. Larry Welborn for coming alongside of me at a time when the opportunity for the project was in question. If he had chosen to go in a different direction, the present study simply would not have been possible. With Dr. Welborn, I want to thank Dr. Ben Dunning and Dr. Michael Peppard, who read draft after draft and provided strategic recommendations to push me further. It was in a conversation with Dr. Peppard where a timely scribble on a napkin translated into an insight into Paul’s world that I had previously not known. I would like to thank the people of the Gibbsboro United Methodist Church who graciously allowed me to work on this dissertation while in ministry. They sat through sermons, Bible studies, and potluck dinner discussions about Paul and Paul’s letter to the Romans all the while showing genuine interest and enthusiasm for this dissertation. They also provided timely financial assistance to me to help with academic expenses. Specifically, I want to thank Ms. Verna Powell who read the manuscript and provided feedback that was extremely valuable. I also want to thank the congregation of the Blackwood United Methodist Church. As Paul states in Romans 11.36: αὐτῷ ἡ δόξα εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας, ἀμήν.

ABBREVIATIONS AB ANRW

Anchor Bible Aufstieg und Niedergang auf de römische Welt: Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung. Edited by H. Temporini and W. Haase. Berlin 1972– AUSS Andrews University Seminary Studies BA Biblical Archaeologist BDAG Walter Bauer, W. F. Arndt, F. W. Gingrich and F. W. Danker, A GreekEnglish Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. Chicago, 2000 BDF Friedrich Blass, A. Debruner and R. W. Funk, A Greek Grammar of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. Chicago, 1961 BIB Biblica BSAC Bibliotheca sacra CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly CIL Corpus inscriptonum latinarum EXPTIM Expository Times FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments HTR Harvard Theological Review HUT Hermeneutische Untersuchungen zur Theologie ICC International Critical Commentary INT Interpretation JBL Journal of Biblical Literature JSJ Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Periods JSNT Journal for the Study of the New Testament KEK Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament (Meyer-Kommentar) LCL Loeb Classical Library LIMC Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae. Edited by H. C. Ackerman and J.-R. Gisler. 8 vols. Zurich, 1981–97 LSJ Liddel, H. G., R. Scott and H. S. Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon. 9th edn with revised supplement. Oxford, 1996 MAAR Memoirs of the Ancient Academy of Rome MM Moulton, J. H., and G. Milligan. The Vocabulary of the Greek Testament. London, 1930. Reprint, Peabody, MA, 1997 NEWDOCS New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity. Edited by G. H. R. Horsley and S. Llewelyn. North Ryde, NSW, 1981– NIB New Interpreters Bible NICNT New International Commentary on the New Testament

x Abbreviations NOVT NTS OCD OLD RAC SP SBLDS TDNT WBC WUNT

Novum Testamentum New Testament Studies Oxford Classical Dictionary. Edited by S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth. 3rd edn. Oxford, 1996 Oxford Latin Dictionary. Edited by P. G. W. Glare. Oxford, 1982 Reallexicon für Antike und Christentum. Edited by T. Kluser et al. Stuttgart, 1950– Sacra Pagina Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. Edited by G. Kittel and G. Friedrich. Translated by G. W. Bromiley. 10 vols. Grand Rapids, 1964–76 Word Biblical Commentary Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament

Chapter 1 ‘A S P I R I T O F A D O P T IO N ’

Introduction The first-century Roman Imperial context best explains Paul’s use of the phrase ‘Spirit of adoption’ in Romans 8.15 and represents a careful construction that emphasizes the full and equal inclusion of the Gentiles among the people of God.1 While there have been many proposals concerning Paul’s logic in Romans, the connection between ‘Spirit’ and ‘adoption’ has not been clarified. In his recent commentary on Romans, Robert Jewett states, ‘The innovation in Romans is to redefine sonship as derived from having received the Spirit of God … Whether this link between Spirit and divine sonship developed in pre-Pauline Christian baptismal rituals, or whether it is a distinctive contribution of Pauline theology, remains unclear.’2 In the Roman Imperial context, family represented the full connection with the rest of society. When Paul uses the metaphor of adoption and connects that metaphor with the family status of the people of God, it is a piece of rhetoric designed not only to question the Imperial context where the letter is addressed but also to point to the ultimate source of status and relationship, the people constituted by Messiah Jesus. Paul’s ambassadorial relationship with the Gentile churches in Greece and Asia Minor provided him the exposure to the way that Augustan propaganda had spread throughout the known world and had nourished a narrative of divine provenance that made Augustus one of the gods. The recently empowered Nero sought to reclaim the glory of Augustus and the Roman Empire. Nero brought new expectations of a golden age that Paul directly calls into question.3 1. Unless noted otherwise, translations of the Biblical text are from the New Revised Standard Version. 2.  Robert Jewett, Romans: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2007), 497. 3. David Shotter, Nero (London: Routledge, 1997), 21. Shotter quotes from the Oxyrhychus Papyrus 1021, ‘dated 17 November ad 54, [that] encapsulated the hope: “The Caesar who has honoured his debt to his ancestors, who is a god manifest, has gone to them; the expectation and hope of all the world has been proclaimed Emperor; the good genius

2

Paul’s ‘Spirit of Adoption’ in its Roman Imperial Context

When Paul decides to use the adoption metaphor, he is recalling the powerful metaphor of adoptive succession that was instrumental in the preservation of Roman power. Simply using the term ‘adoption’ (υἱοθεσία) would have brought to mind the institution that preserved the Julio-Claudian line. The institution of adoption had been used in the most significant political move, to that point in human history, when Octavian became Julius Caesar’s son through testamentary adoption. Using the term ‘spirit’ with adoption would have also evoked an image from Imperial propaganda where the numen, divine power, was celebrated and venerated throughout the Empire through the sacrifice to the Emperor’s genius or guardian spirit/ family spirit. Paul’s Roman audience most certainly would have heard the metaphor of adoption against this backdrop. Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor in Romans 8.12-17 signals to Paul’s Gentile readership that their status as children of God was not illegitimate but validated and effected by God.4 Paul uses household metaphors all through the key texts of Romans in order to convince his audience that they were newly and legitimately constituted among the people of God. Images of slavery, marriage, funerals, adoption, and even sibling rivalry contribute to move Paul’s argument and substantiate Paul’s claims to equal status of Gentile believers along with Jews in the family of God. What is required for a proper evaluation of Paul’s message to his Roman readers in Romans 8.12-17 is a synthesis between three circles of data. The text of Romans is primary. Examining what Paul wrote, of course, is fundamental to the interpretation. This is not as easy as it would appear. Layers and layers of interpretive ground must be excavated to get a fresh look at the text. Even the best interpreters, when faced with the enormity of the task, become involved with digging along one level or another, as they move toward the text. Getting to the heart of the text and attempting to hear the text from the vantage point of the first-century is essential. The first overlay that helps to dig through to the first-century context is the circle of Roman Imperial politics of Paul’s day. Paul lived and worked and travelled in the Roman Empire. Travelling from city to city along Roman roads and through the Roman gates of Roman colonies, Paul would have been familiar with the implicit and explicit political narratives of the day. These narratives resulted in powerful responses among people groups in both the East and the West, ranging of the world and the beginning of all great and good things, Nero, has been proclaimed Caesar. So wearing garlands and making sacrifice of oxen we must all pay our thanks to all the Gods. Issued in the 1st year of Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, on the 21st of the month Neos Sebastos.”’ See also, K. R. Bradley, Suetonius’ Life of Nero: an Historical Commentary (Bruxelles: Latomus, 1978). 4.  When I use the term ‘Gentiles’ in this book I am thinking of the Gentile God-fearers or Gentile believers that comprise Paul’s audience. I do not intend to argue that Paul incorporates all of the Gentiles, regardless of their faith. Paul does not differentiate between Gentiles, Gentile God-fearers, or Gentile believers. I try to balance the uses of these terms throughout this book to accord to the best sense of Paul’s letter.



‘A Spirit of Adoption’

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from veneration to disdain. Paul’s mission work would have exposed him to the way that people responded to the messages of the Empire. Tarsus was not an insignificant social location. If Acts is to be trusted, then Paul’s birthplace is in the city where Antony and Cleopatra first met.5 It can be conjectured that Paul’s acquaintance with the story and outcome of Augustus’ rise to power began at birth. How thoroughly familiar must Paul have been with the images, narrative, symbols, and propaganda of the Empire as he travelled? Paul’s own voice concerning this background only comes through in veiled references. He speaks of obedience to governing authorities in Romans 13.1-7, for example, and outside of Romans, Paul uses images of the games (certainly Imperial in nature) in Philippians 3.12-16; 4.22, and 1 Corinthians 9.24-27.6 The extant letters of Paul show only a small fraction of what would have been known to him. The data that can be absorbed from the first-century Imperial context provides further evidence of what additional material Paul may have known. In addition, it can easily be maintained that this was the same background and data that Paul’s audience would have known. The Roman Imperial narrative had many outlets for dissemination. While there was no television crew operating in the first-century, edicts, inscriptions, statuary, coinage, temples, and literature all provided clear evidence of the pervasive nature of the Empire throughout the world. The narrative that would have been most familiar to the population groups in the cities was that of the Julio-Claudian line. After Julius Caesar’s unexpected rise to power, a last conspiracy attempted to put the reins of the Empire back into the hands of the senate. Caesar’s overwhelming popularity among the plebs, however, along with the carefully chosen path of his adopted son Octavian, ended with a further consolidation of power and wealth that virtually ended the senate’s influence. Octavian became Augustus. His ‘restoration’ of the republic resulted in a frantic effort to secure an heir. Upon the death of his grandsons, who had become his adopted sons, Augustus settled upon Tiberius and adopted him as his successor. The chain of succession was preserved through the convention of adoption. After Tiberius, Gaius assumed control, and then Claudius after him, without such convention, but Nero rose to power precisely through the engineered adoption by Claudius at the instigation of Nero’s mother, Agrippina. The two emperors who exercised the most influence during the course of Paul’s life were involved at the highest levels of power because of their incorporation within the Imperial 5. C. B. R. Pelling, ‘Antonius Marcus’, OCD, eds. Simon Hornblower and Antony Spawforth (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 115. 6. See Edgar Krentz, ‘Paul, Games, and the Military’, in Paul in the Greco-Roman World: A Handbook, ed. J. Paul Sampley (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 2003), 344–83. See also, David Potter, ‘Spectacle’, in A Companion to the Roman Empire, ed. David Potter (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006), 385–408. I view Romans 13.1–7 as Pauline but Helmut Koester represents sees a possibility here of a non-Pauline interpolation. See Helmut Koester, Introduction to the New Testament (vol. 2): History and literature of early Christianity (New York: Walter de Gruyter: 2000), 54.

4

Paul’s ‘Spirit of Adoption’ in its Roman Imperial Context

family through adoption.7 The Emperors who began the transition from Republic to Empire, Julius and Augustus, were also mutually connected through adoption. Adoption was particularly connected to the story of the Empire and must be examined next to the Pauline context in order to understand Paul’s use of the metaphor in Romans 8. Equally important, and almost entirely overlooked, however, is the second overlay that must be examined to interpret Romans 8 to more clearly understand what Paul argues for and to discern what Paul’s audience most certainly heard. Roman religion provides a necessary lens through which Paul’s metaphor of adoption can be connected to his choice of the word ‘Spirit’ in Romans 8.15.8 Other than James Harrison, Michael Peppard, and to a lesser extent, John Dominic Crossan, I am unaware of interpreters of Paul who have given Roman religion a significant hearing in reference to Romans 8.9 Only a synthesis of these three crucial areas will show the significance of and possibilities for Paul’s choice of the phrase ‘Spirit of adoption’ in Romans 8.15. Understanding Paul’s intention and his audience’s familiarity with the metaphor and the convention of adoption may also yield unexpected answers to some thorny exegetical questions from the argument of Romans as a whole. Paul’s metaphor of adoption, his context within the Imperial political narrative, and his familiarity with Roman religion are determinative for his use of household metaphors throughout Romans to provide evidence for the full inclusion of the Gentiles among the people of God. Perhaps one of the most well known texts in Western civilization has a component that has yet to be fully grasped and applied. The reasons for this are fairly straightforward. The hermeneutics of Augustine and Luther became determinative in the interpretation of Romans.10 The transition from Rome to Constantinople, and all this involved, resulted in a dismissal of the original Roman Imperial context from actively being engaged in the interpretation of the letter. The specific situation of Paul’s letter to the Romans became dislodged from the letter 7. See Herbert Nesselhauf ’s article, ‘Die Adoption des Römischen Kaisers’, Hermes 83 (1955): 477–95. 8. I use the term ‘religion’ throughout this book as a reference to the conventions, objects, and symbols of Roman worship. Even though I use the term, I do not intend to view it as somehow discrete from the rest of the ancient world. Religion and politics go together but for the purposes of discussion, I separate them to point to places where religious practice and politics become separated in scholarly debate. 9. See James R. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities at Thessalonica and Rome: A Study in the Conflict of Ideology, WUNT 273 (Tübingen, Germany: Mohr Siebeck, 2011); Michael Peppard, The Son of God in the Roman World: Divine Sonship in Its Social and Political Context (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011); and John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed, In Search of Paul: How Jesus’ Apostle Opposed Rome’s Empire with God’s Kingdom (New York, NY: HarperSanFrancisco, 2004). 10. For a recent review of many of these issues see Douglas Campbell, The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009).



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itself and the intentions of the author, given the rhetoric and the specific contents of the letter, became subsumed underneath a narrative of doctrine.11 The original purpose and message of Romans, when reclaimed in its fullness, can be a powerful picture of the plan and purpose of God, as described by the apostle to the Gentiles.

Methodological considerations The investigation into how Paul conceived of the connection between Spirit and adoption in Romans 8.12-17 requires a synthesis between the three overlapping circles that formed Paul’s identity. Mapping out Paul’s first century world: Jewish, Hellenistic, and Roman, should be compared with the message that Paul constructed in Romans and balanced by the most plausible situation for Paul’s Roman audience. Several methodological considerations are significant to the project. First, I will investigate the level of Paul’s familiarity with the Roman Imperial context. The same investigation must be equally applied to the most likely candidates for Paul’s audience. Second, I will survey the echoes, allusions, and overlaps between Rome and Paul. Finally, this investigation will cast further light upon the logic, plan, and accomplishment of Paul’s letter to the Romans itself. Using the terms ‘politics’ and ‘religion’ as if they are discrete areas for study is anachronistic. In the first-century, there was no boundary between them. As Brent Nongbri has pointed out recently, the modern use of the term ‘religion’ is related to the rise of comparative religions in fifteenth–seventeenth centuries.12 Nonetheless, I will use these terms in this book to alert the reader to the area of Imperial discourse that I have primarily in view. The terms ‘religion’ and ‘politics’ are anachronistic when applied to the ancient world but they remain the only terms that concisely convey the area of culture under scrutiny. In addition, scholars who continue to publish in the field continue to use the terms even if they acknowledge the difficulty. The familiarity of Paul and Paul’s Roman audience with the imperial context How can the level of Paul’s familiarity and that of Paul’s audience, with the Roman Imperial context be determined? Paul’s letters represent one way that a possible connection could be postulated or determined. There were many more ways in which both Paul and Paul’s audience would have become familiar – and indeed saturated with – the Roman Imperial context. 11. Mark Reasoner describes the necessity of remembering that Romans is first of all a letter and not a theological treatise in, Romans in Full Circle: A History of Interpretation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005), Intro., xx. 12. Brent Nongbri, Before Religion: A History of a Modern Concept (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2013), Kindle book, Ch. 1 ‘What do we Mean by “Religion”?’ and Ch. 6 ‘New Worlds, new Religions’. See Jonathan Z. Smith, Relating Religions: Essays in the Study of Religion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004).

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Paul’s ‘Spirit of Adoption’ in its Roman Imperial Context

Everywhere Paul went in the world would have resounded with the talk of the Roman Empire. Cities, roadways, and monuments would, in some way, speak of the influence that the Roman Empire had in the first-century. Other than the Arabia of Galatians 1.17, Paul’s stops were all in the major cities of the Roman east – Asia Minor and Greece. The pervasive influence of the messages of Empire would have easily reached Paul and his audience in a compelling way. Roman ideology propagated itself in a number of ways and with a variety of ancient media. For the Roman elites and the educated nobility throughout the Roman Empire, literature would have been a common way of exposing the population to the kinds of messages that the Empire wanted to publish. Augustus used the court poets Ovid, Virgil, and Horace to spread the language of destiny, inevitability, and the anticipation of a golden age throughout the Empire.13 Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue creates an idyllic scene with power and grace that firmly connects Augustus with his divine adoptive father Julius. Horace and Ovid both create pieces that highlight the importance of Augustus in restoring the glory of Rome. The educated in the Empire would have been familiar with the new mythology of the Aeneid and with the court poetry that was filled with Imperial images and propaganda. Propaganda may not even be the right word to use in order to describe the proliferation of Imperial literature and images. The term ‘propaganda’ gives the impression of a ‘top-down’ dispensation where the leader gives careful direction as to what messages are to be displayed or published and those beneath the leader follow through the publication. The purpose of propaganda is to spread a message that is meant to be overwhelmingly influential for those who experience it. Were Ovid, Horace, and Virgil simply publishing a message that they were forced to write or were they writing a message that they agreed with and that they believed in, in some sense? Did the court poets have freedom of expression or did the messages have a more scripted character? Karl Galinsky does not necessarily think that the messages were entirely scripted. Instead, Galinsky has the opinion that the spread of the Imperial message was more organic.14 Messages of Imperial honour and benefaction travelled in two directions. News of local dedications and honourific statues, temples, and inscriptions got back to Rome in a way that would garner influence with the Emperor, court, and senate. Galinsky’s analysis suggests that Augustan ideology became familiar to people through civic display. Honorary inscriptions and the dedications of temples and statues were not kept quiet or private. In the honour and benefaction society of the early Imperial period, the public display of loyalty in the form of a dedicatory statue or temple was particularly significant to the individual, the city, and the 13.  Karl Galinsky, Augustan Culture (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996), 226–46. 14. Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 1–7. Galinsky takes exception to the kind of situation that Ronald Syme supposes for the beginning of the Empire. Syme tends to see a more dictatorial beginning to Augustus’ reign. See Ronald Syme, The Roman Revolution (London: Oxford University Press, 1960).



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wider province.15 The provision of an Imperial temple within the main square of a city, or better, the complete redesign of a city in the image of the Roman forum, was valuable in the demonstration of Imperial loyalty.16 The supreme signal of Roman Imperial influence was the Res Gestae, the published accomplishments of Augustus, presumably set up throughout the Empire, which was an autobiographical account of his reign. Remarking about the importance of the Res Gestae, Judge writes, ‘The Res Gestae was composed by Augustus to be read in the senate after his death, and subsequently to be engraved upon the bronze tablets attached to the pillars of his mausoleum on the Campus Martius, beside the Tiber.’17 Judge surmises that the intention of the bronze tablets was to focus the senate on the values and issues that Augustus had raised and was gradually to bring about a common assent for the Imperial program from the residents of Rome who would surely visit his mausoleum in the years following his death. This was not the only intention for the published transcript of Augustus’ accomplishments. The Res Gestae was to be published all over the Empire for the same purposes as its erection in Rome.18 In the Galatian province, for example, there are multiple copies existing in Latin and Greek for the inhabitants of the major cities. While it may not be entirely certain, it seems plausible and probable that Paul would have come across a copy of the Res Gestae in Pisidia or Ankara, or possibly even Corinth, and that Paul’s audience would have been familiar with the original bronze tablets adorning the mausoleum. In Roman cities (or the Greek cities fashioned after the Roman style) everything pointed to the Imperial temples.19 It would have been impossible for Paul or anyone else in Paul’s audience in Rome to miss the messages of domination, rule, 15. Simon Price, Rituals and Power: The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (London: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 133–69. See also Niels Hannestad, Roman Art and Imperial Policy (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1988), and D. Favro, ‘Making Rome a World City’, in The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Augustus, ed. Karl Galinsky (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 234–63. 16. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities, 165. 17.  E. A., Judge, The First Christians in the Roman World: Augustan and New Testament Essays, ed. James R. Harrison (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 182. See also, Ronald T. Ridley, ‘The Emperor’s Retrospect: Augustus Res Gestae’ in Epigraphy, Historiography and Commentary (Leuven: Peeters, 2003). 18. Suna Güven, ‘Displaying the Res Gestae of Augustus: A Monument of Imperial Image for All Author(s)’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 57/1 (March 1998): 30–45. 19. Paul Zanker, ‘The City as Symbol: Rome and the Creation of an Urban Image’, in Romanization and the City: Creation, Transformations, and Failures; Proceedings of a conference held at the American Academy in Rome to Celebrate the 50th Anniversary of the Excavations at Cosa, 14–16 May, 1998, ed. Elizabeth Fentress (Portsmouth: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 2000): 25–42, 27. With more in respect to the establishment of cities see: C. Gates, Ancient Cities: The Archaeology of Urban Life in the Ancient Near East and Egypt, Greece and Rome (London: Routledge, 2003), 335–80.

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and the sense of divine manifest blessing that the Imperial temples, the statuary, and certainly the arches represented in the cities of the wider Empire and most certainly in Rome.20 As Paul travelled with his companions, it would have been impossible for them to have missed these messages and quite unlikely that they evaluated the messages that were conveyed in neutral terms. Where there are temples and sacred spaces, there is worship. It must be further accepted that if Paul and his Roman audience were exposed to the city plan and to the temples that were the focal point of the city plan, Paul must certainly have been familiar with the rituals of the Empire and the rituals of the various cults that the Empire supported and used for the cause of unification.21 Temples were not like modern cathedrals or churches. Roman temples were usually open to full public view. In the center of the temple sat the god, in the form of an honorary statue, and in the surrounding spaces, other iconography that was to be mutually identified would be housed. Paul Zanker notes the importance of the physical space: ‘Architectural uniformity on the sacred grounds is of secondary importance: in general, the main room forms the center of the precinct. It closes off the open square in front of it and is axially aligned with the entrance. The visual perspective guiding the eye is reinforced by framing porticos, water fountains, and symmetrical staircases and ramps… the characteristic architectural configuration – the free standing temple on a high podium with a stepped approach at the front and an altar protruding at right angles – is joined by chapels and sanctuaries, roadside and domestic shrines, burial sites, … synagogues, and clubhouses.’22

Vitruvius, one of the Augustan architects, advocated for the placement of sacred spaces with the best view of the city. The site would be impressive to worshippers and would provide visitors with an experience of awe in light of the structure.23 Anyone walking by might observe sacrifices and religious activities that were performed either in the temple itself or just outside the temple. Religious 20. Brigitte Kahl makes this connection for Paul’s letter to the Galatians. She imagines the impact of the statue of the Dying Trumpeter in Pergamon for a Galatian audience. Brigitte Kahl, Galatians Re-Imagined: Reading with the Eyes of the Vanquished (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2010). 21.  See John Fotopoulos, Food Offered to Idols in Roman Corinth, WUNT 151 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003). 22.  Ulrike Egelhaaf-Gaiser, ‘Roman Cult Sites: A Pragmatic Approach’, in A Companion to Roman Religion, ed. Jörg Rüpke (Oxford: Blackwood Publishing, 2007), 205–21, 206. Egelhaaf-Gaiser also refers to Heidi Hänlein-Schäfer, Veneratio Augusti: eine Studie zu den Tempeln des ersten römischen Kaisers (Roma: G. Bretschneider, 1985). 23. Egelhaaf-Gaiser, ‘Roman Cult Sites’, 209, citing Vitruvius, 4.5.2. On the public view of sacred space, see Diane Favro, The Urban Image of Augustan Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).



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sites required constant activity. Workshops, storerooms, a water supply, firewood, and space for sacrifice and feast required daily and hourly activity that would have necessitated much public work.24 All of this work would have been in plain sight for those in the city – in fact, it was intended to be observed in this way.25 Paul’s letters demonstrate his acquaintance with the feasts and the practice of sacrifice in connection with other religions. Regularly Paul discusses eating habits, and more often than not, he is giving instructions on what to do with meat that was sacrificed to an idol. Whether the idol represented a cult, god, or Imperial representative is not altogether relevant to Paul. He never specifies the recipient of the sacrifice. Importantly, Paul seems to afford liberty to believers who find no conflict of conscience in eating food so consecrated (1 Cor. 8.13, 10.25). After the haruspex and his attendants had closely inspected the sacrificial victim, the sacrifice was made, the share was given to the divinity, and the feast was enjoined.26 Importantly for the household, in addition to the meat offering, an offering of sweet wine could be poured out in honour of the Genius Augusti, the guardian spirit of Augustus.27 Another way that Paul and his audience would have become familiar with the images and messages of the Roman Empire was through the very roads that they would have had to take to get to any of the cities with these large, imposing, Imperial temples. Mile markers all along the way would tell of the distance from Rome, the province represented, ruling Emperor, and, at an intersection of three roads, a digest of recent news.28 Travelling along Roman roads was often an exercise in risk management, since all along the routes, the Roman armies maintained post houses and Imperial service stations. Permits were required to be on the major routes. Travelling from city to city, Paul may have been exposed to the travel strictures, the mile markers, and the armies along the travel routes. The roads had a purpose. They connected every city, all the trade routes, and afforded quick travel for the army to get to wherever they were needed. Both road construction and maintenance testified to the Imperial power that was exercised over 55,000 miles.29 24. Egelhaaf-Gaiser, ‘Roman Cult Sites’, 211. 25.  John Scheid, ‘Sacrifices for Gods and Ancestors’, in A Companion to Roman Religion, ed. Jörg Rüpke (Oxford: Blackwood Publishing, 2007), 26–72, 272. Scheid states, ‘Sacrifice was at the heart of most acts of cult worship … Sacrifices took place in an open space, in front of the community concerned.’ (Scheid, ‘Sacrifices for Gods and Ancestors’, 263). 26. Scheid, ‘Sacrifices for Gods and Ancestors’, 266. 27. Scheid, ‘Sacrifices for Gods and Ancestors’, 268. 28. Logan Thompson, ‘Roman Roads’, History Today 47/2 (February 1997): 21–8, 26. For an example of a road that coordinates with a port, see Martha W. Baldwin Bowsky and Vanna Niniou-Kindeli, ‘On the Road Again: A Trajanic Milestone and the Road Connections of Aptera, Crete’, Hesperia 75/3 (July–September, 2006): 405–33. 29. For more in connection with Paul and his use of Roman roads see Wayne Meeks, The First Urban Christians (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983), 43.

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In addition to literature, iconography, city planning, and roadwork, Roman coins were a further testimony to the control and the intended message that the Empire wished to display.30 At many points in Rome’s history, coins were issued to acclaim a particular event, the construction or the completion of a temple, a military victory, or simply the grandeur of the one issuing the coin. After Julius Caesar was assassinated and Octavian was adopted, one of the first things Octavian did to solidify his position and indicate his status was the issue of coin series that identified Octavian as the divi filius, or son of a god.31 Prior to this, many coins bore the image of a favourite general along with a god with which the general wished to be identified. Paul and his audience in Rome would have been keenly aware of the ways in which the messages on the coins and the messages of the ones responsible were at odds with the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ.32 All of this media, when scrutinized, can yield a context both for Paul and his audience in Rome that will aid in the interpretation of Paul’s letter to the Romans. Determination of influence: Echoes, allusions, and overlaps The determination of what constitutes an overlap in ideology between Paul and the Imperial context can be difficult. In his text, Paul in Fresh Perspective, N. T. Wright describes a part of the conceptual task that must be accomplished. Wright describes the three worlds that Paul must move in and through in the firstcentury.33 The first ‘world’ that Wright describes is the world of Second-Temple Judaism. Wright notes that Second-Temple Judaism has garnered more scholarly energy in the last fifty years than in the entire preceding 1,500 years! Paul’s world was inextricably bound up with the reading and interpretation of Torah. Reading and hearing from the Torah also required obedience to the injunctions of Torah, the practice of worship in the Temple and synagogue, and the theological presuppositions that the Hebrew Bible presumes to be true about Israel’s God. All of these aspects of Judaism are essential in understanding Paul. Richard Hays has given language to the way in which Paul is examined against the background

30.  For numismatic evidence as it pertains to the New Testament see L. Joseph Kreitzer, Striking New Images: Roman Imperial Coinage and the New Testament (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996); and Richard Oster, ‘Numismatic Windows into the Social World of Early Christianity: A Methodological Inquiry’, JBL 101/2 (June 1982): 195–223 and ‘“Show me a denarius”: Symbolism of Roman Coinage and Christian Beliefs’, Restoration Quarterly 28/2 (1985–6): 107–15. 31.  Lily Ross Taylor, The Divinity of the Roman Emperor (Philadelphia: Porcupine Press, 1975), 106. 32.  For references to the way in which Revelation 13 may depict such a reaction to Nero, see Deborah Furlan Taylor, ‘The Monetary Crisis in Revelation 13.17 and the Provenance of the Book of Revelation’, CBQ 71/3 (July 2009): 580–96; and David Aune, Revelation 6–16, WBC 52b (Dallas: Word, 1998), 732–81. 33. N. T. Wright, Paul in Fresh Perspective (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005), 3.



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of Second-Temple Judaism and the texts that remain central in the search.34 The ‘echoes’ one hears in Paul seem to grow constantly. The hearing, however, may not be as much about Paul as it is about the currents within the first-century. There are other worlds that influenced Paul. Paul, as Acts describes, was from Tarsus.35 The city itself was a crossroad between the world of Paul’s faith and the world of Paul’s spoken language. Paul’s world was Hellenistic. His own letters testify to his use of Greek and his familiarity with the Septuagint. Paul is able to quote long sections of the text verbatim. Paul’s Hellenism was not only related to his Jewish faith; it also reflects the Hellenism of the philosophers, as well. Paul can make arguments that are compelling and sophisticated. While not quite identical with Epictetus, Paul can certainly argue in his style. For example, in his assessment of anthropology, Paul is comfortable in working in an environment rich in Stoicism.36 Paul’s philosophical and cultural Hellenism was also influenced by the Roman Empire.37 The Roman Republic had lost its position of influence underneath the enormous weight of Augustan auctoritas. Paul was born into this environment. This Imperial context, as described above, played a pivotal role in Paul’s formation and most certainly impacted his ability to fulfill God’s call on his life. These three spheres of influence that are critical to Paul’s formation would not have been easily separated. Richard Hays’ description of what might constitute a literary dependence, an echo, or an allusion in Paul, might be equally well applied to the perceived influences on Paul from the Imperial context. Hays suggests seven key components for ascribing a correspondence or an echo in Paul from a previous resource. The source of the echo would have to be available to author and the audience.38 An echo must have volume that is gauged by the way themes, words, and patterns are explicitly reinforced and repeated.39 Echoes recur over a variety of contexts and demonstrate a thematic unity. Echoes are historically plausible, fit into the history of interpretation and are satisfactory to the exegete.40 Hays’ work is applied to the texts of Scripture. He is attempting to demonstrate 34. Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989). 35. An assessment of Luke’s contribution and the historical data at issue is given by Richard Pervo in Luke’s Story of Paul (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990), 84. See also, Harold Clark Kee, Franklin W. Young, and Karlfried Froehlich, Understanding the New Testament (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 1973), 397. 36. For Paul’s Stoic dependence or, at least, familiarity, see Troels Engberg-Pedersen, Paul in His Hellenistic Context (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995), Paul and the Stoics (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000), and Cosmology and Self in the Apostle Paul: The Material Spirit (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010). 37. Wright, Paul in Fresh Perspective, 62. 38. Hays, Echoes of Scripture, 29. 39. Hays, Echoes of Scripture, 30. 40. Hays, Echoes of Scripture, 30–1.

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the deep familiarity with the Scripture that Paul shows in the composition and argument of his letters. These seven criteria can be applied to more confidently argue Paul used Imperial ideology – even in a subversive way – to support and coordinate the argument that he makes, the message that he communicates, and the mission that he engages. Certainly in the Imperial context of the urban areas in the Greek east, there was an enormous amount of material available to Paul. Paul and his audience would have easily understood the messages and the symbols of Empire. The interpretive task associated with these Imperial ‘echoes’ in Paul might require more support than Hays deems as necessary since the evidence in the history of interpretation may not show an awareness of the connections that would have been so easily understood by a first-century audience. Further, Paul’s use of Imperial imagery, symbols, terms, and even narratives will shift the way that Paul’s arguments are understood in the literary context. Old interpretations, unfamiliar with an Imperial context, might have to be exchanged for new ones. The category of ‘echo’ in Pauline scholarship may have become a little overused. The criteria, while potentially very helpful in regard to the Roman Imperial context, might be stretched thin where ‘echoes’ have given way to parallel after parallel. Brigitte Kahl offers another way of expressing a bit of what Hays advocates. In her book, Galatians Re-imagined: Reading with the Eyes of the Vanquished, Kahl proposes to participate in an exercise of re-imagining for Paul. Kahl states: Critical re-imagination is a method that supplements the traditional set of historical-critical and ideological-critical methodologies. It draws on images and other visual or written sources- including spaces, buildings, performances, and rituals- to deconstruct and reconstruct our perception of the ancient world in its interaction with the ‘word(s)’ of the text. In stark methodological contrast to the prevalent hermeneutical pattern of a dematerialized and disembodied theological reading, critical re-imagination seeks to restore Paul, his Galatian congregations, and their dissention about justification by law or faith to their specific material, sociopolitical, and historical context.41

There is enormous potential in Kahl’s proposal. Handled with dexterity, an exercise in critical re-imagination affords the interpreter with an assortment of lenses that can supplement the traditional interpretations of Biblical scholarship. For Kahl, reimagining Paul and the Galatian audience requires the incorporation of semiotic data that has not played a critical role in the interpretation of the Biblical material in previous scholarship. In an effort to ‘re-imagine’ the originality in Paul’s letter to the Romans, acknowledgement must be given to the difficult task of reading Paul’s letters from their unique, first-century context as opposed to one that reads Romans in light of the various arguments over competing theological claims across the 41. Kahl, Galatians, 32.



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history of the church. Interpretive models for Paul’s letters, Romans especially, have begun to show the importance of the mediated nature of the text. Jameson defines mediation as ‘the relationship between the levels or instances, and the possibility of adapting analyses and findings from one level to another. Mediation is the classical dialectical term for the establishment of relationships between … the formal analysis of a work of art and its social ground, or between the internal dynamics of the political state and its economic ground.’42 Interpretive strategies that wish to avoid the interpretive strangleholds of past approaches and advance notions that may or may not be at home in the text itself should establish the text in its original local context and only then differentiate it from others.43 The Roman Imperial context is the initial background for Paul’s letter to the Romans. It is the dynamic of Imperial ideology, rather than the loyalties to systematic theology, that explains Paul’s letter best. We must be cautious at this point. Parallels, allusions, and echoes do not necessarily indicate dependence. Any number of possible factors (cultural, historical, geographic, political, etc.) can play a role in the intelligibility of a piece of literature. There may not be a genuine correspondence between the text and its cultural environment for either the author or the audience. We must give priority to the most plausible cultural reference points for Paul and Paul’s audience in the interpretive task. A new assessment of Paul’s argument given the destination of Paul’s letter Stanley Stowers has offered a rereading of Romans that attempts to ground the letter and the author in the first-century.44 Stowers builds a case for a reading of Romans that interprets Paul’s allusions and arguments as intended for a Gentile audience. The rereading of Romans outside of the Lutheran or Reformation context yields a fresh appraisal of Paul’s letter. 42. Fredric Jameson, The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1981), 39. I am indebted to Neil Elliott’s reference to a prior section of this text. Elliott advances along a Marxist interpretive line that I am not inclined to move along, at present. Jameson’s work points to the political horizon of all interpretation and coordinates interpretation to its social and symbolic cultural context. (Neil Elliott, The Arrogance of Nations: Reading Romans in the Shadow of Empire (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2008). 43. Jameson, Political Unconscious, 42. 44.  Stanley Kent Stowers, A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994). See also William S. Campbell, Paul in the Creation of Christian Identity (London: T&T Clark, 2008); William S. Campbell, ‘The Addressees of Paul’s Letter to the Romans: Assemblies of God in House Churches and Synagogues’, in Campbell, W. S., Unity and Diversity in Christ: Interpreting Paul in Context (Eugene: Cascade Books, 2013), 146–68; Mark Nanos, The Mystery of Romans: The Jewish Context of Paul’s Letter (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998); and Mark Nanos, ‘To the Churches within the Synagogues of Rome’, in J. L. Sumney, Reading Paul’s Letter to the Romans (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2012), 11–28.

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A reading of Romans 8.12-17 in light of the Roman Imperial context may yield an interpretation of Paul’s letter that explains the pieces of data and Paul’s argument in a distinctively satisfying way. Too many readings of Romans allow for ‘interpolations’ or alternative interpretations whose goal is to force coherence where Paul’s logic seems difficult to follow.45 Can another reading of Romans – through a careful observation of Roman politics, Roman religion, and historical exegesis of Paul’s epistle – render a satisfying portrait of the letter as a whole? Can such a reading provide solutions to otherwise difficult questions? That is the goal. Paul’s letter to the Romans does not contain a specific recipient list. His stated mission in Romans 1 is to ‘bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name …’ (Rom. 1.5). Paul’s letter to the Romans is also an announcement that Paul intends to visit Rome in order to ‘reap some harvest among you as I have among the rest of the Gentiles’ (Rom. 1.13). Of course, the catalogue of names in chapter 16 provides clues to the kind of audience that Paul expects to hear his letter, but the only explicit references made to audience members in the text refer to Gentiles. Romans 11.15 and 15.14-29 reference the Gentiles explicitly. In other places in the letter, Paul lists ‘Jews’ (first) and also ‘Greeks’ or Gentiles. The formulaic appearance in the letter makes it clear that Paul has Gentiles in mind, even if a Jewish audience is reading over their shoulder. In the letter to the Romans, Paul makes the case that Gentile believers ought to be fully included among the people of God and should not, therefore, have misgivings or shame at being so included. The revelation of the gospel is a power of dramatic reversal where God’s justice is demonstrated through the faithfulness of Messiah Jesus for the radical redefinition of the people of God. The universality of humanity’s sinful condition is balanced with a critique, in Chapter 2, of a Gentile God-fearer who is intent on keeping the law. Chapter 3 indicates that everyone, both Gentile and Jew is equally indicted and acquitted because of the faithful action of Jesus and the faithful response from God’s people. Abraham exemplifies the dual nature of faithfulness and faith as a function of inclusion in the people of God in Chapter 4. Paul coordinates the example of Abraham with the clinching argument concerning the full inclusion of Gentile believers with the Jews among the people of God in Chapter 5. It is through the justice of God and the death of Christ that peace has been procured for them. Where they had, at one time, been objects of God’s wrath (1.18–32), they now have become the recipients of a new reconciliation. The costly reconciliation, purchased by virtue of the death of Jesus has fundamentally altered the events that had been on another trajectory because of the representative actions of Adam. Jesus, a new exemplar, has undone Adam’s misdeed and has procured peace with God, once and for all. Paul’s Roman 45.  Robert Jewett provides many examples, including 7.23-25 where the textual tradition and the flow of Paul’s logic seem at odds with one another. Jewett notes that Käsemann and Bultmann both propose that a gloss has been added in 7.23-25 (Jewett, Romans, 456).



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audience has the unexpected joy of receiving the free gift of God’s incredible benefaction because Jesus’ representative actions have procured grace that goes far beyond the results of Adam’s trespass. Jesus’ part in divine generosity brings about the possibility for the full inclusion of Gentile believers in the family of God. This is the crux of Paul’s argument. Paul’s argument may be unexpected for his audience in Rome. Perhaps they had either given up on the possibility of being included among the people of God or perhaps they were preparing to jettison Judaism and move toward a different articulation of the gospel. For Paul, this would be a disaster. Abandoning Judaism and the Scriptures of Judaism would result in a theological loss as well.46 The revelation of Jesus as the Messiah has brought about a new reality for the Gentiles, and this has occurred because of the super-abounding grace of Israel’s God. After making the argument concerning the full inclusion of the Gentiles among the people of God, Paul uses specific arguments and evidence to support his claim. Gathering up some unfinished business from Chapter 2, Paul asserts that the gift of a truly just God ought not manifest itself in lawless behaviour. The gospel message may be ‘Law’-less, but that does not mean that it is lawless. Sin cannot continue because, again in Christ, it has been dethroned and now believers are included within the scope of God’s redemptive work in a truly liberating way. In Chapter 6, Paul uses the metaphor of slavery and indicates that those who have been constituted as God’s people are no longer enslaved to sin.47 They have been liberated to be enslaved to God’s righteousness. Slavery, an important and prominent feature in Roman civic and domestic life, provides a rich illustration for Paul, regarding the kind of life that believers are now instructed to live – Gentile and Jew together. The first evidentiary claim that Paul uses in Chapter 6 is the knowledge of freedom and the liberation from sin for believers. Chapter 7 provides evidence for Paul’s assertion for the equal status of Jew and Gentile drawn from the participatory nature that believers share in Jesus’ death through baptism. The metaphor of marriage is used to illustrate the effective nature of the death of Jesus. This specific action gives rise to the free gift of God’s grace, removing the penalty and obligation of the old written code. There is little ambiguity in Chapter 7.1-6. Romans 7.7-25, however, is more difficult to incorporate into the overall scheme of Paul’s argument. The difficulty with Paul’s rhetoric in Romans 7.7-25 is lessened when it is granted that Paul is adopting a speech in character.48 Paul uses the figure of a Gentile God-fearer, who has done everything to keep the law, but finds that his or her Gentile flesh 46. J. D. G. Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 43–6. 47.  Louise Schottroff makes this argument and the connection between Paul’s argument and the broader Roman Imperial world in her article, ‘Die Schreckensherrschaft der Sünde und die Befreiung durch Christus nach dem Römerbrief des Paulus’, Evangelische Theologie 39 (1979): 497–510. 48. Stowers, A Rereading, 260.

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cannot be ‘Judaized’ by following the legal code. The consternation in 7.7-25 is not Paul’s necessarily, but it is what Paul imagines might be the final hurdle that a Gentile God-fearer might have, given the new information they have received. By showing the incredible tension that exists in the heart of a Gentile who had tried to follow the law, Paul prepares for the most critical piece of evidence supporting his argument that the Gentiles were to be fully included among God’s children. In Chapter 8, Paul uses the metaphor of adoption to show how, exactly, Gentiles could count themselves to be among the people of God. They have received a Spirit of adoption that seals them to God’s family. Throughout this section Paul has dealt with the Roman household as a primary context for drawing images that support the argument. He has used the slavery image, the marriage metaphor, and the image of adoption. In the Roman Imperial context, there could be no higher claim than to have been adopted by one of the gods. In fact, only one person had used this construction in self-description, Augustus. To Paul’s Gentile Roman readership, the use of this specific construction could have possibly called to mind the worship of Augustus’ genius, or family spirit at every crossroads in the city.49 The protective spirit, first providing divine benefit and protection to Julius Caesar, had protected and guided Augustus, and, by way of transmission and adoption, had rested on each of the Emperors in turn. Paul, while perhaps not fully engaged in the rhetoric or implications of the Roman religious concept of the genius, uses the terms ‘Spirit of adoption’ to evoke a connection between his audience and the new status that they enjoy. Now they have the same Spirit ‘in’ them that was at work in the resurrection of Jesus from out of the dead. The cry of ‘Abba, Father’ on the part of the believers, demonstrates the reception of the Spirit. The family Spirit of Jesus now rests on them, and the adoption that has been conferred on them is of the same quality and power as that which constituted the Jews as the people of God. This key evidentiary claim is what drives the rhetoric of Chapter 8 to the climactic point where Paul concludes that ‘nothing shall separate us from the love of God.’ Having used household imagery throughout the argument, Paul employs one last image to encourage the proposal for unity between Jews and Gentiles. Paul argues that the jealous response of the Jews to the newfound status as children for the Gentiles might actually serve to bring them closer to Jesus. Chapters 9–11 certainly demonstrate the emotional connection that Paul has for the Jews and should clearly show that Paul is not advancing an anti-Jewish argument in Romans. If Gentile believers have been adopted and fully included among the people of God, and if it seems as if patience with the Jews is required, the exhortations to love (Romans 12) and to be tolerant (Romans 13–14) are not only an ethic that fits the gospel, but are required for the people of God. Paul writes the letter to the Romans to a Gentile audience that may be questioning their status among the people of God. Paul uses images of slavery, 49. This will be argued in Chapter 3.



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marriage, adoption, and sibling rivalry as a way of convincing them that their status among the family of God is secure. Observing how Paul’s images and metaphors work for a Gentile audience in the Roman Imperial context can show the power of Paul’s argument and it may also provide solutions to some difficult questions. Paul’s spirit-flesh antithesis has long been one of these exegetical difficulties. For all of the effort expended in identifying correspondences between Paul and Judaism, one idea related to the Jewish use of the term ‘flesh’ has not been emphasized. Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ in Romans has a distinctively ethnic connotation.50 ‘Flesh’, in Romans, designates materiality and ethnicity at the same time. When the Spirit arrives, however, it strengthens the people of God to be effective at thwarting the destructive impact of Sin and Sin’s dominion. The Spirit of adoption is a real, abiding ‘thing’ that takes up residence within a believer and strengthens a believer.51 This is why the argument about which ‘I’ Paul refers to in Chapter 7, and whether or not Paul is trying to describe his own or another version of Christian existence, is so wide of the mark. Paul believes that the Spirit of adoption that the Gentile God-fearers have received will finally deliver them from the insecurity of their eternal destiny as was determined by their ethnic status. Wrath, law, sin, and death, no longer are the final ingredients in the life of a Gentile, or a Jew. Paul’s argument in Romans demonstrates the full inclusion of the Gentiles among the people of God. The status of the Gentiles as children of God finds its cause in the faithfulness of Jesus, and their response in faith shows God’s justice. God was unwilling to be the Father of an only Son.52 God was unwilling to be the Father of one group to the exclusion of another. This was the plan from the beginning. The family of God was to be expansive and universal in scope. God is willing to adopt to achieve these purposes. Only a three-fold synthesis of Paul’s letter that includes the metaphor of adoption, Roman political ideology, and the specific religious notions that supported Rome’s politics will demonstrate the power of Paul’s argument. It is Paul’s hope that his letter will shape the community of faith in Rome, so he has a solid base for his Spanish mission.

The plan for the work ahead … In the next chapter, I will make a full survey of modern approaches to Romans. 50.  E. D. Burton, Spirit, Soul, and Flesh: The Usage of Pneuma, Psyche and Sarx in Greek Writings and Translated Works from the Earliest Period to 225 A.D.; and of Their Equivalents Ruaḥ, Nefesh and Baśar in the Hebrew Old Testament (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1918). This will be discussed further in Chapter 4. 51. Burton makes a similar observation. See also, Dale B. Martin, The Corinthian Body (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995); and Troels Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology. 52. Peppard, Son of God, 140.

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In order to establish Paul’s audience in their first-century context, a survey of scholarship on Paul in the Roman Empire, Roman politics, and Roman religion is necessary to coordinate the spheres of influence that are most likely plausible. After the survey of Roman political and religious scholarship, I will provide a survey of the ways in which Pauline scholars have treated Paul’s pneumatology and Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor. Careful attention will be paid to the factors that may have held back the connections between ‘spirit’ and adoption in Romans 8.15. In the Chapter 3, I will investigate the Imperial claims for divine origins and the ways in which the Romans sought to publish and promote a new narrative of divine peace and blessing in the wider Empire. Roman Imperial iconography at the civic and domestic level provides crucial evidence for the evaluation of the spread of Imperial ideology. Equally valuable and long undervalued in Pauline scholarship, Roman religious themes, practices, and sites are telling clues about what Paul may have been trying to achieve in his letter. Finally, a discussion of Roman domestic religion will demonstrate that a key venue for Paul’s acquaintance with Roman religion was the home. While there was no normative cult for Roman households, the practices and the broader realities of worship in the home would have been important for Paul and for Paul’s listeners as they processed Paul’s letter. Chapters 4 and 5 trace out the argument and evidence in Romans from an Imperial point of view. I will describe in detail the specific Roman Imperial connections that would have resonated with Paul’s audience. The claims of Romans Chapters 6 and 7 are investigated, and the thesis is that Paul’s use of a speech in character provides the necessary key to unlock the argument and the evidence used in Chapter 7. Chapter 6 provides a full investigation into Romans 8.12-17 and situates Paul’s use of the phrase ‘Spirit of adoption’ within the Roman Imperial context. Other attempts to coordinate Paul’s use of this phrase by way of Hellenism and Judaism have not yielded definitive results. The Roman Imperial context will shed light on the relationship between Spirit and adoption and will yield exegetical results significant for the letter as a whole.

Conclusion How might Paul think about the success of his letter given the environment of Western Christianity? Jews and Christians remain predominantly divided. Paul’s letter to the Romans, taken with the significance of the Roman Imperial context and the desire on the part of the apostle to demonstrate the full inclusion of Gentile believers among the family of God, argues for a decidedly different reality.

Chapter 2 P AU L , R OM E , P O L I T IC S , A N D R E L IG IO N

Paul’s letter to the Romans, the Roman political context, and Roman religion are rarely considered together. While there have been studies that have examined Paul’s letter to the Romans from the point of view of Roman Imperial politics, studies that coordinate Paul, Paul’s letters, and Roman worship are represented much less frequently. Recent studies by James R. Harrison and John Dominic Crossan that examine Paul’s epistles in light of Roman religion have begun to change that situation.1 These three areas of Pauline study – Paul and his letter to the Romans, Roman Imperial politics, and Roman religion – should be treated in a coordinated way in order to show where these spheres of influence in Paul’s background overlap. This is especially true in regard to Romans 8.12-17 where the adoption metaphor and Paul’s pneumatology come together.

Modern scholarship on Paul and Romans 8 A defining characteristic of Romans 8 is the use of the term πνεῦμα. Cranfield notes that, ‘While [πνεῦμα] is used only five times in Chapters 1 to 7 and eight times in Chapters 9 to 16, [πνεῦμα] occurs twenty-one times in Chapter 8, that is, 1. James R. Harrison has produced two excellent studies: Paul’s Language of Grace in Its Graeco-Roman Context, WUNT 172 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); and the more recent Paul and the Imperial Authorities at Thessalonica and Rome: A Study in the Conflict of Ideology, WUNT 273 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011); and John Dominic Crossan, and Jonathan L. Reed, In Search of Paul. Other studies include: Davina Lopez, Apostle to the Conquered: Reimagining Paul’s Mission (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2008); Mikael Tellbe, Paul Between Synagogue and State: Christians, Jews, and Civic Authorities in 1 Thessalonians, Romans, and Philippians, Conictanea Biblica New Testament Series 34 (Stockholm: Almqvist and Wiksell International, 2001); Ian Rock, Paul’s Letter to the Romans and Roman Imperialism: An Ideological Analysis of the Exordium (Romans 1.1–17) (Eugene: Pickwick Publications, 2012); and Edward Pillar, Resurrection as Anti-Imperial Gospel: 1 Thessalonians 1.9b–10 in Context (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2013).

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much more often than in any other single chapter in the whole NT.’2 The commentators each contribute a perspective that helps to fill out the interpretation of Romans 8, but none seek to explain Paul’s use of ‘Spirit’ as it relates to the image of adoption in 8.15. Beginning with Augustine and continuing through the modern period, Romans 7–8 has been read as a Pauline description of the Christian life, a reflection of his most prominent theological points, or a summary of Paul’s ideas about Christianity.3 The experience of liberation and freedom, described in Romans 8, has been interpreted as the experience of the Christian, now freed from the Jewish law code.4 Commentators viewing Romans 8 against an apocalyptic backdrop see the realms of the ‘flesh’ and the ‘Spirit’ as two eons that offer two distinct possibilities that unfold within or on top of one another producing a dualism that Christians must struggle to overcome.5 The advent of the Spirit of Christ is determinative in the turn of the ages within the world.6 The Spirit can now be said to possess Christians.7 This is the same basic framework that J. D. G. Dunn advances when he discusses the eschatological result of the experience of the Spirit in terms of possession.8 The Lordship of Christ and the indwelling of the Spirit are treated

2.  C. E. B. Cranfield, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark Limited, 1975), 371. 3. This point is emphasized by H. Moxnes in ‘A Response: Reading Paul in a Frontier Context: Moral Criticism and Paul’s Picture of “Gentiles”’, Early Patristic Readings of Romans, eds. Kathy Gaca and L. L. Welborn, Romans Through History and Cultures Series (New York: T&T Clark, 2005), 34–41, 36. See also W. Sanday and Arthur C. Headlam, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1902), 190. This same comment can be applied to Karl Barth’s interpretation. See Karl Barth, The Epistle to the Romans: Translated from the Sixth Edition, tr. Edwyn C. Hoskyns (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1933), 231, 270 where the existential language still emphasizes the points ‘essential to the Reformers’ (Barth, Romans, 272). 4. Douglas Moo, The Epistle to the Romans, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 468, 478. Moo states that ‘despite the prominence of the Holy Spirit, Rom 8 is not really about the Spirit. For one thing, the Spirit is not equally prominent throughout, being mentioned fifteen times in vv. 1–17 but only four times in vv. 18–39. For another, Paul’s focus is not so much on the Spirit as such, but on what the Spirit does.’ 5. Anders Nygren, Commentary on Romans, tr. Carl C. Rasmussen (Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1949), 326. Cranfield emphasizes this aspect of his reading of Romans 7–8: ‘The daily, hourly putting to death of the scheming and enterprises of the sinful flesh by means of the Spirit is a matter of being led, directed, impelled, controlled by the Spirit’ (Cranfield, Romans, 395). 6.  Ernst Käsemann, Commentary on Romans, trans. Geoffrey William Bromiley (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 212, 222. 7. Käsemann, Romans, 224. 8. James Dunn, Romans 1–8, WBC 38a (Dallas: Word Books, 1988), 429.



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synonymously and coordinated through the way in which Christians either yield to the Spirit or yield to the flesh in everyday decision making.9 The difficulty with Dunn’s interpretation of Chapters 7–8 is that he has enormous difficulty in showing how Paul’s use of the term ‘Spirit’ in Chapter 7 coheres with Paul’s use of the term ‘Spirit’ in Chapter 8.10 Dunn views Chapter 7 as the experience of a Christian who has come to the end of the Torah.11 The description of the tension that fills a Christian at the realization that they are unable to fulfil the law and the accompanying description of the Spirit’s life-giving agency presents an interpretive dilemma. The reason why Paul’s interpreters have difficulty at this point is because, for Paul, eschatology and ethics were not to be separated but held together because of the Spirit. The tension and perceived contradiction between Chapters 7–8 comes from the readers, not Paul.12 The ethical tension in the reading of Romans 7–8, as it pertains to the distinction between the flesh and the Spirit, is not emphasized among Catholic interpreters.13 Instead of the impossibility of keeping the law, there is now a real possibility of the indwelling power of the Spirit in the life of the believer.14 The law of the Spirit is synonymous with both the Spirit of God and the Spirit of Christ

9. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 424. 10. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 435. In the attempt to show how Chapters 7 and 8 relate together as it applies to the term ‘Spirit’, Dunn uses terms like ‘paradox’, ‘tension’, and ‘contradiction’ because it is difficult for him to see how it is that the indwelling Spirit of Christ would still be in a place where sin lies close at hand and actually still seems to have some sort of power. 11. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 399. 12. Dunn states, ‘How then is the role of the law affected by this unpalatable fact that sin and death still have a claim and a say over believers insofar as they are not yet wholly one with Christ, how is its more complex relation with sin and death affected by this eschatological tension, by the fact that the believer is suspended (so uncomfortably) between the death and resurrection of Christ? Paul evidently felt the need to explore this tension, and how it is reflected both in the personality of the believer and in the law itself.’ (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 404). The difficulty with this entire line of thinking, though, is the uncomfortable notion that Paul seems to see Romans 8 as a solution to Romans 7 through the agency of the Spirit. Dunn is not the only advocate for this kind of tension. See, for example, Moo, Romans, 486; Cranfield, Romans, 395; Nygren, Romans, 326. 13.  Joseph Fitzmyer, Romans: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 33 (New York: Doubleday, 1993), 480. See also, Brendan Byrne, Romans, SP (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1996), 234. 14. Byrne, Romans, 239. Byrne states: ‘Paul resumes more explicitly the theme governing Romans 5–8 overall: the hope of glory held out for all believers despite the sufferings of the present time. In the long “ethical sequence” making up 6.1-8.13 he has set this hope on a firmer basis: the replacement of the law by the Spirit creates and preserves in human lives a righteousness that opens up the way to salvation and eternal life … (the) Christian experience of the Spirit becomes the supreme pledge of glory’ (Byrne, Romans, 248).

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where Christ now lives in believers in the indwelling Spirit. The Christian has now come under the rule of God’s Spirit.15 Commentators approach Romans 8.12-17 from different points of view. Continuing from an interpretation that understands Romans 7 to be a description of the life of Christian, the emphasis on divine sonship is not viewed from the point of view of eschatology but in terms of the new status of a believer.16 This description might also be applied to the mindset of the apostle himself, when he realizes that there is a new existence in the Spirit that has already begun.17 The believer has been liberated from the Torah as a means of pleasing God and is now free to live in the realm of the Spirit, even while awaiting the full realization of this reality sometime in the future.18 The adoption metaphor itself is rarely treated with much comment. Apart from a careful look into the possible Jewish and Hellenistic antecedents, the idea of adoption itself results in a discussion of the status of believers as children of God.19 There are efforts to view Paul’s metaphor of adoption against a Hellenistic background in order to show that Paul envisions a change in status.20 There are also attempts to examine the adoption metaphor against the background of the Septuagint and the literature of Second Temple Judaism, but these attempts must face the fact that adoption itself is not a feature of Judaism, and the term itself does not appear in that context.21 The recognition that Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor may not necessarily have a Jewish background has been noted by commentators, who discuss the possibility that Paul has the picture of the Roman family in mind.22 Paul may 15. Fitzmyer, Romans, 489. 16. Sanday and Headlam, Romans, 203. 17. Barth, Romans, 299. 18. Käsemann, Romans, 212. 19. Käsemann states that ‘the original sense of “adoption” is scarcely present in υἱοθεσία.’ (Käsemann, Romans, 227). 20.  Sanday and Headlam remark about possible Hellenistic antecedents, as do Cranfield and Dunn. See Sanday and Headlam, Romans, 203; Cranfield, Romans, 398; and Dunn, Romans 1—8, 452. 21. Dunn examines the possibilities for Jewish antecedents for the passage but only in terms of literary allusions. Byrne makes the attempt to ground the adoption metaphor in the experience of the status of sonship that is to be connected to the Davidic covenant of 2 Samuel 7.14 (Byrne, Romans, 250). N. T. Wright examines the metaphor of adoption through his perception of various points of comparison with the Exodus. Adoption is the experience of a child of God that is analogous to the experience of Israel, and a completion of that experience. (N. T. Wright, The Acts of the Apostles, Introduction to Epistolary Literature, the Letter to the Romans, the First Letter to the Corinthians, eds. Robert W. Wall and J. Paul Sampley, NIB, vol. 10 (Nashville: Abingdon, 2001), 593. 22. Fitzmyer notes this potential in the text when he says, ‘For Paul υἱοθεσία denotes a special status: because of faith baptized Christians have been taken into the family of God, have come under the patria potestas, “paternal authority”, of God himself, and have



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have the Roman law court or Roman family life in mind, but the intent is not to develop a doctrine of the Spirit. Rather, it is to convince Roman Christians that their experience of the Spirit at baptism validates their new status as children of God.23 The experience of ‘sonship’ as it derives from the Spirit of God thus moves beyond all ethnic, familial, Imperial, and legalistic boundaries.24 The attempt to situate Paul’s adoption metaphor in the broader context of kinship relations and the quest for status in the Roman world is significant, but it still yields no answers to the question regarding Paul’s understanding of the connection between Spirit and adoption. There is general agreement among commentators about a great deal in Romans 8. All of the commentaries recognize the primacy of the Spirit in the development of Paul’s argument. All recognize the fundamental shift from Romans chapter 7 to chapter 8 and explain that shift by reference to the thoughts previously developed in 5.1–7.6. There is agreement in terms of the way in which Paul develops the theme of kinship and uses the adoption metaphor as a bridge to the key concept of inheritance that follows. All of the commentaries see a direct relationship between pneumatology and Christology in Chapter 8.1-17. The antithesis that is developed between the flesh and the Spirit serves to show what has happened in the Christ event. A new age has come. The eschatological Spirit has arrived and demonstrates its presence in the ‘Abba’ cry and in the inclusion of believers into God’s family. Membership in the family of God has broadened out to include Gentiles, as well as Jews. Importantly, there is wide agreement about how the term ‘Spirit’ is to be construed throughout 8.1-17. There is a broad level of consensus as to the occasions on which πνεῦμα should be translated as ‘divine’ and which times it should be taken as referring to a ‘human’ spirit. Among the differences between scholars, the most pronounced is the degree to which the interpretation of Romans chapter 7 governs the interpretation of Chapter 8. Dunn and Jewett would represent the two extremes. Dunn allows Chapter 7 to govern the range of possibilities that are in view for a person who lives by the Spirit. Jewett allows for the content of chapter 8 to stand on its own. Commentators differ, too, in terms of methodological approach and the way in which methodology impacts the interpretive possibilities for Chapter 8. Dunn and Fitzmyer view Paul’s Jewish background as determinative in the interpretation of Romans 8. Jewett looks to the Roman context as a crucial piece to the solution of the interpretive puzzle. Käsemann and Cranfield view the Spirit in chapter 8 as the new reality of eschatological life. Minor differences can be seen between scholars in terms of the organization of the material, as well. Are verses 14–17 to be included with 12–13 or to be given a distinct treatment? a legitimate status in that family, not simply that of slaves (who belonged, indeed, to the ancient familia), but of sons.’ (Fitzmyer, Romans, 500). Karen Ehrensperger, Paul at the Crossroad of Cultures – Theologizing in the Space-Between (London and New York: T&T Clark, 2013) suggests looking at Paul as moderating between these two. 23. Robert Jewett, Romans, 500. 24. Jewett, Romans, 497.

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No commentary attempts to see how Paul’s use of Spirit and adoption should be understood within any context, whether Roman, Hellenistic, or Jewish. The two terms are treated in isolation from one another, with treatment given only to the specific meaning of each term. While Fitzmyer, Jewett, Dunn, and Byrne describe the possible connections with Roman family customs and possible Greco-Roman legal precedents, how Paul intends for adoption to be connected with Spirit is left unexplained. In his assessment of this same issue, Robert Jewett states, ‘Whether this link between Spirit and divine sonship developed in pre-Pauline Christian baptismal rituals, or whether it is a distinctive contribution of Pauline theology, remains unclear.’25 Jewett observes that the link between sonship (adoption) and the Spirit is significant, but does not offer a hypothesis to explain the correlation. The problem may have been overlooked, or the solution may have been presupposed as part of another interpretive framework.

Modern scholarship on Paul and politics in the first-century It was Adolf Deissmann’s Light from the Ancient East that demonstrated that there were many distinct and overlapping titles for ‘god’ among Romans, Greeks, Jews, and Christians in the first-century.26 Deissmann observed that the titles that Christians used for God in the earliest church were first and most prominently used to describe Alexander and the Caesars. After adducing a number of inscriptions where honorific titles of ‘god’ are given to the Caesars, Deissmann remarks, ‘Further quotations for the title ‘god’ are unnecessary; the nets break if we try to get them all.’27 Deissmann also notes that the title ‘Son of God’ and the Latin equivalent divi filius used by Augustus on multitudes of inscriptions and papyri would have been a significant concern to early Christians.28 Even when viewed against the backdrop of Christology, the investigation into the interaction between the Latin, Greek and Christian designations for ‘Son of God’ have not fully materialized.29 In 1986, Dieter Georgi first called New Testament scholars to an appreciation for the Roman Imperial antecedents to Paul’s way of articulating the gospel message. Included among Georgi’s observations about Paul’s acquaintance with the Roman Imperial context is that Paul viewed his Damascus road experience as a calling, not as a conversion. With this calling, Paul was required to make a fullscale re-evaluation of his theology that included an adaptation of his construal of 25. Jewett, Romans, 487, emphasis added. 26. Adolf Deissmann, Light from the Ancient East; The New Testament Illustrated by Recently Discovered Texts of the Graeco-Roman World, trans. Lionel R. M. Strachan (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1910), 347–50. 27. Deissmann, Light, 350. 28. Deissmann, Light, 350. 29. An investigation into the intersection of Christology and the title ‘Son of God’ can be found in Michael Peppard’s book, Son of God, 10–30.



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prophetic narrative eschatology.30 Paul’s prophetic and apocalyptic eschatology was bound to rub up against the Imperial version of Roman eschatology that found its fulfillment and articulation after the battle of Actium, when Augustus was regularly hailed as a ‘Saviour’.31 Jacob Taubes’ book, The Political Theology of Paul is a reading of Romans from the point of view of the political theology that Taubes views as central to Paul’s understanding. According to Taubes, Romans 1.1-4 is a political declaration of war directed against the Caesar.32 Taubes also notes that Paul’s ‘declaration of war’, is balanced by Romans 15.30-33 where Paul asks for prayer so that the offering he is delivering to Jerusalem would happen without incident. Taubes notes that Paul felt compelled to ask for prayer because the Gentiles from whom the offering had come tainted the money he was bringing to Jerusalem.33 The Epistle of Romans is not only a declaration of war against the capital of the Empire but is also an example of Paul’s dialogue with the Pharisees and the rest of his Mediterranean environment concerning the constitution of the people of God.34 Krister Stendahl called attention to Paul’s concern for the fate of the Gentiles in the providence of God, an emphasis that cut against the traditional interpretations of Romans as a treatise on the salvation of the individual. In so doing, Stendahl occasioned the necessary discussion about the original intention of Paul’s letter to the Romans.35 Stendahl provoked this discussion by questioning the pride of place that had been given by interpreters to Augustine’s rendering of Paul’s soliloquy in Romans Chapter 7. Rather than look through the Augustinian lens of the conscience, Stendahl suggested that the real issue in Romans was not the introspective conscience of the individual believer, but rather the relationship between Jews and Gentiles before God. Around the same time that the little book by Stendahl was published, so too, was E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism.36 Sanders’ book made an enormous impact upon Pauline scholarship, and continues to do so today. The ‘New Perspective on Paul’ concentrates on the Palestinian precedents for Paul’s theology. In addition to Sanders, J. D. G. Dunn, N. T. Wright, Francis Watson, and Richard Hays, among others, have all made enormous contributions to Pauline studies. Concentrating on the Palestinian antecedents, however, diverted attention from the Roman Imperial context. 30.  Dieter Georgi, Theocracy in Paul’s Praxis and Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991), 18–20. 31. Georgi, Theocracy, 29. 32. Jacob Taubes, The Political Theology of Paul, tr. Dana Hollander (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2004), 16. 33. Taubes, Political Theology, 19. 34. Taubes, Political Theology, 25. 35. Krister Stendahl, Paul Among Jews and Gentiles, and Other Essays (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976). 36. E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977).

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Alongside the New Perspective, scholars of the New Testament also adopted sociological approaches that demonstrated Paul’s acquaintance with the social fabric of life in the first-century. Wayne Meeks’ book, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul, rooted Paul’s letters in the soil of the firstcentury and employed sociological models to explain the impact that Paul made upon inhabitants of the great urban centers of the Mediterranean. Meeks’ book also seeks to trace the development of the Pauline church in sociological perspective.37 There have been many followers of Meeks, as well. Ben Witherington and Philip Esler developed commentaries on Romans that incorporated the insights of the sociological approach and addressed areas of social concern.38 Slavery, family relations, and archaeology all have been part of the sociological and anthropological stream of Pauline studies.39 Proponents of a political reading of Romans include Neil Elliott, N. T. Wright, John Dominic Crossan, and recently, James R. Harrison. In his monograph, Paul and the Arrogance of Nations, Elliott uses the characteristic virtues of the Empire to organize his discussion of Paul.40 Paul’s audience in Rome would have been fully versed with the key Imperial themes of imperium, iustitia, clementia, pietas, and virtus and would have responded to the way in which Paul’s use of these themes countered that of the Empire. The result is an integrative look at Paul from a political point of view that also serves to show how current readings fail to appreciate how subversive Paul may have been. 37. Wayne A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983). 38. See Ben Witherington and Darlene Hyatt, Paul’s Letter to the Romans: A SocioRhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004); and Philip Esler, Conflict and Identity in Romans: The Social Setting of Paul’s Letter (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003). 39. See, for example: James Albert Harrill, The Manumission of Slaves in Early Christianity, HUT 32 (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1995) and Slaves in the New Testament: Literary, Social, and Moral Dimensions (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006); Jennifer Glancy, Slavery in Early Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002); also, J. Paul Sampley, Paul in the Greco-Roman World: A Handbook (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2003); Gustav Adolf Deissmann, Paul: A Study in Social and Religious History (New York: Harper, 1957); Halvor Moxnes, Constructing Early Christian Families: Family As Social Reality and Metaphor (London: Routledge, 1997); Carolyn Osiek, and David L. Balch, Families in the New Testament World Households and House Churches (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997); Caroline Johnson-Hodge, If Sons, Then Heirs: A Study of Kinship and Ethnicity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007). For archaeology, see the studies coordinated by Helmut Koester, Ephesos Metropolis of Asia: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Its Archaeology, Religion, and Culture (Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, 1995) and Pergamon Citadel of the Gods: Archaeological Record, Literary Description, and Religious Development (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1998). 40. See Neil Elliott, Liberating Paul: The Justice of God and the Politics of the Apostle (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1994), and The Arrogance of Nations.



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One critique of Elliott’s work arises from the fact that Paul does not specifically name the emperor in the letter to the Romans. In Chapter 13, in fact, Paul seems to show tolerance for the ruling authorities. Although Elliott makes the case for Paul’s implicit critique of the Empire, an overt reference to the Imperial authorities in a pejorative way would go a long way toward substantiating Elliott’s claims. Elliott’s work, however, demonstrates the sheer volume of correspondence between Paul’s message and the use of similar terms and symbols on the part of the Empire. Either Paul’s use of language, metaphor, and message was extremely coincidental, or Paul deliberately chose to use the symbols and language of the Empire in order to adapt them to his own use.41 N. T. Wright’s Paul in Fresh Perspective goes further in engaging the recent debate on Roman Imperial antecedents for Paul’s rhetoric in Romans and other letters while simultaneously pointing towards a new slant on Paul’s theology.42 Wright deftly accounts for the emergence of a figure like Paul and letters like Paul’s by describing the Apostle according to three primary layers. These include Paul’s background in Second Temple Judaism, Hellenistic culture as Paul experienced it, and the Roman Imperial political landscape that held it all together. Wright maintains his emphasis upon Jesus as the climax of the covenant in Paul’s thought. God has acted decisively in Jesus Christ to fulfill God’s promises, restore God’s people, and bring in the new age of salvation. The Creator God has not abandoned God’s covenant but has taken an unprecedented and unexpected way of fulfilling that covenant through the crucifixion, death, and resurrection of Messiah Jesus. Paul does this in constant dialogue with the Roman Imperial propaganda of the day. There are Pauline scholars who now have attempted to show how Paul may have been reacting to the political, social, and religious influences of Rome. John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan Reed’s book, In Search of Paul: How Jesus’ Apostle Opposed Rome’s Empire with God’s Kingdom, is unique in that it situates a reading of Paul through an archeological lens.43 Crossan and Reed describe Paul’s attempt to win a hearing with the Gentiles from the point of view of the ancient cities that Paul visited. Crossan places Paul firmly in the company, the homes, and the cities of the Gentiles, and notes the specific ways in which the Empire would have influenced Paul at almost every turn. When Paul used money, a testimony to the power of the Empire was in his hands. When Paul traveled on the Roman roads, a mile marker indicated Imperial strength and the distance, in some cases, from the capital itself. When Paul moved through a city gate, temples, statuary, and inscriptions showed how the Imperial influence was being felt on the local level. 41. On the intersection between Paul and the political ideology of the Empire see also: Richard Horsley, and Neil Asher Silberman, The Message and the Kingdom: How Jesus and Paul Ignited a Revolution and Transformed the Ancient World (New York: Grossett/Putnam, 1997), Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society (Harrisburg: Trinity International, 1997), and Paul and the Roman Imperial Order (Harrisburg: Trinity International, 2000). 42. N. T. Wright, Paul in Fresh Perspective (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005). 43. John Dominic Crossan, and Jonathan L. Reed, In Search of Paul.

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James R. Harrison has written two volumes on the political significance of Paul’s letters. His methodological approach depends upon a cross-section of firstcentury materials that he uses to draw a composite picture of the background Paul has in mind when he discusses the different perspectives of eschatological glory. The result is a reading of Paul that, like Elliott’s, shows the potential for conflict between Paul’s message about Messiah Jesus and Caesar’s message regarding peace, glory, and salvation. Harrison moves the argument outside of the strictly political sphere.44 The language of glory and the machinations of the Imperial cult range far beyond the histories of Suetonius, Tacitus, and Dio. Harrison brings inscriptions, coinage, and other symbols of Roman propaganda to bear on the argument that Paul’s letters were attempting to engage and shift an Imperial narrative of glory to an eschatological narrative of glory, where the main figure is a crucified and risen Messiah. James Harrison has done something that, to my knowledge, has not been done in Pauline scholarship, in that he treats the Roman Imperial cult as an entity unto itself, and offers an extensive evaluation of the ways in which Paul engages it in Romans and 1 Thessalonians. The result is a representation of the Imperial cult as a legitimate feature of Roman religion and a proposal as to how Paul engaged it. Harrison has pointed out something that should be fairly obvious to Pauline scholars: when it comes to the Roman Empire and the first-century, politics and religion go hand-in-hand.45 A final study that may appear to lie outside of Pauline studies, strictly speaking, deserves particular note. Michael Peppard connects the Roman Imperial context and cult with the notions of adoption in the first-century.46 Peppard’s study ranges across gospel studies, Paul, and the apostolic fathers, as he seeks to trace the development of the notion of ‘the Son of God’ in the theological reflection of the earliest Christian communities. Peppard, as far as I can tell, is the first scholar to tie together Roman religion, the Imperial cult, adoption and the theological articulation of the church in terms of the ‘Son of God’, all in one piece. While Peppard is not investigating the notions of Spirit and adoption and how they might be tied together in Romans 8, his work lays a foundation for the interpretation of Romans 8 that will be presented here.

Modern scholarship on Roman religion Modern American notions that attempt to separate church and state, faith and governance, or religion and politics would have appeared misguided in the Roman Empire of the first-century. They were inextricably bound together. In order to assess the possible significance of Roman religion for Paul, the general 44. See Harrison, Paul’s Language of Grace and Paul and the Imperial Authorities. 45. See also, Justin Hardin, Galatians and the Imperial Cult: A Critical Analysis of the First-century Social Context of Paul’s Letter (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008). 46. Michael Peppard, Son of God.



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features of Roman religion, worship practices in the household, and the Roman religious concept of the genius are critical.47 Understanding the concept of spiritual power, numen, is essential for following the significance and development of Roman religion.48 Numen, the nod of the head on the part of a god, makes mountains fall and seas rise.49 Focusing on utilitarian and practical results, Roman worshippers tried to harness or interpret divine power in such a way as to guarantee success in battle, economy, and Empire building.50 One result of this desire to utilize divine power was the proliferation of talisman, magic, and charms, each with their own significant realm of influence.51 A second result was the idea that the numen in any given context had to be dealt with in an identical way to the past, where the particular spiritual power had blessed the Empire rather than cursed it.52 Roman worship had to be traditional to be practiced well. Clifford Ando, following the work of Rose, points to the term ‘numen’ as the essential quality of Roman religion. The expression of spiritual power was practical in nature. Roman religiosity, according to Ando, was most concerned with what ‘works.’53 This explains the unique feature of Roman religion by which more and more gods were added to the pantheon. Roman religion had no wish to alienate a deity since the more sacred knowledge was available, the better the results might be for the Empire.54 In a strict sense, the placation of the gods with sacrifices, offerings, and cultus had, as its objective, the knowledge of future events and the knowledge of success in the future.55 Clifford Ando’s appreciation for the ways in which Imperial ideology worked to bring consensus to the Empire, points to the Imperial cult in Rome and beyond as a feature of Roman religion.56 The promotion of Roman Imperial ideology was 47. See, for example, David L. Balch, ‘The Suffering of Isis/Io and the Portrait of Christ Crucified: Frescoes in Pompeian and Roman Houses’, Journal of Religion 83 (2003): 24–55, regarding Paul’s encounter with Greco-Roman religion in the context of the household. 48. H. J. Rose, Ancient Roman Religion (London, New York: Hutchinson’s University Library, 1948). For a description of Roman religion that includes a thorough catalogue of primary source material, see Mary Beard, John North and Simon R. F. Price, Religions of Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998) and Religions of Rome Vol. 2, A Sourcebook (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998). 49. Rose, Ancient Roman Religion, 15. See also, H. J. Rose, ‘NVMEN and Mana’, HTR 44/3 (1951): 109–20. 50. This feature is emphasized by Clifford Ando, The Matter of the Gods: Religion and the Roman Empire (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008). 51. Rose, Ancient Roman Religion, 155. 52. Rose, Ancient Roman Religion, 156. 53. Clifford Ando, Roman Religion (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2003). 54.  Ando makes the point that in Roman religion, knowledge was more important that faith. (Ando, Roman Religion, 11). 55. Ando, Roman Religion, 12. 56. Clifford Ando, Imperial Ideology and Provincial Loyalty in the Roman Empire (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000) and The Matter of the Gods.

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a cohesive force throughout the Empire. By outdoing one another in the quest for honor, local and regional rulers vied for the favour of the Empire. Rome had but to watch the colonies and cities outdo one another in their articulation of honors to the Emperor. This was the way that the Imperial cult functioned.57 Scholars trace the beginning of the ruler cult to Egypt and across Greece. Lily Ross Taylor’s study suggests that, after his visit to Egypt, Julius Caesar began to fashion himself according to the image of an Egyptian ruler/god.58 The combination of Octavian’s use of Julius Caesar’s divine status allowed for the proliferation of the ruler cult in the provinces and fostered a more demonstrable presence of the Imperial cult in Rome, too.59 Taylor suggests that the Imperial cult became a tool in the hands of the Empire itself in order to control the people and groups it had worked so hard to subjugate.60 Simon Price’s book, Rituals and Power: The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor is among the first to identify the assumptions that scholars made when they approached the Imperial cult.61 In his description of the Imperial Cult in the Greek east, Price asserts that the proliferation of the Roman Imperial cult was not simply the result of a sophomoric flattery on the part of the Greeks, but was bound up in the politics and benefaction system of the day and correlated to a familiar past.62 Price describes the development of the Imperial cult that begins with Augustus and extends through the ‘revival’ of Nero in the 60’s ce when some thirty Imperial temples or sanctuaries were constructed.63 The foundation laid by Price with his work on the Imperial cult in the Greek east is essential in 57. Ando, Imperial Ideology, 133. 58. Lily Ross Taylor, Divinity. In the introduction, Taylor indicates that the subject of the ruler cult had been studied predominantly from the Hellenistic point of view. The only text that had addressed the ruler cult in a Roman context before Taylor’s was Emile Beurlier, Le Culte impérial, son histoire et son organisation depuis Auguste jusqu’à Justinien, par l’abbé E. Beurlier (Paris: E. Thorin, 1891). 59. Taylor, Divinity, 206. 60.  Taylor says, ‘[The Imperial cult] was employed as an effective means of government and was modified to accord with the beliefs of men whose religion was opposed to the exercise of the cult in its fullest form … the emperor had found in the leagues, with their organization about the cult of himself and the goddess Roma, an effective means of establishing his power, and when he organized the cult of the Genius at Rome, Augustus seems to have realized at the same time the value it offered in the West, especially in the more distant and less Romanized lands.” (Taylor, Divinity, 208). 61. Price, Rituals and Power. For source material on the Imperial cult prior to Price see Ronald Syme, The Roman Revolution, Arthur Darby Nock and Zeph Stewart, Essays on Religion and the Ancient World (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1972) and Essays on Religion and the Ancient World 2 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1972), and Louis Robert, Denis Rousset, Philippe Gauthier and Ivana Savalli-Lestrade, Choix d’écrits (Paris: Belles lettres, 2007). 62. Price, Rituals and Power, 21. 63. Price, Rituals and Power, 59.



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developing an adequate idea of what the Apostle Paul may have been working with as he went from city to city. Duncan Fishwick is responsible for sifting through the data in regard to the Imperial cult in the Latin west.64 Rather than seeing the Imperial cult as growing alongside of similar religious expressions in the Greek east, Fishwick sees the development of the Imperial cult as a diplomatic discovery and as a practical instrument of Empire building.65 As the republic came into closer contact with Hellenistic population groups, Rome became comfortable in ascribing divine honors for individual citizens.66 Augustus, truly aware of the political value, was able to shape the Imperial cult to become an institution that unified the Empire.67 Ittai Gradel’s work, Emperor Worship and Roman Religion investigates emperor worship in Italy itself.68 In describing emperor worship, Gradel draws attention to the implied dualism of prior scholarly attempts at understanding the Imperial cult. Gradel suggests that where scholars see things as divine or not, Roman religion may have looked at divinity along a sliding scale.69 The lack of this strict demarcation between humanity, on one hand, and divinity, on the other, allows for emperor worship to be examined in a different way. In the later chapters, Gradel describes the associations that help to promote emperor worship and makes a compelling case for viewing the spread of the Imperial cult to each home, as well. This is a key move and a piece necessary to view Paul’s contribution in his letter to the Romans. Paul’s acquaintance with the domus in his travels throughout the Empire prepared him to make a significant contribution in Rome in the context of the household. 64. Duncan Fishwick, The Development of Provincial Ruler Worship in the Western Roman Empire (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1978), The Imperial Cult in the Latin West: Studies in the Ruler Cult of the Western Provinces of the Roman Empire (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1987). See also the volume compiled in Fishwick’s honour: Duncan Fishwick and Alastair Small, Subject and Ruler: The Cult of the Ruling Power in Classical Antiquity: Papers Presented at a Conference held in the University of Alberta on April 13–15, 1994, to Celebrate the 65th Anniversary of Duncan Fishwick (Ann Arbor: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1996). 65. Fishwick, in referring to the Imperial cult in Rome states, ‘… the system was also an integral part of traditional diplomacy, and it can be safely assumed that in most cases the impetus will have come from the pro-Roman aristocracy that was concerned with maintaining good relations with the new colossus in the West’ (Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 46). 66.  Fishwick states: ‘The conclusion to be drawn is that in the late Republic people from various strata of society were ready to honor their favourites and benefactors in ways that brought them into closer relationship with the gods. Exceptional ability or success made an impression and men were receptive to the idea that an individual could be under divine protection or divinely inspired’ (Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 55). 67. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 93. 68. Ittai Gradel, Emperor Worship and Roman Religion (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2002). 69. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 26. In general, see Hans Dieter Betz, ‘Gottmensch, II’, RAC, vol. 12 (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 1983).

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With this conclusion, however, a large gap in the scholarship is exposed. One of the features of Gradel’s proposal is that the Imperial cult had spread to and was practiced in private homes.70 The difficulty is that there are barely any systematic treatments of Roman household religion and the treatments that are more prominent are left to archaeological, not necessarily religious (cultic), description. Given the plurality of gods, the intricacy of the ritual, or the unfamiliarity of the religious concepts themselves, Roman domestic religious practice remains underrepresented in Roman religious scholarship.71 Religion in the Roman home was described and characterized by Roman writers, but only obliquely. Annemarie Kaufmann-Heinimann describes the importance of art within homes as primary evidence for religion in the home. Kaufmann-Heinimann investigates the implied religious claims made by the evidence of wall paintings, mosaics, sculpture, silverware, ceramics, and money boxes. The pervasive nature of religiously themed objects and the prevalence of mythological and religious themes on the walls make it likely that religion was the reason for the proliferation of art in the home rather than taste in decoration.72 David Orr meticulously culls through the evidence of Pompeii, Herculaneum, Ostia, and Delos in order to propose a possible reconstruction of Roman domestic religion in the first-century.73 In addition to the wall paintings, mosaics, and other aspects of domestic art, Orr provides plates and descriptions of lararia that were found in the homes. Lararia, household shrines, housed figures used to represent the gods or the spirits of ancestors. Since it was through the spread of artistic images in the home and the Empire that messages and representations of Roman religion and the Imperial cult became familiar in the ancient world, an acquaintance with the visual and artistic 70. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 198–9. Gradel makes the point that the ancient evidence focused on the public demonstration of worship and that the private worship of the emperor would have been largely unremarkable since it would have been thoroughly understood by those who practiced it. 71. Annemarie Kaufmann-Heinimann, ‘Religion in the House’ in A Companion to Roman Religion, ed. Jörg Rüpke (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 188–201. At the conclusion of Kaufmann-Heinimann’s article she states, ‘There is no comprehensive study of the subject so far, but several aspects are treated separately’ (Kaufmann-Heinimann, ‘Religion in the House’, 201). 72. Kaufmann-Heinimann makes the contribution to Rüpke’s volume and builds on refers to her own work on the sacred function of bronze figures in Roman religious practice. See also, Annemarie Kaufmann-Heinimann, Götter und Lararien aus Augusta Raurica: Herstellung, Fundzusammenhänge und sakrale Funktion figürlicher Bronzen in einer römischen Stadt (Augst: Römermuseum, 1998). 73. David Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, ANRW 2.16.2, ed. Wolfgang Haase (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1978), 1557–91. See also, David Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion: A Study of the Roman Household Deities and their Shrines at Pompeii and Herculaneum’ (Unpublished Dissertation; University of Maryland, 1972).



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world in the first-century will be helpful in determining the extent, prevalence, and message of Roman religion. Paul Zanker’s study on Roman art, The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus, is central to working through the influence of Augustus’ religious reformation and the images associated with it.74 John Clarke’s study, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans: Visual Representation and Non-Elite Viewers in Italy, 100 B.C.–A.D. 315, examines the possible influence that massive imperial projects and smaller, less grandiose representations may have had on non-elites.75 Clarke’s study will be integral to determining the images that non-elite viewers would have greeted with familiarity. As Annemarie Kauffmann-Heinimann has noted, there are no extensive treatments on Roman household religion.76 Also, there are no full treatments of household religion or the ways in which worship in the household promoted the imperial cult in Rome, the Latin west, or the Greek East. The studies offered by Price, Gradel, and Fishwick are principally relegated to the public examples of religious shrines that were on display in the Empire. There is another gap in scholarship that directly impinges on the investigation of Roman religion and the possible intersection of Roman religion and the apostle Paul. There are no full-scale investigations of the Roman genius. Other than the articles in ancient encyclopedias and the brief assessment of the genius in the scholarship regarding the Imperial cult, the picture of the nature of the genius remains very one-dimensional. More specifically, a full description of the Roman genius and the ways in which it was venerated in the household and in the Imperial cult would be significant to Paul’s audience in Rome. Imperial propaganda and Roman religion were well served by artistic representations all over the Empire. The cities themselves spoke of the Imperial program by their very layout. As Augustus’ reformation spread and the transition from his leadership to that of his adopted sons and heirs, so too spread the practice of veneration of the emperor himself or the worship of the emperor’s genius. Paul’s ministry was fashioned in this political and pious context. Paul could not walk along the road, city to city, without a reminder of the religious foundation on which the Empire was built.

74. Paul Zanker, The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus, trans. Alan Shapiro (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1988). 75. John R. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans: Visual Representation and Non-Elite Viewers in Italy, 100 B.C.–A.D. 315 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003). See also, Elaine K. Gazda and Anne E. Haeckl, Roman Art in the Private Sphere: New Perspectives on the Architecture and Decor of the Domus, Villa, and Insula (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1991). 76. Kauffmann-Heinimann, ‘Religion in the House’, 201.

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Studies on Paul and the metaphor of adoption in Romans Brendan Byrne’s study Sons of God, Seed of Abraham: a study of the idea of the sonship of God of all Christians in Paul against the Jewish Background is important because it is among the first that treats Paul from the perspective of Second Temple Judaism.77 His study focuses on the motif of sonship in the Hebrew Scriptures and Rabbinic Judaism as the antecedents for Paul’s use of the sonship motif in the New Testament. Byrne seeks to base Paul’s understanding of ‘sonship’ in the Hebrew Scriptures and in the context of Second Temple Judaism. Byrne looks at the ways in which the phrase ‘son(s) of God’ is used throughout the Hebrew Scriptures and groups these under the headings of (1) divine beings, (2) Israelites, and (3) the king.78 Byrne also offers a comprehensive survey of the sonship motif as it is found in intertestamental literature. Specifically, Byrne finds references in the Wisdom of Solomon,79 Joseph and Aesnath,80 The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs,81 and Philo.82 Byrne concludes that ‘sonship’, as it is a theme in these sources, is relegated to Israelites alone, it is a theme located in eschatological contexts, and it carries a sense of rescue from death or vindication of the righteous.83 Byrne suggests that Paul understands υἱοθεσία in Romans 8.15 to signify the status that adoption brings.84 The ‘spirit of adoption’ is identified as the Holy Spirit and Byrne interprets the passage as a description of an experience that the believer has in terms of the Spirit. Byrne does not suggest, other than in language that indicates ‘status,’ any other connection between spirit and adoption.85 77. Brendan Byrne, Sons of God, Seed of Abraham: a study of the idea of the sonship of God of all Christians in Paul against the Jewish Background, Ana bib 83 (Rome: Pontifical Institute, 1979). Other studies include Allen Mawhinney, ‘Huiothesia in the Pauline Epistles: Its Background, Use and Implications’ (Unpublished Dissertation; Baylor University, 1982) and Edward Watson, Paul, His Roman Audience, and the Adopted People of God: Understanding the Pauline Metaphor of Adoption in Romans As Authorial Audience (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 2008). 78. Byrne, Sons of God, 11. Byrne examines this notion as it applies to Gen. 3.22 and Ps. 82.6-7. 79. Byrne, Sons of God, 43. 80. Byrne, Sons of God, 53. 81. Byrne, Sons of God, 56. 82. Byrne, Sons of God, 57, 58. 83. Byrne, Sons of God, 62, 63. These ideas will be important when we finally reach Paul’s discussion in Romans. It is clear that Paul intends to use the idea of ‘adoption’ or ‘sonship’ to express the desire on God’s part to expand the offer to those outside of Jewish ethnicity. While Israelites have the ‘adoption’ first, according to Romans 9.5, the Spirit of adoption has now been extended to gentiles, as well as Jews. 84. Byrne, Sons of God, 99, 100. 85. Byrne, Sons of God, 100.



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Byrne’s exegesis is carefully done but it does not specifically negotiate the challenge of engaging the Greco-Roman context for adoption language. Instead, Byrne makes a shift to the terminology of ‘sonship’ rather than ‘adoption.’86 What Byrne does acknowledge is the dual aspect of υἱοθεσία in Chapter 8. There is some level of experience of the Spirit in the lives of believers (8.15), but the full expression of the Spirit lies in the final eschatological moment where creation itself ceases from its groaning (8.23). James M. Scott has provided a comprehensive survey of the linguistic field for υἱοθεσία and related terms.87 Scott begins with the Hellenistic environment of Paul, but quickly moves to an investigation of the Hebrew Scriptures for the antecedent to Paul’s idea of ‘adoption’. Scott does not offer an assessment for what he thinks Paul may have meant with the phrase ‘spirit of adoption’. Scott makes two main arguments in the course of his investigation. He attempts to show that Paul is drawing on the Hellenistic use of the term υἱοθεσία to mean ‘adoption as sons.’88 He also argues that Paul’s primary reference point for the meaning of the term is not found in Hellenism, strictly speaking, but is lodged in the background of the Hebrew Scriptures.89 While there is no extant evidence for adoption among the Jews, there is widespread use of the terms that apply to the idea of ‘sonship’.90 Specifically, the text and tradition that supplies the necessary background for the Pauline use of the adoption metaphor is 2 Samuel 7.14.91 It is God’s covenant with King David and the subsequent ‘son’ language, which prepares Paul for his use of the term ‘adoption’. Even though the term υἱοθεσία does not occur in the Septuagint, Scott draws a number of references to potential adoptions. It appears at least from the redrawn lineage in Genesis – that Jacob has adopted Ephraim and Manasseh (Genesis 86. Byrne, Sons of God, 109. 87. James M. Scott, Adoption as Sons of God: An Exegetical Investigation into the Background of [Huiothesia] in the Pauline Corpus, WUNT 43 (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1992). 88. Scott investigates the following terms: εἰσποιεῖν surfaces negatively in Plutarch in a comment about Alexander’s adoption (Scott, Adoption as Sons, 15): ἐκποίητος also appears in a religious sense when there is an adoption ‘out of ’ a family or when ‘Plutarch likens moral transformation and forgiveness to being “given in adoption” out of the family of evil’ (Scott, Adoption as Sons, 27). ποιεῖσθαι and υἱοποιείσθαι show similar features. τίθεσθαι is also used to describe the ‘placing of a son’ in another home (Scott, Adoption as Sons, 39). 89. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 267. 90. Regarding the abundant supply of inscriptions and papyri, Scott notes: ‘Although it is very common in Hellenistic inscriptions … υἱοθεσία occurs rarely in literary sources of the period under consideration. Similarly, many of the foregoing terms of adoption that occur commonly in literary sources appear seldom, if at all, in the inscriptions. Despite some overlap, there is a marked difference between literary and non-literary types of sources.’ (Scott, Adoption as Sons, 45). 91. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 268, 269, cf. 96.

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48.5-6).92 It also appears that adoption figures prominently in Exodus 2.10 and Esther 2.7, 15.93 Philo and Josephus use the language of adoption to describe Moses’ adoption by Pharaoh and Sarah’s encouragement to Abraham to take Hagar’s son as his own.94 This allows for Scott to transition to his discussion of 2 Samuel 7.14 and the covenant that God establishes with David. The covenant language between God and David is analogous to an adoption of the sort that Paul will later characterize in Galatians and Romans.95 Scott makes the connection between 2 Samuel 7.14 and Psalm 2.9 to substantiate his claim that God is not just adopting the king, but the nation of Israel as a whole.96 Judaism uses covenantal language in a way that Scott says is adoptive.97 After presenting the case that 2 Corinthians 6.18 shows a parallel dependence on 2 Samuel 7.14, Scott demonstrates that Paul’s use of the adoption formula in Romans 8.15 and 23 builds upon the themes developed in Galatians.98 Scott observes that the church fathers Irenaeus and Cyril of Alexandria connected Romans 1.4 and 8.15, 23 by seeing the term ὀρισθείς, ‘designated’, as a term of adoption.99 Scott discusses Paul’s claim for Jesus’ messiahship in 1.3-4, but concludes that the connection between Jesus and David ‘in the flesh’ further

92. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 73. Scott has been engaging Herbert Donner, ‚Adoption oder Legitimation? Erwägungen zur Adoption im Alten Testament auf dem Hintergrund der altorientalischen Rechte’, Oriens Antiquus 8 (1969): 87–119 and Marek Kuryłowicz, Die Adoptio im klassischen römischen Recht (Warszawa: Wydawnictwa Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego, 1981). The main contention that Scott makes is that the two scholars define adoption in a much too restrictive way. By doing so, Donner is not able to appreciate the references to a potential adoption in the Old Testament. 93. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 74. 94. In The Life of Moses (1.19), for example, υἱον ποιεῖται is used to describe the adoption of Moses. Philo also predicates patrimony for Abraham and extends that patrimony to the entire human race. (Scott, Adoption as Sons, 76, 93). 95. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 102. 96. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 100–1. 97. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 103. 98. Scott interprets Galatians 4 by noticing that the inheritance language that Paul uses is dependent on the sending formula in verse 5 and connected to the Exodus narrative. (Scott, Adoption as Sons, 134). The next step for Scott is to connect Paul’s argument in Galatians 4 with the eschatological import of the passages referring to a possible adoption in 4QFlor. 1.11; Jub. 1.14; and TJud. 24.3. This relationship affords Scott the option of further bridging the gap between Galatians and 2 Samuel 7.14. (Scott, Adoption as Sons, 178–9). 99. Irenaeus, Adv. Haer. 3.19.1 (Scott, Adoption as Sons, 221) and Cyril, Fragmenta in epistolam ad Romanos, ed. P. E. Pusey, Sancti patris nostril Cyrilli archiepiscopi Alexandrini in D. Joannis evangelium, 3 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1872; repr. edn, Brussels: Culture et Civilisation, 1965), vol. 3, 175. (Scott, Adoption as Sons, 222 n.7).



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connects 2 Samuel 7.14 to the paradigm that Paul has in mind.100 There are many parallels between Galatians 4.4-7 and Romans 8.14-17.101 Scott determines that similarities in usage and theme contribute to a mutual dependence on the thematic materials related to 2 Samuel 7.14 and the covenant made between God and David, and the rest of David’s line. This also allows Scott to connect the thematic and linguistic uses of inheritance language in Paul with similar Old Testament texts. Scott suggests that the Spirit is a bridge for the children of God between now and the time of God’s eschatological glory.102 How does the Spirit do this? Scott states, ‘The Spirit of υἱοθεσία is thereby instrumental in freeing the sons from slavery – whether from slavery leading again unto fear of condemnation under the law or from bondage to decay with the rest of creation.’103 In addition, as Scott states, the Spirit ‘mediates the present experience of divine adoptive sonship by effecting the same cry of ‘Abba’ with which the earthly Jesus addressed God (and possibly taught his disciples to pray), showing again that the sons share in the sonship of the Son.’104 Scott connects the reality of sonship with the ministry of Jesus. It is possible that Judaism contributes to Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor in Galatians and in Romans as Scott argues. The Hebrew Scriptures clearly show a familiarity with the idea of the Fatherhood of God in regard to both God’s people and the rest of the world. Scott makes the argument that 2 Samuel 7.14 is determinative in the further connection between the covenant and Paul’s idea of adoption. Making this connection allows Scott to tie the present and future aspects of adoptive sonship together. What is unclear, however, is just how the Spirit is connected to the metaphor of adoption. What is also not clear is why Scott must rule the Greco-Roman context quickly out of order as it pertains to a possible Pauline antecedent.

Modern scholarship on Pauline pneumatology There have been many contributions that investigate Paul’s understanding of the Spirit. Primary significance is accorded to Hermann Gunkel, Friedrich Horn and Troels Engberg-Pedersen. Gordon Fee and John Bertone have also investigated Paul’s pneumatology as it is applied in Romans. A seminal work on the Holy Spirit, The Influence of the Holy Spirit: The Popular View of the Apostolic Age and the Teaching of the Apostle Paul, was the first piece of academic work that Gunkel produced in 1888.105 Gunkel investigates the effect 100. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 238. 101. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 250. 102. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 259. 103. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 260. 104. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 261, 262. 105. Hermann Gunkel, The Influence of the Holy Spirit: The Popular View of the Apostolic Age and the Teaching of the Apostle Paul: a Biblical-Theological Study, trans. Roy A. Harrisville and Philip A Quanbeck II (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979).

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that the Holy Spirit has on the community of believers in the apostolic age.106 In distinction from the prophets in the Hebrew Scriptures, the Spirit accompanies the community, not just individuals.107 According to Gunkel, Paul’s notions of the Spirit do not come from the Hebrew Scriptures.108 The Corinthian correspondence demonstrates that Paul was a preeminent pneumatic since the experience of the Spirit pervades Paul’s practice of preaching and ministry.109 Paul felt the Spirit at work within him and ‘… thus perceived the Spirit by the same symptoms and evaluated them just as they did … the Spirit is an absolutely supernatural, divine power.’110 The ecstatic ‘Abba!’ cry in the heart of the believer is the evidence that Paul provides in Romans 8.15 of the Spirit’s arrival.111 The influence and possession of the Spirit convinced Paul ‘that Christians, precisely because they have received the Spirit from God, can be certain he will also give them a share in the heavenly inheritance.’112 Paul evaluates the effects of the Spirit in different ways. ‘The gifts of the Spirit have ethical significance.’113 Gunkel connects Paul’s teaching about the Spirit to his conversion, which represents a complete, and total break with what he had been taught.114 Perhaps in terms that recall the light from heaven, Paul thinks of the Spirit in terms of the mysterious and supernatural power of God and in connection with the earliest Christian community.115 There were numerous additions to the debate on Pauline pneumatology subsequent to Hermann Gunkel.116 Friedrich Horn’s book, Das Angeld des Geistes: Studien zur paulinischen Pneumatologie, is a description of Pauline pneumatology that allows for the differences among Paul’s uses of the term in his letters.117 The first part of the book deals with the background for Paul’s pneumatology analyzed from the perspectives of Hellenistic and Palestinian Judaism. Horn supposes that the Hellenistic context for spirit language relates to either 106. Gunkel, Influence, 33, 40. 107. Gunkel, Influence, 42. 108. Gunkel, Influence, 76. 109. Gunkel, Influence, 77. 110. Gunkel, Influence, 79. 111. Gunkel, Influence, 79. 112. Gunkel, Influence, 82. 113. Gunkel, Influence, 89. 114. Gunkel, Influence, 94–5. 115. Gunkel, Influence, 95. 116. See, for example, Otto Everling, Die paulinische Angelologie und Dämonologie; ein biblisch-theologischer Versuch (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1888), Heinrich Weinel, Die Wirkungen des Geistes und der Geister im nachapostolischen Zeitalter bis auf Irenäus (Freiburg: J. C. B. Mohr, 1899), Emil Sokolowski, Geist und Leben nach den Schriften des Paulus (Heiligenstadt: Brunn‘sche Buchdruckerei, 1903), Martin Dibelius, Die Geisterwelt im Glauben des Paulus (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1909). 117. Friedrich Wilhelm Horn, Das Angeld des Geistes: Studien zur paulinischen Pneumatologie, FRLANT 154 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992).



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the function or the substance of the spirit as an eschatological being given to the people of God. The function and substance of the spirit both relate to the behaviour of the people of God.118 Horn traces a similar view of the spirit through the exilic prophets and then also through the Dead Sea Scrolls.119 The development of Paul’s pneumatology shows a dependence on the apocalyptic and eschatological tenor of Judaism, on the one hand, but also reflects a broader understanding of the philosophical milieu that included Philo.120 The results of this combination, according to Horn, are shown in several main categories. The Spirit makes the act of preaching effective.121 Paul links the spirit to prophecy and the prophetic message of the Hebrew Scriptures.122 The reality of the Spirit’s presence results in an ethic of sanctification.123 It is in this context that Horn discusses Paul’s connection between adoption and identity.124 Comparing Galatians and Romans, Horn’s interpretation is strictly through a legal lens where the juridical term ‘adoption’ yields a new status for the people of God.125 According to Horn, the use of the term ἀρραβῶνα shows that Paul considered the nature of the Spirit in substantial kinds of terms. With this use, Horn notices Paul’s description of the Spirit as already effecting eschatological life in believers and, at the same time, anticipating future glorification.126 The presence of the Spirit is the ‘first-fruits’ of the resurrection of Christ. It is the work of the Holy Spirit in the sacraments that show how Paul’s ‘substantial’ understanding bridges the gap in Horn’s interpretation of eschatology and ethics. The deposit of the Spirit, made real in the sacraments, translates into the sanctified life of the believer.127 As it applies to Romans 8, Horn interprets the adoption passage in juridical language and with reference to Galatians. Apart from the connection with Romans 8.23, Horn allows for Galatians and Romans to have identical interpretations. No distinction is drawn and, despite the potential for such discussions, Horn does not investigate the possibilities for Roman Imperial antecedents for Pauline language that might connect the Spirit with adoption. Troels Engberg-Pedersen devotes considerable energy on Paul’s pneumatology in his book, Cosmology and Self in the Apostle Paul.128 Paul’s idea about what the spirit ‘is’ must not be treated in a Jewish as opposed to non-Jewish, immaterial 118. Horn, Das Angeld, 56. 119. Horn, Das Angeld, 57–9. 120. Horn, Das Angeld, 384. 121. Horn, Das Angeld, 385. 122. Horn, Das Angeld, 386. 123. Horn, Das Angeld, 387. 124. Horn, Das Angeld, 398. 125. Horn, Das Angeld, 398. 126. Horn, Das Angeld, 389. 127. Horn, Das Angeld, 400. 128.  Troels Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, Paul in His Hellenistic Context, and Paul and the Stoics.

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over and against material, supernatural from natural, or apocalyptic rather than anything else.129 Alluding to Dale Martin’s study, The Corinthian Body, EngbergPedersen argues for a Stoic and materialist understanding of spirit for Paul to supplement Paul’s Jewish antecedents.130 Engberg-Pedersen compares Cicero, Philo and Wisdom of Solomon in order to show that there were points of contact between Judaism and Stoicism that could work together.131 ‘In all this we find – though only in tantalizingly suggestive form – an attempt to fit the Jewish figure of ‘wisdom’ and the Jewish God into a Greek philosophical framework.’132 Working through 1 Corinthians 15, Engberg-Pedersen notes that the statements that compare the physical and the spiritual body (1 Cor. 15.44, 45) seem to indicate that Paul understood the spiritual body to be something rather than nothing.133 This may influence Paul to say that the spirit can be ‘poured out’ as in Romans 5.5. The argument advanced in 2 Corinthians 4 is that Paul’s physical body is withering away but Paul’s spiritual body is being renewed.134 The spirit, a form of fire in Stoicism, was viewed as an agent of transformation (Rom. 8.19-22, 1 Cor. 3.12-15)135 Engberg-Pedersen looks at Romans 8.10, 8.14-30, and 6.2-4. In Romans 8.10, the literal body is not dead, but the phrase carries with it the notion that the physical body may as well be dead. It is a hollow shell within which Christ’s πνεῦμα dwells and gives life.136 In 8.14-30, as in the passages that show the vitality of transformation, the Spirit is the agent of renewal and transformation. Juxtaposed with this notion of transformation, however, is the eschatological and apocalyptic notion of glory. The discussion rounds out with an appraisal of Romans 6, which does, in fact, bring baptism clearly into view. Drawing all of the evidence of the first two chapters of his book together, Engberg-Pedersen concludes that Paul does, indeed, have a materialist conception 129. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 15. 130. Engberg-Perdersen, Cosmology, 16. See also Martin, The Corinthian Body. 131. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 24. 132. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 24. The argument is made that the author of Wisdom of Solomon is using Platonist language for God in the midst of a Stoic context in order to create some kind of synthesis. I understand what Engeberg-Pedersen means here but I would posit that the author of Wisdom is using the Jewish theological terminology for a personal God. The use of terms like “above” and “behind” may not completely signify a Platonizing intent. 133. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 28. 134. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 48. 135. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 36. 136. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 52. ‘Their bodies are actually dead- atrophied- and what gives them life both now and in the future is the pneuma within them that they have received as part of having been made righteous’. There is only one situation that will support both Paul’s statement and Engberg-Pedersen’s claim. Baptism must be part of the equation. For Paul, this is a key ingredient in the transaction of the spirit but EngbergPedersen does not account for it.



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of the spirit and it flavors all of Paul’s work. An appreciation for this aspect of Paul’s thinking and writing will impact the interpretation of Romans 8:12-17. John Bertone explores the way in which Spirit and law work together (or not) in Romans 8. Bertone’s argument is based on a theory of cognitive dissonance, where the Spirit provides the impetus for the ability to follow the law, and yet displaces the law from a place of primary significance. He does not engage the scholarship on the Roman Imperial context. The metaphor of adoption is simply stated, not analyzed, and not connected with the Spirit apart from the function of the Spirit in regard to the law.137 A final note may be given in regard to Gordon Fee’s book, God’s Empowering Presence.138 Fee discusses every text in Paul that mentions the Spirit. His exegesis is thorough and the attempt is made to leave no stone unturned. Despite this aspect of the text, however, Fee remains among the interpreters that view Paul’s pneumatology primarily from an experiential dimension. There is a concern throughout the text to connect exegesis to the practice of the faith and the experience of the Holy Spirit on the part of the believer. Fee also offers an apology for the character of the Holy Spirit as a unique person in the Trinity. There is only limited discussion regarding adoption and the Spirit. Fee locates the connection between the two in an experiential understanding of the way that the Spirit validates the status of the children of God.

Conclusion Interpreters of Paul’s letters have treated the letter to the Romans, the Roman Imperial context, and Roman religion as separate entities. At points, two of these areas may be held together, but scholars rarely note the ways that all three coalesce in Paul. Only when the three large areas are allowed to overlap can a picture emerge that might prove to be decisive in the interpretation of Romans 8.

137. John A. Bertone, The Law of the Spirit’: Experience of the Spirit and Displacement of the Law in Romans 8.1–16 (New York: Peter Lang, 2005). 138. Gordon D. Fee, God’s Empowering Presence: The Holy Spirit in the Letters of Paul (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1994).

Chapter 3 T H E R OM A N I M P E R IA L C O N T E X T : P O L I T IC S , R E L IG IO N A N D F A M I LY

Introduction There are many ways to approach the Roman Imperial context. Certainly Roman politics in the period of transition between the Republic and Empire garners the majority of scholarship and attention. The intrigue, political maneuvering, the military campaigns, along with a legendary assassination, make this preference perfectly understandable. What is less understood among New Testament scholars is the way that religion and politics mutually reinforced one another in the first-century.1 The separation of church and state is a relatively recent phenomenon.2 In Rome, the practice of religion was viewed as one of the reasons for geopolitical success.3 When Augustus 1. Of the twenty-one articles in J. Paul Sampley’s Paul in the Greco-Roman World (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 2003), none are explicitly concerned with the interaction between Paul and Roman religion. Likewise, Gordon D. Fee, Sven Soderlund, and N. T. Wright, Romans and the People of God: Essays in Honor of Gordon D. Fee on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999). See Ch. 2 n.1; Lopez, Rock, and Pillar. 2. Brent Nongbri makes the argument that the term ‘religion’ takes on its modern character only in opposition to ‘secular.’ The development has its origin in the discussion of tolerance in the fifteenth–seventeenth centuries. See Nongbri, Before Religion, Ch. 6, Kindle book. 3. This point is made by Christopher Koch in his essay, ‘Roman State Religion in the Mirror of Augustan and Late Republican Apologetics’, in Roman Religion, ed. Clifford Ando (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2003), 296–329, 296. One comment bears quotation in full: ‘The imperium Romanum should not be separated from its religious mythos.’ For the purposes of this book, though, I continue to use the terms ‘religious’ and ‘political’ for the sake of understanding. We realize that they perpetually go together but I use religion’ to convey the sense of cultus and ‘political’ to denote the rule of law in Rome. See Ando, The Matter of the Gods, 1. Ando quotes Valerius Maximus and Cicero at length to emphasize the point that all three major religious facets: sacrifice, augury, and interpretation of the oracles, played a role in the benefit of the Roman people and state.

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read out the declaration of war against Egypt, politics, religion and the military pursuit of Empire are all interconnected: ‘Hear, Jupiter, and you, Janus Quirinus, and all you heavenly gods and terrestrial gods and gods of the underworld: I bear witness to you that this nation is unjust and is not making proper restitution.’4 Religion and politics were intertwined in the early Roman Empire. The right performance of cult, the correct and timely propitiation of a god, the solicitation of the auspices, or the application of evocatio (the summoning of a god or gods) were all used to approximate some sort of political or military guarantee.5 When things did not go as planned, leaders scrutinized religious practice in similar ways as they examined political or military maneuvering. The purpose of this chapter is to present the features of Roman Imperial politics and religion in order to assess the points of contact that are possible between Paul and Caesar. In order to suggest some of these points of contact, Roman politics and religion must be surveyed as a whole, with particular attention to Paul’s mention of the Spirit in connection with the idea of adoption. Also important to the investigation is the matter of prevalence: How likely is it that Paul would have been influenced by or acquainted with the political and religious perspective of the Roman Empire? Where would the points of contact have occurred? This investigation will necessitate a look at the practices of religion in the Roman household, and a cursory glance at Roman numismatics, as possible locations for Pauline interaction with the Roman Imperial cult. In addition, it must be recognized that Roman Imperial iconography had thoroughly saturated the landscape of Paul’s world. It is highly relevant to the interpretation of Romans 8 that the combination between Roman politics and Roman religion occurs in the area of adoption. Specifically, the posthumous adoption of Octavian by Julius Caesar had political and religious significance that resulted in the worship (or at least veneration) of the emperor’s genius, or guardian family spirit, in the Empire at large and Rome itself. A proper understanding of Paul’s mention of the ‘spirit’ in connection with the adoption metaphor in Romans 8 requires an interpretation that is embedded in the nexus of Roman religion and politics in the context of Roman history.

Adoption and family in the Roman Imperial context Scholarship on Romans 8 has explored the connections that link Paul to Judaism and Paul’s pneumatology to eschatology. Interpreters have been less successful in finding any antecedent for the Pauline metaphor of adoption in the context of Judaism. Locating Paul’s adoption motif within the matrix of Judaism does well as long as the term ‘adoption’ itself is not the focus of attention. Of course, kinship 4. Koch, ‘Roman State Religion’, 297. See Livy, I.32.9–10. 5. Ando, The Matter of the Gods, 130, ‘Evocatio has obvious appeal: employing it, a general could avoid sacrilege even as he convinced his own troops that success was virtually guaranteed’.



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among the people of God in the Hebrew Scriptures is significant. On the other hand, the metaphoric potential of adoption has not been investigated from the point of view of the Roman Imperial context. It is suggestive that the most famous adoption in all of human history happens in the very city that Paul addresses. From Julius Caesar to Octavian: Divine honours, adoption and Imperial strategy When Julius Caesar visited Egypt and Asia, he became familiar with the idea that kings could be regarded as divine. The combination of his own family genealogy and his fateful trip to Egypt were factors that contributed to Julius Caesar’s own self-understanding.6 In 48 bc, Julius Caesar identified himself as a god by initiating the cult of Venus Genetrix in Rome.7 Caesar’s coin issues, as the civil war went on, placed him in close symbolic connection with the goddesses of Victory and Venus.8 The Julians traced their lineage to Aeneas and to the goddess Venus. Julius Caesar is the first to replace the image of a god with his own image on a denarius.9 In the same year, 45 bc, honours were voted Julius Caesar that soon showed his full identification with divinity.10 Caesar had already assumed the office of Pontifex Maximus in 63 bc, and the new honours placed the chief political role and the chief religious role in the hands of the same person.11 Taylor notes that in addition to the image on the coin, Julius was voted a statue in the temple of Quirinius and at the Ludi Victoriae Caesari: ‘Caesar’s gold and ivory image was borne with the images of the gods in the solemn procession to the Circus Maximus and was placed on a pillowed couch with all his attributes about it.’12 In addition to the honours he received as Pontifex Maximus, Caesar was voted parens patriae by the senate.13 According to Taylor, ‘This was a title which emphasized the paternal relation to the state which the king had once had and which Caesar’s office of Pontifex Maximus had already given him. In line with this relation also was the provision that men should swear by his Genius, just as the household swore by the Genius of the master.’14 In 44 bc Caesar was decreed to be a divinity of the state, was given a cult name (Divus Iulius), a priest (flamen), a temple, and

6. Lily Ross Taylor, Divinity, 59. 7. Weinstock, Divus Julius, 85. See also Duncan Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 74. 8. Weinstock, Divus Julius, 94–7. 9. Taylor, Divinity, 66, also shows a plate with the coin portraying Julius in the spot where, traditionally, a god would have been shown. 10. Weinstock, Divus Julius, 280. 11. Weinstock, Divus Julius, 275–7. 12. Taylor, Divinity, 66, Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 74. 13. Taylor, Divinity, 67. 14. Taylor, Divinity, 67, who cites ‘Dio XLIV, 6, 1: τήν τε τύχην αὐτοῦ ὀμνύναι. In the Hellenistic East it was customary to swear by the τύχη of the king, and the Latin Genius is frequently rendered by the word.’ Dio 44, 4–6; App. B.C. II, 106 give the best descriptions of the accorded honours for Julius.

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a sacred couch – pulvinar – for his image.15 Julius Caesar was honoured as divine in his lifetime and was accorded divine status by the establishment of the cult.16 How had Rome arrived at the place where a living person could be given such honours? From the earliest period, the scheme of honours per benefactions was in place so that those who had done the most good could be honoured with a cult at their death.17 With his stunning victories and rapid conquest of the known world, Alexander the Great amassed more power, influence, and status than any other individual. Alexander’s recognition of his divine status, along with his military success contributed to the institution of cults in his honour in cities all over the Greek East.18 The establishment of a cult for a benefactor of a city was not extraordinary, in and of itself.19 Greek city-states might institute a cult and pay divine honours to an individual who offered considerable benefits to a city.20 Apart from any theological

15. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 54, 55. Gradel continues: ‘These honours represent all the paraphernalia of the main gods of the Roman state. A persistent branch of scholarship has denied that the Senate ever deified Caesar in his lifetime. This view is untenable unless we simply rewrite the sources, something which has in fact been done too much.’ Lily Ross Taylor notes: ‘But the final step came when the senate decreed him to be a god and commanded the erection of a temple to him and his Clementia, thus formally providing for his enshrinement in state cult. At the same time they instituted a priesthood in his honour, appointing Antony to it, “like a flamen Dialis” says Dio. The last honour is the most significant of all … The appointment of a special priest therefore put Caesar in a peculiar position of pre-eminence in the Roman state religion’ (Taylor, Divinity, 68. Dio 44, 6, 4). 16. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 57. Gradel remarks about the ways that scholars have worked around the idea that Julius could really have been given divine honours: ‘The protracted discussions on the issue do not, I believe, primarily reflect any uncertainty or ambiguity in our sources, but rather the fact that the measures have seemed so strange and alien to scholars that outright rejection or forced interpretation of the evidence have seemed the only alternatives to accepting such proposals.’ (Gradel, Emperor Worship, 57). 17. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 3. There is a point of disagreement, of sorts, between Fishwick, Gradel, and Taylor that does not at all impact the overall argument. The fact that the sources show that he was, in fact, considered divine (or semi-divine) is all that is necessary. Julius was deified and that presented the possibility that Octavian could consider himself to be the son of a god. 18. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 8. In reference to Alexander, see also: Taylor, Divinity, 13. 19. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 8. Gradel makes this point in regard to the Romans when he says, ‘Temples, priests, and sacrifices were the ingredients of the highest or divine or heavenly honours (summi, divini, caelestes honores), and such were the most prestigious honours known to men’ (Gradel, Emperor Worship, 25, 26). 20. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, p. 11; G. W. Bowersock, Augustus and the Greek World (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), 16.



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significance, the ascription of divine honours for an individual simply expressed superhuman status, not divine nature, as such.21 Various honours could be afforded a person whose benefactions impacted a city. A person could be given an epithet such as εὐεργέτης or σωτήρ, both of which could be appended to the honouree’s name.22 Closer to the religious and divine sense are the epithets ἐπιφανής or θέος.23 Additional honours might include inscriptions, statues, and the dedication of temples.24 A person might be termed a ‘New Dionysus’, like Antony, or a ‘New Isis’, like Cleopatra, an insight crucial to an appreciation of the Roman context. Whether this message appeared on coins or in inscriptions, it does not imply ‘incarnation’, but rather identification of the contemporary person with the traits of the god.25 Perhaps rooted in the large number of deities that the Romans worshipped, or the reluctance of the Republic to move to a monarchy, it is not until Julius Caesar that divine honours are granted to (or at least implied for) a living person. Whatever the cause, Julius Caesar decided to follow a path toward deification in the style of the East. At his assassination, the crowds who gathered for his funeral tried to inter him in the temple of Jupiter on the Capitol.26 The move signaled that, at the popular level, Caesar was regarded as divine. The days following the assassination of Julius Caesar were chaotic. Cicero put a motion forward in the senate that confirmed Caesar’s legacy and also provided amnesty for the assassins. With an anxious army on the outskirts of town and a dead Imperator inside of town, Julius Caesar went from suspect to martyr. Other than Caesarion, the child of Julius and Cleopatra, Caesar was childless at the time of his death. The closest male relatives were Lucius Pinarius, Quintas Pedius, and Gaius Octavius.27 When Caesar’s will was read publicly, it was disclosed that Octavian had been named beneficiary to three-quarters of the estate and the other two grand nephews were to split the remaining one-quarter. Soldiers had to be paid for their service, and political favours would need to be paid back to supporters. These were the responsibilities of the successor to Julius Caesar’s hard fought victories and demonstrated he intended for Octavian to rule in his place.28 The choice of Octavian as Julius Caesar’s heir and adopted son was the central concern in the will. Everything that follows from this moment draws significance 21. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 13. 22. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 27. Fishwick cites L. Robert, Le Sanctuaire de Sinuri près de Mylasa, I, Les Inscriptions grecques (Paris: Mèmoires de I’Inst. Françsais d’Arch. De Stamboul 7, 1945), 23. 23. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 28. 24. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 29. 25. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 30. 26. Taylor, Divinity, 71. Dio 44. 50. 2. 27. Werner Eck, The Age of Augustus, trans. Deborah Lucas Schneider (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 7; Syme, The Roman Revolution, 112. 28. Eck, Age of Augustus, 8.

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from this adoption. It is the most significant adoption in all of human history. Karl Galinsky writes that: Being a mere 18 years old at the time of Caesar’s death and having no political or military resume, Octavian literally had to hitch his star to Julius Caesar’s: a comet appeared in the summer of 44 bc and Octavian saw to its interpretation as the soul of Caesar ascending to divinity. The star was subsequently affixed to all representations of Caesar, including coins. Caesar now was a divus, which made his adoptive son divi filius, son of the divine, and the letters DF became part of his name wherever it appeared, in inscriptions and on the coinage in particular.29

The significance of the adoption was not lost on the 19-year-old Octavian. Once adopted by Julius, Octavian decided to maintain a dominant position in the state while avoiding the tragic outcome of his adoptive father.30 Antony soon treated the situation as a direct threat on his own claim to power.31 Taylor reports that Antony had somehow seized most of the inheritance that Octavian was due, but Octavian, seeking the support of the populace, divested himself of his own money, in order to give the stipend associated with Caesar’s will to each citizen of Rome. This was accompanied by a celebration of Caesar by Octavian with the ludi Victoriae Caesaris.32 It was at this critical juncture that an accompanying marvel from nature happened to support Octavian’s case for Julius Caesar’s divinity before the people of Rome. Taylor quotes Pliny’s account of Octavian’s own words: During the very time of my games a comet was seen for seven days in the northern region of the sky. It would rise about the eleventh hour and was very bright and conspicuous in all lands. This comet, the people thought, indicated that Caesar’s soul had been received among the immortal gods. For that reason, this symbol was placed above the head of the statue of Caesar, which I consecrated in the Forum soon afterwards.33

The institution of the games and the appearance of the comet had a transformative and affirming effect on Octavian.34 The articulations of the event by Virgil in the 29. Karl Galinsky, ‘Continuity and Change: Religion in the Augustan Semi-Century’, in A Companion to Roman Religion, ed. Jörg Rüpke (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2007), 71–82, 80. 30.  Walter Eder, ‘Augustus and the Power of Tradition’, in The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Augustus, trans. Karl Galinsky (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 13–32, 17. 31. Taylor, Divinity, 82; Gradel, Emperor Worship, 57. 32. Taylor, Divinity, 89, 90. 33. Taylor, Divinity, 90, 91; citing Pliny, N.H. II, 94; cf. Syme, The Roman Revolution, 117. 34. Taylor, Divinity, 91.



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Eclogues, and the promotion of the event on a coin tell of the power of the comet’s appearance on Octavian, as well as the populace of Rome. Virgil, reprising Horace perhaps, puts the following words to Lycidas’ character: ‘Daphnis, why are you gazing at the old constellation rising? See! The star of Caesar, seed of Dione, has gone forth- the star to make the fields glad with corn, and the grape deepen its hue on the sunny hills.’35 This is not the first time that the person of Octavian, at the beginning of his rise to power, had occasioned a comment with such hopeful optimism from Virgil’s pen. Virgil’s fourth Eclogue strikes the same tone and establishes a connection between Octavian and Apollo. Now is come the last age of Cumaean song; the great line of the centuries begins anew. Now the Virgin returns, the reign of Saturn returns; now a new generation descends from heaven on high. Only do you, pure Lucina, smile on the birth of the child, under whom the iron brood shall at last cease and a golden race spring up throughout the world! Your own Apollo now is king! And in your consulship, Pollio, yes, yours shall this glorious age begin, and the mighty months commence their march; under your sway any lingering traces of our guilt shall become void and release the earth from its continual dread. He shall have the gift of divine life, shall see heroes mingled with gods, and shall himself be seen by them, and shall rule the world to which his father’s prowess brought peace … But as soon as you can read of the glories of heroes and your father’s deeds, and can know what valour is, slowly will the plains yellow with the waving corn, on wild brambles the purple grape will hang, and the stubborn oak distil dewy honey.36

Virgil has also given the first instance of worship given to Octavian. The first Eclogue preserves the overflowing gratitude of the poet when his father’s farm is spared from the confiscation of land that Octavian used to pay Caesar’s soldiers. Meliboeus: You, Tityrus, lie under the canopy of a spreading beech, wooing the woodland Muse on slender reed, but we are leaving our country’s bounds and sweet fields. We are outcast from our country; you, Tityrus, at ease beneath the shade, teach the woods to re-echo “fair Amaryllis.” Tityrus: O Meliboeus, it is a god who gave us this peace- for a god he shall ever be to me; often shall a tender lamb from our folds stain his altar. Of his grace my kine roam, as you see, and I, their master, play what I will on my rustic pipe.37 35. Virgil, Eclogues, 9.47 (Fairclough and Goold: LCL). 36. Virgil, Eclogues, IV.5–15, 26–9 (Fairclough: LCL). Fishwick notes that ‘at all events Virgil was closely attuned to the ideas of Octavian: the fifth and ninth Eclogues appear to celebrate Divus Iulius and the child of the fourth Eclogue reflects the mentality of a period ready to recognize the superhumanity and nearness to the gods as exemplified in an exceptional individual’ (Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 78; cf. Syme, The Roman Revolution, 218). 37. Virgil, Eclogues. 1.1–10, (Fairclough: LCL).

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It was not Caesarion who began to garner divine honours; it was the adopted son, Octavian.38 Around 36 bc, while Antony was putting the finishing touches on an entirely different identity in the East, Octavian finally dropped the Gaius from his name and adopted the title Divi Filius on the coin issues in Rome. As he adopted this new title, the other members of the triumvirate disappeared from the minted coins.39 Adoption to Augustus, the political and religious reconstruction of Augustan Rome After Octavian’s victory at Actium, he remained in the East for nearly a year and styled himself after a Pharaoh, setting up a prefect to rule in his absence.40 The Alexandrians finished a temple that had been meant to honour Antony and dedicated it to Octavian, instead.41 Other cities in the East followed suit in according Octavian divine honours. The goddess Roma and Julius, now Divus Julius, were given sacred precincts in Ephesus and Nicea.42 Since the deification of Caesar, Octavian’s auctoritas (personal weightiness, influence, and, in some sense power) had grown exponentially.43 His posthumous adoption gave Octavian a claim to the fortune, military, and power that Julius Caesar accumulated. With the consolidation of power in Italy and victory in the East, no one could rival Octavian in terms of auctoritas. In 27 bc the continuing spiral of ascent that Octavian experienced moved the Roman Senate to give him the title of Imperator Caesar Augustus; a name that evoked a sense of divine favour and also connected him with the founding of Rome.44 Augustus was determined to bring the period of civil war to a close and usher in an age of peace and blessing. The anticipation of peace and blessing can be documented inside of temples, on inscriptions, and in the poetry that looked forward to the fulfillment of Rome’s destiny.45 Clark provides the description of representative coin issues: ‘The portrayal of the personification [of Spes, or hope] … is usually shown as an archaic kore advancing as she holds a flower in one hand, 38. Taylor, Divinity, 128. See also, Syme, The Roman Revolution, 215–20; 265–75. 39. Taylor, Divinity, 131; Grueber, Coins of the Roman Republic in the British Museum, II (London: Longman and Co., 1910), 2–3. 40. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 81. See also, Taylor, Divinity, 142–3. 41. Taylor, Divinity, 146. 42. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 73, Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 77. 43. Galinsky takes great lengths to define this term that Augustus uses to define his own power in the Res Gestae, 34.1–3. The term ‘expresses “material, intellectual, and moral superiority” and is “the ultimate power of the emperor on the moral level”’ (Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 12–13). See J. Hellegouarc’h, Le vocabulaire latin des relations et des partis politiques sous la République (Les Belles Letters, 1972), 302. See also Gradel, 113–14 who notes that the term ‘augustus can be seen as basically a somewhat obscure synonym for the more straightforward divinus.’ 44. Beard, North, and Price, Religions of Rome, 182. 45. Mark Edward Clark, ‘Spes in the Early Imperial Cult: “The Hope of Augustus”’, Numen 30/1 (1983): 80–105, 80.



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while lifting her dress with the other. Her most popular designation in Imperial western coinage, moreover, was SPES AUGUSTA, “the hope of Augustus.”’46 Among the poets, Virgil emphasizes Octavian’s youth as an aspect of divinity, celebrates Divus Iulius in the Eclogues, and reflects the hope of the coming new age.47 In the western provinces, peace, blessing, and prosperity also brought increased honours for Augustus. Temples were built, inscriptions were made, and sacrifices were given in honour of Julius Caesar, Augustus’ divine father.48 Both Livy and Dio agree that Drusus established an altar to Augustus in Lugdunum in 12 bc.49 Coin issues present additional evidence of another Altar of the three Gauls, which has no direct literary witness but has survived through numismatic evidence.50 There was a priesthood established as well.51 Fishwick has unearthed pieces of evidence that point to the establishment of the Emperor Cult in the West from 12 bc onwards that would include sites such as ara Ubiorum52, Noricum53, and northwest Spain.54 Client kings and municipalities in the West take part, much like they do in the East, in the ascription of honours for Augustus and the establishment of temples and cult for the Emperor.55 The debate over whether Augustus received personal worship as a god during his lifetime depends on the interpretation of the source material. Taylor cites the language of the poets and writers that point in both directions. Like Julius Caesar, Augustus seems to have allowed personal devotion and worship in the provinces, but Taylor makes the case that Augustus did not receive personal worship as a god in Rome, although he may have thought that apotheosis might follow his death.56 The highest of the honours paid to Augustus that pointed to his divinity was the decree that a libation be poured out to his genius at every public and private banquet.57 Taylor makes a distinction between the genius, the family guardian spirit, and the person of Augustus himself. According to Taylor, Augustus was intent upon encouraging 46. Clark, ‘Spes’, p. 83. 47. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 78. 48. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 92. 49. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 97, Taylor, Divinity, 208. 50. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 112, 117, where he argues that the combination of Victories, laurels, and corona civica, seem to point in a direction that demonstrates the altar’s existence. 51. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 131. 52. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 138. 53. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 139. 54. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 141. 55. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 147. 56. Taylor states, ‘The worship of Divus Julius and the constant use of divi filius in Octavian’s name, of course, suggested that he too might eventually hope for the apotheosis which had come to his father’ (Taylor, Divinity, 149). 57. Taylor, Divinity,151. The view that Augustus’ genius was the object of worship throughout the provinces even though Augustus was not accorded divine status is supported by Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 84–90.

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personal worship on the part of those in Rome but that he only accepted the worship of his genius. After he became Pontifex Maximus in 12 bc, Augustus’ genius was put into an official oath and became the object of a state cult.58 The worship of state divinities was closely aligned to the emperor, as were the priesthoods, festivals, the titles of divi filius and Augustus so that the Emperor cult flourished.59 Gradel concludes that the living Emperor, Augustus and those who followed him in succession, received worship as a divinity in their lifetime. Gradel states that the, ‘ample evidence of private divine cults – temples, altars, sacrifices – dedicated to the living emperor, both in Rome itself and in the rest of Italy’ demonstrates that Dio’s assertion concerning the absence of worship for the emperor is incorrect.60 While Dio’s claim that the emperor received no worship may be technically correct (in the sense that it may not have been state sponsored), there is evidence in the private temples and cults showing that the living emperor was, indeed, worshipped in Rome and Italy.61 Gradel, relying on the extensive archaeological work of Heidi Hänlein-Schäfer, notes that there is a wealth of evidence pointing to the worship of the emperor himself in Rome and Italy, in his own lifetime. In Ostia, The temple dedicated to Roma and Augustus points to a possible date before Augustus’ death.62 The epigraphic data also points in the direction of priests and priesthoods for the worship of the Emperor during his lifetime.63 Gradel believes that the civic cults in Italy focused on the worship of the living emperor rather than the dead ones.64 The discussion between Gradel, Fishwick and Lily Ross Taylor depends on the interpretation of Cassius Dio. For our purposes, however, a decision about which interpretation is more plausible is not critical. What is significant, however, is the recognition that the genius of the Emperor was honoured and, to some extent, worshipped and that there were temples, priesthoods, and rituals that celebrated the divine status of the Emperor even during his lifetime. It is impossible to judge how thoroughly Paul or Paul’s audience knew of the distinction between the genius of the Emperor and the Emperor himself.65 58. Taylor, Divinity, 152, 216. 59. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 90. 60. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 75. Later, Gradel states, ‘… Dio is simply wrong. Inscriptions from all over Italy testify to the existence of temples, priests, and sacrifices to the living emperor, and the evidence is in fact most abundant from Augustus’ reign’ (Gradel, Emperor Worship, 77). 61. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 76. 62. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 83. Gradel states that: ‘We now know of sixteen public Imperial temples from Italy outside Rome; of these seven are Augustan, and only one or, at the most, two are certainly posthumous’ (Gradel, Emperor Worship, 84). 63. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 85. 64. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 91. 65. As far as I am aware, except for Michael Peppard, Sons of God, there have been no scholarly works in regard to Paul or Paul’s audience with regard to a familiarity with the Roman genius as a spiritual being or in terms of the Emperor cult.



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After Augustus’ name change, when it was voted that a libation be poured out in worship of his genius, Augustus began the task of religious restoration. When Augustus was officially elected as the Pontifex Maximus on 6 March 12 bc, he began the process of reorganizing the cult of the lares at the crossroads (compital cult) in Rome.66 The lares were the spirits/divinities of the city that were venerated in each neighbourhood. Previously the collegia, or associations charged with their veneration and worship, with games, and with festivals, had been curtailed because of civil unrest.67 Augustus, however, re-established the compital cults and included the worship of Genius Augusti.68 Freedmen and slaves, who willingly and enthusiastically gave the cult their support, administered the cult. Galinsky notes Ovid’s characterization of the compital cult from his Fasti: ‘I kept looking for the images of the twin gods: they had fallen into decay by the might of the years that dragged on. The city (now) has a thousand lares and the genius of the leader who delivered them, and the city wards worship a threesome of divine powers.’69 Rome was subdivided into 265 vici.70 At each of the crossroads for the districts, the lares compitales, the lares augusti, and the new third deity of the genius Augusti were all venerated.71 Primarily originating from the lower levels of Roman society, freedmen and slaves carried out sacrifices, organized fire-fighting, and prepared for the grain dole.72 Augustus’ own involvement in the cults and the promotion of those cults at a lower level of society contributed to their overwhelming popularity.73 The development of these cults into wider associations made it possible for people to participate in an effort to increase their social standing.74 What began with an adoption became the realization of divine status through the apotheosis of the father. Along with the timely appropriation of honours that exceeded all others, Octavian’s military success and statecraft allowed him to grow into his title. Augustus’ appropriation of certain divine qualities, the spread of temples and priesthoods, and even the use of the compital cults in Rome promoted a unified pattern of worship for the entire Empire.75 Towards the end of his reign, Augustus published the essential points of his life and the achievements of his rule in the Res Gestae Divi Augusti. While he does not cite the adoption by Julius Caesar as the pivotal event in his life, his adoptive father is certainly in view throughout the entire document. His claim to have raised an 66. Gradel notes that the year for the reorganization for the compital cults was ‘around 7 bc’ (Gradel, Emperor Worship, 116). 67. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 117. 68. Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 301. 69. Galinsky’s translation of Ovid, Fasti, 5: 129–48 (Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 301). 70. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 116; Dio 55.8.6; Suet. Aug. 30.1; Plin. Nat. Hist. 3.4.66. 71. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 117. 72. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 118. 73. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 121. 74. Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 324. 75. Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 330.

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army ‘at (his) own expense’ is dependent on the inheritance.76 Julius Caesar and the adoption that results in Augustus’ own rise to power and fortune, again come up in the next passage where Augustus states that he pursued the assassins of his father to exile, and then conquered them in two battles.77 Augustus cites two projects that have Caesar’s name attached. He states that he finished the Forum of Julius and the basilica, and then, in the next section, declares that he made offerings from the spoils of war in the temple of ‘divine Julius’, among other locations.78 While the term ‘adoption’ does not appear in the Res Gestae, the significance of the process and the event itself are everywhere supported by way of direct and indirect allusion. It is the decision by Caesar to adopt Octavian that makes every other item on the list possible. By his own hand, Augustus recognized that the adoption by Julius Caesar made his armies possible, his building projects relevant, and his priestly duties significant. Adoption and a plan for succession Even though Octavian’s adoption by Julius Caesar was the most significant adoption in all of human history, the aftermath of the reign of Augustus and a plan for succession depended on adoption as well.79 Sometime between 24 and 26 bc, Augustus evidently became obsessed with finding the right heir to whom he might pass on the monarchy. After his daughter Julia was married off to Claudius Marcellus and then Agrippa, Augustus, identified and adopted his future heirs, his grandsons Gaius Julius Caesar and Lucius Julius Caesar.80 Augustus also looked to the children of Livia from a previous marriage. Tiberius and Drusus were identified as potential candidates. Drusus was already married to an Augustan family member. Tiberius was forced to divorce his wife, Vipsania, daughter of Agrippa, and marry Julia as soon as her mourning period for Agrippa came to an end.81 Tiberius was not able to continue his self-imposed exile to Rhodes after the 76.  RG, 1. 77.  RG, 2. ‘Qui parentem meum trucidaverunt, eos in exilium expuli iudiciis legitimis ultus eorum facinus, et postea bellum inferentis rei publicae vici bis acie.’ 78.  RG, 20. ‘Forum Iulium et basilicam quae fuit inter aedem Castoris et aedem Saturni, coepta profligataque opera a patre meo, perfeci et eandem basilicam consumptam incendio, ampliato eius solo, sub titulo nominis filiorum meorum incohavi, et, si vivus non perfecissem, perfici ab heredibus meis iussi.’ RG 21, ‘Dona ex manibiis in Capitolio et in aede divi Iuli et in aede Apollinis.’ 79. Eck, Age of Augustus, 152. Eck also points out that Agrippa had been invested with so much power, it virtually eliminated the possibility that a rivalry could develop between the three- Agrippa, Gaius, and Lucius. 80. Geoffrey Walter Richardson, Theodore John Cadoux, Ernst Badian, ‘Julius Caesar (2), Gaius’, OCD (e-reference edition; Oxford University Press, Fordham University. 27 October 2011 http://www.oxford-classicaldictionary3.com/entry?entry=t111.e3395). 81. Eck, Age of Augustus, 153.



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untimely deaths of both Gaius and Lucius. The lengths to which Augustus went to insure a seamless succession show just how important adoption was to the preservation of the Empire. Augustus adopted Tiberius and Agrippa Julius Caesar. Augustus then forced Tiberius to adopt his nephew Germanicus.82 At Tiberius’ death, Caligula was elevated to the throne. The ill will that had accrued over the course of Tiberius’ reign allowed Gaius a bit of leeway as he began in 37 ad Adoption does not play a critical role in the accession of Claudius after Gaius was assassinated.83 The reign of Claudius was characterized by a series of inconsistencies. His judgements were misunderstood, even while he sought to create an air of diplomacy in his relations with the Senate.84 It was under Claudius that Philo of Alexandria made an appearance in Rome, and it was Claudius who issued the edict expelling the Jews from Rome in 49. At some point during his reign, Claudius adopted Nero, son of Agrippina, his third wife.85 About this, Suetonius remarks that, ‘towards the end of his life [Claudius] had shown some plain signs of repentance for his marriage with Agrippina and his adoption of Nero.’86 By the time of Claudius’ death Agrippina arranged for Nero to succeed him as Emperor. Throughout the early Empire, adoption was the primary means of Imperial succession. What is clear from these examples is that the preservation of the Empire was directly related to the legal option of adoption. Interestingly, however, Saller points out that while family relationships, estates, and power were transferred within the Julio-Claudian dynasty by means of adoption, this was not the case in Roman society at large: The Romans considered the bonds of family and kinship to be biologically based but not biologically determined. Roman law, to be sure, offered citizens a flexibility in restructuring their kinship bonds that was remarkable by later European standards: not only were divorce and remarriage easy in the classical period, but adoption permitted change of filiation. Nevertheless, adoption was apparently not so common as to vitiate a model of the kinship universe based on biological reproduction.87 82. John Percy, Vyvian Dacre Balsdon and Barbara M. Levick, ‘Tiberius’, OCD (e-reference edition; Oxford University Press. Fordham University. 27 October 2011 http://www.oxford-classicaldictionary3.com/entry?entry=t111.e6440). On the transition from Augustus to Tiberius, see Syme, The Roman Revolution, 437–9 and Barbara Levick, Claudius (New Haven: Yale University Press: 1990), 12. 83. Tessa Rajak, ‘Gaius (1)’, OCD (e-reference edition; Oxford University Press. Fordham University, 27 October 2011 http://www.oxford-classicaldictionary3.com/ entry?entry=t111.e2772). 84. Suetonius, The Deified Claudius, 12.3; 15.1, 2. 85. Suetonius, The Deified Claudius, 15.2. 86. Suetonius, The Deified Claudius, 18. 87. Richard Saller, Patriarchy, Property, and Death in the Roman Family (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 43.

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The Apostle Paul would have been familiar with the metaphor of adoption in the context of Imperial succession. Roman religion, coinage, and civic imagery all cooperated to solidify the metaphor of adoption in the mindset of residents of the Empire. Adoption was the key social construct for the preservation of Imperial power and made this metaphor accessible to Paul’s first-century Roman audience.88 Adoption had a direct bearing on the practice of Roman religion. When someone was adopted, not only did family relationships change, but worship changed also. The adoptive family spirits became the spirits of the adoptee. The adoptee was expected to preserve the family cult and celebrate the worship of the genius of his new family. This was the expectation, not only in the Roman domestic cult, but certainly in the newly developing Imperial cult. Each Emperor was expected to serve and promote the Imperial religion that was begun in earnest under Augustus. The legal forms of adoption, when applied to the highest-ranking family in the world, brought religious overtones, as well. Although Augustus may have deferred the notion of divinity while he was alive, that did not stop his successors either from fully dismissing the notion (Claudius) or from thoroughly embracing it (Caligula and Nero). The religious ideas that coalesced in Rome with the Imperial family may provide clues as to how Paul was able to use the term ‘spirit’ in order to qualify the kind of adoption that believers in Jesus experienced. The specific context where this would have impacted Paul is in the Imperial cult in the provinces, and from the reports he would have heard from his associates in Rome.

Genius and Numen in Roman religion The legal practice of adoption was long established by the first-century. Widely attested as a means of care in old age, adoption was used to procure an heir for purposes of inheritance, for the important task of funerary arrangements, and for the preservation of the family cult. James M. Scott notes the three broad areas that were concerned with a Roman adoption: ‘A person who was not by birth part of the family was made son of an adoptive father, in order that he might carry on the nomen (name), the pecunia (estate), and the sacrum (sacred rites) of a family which might have otherwise died out.’89 From the Republic and into the 88. Dieter Georgi, ‘Aeneas und Abraham: Paulus unter dem Aspekt der Latinität?’ Zeitschrift für Neues Testament, 5/10 (2002): 37–43, 37. Israel Kamudzandu makes the case for the familiarity with on the part of the Jews and gentiles within Paul’s broader audience. Israel Kamudzandu, Abraham as Spiritual Ancestor: A Postcolonial Zimbabwean Reading of Romans 4 (Boston: Brill Academic Publishers, 2010), 43. 89. Scott, Adoption As Sons, 9. For a compilation of studies on adoption in the Roman period, see Scott, Adoption as Sons, 8. Among the other studies listed are Marcel-Henri Prévost, Les Adoptions politiques á Rome sous la République et le Principat (Publications de l’Istituit de Droit Romain, 5; Paris: Recueil Sirey, 1949); Herbert Nesselhauf, ‘Die Adoption’. Although the physical quality of the text makes its use difficult, Kurylowicz, Die adoption is valuable on many levels.



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early Imperial period, however, the additional concerns of patria potestas became a more prominent motivation for adoption. The adopted son was subject to the authority of the adoptive father in every way. This would allow for political and social maneuvering beyond what physical relationships allowed.90 The authority of the adoptive father was critical, but so too, was the necessity of caring for the household gods. This is the precise way that Roman Imperial adoption is connected to the Imperial cult and Roman religion. As we shall see, this matrix of associations made it possible for Paul to add the ‘spirit’ to his adoption metaphor in Romans 8.12-17. The first desideratum for establishing a connection between Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor in Romans 8 and the Roman Imperial context is to understand that adoption was critically necessary for the succession and ideology of the Empire. The role of adoption in the making of emperors and the preservation of the Empire was understood in the socio-political map of Paul’s letter to the Romans. That is, Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor drew upon the social and political realities of persons living in the capital. A connection must be made between adoption and spirit terminology both in the Roman Imperial context and Paul’s letter. The necessary connection is made in terms of Roman religious practice in the family and the Empire. When a son was adopted, he changed allegiance from his natural family to his adoptive family and took on the cultic practices of the adoptive family.91 There was a new paterfamilias who also carried complete authority.92 All financial ties and obligations of the adoptive son became the financial ties and obligations of the adoptive father. Significantly, the household gods of the adopted son switched from that of his natural family to that of his adoptive family.93 This switch in household gods is essential in understanding the significance of adoption in Roman power politics and also in understanding the broader implications of the Roman Imperial cult. As we discussed earlier, the adoption of Octavian by Julius was determinative in world history. It gave Octavian a vast fortune, an experienced military, and a new lineage. After the death of Julius Caesar, Octavian set about the task of ratifying the apotheosis of Julius. Within a few short years, the adopted son of a god began to place the key title on his coin issues: Divi filius. Family was paramount. In terms of religion, the family gods and the cult of the family were of critical importance. Each family had gods and family members were responsible for overseeing their worship, At Octavian’s adoption, Caesar’s gods became his own. In addition, because of Caesar’s apotheosis, and, no doubt as a result of the divine honours that Julius had received prior to death, Octavian became the steward over the gods of Julius Caesar’s family. 90. Kurylowicz, Die adoption, 14, 17–18. 91. Scott, Adoption As Sons, 9. 92.  Peter Garnsey and Richard Saller, The Roman Empire: Economy, Society and Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 136. 93. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 9.

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The family protective spirits; the lares, and the guardian spirit of Octavian; the genius, then became connected with the state. By the time he was given the title ‘Augustus’, no one had to be reminded about how this connection had been made. Apart from Julius Caesar, there had not been a person (since Numa!) as invested in the Roman state religion as Augustus. This mutual identification brought the genius of Augustus into proximity with the genius populi Romani and the rest of the Roman gods. Augustus furthered this affinity with the Roman gods by identifying himself personally with gods of the Roman pantheon such as Apollo and the virtue gods of Rome including Victoria, Pax, and Spes. Temples that were erected in honour of Augustus were almost always mutually tied to other gods, in order to bring Augustus closer to full deity and to meld the virtue of the god with that of the Emperor. It may be suggested that religion is the reason why adoption played such a prominent role in Imperial power politics. As Kurylowicz has pointed out, patria potestas is at issue, but there is a sacral reason for adoption.94 The Senate, along with the Roman people, cared that the same spirits that had brought them to a place of preeminence and to ensure future Imperial prosperity in the guarded the Empire. Roman religious practice, as Ando has noted, was concerned with success.95 The gods were obligated to keep the same ‘law’ as they had kept in the past, especially as it pertained to families. The genius in Roman religion and the Imperial cult Tied to the practice of Imperial adoption, the Emperor’s genius (the personal guardian spirit) and numen (divine power) are critically significant. These two interrelated religious terms provide the conceptual connection that is necessary to understand the logic of Paul’s metaphor in Romans 8. Genius and numen in Roman religion are terms that together form a Latin counterpart to the way Paul uses the one term, ‘spirit’ (πνεῦμα).96 While it may be thought that the Latin term ‘spiritus’ could be what Paul has in mind when he uses the Greek word πνεῦμα, the adoption metaphor that Paul is crafting makes a much bolder impression in the context of the Imperial cult and the spiritual powers/beings that are represented than the term spiritus could ever convey. Spiritus conveyed the sense of moving wind, breath, and even ‘soul’ but it rarely connotes a divinity and when it does convey something akin to inspiration, 94. Marek Kurylowicz, Die adoption, 14–17. 95.  Clifford Ando states: ‘The Romans famed rectitude and rigor in the performance of cult should be understood in this context: in light of the terrifying superiority of the gods, and knowing what had worked before, one had an overwhelming obligation scrupulously to recreate precisely that earlier performance. For the gods’ part, their willingness to abide by this ius (law), by this body of law, was the highest expression of both their fides, their norm-based loyalty to the other members of their community, and their goodwill.’ (Ando, Roman Religion, 11). 96. Peppard, Son of God, 32, 63–5.



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Spiritus nearly always represents something pertaining to a person, not to a god.97 It should also be noted that the term genius is translated into Greek as τύχη, but this was the Greek attempt to understand the concept of the Roman genius, as opposed to the other way around.98 It is unlikely that Paul would have chosen the word τύχη because, in the Hellenistic world in which Paul travelled, τύχη was connected with the goddess of that name. Trito-Isaiah refers to her in Isaiah 65.11-12 where the prophet upbraids those who worship her. Paul’s use of πνεῦμα fits better against the realities of the power of divine numen and the being of the genius because they conveyed the spiritual realities of adoption Paul wanted to evoke. Paul may not have used a term that was so closely related to what he considered to be a goddess, vying for the attention of the people of God. An analogous reality from the world of the Imperial cult, however, may have offered Paul the opportunity to construct a metaphor that would have resonated with his Roman readers, while simultaneously contesting the claims made for Caesar. Constructing a metaphor that was striking and familiar to his Imperial audience, Paul uses the term πνεῦμα to establish a correspondence with a crucial aspect of adoption in the Imperial cult to point to the reality of God’s adopting Spirit. We do not have to settle the arguments about the origin of the term genius or the shifts in meaning that attended it. Censorinus gives three possibilities for its origin. The genius may be a deity that is responsible for a birth (ut genamur curat); it could be a deity that is born at the same time as the person it represents (una genitur nobiscum); or it might be the deity that receives and protects a child at birth (nos genitos suscipit et tutatur).99 Scholars such as Birt, Wissowa, and Dumézil have argued about which derivation of the term is to be preferred, but whatever the conclusion, the reality that is signified by genius is not debated.100 The genius existed as a spirit in the head of the family and also within the divine or spiritual part of each member of the family.101 Objects of nature possessed a genius and the emperor’s genius was held as worthy of worship.102 97.  OLD, 1806. 98.  LSJ gives the four main meanings as: (1) the act of a god; (2) as an agent beyond human control, and so represented as the goddess of Fortune; (3) or regarded as the result of this agency: good luck or ill fortune; or (4) the good fortune of a city or person. (LSJ, 1839). 99. Censorinus, 3,1; cited in Robert Schilling, ‘Genius’, RAC, vol. 10 (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 1978), 54. 100. Schilling, ‘Genius’, 54. W. F. Otto, ‘Genius’, in Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft, vol. 13 (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler Buchhandlung, 1910), 1155–70, provides an extensive description of the ancient use. The updated article in the English edition by Wolfram-Aslan-Maharam, ‘Genius’, in Brill’s New Pauly, eds. Hubert Cancik and Helmuth Schneider, trans. Christine F. Salazar (Leiden: Koninklijke Brill NV, 2007), 756–8. See also Karen Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals: Friends and Patrons in Roman Poetry and Cult’, Classical Antiquity 11/2 (October 1992): 175–93. 101. Schilling, ‘Genius’, 55; Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals’, 185–6. 102. ‘Genius’, OLD (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), 759.

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Schilling describes the veneration of the genius in several contexts. The birthday celebration is the most identifiable social location for the worship of the genius and even when the term itself does not appear, the description of its veneration demonstrates the way it was regarded. Plautus sets an ignominious scene in honour of the genius on the birthday of Ballio. In Pseudolus, the scene of the birthday celebration and the pouring out of libations is set in the house of the pimp Ballio, while Pseudolus plots the escape of Phoenicium. As Pseudolos and Calidorus plot together, they overhear the preparations for the celebration. Ballio will go out to invite some of the genteel men of the city to celebrate with him. Ballio describes it this way: Now when I return from the forum, let me find all these things ready, swept, sprinkled, polished, draped, everything spick and span. For today’s my birthday and you all ought to celebrate it The ham, rind, sweetbreads and sow’s udder are to lie in water, mind. D’ye hear? I want to entertain some high-class gentlemen in grand style, and make ‘em think I’ve got money.103

Horace discusses the birthday of a friend, a certain Aelius Lamia. He instructs Aelius, on the eve of a storm, to offer a libation of wine and a two-year old piglet.104 The ode is delivered with the intent of drawing attention to the family line and the way in which the genius can be propitiated. Horace states: ‘Tomorrow, attended by your household slaves from tasks released, toast your genius with unmixed wine and a pig but two months old.’105 Kathryn Argetsinger notes that birthday celebrations included the veneration of the genius and were held for individuals, cities, temples, along with both living and dead Emperors.106 The celebration of each specific natalis necessitated particular religious performance whether the genius was for a city, individual, or emperor.107 The Romans not only celebrated their own natalis, they celebrated the birthdays of their friends, patrons, emperors, and the birthdays important to the Imperial cult.108 In terms of the practice of celebration, it is easily demonstrated that another’s birthday could be taken as equally significant or even more important than one’s 103. Plautus, Pseud., 160–70 (Nixon: LCL). 104. Schilling, ‘Genius’, 55. ‘Ein Text bei Plautus (Pseud. 156/9) zeigt, welche aufwendigen Vorbereitungen der Bordellwirt Ballio am Morgen seines Geburtstags trifft; an diesem Tag will man in Saus und Braus leben’. See also, Otto, ‘Genius’, 1160. 105.  Horace, Odes, 17 (Bennet: LCL). ‘Toast your genius’ is my own translation of the Latin: ‘dum potes, aridum compone lignum; cras Genium mero curabis et porco bimenstri cum famulis operum solutis’. 106. Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals’, 175. 107. Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals’, 176. 108. Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals’, 176. Richard P. Saller, Personal Patronage under the Early Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), provides the background for the social dynamics that are in view here.



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own. Martial declares of the birthday of his friend: ‘If you believe me, Quintus Ovidius, I love your April birthday as much as my own in March – and so I should. Each is a happy day to be marked with a fairer stone. The one gave me life, but the other gave a friend. Your birthday, Quintus, gives me more.’109 The celebration of a birthday confirms one’s social standing, provides an opportunity to express true pietas in the home, and coordinates the social relationship with the family cult.110 Argetsinger notes that the genius of the pater familias may have been celebrated monthly in Rome.111 This might be the sense that Martial has in mind in his birthday poem to Restitutus. Martial alludes to the primacy of the cultic aspect of the birthday celebration that demonstrates the importance of the offerings made to the genius: ‘Come, let pious Rome mark the birthday of the eloquent Restitutus: Let every tongue be reverent; let all prayers be favourable. We are performing birthday rites; let litigation cease.’112 The text of this poem, along with many other Latin birthday poems, alludes to the religious aspect of birthday celebrations that need no overt description by the author.113 Everyone would understand that the ritual and the offerings were made as an offering to the genius of the birthday celebrant.114 Tibullus provides another example, this time with an overt reference to the birthday celebration that also includes the offering made to the genius. Sulpicia’s prayer for her lover Cerinthus’ birthday is instructive: ‘Good genius, take the incense willingly, and willingly grant his prayers, so long as he burns when he thinks of me. But if by any chance he now sighs over another love, then, holy one, desert the faithless altar, I pray.’115 This is a decisive element for understanding how Paul may have become acquainted with the Roman notion of the genius, along with a perspective on how a Roman may have offered prayer. Obviously the poem itself is not paradigmatic for a regular approach to a birthday prayer. The key point is that we have a prayer offered, and it is made with the plea for the genius to act on Sulpicia’s behalf. It does not matter whether or not a Roman made the prayer seriously or as part of an oath taking formula. What matters is that Paul could have heard a prayer offered to a genius at a birthday celebration in a provincial Roman city such as 109. Marital, Epigrams 9.52, quoted by Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals’, 178. 110. Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals’, 177. 111. Englhofer, Claudia (Graz), ‘Birthday’, Brill’s New Pauly, ed. Hubert Cancik and Helmuth Schneider (Brill, 2011, Brill Online, Fordham University Library, 13 October 2011; http://www.brillonline.nl/subscriber/entry?entry=bnp e420190). Englhofer, too, relies on Argetsinger and W. Schmidt, Geburtstag im Altertum, RGVV VII.1, 1908. 112.  Octobres age sentiat Kalendas; facundi pia Roma Restituti: linguis omnibus et favete votis; natalem colimus, tacete lites. Epigrams 10.87.1-4. 113. Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals’, 182. 114. Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals’, 182. 115. Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals’,183. See also: Hubert Creekmore, The Erotic Elegies of Albius Tibullus (New York: Washington Square Press, 1966).

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Corinth or Philippi. This is especially so given that the location for these celebrations and offerings was the private home, which, as we have briefly noted, was deemed public space for the Roman citizen.116 There are other examples of the celebration of the birthday and the cultic aspects of the ritual in Tibullus. In Carmina 2.2.5-8, Cornutus is celebrating his own birthday. Tibullus writes: ‘May his genius be at hand to witness his own honours. May delicate floral crowns grace his holy hair; may his temples be wet with pure nard, may he take his fill of honey cakes and be drunk with unwatered wine.’117 Flowers, pure nard, honey cakes, and a poured out libation, are all a part of the ritual. The specific actions are left unspoken. As is the case for much in Roman religion, the specific ritual itself is unstated since it is taken for granted that the reader/audience would already know what was to be done. While in exile, Ovid records, in poetic form, the celebration of his own birthday and that of his wife, from whom he has been separated. There are two places in Ovid’s Tristia where the celebration is chronicled, along with the kind of offerings that would be made to the genius. To his own genius, Ovid states: Thou awaitest, I suppose, thine honour in its wonted guise: a white robe hanging from my shoulders, a smoking altar garlanded with chaplets, the grains of incense snapping in the holy fire, and myself offering the cakes that mark my birthday and framing kindly petitions with pious lips.118

Further in Trisita 5.5, the same figures, symbols, and ritual appear when Ovid describes the birthday of his wife and what he does to celebrate it: ‘Let me now put on the white garb that matches not my fate. Let there be made a green altar of grassy turf, the warm hearth veiled with a braided garland. Give me incense, boy; that produces rich flame, and wine that hisses when poured in the pious fire.’119 While the examples from Ovid show an intimacy associated with the birthday ritual at home, Horace shows his own commitment to his lifelong friend and patron Maecenas. It is not altogether clear if Horace is recording the sacrifice to the Imperial genius or that of Maecenas. Is the sacrificial ritual to be made on his behalf, or to the genius of Maecenas, specifically? What would have been clear to Horace and his original readers remains difficult for us to determine. The familiar, constituent parts of the ritual, however, are represented:

116. Carolyn Osiek and David Balch, Families, 5–16. 117.  Argetsinger’s translation of the Carmina: ipse suos Genius adsit visurus honores, cui decorent sanctas mollia serta comes. Illius puro destillent tempora nardo, atque satur libo sit madeatque mero. Argetsinger, ‘Birthday Rituals’, 183. 118.  Tristia 3.13.13-18 (Wheeler: LCL). 119.  Tristia 5.5.8-12 (Wheeler: LCL).



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I have saved for the day a full bottle of old Wine from the Alban hills … ‘The household is getting ready; the silver is polished, The cups and flagons gleam; the household altar, Adorned with leaves, is ready, awaiting the offerings. Everyone hurries. The servants, the boys and girls, Going this way and that, getting everything ready. The air is alive with the smoke of fiery wreaths. Today is the Ides of April, the month of Venus, A festival day for me because of Maecenas, Who celebrates today his natal day, The onward flowing of another year.’120

Nowhere is the genius mentioned. Horace does not need to do so. The meaning of the event and the ritual were clearly understandable and unremarkable in terms of the deities in view. The genius was considered to be the spiritual attendant or conscience of an individual. Schilling and Otto both note that the genius was regarded as the life principle in association with the sex act.121 It could be offended, or it could try to provide guidance to the individual. It was commonly supposed that honouring one’s genius would result in personal benefaction.122 Plautus provides an excellent example of this when Philocrates is describing a miserly fellow to Hegio in his comedy, The Captives: Hegio: How say you? Is his father covetous? Philocrates: Aye, by my faith, he is covetous. Why, that you may even understand it the better when he’s sacrificing at any time to his own Genius, the vessels that are needed for the sacrifice he uses of Samian ware, lest the Genius himself should steal them; from this, consider how much he would trust other people.123

Plautus has drawn an obvious caricature of a person who is exceptionally grasping, but he has done so by pointing to several characteristics of the genius. As a being, it is a spiritual entity. The idea that the genius itself would make off with the vessels used in the sacrifice is absurd. It is also to be noted that the specific acts at such a sacrifice are again unstated. Even when the scene is an absurd one, the ancient author feels no necessity to describe, list, or explain the sacrificial ritual. It is all taken for granted. The genius is variously represented as a male figure in a toga, as Juno in paintings and lararia (a niche in a home where the family gods were kept for 120. Horace, Odes, 4.11, The Odes of Horace, trans. David Ferry (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux; 1997). 121. Schilling, ‘Genius’, 57; Otto, ‘Genius’, 1160. 122. Schilling, ‘Genius’, 57–8. 123. Plautus, The Captives, 2.2 (Riley: LCL).

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domestic worship), or a dancing figure in celebratory scenes between the lares.124 The genius was figured as a snake when it was identified with a location, and then, too, as a winged figure.125 Whether or not it is to be attributed to urbanization is not clear, but the genius begins to emerge as the genius populi Romani in the late third and second centuries bc126 The Arval Brothers record that a bull was offered in honour and in worship of the genius populi Romani.127 This was to be the same offering made to the genius of the reigning emperor.128 The correspondence was not accidental. The genius of the reigning emperor and the genius of the Roman people were connected in the development of the Imperial cult. The combination of private and public religious life and their mutual correspondence under Augustus facilitated the rise of the Roman Imperial cult. The conditions were ripe for the spread of the Imperial cult throughout the Mediterranean. This was especially true for the provinces of the East just after Actium. Octavian was portrayed as a divine Pharaoh in Egypt and as a second founder or even ‘saviour’ of cities. The spontaneous honours that were given were in keeping with what was accorded rulers who had maintained a quasi-divine status.129 While Octavian urged that no temple be built for him apart from the goddess Roma, Suetonius remarks that in Asia and Bithynia temples were built to honour Octavian and he graciously accepted this sign of loyalty.130 One last example will suffice to show how Augustus was honoured by the worship of his genius. Horace’s Odes, IV, 5 is a poem that is engrossed in praise of Augustus. In verses 25–36, Horace exults over the current situation that has been brought about by the emperor: Horace writes: Who would fear the Parthian, who the frozen Scythian, who the rough brood Germany breeds, as long as Caesar is safe? Who would care about war in savage Spain? Each man spends all day until sunset in his own hills, wedding the vine to the unmarried trees; then he returns happily to his wine and requests your divine presence at the second course. He honours you with many a prayer, pouring libations from the dish, and combines your worship with that of the household gods, as Greece does when remembering Castor and mighty Hercules.131 124.  James Frazer’s translation of Ovid’s Fasti, book 3, 57–9 is illustrative of this kind of conception of the genius: ‘Nor would I pass thee by in silence, Larentia, nurse of so great a nation, nor the help that thou didst give, poor Faustulus. Your honour will find its place when I come to tell of the Larentalia; that festival falls in December, the month dear to the genius.’ There are no book length studies on the genius. 125. Schilling, ‘Genius’, 62; Otto, ‘Genius’, 1161. 126. Schilling, ‘Genius’, 64. 127. Peppard, Son of God, 65. 128. Schilling, ‘Genius’, 64. 129. Taylor, Divinity, 145. 130. Taylor, Divinity, 146. Suet. August 52. 131. Horace, Odes, 4.5.25–36, (Rudd: LCL).



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The word genius never appears, and yet it is understood from the description of the oath and references to worship and ‘household gods’. The spiritual protector of Augustus was worshipped as a daily function of ordinary life in the Early Empire. The representation of the genius in Roman art How easy would it have been for Paul to recognize a genius? How would Paul have been able to identify the genius of Augustus and to infer that the representation signified a spiritual being? The literary evidence concerning the genius has demonstrated that the Romans had begun to offer a libation as an offering and oath to the genius of Augustus. The worship of the family genius in the household would also have been familiar to Paul as he went from home to home. To determine whether or not Paul might have been familiar with the representation of a genius, it is necessary to explore the representation of the genius in Paul’s first-century world. A survey of the representation of the genius requires an appraisal of the available finds detailed in the Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae.132 Figures of the genius are represented in every medium. Representations of the genius are found as statuettes, wall paintings, gems, coins, statuary, stone-relief, and on terracotta. Given the fact that the material degenerates rapidly, there are no surviving paintings on wood. It could be reasonably assumed that something like a placard would have been produced for the representation of the genius. There are several categories of genius within the preserved record. The types include the genius familiaris (associated with the domestic cult and the paterfamilias), the genius of the dead, genius militaris (legions might adopt their own genius), genius Loci (a genius associated with a specific location or city), genii of attributes or divinities, and the genius of the Emperor. This leads to the conclusion that the nature of the genius, as a religious entity, was extremely flexible and open to development, change, and alterations.133 A quick appraisal of the genius of the dead, genius Loci and the genius militaris can move the discussion to the main point of inquiry: the representation of the genius in the household and the Imperial cult. The genius of the dead is represented as a robed figure with a cornucopia and memorializes the death of a paterfamilias. In funerary paintings, the figure is seated, or reclining and the patera (the small bowl used in pouring out the libation as an offering) and acerra (a small box for incense) are located on a table. This may indicate that the genius of the paterfamilias is actually receiving the offerings made by the family.134 132. The full article by Ilaria Romero with commentary is found in the Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae 1. 4. Eros – Herakles et addenda Cernunnos, Demeter, Ceres, Bacchus (in peripheria occidentali), Erechtheus (Zürich: Artemis-Verl, 1988), 599–607. 133. Romero, LIMC, 607. 134. Romero, LIMC, 601, 602.

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Genii militaris develop over time and in connection with the notion that the individual genii serve to protect the Imperial house.135 The genius militaris does not show a covered head, but a crowned head wearing a military crown with boots that show a preparation for battle.136 Inscriptions show that specific units can be depicted and, especially in the secind and third centuries ad, armor or weaponry may be featured.137 Genii loci are challenging to distinguish from the genii militaris. Many of the features are similar. What distinguishes the genii loci from other types is the representation of a particular feature of the town or region. Such features may include a rock, promontory, fountain, river, or even a theater. A genius may be affixed or carved into the very rock that it represents.138 Sometimes these are figured as serpents or in the style of the military genius.139 Representations of the genius familiaris have been preserved in Pompeii. Two bronze statuettes exhibit characteristics that identify the genius. Both figures are robed with their heads covered. Each bears a cornucopia and a patera.140 One atrium wall painting from Pompeii shows the robed genius with a serpent, lares, and the juno, the female genius, in front of an altar.141 A second painting, located in a kitchen, shows another genius with juno, and, like the first painting, a piper.142 Representations of the genius may also show an incense box used in household worship. The features that have been identified in the iconography of the genii described hold true for the genii of the Emperors. This is not an insignificant point. The difference between the genius of a private family and the genius of the Emperor has to do with the size of the family. For the Emperor’s genius, the entire Empire was under his potestas.143 The genius of Augustus is figured prominently with two Lares. The genius is hooded and robed with the toga, and he also is represented with a cornucopia preparing to offer a sacrifice. There is an extensive inscription

135. For a fuller description of the military use of the genius see Ando, Imperial Ideology, 259–69, where he discusses the development of military imagery and the Emperor’s portrait in connection with the development of the early church. The genius militaris is also discussed by Michael P. Speidel and Alexara Dimitrova-Milceva’s article, ‘The Cult of the Genii in the Roman Army and a New Military Deity’, ANRW, II.16.2, (1978): 1542–55. 136. Romero, LIMC, 607. 137. Romero, LIMC, 607. 138. Romero, LIMC, 607. 139. Romero, LIMC, 607 and also for particular finds and descriptions, 602. 140. Romero, LIMC, 601. 141. Romero, LIMC, 601. 142. Romero, LIMC, 601. 143. This is emphasized by Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 76 and 139, even though this ‘fatherhood’ had been the result of a dramatic and bloody grab for power (Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 365–71).



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that attributes the monument to its benefactors.144 In every case, the genius of Augustus is hooded and prepared to offer sacrifice. One relief shows the genius of Augustus hooded and prepared to offer a sacrifice of a bull, while Mars, Vesta, and Salus look on.145 The genius of Augustus is represented on statuary and coins, as well. Again, Augustus is robed and his head is covered while he holds a cornucopia.146 The genius Augusti is featured with a draped mantel to the waist, a cornucopia, and a patera on an As from Nero’s administration in 64–66 ad.147 As noted above, the genius of Nero is preserved on an As that was displayed with the genius of the colony of Corinth between 54–55 ad. The genius is represented with a standard pattern that becomes identifiable in the first-century. The hooded and robed figure, grouped with the Lares and poised to present an offering, either with the patera and acerra, (or not) suggests piety and humility. The genius in the home would have been recognizable. Worthy of oath taking and depicted at each of the crossroads in Rome the household image of the genius of Augustus would be easily recognized. It is plausible to think that Paul and his readers would have recognized a genius. It is also plausible to think that Paul and his readers would have been familiar with the image of the Emperor’s genius and would have recognized its religious significance. Numen There are a number of sources that can be a guide for understanding numen.148 On the most general level, numen means: (1) ‘a nod of the head, bias’; (2) ‘divine power or influence’ that possesses a poet or protects a person; (3) ‘divine power’ that can control circumstances or that is ‘exercised on behalf of a person or thing’; (4) ‘divine nature or majesty, divinity, god-head’; (5) ‘a supernatural force’; or (6) ‘a deity, god.’149 Ovid’s remark in the Fasti II.639–46 illustrates the way that numen could be used to describe the mysterious presence of divinity in objects like the boundary stone: 144. Romero, LIMC, 605, the accompanying plate in vol. IV.2, Genius 57. It should be noted that the posture of sacrifice is related to the idea of piety. Why a genius is sacrificing is not described in the source material. 145. Romero, LIMC, 606; Vol. IV.2, Genius 60. The next plate, Genius 61, shows Augustus prepared to sacrifice. 146. Romero, LIMC, 606. 147. Romero, LIMC, 606, Vol. IV.2, Genius 65a. 148. Like genius, the development of the term numen and a further identification of a specific meaning, is challenging. There are no manuscripts dedicated to numen, either in its development or in its usage in late Republican or early Imperial Rome. See H. J. Rose, Ancient Roman Religion and Walter Pötscher, ‘“Numen” und “numen Augusti”’, ANRW, 2.16.1, ed. Wolfgang Haase (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1978), 355–92. 149.  OLD, 1202.

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Paul’s ‘Spirit of Adoption’ in its Roman Imperial Context When night has ended, the god who by his presence marks the divisions of the fields should receive his traditional reverence. You too, Terminus, have had divine power (numen) from ancient times – sometimes in the form of a stone, sometimes a stump buried in the field. The two farmers crown you from their opposite sides, each of them bringing you a garland and each a cake.150

Scholars thought that numen was the Roman counterpart to the conceptions of divine power in primitive societies such as mana, orenda, or vakanda.151 This idea, however, has been challenged because the notions of divine power should not automatically rule out whether it is personal or impersonal.152 Numen can be applied to the sacral function of the Senate and the populi Romani. Cicero uses the term in order to explain how the gods are named.153 Dumézil first noticed the possibility for the personal nature of numen since it appears in Republican texts in connection with the genitive of a god’s name or in adjectival connection with divinus.154 This relates divine power to the will of a specific deity.155 Being the property of a god or the power that a god possesses, numen is attributable to gods in differing quantities and in various situations. Rose notes that, ‘Varro, explaining numen by the famous Homeric passage in which Zeus, by a mere nod of assent, makes the holy mountain Olympus shake, says it belongs to him whose authority is greatest, in other words to a supernatural being.’156 There is disagreement over when the term numen comes to be used in connection with the gods.157 In fact, the word ends up as a predicate of human and animal behavior, as well. Numen can describe anything, inanimate or animate that has spiritual power.158 Regardless of the etymology of the term, numen is used as a predicate for supernatural power or the results of supernatural power.159 150. Beard, North, and Price, Religions of Rome: Vol. 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 4 with the translation by the authors. 151. Prescendi, Francesca (Geneva), ‘Numen’, Brill’s New Pauly, eds. Hubert Cancik and Helmuth Schneider (e-reference; Brill Online, 2012,  Reference. Fordham University Library. 23 September 2012 http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/brill-s-newpauly/numen-e826240). See also, Rose, ‘Numen and Mana’. 152. Pötscher, ‘Numen’, 357. 153. Cicero, Phil. 3.32. 154. Georges Dumézil, Archaic Roman Religion (New York: Insight Plenum, 1996). 155. Prescendi, ‘Numen’, New Pauly, who cites the oldest evidence: Accius in Non. 173,27: nomen et numen Iovis and Cic. Div. 1,120. 156. Rose, Ancient Roman Religion, p. 14. 157. Rose, ‘Numen and Mana,’ 110–11. The disagreement points to the fact that apparently the term is not used in the earliest authors such as Plautus. Rose contends that Plautus’ reference point for his comedies was based on fourth century bc. Greek models. This would explain the relative absence of this term in connection with the Greek gods and goddesses who often are portrayed in less than divine roles. 158. Fischwick, Imperial Cult, I.2, 383. 159. Rose, ‘Numen and Mana’, 113.



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This supernatural or divine power was, indeed, personal in nature, and not akin to an impersonal ‘force’. From the root term nuere- ‘to nod,’ numen is a function of the ‘will’ and emotional character of the god involved in the demonstration of power.160 The real significance of the term only surfaces in the Early Empire when it refers to the numen of the emperor.161 The genius of the emperor was already included in the oaths taken in the Empire but it is the numen of the Emperor that protects the citizens of Rome and grants them peace and tranquility.162 This is a key reference that leads some to inquire about the ways in which genius and numen were to be identified, but the genius is deserving of worship because of the power (numen) that is shown. A spiritual protector or a family spirit had an aspect of divine power. There are several pieces of archaeological evidence that testify to the exhibition of numen as a characteristic of Augustus. One is an inscription for the ‘dedication of the Ara Numinis Augusti … in the Fasti Praenestini for 17 January,’ suggesting that Augustus or his numen should receive worship.163 Fishwick dates an inscription from Lepcis Magna from June ad 11-12 that indicates the emperor’s numen was worshipped and supported by an Imperial priest.164 An inscription in Narbo from ad 12/13 gives evidence that Augustus’ numen was to be worshipped on high feast days with sacrifices, incense, and poured out wine.165 Finally, Fishwick notes that, ‘the decisive point arises… in an inscription of ad 18, attesting the decision of Forum Clodii to institute rites associated with an altar to the Numen Augustum, a term surely to be taken as a variant on Numen Augusti rather than as attesting an independent divinity.’166 Victims were to be sacrificed on the birthday of Augustus 160. Pötscher, ‘Numen’, 371; citing Catullus, 64. 204. An opposing view is offered by Gradel, Emperor Worship, pp. 235–36). 161. It is impossible to offer a thorough critique or even appraisal of the issues that are related to either the identification of the genius with the numen or of the distinction between the two. Gradel, Fishwick, Taylor, and Pippidi offer differing viewpoints that hinge on the interpretation, translation, and even the provision of terms found in both literary and epigraphic evidence. As Gradel points out, the evidence is far from conclusive, even when the theories that the evidence provokes seem to be certain (Gradel, Emperor Worship, 237). F. Taeger disallows for an identification of the two, as well (Fritz Taeger, Charisma: Studien zur Geschichte des antiken Herrscherkultes 2, [Rom] (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1960), 465. Pötscher sees congruence between the uses of the terms, even if the specific entities described remain distinct. (Pötscher, ‘Numen’, 388). 162. Horace, Odes IV. 5.25–36. Gradel’s point of view is that the libation was poured out to the Emperor himself (Gradel, Emperor Worship, 247). 163. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, I.2, 378. Fishwick relies on the work of Mommsen as clarified by Lily Ross Taylor, “Tiberius’ Ovattio and the Ara Numinis Augusti”, American Journal of Philology 58 (1937): 185–93. 164. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 1.2, 378. 165. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 1.2, 379. 166. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 1.2, 380.

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along with a calf on the birthday of Tiberius. The worship of both genius and numen Augusti is attested on the same altar.167 What the literary and archaeological evidence points to is that Augustus himself was viewed as having the power of a god.168 As the term develops in the Augustan age and beyond, numen, in fact, becomes another way of referring to a god. It is synonymous with the notion of a god.169 Fishwick concludes that the appellation numen Augusti, since it can receive prayers and sacrifices, may have developed into ‘a divinized abstraction to be treated in the same way as a traditional god, though immanent in the emperor rather than concomitant like the genius Augusti.’170 That Augustus could be attributed as having numen would have been the highest honour possible.171 Gradel makes the argument that Augustus received worship in his lifetime through the numen cult.172 While it took time for the divi filius to grow, the evidence points to Augustus’ divinity and the worship of his genius during his lifetime. The honours that were accorded him continued to increase in Rome and the provinces. Temples, monuments, and civic buildings all bore his name and displayed the overtures to his divinity. What took Augustus years to accept, Caligula accepted in days. Suetonius preserves the record in Cal. 22.3: ‘He also set up a special temple to his own godhead [numini suo], with priests and with victims of the choicest kind. In this temple was a life-sized golden statue of the emperor, which was dressed each day in clothing such as he wore himself. The richest citizens used all their influence to secure the priesthoods of his cult and bid high for the honour.’173 The same holds true for Nero. Arnaldo Momigliano discusses the rapid advance of Nero’s own divine aspirations and proclivities. Nero associates himself 167. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 1.2. 380, see also, Gradel on this point: ‘… in a cult of the emperor’s numen, a quality characteristic of the gods, it was explicitly formulated that the emperor was divine and not just a paterfamilias, this detail in the inscription would therefore be equivalent to a cult act to the genius of a god’ (Gradel, Imperial Cult, 245). 168. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 1.2, 383; Gradel, Emperor Worship, 247–8. 169. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 1.2, 384. 170. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 1.2, 385. See also n.54: ‘Augustan abstractions seem to have been conceived as offshoots of the immanent Numen Augusti or specializations of the concomitant Genius Augusti.’ 171. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 1.2, 387. See M. P. Charlesworth, ‘Some Observations on Ruler-Cult, especially in Rome’, HTR 28 (1935): 5–44. 172. Gradel states: ‘So numen cult was merely a linguistic synonym for direct, godlike cult. The consequences of this observation for Tiberius’ supposed state altar to his father’s numen would be revolutionary. Cult images by the altar would have represented Augustus, and sacrifices would have been made to him directly. This means that such an altar would have enshrined Augustus as a state god in his lifetime, not only because numen was unequivocally a divine attribute, as argued by Fishwick and others, but because Augustus was then worshipped as god of the Roman state while he was still alive.’ (Gradel, Emperor Worship, 248). 173. Suetonius, Cal. 22.3, quoted in Gradel, Emperor Worship, 245.



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with divinities such as Zeus, Hercules, and Apollo.174 Nock states that Nero is responsible for ‘going beyond precedent in the erection of a colossus of the Sun with his own features in front of the Golden House, in his representation with a radiate crown on coins, and in depicting himself driving a chariot among the stars on the hangings over the theater in 66.’175 The cult of the emperor’s numen continued to grow and flourish. The sacred power that was ascribed to the emperor was venerated in the East, West, and also in Rome. This is the religious background for Paul’s Roman readers. When Paul uses the term ‘Spirit’ in Romans 8, he has a parallel notion at the ready in Rome where the genius of the adopted Emperor had been worshipped because of the numen the Emperor displayed. The genius of the Emperor was identified with the genius populi Romani. It was thought to have agency and to attend to the benefits of the Emperor and the Empire. The genius could do this because it had numen, spiritual power. The combination of these two realities focused on the Emperor provides us with a clear reason why Paul might have them in mind when he uses the term ‘Spirit.’ This is especially the case when Paul has the metaphor of adoption in mind.

Roman household religion: A social location for Paul The focus of Roman religion was the household.176 The origins of Roman worship are to be found not in the state cult, but rather in the homes and farms of Romans.177 When the Apostle Paul went from home to home in a Roman colony, he would have been met with the symbols of the Imperial cult. It was in the home that the paterfamilias facilitated the worship of the lares, penates, genius, and provided for any other rites that had been passed down through the family.178 Prayers, rites, sacrifices, and offerings were made to many deities for the protection, preservation, and prosperity of the household. As the Empire expanded, the cult of the domus gradually developed into the cult of the fatherland. Paul must have known of and reacted to the remnants of the Augustan religious restoration, a larger scale example of Roman family worship. Understanding the background of Roman religion and its relationship to the Empire may support the thesis that when Paul 174.  Arnaldo Momigliano, ‘Nero’, The Cambridge Ancient History, Vol. 10: The Augustan Empire, 44 B.C.–A.D.70, eds. S. A. Cook, F. E. Adcock and M. P. Charlesworth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1934), 702–42, 733. 175.  A. D. Nock, ‘Religious Developments From the Close of the Republic to the Death of Nero’, The Ancient Cambridge History, Vol. 10: The Augustan Empire, 44 B.C.–A.D. 70, eds. S. A. Cook, F. E. Adcock and M. P. Charlesworth; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1934), 465–511, 501. 176. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1559. 177. Beard, North, and Price Religions of Rome, Vol. 1, 48, alludes to the same origins and the Greek connections for the origin of Roman religion. 178. Beard, North, and Price, Religions of Rome, Vol. 1, 49.

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seeks to use an Imperial image to illustrate his pneumatology, the cult of the domus provided a good social location from which to work.

Sources for Roman domestic religion What is known of the practice of Roman household religion is rather restricted in scope. In addition to the literary evidence for household religion, the best archaeological evidence can be found in Pompeii and Herculaneum. Frescoes and mosaics, sculptures, coins, and the like all have religious symbols and representations of Roman household religion. While religious imagery was present everywhere in the Roman house, there is very little in the way of literary commentary that helps to explain the myths depicted on walls and floors and why they were placed there.179 The evidence from the cities buried by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 ad provides an objective picture of the place of religion in the household beyond the city of Rome itself. The development of Roman household religion outside of Rome can be traced to the rapid expansion of the Empire in the second century bc.180 Featured among the wall paintings from Pompeii are images of the gods in contemporary style and idyllic scenes. Apollo, Daphne, Perseus, and Andromeda are pictured in semi-erotic scenes that are not linked in any way to daily life.181 Mosaics from villas in Spain and North Africa, like wall paintings, show specific scenes from a story in order to emphasize a specific religious or societal value.182 Statuary was imported for both the sake of art as well as for use in the domestic lararium.183 As David Orr says, ‘There was no priestly college to make the domestic cult concrete, and no written dogma to express its traditions. It is possible that the domestic cult was a sort of miniature version of the public rituals, but it was certainly less formalized and more naïve.’184 John Bodel, in his recent volume on ancient household religion, relates the difficulty of understanding how Roman household religion fits into the Roman state religion to the fact that it is extremely difficult to separate household religion from religious practice in the public sphere.185 179. Kaufmann-Heinimann, ‘Religion in the House’, 188-201. At the conclusion of Kaufmann-Heinimann’s article she states, ‘There is no comprehensive study of the subject so far, but several aspects are treated separately’ (Kaufmann-Heinimann, ‘Religion in the House’, 201). 180. Kaufmann-Heinimann, ‘Religion in the House’, 189. 181. Kaufmann-Heinimann, ‘Religion in the House’, 190–1. 182. Kaufmann-Heinimann, ‘Religion in the House’, 192. 183. Kaufmann-Heinimann, ‘Religion in the House’, 193. 184. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1559. See also, Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’. While the text does not detail domestic religion as such, Richard E. L. B. De Kind’s Houses in Herculaneum: A New View on the Town Planning and the Building of Insulae II and IV (Amsterdam: J. C. Gieben, 1998) shows designs and uses of the household. 185.  John Bodel, ‘Cicero’s Minerva, Penates, and the Mother of the Lares: An Outline of Roman Domestic Religion’, in Household and Family Religion in Antiquity, ed. John Bodel (Oxford: Blackwell, 2008), 248–75, 251.



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While Cicero and Varro provide some examples of Roman religious practices in Rome during the Republic, there is no developed discourse regarding the intersection of the household cult and the public cult throughout the rest of the Empire. There is little interest in defining what seems to be self-evident. As a result, the picture of household and public worship is largely defined by ritual, numismatic, architectural, and artistic expressions. Literary accounts of theological ideas are not plentiful.186 Christopher Smith remarks: ‘The obscurity surrounding early Roman religion is profound. Writing about ancient religious experience is difficult in itself, but especially in the case of early Rome, in the absence of any substantial written record, and with a scattered and incomplete archaeological record, it is bound to be a task fraught with uncertainty and doubt.’187 Exploring ancient Roman religion goes beyond simply looking at the household and then looking at the public sphere, as if the two were spaces neatly separated.188 The state cult and the domestic cult worked together and spilled over into one another.189 Moreover, public spheres were filled with religious symbols, ideas, and practices. As John Clarke notes, ‘Taken together, theater, portico, offices, and temple constitute a busy, multiuse space where work, leisure, and worship all intermingled.’190 The notion of separate space for religious and secular tasks, in a modern sense, is opposed to the experience of space in the ancient world. A description of Roman domestic religion Specific places are the main foci for Roman religion, not ideas or beliefs. For those trying to understand the nuances of Roman domestic religion from a Western and Christian point of view, propositional statements regarding what is and what is not appropriate for a faith system are entirely lacking and largely off the mark as criteria for religious practice. Instead, the specific places themselves are significant to the development of religious practices. The hearth inside the domus represented a place where the ‘living fire’ was reverenced as a great religious power. Outside of 186. Simon Price, Rituals and Power, 7. He continues to emphasize that ‘ritual is an embodiment of thinking’ (Price, Rituals and Power, 8). Price extends the category of ‘ritual’ to include iconography, festivals, sacrifices, and numismatics. 187. Christopher Smith, ‘The Religion of Archaic Rome’, in A Companion to Roman Religion, ed. Jörg Rüpke (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 31. 188. On the nature of households and the way they were open to public view, see David Balch’s essay, ‘Paul, Families, and Households’, in Paul in the Greco-Roman World: A Handbook, ed. J. Paul Sampley (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 2003), 258–92. 189. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 200. Gradel quotes the letter from Fronto that describes the ubiquitous nature of the Emperor’s likeness. The inference drawn is that the kind of evidence for Roman religious iconography in the household would have been made of materials that were likely not to survive since they were constructed in such a way as to be ready for replacement. Gradel thinks that the replacement would come in the representations of the new, living emperors. 190. John Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 73.

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the house, families venerated the ancestral powers in small gardens and shrines. Even the storerooms and cupboards had proprietary and protective deities.191 The family worshipped Vesta at the hearth. Fire and field were the primary powers that Vesta was recognized to possess and confer. The Vestal virgins tended to the fire in the middle of Rome and this priestly duty corresponded to an ancient and domestic counterpart.192 At the hearth, the women of the domus, wives and daughters of the paterfamilias, tended the fire and made offerings to Vesta.193 The intersection between domestic religion and public religion is illustrated by the Vestals. The tasks given them in worship are domestic and performed as representative of all Romans.194 The penates were the numina, or spiritual powers that resided inside every house.195 Whether the origin for these powers was writ large over Rome in the figures of Castor and Pollux or otherwise, these household spirits held sway in the storehouses and rooms of the house.196 The religious origins of the lares, perhaps thought of as ghosts of the departed, are undetermined, but within the context of the household they become identified with the penates.197 The numen, or spiritual power, of the lares, came into a house and was able to watch over the person who lived in the home, even if the person travelled elsewhere.198 Images of the lares have been preserved in the remains from Herculaneum and Pompeii. Wall paintings offer the most vivid religious images for the first-century. Lares were portrayed as dancing, joyful, celebratory figures in the Greek fashion, often with rhyta full of wine. This leads to the conclusions that lares had a Greek origin at some time in the pre-history of Roman religion. The lares are usually figured as a pair alongside of the family genius.199 The family genius, usually robed with a toga and positioned between the jubilant lares, was worshipped as the guardian force or numen of the family.200 Orr’s description of the genius is instructive: ‘In essence, the genius was the “other-soul”, the life-double of a man. The most important power it represented was fertility and the watchful power to continue the family nomen and gens from one generation to another. Its other function, perhaps even another type of genius, was to guard a physical object or geographical location. Both kinds of genius occurred in the 191. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1559. 192. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1561. 193. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1561. 194. Beard, North, and Price, Roman Religion, Vol. 1, 52–4 catalogues the responsibilities and unique situation of the Vestal Virgins. Their domestic tasks were very much done out in the open, in the east of the Forum. 195. C. Robert Phillips III, ‘Penates, di’, OCD, 1135. 196. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1563. Beard, North, and Price, Roman Religion Vol. 1, 12. 197. C. Robert Phillips III, ‘Lares’, OCD, 816. 198. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1565. 199. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1568. 200. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1569.



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domestic shrines.’201 In the domus, the worship of the genius insures the succession of the family, just as it does in the narrative of succession in Roman politics. The genius of the family was portrayed next to the lares and was worshipped on the birthday of the paterfamilias. The offerings included wine and cakes. Pigs and lambs were offered as blood sacrifices. Horace’s description of the genius includes the comment that it was mortal and could pass from one person to another at death.202 The genius was also portrayed as a snake at many shrines.203 The snake conveyed a sense of the power of the genius of a particular location, but it also represents the idea of the life force of the family.204 The Roman genius was an extremely flexible entity, affording the possibility of human, animal, or geographic representation within the domestic cult.205 The figures of the lares and the genius are displayed in the household shrines preserved in Pompeii and Herculaneum. These sites may provide examples of household religion that were typical throughout the Empire.206 A look at the domestic expression of these figures proves essential in suggesting that the household is the social location where the apostle Paul would have encountered the genius and lares while he travelled. In Pompeii, the sheer variety of domestic religious expression is significant. There are three broad categories for the kinds of household shrines that include the niche, aedicule, and the wall painting.207 Of course, an entire room separate from the house – called the sacellum – is also quite impressive. The variety in specific domestic locations for the household cult is matched by the variety of altar types that have been identified. Larger and smaller altars occupy spaces both inside and outside of the house. The use of fire in the sacrificial act also explains the appearance of many kinds of domestic altars.208 The niche type of shrine is the most common. Built within the wall itself, this type contains the figures and statuettes that represent lares, genius, and other numina who were worshipped in the household. The aedicula were miniature forms of temples, constructed and set on a podium of some sort. The third type, 201. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1570. 202.  Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1571. Orr notes Horace’s usage found in Carmina 3. 17. 14. This page in Orr is very valuable for more primary references in regard to the genius in the domestic cult. 203. Orr ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1572. 204. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1573. 205. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1575. 206. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1576. ‘The household shrines of Pompeii, dating from the late Republican and early Imperial periods, serve as typological reference points for the whole Roman world, since no other town has equaled their quality, degree of preservation, and variety.’ 207. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1576. Clarke gives a similar description along with an analysis of the wall paintings that are found inside (Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 75). 208. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1576.

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the wall painting, usually depicted altars and portrayed standard representations of lares that usually show a pair of sacrificing figures with a genius holding a cornucopia.209 In addition to the regular family spirits, other kinds of divinities are represented in Pompeian domestic religion. Vesta, Bacchus, and Fortuna (Tyche), are all featured in some form or other.210 Agricultural symbols such as laurel, ivy, poplar, and myrtle were also used as representations of the gods.211 Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Ostia show a similar distribution of imagery related to household religion. An important find in Ostia shows how a dedication to the numen of Serapis, the Imperial family, to Silvanus, and the lares extended worship from the household to the Imperial cult.212 In addition to the remains from house shrines in Pompeii and Herculaneum, Laura Gadbery’s examination of Corinthian wall painting may show how Paul may have become acquainted with these kinds of house shrine paintings.213 The place where Paul writes his letter to the Romans, Corinth, also shows evidence of wall paintings in different settings. Making reconstructions from the flaking paint of plaster walls, Gadbury demonstrates that several wall paintings are reminiscent of Pompeian examples.214 One such painting shows Hera, Zeus, Herakles, and Athena.215 On the opposite wall, two figures of Eros bracket Aphrodite. The figures are mainly drawn from pattern books even though the figure of Aphrodite shows a correspondence with a Corinthian coin issue.216 Gadbery is working with little data, far less than in the case of Pompeii. Her conclusions, however, are essential for understanding the social location in which Paul wrote the letter to the Romans. If the paintings in Corinth show correspondences to the Pompeian style, it may be that similar paintings were distributed across the Empire. One might infer that the subjects would be similar. Thus, one may posit a link between the wall paintings characteristic of Pompeii and the domestic cult paintings found in Corinth around the time of Paul’s stay. Paul may 209. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1577. In the same article, see plates, IV and II, illustrating the description. G. K. Boyce offers a similar but exhaustive catalogue of Lararia at Pompeii in ‘Corpus of the Lararia of Pompeii’, Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome, Vol. 14 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1937), 10. 210. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1580–1. 211.  Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1583. Orr notes the strange blending of symbols and iconography: ‘The lararia, at any rate, show this curious blend of agricultural and commercial, business and domestic, Foreign and Italic in their structure and iconography.’ Roman religious sentiment did not wish to leave any potential divine blessing outside of its purview. 212. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1587. 213. Laura Gadbery, ‘Roman Wall-painting at Corinth: New Evidence from east of the Theater’, in The Corinthia in the Roman period: including the papers given at a symposium held at The Ohio State University on 7–9 March, 1991, ed. Timothy E. Gregory (Ann Arbor: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1993), 47–64. 214. Gadbery, ‘Roman Wall-painting’, 52. 215. Gadbery, ‘Roman Wall-painting’, 58. 216. Gadbery, ‘Roman Wall-painting’, 63.



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have seen paintings of the lares and genii of families in Corinth. Paul may have seen representations of the emperor painted in a similar way. In his description of household shrines, Orr alludes to the possibility that the emperor and his family were honoured in the house, as well as in the public sphere. However, evidence for the Imperial cult within the home is difficult to find.217 In developing a case for the presence of the emperor in the domestic cult, Gradel points out that the absence of evidence does not necessarily imply evidence of absence. More permanent public monuments would be erected on behalf of Divi, but in the household, the living and ruling emperor was venerated. Referring to a letter of Fronto, Gradel notes that more transient and affordable kinds of materials, comprised of wood or clay, would be used for this veneration: ‘The claim of Imperial absence in the household thus rests on dubious assumptions … wooden panel paintings … which were the cheapest and most easily disposable form of Imperial portraits, would not be traceable in excavations, not even in Pompeii.’218 Smaller portraits and statuary of Augustus have been found in Herculaneum, but their source is not known.219 Iconography in the domestic context does not always have to be placed in a niche or lararium to connect it with the Imperial cult. Paul Zanker points out that following Actium and Augustus’ building campaign in the Roman Forum, all kinds of small images on all kinds of materials evoked and celebrated Augustus’ victory.220 Gradel’s theory about the Imperial presence in the domestic cult is supported by the way in which figurines, small busts, and other pieces of iconography appear in the lararia of homes throughout the Empire. Robert Turcan has argued that the appearance of figurines and other pieces in the domestic context points in two directions. Divinities were venerated in the home because they were deemed to be effective. If the divinity of a particular emperor was particularly effective for a family or town, one might expect the genius or the image of that emperor to be venerated by the family.221 The appearance of Imperial portraiture in the home demonstrated the desire on the part of the family to be viewed as part 217. Gradel notes: ‘Unfortunately, the sources fail us almost completely in this field. This is hardly surprising, considering the nature of our evidence which overwhelmingly consists of texts and monuments created, indeed published, for the public eye to behold: mainly monumental stone inscriptions … Private cults involved well-informed insiders who had little need of explanatory monuments to enlighten or impress outsiders, ancient or modern. Furthermore, the literary texts generally ignore life in the household during the Empire … there is hardly any archaeological evidence of emperor worship in the domus. Mosaics and wall-paintings from private houses in Pompeii, Ostia, or other localities practically never contain any references to the emperor.’ (Gradel, Emperor Worship, 198–9). 218. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 201. 219. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 201. 220. Zanker, Power of Images, 84. 221. Robert Turcan, ‘La promotion du sujet par le culte du souverain’, in Subject and ruler: The Cult of the Ruling Power in Classical Antiquity: Papers Presented at a Conference held in the University of Alberta on April 13-15, 1994, to Celebrate the 65th Anniversary of

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of the Roman Empire rather than in opposition to it. The emperor represented the Empire and his portrait or concrete manifestation in the lararia was a point of identification with the cultural and religious spirit of the time. This kind of domestic veneration was not relegated to Rome or its immediate surroundings, but Imperial portraiture, statuary, and coinage can be found from Britain and Gaul all the way to Ephesus and further east.222 Other domestic religious imagery While Imperial imagery in the lararia unquestionably connects the Imperial cult to domestic worship, there are other ways in which it influenced the daily lives of Romans and connected with the broader environment of the Empire. Anything that happened in the center of power impacted every other place and every other cultural aspect.223 The symbols of the aurea aetas quickly spread over the Empire.224 All over Rome, citizens put up pictures of Augustus, bought trinkets that reminded them of the Emperor’s presence, or used a specific kind of cup to toast to the emperor’s genius.225 The motivation for such purchases, or for the massproduction of the items, is not as critical as the extent to which such images spread over the world. Zanker notes, ‘When the average man in the street bought himself a clay lamp with an image of the corona civica, Victoria on the globe, the clypeus virtutis, or Aeneas fleeing from Troy, instead of one with a chariot race or an erotic scene, he was making a deliberate choice.’226 When influential Romans began to appropriate, commission, and display the symbols of the new age – whether laurels, tripods, sphinxes, candelabra, or portraits – other Romans followed suit.227 Private citizens displayed art purchases in their homes, even at some remove from the center of Empire. The decision to decorate in a particular style is an aesthetic one, but it shows signs of cultural assimilation. Duncan Fishwick, eds. Duncan Fishwick and Alastair Small (Ann Arbor: Journal of Roman Archaeology, Supplementary Series, no. 17, 1996), 55. 222. Turcan, ‘La Promotion’, 56. 223. My father demonstrated this to me. I was watching an old baseball highlight and I saw that all the men were wearing hats in the stands. I asked him why men no longer wore hats. His reply was interesting: ‘President Kennedy quit wearing them.’ 224.  Zanker emphasizes this point: ‘If an aesthete and keen observer of his environment, killed at the Battle of Actium, had returned from the dead at the end of Augustus’s reign and visited Rome and Italy, he would not have believed his eyes. For the appearance and decoration of private residences, even of burial places was totally changed. Wall paintings, which dominated a room far more strikingly than do our carpets, were in an utterly new style. Not only walls, but furniture and other objects were decorated with new motifs, often borrowed from political iconography … the new mentality of Augustan Rome had brought about a revolution in taste.’ (Paul Zanker, Power of Images, 265). 225. Zanker, Power of Images, 266. 226. Zanker, Power of Images, 266. 227. Zanker, Power of Images, 267.



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Zanker has shown how ubiquitous Augustus’ iconography became in Rome. Everyone felt the impact of Augustus’ new symbolism, used in support of a new age. When Augustus used the sphinx as an image of hope as his seal, it suddenly appears on everything from candelabras to table utensils, wall paintings, funerary altars, and urns.228 A pair of cups from Boscoreale that have overt Imperial symbols that could easily have been used as instruments for Imperial feast days are of special interest regarding the Imperial cult.229 The precedent for the veneration of the Emperor in the domestic context throughout the Empire was established with the honours granted to Augustus following his victory at Actium in 31 bc. The Senate declared that a libation was to be poured out to the genius Augusti at all public and private banquets.230 How far this custom spread is illustrated by a wall painting in Pompeii showing the genius of the paterfamilias offering a libation. Carefully added to the adjacent wall is a larger than life, robed figure, carrying a cornucopia. The figure is characterized as the genius Augusti.231 If this wall painting can be reliably dated to just after 30 bc, it is a validation of the effectiveness of the decree by the senate and the willingness of the household to include it as an image of veneration.232 The literary sources for the Imperial cult in the household do not yield entirely satisfying results since ancient literary sources reflect an upper class provenance. Ovid’s account of his own cultic performance on behalf of the Emperor and his family was a display calculated to engender his pardon and invitation back to Rome. When Tacitus reports about an image of Tiberius in a senator’s house, there is nothing unusual about it, other than the fact that it survived a fire.233 Apparently the display of Imperial images inside the domus was not so unusual.234 The Roman household provided the most consistent opportunity for Paul to have been influenced by the practices, images, and ideology of Roman religion, including the cult of the Emperor. The Roman house was the most intimate setting in which the images of the Imperial cult were displayed. Imperial civic iconography conveyed the same messages in marble in the public square. 228. Zanker, Power of Images, 273. 229. Zanker, Power of Images, 272 with photograph of the cup on 228. Zanker notes: ‘Whatever the case with a particular object – whether the owner sought to proclaim his political loyalty or wanted only to enjoy the latest in artistic fashion – the cumulative effect of the new political imagery, echoed in Roman houses on every level of society, must have been inescapable.’ (Zanker, Power of Images, 273, emphasis mine). 230. CD 51, 19, 7. See also, Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 2,1, 375, Gradel, Emperor Worship, 204, and Arnaldo Momigliano, On Pagans, Jews, and Christians (Hanover: Wesleyan University Press, 1987), 185. 231. Fishwick, Imperial Cult 2.1, 376. 232. Fishwick Imperial Cult, 2.1, 376. See also, August Mau, Pompeii in Leben und Kunst, (Leipzig: Englemann, 1908), 278 and George K. Boyce, Corpus of the Lararia of Pompeii (MAAR 14; Rome: American Academy in Rome, 1937). 233. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 203, Tacitus, Ann. 4.64. 234. Gradel, Emperor Worship, 203.

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Civic Imperial Iconography The Imperial cult and the message it promoted spread everywhere as provinces, cities, and local leaders sought to respond in kind with honours, temples, and reverence for Augustus.235 Those in the Greek East had no need for any kind of augmentation to their imagination in respect to veneration of the ruler as a god. The patterns were already well established, and the symbols were readily understood. The difference was found in the person of Augustus. No one had amassed such enormous influence and no one else had the story that Augustus could tell. Imperial iconography was suited to match both the greatness of the person and the strategic nature of his adoption story. A sampling of the cities through which Paul is known to have travelled and to which he wrote reveals that everywhere the apostle to the Gentiles travelled, Imperial iconography was well established. Even on the way to the cities north of Jerusalem, Paul would have been constantly aware of the effect that the Empire had on the world. Roads and city design Paul used Roman roads to get to any of the cities he visited. If we regard Acts a reliable source, the Via Egnatia would have been a favourite road for the first of Paul’s missionary journeys. The prominence of this road was a strategic piece of Roman planning. When developing a colony, the road was the first thing planned for development. Each city would be situated on one of the Roman long-distance roads and the main road would lead directly past the Capitolium where the main Imperial temples were constructed.236 Arriving at the center of town, a traveller passed by the Capitolium, which further conveyed a sense of belonging to the res publica romana.237 Paul Zanker notes the placement of Imperial iconography occupies a central position in the provincial cities.238 Paul was required to pass by the messages of the Empire in order to enter an Imperial city.239 Arriving in Philippi by way of the decumanus that joined it to the Via Egnatia, 235. Zanker, Power of Images, 297. 236. Paul Zanker, ‘City’, 27. 237. Zanker, ‘City’, 29. Zanker elaborates further: ‘All of this was a constant visual reminder to every city-dweller of the importance attached to the worship of the emperor … Direct communication with the emperor, through the medium of cult, gave rise to a new and positive sense of belonging to the Roman Empire’ (Zanker, Power of Images, 298). 238. Zanker states, ‘The physical setting of the cult of the emperor was usually in the middle of the city, integrated into the center of religious, political, and economic life. So, for example, a round Temple of Roma and Augustus was built on the Athenian Acropolis, very near the Erechtheum and Parthenon. In Ephesus, the Temple of Augustus lay in the midst of the Upper Square, a new urban center that grew up around the foundation of the ruler cult’ (Zanker, Power of Images, 298). 239. Zanker, ‘City’, 29.



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Paul must have seen a city gate that displayed a niche for the city gods.240 Although the monument to the cult of Livia had probably not been completed by the time Paul arrived, the cult of Augustus (and also to his adopted sons Gaius and Lucius) would have already been in place and statues of Augustus and his family stood side by side with monuments to the Julio-Claudian emperors and other prominent citizens of Philippi.241 At every turn in Philippi, Paul would have been reminded about the narrative of Roman power and the plan to continue that narrative into the future. There is no literary evidence showing that Paul visited Pergamon, but its location and prominence call for comment. Pergamon shows similar characteristics to any city in Asia Minor. The steep acropolis was a perfect location for the temple to Roma and Augustus. Although remains of this temple are difficult to identify, coins show Augustus with a spear next to Roma in a temple that would have been reminiscent of the actual temple in the city.242 The temple to Roma and Augustus was a source of pride for the citizens of Pergamon. It was the first such temple in Asia and gave bragging rights to the city.243 Once more, if Paul had been a visitor, he would have been exposed to the pervasive influence of Imperial images. In Ephesus, the confluence of Hellenism and Roman Imperialism provided a multi-layered background for Paul’s missionary work.244 Augustus made Ephesus the capital of the Asian province.245 According to Dio, a temple was dedicated here to the Deified Julius and to Dea Roma in 29 bc.246 At the city gate, statues of Augustus and his adopted heirs Gaius and Lucius Caesar looked down on those who passed through.247 Under Nero, the Agora would have been completed and dedicated to Artemis, Nero, and Agrippina.248 240. Chaido Koukouli-Chrysantaki, ‘Colonia Iulia Augusta Philippensis’, in Philippi at the time of Paul and after his Death (eds. Charalambos Bakirtzis and Helmut Koester; Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1998), 5–36, 8, 15. 241. Koukouli-Chrysantaki, ‘Colonia Iulia’, 16. 242. Adela Yarbro Collins, ‘Pergamon in Early Christian Literature’, in Pergamon: Citadel of the Gods, ed. Helmut Koester (Harrisburg: Trinity International Press, 1998), 163–80, 172. Collins observes that the location of the ‘dwelling of Satan’ in Revelation may be referring to the very spot of such a temple and the Great Altar. Cf. Tacitus, Ann. 4.37.3; Price, Rituals and Power, 56; Taylor, Divinity, 147. Here, there is a detail of a coin (fig. 24) that shows the Pergamon temple (Price, Rituals and Power, 56). 243. Daniel N. Schowalter, ‘The Zeus Philios and Trajan Temple: A Context for Imperial Honors’, in Pergamon: Citadel of the Gods, ed. Helmut Koester (Harrisburg: Trinity International Press, 1998), 233–49, 238; Schowalter mentions this pride and the service that the city rendered on behalf of the Imperial cult. 244. See Koester, Ephesos, 1. 245.  Peter Scherrer, ‘The City of Ephesos: From the Roman Period to Late Antiquity’, in Ephesos: Metropolis of Asia, an Interdisciplinary Approach to its Archaeology, Religion, and Culture, ed. Helmut Koester (Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, 1995), 4. 246. Dio Cassius, Hist. 51.20.6. 247. Sherrer, ‘The City of Ephesos’, 6. 248. Sherrer, ‘The City of Ephesos’, 8.

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A major crossroads of the ancient world, Corinth offered a highly diverse population and an economic opportunity for Paul. When Corinth was founded as a Roman colony, there was a complete Romanization of the city while many Greek families were still working farms on the outskirts of the urban center.249 O’Connor describes the numerous Imperial sites that Paul may have seen upon his arrival in Corinth.250 In addition to the possible physical reconstruction, Mary Walbank makes extensive use of the epigraphic and numismatic evidence to reconstruct the Imperial cult at Corinth in the first-century.251 A fragmentary inscription provides the only link to the worship of Julius Caesar, but his appearance on coin issues and Antony’s appointment as flamen in 40 bc should be regarded as evidence.252 It is not until Augustus’ coin issues of 27 and 26 bc that a connection is made in Corinth between Divus Iulius and the new emperor.253 Walbank observes that an inscription naming a high priest of the Imperial cult in Achaia during Nero’s reign implies that there had to be altar or temple that was dedicated to Divius Iulius. In fact, a hexastyle temple of this sort may be indicated by a coin issue from the reign of Tiberius that was dedicated in 32-34 ad.254 Walbank draws the conclusion that this coin issue marked an ‘anniversary… commemorating the original dedication of the temple, not long after the foundation of the colony, at the time when the cult of Divus Iulius was inaugurated.’255 Like Pergamon, Philippi and Ephesus, the Imperial cult was present and active in Corinth in the time of Paul. According to Walbank, there would also have been a monumental statue of Augustus that was dedicated by the Augustales, priests 249. David Gilman Romano, ‘A Tale of two cities: Roman Colonies at Corinth’, in Romanization and the City: Creation, Transformations, and Failures; Proceedings of a Conference held at the American Academy in Rome to Celebrate the 50th Anniversary of the Excavations at Cosa, 14-16 May, 1998, ed. Elizabeth Fentress (Portsmouth: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 2000) 83–104, 89. 250. Jerome Murphy O’Connor, ‘The Corinth that Saint Paul Saw’, BA 47/3 (September 1984), 147–59, 152. 251. In Mary E. Hoskins Walbank, ‘Evidence for the Imperial cult in Julio-Claudian Corinth’, Subject and Ruler: The cult of the Ruling Power in Classical Antiquity; Papers Presented at a Conference held in the University of Alberta on April 13–15, 1994, to Celebrate the 65th Anniversary of Duncan Fishwick, ed. Alastair M. Small (Ann Arbor: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1996), 201–13, 201. 252. Walbank, ‘Evidence for the Imperial cult’, 201. 253. Walbank, ‘Evidence for the Imperial cult’, 202, ‘Corinth was coining regularly between 43 and 27 bce, but it is not until after Actium that the overt connection was made between the new princeps and the deified founder of Corinth, with the implication that Augustus as divi filius shared in his adoptive father’s divine status.’ 254. The inscription referred to is found CIL 386. Walbank, ‘Evidence for the Imperial Cult’, 202. 255. Walbank, ‘Evidence for the Imperial cult’, 203, ‘It would have been appropriate for his temple to be referred to as that of the Gens Iulia, which would have also included his adopted son, Octavian.’



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of the Imperial cult in the provincial cities. The remains of this statue include a three-meter square piece of blue marble that shows the statue bore weight on the right foot and that it included a spear or staff in the left hand.256 Perhaps a glance at one last city will suffice to show the depth of Imperial influence in the social world of Paul. As Paul was imprisoned in Caesarea, he would have been reminded of how one Jewish leader had responded to the Imperial cult. While King Herod managed to steer clear of the struggle for power between Antony and Octavian, he clearly used Octavian’s victory as a vehicle for self-promotion.257 Herod was grateful for Octavian’s extension of lands, offered in gratitude for Herod’s own oath of allegiance.258 As a display of this gratitude, Herod began to construct Caesarea and Sebastos, the harbour. The model that Herod used was Rome itself.259 Hohlfelder notes that Herod had placed a temple honouring both Roma and Augustus just next to the inner harbor.260 This temple was being constructed at the same time as the temple in Jerusalem. In the temple in Caesarea, however, there were two statues of Augustus, one in the fashion of Zeus, and the other of Roma. Given the structure of the building, all who passed by would have been able to view the statues.261 On the breakwater, possibly at a lighthouse, there also stood a prominent monument to Nero Claudius Drusus.262 As Paul journeyed from city to city, the messages and images of Imperial power, notions of divinity, and the importance of Imperial adoption would have been easily observed.

The Res Gestae At this point, it is necessary to keep in mind that the quintessential document of the Imperial cult was an inscription that was published in many cities and regions where Paul laboured. The Res Gestae was published on Imperial monuments all 256.  Walbank states,’Given the dedication, it must surely have been a statue of Augustus and important evidence of the cult of Divus Augustus at Corinth.’ (Walbank, ‘Evidence for the Imperial Cult’, 210). 257.  Robert Hohlfelder makes this opening argument in ‘Images of Homage, Images of Power: King Herod and his Harbour, Sebastos’, Antichthon 37 (2003): 13–31, 13. 258. Hohlfelder, ‘Images of Homage’, 14. 259. Hohlfelder, ‘Images of Homage’, 15. Hohlfelder’s article argues that ‘Herod knew Rome, Augustus, and M. Agrippa well and observed carefully how the physical transformation of Rome was meant to foster a political ideology. When he had the opportunity to do something similar along the eastern Mediterranean coast, he used the occasion to confirm his loyalty to Rome, Augustus and the ideology of the Imperial cult. At the same time he announced and enhanced his own ambitions to be the most powerful client king in the Roman Empire.’ 260. Hohllfelder, ‘Images of Homage’, 24. 261. Hohlfelder, ‘Images of Homage’, 25. See also, Zanker, Power of Images, 250. 262. Hohlfelder, ‘Images of Homage’, 28.

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over the Empire in many different forms. Scholars who have worked on the Res Gestae have focused their efforts on distilling, from the surviving fragments, the history that these inscriptions describe. However, the function of the Res Gestae as a public a monument should be considered as the means by which the Imperial narrative was promoted. Güven observes: ‘As cultural products, inscriptions have continuous and multiple narratives.’263 Archaeology, history, and textual analysis of the Res Gestae must also be accompanied by an appreciation for the intentions of the message itself.264 Suetonius mentions that it was Augustus’ desire to have this first-person account of his reign in front of his mausoleum.265 While the inscription is not presently at this location, and its situation there is uncertain, what is significant is the idea that Augustus wanted it to be there. The publication of the Res Gestae in the Campus Martius was to be a continuous and awe inspiring reminder of the benefactions of Augustus. The sources for the Res Gestae come from Galatia where a Latin and Greek copy exists in a Temple of Rome and Augustus in Ankara.266 The disparate population in the Galatian province, along with the widely divergent geography, made unification under Roman rule challenging. Military might was effective, but the Imperial cult provided opportunities in local towns for subjects to identify with the Emperor and the Empire. This was a far less bloody alternative to war.267 Located in Pisidian Antioch, the most impressive setting of the Res Gestae was located by the temple of Augustus and close to the statue of the vanquished Pisidians.268 No other medium would be necessary to emphasize the dominating influence of the Empire. Paul would have constantly ‘re-experienced’ the Imperial monuments and would have ‘read’ the narrative behind such grand structures.269 It would have been impossible to travel through the cities of Asia Minor and Greece without encountering Imperial iconography along the way. The text of the Res Gestae states that Augustus was proud of the honour that the Senate decreed that he would be honoured with sacrifices and vows. He was also proud that he held prestigious priestly offices.270 Dio reports that some of these sacrifices and vows may have been the result of the honour declared by the Senate that offerings be made in honour of Augustus’ genius in 30 bc.271 Travelling through Galatia, Paul would have been reminded of Augustus’ power and self-promotion. The images of the Emperor, their connection to the Imperial cult, and the story of Augustus’ rise to power would have been all too familiar. The first sentences of the Res Gestae also show 263. Suna Güven, ‘Displaying the Res Gestae’, 30. 264. Güven, ‘Displaying the Res Gestae’, 30. 265. Suetonius, Augustus, 101. 266. Güven, ‘Displaying the Res Gestae’, 32. 267. Güven, ‘Displaying the Res Gestae’, 32. 268. Güven, ‘Displaying the Res Gestae’, 33, 34. 269. Güven, ‘Displaying the Res Gestae’, 39. 270.  Res Gestae, 4, 5, and 10. 271. Dio 51.19.7; Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 301.



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the importance of his adoption. At the beginning of the second section, Augustus states that he drove the ones who murdered his ‘father’ into exile.272 The appearance of the term ‘father’, with the account of the outcome, would have been enough to evoke the entire adoption narrative in the minds of those who read the ‘text’. Philippi, Pergamon, Ephesus, Corinth, Caesarea, and Galatia provide a sampling of cities that show evidence of significant Imperial iconography, an iconography that tells the same story. The story begins with Augustus and ends with his dominion over the entire world. Augustus’ story begins with his adoption by Julius. The story of the Imperial succession perpetuates this feature. Each of the Emperors, from Augustus through Nero, enjoyed power as a result of adoption. The narrative of adoption became ingrained in the narrative of Roman power on each piece of iconography, from the smallest to the largest.273 Each time Paul experienced the message of the Empire; this narrative would be playing in his mind, even while the narrative of the Son of God, Jesus, was playing in his heart. Temples, inscriptions, and dedications to the Imperial cult in Rome The imposing framework of Empire forms the matrix into which smaller societies and cultures were integrated. The Imperial cult provided the means by which the provinces could show loyalty to Rome. In addition, the elite of each province and city, because of their diminished status before the incredible power of the Empire, could increase their local and trans-local prestige through priesthoods and offerings made in the name of the Emperor. Before looking at the kinds of messages that the iconography displayed, it will be necessary to look at the kinds of items that would have been experienced by Paul’s readers in Rome itself. What kinds of images were on display for Paul’s readers in the heart of the Empire and how would they process such images? An investigation into the kind of iconography that would have resonated with Paul’s Roman audience must begin with the transformation of the city of Rome under Augustus’ Imperial program following his victory at Actium in 31 bc. Even prior to the victory at Actium, the Mausoleum of Augustus was constructed in a park that could be viewed from the Via Flamina. This conspicuous location became a focal point for Augustus. Following Actium, however, it was the Roman Forum that saw the greatest changes. Figures of Victory appear all over the structures of the Forum. Racing over the globe with laurels and wreathes, the figure of Victory represents the completed movement by Octavian to avenge Julius Caesar and to consolidate power. The new Curia, also figuring prominently on coin issues, features various deities who aided in the battles, rudders and anchors in hand.274 Pieces of Egyptian ships 272.  Res Gestae, 2: Qui parentem meum trucidaverunt, eos in exilium expuli iudiciis legitimis ultus eorum facinus, et postea bellum inferentis rei publicae vici bis acie. 273. Güven, ‘Displaying the Res Gestae’, 38. 274. Zanker, Power of Images, 79.

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were placed along the speaker’s platform parallel with ships from the Republican victory at Antiates in 338 bc.275 The Forum, once a prominent representation of Republican Rome had become a showcase for Augustus.276 The representations of victory over Antony had to be veiled since it was unseemly to exult over the defeat of another prominent Roman, who still had his share of supporters. The connections that Augustus forged through his iconography were strategic. Rather than focus on the defeated party, Augustus showed, instead, how the gods had favoured him in victory. Where it was necessary, Egyptian symbols sufficed as foils for Augustus.277 In the Res Gestae Augustus claimed to have restored eighty-two temples that had fallen into physical and liturgical neglect.278 The temple to the Deified Julius, the temple of Apollo, the temple of Venus Genetrix, and the temple of Mars Ultor were among the significant projects.279 As each temple was restored, the image of Augustus was blended with the gods who were venerated. This was especially the case with Apollo. Not only did the report surface that there was a connection between the mother of Augustus and Ammon/Apollo, but when his home was struck by lightning, Octavian consecrated it to Apollo and immediately began to plan for a temple.280 Figures on coin issues from the period emphasize the connections with Apollo by featuring the laurel wreath and the tripod.281 The laurel tree, the corona civica, and the clipeus virtutis were common Republican symbols that began to merge with Imperial iconography.282 There was only one sculpture of Augustus in the Forum of Augustus, but it was directly in the center, allowing those who experienced it to tie together Venus, Mars Ultor, and even Divus Julius in the Augustan focal point. These statues emphasized the direct lineage between the Julians and the gods that had been asserted for years.283 The relationship that Augustus emphasized hinged upon his relationship with his adoptive and divine father, Julius. Augustus’ own home became a center for the subtle messages and symbols that would connect his reign to his divine status. Octavian acquired a relatively modest home on the Palatine Hill while he was still a triumvir. Eck has suggested that the location itself was strategically chosen since it was the place where Romulus allegedly founded the city of Rome.284 When the Senate voted Augustus honours in 28/27 bc, they placed the most distinctive features that symbolized divine 275. Zanker, Power of Images, 81. 276. Zanker, Power of Images, 81, 82. 277. Zanker, Power of Images, 83. 278. Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 290. 279. Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 295–6. 280. Taylor, Divinity, 120. 281. Taylor, Divinity, 120. 282. Zanker, Power of Images, 92; Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 297; A. Alföldi, as well, in Die Zwei Lorbeerbäume des Augustus (Bonn: R. Habelt, 1973). 283. This piece is emphasized by Beard, North, and Price, Religions of Rome, vol. 2, 80. 284. Eck, Age of Augustus, 139.



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favour above the door of his home. The symbols included a laurel tree on each side of the door and a civic crown was to be placed above the door making the house appear as if it were a temple.285 When the Senate decided that two laurel bushes be placed on either side of the entrance of Augustus’ house, it was an extreme honour. Julius Caesar became the first general to wear the laurel branch around his neck at all public events. Before Julius Caesar, a triumphant general would wear laurel to declare an end of war and a beginning of peace simultaneously.286 Flory observes that this feature of the Augustan home suggested parallels with other sacred spots, including the office of the Pontifex Maximus and the Vestal Atria.287 Ovid lists many of the potential things that might be symbolized by laurel. He includes: ‘victory in war, peace, Apollo, domestic felicity, the eternal rule of Augustus’ family.’288 The laurel bushes conferred by the Senate for Augustus’ house forged an indissoluble bond with the Imperial family and its mythology. Following the death of Lepidus, Augustus assumed the role of Pontifex Maximus, which should have entailed a change in residence. As a priest, Augustus was required to live in a domus publica. Rather than move, Augustus took part of his own home and turned it into public space, creating a shrine to Vesta in his home.289 While the Vestal Virgins cared for the sacred flame in the Forum Romanum, Livia, Augustus’ wife, cared for the flame in their home.290 In this way, the home of the Emperor became a place where power and religion mingled through a series of symbolic messages and coordinated rituals. When we examined the significance of the testamentary adoption of Octavian by Julius, we noted that Octavian took careful heed of the death of Julius and seemed to have understood what may have pushed the conspirators beyond the limit of their Roman sensibilities. Rather than claim divinity for himself, Augustus undertook to establish the divinity of his adoptive father. This, in turn, allowed Augustus to claim to be the ‘son of god’ rather than a god himself.291 Further, because of the identification of the family genius with the paterfamilias, Augustus had, in effect, assumed the genius of the Julians.292 Augustus focused his attention on cultivating this aspect of his rule as a way of consolidating his power base in the city of Rome and the provinces. 285. Eck, Age of Augustus, 139. 286. Marleen B. Flory, ‘The Symbolism of Laurel in Cameo Portraits of Livia’, Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 40 (1995), 43–68, 43. 287. Flory, ‘The Symbolism of Laurel’, 43. 288. Ovid, Trisita, 3.1.39–46: Flory, ‘The Symbolism of Laurel’, 43. 289. Eck, Age of Augustus, 140. 290. Eck, Age of Augustus, 140. 291. Taylor, Divinity, 149. Taylor makes the following note, as well, ‘On the date when Octavian began to use this title see Mommsen’s note, CIL, I. 12, 54, and his discussion of the title, Staatsrecht II3, 756, n.1.’ 292. Michael Peppard makes a similar observation regarding Hadrian’s own view of adoption (Peppard, Son of God, 73).

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The Senate had voted to have the genius of Augustus honoured with a sacrifice at every public event. Whether or not this actually happened at each and every public event is not critical. The fact that Augustus had received this honour is significant enough. The point to bear in mind regarding any Roman city dweller has to do with the fact that Augustus undertook a subdivision of the city into fourteen regions and 265 vici (neighbourhoods).293 In each of these, Augustus erected shrines of the crossroads god to be attended to by the civic priests. The lares compitales (crossroads gods) were comprised of the lares Augusti and the genius Augusti. The family gods of Augustus were to be honoured and to be offered sacrifice as gods of the city of Rome and the Empire. At every street corner, the vicomagistri (those who were given charge of each city ward) were to parallel the religious cult of the house in the venue of the city street effectively merging civic duty and religious responsibility.294 On the Altar of the Vicomagistri of the vicus Aesculeti, there is a representation of what the sacrificial scene in Rome may have looked like.295 Four robed individuals stand ready to sacrifice at a stone altar. The togas indicate that the four are all freedmen. Their attire also portrays them in a most pious way. Their dress indicates that the four individuals were not in the equestrian or senatorial classes but were non-elite participants in a sacrifice at an altar that would have been intended for the consumption of non-elites.296 An additional element that characterizes the altar is the sacrificial animals. Standing with the four vicomagisters is the pig, to be sacrificed to the lares, and a bull, to be sacrificed to the genius of Augustus. Fishwick observes that, ‘A viewer would immediately identify the bull in the relief with the emperor.’297 Fishwick calls attention to other places where similar scenes are portrayed. He includes the Cancelleria relief, showing scenes from the life of Domitian that portrayed a sacrificial scene where a bull is offered to the genius Augusti and Divus Augustus as well as a coin dated to ad 37–38 that recalled a ‘monumental relief ’ of a similar sort.298 The sacrificial scene depicted on the Altar, the act that this scene signifies, and the display of such scenes at each and every street corner had the combined effect of making every citizen familiar with the idea of honouring or worshipping the emperor’s genius and family gods.299 The genius was Augustus’ spirit of adoption. 293. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 291 n.18. M. Hano, ‘A l’origine du culte impérial: Les autels des Lares Augusti’, in ANRW, 2.16. 3:2333–81. 294. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 81. 295. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 82, fig. 44. 296. Clark, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 82. 297. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 84. Fishwick, Imperial Cult 2.1, 508-09. 298. Fishwick, Imperial Cult, 2.1, 508. 299. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 82. At this point I would like to say that while Christians emphasize a distinction between ‘honour’ and ‘worship’, there may not be as neat a distinction for the ancient Roman. Ando and Gradel make this point when they talk about the ways in which the emperors were thought as divine- perhaps the idea of quasi-divine is closer to the mark. Nonetheless, the honours that were given were honours worthy of a divinity.



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The tutelary spirit, quasi-divine, protector of the family of the Julians, and the representative spirit of unity throughout the Empire was paired with the family gods at every street corner in Rome.300 The Campus Martius was the spot that held Augustus’ Mausoleum, the Egyptian obelisk, and the Ara Pacis. The choice of Augustus to put the most significant monuments in a place where the public would enjoy them had the effect of creating an ancient kind of theme park emphasizing the grandeur and totality of Roman power in the Augustan age. The effect of this space emphasized the divine honours that Augustus had been accorded and makes a claim that Augustus’ reign would exist in perpetuity.301 The Mausoleum, by virtue of its size, demonstrated the greatness of Augustus’ power and dominated every other tomb in Rome.302 The first ones to be buried in the Mausoleum were Marcellus, Gaius, and Lucius, all of whom were intended to take the throne, illustrating the dynastic intentions of Augustus.303 When Strabo saw the Campus Martius, very soon after its final construction, he remarked that the space was large enough to hold the ustrinum (the place where the body of Augustus had been burned) as well as spaces for gardens and walking paths.304 The space was coordinated by design so that an obelisk would show the time throughout the year in coordination with the Mausoleum, the ustrinum, and the Ara Pacis. The obelisk had been brought from Egypt in order to demonstrate the victory of Octavian over Antony and Cleopatra. Augustus only needed to point to the obelisk to show how he had defeated a fellow Roman, annexed an immensely wealthy province, and united the Empire. The last monument in the Augustan theme park of the Campus Martius is the most significant: the Ara Pacis, the altar of peace, begun in 13 bc and finished in 9 bc. The structure makes a complex iconographic statement featuring two principal elements. The frieze and relief-work along the exterior would have been the most accessible and familiar elements for non-elite viewers. The altar itself, enclosed by the relief panels, contained another set of reliefs that only accessible to the elite viewer. The recipients of Paul’s letter, mostly non-elites, would only have seen the exterior panels of the altar.305 The exterior friezes on the north and south sides were most appealing to viewers of the exterior of the structure. There is an extensive procession scene recalling the first procession to the altar at the time of its foundation and completion. The very path the viewer walked coming from the Mausoleum toward the Ara Pacis, rather than passing by on the road also emphasized the original procession.306 300. Peppard, Son of God, 65. 301. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 22–3. 302. Zanker, Power of Images, 73. 303. Eck, Age of Augustus, 160. 304. Strabo, 5.3.9. 305. Clark, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 23–4. 306. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 24.

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Apart from the figures of Augustus and Agrippa, the identification of the other figures in the procession would not have been possible for non-elite viewers. What would have resonated with everyone who approached the altar were the children in the procession.307 The dress of the children is distinctive. Two children wear the outfits of barbarians while a girl is wearing a toga reserved for free male citizens only. Drawing on human interest, Clarke insightfully points out that ‘representing children provided the ordinary person with a point of identification with Augustus and his family.’308 What, then, is the point of the identification? When viewed along with the Mausoleum and the obelisk, the procession scene along the friezes of the Ara Pacis sought to communicate to the Roman populace the stability of the Empire through a plan of succession. The mythical figure of Aeneas, and the preservation of the gods that the myth recalled supports the foundation of the Empire itself. The beautifully decorative flora and fauna that cover the eastern and western friezes established the mythological iconography on which the story of the Empire was built. The children in the procession were identified as those who had yet to take the throne, but who were in one sense or other, already a part of the Imperial family and a part of the plan for succession. In sum, the monuments of the Campus Martius showed the power of the Empire and the essential role of adoption that sustained it. The burial grounds of the Julians, the obelisk that illustrated the enduring and eternal rule of Augustus, and the procession scene on the Ara Pacis all proclaim the results of adoption. As is well known, Augustus had no heirs of his own. If the succession was to be stable, the only available solution was adoption, the very means by which Augustus had come to power. Adoption and the security of the Empire are the two messages that the iconography on the Ara Pacis intended to display.

Numismatics as a testimony to Imperial ideology The coinage of the early Imperial period demonstrates that adoption and the Imperial cult went together. Octavian melded the politics and religion of the Empire and sought an alternative to the idea that his own divinity was essential. The coinage of the period shows that the preferred self-description of Octavian was ‘son of god’ (divi filius), a title that was significant at many different levels. Paul and the Christians in Rome would have been extremely familiar with the title and the adoption that made its utilization possible for Octavian. Roman Republican and Imperial coinage illustrates the use of religious symbols and myths for political purposes. After the Campanian wars in 338 bc, Roman coins circulated in Italy and asserted the supremacy of Rome and paid tribute to 307. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 24–5. 308. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, 25.



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the gods who helped along the way. Each coin has the same basic pattern. The face of a god is on the obverse and the prow of a ship on the reverse.309 Jones provides the following list that details the coin and the god represented: as … Janus. semis …. Saturnus. triens …. Minerva. quadrans …. Hercules. sextans…. Mercury. Uncial… Rome (or perhaps Virtue).

This standard way of marking coins continued until the 130s bc, when the types would change based on the personal choices of the tresviri monetales (the board of three in charge of the mint).310 The preference of the tresviri was to use family names on the coin issues. Williams writes: ‘One of the main characteristics of the new-style coin types was the enlargement of the range of religious imagery available for use far beyond what had previously been normal in Greek traditions. No longer restricted to portraits of gods in profile or full length, the coinage came to depict, often in considerable detail, the material culture of Roman religious practice, from sacrificial vessels, to temples and monuments.’311 Coinage allowed for the self-description of public identities in wide-ranging ways.312 From the earliest period, Rome sought to identify with the gods. Christopher Howgego notes: ‘Religion was overwhelmingly the most common way in which identity was expressed on coins.’313 In fact, Howgego describes the categories of iconography on coins as religion, monumentality, past (myth/ history), time, geography, language, and ‘Roman-ness’. Clearly religious overtones characterize the first three of Howgego’s categories. The coinage types of the late Republic were not standardized and individuals such as Brutus, Cassius, Antony, and Octavian could mint coins individually or jointly depicting all sorts of scenes, deities, and occasions. The situation stabilized under Octavian’s leadership after Actium. The constellation of Octavian’s adoption by Julius Caesar, his victory over Antony, and his project to stabilize the

309. Hugh Stuart Jones provides these necessary points of reference in his brief introduction to Boyne’s text, ‘An Introduction to the Historical Study of Roman Republican and Imperial Coins.’ See also: William Boyne, A Manual of Roman Coins: From the Earliest Period to the Extinction of the Empire (London: Ammon Press Limited, 1968), v, vii. 310. Jonathan Williams, ‘Religion and Roman Coins’, A Companion to Roman Religion, ed. Jorg Rupke (Malden: Blackwell, 2007), 143–63, 144. 311. Williams, ‘Religion’, 144. C. H. V. Sutherland has a similar description in Coinage in Roman Imperial Policy: 31bc–ad68 (London: Methuen, 1951), 2–20. 312. Christopher Howgego, Volker Heuchert and Andrew Burnett, eds., Coinage and Identity in the Roman Provinces (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 1. 313. Howgego, Heuchert, and Burnett, Coinage, 2.

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Empire coalesced on coin issues showing religious, familial, martial, and political messages.314 Sutherland gives an account of the growth of Octavian from heir to princeps by exploring the narrative the coins conveyed. Octavian’s task was daunting. He had to consolidate power, disrupt and then defeat Antony, and then solidify the base of his own power.315 The development from Octavian to Augustus is worked out year by year and coin by coin as the pre-Actium rhetoric is forged into a postActium policy.316 When the silver denarius appeared in 42 bc showing Octavian on horseback, holding a lituus, the coin conveyed images that would resonate with the populace. Williams states: ‘The lituus, then, was a symbol with emotional power … providing factual information about the curriculum vitae of the individual with whom it was associated on the coin, a symbol capable of summoning up in Roman viewers strong feelings about their community’s unique relationship with their gods, and about the augurs who played a large part in mediating that relationship.’317 Octavian began his journey to princeps by evoking a powerful religious image and identity. Before Augustus, one could hardly have predicted that the princeps image would be spread across the world on the back of coins. It was not until 44 bc that a living Roman – Julius Caesar – was portrayed on a coin.318 After Julius, Anthony and Cleopatra appear on coin issues from Syria, but over the course of Augustus’ reign nearly 200 cities standardized his portrait for the obverse feature on their coinage.319 Developing over a long period of time, the standardization of the Augustan portrait indicates that the Empire was not imposing a requirement but that cities were responding to his reign on their own.320 The messages about Augustus that were published on coins reflect the ideas of the cities, provinces, and the civic leaders who were responsible for the coin issue and were not merely the result of forced Imperial propaganda. According to Fishwick, Roman coins also tell the story of the cultus of Rome. In his essay, ‘Coinage and Cult: The Provincial Monuments at Lugdunum, Tarraco, and Emerita,’ Fishwick uses numismatic evidence to establish the date 314. Ando, Imperial Ideology, 209–28. Ando provides an historical narrative that attends to the nature of the mints, reliability of the coin issues, and the reception of coins from the early Empire into the third and fourth centuries ad. 315. Sutherland, Coinage, 15. 316.  Barbara Levick, ‘Messages on the Roman Coinage: Types and Inscriptions’, Roman Coins and Public Life Under the Empire: E. Togo Salmon Papers II, eds. George M. Paul and Michael Ierardi (Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press, 1999), 41–60, 45. 317. Williams, ‘Religion’, 147. 318. Volker Heuchert, ‘The Chronological Development of Roman Provincial Coin Iconography’, Coinage, 29–56, 44. 319. Heuchert, ‘Chronological Development’, 44. 320. Heuchert, ‘Chronological Devlopment’, 44. Heuchert cites Roman Provincial Coinage I, 38–40.



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and location of temples in the provinces based on coins minted around the time when the temples were constructed or were under construction.321 Two points are of interest. First, Roman coins promoted the projects of Roman temple and cult. Whether it is the portraiture of the temple of The Three Gauls on the aes altar coins at Lugdunum, a projected temple to the eternal Augustus in Tarraco, or a similarly projected temple in Emerita, the iconography on the coins reflects the religious practice, expectations, and beliefs of the Empire and the provinces.322 Fishwick uses the coin issues to support his historical investigation into the nature of the cult and temple structures and coordinates the dating of these structures with the approximate date of the coins. For our purposes, however, another point is crucial. In each of the coin issues portraying monuments or temples in the provinces, the idea of Augustus as divi filius, and the chain of adopted emperors, confirm the hypothesis that ‘son of god’ language and adoption imagery were well known, even throughout the western provinces by the time of Nero.323 The coins minted in these three provinces promoted the expensive and prolonged building projects that served the Imperial cult. From Tarraco, the inscriptions on the reverses of dupondii show the text AETERNITATIS AVGVSTAE.324 On the obverse there appears, as Fishwick states, ‘either the radiate head of Augustus with the legend DIVVS AVGVSTVS PATER or a seated figure of the deified Augustus with DEO AVGVSTO; on a different issue appears the laureate head of Tiberius with TI. CAESAR DIVI AVG. F. AVGVSTVS.’325 The coins from Emerita have similar images and similar legends showing Augustus as the divine father and Tiberius as the son of the divine Augustus.326 Even before the adoption of Tiberius, Augustus was already at work in promoting the notion of succession. He had already adopted his daughter Julia’s sons, Lucius and Gaius. Coins minted by C. Marius in Rome in 13 bc show the two adopted sons with their mother on one side, and on the other, Augustus is shown with laurel and the familiar DIVI F.327 Succession is tied to adoption, which is tied to divine honours. Politics and religion are fully integrated on the coins. In terms of Imperial strategy and succession, the story of Augustus’ adoption was also renewed through the use of coins. A coin minted in 12 bc, for example, is 321. Duncan Fishwick, ‘Coinage and Cult: The Provincial Monuments at Lugdunum, Tarraco, and Emerita’, in Roman Coins and Public Life Under the Empire: E. Togo Salmon Papers II, eds. George M. Paul and Michael Ierardi (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1999). 322. Fishwick, ‘Coinage and Cult’, 105. 323. Fishwick, ‘Coinage and Cult’, 95. 324. Fishwick, ‘Coinage and Cult’, 102. 325. Fishwick, ‘Coinage and Cult’, p. 103. 326. Fishwick, ‘Coinage and Cult’, 112. For the innovation in regard to this shift in the coinage see Sutherland, Coinage, 94. 327. Zanker, Power of Images, 216, fig. 167: (a), (b), and (c).

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struck in the style of a coin at the beginning of Octavian’s career, but in the newer issue, Augustus’ image, bearing a star at Julius’ statue, is much larger than that of his adoptive, divine father.328 It was equally important for Augustus to preserve and maintain the story of his own adoption, divinity, and piety as part of the ongoing story of the Roman people and gens Julii. At the death of Tiberius, Gaius came to power and the Imperial mint moved from Lugdunum to Rome.329 The emperor had more influence over the minting standards and images on coins making the plan for Imperial succession much easier to distribute. On dupondii, Nero and Drusus are celebrated as principes iuventutis.330 Coinage regularly showed Gaius to be the apex of the house of Augustus and his new image as an autocrat badly damaged his reception in the Senate.331 After Gaius’ violent death, Claudius’ principate was marked by a more traditional approach. Claudius’ coin issues were still concerned with Augustus’ divinity, and he also connected the present regime with the traditional virtue gods of the past. In 54 ad, Nero came to power under a heavy cloud of suspicion. His mother, Agrippina had arranged to have herself and her son Nero (recently adopted by Claudius), featured prominently on coin issues from Rome.332 With Nero’s rise to power, the Senate attempted to mint coins again for the first time since 12 bc.333 Although the senatorial marker S.C. would still be represented with all of the other titles of Nero on the obverse of coins, it was joined by images that reminded the world that its safety depended on the use of foreign policy by the Imperator, Nero.334 Nero’s genius figures prominently on coin issues between 54–55 ad. Featured on an as, Nero’s genius is portrayed robed with a patera and a cornucopia.335 Nero’s genius is portrayed with that of the city of Corinth, as well.336 This puts the genius of the emperor in connection with the Roman colony of Corinth at exactly the time when Paul wrote his letter to the Romans.

328. Zanker, Power of Images, 220, fig. 25a (34). 329. Sutherland, Coinage, 111–12. 330. Sutherland, Coinage, 113, Plate XI, 4. 331. Sutherland, Coinage, 119. 332. Sutherland, Coinage, 152. 333. Sutherland, Coinage, 153. 334. Sutherland, Coinage, 159. ‘The central government of Rome, which guaranteed Imperial plenty and Imperial security, was stabilized only by the supreme imperator in whose hands lay also the power of financial and economic control.’ 335. Romeo, LIMC, vol. 4, description, 4. (plate, Genius, 38). 336. Andrew Burnett, Michel Amandry, P. P. Ripollés Alegre, and Marguerite Spoerri Butcher, Roman Provincial Coinage, vol. 1 (London: British Museum Press, 1998), 1189–91.



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Conclusion From this survey of the first-century Imperial landscape, it is clear that Paul would have been thoroughly acquainted with Imperial ideology. The narrative of Augustus’ rise to power and the accompanying drama that accompanied each successive transfer of power would have impressed upon Paul the extraordinary importance of adoption in Roman power. While the spread of the Imperial cult was far from uniform, images, honours, and monuments all testified to the same basic reality. Julius, Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero were all a part of the same family and each shared in the identification with the first divinized ruler. The hypothesis about the relationship between the process of adoption and the cult of the Emperor rests on religious connections in the minds of Romans. Did the same genius that rested on Julius now rest on the head of the one who occupied the throne? Could the Empire stay unified if the cult was upset or changed? The locus of divine power for the Imperial cult was fixed on the succession of emperors. This is what makes the apotheosis of Claudius susceptible to farce. It was clear that, of all the emperors, he had been least ‘godlike’. Nonetheless, the Senate made the decree for his apotheosis at the instigation of Nero. Why? It was to preserve the chain of succession that hinged on the family relationship for the impartation of the same, divine spirit of adoption. Paul would have encountered Imperial iconography in cities, along roads, and in fellowship with Gentiles. Paul began to adopt the language of Imperial strategy in order to contest the claims of those who posed as sovereign powers in Rome, and to declare the reality of divine sovereignty and justice in the name of Jesus. The argument of Romans 1–8 draws upon all of the political and religious images that would have been familiar to Paul’s readers/hearers in Rome, in order to capitalize on the congruencies and contrasts between Caesar’s gospel and the gospel concerning Jesus.

Chapter 4 R OM A N S 1 – 5 A N D P AU L ’ S I M P E R IA L ‘H O U SE HO L D ’

Introduction Imperial ideology thoroughly saturated Paul’s world. Everywhere the apostle turned, messages of Rome’s power, story, and religion dominated the physical and mental landscape. Reading Romans within this context requires an almost total renegotiation of Paul’s letter. The purpose of this chapter is to identify the literary context and the possible Imperial antecedents for Romans 1–8 in order to provide a background for an understanding of Romans 8.12-17. A reading of Romans that takes the Roman Imperial context as a potential antecedent for Paul’s argument requires an attentiveness to the symbols, imagery, and language that would have occasioned an association with the Empire on the part of Paul’s Roman audience. An assessment of Romans that examines the Imperial cult has not been made. In addition, a reading of Romans that examines the social location of Paul’s metaphors will contribute to a broader appreciation for his argument. The social location that from which Paul draws is the Roman household. The connection between Romans 7 and Romans 8 is one such difficulty. Ernst Käsemann’s appreciation of the complexity of Chapters 7 and 8 in Romans is instructive. He states, ‘Only detailed exegesis can establish a convincing link between the two chapters. The same applies to the structure of Chapter 7. It is a provisionally open question whether there is an inner logic behind sections 1–6, 7–13, and 13–25.’1 Paul does not seem to share the same opinion. Paul seems to think that there is a logical consistency to this part of the argument. Is the central thesis of Chapters 7 and 8 ‘freedom from the Torah?’2 What is the logic that holds these two chapters together and prepares for Paul’s application of the adoption metaphor and ‘spirit’ language in Romans 8.12-17? N. T. Wright grounds the logical consistency for Paul in Romans 7–8 by appealing to a possible narrative of Exodus and return. Paul’s comments from 5–8 should be attributed to a context that has the narrative of the Exodus as a literary

1. Käsemann, Romans, 186. 2. Käsemann, Romans, 190.

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background.3 According to Wright, Paul is expressing the revelation that the Exile is over for the people of God through the death and resurrection of Jesus.4 Jewett answers the same question with the categories of honour and shame. In discussing the nature of the law and the believer’s liberation from the law, Paul is espousing a different path than the one offered by the typical, first-century, honour/shame system. Jewett states: ‘Rather than being wedded, body and soul, to the all-encompassing system of competition for honour, believers are now wedded to Christ.’5 Answers to Käsemann’s implied question have been inconclusive. Certainly there may be an echo of the Exodus in Romans 5–8, but terms alone and even a broad framework, if it can be identified, do not warrant the conclusion that Paul’s audience would have naturally understood the narrative of the Exodus as a backdrop for Paul’s argument. As attractive as Jewett’s thesis is, ascribing everything to a system of honour/shame in the Roman context insufficiently explains why Paul does not advance this specific injunction more forcefully throughout the letter as a whole. These are not the only rejoinders to Käsemann’s statement about Paul’s discussion in Chapters 7–8. There is a growing consensus for another idea – one on which I will base much of my subsequent argument: the message that Paul systematically develops through these chapters coheres within the framework of a Jewish/Gentile discussion about who should and who should not be considered legitimately a part of the family of God. Krister Stendahl’s essay ‘Paul among the Jews and Gentiles,’ advances the argument that ‘Paul was chiefly concerned about the relation between Jews and Gentiles– and, in the development of this concern, he used as one of his arguments the idea of justification by faith.’6 Stendahl’s work in this essay, along with the accompanying essay, ‘Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West’, has been significant in the appreciation of this central dynamic in Paul’s thought. Stendahl has also exposed how scholars have missed this central theme because the emphasis on Paul’s thought was inadvertently (best case scenario) or intentionally (worst case) directed away from the relationship of Gentiles to Jews and placed on a contrast between Christianity versus Judaism.7 Paul is continually developing his case for the full inclusion of Gentiles among the people of God. The Gentiles are not to regard themselves as outside God’s family. Instead, Paul forcefully insists that Gentile believers are every bit the children of God that the Jews are. Gentile believers are not to be regarded as 3. N. T. Wright, Robert W. Wall, and J. Paul Sampley, The Acts of the Apostles, Introduction to Epistolary Literature, the Letter to the Romans, the First Letter to the Corinthians, NIB vol. 10, ed. Robert W. Wall (Nashville: Abingdon, 2001), 550. 4. N. T. Wright forcefully advances this thesis in his book, The Climax of the Covenant (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992). 5. Jewett, Romans, 454. 6. Krister Stendahl, Paul among the Jews and Gentiles (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976), 3. 7. Stendahl, Paul, 79.



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illegitimate heirs but as adopted brothers and sisters of God the Father, through the Son, Jesus Christ, and because of a Spirit of adoption. As we might expect, in discussing the status of Gentile believers within the family of God, the key social location for Paul’s evidence regarding this claim comes out of the imagery of the Roman household.

Identifying Paul’s gentile readership for his Roman letter The full inclusion of Gentile believers as legitimate members in the family of God has been at the front of Paul’s mind from the beginning of Romans. That this could be undervalued lies in the fact that interpreters concentrate on other concerns.8 Paul would not have recognized a full-blown dichotomy between Jews and Christians, but he does understand the significance of the separation of Jews from Gentiles. Paul’s letter to the Romans was intended primarily for Gentiles.9 While Paul wrote from a Jewish point of view and with Jewish sensitivity, he addressed a Gentile audience who may have felt tempted to abandon the God of the Jews because of their perceived lack of full status.10 In 1.5-6, Paul’s stated purpose is to bring about ‘the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of His name, including yourselves who are called to belong to Jesus Christ.’ Paul’s mission and his addressees were Gentiles.11 There must be an appraisal of what may be inferred about Paul’s intended Gentile audience in Rome.12

8. Stendahl, Paul, 79. Stendahl emphasizes that the introspective tendency of Augustine and Luther has, until recently, been the normative and most influential reading. See also Stanley K. Stowers, A Rereading, 1–4. 9. John Gager makes this same point, as well, in Reinventing Paul (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 107. 10. Mark Nanos emphasizes a similar position in advocating for a thoroughly Jewish Paul who is writing as a Jew to a Gentile readership. See Mark Nanos, The Mystery of Romans: the Jewish Context of Paul’s Letter (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 10. 11. A further note of clarification must be offered in regard to terminology. Paul refers to Jews and Greeks. There is no further description. In this section of the book the language mediates between the categories of Gentiles, Gentile believers, and Gentile God-fearers. I have attempted to use the term that best reflects my understanding of Paul’s intent. 12. This approach differs from J. D. G. Dunn who begins the interpretive task with Paul. Dunn states, ‘It is self-evidently necessary to set the letter to Rome within the context of its author’s life’ (J. D. G. Dunn, Romans, 1–8, xlv). Jewett agrees with an approach that is audience centered rather than author centered. He states, ‘Interpreting the rhetoric and argument of a letter requires a grasp of the “first audience” to which it was directed.’ (Jewett, Romans, 59).

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Reconstructing the origins of Paul’s Roman audience A great deal of information about first-century Rome is available to interpreters of Romans. Sociology, archaeology, Roman literature, and evidence from Paul’s letter provide a context for the community Paul had in mind. Peter Lampe’s sociological approach, the archaeological data used by Peter Oakes and David Orr, the witness of first-century authors regarding the Jewish community in Rome, and the information that can be gathered from Paul’s letter itself, all strengthen and contribute to the central notion that by the time Paul writes to Rome, he has decided to direct his letter to low-status Gentile God-fearers (slaves and freed-persons).13 While the origins of Christianity at Rome are shrouded in mist, it seems likely the Christian faith came to Rome with merchants and with transported slaves from the eastern Mediterranean.14 The two expulsions of Jews from Rome under Tiberius in 19 ad and then again, most likely in 49 ad under Claudius, provide evidence that there were Jews in Rome to evict.15 Suetonius’ remark that the expulsion under Claudius was the result of a controversy over ‘Chrestus,’ indicates there were Christians in Rome, as well as Jews.16 The repeal of Claudius’ edict brought about the resettlement of those who had left Rome. As Lampe states, ‘With the events surrounding the “edict of Claudius”, urban Roman Christianity steps for the first time into the light of history.’17 13. See Peter Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries, trans. M. D. Johnson (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003); David Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, ANRW, 2.16.2, ed. Wolfgang Haase (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1978), 1557–91, and Peter Oakes, Reading Romans in Pompeii: Paul’s Letter at Ground Level (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2009). See also, David Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion: A Study of the Roman Household Deities and their Shrines at Pompeii and Herculaneum’ (Unpublished Dissertation; University of Maryland, 1972). 14. While it may be Priscilla and Aquila who are responsible for the origins of Christianity in Rome, any firm conclusion is doubtful (Lampe, 7). See also, Fitzmyer, Romans, 30; and Dunn, Romans 1–8, xlvii. 15. Lampe does address the controversy surrounding the dating of Claudius’ edict. ‘The simplest solution is still that the edict of Claudius occurred in the year 49.’ (Paul to Valentinus, Lampe, 15). Gerd Lüdemann, Paul, Apostle to the Gentiles: Studies in Chronology (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 16471, argues that, despite Cassius Dio’s statement to the contrary, the Jews were expelled in 41 ad. Francis Watson has argued that the ‘disorders among the Roman Jews because of the preaching of the Christian gospel had been going on for some time before Claudius finally lost patience and expelled them in ad 49. His decree forbidding meetings of ad 41 may therefore have been an earlier measure designed to solve the same problem’ (Francis Watson, Paul, Judaism, and the Gentiles: A Sociological Approach (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 93). See also Arnaldo Momigliano, Claudius: The Emperor and his achievement, trans. W. D. Hogarth (New York: Barnes and Noble, 1961), 31–3. 16. Fitzmyer, Romans, 31. 17. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 11, cites Acts 18.2; Suetonius, Claudius 25.4; Orosius, History. 7.6.15; and Cassius Dio 60.6.6.



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Leonard Rutgers asserts that the only real reason behind either expulsion was ‘law and order.’18 The Jews, having arrived in Rome sporadically since the second century bc, came as slaves after Pompey’s victory in Jerusalem in 63 bc.19 Rutgers concludes that the Jews who would have merited the punishment of expulsion for some sort of unruly behavior belonged to three distinct groups: slaves, free peregrini or Latini Iuniani, or Roman citizens.20 At the point where an expulsion edict must be given, any Jew left in Rome was in the lowest social stratum. This matches Lampe’s conclusions. Lampe locates Jews in Rome in Porta Capena and Trastevere. The Jews in Rome lived in one of the poorest and most densely populated locations in the city.21 Jewett states, ‘Trastevere was full of immigrants out of the east and was the site of mystery religion shrines and temples as well as the major center of the Jewish population. This section, which lay across the Tiber from the rest of Rome, was left untouched by the Roman fire, which may account in part for the later scapegoating of Christians by Nero.’22 These characteristics help us to envision the community that Paul may have had in mind when he began to write his letter. The idea that Paul would have been entirely ignorant of the Roman house churches because he had never visited the city is off the mark. The ways in which people travelled, and, as a result of Claudius’ edict, were forced to travel; make it likely that Paul knew about the congregation(s) he was addressing.23 Assuming that the Acts account is historically reliable, Acts 18.1-3 makes it clear that Paul meets Priscilla and Aquila in Corinth, after their expulsion from Rome,24 18.  Leonard Victor Rutgers, ‘Roman Policy Towards the Jews: Expulsions from the City of Rome during the First-century C.E.’, Classical Antiquity 13 (April 1994): 56–74, 74. 19. Rutgers, 59, relies on Philo of Alexandria. See also, Wolfgang Wiefel ‘The Jewish Community in Ancient Rome and the Origins of Roman Christianity’, in The Romans Debate: Revised and Expanded, ed. Karl Donfried (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 1995), 85–101, 87. 20. Rutgers, ‘Roman Policy’, 60. 21. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 50; cf. Jewett, Romans, 63. 22. Jewett, Romans, 63. 23. Even though Fitzmyer presupposes Paul’s ‘ignorance’ in regard to the Roman congregation, he follows this comment with a statement that explains exactly how an acquaintance with the Roman church could have been established. There was a relationship between the Roman church and Jerusalem and the edict of Claudius may have given an opportunity for those in Rome to visit with other church leaders (Fitzmyer, Romans, p. 33). Nowhere in Paul’s letter is there a confession on the part of the author that describes his ‘ignorance’ where their specific situation is concerned. 24. C. K. Barrett states, ‘That Paul was acquainted with and assisted by a married couple, Aquila and Priscilla, is confirmed by the epistles (Rom. 16.3-5; 1 Cor. 16.19; cf. 2 Tim. 4.19). Expulsion of the Jews from Rome raises historical problems as regards its date but hardly as regards the fact … [that] there are too many concrete details, which in themselves show no special Lucan tendency, for the paragraph not to have been drawn from a Paul-source’ (Barrett, Acts 15–28, ICC (London: T&T Clark, 1998), 858).

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Reimagining the Roman household Having surveyed sociological and literary evidence concerning the interaction of Jews and Christians in Rome, it becomes essential to understand the likely social situation that Paul’s audience faced in light of archaeological data. Peter Oakes and David Orr provide altogether different sets of archaeological surveys, but they contribute to a full picture of domestic life with which Paul was probably familiar when he wrote Romans. Using archaeological evidence from Pompeii, Peter Oakes describes several possibilities for Paul’s audience in Rome and explores the text of Romans as it may have appeared to a person implied by the evidence.25 Paul’s statements about God’s justice would have been encouraging for a person at the bottom of the social ladder who only saw injustice in the system of Roman rule.26 Paul’s message about the justice of God, resulting in a higher status, would indeed have given a person in this social setting a bit of hope.27 A freed slave may have been in a slightly improved social situation but faced threats everywhere.28 In this social context Paul’s encouragement to hope in the Holy Spirit and his call to endure would have been significant.29 His announcement concerning the promise of eternal life (cf. Rom. 2.7; 4.17; 5.21; 6.23) would have provided comfort and strength to those whose economic situation was dire.30 Oakes describes one such case when he reads Romans through the eyes of a slave constrained to be a prostitute. Oakes suggests that Paul’s thoughts of liberation from the law of sin and death would have been greeted with enthusiasm by those whose social context obligated them to live within the confines of behavior seen as expressly sinful. Oakes states, ‘The Spirit is somehow breathing life into this bodily situation that was rendered dead by sin. This is a call to a more complex life than a simple dualistic defensiveness. Somehow, the embodied life can be a sphere of the Spirit’s action, even during the suffering that Paul is about to describe.’31 The Gentile craftsman provides an interesting way for Oakes to think through the Jewish context of Romans. While the interpretation seems forced on certain levels, Oakes’ perspective on how a house-church host would have greeted Paul’s letter does yield some helpful results. Paul had to assume that his audience would have understood enough of Judaism to appreciate the arguments that he makes.32 The context and description of a possible house church is a helpful component in understanding the backdrop of Paul’s letter in Rome. 25. Oakes, Reading Romans, 129. 26. Oakes, Reading Romans, 133. 27. Oakes, Reading Romans, 135. 28. Oakes, Reading Romans, 138. 29. Oakes, Reading Romans, 139. 30. Oakes, Reading Romans, 141. 31. Oakes, Reading Romans, 148. 32. Fitzmyer, Romans, 34.



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The craftsman’s house in Pompeii might be similar to a home that might be found in Rome. The Pompeian house had murals on the wall that depict the kind of Greek myths that Paul might have encountered. David Orr has accounted for the kinds of religious depictions that are evident in the private homes of Pompeii.33 If Orr’s depiction corresponds to a similar situation in Rome, the juxtaposition of Roman Imperial and Greek mythological imagery against Paul’s letter is striking. Orr states, ‘The household shrines of Pompeii, dating from the late Republican and early Imperial periods, serve as typological reference points for the whole Roman world, since no other town has equaled their quality, degree of preservation, and variety.’34 The three types of household shrines have been described more thoroughly above.35 The niche type, the miniature temple type, and the wall-painting type are represented in Pompeii.36 The wall paintings are a mix of sacred and profane images, all intertwined with an undercurrent of Roman religious sentiment. The genius, penates, and other mythological scenes, along with the symbolic decoration surrounding the paintings all contribute to an environmental context in Rome, against which Paul’s gospel would have been heard.37 The literary context of Romans and Paul’s audience After describing and clarifying the social context with archaeological data, the purpose behind Paul’s letter takes on clarity against its literary context. Following Walter Schmithals and William Campbell, A. J. M. Wedderburn undertook the task of recreating Paul’s motivating concerns.38 Since Harry Gamble has demonstrated the unity of Romans as a whole, the evidence in Chapter 16 may indicate that Paul has a number of small gatherings in mind when he writes.39 Wedderburn notes that Christianity prior to Paul’s 33. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1576. 34. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1576. 35. See the section on ‘Household Religion’ in Chapter 3, above. 36. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1577. 37. Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 1584–5, plate III, fig. 5, 6; plate IV, fig. 8, 9; plate V, fig. 10, 11 present the variety of images with the kind of serious religious presentation along with an almost comical or farcical representation of divinities found on the walls of houses in Pompeii. 38.  A. J. M. Wedderburn, ‘The Purpose and Occasion of Romans Again’, in The Romans Debate: Revised and Expanded, ed. Karl P. Donfried (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1991), 195–202. Wedderburn’s subsequent monograph on the topic covers this debate thoroughly and provides essential data. See Wedderburn’s The Reasons for Romans (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988). See Walter Schmithals, Der Römerbrief als historisches Problem (Studien zum Neuen Testament ix, Gütersloh, 1975) and William Campbell, ‘Why did Paul write Romans?’ ExpTim, 85 (1974): 264–9. 39. Harry Gamble, The Textual History of the Letter to the Romans: A Study in Textual and Literary Criticism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977). See also, Wedderburn, Reasons, 45

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letter to Rome had to be connected to Judaism. Ambrosiaster indicates the Jews who confessed Christ handed over the faith to the Romans.40 Wedderburn states, ‘At this point we need, however, to be clear that not all who professed this “Judaizing” form of Christianity need have been Jews by birth; many may well have been of Gentile origin, but had espoused Judaism as proselytes, either before accepting a form of Christianity or, conceivably, at the time of receiving it in a form that embraced adherence to Judaism as part of its message.’41 Wedderburn alludes to the evidence of 1 Clement in support of the idea that there was an antecedent Jewish Christianity in Rome up until the last decade of the firstcentury. Despite this evidence, however, a concrete picture of the Roman church remains obscure.42 Wedderburn concluded that the possible makeup of Roman Christianity was originally Jewish but had become increasingly marginalized by Gentiles, who looked to dispense with the law.43 With this in mind, Wedderburn examines Paul’s request of the Roman church to provide prayers for his impending visit to Jerusalem as he plans to deliver a contribution to the Temple. Romans 15.30-32 might not provide the reason for Romans but it does imply something of the background that Paul saw for those who would receive the letter because by inviting the church to offer prayer, Paul implicitly aligns the Roman congregation with the other Gentile churches that have already offered financial support for the contribution.44 A Gentile congregation (or congregations) makes the most sense of Paul’s appeal for prayer. Paul’s target audience is Gentile, and his letter emphasizes this point in key places. Paul states that he has been given the apostleship to bring obedience among ‘all of the Gentiles’ (Rom. 1.5) and his anticipated harvest at Rome would be similar to that ‘among the rest of the Gentiles’ (Rom. 1.13). Paul locates his audience as explicitly Gentile in 11.13 and 15.14-19.45 The formulaic character of Paul’s phrases ‘to the Jew first and then to the Greek’ (1.16; 2.9, 10) and ‘both Jews and Greeks/Gentiles’ (3.9, 29, 30; 9.24; 10.12) substantiate the point.46 The only readers Paul explicitly references are Gentiles. This fact should govern the interpretation. Paul is engaged in an argument with Gentile believers as he encourages them in their newfound status with the Jews as full members in the people of God.

40. Wedderburn, Reasons, 51. 41. Wedderburn, Reasons, 51–2. 42. Wedderburn, Reasons, 54. 43. Wedderburn, Reasons, 64. 44. Wedderburn, Reasons, 74. 45. Jewett, Romans, 70. 46. Jewett, Romans, 70. See also: Dunn, Romans, 1–8, xlv and Nanos, Mystery, 10-11. It may be that Paul was interested in protecting the displacement of Israel’s God from Gentile Christianity but was not concerned with the Jewish minority in the Roman congregations as such.



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Paul’s gentile audience in Romans 1–3 The evidence in the text of Paul’s letter points to a predominantly Gentile audience. After Paul’s references to the Gentiles in Romans 1.5 and 1.13, the characterization of sinful Gentiles in 1.18-32 seems to incorporate every kind of vice Paul can imagine.47 If God’s wrath has been rightly revealed against all wickedness, there is little hope on the part of the Gentiles. It is significant to note, however, that Paul does not automatically group his readers into this category. Paul’s description is about ‘them’. He uses third person pronouns until the end of the chapter. Romans 2 begins with a shift in character and Paul engages in a diatribe with a Gentile God-fearer who views his position in different terms, and thus Paul moves from a third-person address to a second person address. This section clearly shows the characteristics of a speech-in-character. There is a hortatory section in the diatribe, an accusatory statement, and there are several rhetorical questions.48 Stanley Stowers, who also reads Paul’s letter to the Romans with the Gentiles in mind, understands the persona that Paul adopts in Romans 2 as that of a Gentile who has forsaken the godlessness of 1.18-32 and feels entitled to judge others.49 Picking up on the familiar trope against the vices of the Gentiles, Paul then balances his account with the Gentile who views him or herself as beyond reproach and qualified to be the judge. The weight of scholarly opinion concerning Romans 2.17-29, as Stowers points out, favours the interpretation of Paul’s words as a piece of anti-Jewish polemic.50 Paul has no interest, however, in categorically condemning Judaism as a whole. Paul’s intention is to set up a scenario in which his readers can readily identify the caricature of a well-known position in order to draw a contrasting opinion from within their own community. Paul intends to draw a caricature of the overly scrupulous Gentile God-fearer in order to contrast this figure with the one who is characterized as desperately sinful in 1.18-32. Making the same point, Robert Jewett shows that Epictetus can be seen mocking a pretentious philosopher in the same way: 47. Fitzmyer notes, ‘In this subsection Paul echoes the judgement about the pagan world current among Jews of his day. Nevertheless, he is not saying that every individual pagan before Christ’s coming was a moral failure. He speaks collectively and describes a de facto situation.’ (Fitzmyer, Romans, 270.) For other lists of this sort see Wisdom of Solomon 13.1-19; 14.22-31. 48. Stanley K. Stowers, The Diatribe and Paul’s Letter to the Romans (Chico: Scholars Press, 1981), 79–80. 49. Stanley K. Stowers, A Rereading, 99–102. Dunn interprets the passage in strictly Jewish terms so that Paul is building a case against Jewish presumption in 2.1-16. He builds this case even though there is no specific mention made of the Jew, specifically, until the next subsection. (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 77). See Jewett, Romans, 152 and Fitzmyer, 270. It may seem like a small point to make, but Paul does envision a subset of humanity. 50. Stowers, A Rereading, 141.

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Why, then, do you call yourself a Stoic, why do you deceive the multitude, why do you act the part of a Jew when you are a Greek? Do you not see in what sense men are severally called Jew, Syrian, or Egyptian? For example, whenever you see a man halting between two faiths, we are in the habit of saying, ‘He is not a Jew, he is only acting the part.’ But when he adopts the attitude of mind of the man who has been baptized and has made his choice, then he both is a Jew in fact and also called one. So we also are counterfeit ‘Baptists’, ostensibly Jews, but in reality something else, not in sympathy with our own reason, far from applying the principles which we profess, yet priding ourselves upon them as being men who really know them.51

According to Jewett, the diatribe of 2.17-29 has a pretentious Jewish teacher in mind, far removed from the community. He states: ‘In an elegant manner that Paul’s audience would have enjoyed, Paul augments the previous depiction of the pretentious bigot with a series of boasts that exaggerate well-known Jewish claims.’52 The Jew that Paul has in mind is contrasted with the Gentile God-fearer of the previous section. The Gentile may keep the law that is written on the heart while the Jew disregards it at worst or willingly disobeys it, at best, relying on the mark of circumcision. The point at issue is not about Judaism versus Christianity. The point at issue is the particular characterization of Jewish and Gentile responses to the law, and that in extreme cases where Gentiles seek to follow the whole law and Jews disregard it. Romans 3.1-9 begins another section of diatribe where a series of questions will occupy Paul’s attention throughout the rest of the argument of the letter.53 These questions, posed to a Gentile readership, are about the true identity of the people of God. Are Jews the only people that can be legitimate children of God (3.1)? Has a lack of faith on the part of some nullified the promises of God and jeopardized their own blessing (3.2)? If it is true that the law of the Jews is not the ultimate litmus test for the definition of the people of God, does that not mean 51. Jewett, Romans, 221–2. Epictetus, Diss. 2.9.19–21 (Oldfather, LCL). τί οὖν Στωικὸν λέγεις σεαυτόν, τί ἐξαπατᾷς τοὺς πολλούς, τί ὑποκρίνῃ Ἰουδαῖον ὢν Ἕλλην; [20] οὐχ ὁρᾷς, πῶς ἕκαστος λέγεται Ἰουδαῖος, πῶς Σύρος, πῶς Αἰγύπτιος; καὶ ὅταν τινὰ ἐπαμφοτερίζοντα ἴδωμεν, εἰώθαμεν λέγειν ‘οὐκ ἔστιν Ἰουδαῖος, ἀλλ᾽ ὑποκρίνεται.’ ὅταν δ᾽ ἀναλάβῃ τὸ πάθος τὸ τοῦ βεβαμμένου καὶ ᾑρημένου, τότε καὶ ἔστι τῷ ὄντι καὶ καλεῖται Ἰουδαῖος. [21] οὕτως καὶ ἡμεῖς παραβαπτισταί, λόγῳ μὲν Ἰουδαῖοι, ἔργῳ δ᾽ ἄλλο τι, ἀσυμπαθεῖς πρὸς τὸν λόγον, μακρὰν ἀπὸ τοῦ χρῆσθαι τούτοις ἃ λέγομεν, ἐφ᾽ οἷς ὡς εἰδότες αὐτὰ ἐπαιρόμεθα. 52. Jewett, Romans, 229. N. T. Wright does not interpret this section as a Pauline antiJewish rant but rather as Paul’s description of Israel’s failure to follow out its God-given vocation. This changes the emphasis away from Judaism, per se, but it does not lift the anti-Jewish sentiment of the interpretation. (Wright, ‘Romans’, NIB, 445). 53. Jewett, Romans, 239. For the investigation into the way in which Paul’s questions in Romans 3 inform the structure of Paul’s argument, see William S. Campbell, ‘Romans III as a Key to the Structure and Thought of Romans’, in The Romans Debate, ed. Karl P. Donfried (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 1991), 251–64.



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that God has been unjust (3.10-20)? That is not the case. The faithfulness of Jesus has overcome the faithlessness of a few and has ushered in a redemption that constitutes the people of God (3.21-26). In addition to his concentration on the status of Gentiles and Jews and the relationship between them, Paul provides valuable signposts in Chapters 1–3 for what will become critical to the development of his argument. The key to Paul’s concept of Gentile inclusion is found in the logic of his metaphors. Paul’s metaphors come from the world of the Roman ‘household’. The social location of the Roman household has already figured obliquely in Chapters 1–3. In the introduction to the letter (Rom. 1.1-7), Paul uses terms that set the relationship between God and Jesus Christ in the context of family. It is the ‘gospel concerning His son’ that Paul sees as having been ‘promised’ through the prophets. Paul declares Jesus to be ‘Son of God’ through the ‘spirit of holiness’ in 1.4. While κλητοί, in 1.6, can have a courtroom setting, in the Septuagint, it is used in a naming formula.54 In Genesis 17.19 the verb is used in the naming of Isaac: καὶ καλέσεις τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ Ισαακ. The same construction is used in 1 Samuel 1.20 (LXX) when the Lord instructs Hannah to name her son: καὶ ἐκάλεσεν τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ Σαμουηλ. While the term will later acquire the sense of a ‘called one’ for early Christians and even for some of the mystery religions, there is a clear referent to a family context from Paul’s point of view.55 The vice list of 1.18-32 shows a progression of degradation that Jews regularly used to characterize their Gentile counterparts.56 Paul’s allusion to Gentile sexual vices as noted in the Wisdom of Solomon 11–15 is a key reminder that the household was supposed to be the place where sexuality was to be regulated.57 As the vice list progresses, there is an appearance of a household image. The palate of sin has a domestic dimension. In verse 30, even indicts the children as those who are disrespectful of their parents: γονεῦσιν ἀπειθεῖς. Again, while clearly not the main idea that he wishes to represent in 2.17-29, Paul points to the household when he mentions adultery (2.22) and circumcision (2.25-29). Circumcision can be thought of as a circumlocution for ‘Torah observance’ but we should not forget, the covenant marker was inscribed in the home on the eighth day after the birth, when the son received his name. Paul begins working out the ramifications of Jewish and Gentile inclusion within the family of God in earnest in Chapter 3 after both have been equally indicted. Paul’s interlocutor asks about the potential advantage of the Jews. In this context, Paul publishes a catena of references from the Psalms to substantiate the conclusion of 3.22-23. The righteousness of God is disclosed, that is, ‘the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there 54. See LSJ, 960. 55. James H. Moulton and George Milligan, The Vocabulary of the Greek New Testament Illustrated from the Papyri and other Non-literary Sources (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1929), 348. 56. Fitzmyer, Romans, 272; cf. Wisdom of Solomon 13.1-19; 14.22-31. 57. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 53.

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is no distinction, 23  since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.’ The keyword ‘all’ prepares the way for chapter 4 where Paul will elevate Abraham as the pioneer of faith. Abraham: The forefather of Jews and Gentiles The way Paul begins Chapter 4 provides a clue to Paul’s rhetorical interests. When he says, ‘what shall we say concerning Abraham, our ancestor according to the flesh’ (Τί οὖν ἐροῦμεν εὑρηκέναι Ἀβραὰμ τὸν προπάτορα ἡμῶν κατὰ σάρκα;), who, exactly, is the ‘our’ that Paul is referencing? By the end of the chapter, Abraham’s reference and example make complete sense. Paul is referring to both Jews and Greeks. The constitution of God’s people has always been by faith not by flesh, Jewish or Gentile. Paul’s choice of Abraham as ‘our’ forefather brings the Roman readership into a cosmic story of God’s justice. As 1 Corinthians 10.1-6 demonstrates, Paul has held this view previous to his engagement with Rome. Paul states, ‘I do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, that our ancestors were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea, and all were baptized into Moses in the same cloud and in the sea, and all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual rock that followed them, and the rock was Christ.’ The ‘all’ Paul envisions in Corinth incorporates Gentile believers. Paul draws them up into his argument and contributes textual evidence that he qualifies with the experience of baptism. By the end of Romans 3, Paul has drawn Jews and Gentiles together so that neither group exceeds the other. ‘All have sinned and lack God’s glory.’ Using the first person pronoun at the beginning of Chapter 4 Paul intends to show that Gentiles, too, can be identified with Abraham within the family story. As Israel Kamudzandu has noted, the inclusion of Abraham brings the notion of ancestry into central focus for Paul’s audience.58 The character of Abraham and the specific time, i.e. before the rite of circumcision, are critically relevant to Paul. Linking a pre-circumcision Abraham to the justice of God helps Paul to draw his audience into Abraham’s story. Virgil did something similar when he drew the Greeks into the Roman Imperial narrative by employing the story of Aeneas as the ancestor of Rome.59 What Virgil did with his epic poetry Augustus accomplished by extending citizenship to foreigners and by incorporating citizens as descendants of Aeneas.60 58. Kamudzandu, Abraham, p. 118. 59.  Karl Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 234-40. On the religious significance of the Virgil’s Aeneid, see Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 246–53, 295. 60.  Kamudzandu cites Arnaldo Momigliano, On Pagans, Jews, and Christians (Hanover: Wesleyan University Press, 1987), 265. See Israel Kamudzandu, ‘Abraham as a Spiritual Ancestor in Romans 4 in the Context of the Roman Appropriation of Ancestors: Some Implications of Paul’s use of Abraham for Shona Christians in Postcolonial Zimbabwe’ (Unpublished Dissertation, Texas Christian University, 2007), 38.



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Kamudzandu demonstrates how both Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Virgil use the Aeneas myth in the Augustan age to coordinate the expanding Empire, to promote Augustus as the ideal heir of Aeneas, and to reflect on the anticipated ‘Golden Age’ that was on the horizon.61 Paul would have been familiar with the ways Augustus used the Aeneas myth to draw disparate peoples into a common ‘ancestry’. Many coins featured Aeneas as the progenitor of the Julian family dynasty.62 Kamudzandu cites one coin that features Aeneas carrying the Palladium: ‘Like all the Julians, Caesar claimed to have descended from Aeneas and Venus, and emphasizing this Trojan descent is likely the primary reason for the coin issue, especially since the head of Venus appears on the obverse. Imperial propaganda was always to be found on Imperial coinage.’63 In addition to coins, Paul would also have witnessed the same kinds of statements listed on the bronze tables of the Res Gestae.64 Connecting Abraham to Jesus (by way of the Davidic line), Paul demonstrates a similar intent to that of the Aeneas myth. Discussing the possibility of Jewish advantage, Paul recognizes Abraham’s place at the beginning of the lineage.65 Paul’s purpose, however, is to show that, like Augustus’ use of Aeneas, Abraham’s function was to incorporate members into the family of God.66 Paul draws the Gentile congregations in Rome to his side in the argument by identifying Abraham as a common ancestor. Kamudzandu summarizes Paul’s task: ‘Rome’s adoption of the legend (of Aeneas) allows us to comprehend Paul’s creative interpretation of Abraham as the spiritual ancestor of all who have faith in God … 61. Kamudzandu, Abraham, 43. Further on Kamudzandu, writes, ‘At the time of Augustus, “The myth of Aeneas was central to the Roman ideology and helped to serve Augustus’s cultural and political reforms”.’ See Moses Hadas, ‘Aeneas and the Tradition of the National Hero’, AJP 69/4 (1948): 408–14, 408 (Kamudzandu, Abraham, 50). See also, Arnaldo Momigliano, ‘How to Reconcile Greeks and Romans’, in Settimo contributo alla storia degli studi classici e del mondo antico, ed. Arnaldo Momigliano (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 1984). 62. Paul Zanker, Power of Images, 36. Zanker states, ‘Caesar had already put Venus and Aeneas on his coins as a sign of the Julian gens’ divine ancestry (fig. 27a).’ Figure 27a is a coin issued by Julius Caesar in 46 bc showing Aeneas carrying his father and his gods. (Zanker, Power of Images, 35). 63. Kamudzandu, Abraham, 78. See also, Burnett, Amandry, and Ripoles, eds., Roman Provincial Coinage, 173. See also vol. 2, plates 652 and 2306, where Aeneas has his father on his shoulders. See also, Ramsay MacMullen, Romanization in the Time of Augustus (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 14. 64. Kamudzandu, ‘Abraham’, 82–3. See also, Suna Güven, ‘Displaying the Res Gestae’, 30–45. 65. Kamudzandu, Abraham, 44. 66. Kamudzandu writes, ‘As the apostle to the Gentiles, Paul’s concern is how Gentile peoples get into the lineage so they can stand before God as righteous, rather than as enemies and aliens. The question to be addressed revolves around Paul’s and the interlocutor’s concern with ancestors and lineages’ (Kamudzandu, Abraham, 46).

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Aeneas and Abraham are alike in that they are raised to superhuman stature and in effect canonized as subsuming and symbolizing a group’s national character and aspirations.’67 Paul takes that national character and broadens it out to include those he addresses. In the same chapter, David is also used to substantiate Paul’s claim regarding the extension of the family and kinship of the people of God. In 4.6-8 Paul quotes from Psalms 31.1-2, ‘So also David speaks of the blessedness of those to whom God reckons righteousness apart from works: ‘Blessed are those whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed is the one against whom the Lord will not reckon sin”.’ As Paul has already done in Chapter 1, where the prophets are linked with David in the genealogy of Jesus, he links David with Abraham. Faith goes beyond works of the law to cover sin and establish God’s righteousness. The conclusion Paul draws in 4.9 is important. Paul narrows the sense of ‘works’ to circumcision, the covenant mark of the people of Israel, and points to the fact that the righteousness that comes from faith was first realized prior to this sign. Paul’s identification and explanation of Abraham as the forefather of both Jews and Gentiles extends through the rest of Romans 4. The paradigmatic character of Abraham and the evidence from within the Torah give Paul ample material to draw the conclusion in 4.16 and 17 that Abraham is indeed the ‘father of all of us’ (ὅς ἐστιν πατὴρ πάντων ἡμῶν) and that Abraham was always intended to be the ‘father of many nations’ (Πατέρα πολλῶν ἐθνῶν τέθεικά σε). As Dunn points out, this is the third time that Paul has emphatically stated that Abraham was to be the father of ‘all’. The other references are in 4.1 and 4.11.68 Given the argument that Paul has just finished, and understanding the nuanced way Paul uses Abraham as an example of the incorporating nature of the faith (faithfulness) of Jesus, Paul’s use of the term σάρξ in 4.1 makes sense.69 Paul states his conclusion and then argues, by way of Genesis 15 and 17, the evidentiary support for that conclusion. Since God had proffered Abraham righteousness because of faith, prior to the law’s disclosure and prior to circumcision, Paul identifies him as a forefather according to the flesh for Jews and Gentiles alike. In this respect, Abraham is paradigmatic of everyone who has faith in God. It was subsequent to this moment that Abraham received circumcision. For Paul, the sequence of the events in time is determinative.

67. Kamudzandu, ‘Abraham’, 90. 68. Dunn, Romans, 1–8, p. 216. Jewett ties this use of πάντων to the other 19 times the term has occurred to this point in the letter. (Jewett, Romans, 330.) Krister Stendahl makes this same point. (See Stendahl, Paul.) 69. For a description of the difficulties associated with the word order and the term ‘flesh’ in v. 1, see Jewett, Romans, 307; Fitzmyer, 371–2; Dunn, Romans 1–8, 199.



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The advent of peace and representative figures After Abraham’s example as a common ancestor to both Jews and Gentiles, Paul uses a series of metaphors that support the argument encouraging Gentile believers to consider themselves legitimate members in the family of God. In 5.1-11, a number of elements that Paul will develop later are announced as inferences drawn from the argument thus far. The Spirit makes its appearance in verse 5 along with a ‘hope that does not put (us) to shame.’ Paul states that there is a new possibility of reconciliation with God. The idea that ‘we will be saved through (Christ) from the wrath of God’ (5.9) occupies a central place, rebutting the supposed inevitability of God’s wrath against the Gentiles from chapter 1. Paul only uses the wrath of God in 1 Thessalonians 1.10 as an argumentative piece. Paul uses the term ὄργη prominently in Romans. It occurs ten times in prominent places.70 With the notion of salvation from wrath also comes the idea of the new life that is extended in and through Jesus Christ (5.10). Evaluating Chapter 5 in its Roman Imperial context, and with an eye toward the argument that has just preceded it, a couple of details emerge that move Paul’s argument further. Within the opening verses of chapter 5, Paul draws his audience together by using the first common plural as the subject. ‘We’ have been ‘justified by faith’ and we ‘have peace with God’ (5.1.)71 ‘We have obtained access to this grace in which we stand’ and ‘we boast in the hope of sharing in the glory of God’ (5.2). This theme of unity continues through the rest of the paragraph where the peace announced in verse 1 concludes with reconciliation with God in verse 11. Paul uses ‘peace’, a key term in Imperial propaganda, to incorporate Jews and Gentiles within the same narrative scheme as Abraham, David, and Jesus.72 It is certainly true that the term ‘peace’ carries with it powerful religious connotations within Judaism.73 The term ‫שָׁלוֹם‬, because of its importance and frequency, becomes difficult to tie to a specific meaning. It can mean ‘peace,’ ‘well-being’, ‘health’, or even ‘satisfaction’.74 Any specifically Jewish understanding of ‘peace’ would be subsumed under the larger category of ‘peace’ from an Imperial point of view in Rome. The choice of εἰρήνη as the translation for ‫ שָׁלוֹם‬in the LXX reflects the Greek notions of ‘salvation’, ‘the absence of war’, and ‘rest’.75 In classical usage, ‘peace’ connotes ‘the absence of war’ or can stand for ‘the goddess “Peace”.’76 Certainly 70. Cf. Romans 1.18; 2.5, 8; 3.5; 4.15; 5.9; 9.22; 12.19; 13.4, 5. 71. Cf. Fitzmyer, Romans, 393; Dunn, Romans 1–8, 247; Jewett, Romans, 348. 72.  P. Jal, ‘“Pax civilis” – “Concordia”’, Revue des etudes latines 39 (1961): 210–31; Stefan Weinstock, Divus Julius (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), 267. 73.  Werner Foerster, ‘εἰρήνη, εἰρηνεύω, εἰρηνικός, εἰρηνοποιός, εἰρηνοποιέω’, (TDNT 2) pp. 400-19, 402. See also, LSJ, 490. This use of the term ‘peace’ is certainly attested in the papyri. See MM, 185–6. 74. Foerster, TDNT 2, 402. 75. Foerster TDNT 2, 406. 76.  LSJ, 490.

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Paul knows of the political implications of the term ‘peace’, but he chooses to emphasize the peace with God that impacts human relationships and the cosmos at large.77 Reconciliation with God through the representative actions of Jesus has brought about forgiveness, salvation, and an absence of wrath.78 Paul uses a key Imperial term with residents in the capital to refer to the reality of peace because of what God has done in and through Jesus, rather than because of what the Roman Empire has done in the extension of its rule. Peace for the world had been the claim of the Roman Empire. After Octavian had finally won the civil war with Antony, the Roman Senate quickly helped to represent the victor as a sacred figure who had achieved peace for the whole world.79 The principate and the designation of Octavian as Augustus by the Senate were the final pieces necessary to preserve the power of the nobility in Rome.80 Paul uses the themes of peace, gospel, faith, and righteousness and in so doing evokes an objection to the pervasive message of Imperial propaganda.81 Augustus was viewed as the saviour who had brought peace to the world out of the chaos of civil war.82 Paul uses the term ‘peace’ in ten strategic places in Romans, indicating that he seeks to rebut or at least provide an alternative to the message of peace that the Roman Empire had furnished.83 The theme of peace announced in 5.1 remains a key rejoinder to the Imperial ideology and theology of Rome and would have been familiar to every resident in the capital.84 Paul’s portrait of peace, however, is contrary to the expectations of a person who is encountering his message against the background of Imperial claims. Instead of producing military power, riches, and world domination, peace has resulted in a situation where present sufferings can turn into hope. This hope is guaranteed because of the experiential nature of the Holy Spirit that has been 77. Jewett, Romans, 349. See also, Andocides Pac. 33.2; Xenophon Hell. 3.4.6.7; Demosthenes Orat. 12.22.8; Polybius Hist. 21.41.8.1. 78. Fitzmyer, Romans, 395. 79. Neil Elliott, The Arrogance of Nations, 29. 80. Elliott, The Arrogance of Nations, 29. 81. Dieter Georgi, ‘God Turned Upside Down’, in Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society, ed. Richard Horsley (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1997), 148. 82. Georgi, ‘God Turned Upside Down’, 149. 83. Georgi, ‘God Turned Upside Down’, 150. 84. Georgi insightfully describes this political ideology: ‘The Pax Romana is based on the theory of an eternal Rome, whose foremost representatives are divine and immortal, as well as on the power of the Roman army and Roman money …. The Pax Christi is based on acceptance of human existence with all its limitations and mutual interdependence. Pax Christi means the freedom and the surrender of all privileges by everyone. This renunciation of privilege, according to Romans 5, is the true authority which moves and shapes the world.’ (Georgi, ‘God Turned Upside Down’, 154).



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poured into the hearts of Paul’s readers (Rom. 5.5). Paul states that the death of Christ brought peace, not military victory and conquest (Rom. 5.8). In addition to the Imperial notion of peace, Romans 5.1-11 makes good sense in the context of a Gentile audience. What law-abiding, covenant-keeping, Sabbath-observing Jew would engage in the kind of self-description that Paul uses in verses 6-11? When would they have been weak? When would Jews claim to be ungodly (v. 6)? When Paul uses the terms ἔτι ἁμαρτωλῶν ὄντων ἡμῶν (while we were yet sinners) in 5.8, in what sense would a Jew agree? Paul’s scope broadens out in 5.12-21 as he seeks to incorporate the whole of humanity within the argument that he makes. The ‘we’ of 5.1-11 transitions to ‘all’ and ‘many’ in 5.12-21. Abraham was used as a representative figure for the Roman readers; now Paul shifts to look at the representative figures of Adam and the ‘one man, Jesus Christ’ (5.15). Representative actions result in two different directions. For Adam, disobedience brought about sin, but the obedience of Jesus brings an abounding grace and eternal life (5.20, 21).85 Abounding grace excludes a situation where Sin can be allowed to live. In 5.12-21 Paul also introduces the malevolent power of Sin, slipping into the world and spreading death throughout the cosmos. Paul does not identify how, exactly, this happens. Paul’s language makes the prospect of Sin’s dominion seem inevitable. verse 14 indicates that death takes up the position of regent. Jewett states, ‘The crucial term βασιλεύω (‘be king, reign’) appears here for the first of five times in this passage with the sense of ‘dominion’ exercised by death as a cosmic power. The lack of parallels in Greek and biblical literature to the idea of death’s exercising kingly powers illustrates the distinctiveness of Paul’s view. In the Roman Imperial context in particular, this verb with its Latin equivalent regnere implies irresistible coercive power.’86 Paul has discussed Sin before in Romans. In 2.12, almost parenthetically and in the mouth of an interlocutor, Paul states, ‘All who have sinned apart from the law will also perish apart from the law, and all who have sinned under the law will be judged by the law.’ This sentence is fully in line with the logic of 5.12-21 where Sin results in the diffusion of death. Paul’s shift from ἁμαρτία and cognates to παράπτωμα in verses 15- 21 may simply relate to style as Paul moves between synonymous terms.87 While Paul referenced Sin before, it now appears as its own character in 5.12-14 with the specific actions that he described in 5.15-21. One attractive option regarding the shift in terminology centers on the assonance at the end of the words παράπτωμα, on one hand and χάρισμα, on the other. If this is the case, Paul has drawn attention to the specific nature of the ‘free gift’ (χάρισμα) and how it is so different from 85. Fitzmyer, Romans, 406. 86. Jewett, Romans, 377. 87. Dunn states, ‘Whether Paul intended them to bear a different meaning is unclear … it may be that Paul switched to παράπτωμα simply because it read more euphonistically with the other -μα compounds which predominate in the following verses’ (Dunn, Romans 1-8, 279). See also, Fitzmyer, Romans, 418; and Jewett, Romans, 379.

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what was deserved. This comes to the fore in verse 16 with two more terms ending in -μα: δώρημα and κατάκριμα. Certainly χάρισμα maintains the sense of ‘grace’ or ‘favour’ that relates it to its root term, χάρις.88 Once more, in Rome, where the term was used in official capacities, χάρισμα can be taken in an official context where the government had distributed benefits.89 Jewett reinforces this idea: ‘In the context of a letter to Rome this reference to the “grace-gift” has a significant political resonance, because in the words of the proconsul to the Asian League, “it is difficult to return for (Augustus’) many great benefactions thanks in equal measure.”’90 The Julio-Claudian dynasty rested on the notion that it was Augustus who was the true saviour and benefactor of the world. The seedbed, however, for Paul’s idea of dominions, comes from his apocalyptic background.91 Harrison notes that the entrance of Sin and death indicates ‘neither was present prior to Adam’s act. With the entrance of Sin and death upon the stage of human history, the reign of these two enslaving powers in the present evil age had commenced.’92 Paul’s language in Romans 5.12-21 would have run directly opposite to Imperial propaganda in that even though the Senate had divinized Emperors, they remained subject to Sin and death.93 Returning to Paul’s use of χάρισμα, ancient sources show that Paul would be competing with Imperial propaganda with his ascription of grace to Christ. The Priene inscription states: ‘Since Providence, which has divinely disposed our lives, having employed zeal and ardor, has arranged the most perfect (culmination) for life by producing Augustus, whom for the benefit of mankind she has filled with excellence, as if she had granted him as a saviour (σωτῆρα χαρισάμενη) for us and our descendants, (a saviour) who brought war to an end and set [all things] in peaceful order …’94 The Res Gestae illustrates how extensive the benefactions 88.  LSJ, 1978–9. 89. Jewett, Romans, 380. 90. Jewett, Romans, 379 nn.131, 132 both are attributed to James R.  Harrison, Paul’s Language of Grace, 228. 91. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities, 108. Harrison refers to 4 Ezra 4.29 and 8.31. 92. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities, 109. See also, Harrison, Paul’s Language of Grace, 230, Ben Witherington III, Paul’s Letter to the Romans: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), and Leander. E. Keck, Romans (Nashville: Abingdon, 2005). 93. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities, 110. Harrison further notes that, ‘Paul’s depiction of the reign of sin and death in the present evil age undermined the Imperial propaganda that (1) the recurrent saeculum would providentially enshrine the prosperity of Rome and her rulers; (2) the age of Saturn would find its renewal in the reign of Augustus and in the quinquennium of Nero, and (3) Augustus’ iconic victory at Actium had somehow established peace for the ages.’ 94. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities, 120. See V. Ehrenberg and A. H. M. Jones, eds., Documents Illustrating the Reigns of Augustus and Tiberius (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1955), Sec. 98b (Il. 32–41; Priene: 9bc).



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of Augustus were thought to be.95 Augustus had shown benefaction to the entire world. Those in the Empire viewed Tiberius and Claudius in the same way.96 It is instructive to read Nero’s own estimation of his beneficence: For you, men of Greece, it is an unexpected gift which, even though nothing from my generous nature is unhoped for, I grant to you, as great a gift as you would be unable to request … Would that Greece were still at its peak as I grant you this gift, in order that more people might enjoy this favour of mine. For this reason I blame the times for exhausting prematurely the size of my favour.97

The contrast that Paul draws between the dominion of Sin and death, on one hand, and the super-abounding grace of Christ, on the other, calls the legitimacy and potency of the Imperial administration directly into question. The Emperors themselves are subject to Sin and death (cf. Romans 1.18-32). Only the advent of Christ and his one-time act of righteousness (5.19) is sufficient to turn the tide and reverse the spread of death. Paul will work out the significance of these verses in chapter 8 where ‘life’ is characterized as ‘Spirit’. With the completion of chapter 5, however, Paul has created the possibility that his readers might draw an incorrect conclusion. Romans 5 concludes the argument that the Gentiles have been included among the people of God because of Jesus, even as the end of the chapter raises the question about Sin. If Sin has occasioned the ‘super-abounding’ grace-gift from God, would it not make sense, then, to allow Sin to abound in order to increase the measure and influence of grace? Beginning in Chapter 6 and extending through Chapter 8, Paul encounters what may be characterized as potential objections to his message of justification and full inclusion among the people of God for both Gentiles and Jews. As Paul thinks through the social location of the potential objections and their possible rebuttals, the Imperial and domestic contexts provide essential lenses through which to clarify Paul’s argument in these chapters.

95. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities, 121. 96. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities, 121. Harrison states, ‘In an inscription from Cys, a statue is dedicated to Claudius as “saviour and benefactor of all mankind.” Another inscription from Myra speaks of Tiberius as “imperator of land and sea, the benefactor and saviour of the whole world.”’ See also, D. C. Braund, Augustus to Nero: A Sourcebook on Roman History 31 bc–ad 68 (London and Sydney: Croom & Helm, 1985), Sec. 230. 97. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities, 123. Harrison cites W. Dittenberger (ed.), Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum (Libsiae: apud S. Hirzelium, 1915), 814 Il, 10–11, 17–19.

Chapter 5 R OM A N S 6 – 8 . 1 1 : P AU L ’ S H OU SE HO L D M E TA P HO R S

Romans 6: Co-burial and co-crucifixion: Slaves in Imperial context The first objection that Paul anticipates to his thesis concerning the equality of Jews and Gentile believers within the family of God is that the advent of grace extends the potential for Sin’s expansion. Paul uses the language of Rome’s slave constituency to provide the appropriate word-picture to answer this objection. The city of Rome had become dependent on its slave population to make things run smoothly.1 The Roman household was the social location where slavery was utilized.2 If the images of crucifixion and burial made the noble-born uncomfortable, they would have evoked a powerful response from Paul’s audience, many likely slaves themselves, who would have been interested to see how Paul transfers the terms of punishment and threat into terms of freedom.3

Co-burial and funerary arrangements Romans 6 offers a correction to any misunderstanding on the part of Paul’s audience.4 Drawing the contrast between Sin and grace in the starkest terms may inadvertently permit a member of Paul’s audience to think it might make sense to sin more so that grace might thoroughly abound. Paul responds with the strongly 1. This point is made by K. R. Bradley in Slaves and Masters in the Roman Empire: a Study in Social Control (Brussels: Latomus Revue D’Études Latines, 1984), 25. See also J. Albert Harrill’s ‘Paul and Slavery’, 575. 2.  William Westermann, The Slave Systems of Greek and Roman Antiquity (Philadelphia: The American Philosophical Society, 1955), 78. 3. George Ronald Watson and Andrew William Lintott, “Crucifixion,” in The Oxford Classical Dictionary, eds. Simon Hornblower and Antony Spawforth (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 411. 4. In regard to this shift and the nature of Paul’s argument, Jewett (following Stowers, A Rereading, 148–9) states, ‘The substantive, libertinistic question in v. 1b poses a false conclusion, arising from 5.20b, that grace abounds more than the increase of sin.’ (Jewett, Romans, 391).

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negative rejoinder, ‘μὴ γένοιτο!’5 This is the first of the anticipated objections that Paul attempts to defuse.6 This question was first posed in 3.5-8.7 The quasi-diatribal nature of the question gives rise to its possibility.8 Paul’s anticipated rebuttal for the possibility of living amid Sin begins with a reminder that the community that Paul is addressing has, in some way, died with Christ. The aorist, first-person plural verb, ἀπεθάνομεν, indicates that the issue has been settled for Paul. The question for Paul’s audience certainly must have been, ‘in what sense have we died?’ Paul resolves this when he announces that the death that occurs is a death in symbolic form. ‘All of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death.’ (Rom. 6.3). The act of baptism, the experience of being immersed in water, is an effectual equivalent for direct participation in the death of Christ. This results in a common participation in the burial and resurrection of Christ (6.4, 7) on the part of Paul’s audience. This death that results in resurrection effectively separates them from the old master – Sin. Paul’s use of the term ‘dominion’ in verse 9 recalls the fact that, in the Imperial context, no one could serve two masters.9 This is not the only context where ‘dominion’ was an issue. In the domestic context masters had slaves, and in 6.6 Paul overtly ushers slavery into the conversation. Slavery, supported by the Imperialistic expansion in the late Republic and early Empire, became a staple of the economic machine in Rome.10 Romans 6.1-11 develops the slavery image by using the συν- verbs to describe burial with Christ (6.4), dying with Christ (6.5), and crucifixion with Christ (6.6), which all bring about a new life in Christ Jesus (6.11). Paul brings the slavery metaphor to the front of the conversation, once more, in 6.16: ‘Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of Sin which leads to death, or of obedience which leads to righteousness?’ In one sentence Paul recalls the ideas of obedience, righteousness, and the image of the slave from the first chapter. For the remainder of Chapter 6 Paul describes a situation of ongoing slavery. The difference is in terms of who the master may be.11 Liberated from Sin, Paul gives his audience the option to be ‘enslaved to God’. 5. See Abraham Malherbe, ‘ΜΗ ΓΕΝΟΙΤΟ in the Diatribe and Paul’, HTR 73/1–2 (1980): 231–40. 6. This hypothesis may help explain why there are a constellation of terms represented in Chapters 6–8 that do not seem to fit a set pattern but rather fluctuate to match the different points that Paul is making. See, Dunn, Romans 1–8, 301. 7. Fitzmyer, Romans, 429; Campbell, ‘Romans III’, 251. 8. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 305. Dunn calls this a ‘modified diatribe style’. See also: Jewett, Romans, 395. 9. Jewett, Romans, 396. 10. Michael I. Finley, The Ancient Economy (Berkely: University of California Press, 1999), 72. 11. See also, Keith Hopkins, Death and Renewal (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983) where Hopkins discusses group burials in the first-century.



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The specific allusion to the practice of mass burial (buried-with; συνετάφημεν, συνθάπτω) would have been familiar to Paul’s audience, producing a high level of anxiety among the slaves and lower-born freedmen of Rome.12 Keith Hopkins remarks, ‘Most poor Romans left no memorial. Many of the urban poor in the late Republic had their corpses thrown unceremoniously into mass graves.’13 Slaves and poor, attempting to prevent their own interment in an anonymous or mass grave, joined burial clubs to ensure that they or their loved ones would be given a proper burial with all of the attendant funerary rites.14 Collective tombs gave slaves and the poor a chance to have their individual remains memorialized on an inscription.15 Paul coordinates the ritual of baptism with the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus in a way that would have resonated with his audience. Co-crucified: A slave’s punishment When Paul emphasizes ‘co-crucifixion’ with Christ, he is counting on his reader’s familiarity with and reaction to the practice. That Paul may have coined a term when he uses συνεσταυρώθη (συσταυρόω) indicates the importance of the idea that Paul is developing. Paul only uses the term in the passive, and it only occurs in the New Testament.16 As a punishment, crucifixion was only used for slaves or non-citizens.17 The contemptible form of punishment was attested in two first-century ad. inscriptions from Cumae and Puteoli where a contract is mentioned between the undertaker and the executioner.18 Cicero calls it the most 12. Moulton and Milligan note that the use here, and in Paul, is metaphorical. (MM, 607). See, too, BDAG, 971–72. Walter Grundmann’s article is in the ‘σὺν Χριστῷ. in Paul’, TDNT, 7, 784–94, 786. Grundmann and Jewett both refer to the article by E. Stommel, ‘“Begraben mit Christus” (Römer 6,4) und der Taufritus’, Römische Quartalschrift für christliche Altertumskunde und Kirchengeschichte 49 (1954): 6–8, 9–11. 13. Hopkins, Death and Renewal, 207. In a city the size of Rome, an epidemic could rapidly spread and ‘in such circumstances, cremation was too costly, because it consumed expensive fuel. Mass death involved mass burial …’ (Hopkins, Death and Renewal, 209.) Jewett remarks that prior to this particular usage of the term, it never appears in reference to baptism. If Paul has coined something new, Paul has a reference field for the term that he assumes his readers will understand. (Jewett, Romans, 398). 14. Hopkins, Death and Renewal, 213. 15. Hopkins, Death and Renewal, 216. 16.  BDAG, 978. The term is used in Mt. 27.44 and Mk 15.32, and Jn 19.32 in the gospels to refer to the thieves who are crucified with Jesus. In Paul, it has a ‘transcendent sense’, occurring here in 6.6 and Gal. 2.19. See also, Grundmann, TDNT 7, 786. 17. Watson and Lintott, ‘Crucifixion’, 411. See also, Martin Hengel, Crucifixion in the Ancient World and the Folly of the Message of the Cross (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977). 18. Watson and Lintott, ‘Crucifixion’, 411. LSJ, 1735, only notes NT references. BDAG, 978. Moulton and Milligan show no entry for the term συσταυρόω. The term σταυρόω, on the other hand, does appear. The use of the verbs seems almost completely related to

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painful, dreadful and ugly form of execution.19 The punishment was so severe and gruesome, writers chose not to allude to it.20 While there could be a variety of ways in which crucifixion was carried out, the brutality of the punishment was well known.21 Seneca describes the preference of suicide to crucifixion in graphic detail in Epistle 101 to Lucilius: ‘Can any man be found willing to be fastened to the accursed tree, long sickly, already deformed, swelling with ugly welts on shoulders and chest, and drawing the breath of life amid long drawn-out agony? He would have many excuses for dying even before mounting the cross.’22 Paul’s use of the term ‘co-crucified,’ obviously metaphorical, comes very close to the invitation of Jesus to ‘take up one’s cross.’ Paul emphasizes the anticipated martyrdom and self-denial that he extends to his audience in Rome.23 Paul dramatically undermines the Imperial strategy regarding extreme punishment by using the term ‘co-crucified’ positively. Even in its Latin usage, the terms all connote extreme torture and punishment, yet Paul has harnessed the term and has given it a positive meaning.24 When extreme forms of punishment and torture, used by the government for deterrence and terror, have their terms appropriated in positive ways, it is a metaphorical act of insurrection. Beyond the punishment itself, those who might receive this punishment bear upon Paul’s argument in Chapter 6. To receive the sentence of execution by crucifixion, one had to be without Roman citizenship and to be among the low class or slave class in the city.25 Martin Hengel notes this aspect in Plautus: The deceitful slave Chrysalus is afraid that when his master returns and finds out about his frauds he will certainly change his name: ‘facietque extemplo Crucisalum me ex Chrysalo’ (he will immediately change me from Chrysalus NT usage apart from Plutarch, Cicero, Josephus, and a few others. See Pierre Chantraine’s Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque. Histoire des mots (Paris: Klincksieck, 1968–77), 1064–5. 19. J. Schneider, ‘συσταυρόω’, TDNT, 7, 572–84, 573; Hengel, Crucifixion, 33. 20. Hengel, Crucifixion, 37. ‘It is certainly the case that the Roman world was largely unanimous that crucifixion was a horrific, disgusting business. There is therefore hardly any mention of it in inscriptions …’ 21. Hengel, Crucifixion, 25. Regarding the variety with which a crucifixion might be carried out, Hengel continues: ‘the form of execution could vary considerably: crucifixion was a punishment in which the caprice and sadism of the executioners were given full rein.’ 22. Hengel, Crucifixion, 30–1. 23. Schneider, TDNT 7, 579. 24.  OLD, 461, does point out a few references that are written at the same time as Paul but have no New Testament bearing. 25. Hengel, Crucifixion, 51. On the nature of crucifixion in connection with citizenship see Timothy Luckritz Marquis, ‘Crucifixion, state of emergency, and the proximate marginality of Christ’s kingship’, in Portraits of Jesus: Studies in Christology, ed. Susan E Myers (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 99–125.



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to Crucisalus, (Bacchidies 362), i.e. instead of a ‘gold-bearer’ he will be a ‘crossbearer’; that is, he will have to drag his cross to the place of execution. The slave must always reckon with this cruel death, and he counters this threat in part with grim ‘gallows-humour’.26

Gallows-humour from Plautus in the mouths of his slave-characters could not match the terror slaves must have felt. At any moment they might be forced to undergo the servile supplicium (slaves’ death). Slaves occupied a precarious position between their masters and the political authorities.27 Juvenal writes about just such a case: ‘Crucify that slave’, says the wife, ‘But what crime worthy of death has he committed?’ asks the husband. ‘Where are the witnesses? Who informed against him? Give him a hearing at least. No delay can be too long when a man’s life is at stake.’ ‘What a fool you are! Do you call a slave a man? Do you say he has done no wrong? This is my will and my command: take it as authority for the deed’.28

‘Co-crucifixion’, a term not found outside of the New Testament, would have resonated within the city of Rome and among the slaves and lower classes. The description of mass crucifixions was familiar to the population. The uprising of slaves was greeted with mass crucifixions both for Spartacus, as well as with the slaves who had supported Sextus Pompeius, but who had no masters.29 Josephus and Tacitus offer similar reports regarding Nero’s persecution of the Christians, but these are clearly later than Paul.30 They illustrate, however, the manner in which large groups of people were crucified together in an effort to strike fear into the hearts of those who might be tempted to follow an insurrectionist line. Tacitus describes just such a state of affairs that occurred during Nero’s reign in 61 ad.31 The city prefect, Pedanius Secundus was murdered by one of his slaves.32 Tacitus supposes that the murder occurred either because a bargain for the slave’s freedom had been broken or there was a mutual love interest that the master had blocked.33 In addition to the execution of the guilty slave, Tacitus records that the 26. Hengel, Crucifixion, 52, where the author suggests that dealing with the punishment of deceitful slaves would require an entire monograph. 27. Hengel, Crucifixion, 56. ‘The rigourous application of the servile supplicium was a consequence of the panic fear of slave rebellions, particularly in Italy, which was constantly fostered by the accumulation of large masses of slaves in the latifundia of Italy during the period of Roman “Imperialism” after the Second Punic War. It is all too understandable that this fear turned into hate.’ 28. Hengel, Crucifixion, 57–8. See Juvenal, 6.219. 29. Hengel, Crucifixion, 55–6. 30. See Josephus, BJ 5.449–51 and Tacitus, Ann., 15.44.4. 31. Tacitus, Ann., 14.39–46. 32. Tacitus, Ann., 14.42. 33. Tacitus, Ann., 14.42.

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ancient custom required that all 400 slaves in the house also be executed. Despite a speech in protest by Caius Cassus in the Senate and a violent uprising by a mob in Rome, Nero ordered soldiers to parade all of the slaves to their execution.34 The idea of ‘co-crucifixion’ would have been familiar to Paul’s Roman audience. Romans 6.6 ties the idea of the ‘co-crucifixion’ of believers with Christ to the idea that this death has been pivotal in ending the dominion of Sin. The final clause makes it clear that the human plight is the result of Sin’s power that exercised dominion over those who are outside of Christ’s saving work.35 Luise Schottroff connects Romans 6.6 and 7.24 to the Imperial use of slavery as a means of domination and terror. She observes that the reality and the metaphor of slavery concentrated on three distinct movements. These relationships between masters and slaves developed in the context of the household, in the context of the Empire and its relationship to subjugated peoples, and in the cosmic context of the world and its relationship to demons (divinities).36 Paul relates Sin’s complete domination of humanity to the reality of slavery.37 According to Schottroff, Paul discusses the human condition, enslavement to Sin, in ways that are reminiscent of the objection of historians such as Cremutius, Tacitus, Philo and even for Ezra to the Imperial authority of Rome. Schottroff states, ‘Much like Paul talks about Sin’s reign of terror, contemporary critics of the Roman Empire talk about life under the Imperial rule. The bottom line is this: We live in a global slavery and (under) the official ideology … The Pax Romana is a lie.’38 Paul’s language, its use, and the significance of the metaphor are all calculated to respond to the Imperial ideology. Manumission and the Household Paul has worded 6.1-11 to draw the reader’s attention to the quasi-equation between death, burial, baptism and new life. The ‘συν’ verbs at the beginning of Chapter 6 participate in bringing Paul to the crucial verb: συζήσομεν. Paul will revisit the nature of life and the way in which the Spirit brings new life in Chapter 8. For the moment, his use of this term is proof that the incorporation into the death and burial of Christ brings with it the emancipation from Sin. The slave, formerly sold under Sin, has been emancipated to new life. While Paul’s use of the future tense may be partly eschatological, it may refer to the current experience of believers that guarantees a certainty in the future.39 34. Tacitus, Ann., 14.43–46. The speech by Caius Cassus actually calls the murder of Pedanius Secundus justified on the basis of the idea that the promise of freedom had been broken. 35. Jewett, Romans, 404. 36. Schottroff, ‘Die Schreckensherrschaft der Sünde und die Befreiung durch Christus nach dem Römerbrief des Paulus’, Evangelische Theologie 39 (1979): 497–510, 499. 37. Schottroff, ‘Die Schreckensherrschaft’, 500. 38. Schottroff, ‘Die Schreckensherrschaft’, 503. 39. Jewett, Romans, 406. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 322.



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The manumission of slaves was curtailed during Augustus’ reign as a way to control the flow of freedmen into the political arena in Rome.40 A slave might be granted manumission by way of a magistrate’s order of citizenship (which then negated a slave’s status), by will or testament, or by purchasing their freedom.41 Slaves yearned for freedom. A fragment of a letter to a patron may be representative of such a sentiment: ‘But you know in your soul that I, desiring your affection, have conducted myself blamelessly just as a slave wishes to be conciliatory in the interest of his freedom.’42 Paul’s use of the slavery metaphor necessitates a counter-intuitive move where it is one’s own death (incorporated into the death of Christ in baptism) that brings freedom rather than the death of the master. Romans 6.12-23 emphasizes the slavery metaphor along with the agency of Sin’s rule/dominion.43 As Paul wrote from ancient Corinth, at least one-third of the population would have been enslaved or freed and the Paul’s audience in Rome is likely to be composed of slaves and freedmen.44 The predominant social location for slavery in the urban centers was the home.45 In the outlying areas, the large agricultural estate, the latifundia, or the villa was the social location for slavery.46 The domestic context in which a slave worked probably differed radically from the situation in which they lived. If slaves did not live with the family in the same domus, slaves would end up living with others in the lowest classes. As a result of frequent manumissions and unions between slaves and freed, lower class families and slave families might end up living together in a merged household.47 Although living conditions of slaves cannot be thoroughly investigated, the conditions of their working environments in the home can be described well enough. 40. M. I. Finley and Susan M. Treggiari, ‘Freedmen, Freedwomen’, OCD, 609. For a more detailed description of slavery and Augustus’ slavery legislation, see Keith Hopkins, Conquerors and Slaves (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), 133–71, and K. R. Bradley, Slaves and Masters in the Roman Empire: A Study in Social Control (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987). 41. Finley and Treggiari, ‘Freedmen, Freedwomen’, 609. 42. Westermann, Slave Systems, 106. 43. Βασιλευέτω, ὑπακούειν, (6.12); κυριεύσει (6.14); δούλους (6.16); among others. 44. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 341. See S. S. Bartchy, ΜΑΛΛΟΝ ΧΡΗΣΑΙ: First-Century Slavery and The Interpretation of 1 Corinthians 7.21 (SBLDS 11; Missoula: Scholars Press, 1973). In reference to the percentage of the slave population, see Géza Alföldy, The Social History of Rome (Totowa, NJ: Barnes and Noble Books, 1985). 45. Dale Martin, Slavery as Salvation: The Metaphor of Slavery in Pauline Christianity (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), 23. 46. K. R. Bradley, ‘Slavery’, OCD, 1416. 47. Martin, Slavery, 3. See Marleen Bordeau Flory Family and Familia: A Study of Social Relations in Slavery (Ann Arbor, University Microfilms International, 1983) and Beryl Rawson, The Family in Ancient Rome: New Perspectives (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1986).

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As Paul writes from Corinth, he is familiar with the domestic location, but this home was far different from a modern one.48 The Roman household and the slaves that helped to make it work were at the same time socially set and yet economically fluid. Status did not change for a slave unless freedom was purchased or granted.49 An owner gave a peculium to their slaves so they had the courtesy of doing business on their own in service of their owner. This provided a level of economic flexibility for the head of the household and the slave.50 The physical structure of the house itself, if anything like the houses in Pompeii, was open for company, business, family, or clients at almost any time.51 Romans 6.20-23 presents another shift in the way Paul talks about the problems of Sin and death. Paul has previously characterized slavery in negative terms. Verse 20 reiterates the plight. Being a slave to Sin leaves one entirely free regarding righteousness. Following the same logic, Paul continues to use terms associated with slavery and wages, balanced against the peculium a slave might garner. This ‘advantage’, in the NRSV, or ‘fruit’ (καρπὸν), can be viewed in a number of contexts that belong to the metaphorical picture Paul is drawing. The term can mean ‘product or outcome of something – in a physical sense,’ whether the fruit of a crop or tree or the child of a marriage or the offspring of two parents.52 In a spiritual sense, the term can mean ‘outcome, product’.53 The term can also denote an ‘advantage, gain, or profit.’54 Given the context that Paul has in view, the translation ‘fruit’ may be preferred since the agricultural context fits the slavery metaphor that Paul uses. Death is the payment that Sin makes for those who work toward the trespass. Romans 6.22 emphasizes freedom from Sin, but turns the metaphor around, since Paul suggests that the person freed in regard to Sin has now become enslaved to God. In verse 22 Paul uses the same term that he applies to himself in the very first verse of the letter: δοῦλος (δουλωθέντες). In this instance, the wage of enslavement to God is sanctification. Verse 23 brings this section to a close by contrasting the wages of Sin with the free gift of God. In the case of Sin, the outcome of enslavement is death. In the case of the free gift (benefaction) of God the outcome is eternal life ‘in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ 48. Garnsey and Saller, The Roman Empire, 127, 128. 49. Keith R. Bradley, Slavery and Society at Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 4. 50. Westermann, Slave Systems, 16. 51. Nicholas Purcell, ‘Houses, Italian’, OCD, 731–2. See also, A. Wallace-Hadrill, Houses and Society in Pompeii and Herculaneum (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1994). 52.  BDAG, 509–10; LSJ, 879; MM, 321; Friedrich Hauck, ‘καρπός, ἄκαρπος, καρποφορέω’, TDNT, 3, 614–16, 615. 53.  BDAG, 510 offers many examples in Paul including Gal. 5.22; Eph. 5.9; Phil. 1.11. Paul will talk about the ‘fruit’ of his collection for the Jerusalem church in Romans 15.28. 54.  BDAG, 510.



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The clinching metaphor and the accompanying agency that Paul uses to provide support of his claim for full inclusion of the Gentiles among the family of God is the Spirit of adoption in Chapter 8.1-17. Adoption within the family context is appropriate, but first Paul has to have a wedding and/or a funeral. In order to understand the gravity of Paul’s use of this metaphor in 8.12-17, Romans 7 must be re-evaluated.

Romans 7: A wedding, a funeral, and a desperate situation Paul structures Romans 7 in two main blocks, the second of which divides in verses 14–25 with a switch from the aorist to the present tense.55 In verses 1–6 the marriage metaphor shifts to an unexpected funeral. Paul uses this metaphor to describe the application of the Law to those whom the Law addresses in verses 7–25. Scholars disagree about the identity of the speaker in verses 7–25, the significance of the shift in tenses, the nature of the metaphor in verses 1–6, and the recognition of which Law is at issue.56 Reading Romans 7 from the point of view of Paul’s Roman audience shifts the emphasis in the interpretation away from the experiences of an archetypal Christian and places the emphasis on the Gentile God-fearer whom Paul envisions. In Romans 7, Paul advances claims that deal with Law, marriage, adultery, legal standing, identity, and the place of the Gentile God-fearer within the family of God under the terms of the Torah. These pieces would have been persuasive to a lower-class constituency in Rome. Paul’s language about the law in Romans Paul begins Romans 7 by explaining his reference to the Law in Romans 6.14. The Law has surfaced as an antagonist in strategic places. Abraham’s example shows God reckoned righteousness before God gave the Law and before Abraham received the covenant marker of circumcision. The conclusion at the beginning of chapter five presumes justification comes through faith in and through Jesus Christ rather than through works of the Law. The fact that the Law was not available prior to the advent of Sin meant that Sin was never ‘reckoned’ (5.13). When the Law 55. On the structure of Romans 7 the following commentators agree: Dunn, Romans 1–8, 358; Fitzmyer, Romans, 456; Jewett, Romans, 428; Moo, Romans, 409; Byrne, Romans, 208. Cranfield sets 7.1-6 off from 7.7-25 as a whole (Cranfield, Romans, 331, 340); Sanday and Headlam, Romans, 170, 176). 56. Byrne sees the ‘I’ as a figure ‘left to its own merely human resources.’ (Byrne, Romans, 230.) Moo identifies four possibilities for the ‘I’ (Moo, Romans, 425–31). Dunn connects the ‘I’ and the shift in tenses and links the two up eschatologically. The tension that is felt in the text is the same that affects the turning of the ages (Dunn Romans 1–8, 377). Dunn agrees with Wright, Moo, Fitzmyer, and Cranfield that the Law that Paul speaks of is not the Roman law nor is it a general principle (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 359).

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finally arrives, the result seems counter-intuitive. Rather than staving off Sin, trespasses actually multiply (5.20). Since those who have died with Christ are no longer ‘under Law’ (6.14), Sin no longer has dominion. Paul emphasizes that this does not mean that Sin should be permitted in an effort to increase grace (6.15). In Galatians, Paul characterized the Law in an aggressive and clearly pejorative way.57 Those who ‘rely on works of the Law are under a curse’ (3.10); no one will be justified by the Law (3.11); circumcision and un-circumcision do not count for anything (6.15).58 Paul nuances these statements in Romans. Paul gives a more balanced appraisal of the Law and answers specific objections that his rash statements in Galatians might have provoked. There are some advantages of Judaism (Rom. 3.1-8); the gospel’s purpose is not to overthrow the Law (Rom. 3.31); the Law is certainly not Sin (Rom 7.7); God has not rejected Israel (Rom. 11.1-28).59 All of these rejoinders point to the development of Paul’s thought regarding the Law as a category in the experience of Gentile God-fearers.60 This brief appraisal of how Paul has used the term Law within chapters 5–6 should highlight one central concern: Sin is the main antagonist. While generally present and maintaining a negative position in Paul’s argument, the Law is not the central concern of Chapters 5–6. Paul characterizes Sin as the nefarious foe in Chapters 5–6. In Chapter 6 Sin is viewed as an enslaving force (6.7). Beverly Gaventa remarks ‘Paul explicitly identifies Sin as humanity’s slaveholder in Romans 6, yet Sin’s enslaving power first comes into view in 3.9 as the culmination of the relentless depiction of human activity in 1.18–2.29.’61 In 3.9, where Paul first uses the term ἁμαρτία, the conclusion to the long recitation of humanity’s failure to pursue God rightly culminates with the idea that ‘all, both Jews and Greeks are under the power of Sin.’62 Although the word ‘power’ is not present in the text, it seems within Paul’s intention, when he uses the prepositional phrase ὑφ’ ἁμαρτίαν.63 Those who have participated in baptism have effectively participated in the death of Christ; this is what brings an end to Sin’s powerful dominion (6.1-9.) Sin’s wages will be paid out in a deadly way to those who have not participated in the death of Christ in baptism (6.23). Sin acts on the world stage with an accomplice, because death has come alongside of Sin, and the results have been staggering.64 57. John G. Gager, Reinventing Paul, 105–7. 58. Gager, Reinventing Paul, 105. 59. Gager, Reinventing Paul, 105–6. 60.  For continued discussion see Femi Adeyemi, ‘Paul’s “Positive” Statements about the Mosaic Law’, BSac 164 (January–March 2007): 49–58. Also, Brendan Byrne, ‘The Problem of nomos and the Relationship with Judaism in Romans’, CBQ, 62/2 (April 2000): 294–310. 61. Beverly Roberts Gaventa, ‘The Cosmic Power of Sin in Paul’s Letter to the Romans: Towards a Widescreen Edition’, Int 58/3 (July, 2004): 229–40, 232. 62.  NRSV, Romans 3.9. 63. Gaventa, ‘Cosmic Power’, 234. 64. Gaventa, ‘Cosmic Power’, 234 n.21, On the role of death, particularly in the larger context of Paul’s apocalyptic theology, see M. C. deBoer, ‘The Defeat of Death: Apocalyptic Eschatology in 1 Corinthians 15 and Romans 5’, JSNT 22 (Sheffield: JSNT Press, 1988).



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This is what makes the appearance of the Law in Chapter 7 a surprise. The Law, however, is the principle that differentiated between those who did and did not constitute the people of God. The Law points to the central identity markers of circumcision and dietary codes that keep Jews and Gentiles separated. The two-fold movement of the death of Christ and the resurrection of Christ point to a radical disjuncture in the application of the Law. The advent of the Holy Spirit calls into question the ultimate position of the Law for Gentile God-fearers. Dying to Sin and dying to the Law through Christ’s saving action and participation in baptism are central to Paul’s contention that a new identity as a child of God is possible for the Gentile believer. Romans 7.1- 6, a wedding and a funeral If we did not have the typical divisions between the chapters and verses, Paul’s argument would continue seamlessly from the end of Chapter 6 on through Chapter 7. While it might appear that Romans 7 is about the ‘Law’, it must be maintained that the chapter is oriented around the figures that the Law addresses.65 Verses 1–3 address a ‘wife’ in the context of a marriage. Paul directly addresses his readers in verses 4–6. The continuation of household language is meant to continue the evidentiary claims regarding the full inclusion of Gentile believers within the people of God.66 Paul may have in mind a situation where an ex-slave marries her former master.67 In this scenario, the wife may indeed be seeking to get out of a marriage relationship to a much older husband. The way that the relationship ends in Paul’s metaphor may be different from what Paul’s audience may have expected.68 Paul envisions a situation where the hypothetical death of the 65. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 358. Dunn puts the emphasis on an anticipated debate about the Law’s place in the overall debate but at this point, a reading that emphasizes the audience should be preferred. See, too, Fitzmyer Romans, 454–5. 66. This line of interpretation stands against those who do not see Romans 7.1-6 as playing a complimentary role. See John D. Earnshaw’s article, ‘Reconsidering Paul’s Marriage Analogy in Romans 7.1-4’, NTS 40 (1994), 68-88 and Pamela Thimmes, ‘“She Will Be Called an Adultress …”: Marriage and Adultery Analogies in Romans 7.1-4’, in Celebrating Romans: Template for Pauline Theology, Essays in Honor of Robert Jewett, ed. Sheila E. McGinn (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 190–203, 193. 67. Sarah Pomeroy has pointed out that slaves could not legally marry even though many enjoyed relationships akin to marriage; technically, they were not considered true marriages. (Sarah Pomeroy, Goddesses, Whores, Wives, and Slaves: Women in Classical Antiquity (New York: Schocken Books, 1975), 193). 68. Thimmes notices the difficulties associated both with past interpretations of this chapter as well as the unexpected stress Paul places on the female character in the analogy of Romans 7.1-6. Thimmes says, ‘For interpreters from John Chrysostom, to John Calvin, to contemporary scholars, Paul’s tortured or inept analogy has proven an exercise in close reading and creative interpretation. The majority of commentators read Paul’s analogy in

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husband is envisioned in 7.1-3, thus ending the legal obligation on the part of the wife. The key for the shift in verse 4 is in verse 3 where Paul says, ‘But if her husband dies she is free from that law …’ In Romans 7.1-3 it is the living partner who is free from the law but in 7.4-6 it is the one who has died that is free from the law. If the living wife obtains freedom from the law in verses 1-3, the one who dies obtains freedom from the law in 4–6. Since Paul clearly is suggesting his audience comprises the set of people who have received freedom from the law because of the death of Jesus, Paul identifies the wife in verses 1–3 with the one who dies in verses 4–6. Adultery and Augustan values Romans 7 begins with the extension of a household metaphor where Paul brings up marriage legislation as an appropriate context for the kind of liberation from the Law that he is advocating. Paul is dealing with the allegation of adultery and the implied risk that accompanies it. If a transfer of affections occurs within the context of a marriage relationship, the offending parties have committed adultery and are, therefore, no more than adulterers. This amounts to a loss of rights within the family of God. It certainly would have been the case in Rome, where adultery was regarded as scandalous behavior.69 In Rome, the scandal was more pointedly focused on the female.70 Paul’s use of the household image of adultery in Romans 7.1-6 would have resonated loudly against the background of Augustan marriage legislation, the widely published adultery scandal involving Emperor Claudius and his wife Messalina, and the prevalence of adultery in literary and theatric presentations; most notably the adultery mime. Seen in this light, Romans 7.1-6 makes better sense, and prepares the way for 7.7-25. Paul’s readership would have readily grasped the significance of Paul’s image of adultery in Romans 7.1-6.71 As part of the recovery of Roman values and out of a desire to buttress Rome against any weakness, Augustus began to react against the perception that self-indulgence in Rome’s love relationships would cause calamity. Augustus published a series of laws aimed at strengthening Rome’s family values. The lex Julia on adultery and de maritandis ordinibus concerning marriage in terms of a one-to-one correspondence: the Law dies just as the husband dies. These readings persist even though Paul never says the Law dies. Instead, Paul speaks about the husband’s death and the believer’s death through the body of Christ, but even here, there is no actual correspondence between dead husband and metaphorically dead believer’ (Thimmes, ‘She Will be Called an Adultress’, 192). 69. Adolf Berger, Barry Nicholas, and Susan M. Treggiari, ‘Adultery’, OCD, 14–15. 70. Berger, Nicholas, and Treggiari, ‘Adultery’, 15. 71. Jewett, Romans, 434, wonders as to the reason for Paul’s use of the marriage metaphor at this point. For him, it ‘remains unclear.’ Jewett says, ‘There is no doubt that Paul is using a marital metaphor to describe the relation between believers and Christ.’ Jewett does not elaborate on exactly why Paul might choose such a metaphor.



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classes, supplemented in ad 9 by the lex Papia-Poppaea, constituted the basis of Augustus’ marriage legislation.72 The results of this legislation were far-reaching and extremely cumbersome. Everyone between twenty-five and sixty, single, widowed, or divorced, were required to marry or remarry and were expected to have at least three children.73 Those who failed to carry out this legislation were subject to punishment. These included a ban from the theater and the inability to pass on an inheritance to a designate.74 Tiberius and Nero reduced the severity of the punishment among the higher born who had been found to be in breach of the laws.75 In addition, the practice of identifying and paying ‘informers’ regarding breaches, was curtailed.76 Every reader of Paul’s letter would have clearly understood the gravity of the situation that Paul is describing. Adultery on the grandest stage and the smaller stage During Paul’s ministry, the most prominent situation of adultery and the most salacious of episodes occurred right beneath the nose of Emperor Claudius. The indiscretions of his wife, Messalina, and the ways in which she flaunted her profligacy were well known to everyone, it seems, except Claudius.77 Messalina’s fall seemed so fantastical to Tacitus that he assured his readers of its verity.78 Messalina became infatuated with a certain C. Silius, a counsel delegate and a man reputed to be the most handsome in Rome. After Messalina forced him to divorce his wife they pursued an affair, completely in the open until Silius asked her to divorce the Emperor.79 Claudius’ entourage, perhaps hoping to save 72. Richard I. Frank, ‘Augustus’ Legislation on Marriage and Children’, California Studies in Classical Antiquity 8 (1975): 41–52, 44. 73. Frank, ‘Augustus’ Legislation’, 45. 74. Frank, ‘Augustus Legislation’, 45–7. 75. Frank, ‘Augustus’ Legislation’, 46. 76. Frank, ‘Augustus’ Legislation’, 46–7. 77.  Messalina’s story does not begin with any sense of foreboding. Barbara Levick states, ‘The birth of [Claudius’] son Ti. Claudius Caesar Germanicus, later Britannicus, followed Claudius’ accession by less than three weeks, on 12 February 41. No formal honours were granted her yet, but the birth gave Messallina immense influence: Britannicus was the hope of the dynasty. “Spes Augusta”, as coins of the year had it, to be held up for people and soldiers to see at games and reviews’ (Barbara Levick, Claudius (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1990), 55.) 78. Garrett G. Fagan, ‘Messalina’s Folly’, The Classical Quarterly, New Series, 52/2 (2002): 566–79, 566. 79. Fagan, ‘Messalina’s Folly’, 566. The source material for the story of Messalina can be found in Tacitus (Ann., 11.12, 26–38). Fagan also notes that, ‘Messalina’s death is also mentioned in Suet. Claud. 26.2, 29.3, 36.1; Dio 60 (61). 31.1–5; Sen. Octavia 257-69, Apocol. 11, 13; Jospeh. AJ 20.149; Juv Sat. 10.329–45; Aur. Vict. Caes. 4.12–13’ (Fagan, ‘Messalina’s Folly’, 566).

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the Emperor from any further indignity, engineered the execution of Messalina and Silius. Throughout the entire event, the Emperor himself remained quite still.80 The story of the adultery of Messalina, the ignorance of Claudius, and the eventual fall of Messalina and Silius were well known, even in their own time. In addition to the literary sources already mentioned, Fagan notes ‘the major thrust of Tacitus’ account is fully confirmed in other sources. What adds interest to this widely known display of adultery in Rome is the idea …, that, somehow, Silius and Messalina were attempting to overthrow Claudius.’81 Usually relegated to cases of treason, the senate officially voted to remove Messalina’s name from all public and private inscriptions upon her execution.82 The story of Messalina’s fall incorporates elements of adultery, death, plotting, and identity – all with the main character in the female role. In Paul’s world and the world of Paul’s audience, the fictional representations of adultery in literature and mime were also well known. Especially among the comics, the adultery mime was the most popular.83 Plautus’ Mercator and Amphitryo provide examples to show how familiar the adultery narratological framework had become.84 The essence of the plot is fairly straightforward. An absent husband returns to the adulterous wife, usually while the male paramour is present in the house. The paramour hides in a large vessel or chest and then the wife dupes the absent husband so that the tryst can unfold. The last stage of the mime is the disclosure where the paramour is discovered or escapes.85 The adultery mime reached the height of its popularity in Rome after it had been revived in Alexandria. It was in Rome that the adultery mime was most well received.86 Whether this was a reaction to the Augustan marriage laws or because of a more general liberalizing tendency in a populated capital, Paul’s use of the metaphor of adultery would have been familiar to his audience. The connection 80. Tacitus Ann. 11.12–14. 81. Fagan, ‘Messalina’s Folly’, 573. 82. Fagan, ‘Messalina’s Folly’, 572–73. Tac. Ann. 11.38.4–5. Levick, Claudius, 65. 83.  Susanna Moron Braund, ‘Marriage, Adultery, and Divorce in Roman Comic Drama’, in Satiric Advice on Women and Marriage: From Plautus to Chaucer, ed. Warren S. Smith (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005), 39–70, 40. R. W. Reynolds remarks, ‘Of all the themes treated by the mimes, perhaps the one that gave the most delight to their audiences throughout the centuries was that of adultery’ (R. W. Reynolds, ‘The Adultery Mime’, The Classical Quarterly, 40 (1946): 77–84, 77). 84.  Braund, ‘Marriage’, 44. See Gerald Bechtle, ‘The Adultery-Tales in the Ninth Book of Apuleius’ “Metamorphoses”’, Hermes 123 (1995): 106–16, 106. L. L. Welborn has described features of an adultery mime found in Oxyrhynchus in terms that reflect the absurd nature of the mimes and the story lines. See L. L. Welborn, Paul, the Fool of Christ: A Study of 1 Corinthians 1–4 in the Comic-Philosophic Tradition (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 43–5, 58, 64 n.117, 66, 70, and 135. 85. Reynolds, ‘The Adultery Mime’, 81. 86. Reynolds, ‘The Adultery Mime’, 77.



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with the household is obvious and the story line is well known. Paul has a twist on the tale, however, that would have surprised his audience. The readers are probably anticipating that Paul will say that the husband has finally died, freeing the female character up for a more fruitful suitor (7.4).87 If Paul’s understanding of this metaphor has a female low class/slave woman as the main character, the picture he draws is easier to understand. Female slaves who cohabitated with their masters may, indeed, have been manumitted to allow marriage, but they may not have enjoyed complete freedom. They were still under the power of the father of the house.88 That is not the way Paul sees this metaphor, and indeed, if Paul is developing the ongoing sense of identity for Gentile believers (not only a Jewish one) the Law cannot die. That is the case here. The readers/hearers could be a bit surprised when Paul announces that it is the woman who dies. The resurrection of Christ and a death, with and through Christ, brings about an entirely new set of circumstances for Gentile believers. Having been raised with Christ, the new possibility of vital fruitfulness has become a living reality. This new reality is the result of an apocalyptic moment.89 After a condemning crucifixion, there has been an impossible resurrection from the dead. Why doesn’t Paul kill off the Law to complete the metaphor in 7.1-6?90 There are two reasons. The first reason is that Sin did not die, but Jesus did. Sin and its wages have already been described in graphic detail in chapter 1 without the prospect of defeat or death. Sin’s dominion seems to continue for those outside of the realm of God’s grace. For those who have experienced the death and resurrection of Jesus, however, that dominion has ended through the faithfulness of Jesus. Paul keeps the framework of salvation intact with each metaphorical picture he draws in Chapters 5–8. Paul makes strict use of the two-fold event that evidences super-abounding grace. The death of Jesus and his resurrection are constitutive elements in the revelation of God’s plan (gospel). 87. On the fruitfulness of the relationship see Philip Esler, Conflict and Identity in Romans: The Social Setting of Paul’s Letter (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), 225. 88. Sarah Pomeroy makes this point as it intersects with the Augustan marriage laws. She states that, ‘many slaves attained manumission … [and] females were likely to be manumitted earlier than males for a number of reasons: consistent with the state’s policy of encouraging marriage, the law allowed a master to manumit a slave in order to marry her. Some masters will have manumitted and then married a woman with whom they were cohabiting so that their children would be free and legitimate. Marriage to women of slave or freed status was perfectly acceptable among the lower classes.’ (Goddesses, Pomeroy, 195). 89. Gaventa, ‘Cosmic Power’, 235–6. 90. Fitzmyer asks the question about which law Paul is referring to in this section (Fitzmyer, Romans, 455–6). Whether Paul uses νόμος to refer to a natural law, the Torah, or even Roman law, has been questioned. Both Jewish and Roman law had marriage legislation. Paul emphasizes the connection between life and death and the enforcement of the law (whichever it might be).

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The second reason why Paul cannot kill off the Law is because it is not dead. The Law is still working its effects among faithful Jews. Even unfaithful Jews (3.2) do not nullify the faithfulness of God. Paul does not imply that all Jews were faithless, even in his own time and context and he never declares the end of Judaism. He never declares the death of the Law. In fact, the Law is ‘good, just, and holy.’ The problem with the Law is that its effectiveness is limited to whomever it speaks (3.19). Gentile believers have only heard the Law speaking to them in penultimate ways. They may follow commands, they may admire moral standards, and they may endeavor to live lives that please God, but their own flesh and blood betrays them. Certainly there was a richness of grace and faith language at work in firstcentury Judaism.91 The problem was that no Gentile God-fearer could have had the notion of full inclusion and the potential for full obedience, given their status as Gentiles. Paul never completely nullifies the Law, but he does point out that something more powerful is at work. Jesus’ death on the cross, an ignominious, curse-ridden crucifixion resulted in something the Law itself could not and did not envision. Jesus was raised from the dead. Paul indicates that this opens the possibility of new life for everyone, the Jew first and also the Greek. The dispensation of the Holy Spirit confirms the possibility of new life because the ‘signs and wonders’ of the Spirit have not been achieved through the Law (15.19). The reason why Paul vehemently protests the tendency of the Judaizers in Galatians, and brings up the episode with Peter’s table fellowship, is because the Judaizers and Peter were acting as if circumcision and restrictive table fellowship were to be continually held up as identity markers for God’s people. For Paul, this was tantamount to blasphemy of the Holy Spirit.92 The resurrection of Jesus brings the anticipated Holy Spirit, and this apocalyptic pivot has turned the age. Grace comes from outside of the Law, and yet the Law is still effective. The arrival of the Holy Spirit has done both of these things because of the resurrection of Jesus. The Law cannot die, but something outside of the Law has come to qualify it. For Paul, it is not about the Law per se, as much as it is acting (or more precisely- believing) that the manifestation of the Spirit now requires obedience to the Law. The sequence of events is critical to Paul. The Law was first. The resurrection was second. The dispensation of God’s Spirit was third, and inaugurated a brand new scheme that God revealed to the world. These are the reasons why the Law cannot die and why the resurrection is so critical in building the argument to the point where the advent of the Spirit can be seen in all of its power. Essential for the success of his prospective mission and the success of the letter, Paul uses familiar domestic images to communicate the fundamental truth about the turn of the ages. Thus, Romans 7.1-6 is not a brief, difficult Pauline tangent, but makes complete sense as a continuation of household imagery that supports the claim that Paul’s 91. E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977). 92. In Mk 3, the details for this sin are laid out in terms of family and identity.



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Roman hearers should consider themselves legitimate members of the people of God. In fact, this is an essential step. The two-fold move identifying the audience with the wife and the death of the wife with the death of Jesus allows Paul to bring to the center of the argument the notion of identity and the peculiar identity mark that the Law provided among the Jews. The marriage metaphor is required because Paul is not writing a universal letter to be read by everyone. Here, the particular Gentile context that Paul has in mind is extremely valuable to the interpretation of Paul’s words.93 Adapting a marriage analogy to his argument, Paul must use the female role to continue to clarify his argument that Gentile believers have been brought into the family of God. In Rom 7.1-6 it is the role of the wife that is under discussion. It occupies a central place precisely because it is the wife whose identity would change as a result of her husband’s death and her subsequent re-marriage. She would move into another household, and her identity would shift. This is precisely the nuance that Paul is presenting. The only difference is that the wife’s death, accompanied by an unlikely resurrection, gives her an opportunity to change families. Having drawn his metaphor, Paul shifts the reference away from the ‘wife’ and focuses the reference onto his audience. ‘You were put to death to the Law in order that you belong to another’ (εἰς τὸ γενέσθαι ὑμᾶς ἑτέρῳ).94 Paul’s reasoning is clear. The death experienced by Paul’s audience as they have participated in the death of Christ has brought about a new identity. This is the language of family, kinship, and marriage.95 Stumbling upon the household metaphors of marriage and adultery, commentators focus on the Law while missing the point of identity that the Law was to enforce.96 Romans 7.7-25 and the plight of the gentile God-fearer Paul’s use of the rhetorical question at the beginning of 7.7 helps his readers understand that a shift in character is taking place to transition to the next part of the argument. The question critically important to the interpretation of the passage is: who is the ‘I’ who speaks in this chapter?97 93.  That is why it is also important to rule out the potential interpretation of 7.1-6 as an allegory (contra Sanday, Romans, 172, 174). 94. Cranfield, Romans 1–8, 336. 95. Fitzmyer, Romans, 458–59; Dunn, Romans 1–8, 365, interprets the passage eschatologically, even though the metaphor that Paul uses seems quite settled, note the aorist passive of the verb (κατηργήθημεν). 96. Articulating this argument fully would require its own monograph. The Law becomes the focal point here because of the way Romans has been read, not necessarily because of Paul’s emphasis. It is clear from the letter itself that Paul cannot envision a reality where the Law simply vanishes. 97. Fitzmyer offers five possibilities that others have identified: 1. Paul (autobiographically); 2. A young Jewish boy about to pass from adolescence into adulthood (psychologically); 3. Adam; 4. A Christian (as in Paul’s experience as a Christian); 5. As

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Options available to the interpreter tend to swing between two poles. Many view the ‘I’ of the passage as either a ‘godly’ or an ‘ungodly’ person, but a third option never seems to present itself.98 It is not a personal conscience, twisting between guilt and forgiveness at the center of the text but the supremely malevolent character of Sin that is the issue.99 Sin is the culprit and the deceiver. The Law is powerless against it, even though it should have been strong. Sin thwarts the recognition of identity within the people of God for those who are trying to be included on the basis of Law keeping. This implies that the discussion in 7.7-25 has something to do with identity. If the Law in the hands of Sin produces death, then who might Paul have in mind? Other than in Chapter 1.18-32, Paul has not engaged in a discussion about the ungodly and godly. Paul has, on the other hand, discussed the relationship between Jews and Gentiles. Taken with the preceding section, the person Paul envisioned might be a disappointed wife, looking forward to the end of the marriage. Paul’s use of παλαιότητι in verse 6 would contribute to that idea. Paul has used the term in 6.6 to describe just this sort of person.100 It could apply to the old age of things in contrast to the new, it could apply to the old code as opposed to the new, but it could also apply to an old husband or an old relationship as opposed to the new. Connecting Paul’s speech in character with the play Medea, Stanley Stowers understands the person speaking to be a Gentile God-fearer who laments his or her situation as a hopeless case.101 The plight of Medea and the resulting tragedy ‘every person’, i.e. in a ‘cosmic-historical dimension.’ (Fitzmyer, Romans, 463–4.) Fitzmyer sees the ‘I’ as a ‘Qumran sectarian (who) is convinced that he finds salvation in the Torah, whereas Paul insists that the Christian finds salvation in grace through faith in Christ Jesus.’ (Fitzmyer, Romans, 466.) 98. Paul W. Meyer, ‘The Worm at the Core of the Apple: Exegetical Reflections on Romans 7’, in The Conversation Continues: Studies in Paul & John in Honor of J. Louis Martyn, eds. J. Louis Martyn, Robert Tomson Fortna and Beverly Roberts Gaventa (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1990) 62–84, 68. 99. Meyer states, ‘Paul is not talking about the conflict between the rational and the irrational in the human self, nor about two selves at different levels as though one were under the power of sin and the other not … but two aspects of the same self that is “sold under sin.”’ (Meyer, ‘The Worm’, 76). See Gaventa, ‘Cosmic Power’, 235. 100. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 318. 101. Stowers, A Rereading, 260. Stowers comments on this: ‘The text remembered as the starting point for this tradition is Euripides’ Medea 1077–80: ‘I am being overcome by evils. I know that what I am about to do is evil but passion is stronger than my reasoned reflection and this is the cause of the worst evils for humans’. These words of Euripides’ Medea became the classic text for the long and varied ancient discussion of akrasia, lack of self-mastery. It represents what can be described as the tragic position in literary depictions and philosophical discussion of “the will”, or self-mastery in moral psychology. The tragic tradition emphasizes that the good of the human life is vulnerable to luck, conflict of values, and the passions as structures of perception that allow humans to be deeply affected by situations and powers they do not control.’



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becomes a well-traveled theme in Stoic philosophy. Stowers notes the words of Medea’s inner plight: Oh wretched one, drive out these flames that you feel from your maiden breast if you can. If I could, I would be more reasonable. But some strange power holds me back against my will. Desire impels me one way, my mind another. I see what is better and approve it, but I follow the worse. Why do you, a royal maiden, burn for a stranger, and think about marriage in a foreign world?102

The quote from Rom 7.15 and 19 seems to come from the play and would have been understood by the ancient Roman audience: ‘I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.’ The person speaking in Romans 7.7-25 is not a Jew under Torah or a frustrated Jewish believer, bound by the Law.103 The person speaking here is a Gentile God-fearer who, having looked at the technicalities of the Law, having obeyed the Law (perhaps in numerous ways), has now concluded that despite all efforts, Gentile flesh still remains outside the parameters or the reach of God’s salvation. No matter how much one obeys or disobeys and no matter how vexed a conscience one has, Paul’s readers are still asking, ‘What does it matter, Paul? As you have already pointed out in Chapter 1, we are still in a place of hopelessness and Sin because of our very nature as Gentiles!’ For Gentiles, the Law could only go so far. As those who saw themselves outside the χάρις of the covenant, Gentiles might admire the Law, seek to do many of its requirements, and perhaps they even decided to proceed with circumcision. But did such Gentiles feel themselves to be full members of the covenant people? Even Herod the Great could not measure up.104 When viewed against the backdrop of a fresh discharge from the Law (7.6), Romans 7.25 is disconcerting. Notice that Paul intends to draw a conclusion to his argument, when the God-fearer says, ‘So, then, with my mind I am a slave to the Law of God, but with my flesh I am a slave to the Law of Sin.’ The argument between 7.6 and 7.25 prepares Paul’s readers for this conclusion. Paul assumes 102. Stowers, A Rereading, 263. Meyer notes the same allusion but does not lend it any significance: ‘Again, it was Bultmann who clearly saw that the seemingly impressive parallels to Paul’s language that can be found in Greek and Latin literature really have little to do with the purpose his words serve in the present argument’ (Meyer, ‘The Worm’, 76). 103. N. T. Wright attributes the ‘I’ to a follower of Torah, prior to an exposure to the gospel. Wright sees two main themes running across Chapter 7. The Adam-Christ story and the story of the Exodus are controlling for the narrative. Wright correctly dismisses all ‘psychologizing tendencies’ and takes Paul’s own claim to be ‘blameless, concerning the Law’ from Phil. 3, seriously. Unfortunately, while these allusions are present in some degree, they simply do not account for the fact that the Law still seems to be valued at the end of verse 25. This interpretation also cannot accommodate Chapters 9–11 with conviction. (Wright, ‘Romans’, NIB, 552). 104. Josephus, Ant. 14.469-81.

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that his readers would have been fully comfortable with his progression from ‘thanks be to God …’ to this inference about the Law of God and the Law of Sin as enunciated by his God-fearing representative. While there are many interpreters who fail to appreciate the crucial nature of 7.7-25 in the context of Paul’s argument, Dunn notes that the materials, set up in parallel blocks, are intended to be an apology for the Law, and are essential to the argument.105 For Paul, the first step in 7.7-12 is to have the God-fearer think through the difference between the Law and Sin. This is not easy to sort out. Paul’s intention in using the speech-in-character is to provide a defense for the Law, at least at the beginning.106 The Law is not Sin, nor is it sinful (7.7), but it does something that was unforeseen. The Law’s purpose, says the God-fearer, is to bring full recognition of sin. The way in which Paul goes from ἔγνων to ᾔδειν in verse 7 emphasizes how the Law brings awareness of Sin’s breach. Without the Law, there is no recognition of a transgression.107 Paul chooses the representative sin: oὐκ ἐπιθυμήσεις. The meaning of the text is clear: Do not covet or do not desire. ‘Desire’ here is to not to be taken in a positive sense. The God-fearer that Paul envisions understands the Mosaic Law and chooses Exodus 20.17.108 This knowledge was known to others as well, where giving free-reign to desires was something less than desirable.109 ‘Desire’ becomes associated with anything that is ‘impulsive, passionate, [or that] which withstands renunciation and obedience for the sake of God … The view is reached that desire is the chief of all sins.’110 Referring to Exodus 20.17, Paul evokes a commonly held view of the Gentiles. Gentiles were seen as those who were unable to hold their own desires in check. According to Epicurean philosophy, the proliferation of desires became identified with the flesh, a point also emphasized by the Stoics.111 As one of the four chief passions that are meant to be subdued, Stoicism and Judaism considered desire to be evil.112 105. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 397. 106. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 377. Fitzmyer, Romans, 463, notes that Lagrange, Lyonnet, Bornkamm, and Käsemann all agree to the apologetic nature of Paul’s argument for the Law but he notes, ‘But the power of sin is emphasized even more, especially in vv. 14–25, where Torah recedes and the focus is on anthropology.’ 107. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 379; Käsemann, Romans, 193; Jewett, Romans, 446–7. 108. Jewett, Romans, 447. 109. Friedrich Büchsel, ‘θύμος, ἐπιθυμία κτλ.’ TDNT 3, 169–72, 169. 110. Büchsel, TDNT 3, 169. 111. Instead of the ‘sense of pleasure’ ἡδονή can sometimes denote the ‘desire’ for it, e.g. Xenoph. Mem., I, 2, 23. In this group we should reckon instances in which it is par to ἐπιθυμία and thus denotes ‘passionate yearning’, as in the Stoics (Diog. L., VII, 110) and Philo (Migr. Abr., 60) or in which it is equivalent to ‘desire’, as in Philo Spec. Leg., III, 8. (Gustav Stählin, ‘Ηδονη, φιλήδονος’, TDNT 2, 909–26, 910; and Eduard Schweizer, ‘σάρξ, σαρκικός, σάρκινος’, TDNT 7, 98–151, 119). 112. Jewett, Romans, 448 n.68 cites Zeno’s list from Diogenes Laertius Vitae philos. 7.110 in support. Cf. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 379; pace Käsemann, Romans, 194.



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From the point of view of the God-fearing Gentile, Romans 7.8-12 has new meaning. The term ἀφόρμην would have been understood, and the metaphor fits its referent. Sin establishes a ‘base of operations’ in order to spread ‘desires’ everywhere.113 Sin has used the Law to achieve its own purposes.114 Sin seizes the opportunity (Rom 7.8, 11) to produce all kinds of covetousness (πᾶσαν ἐπιθυμίαν) that results in the revival of Sin and the death of the ‘I’. No Jew would admit that Sin could be dead apart from the Law, and no Jewish male could have conceived of a time when the Law was absent.115 Paul indicates as much in 2.12-16, where Sin exercises power even where there is no Law.116 The God-fearer, however, can remember such a time, or can see it on display in the lives of his or her neighbours. Actions that might be abhorrent to a law-abiding Jew might become routine for a lawless Gentile. Romans 7.9-10 brings the ‘I’ of the passage into the discussion. Cranfield offers no less than six possibilities for construing Paul’s rhetorical use of ἐγώ.117 Following Stowers, I understand the ‘I’ to be a Gentile God-fearer who realizes that the Law, no matter how scrupulously followed, would never be able bring about a complete change in identity.118 The experience of this God-fearer, especially within a mixed group of Jews and Gentiles, would be an experience of not measuring up. The desperation of the situation is marked by the fact that when the commandment came, Sin not only revived, it caused death (7.11).119 This is strengthened at the end of verse 12, where the speaker says that Sin, seizing its opportunity, ‘killed me’ (με καὶ δι’ αὐτῆς ἀπέκτεινεν). For the Jew, the opposite is the case. The intention of the Law is to produce life, and the speaker admits as much at the end of the paragraph. Indeed, the Law is holy, just, and good. The problem is that it only goes so far. By taking the holy, just, and good Law and using it to kill, Sin becomes even more sinful (7.13).120 Romans 7.14 displays the first person common verb ‘we know,’ in the present 113. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 380. See Gaventa, ‘Cosmic Power’, 232, where Gaventa states that Sin not only looks for an ‘opportunity’, but something much stronger – a military base of operations. 114. Fitzmyer, Romans, 467. 115. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 382. 116. Jewett, Romans, 446. 117. Cranfield, Romans, 342. ‘(i) that the passage is strictly autobiographical; (ii) that Paul is using the first person singular to depict the experience of the typical Jewish individual; (iii) that he is speaking in the name of Adam; (iv) that he is presenting the experience of the Jewish people as a whole; (v) that Paul is using the first person singular in a generalizing way without intending a specific reference to any particular individual or clearly defined group, in order to depict vividly the situation of man in the absence of the Law and in its presence.’ 118. Jewett, Romans, 351. 119. Fitzmyer, Romans, 468. 120. Jewett, Romans, 460; ‘… the thought that “sin” achieves the epitome of sinfulness in its twisting of the “commandment” into a vehicle of gaining honor is uniquely Pauline.’

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tense. The next piece details the opinion of the speaker about the Law. It is spiritual in nature. The speaker, by contrast, is ‘fleshly’. These thoughts are paralleled in verse 18, but the number changes from plural to singular. Now the God-fearer speaks for himself. He begins by saying that he knows that nothing good dwells in him, that is, his flesh. The NRSV handles this with, ‘For I know nothing good dwells in me, that is my flesh, for I can will what is right, but I cannot do it.’ With the transposition of ‘good’, the NRSV misses the way that Paul holds back the ‘good’ until the very end of the sentence for emphasis. While it is possible to see 7.7-13 as a Jewish speaker, the text makes more sense when understood as the confession of a Gentile God-fearer seeking to understand where hope can be found in a Law that cannot undo the fundamental Gentile nature. Romans 7.14-25 offers a parallel statement to 7.7-13, with one major exception. In Romans 7.7-13, Sin was still exterior to the speaker. In verses 14–25, however, Sin moves in. Revisiting the slavery image that was first used in Chapter 6, the speaker emphasizes the dichotomy that exists between the spiritual Law (νόμος πνευματικός) and the fleshly ‘I’ (ἐγώ δὲ σάρκινός εἰμι).121 The desperate allusion to Medea in verse 19 emphasizes the way that Sin has thoroughly indwelt the speaker (v. 18 also v. 8). Romans 7.14 recalls the slavery metaphor that Paul has advanced. Even though the Law is spiritual, the ἐγώ has been sold into slavery under Sin (πεπραμένος ὑπὸ τὴν ἁμαρτίαν.)122 It is not the nature of the Law that comes under fire. The Law is still considered ‘spiritual’.123 It is what happens when Sin gets hold of the Law that poses a significant threat. The ‘I’, however, is described as σάρκινος. The full effect of the contrast between ‘spiritual’ and ‘fleshly’ depends on an accurate reading of the verse, with an appreciation for the kind of argument Paul continues to advance. The person sold under Sin is the person who has realized that his or her own ‘flesh and blood’ cannot be refashioned. Verses 15–16 demonstrate the desperation of the moment when a situation of slavery becomes entrapped within an inescapable circle. That which is desired is inaccessible and the Sin that results seems to be unavoidable. The reason the 121. At this point, Cranfield offers seven possibilities for the speaker in verses 14–25: ‘(i) that it is autobiographical, the reference being to Paul’s present experience as a Christian; (ii) that it is autobiographical, the reference being to his past experience (before his conversion) as seen by him at the time referred to; (iii) that it is autobiographical, the reference being to his pre-conversion past but as seen by him now in the light of his Christian faith; (iv) that it presents the experience of the non-Christian Jew, as seen by himself; (v) that it presents the experience of the non-Christian Jew, as seen through Christian eyes; (vi) that it presents the experience of the Christian who is living at a level of the Christian life which can be left behind, who is still trying to fight the battle in his own strength; (vii) that it presents the experience of Christians generally, including the very best and most mature’ (Cranfield, Romans, 344). 122. Jewett, Romans, 461. Jewett notes that this is a unique expression in all of Greek literature, as well. 123. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 387.



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Gentile God-fearer can continue with the description of the situation comes to expression in verses 17 and 18, where the indwelling power of Sin is balanced against the completely overrun flesh. Paul states, ‘For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh (οἶδα γὰρ ὅτι οὐκ οἰκεῖ ἐν ἐμοί, τοῦτ’ ἔστιν ἐν τῇ σαρκί μου, ἀγαθόν.)’ Sin’s power is inescapable in verses 19–20 because it has thoroughly indwelt the Gentile. The occupying force of Sin is at war (ἀντιστρατευόμενον) with the speaker. The first instance of ‘Law’ in verse 22 clearly denotes the Law of God, but the second use is better understood as a ‘principle’ that has been learned and that has taken over. If Paul had intended that this speech-in-character be Jewish in orientation, there is no doubt that he would have had to specifically indict Torah, pointing out its insufficiencies. Instead, verse 25 shows that the Law of God remains something to be sought after, even though for one in the Gentile flesh, it remains an impossible possibility. Gentile flesh waits for the hope that is offered in the implied victory of Jesus described in 7.25a. What kind of flesh does the God-fearer have? Gentile flesh. The family of the Gentile has the kind of flesh that lies fundamentally outside the chosen people of God. The vice list of 1.18-32 is a ringing indictment of Gentile sin. This inescapable dimension of human nature proves to be too much for the will to overcome on its own. Sin takes over and takes up residence (7.20). Despite the impression otherwise, Paul is not attempting to exonerate the Torah, but to emphasize the fundamental problem of Sin.124 Paul does not moralize the flesh. Sin has been the culprit from the beginning. Gentile flesh simply remains what it is. It may seem as if Paul departs from the social location of the household when he introduces the Spirit in Romans 8, but that is not the case. It only seems like a departure. Paul’s original Roman audience, already looking at Paul’s understanding of God’s justice through the lens of Jesus’ faithfulness, would pick up on a nuance in Paul’s use of family images with the introduction of the Spirit. This is because every person who was reading or having this letter read to them would understand the way Paul uses ‘spirit’, over and against slavery and flesh, as he clinches the argument with 8.14-15, when he says, ‘but you did not receive a spirit of slavery falling back into Sin, but you have received a spirit of adoption whereby we cry out, “Abba, Father!”’ Paul resumes teaching in chapter 8 with his own voice. The strong inference that is drawn makes it clear that for the ones ‘in Christ Jesus’ (τοῖς ἐν Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ), there is no more judgement or condemnation. Paul returns to the discussion that evokes the sense of apocalyptic turning that has occurred with the revelation of the gospel. Once more, without an appreciation for and recognition of the Law’s place here, the statement in verse 2 is hard to figure. Why does Paul use the term 124. Wright, ‘Romans’, NIB, 568. How can Paul be both ‘exonerating’ Torah and, at the same time, pointing out that it has ‘exacerbated’ a desperate situation? This shows how viewing the ‘I’ as a frustrated follower of Torah comes up short. The advantage of this interpretation is that it indeed recognizes the positive value that is ascribed to Judaism on the part of Paul.

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‘Law’ at all? The Law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has manumitted those who are ‘in’ Christ Jesus in a way that must be different from all other ways. One Law works freedom from another. At this point in the argument, as Paul’s voice takes the place of that of the Gentile God-fearer, the tenor of Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ shifts, too. It still retains its sense of physicality, but now Paul uses the term as a way of talking about the age of the flesh– the age that is limited, physical, and powerless, apart from the empowering presence of the Spirit. Now the flesh and the Spirit apply equally to Jew and Gentile.

Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ in Romans In Romans 7–8, Paul contrasts the flesh with the Spirit. Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ in Romans reflects a designation in the Septuagint for kinship and family. Many studies of the term σάρξ in Hellenism and Judaism relate its primary reference to anything material or physical in nature.125 The term ‘flesh’ has also been investigated in regard to its usage in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Second Temple Judaism.126 The reference of σάρξ to living and non-living things extends metaphorically to anything that decays or to the seat of affections and lusts.127 125.  Robert Jewett, Paul’s Anthropological Terms: A Study of their use in Conflict Settings (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1971), 51. Jewett lists the following among early contributors to the study of the term ‘flesh’: A. Tholuck, ‘Erneute Untersuchung über σάρξ als Quelle der Sünde’, Theologische Studien und Kritiken 28 (1855); F. C. Baur, Vorlesungen über neutestamentliche Theologie (Leipzig: Fues’s (L. W. Reisland), 1864); H. H. Wendt, Johannes Gloël, and Hermann Gunkel, Die Begriffe Fleisch und Geist im Biblischen Sprachgebrauch untersucht (Gotha: Friedr. Andr. Perthes, 1878); O. Pfleiderer, Das Paulinismus: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der urchristlichen Theologie (Leipzig: O. R. Reisland, 1890), and Hermann Lüdemann, Die Anthropologie des Apostels Paulus und ihre Stellung innerhalb seiner Heilslehre nach den vier Hauptbriefen (Kiel: Universitäts–Buchhandlung (Paul Toeche), 1872). For a discussion regarding the contrast between the ‘flesh’ and ‘spirit’ in Gnosticism see Wilhelm Bousset, Kyrios Christos: A History of the Belief in Christ from the Beginnings of Christianity to Irenaeus (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1970); Richard Reitzenstein, Hellenistic Mystery-Religions: Their Basic Ideas and Significance (Pittsburgh: Pickwick Press, 1978). 126.  John A. T. Robinson, The Body: A Study in Pauline Theology (London: SCM, 1952); W. D. Davies, Paul and Rabbinic Judaism: Some Rabbinic Elements in Pauline Theology (Philadelphia, Pa: Fortress Press, 1980); David Stacey, The Pauline View of Man in Relation to Its Judaic and Hellenistic Background (London: Macmillan, 1956) and Roland Murphy, ‘BSR in the Qumran Literature and SARKS in the Epistle to the Romans’, Bibliotheca Ephremeridum theologicarum Lovaniensium 12–13, (Librarie Lecoffre, 1959), 61–2. See also, Alexander Sand, Der Begriff Fleisch in den paulinischen Hauptbriefen (Regensburg: Pustet, 1967) and Walter Schmithals, Die theologische Anthropologie des Paulus: Auslegung von Röm 7,17–8,39 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1980). 127.  LSJ, 1585, BDAG, 914–16 and Eduard Schweizer, ‘σάρξ’, TDNT, 7, 99.



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Investigating the term ‘flesh’ in the Hebrew Scriptures, Burton observes several uses. First, Burton notes that ‫ בָּשָׂר‬can mean ‘the soft, muscular portions of a body living or once living (cf. Job 2.5, Isa. 22.13, etc.).’128 The second use of the term ‘flesh’ is transferred to the sense of a body as in 1 Kings 21.27 and Proverbs 13.30. Thirdly, referring to a body, ‘flesh’ can be used to describe a ‘corporeal living creature.’129 The Septuagint uses σάρξ to describe a specific family line.130 This use of the term is important for understanding Paul’s use of σάρξ in Romans. Genesis 29.14 illustrates the way the term indicates a direct family relationship between Laban and Jacob: ‘and Laban said to him, “Surely you are my bone and my flesh!” [LXX: Ἐκ τῶν ὀστῶν μου καὶ ἐκ τῆς σαρκός μου εἶ σύ.] And he stayed with him a month.’ Other examples include Genesis 37.27; Leviticus 18.6; 25.48, 49; Judges 9.2; 2 Samuel 9.2; 19.13-14; 1 Chronicles 11.1; Isaiah 9.20 (LXX 9.19).131 In the Septuagint, σὰρξ can refer to the lines of descent, family, and kinship. Paul uses ‘flesh’, like ‘Spirit’, in terms of eons, ages, or spheres of influence that are governed by the earthly or physical reality without connection to the divine.132 The ways in which Paul uses the term, however, defy neat categorization. Paul constantly provides theological qualification for his use of the term ‘flesh’.133 In general, Paul uses the term ‘flesh’ to speak of solidarity with the physical world, or to describe a worldly power or sphere of influence.134 Paul views the flesh as a weak, corporeal substance that is related to the current 128. Burton, Spirit, Soul, and Flesh, 68. 129. Burton, Spirit, Soul, and Flesh, 70. 130. Burton, Spirit, Soul, and Flesh, 70. 131. Other examples are: Gen. 37.27, ‘Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, and not lay our hands on him, for he is our brother, our own flesh [LXX: σὰρξ ἡμῶν ἐστιν]. And his brothers agreed.’ Lev. 18.6, ‘None of you shall approach anyone near of kin [LXX: πρὸς πάντα οἰκεῖα σαρκὸς αὐτοῦ] to uncover nakedness: I am the Lord.’ See Lev. 25.48, 49; Judg. 9.2; 2 Sam. 5.1; 2 Sam. 19.13-14; 1 Chron. 11.1; and Isa. 9.19 (LXX). 132. In Alexander Sand, Der Begriff Fleisch in den paulinischen Hauptbriefen (Regensburg: Pustet, 1967), 51. 133. Vincent P. Branick states, ‘As for many of Paul’s concepts, the meaning of σάρξ involves a simultaneous interpenetration or overlay of meanings. Because of this overlay, nowhere in Paul do we find a purely neutral sense of σάρξ, one without some theologically charged echo.’ (Vincent P. Branick, ‘The Sinful Flesh of the Son of God (Rom. 8.3): A Key Image of Pauline Theology’, CBQ 47 (1985): 246–62), 250–1). Branick quotes the See also, Florence Gillman, ‘Another Look at Romans 8.3: “In the Likeness of Sinful Flesh”’, CBQ 49 (1987): 597–604). 134. Illustrating Paul’s use of the term to illustrate solidarity; including race/ethnicity Branick cites Rom. 9.3; 11.14; and 4.1. Other references to Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ to emphasize solidarity include sex (1 Cor. 6.16; Eph. 3.5) or worldly order (Phil. 16; Col. 3.22; Eph. 6.5). Branick includes Ephesians and Colossians in his assessment of Paul’s usage. For examples where Paul uses the term ‘flesh’ to designate a power or a sphere of influence, Branick cites Rom. 7.5; 8.8, 12; and Gal. 5.16, 17, 24 (Branick, ‘The Sinful Flesh’, 251).

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milieu and, in fact, enslaved to Sin. Paul does not, however, view the ‘flesh’ itself as morally negative. The dominating power of Sin takes the weakened flesh and delivers it unto death. Because of its connection with Chapter 7, the doctrine of original Sin, and the sex act in general, the term ‘flesh’ has usually been thought of in morally negative categories.135 If judgement concerning the moral aspect of the ‘flesh’, as an entity, is suspended, a range of meaning is extended to the term that makes good sense of Paul’s usage in Chapters 7 and 8. At the beginning of Romans, Paul uses the term ‘flesh’ in a highly suggestive way. As Paul describes the ‘gospel of God’ (1.1), he says that the message is ‘concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be Son of God with power according to the Spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead’ (1.3-4). Paul uses several different terms to describe what he seeks to convey with the term ‘flesh’. He says that Jesus is ‘begotten’ from ‘out of David’s seed.’ This construction solidifies the human ancestry of Jesus. Paul uses the next phrase, ‘according to the flesh,’ to point to the difference between the notion of the flesh and the physical lineage or ancestry of Jesus, on the one hand, and the spiritual designation that Jesus receives from God, on the other. For Paul, the sequence of thought in 1.3-4 is not temporal, but epochal. On the one hand, Jesus was ‘begotten of David’s seed.’ According to the epoch or milieu of the flesh, strictly speaking, that is true. According to a spirit of holiness, however, Jesus was designated ‘Son of God in power.’136 The two milieus are contrasted in 1.3–4, and this prepares the readers of Paul’s letter to anticipate the emphasis on these same contrasting elements in Chapters 7 and 8. What has not been noticed is that Paul is using terms that describe the Jewishness of Jesus. In 1.3-4, as Paul contrasts the different, yet equally valid descriptions of Jesus’ ‘sonship’, he is demonstrating how the two work together. In Philippians 2.5-11 Paul has preserved another piece of traditional material. In Philippians 2.7 Paul speaks of the ‘likeness’ that Jesus had taken. Paul does not use ‘κάτα σάρκα,’ but rather ‘ἐν ὁμοιώματι ἀνθρώπων γενόμενος.’ This strengthens the argument that Paul was trying to suggest something a bit more specific in regard to Jesus’ ‘likeness’ in 135. For an assessment of this line of interpretation see Moo, Romans, 442–54. Moo states, ‘But the contrast with “spiritual” points to a more negative meaning … (that) describes the non-Christian state as being “in the flesh”. This characterization shifts Paul’s discussion away from the relationship between Jews and Gentiles and focuses it instead on the relationship between Jews and Christians or the ‘unregenerate’ and Christians’ (Moo, Romans, 454). 136.  The interpretation offered by Christopher Whitsett is persuasive. Whitsett’s article, ‘Son of God, Seed of David: Paul’s Messianic Exegesis in Romans 2.3-4’, JBL 119/4 (2000): 661–81), argues against many who view 1.3-4 as a Pauline appropriation of traditional materials. Robert Jewett considers 1.3-4 as a traditional piece that Paul re-works. The presence of the participles, the so-called uncharacteristic language (designated, ‘spirit of holiness’) and the strophic nature of the composition, seem to indicate that Paul may have incorporated a piece of tradition (Jewett, Romans, 97–8). See also, Fitzmyer, Romans, 229–30; and Moo, Romans, 45.



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Romans 1.3. Paul wanted to show Jesus as a partner with ‘Gentile flesh’ by virtue of his death on the Roman cross. Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ at the beginning of the letter, and in contrast with ‘spirit of holiness,’ prepares the reader to understand ‘flesh’ in a way that describes ethnicity or identity. Similarly, Paul identifies Abraham as ‘our forefather, according to the flesh’ in Romans 4. The use of the term here awakens the readers to the reality that has probably gone unnoticed. The connection Paul makes between his readers and the figure of Abraham is critical, in that Abraham receives God’s righteous pronouncement in advance of the covenant marker, and well in advance to the giving of the law. Paul’s use of the first person possessive pronoun, ‘our’, in this context is full of irony. While the Gentile God-fearer has consistently considered himself or herself excluded from the family of God, Paul has been arguing for their inclusion all along. This use of the term ‘flesh’ by Paul does not exclude the other nuances of the term. ‘Flesh’ is never used in a way that is devoid of the material or physical connotation.137 In 2.28, the ‘flesh’ is the flesh of the foreskin, the material upon which the covenant is marked. In 3.20, Paul uses the term in a Hebraic sense, when he says that ‘no flesh’ will be justified in God’s sight. The ‘flesh’ is always weak, natural, physical, and all that is non-divine. Paul’s additional terms help to clarify the specific rhetorical claim that he is making. In 1.3, ‘begotten of the seed of David,’ indicates the kind of ethnic point of view that Paul emphasizes. In 4.1, ‘our forefather’ is used to show what kind of relationship Paul is envisioning. In both cases, this designation can be considered penultimate. Paul uses the term ‘flesh’ in similar ways in Chapter 9, where it identifies Paul’s specific ethnic grouping – physical, natural, weak, and non-divine though it may be (9.3, 5, 8). As Paul moves the argument in 9–11 to a conclusion, the same designation arises again (11.14). Paul rounds out his argument in the hortatory section of the letter (Rom. 12-15), by appealing to the Stoic sense of the term, as he reminds his readers not to give in to the desires of the flesh (13.14). While Paul intends for his readers to understand the term ‘flesh’ as all that is not divine, the sphere that is contrasted with the Spirit, and that which has been easily overrun by the dominating influence of Sin, there is an unmistakable reference to ‘flesh’ in Romans as it is used in ethnic description. The major distinction in Romans is not between Jews and Christians, but between Jews and Gentiles. Viewing the rhetorical trajectory of Romans in this way allows the ethnic nuance of the term ‘flesh’ to come to the fore.138 In critical places where his argument matters most, Paul uses the term ‘flesh’ in the familiar way, where it stands for that which is physical, and for all that is non-divine in its orientation. What makes Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ distinctive in Romans has to do with the context and purpose of the letter itself. Paul is 137. Murphy, ‘BSR’, 69. 138. For a similar argument regarding ‘flesh’ in Ephesians, see, Tet-Lim N. Yee, Jews, Gentiles, and Ethnic Reconciliation: Paul’s Jewish Identity and Ephesians (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004).

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arguing about the status and inclusion of Gentile believers in the family of God. Paul wants to encourage the Gentile believers in Rome who may be tempted to jettison the Judaism from their faith on the one hand, or to become hopeless because of their lack of Jewish flesh and blood, on the other. Ethnic identity plays a major role in understanding just what Paul had in mind when he used the word ‘flesh’ in Romans.

The foundation for legitimacy in Romans 8 In Chapters 6–8 Paul attempts to comfort his Gentile audience with regard to their full inclusion of Gentile believers within the family of God.139 Paul saves his best piece of evidence until Romans 8. Before Paul claims adoptive sonship for his Gentile Roman audience, he recalls Romans 5.5 and describes freedom, life, and the reality of the indwelling Spirit. While Paul’s logic in the transition from Romans 7 to Romans 8 has been considered difficult to discern, it is easier to resolve if the speaker in Chapter 7 is given credit for recognizing that the law could only get a Gentile so far.140 A more detailed picture of Paul’s agenda in Romans 7 has helped us to anticipate the effectiveness of Paul’s argument and movement in Chapter 8. Paul draws a contrast between ‘flesh’, ‘law’, and ‘Sin’ in Chapter 7 to ‘Spirit’ and ‘life’ in Chapter 8. This will bring the domestic context into focus around the idea of kinship and family. Paul’s introduction of the Spirit in Chapter 8 begins with the recognition that freedom and life have come to believers with the Spirit of Christ. The chief concern of Romans 8.1 is that there is ‘no condemnation’ for ‘those who are in Christ Jesus.’ Since the God-fearing Gentile in Romans 7 has come to identify the center of the problem with his/her own Gentile flesh, Paul has recognized that the eschatological result for the Gentile, i.e. condemnation, has been undone by the work of Christ.141 Paul has been concerned with the impending condemnation of the Gentiles. The end-time condemnation has a current precursor and omen in Chapter 1. The vices listed in 1.19-32 already merit the ‘wrath of God … revealed against all impiety.’ There is recognition of God’s decrees but a complete disregard for them on the part of the Gentiles (οἵτινες τὸ δικαίωμα τοῦ θεοῦ ἐπιγνόντες). The same word that the NRSV translates as ‘decrees,’ δικαίωμα in 1.32, is used again in 8.4 but this time the previously ignored δικαίωμα has been ‘fulfilled in us.’142 The Gentiles, once regarded as worthy of condemnation, have instead been identified 139. See Esler, Conflict and Identity, 242–4. 140. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 415; Jewett, Romans, 479. 141. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 416; Byrne, Romans, 235. 142. Dunn notes the significance of the use of the term and the connections that Paul is forging between Romans 8 and 1 but still distances himself from an interpretation that treats the ‘fulfillment’ with any kind of finality (Dunn, Romans 1-8, 423).



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as the very group for whom the decrees of God have been fulfilled.143 This is only possible because of the Spirit. Prior to Romans, Paul has discussed the fate of the Gentiles in 2 Corinthians 3.7-11 where Paul affirms both the glory and the condemnation that the covenant brings under Moses.144 Arguing from the lesser to the greater, Paul connects the glory of the written covenant that ended in death and condemnation to the surpassing glory that has come because of justification. Paul’s argument is effective for the Corinthian church specifically because the church is made up of Gentiles. Paul is not arguing for Christianity in opposition to Judaism.145 Instead, Paul is working to describe the effects of the gospel for a Gentile congregation where imminent death and unavoidable condemnation have been overturned in Christ.146 Paul’s intention in his letter to the Romans is the same. The Gentile God-fearer in Romans 7 has been greeted with the impossibly good news that something has overturned condemnation. In Christ, condemnation has turned to freedom (8.2) because of the Spirit. This is what ties 7.25 to 8.1. This is also the way that Paul ties the slavery metaphor from chapters 5 and 6 to the freedom brought about by the Spirit in chapter 8. Freedom from the law of Sin does not mean that the Law has been nullified.147 It means that the futility of the flesh has been overcome by the power of the Spirit so that, in a very real way, ‘the requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit’ (8.4). In Rom 8.2, Paul’s use of the aorist tense verb ἠλευθερώσεν ‘has freed,’ seems to point to a new reality from that which is drawn in Rom 7.148 Paul is not saying that those who have been freed yet remain in the bonds of Sin. Paul may be directly addressing his interlocutor from Chapter 7. His address to ‘you’ (σε) is followed by the use of the aorist tense with the cross in mind. This freedom is genuine and indicates that Paul thought the experience of the Spirit had been validated in the lives of Gentile believers. Paul will show how this ‘works’ in Romans 8.12-17. Later in Romans 8 Paul will again link up the idea of freedom to the idea of family when he says, ‘the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay 143. Fitzmyer understands the use of the verb πληρόω as an example of the divine passive so that it is God who fulfills this requirement in the lives of believers. (Fitzmyer, Romans, 487.) 144. Jewett, Romans, p. 480. 145. Paul B. Duff, ‘Glory in the ministry of death: Gentile condemnation and letters of Recommendation in 2 Cor. 3.16-18,’ NovT 46/4 (2004): 313–37, 315. 146. Duff, ‘Glory’, 315. 147. Jewett, Romans, 481, ‘In Christ the law regains its proper spiritual function, which leads to genuine life.’ See also, Moo, Romans, 473–7 for a discussion of all the possible ways in which ‘law’ might be connected to ‘Spirit of life in Christ Jesus.’ 148. Dunn insists on reading Paul’s use of the aorist here with a qualification. Dunn’s reading of Rom. 7 as indicative of general Christian experience will not allow for Paul to actually mean that a person has been freed from Sin’s power (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 418).

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and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God’ (Rom. 8.21). Paul also describes the free gift of God that replaces the wages of sin and results in eternal life (Rom. 6.20-23). It is the death and resurrection of Jesus that makes true freedom possible. It is the ‘once and for all’ nature of the cross and the empty tomb that allows Paul to use the aorist sense of the verb in Romans 8.2.149 The event whereby believers are ‘freed’ in Romans 8.2 is the unified crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus where Paul locates the reversal of condemnation, wrath, and judgement through the ‘super’ abounding grace of God (5.20, ὑπερεπερίσσευσεν ἡ χάρις).150 The reversal is so entirely complete that Paul understands Gentile believers in his audience to go from condemned in the flesh to the possibility of fulfilling the acts or decrees of the law.151 This is made clear by the accompanying and clarifying object ‘in us’ (ἐν ἡμῖν). The purpose clause that begins verse 4, ‘in order that the just deeds of the law might be fulfilled in us,’ echoes Paul’s purpose statement in Romans 1.5 when he says that his calling by God has been ‘for the obedience among all of the Gentiles’ (εἰς ὑπακοὴν πίστεως ἐν πᾶσιν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν). In Romans 8.3, however, how is Christ to be identified with sinful flesh (ὁ θεὸς τὸν ἑαυτοῦ υἱὸν πέμψας ἐν ὁμοιώματι σαρκὸς ἁμαρτίας)? Leander Keck has suggested that the awkward construction is due to Pauline interruption of another ‘sending formula’ so that what had originally been something akin to Galatians 4.4 (God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law), gets modified with ‘sinful flesh.’152 The sending formula is parallel with Galatians 4.4, John 3.17, and 1 John 4.9. Jewett explains the syntax as ‘a nominative or an accusative absolute in apposition to the rest of the sentence.’153 Fitzmyer would like to have an infinitive such as ποίειν to complete the thought.154 The syntax is not the only thing that is troublesome about verse 3. That Jesus assumes ‘sinful flesh’ is a justifiable concern that needs explanation, too.155 Given the flow of the argument so far, however, one aspect that has not been sufficiently explored is that Paul uses the phrase to designate the kind of death that Jesus 149. Fitzmyer, Romans, 483. 150. Byrne, Romans, 235. 151.  LSJ, 429 where the term references not the codes or decrees themselves but the specific actions that are associated with any of the laws demands. 152. Jewett references Leander Keck, ‘The law and “The Law of Sin and Death” (Rom. 8.1-4); Reflections on the Spirit and Ethics in Paul’, in. The Divine Helmsman: Studies on God’s Control of Human Events, Presented to Lou H. Silverman, eds. L. L. Crenshaw and S. Sanmel (New York: Ktav, 1980), 49 (Jewett, Romans, 481). 153. Jewett, Romans, 481. 154. Fitzmyer, Romans, 483. In addition to Fitzmyer see Moo, Romans, 477 n.37, who sees verse 3 as an anacolouthon where a verb like ἐποίησεν must be supplied. 155. Moo notices this but takes Paul’s overall meaning as implying a distinction or contrast. ‘Paul uses ὁμοιώματι here for a reason; and it is probably, as in 6.5 and 5.14, to introduce a note of distinction. The use of the term implies some kind of reservation about identifying Christ with “sinful flesh”’ (Moo, Romans, 479).



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dies.156 Jesus dies a death that a sinful Gentile deserved to die. Jesus’ fate had become what had been destined for the Gentiles.157 The passage that Paul references elsewhere, Deuteronomy 21.23, records that the death on the cross was an ignominious and cursed death. This is a death that requires the exclusion from the people of God. The punishment must take place outside of the boundaries of the camp. Not even the land can be defiled. The thought is not out of order for Paul in a context where he is looking to support the idea of Christ’s solidarity with humanity through his sacrificial death.158 When Paul speaks of the likeness of sinful flesh, perhaps he is alluding to the shameful death that sinful flesh deserves and that Jesus, himself, experienced.159 This accords with Paul’s scheme in that he has consistently painted the work of Christ from two vantage points. The cross is always in view, but so also is his resurrection from the dead. Jesus has died a death that has turned the times. This might be what Paul is alluding to when we says that Jesus has come in the ‘likeness of sinful flesh.’ If this is the case, it holds the rest of the verse together. The ‘likeness of sinful flesh’ can be seen as a parallel construction to ‘condemned sin in the flesh.’ This balance becomes either side of the fulcrum. ‘In the likeness of sinful flesh’ describes the fashion of the death of Jesus and ‘condemned sin in the flesh’ describes the result. The middle piece shows the purpose: περὶ ἁμαρτίας, ‘concerning sin.’ Sin has been condemned rather than the Gentile and the result is the possibility of power for obedience because of the Spirit. Working through his argument, Paul’s understanding of the gospel remains intact. He uses the language of judgement and punishment that evokes the crucifixion of Jesus in verses 3–4 and returns to the resurrection in verse 11. The Spirit has a role, not just in terms of resurrection life, but also in the indwelling of believers whereby the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead now takes up residence in the very place where Sin had been dwelling previously.160 This 156. Byrne states that ‘The culmination of the divine “invasion” came with the death of the Son upon the cross (cf. the progression from ‘incarnation’ to death upon the cross in Phil. 2.7-8). The text appears to make allusion to this in a phrase, καί περὶ ἁμαρτίας, appended to the ‘sending’ clause … Paul incorporates here from the early Christian tradition a way of referring to the death of Jesus in cultic terms … [like] “sin-offering”’ (Byrne, Romans, 236). 157. Fitzmyer registers a sense of the difficulty with the passage but notes that Jesus ‘came in a form like us in that he became a member of the sin-oriented human race; he experienced the effects of sin and suffered death, the result of sin, as one “cursed” by the law (Gal. 3.13)’ (Fitzmyer, Romans, 485). 158. See also Gal. 3.10-14. 159. Jewett thinks that this may be the case: ‘But Paul’s allusion to the formula in Romans [i.e. the sending formula] … suffices to recognize that Paul alludes here to a formula that was probably familiar to Roman believers, thus providing a Christological grounding for his theory of the struggle between Spirit and flesh. Christ was sent “in the likeness of sinful flesh” to overcome “sin in the flesh” and thus to open up the possibility of a new life in the Spirit’ (Jewett, Romans, 483). 160. Jewett translates this ‘in your midst.’ Paul is attempting to show a reversal and

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stunning reversal has occurred because of the agency of the Spirit. For Paul, walking in the Spirit and having the indwelling Spirit are parallel and synonymous. Paul continues to emphasize the nature of obedience that is expected among those who believe. This is, in fact, crucial for Paul to do since it seems that some have already tried to infiltrate the believers in Rome, alleging that Paul supports a lawless gospel.161 In order to establish Rome as a proper base of operations for a trip to Spain and the westward expansion of the gospel, Paul clarifies his purposes regarding the conduct of believers. In 3.8 Paul must emphasize the matter: ‘And why not say (as some people slander us by saying that we say), ‘Let us do evil so that good may come’? Their condemnation is deserved!’ That Paul’s intention in Romans 1.6 and 8.4 might be legitimate is not considered among scholars who continue to take Romans 7 as the expression of either a Christian or Jewish psyche in conflict over the ability or inability to keep the law’s requirements.162 Romans 2.16, however, seems to indicate that Paul actually thought about the possibility of fulfilling the law’s requirements because of the influence of God’s Spirit. For Paul, the turn of the times on the cross not only resulted in a change of judgement, from condemnation to innocent, but it also involved a new potency for actually fulfilling the law’s requirements in and through concrete action.163 Paul presents both the description of resurrection life and the way of life that results for believers in Romans 8.5-10 because of the arrival of the Spirit. He has consistently balanced the ramifications and significations of both the cross of complete contrast to Chapter 7, and so, to take this quite literally as ‘in you’ makes better sense of the passage. 8.10 would imply the same kind of reality (Jewett, Romans, 492). Cf. Moo, Romans, 493. 161. Wedderburn, Reasons, 50–3. 162. Moo avoids the question for a page and a half only to qualify the way that Paul views verse 4. ‘First the passive verb, “might be fulfilled,” points not to something that we are to do but to something that is done in and for us.’ In the accompanying note (n. 62) he states, ‘Paul consistently uses the verb πληρόω with reference not to a human being “doing” the law in concrete existence, but with reference to the climactic, eschatological completion of the law first made possible in Christ.’ (Moo, Romans, 483). The only conclusion to Moo’s exegesis is that Paul really did not think the law was to be fulfilled ‘in us.’ Moo thinks that the law is fulfilled in ‘us’ as Christ becomes our substitute. 163. Richard Dillon has made a similar argument in ‘The Spirit as Taskmaster and Troublemaker in Romans 8’, CBQ, 60/4 (1998): 682–702. Dillon states, ‘In extending this apologetic purpose all the way through the triumphant discourse on the Spirit in Rom. 8, we shall be doing what is usually not done by commentators whom the chapter’s spectacular theology lures back to the perspective of unfolding Pauline “doctrine.” We shall propose that the four chapters constitute a comprehensive defense of the law-free gospel as a genuine way of salvation, giving hope and joy to its adherents amidst their earthly travails, and urging upon them he very highest moral standard of living instead of the anomie with which, no doubt, wayward Paulinists were currently tarring the great Apostle’s image’ (Dillon, ‘Spirit as Taskmaster’, 686).



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Jesus and the empty tomb. To this point in chapter 8 the cross has been in view. The sending formula and the judgement language in verse 3 confirms this. In verse 11 the empty tomb and resurrection life are in view. It is the Spirit that raised Jesus out of the dead that ‘dwells in you (ὑμῖν)’. In between verse 4 and verse 11 Paul draws the contrast between the flesh and the Spirit and he does this in two movements. The first movement extends from verses 4b through 8. Beginning in verse 4, Paul once again addresses his readers with plural verbs and pronouns (πληρωθῇ ἐν ἡμῖν, περιπατοῦσιν, φρονοῦσιν, along with all of the uses of οἱ). Verse 4b provides the general understanding of what new life according to the Spirit (κατὰ πνεῦμα) will look like. The participle περιπατοῦσιν, related to the verb περιπατέω can be defined as, ‘to go here and there in walking, go about, or walk around,’ or it can refer to one’s general way of going about in terms of clothing, or character. The second definition of the term, and the one that Paul has in mind here, is ‘to conduct one’s life, comport oneself, behave, (or) live as habit of conduct.’ When used with a prepositional phrase, as is found in verse 4, the verb can refer to ‘the sphere in which one lives or ought to live, so as to be characterized by this sphere.’164 The idea of living in the ‘sphere’ of the Spirit is prevalent in interpreting Paul but another idea that the verb describes is the ‘walk’ as a way of life that characterizes the way of a teacher in Stoic philosophy.165 It can also be used as a more general designation for a school of philosophy itself. Given the Roman environment for Paul’s letter and the Corinthian context for the letter’s composition, this would be an attractive option to explore as a possible referent for Paul’s readers. The mindset that is characterized by ‘flesh’ results in death (8.6) and hostility to God (8.7). Once again, Paul may be going to the philosophical context to emphasize his point about how the ‘school’ or the ‘sphere’ of the Spirit should think.166 The mindset of the flesh is completely incapable of pleasing God (8.7). Those walking in the Spirit ‘set their minds on the things of the Spirit (οἱ δὲ κατὰ πνεῦμα τὰ τοῦ πνεύματος) and this brings two significant benefits: life and peace (8.6). This is a more general description of the contrast between flesh and Spirit as Paul understands it. The present participle περιπατοῦσιν stands in contrast to the aorist verb in verse 2, ἠλευθέρωσέν. Paul is going to describe what the present and ongoing life of the readers of his letter should be expecting and living out. Life ‘according 164.  BDAG, 803. 165.  LSJ, 1382. 166. The notion that Paul may be using the philosophical context here may be supported by the fact that the specific term φρόνημα only occurs in 2 Macc. 7.21; 13.9 and the accompanying term φρόνησις can translate eleven different Hebrew terms (Hatch and Redpath, 1439). The verb itself occurs mostly in post-exilic, wisdom literature (Georg Bertram, ‘φρήν, ἄφρων, κτλ.,’ TDNT 9, 220–35, 224–7). Where φρόνημα has a wider field of meaning is in the philosophical context where it was used by Plato, Aristotle, and all the way through to the neo-Platonists and Stoics to describe everything from thoughts in general, to virtues, reality, training, etc. (Bertram, TDNT 9, 222–3; LSJ, 1956; BDAG, 1066).

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to the Spirit’ is described as genuine life, as opposed to death (8.6). Life lived according to the Spirit is characterized by peace with God whereas life in the flesh is characterized as antagonistic to God (τὸ φρόνημα τῆς σαρκὸς ἔχθρα εἰς θεόν) (8.7). 167 The ‘flesh’ was not capable of submitting to the full law because it was constituted as Gentile flesh. Verse 9 indicates that this is no longer the case. The Spirit now dwells ‘in you.’ This leads to the prospect of eschatological life rather than the certainty of judgement. The same Spirit that has raised Jesus from the dead (8.11) and has thus validated the turn of the ages and the fulfillment of God’s justice to the Gentiles now resides within ‘you’. The conversative δὲ in verse 9 may not necessarily signal an entirely different section but it does signal a transition or a differentiation that Paul wishes to draw. At this point the Roman readers are informed of their status, first negatively, then positively. ‘But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit’ (Ὑμεῖς δὲ οὐκ ἐστὲ ἐν σαρκὶ ἀλλὰ ἐν πνεύματι.) Paul clarifies this with the next statement: ‘since a spirit of God dwells in you.’ This may not be the case with all of Paul’s readers and he reflects that reality by mentioning that some may not, in fact, have Christ’s spirit and therefore, such a one does not belong to Christ.168 Romans 8.10 and 11, taken together, form the second movement of Paul’s two-step process in interpreting the life of Jesus. In verses 3–4 Paul describes the reality of the crucifixion. In verse 10, after the brief description of the two opposites of flesh and spirit, Paul reminds his readers that while the body might be dead because of Sin, the Spirit is alive because of righteousness. If Christ is ‘in you’, Christ’s body died on account of Sin (that is, the sin that Jesus came to overcome) but the spirit lives because of God’s justice (in raising Jesus from the dead). This interpretation is confirmed in verse 11 where Paul applies this reality directly to his readers. ‘If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.’ With Paul’s introduction of the Spirit in Romans 8.1–11, Paul prepares his audience for his most compelling piece of evidence regarding their fate. The Spirit brings freedom, bears life, and takes up residence in the believer. Sin has been displaced. The flesh is no longer overrun. In verses 12–17 Paul will substantiate his claims regarding the Spirit with his use of the adoption metaphor and with his assessment of the believer’s cry at baptism. 167. Jewett preserves his overall hermeneutic of Romans by suggesting that: ‘Paul’s language describes the avoidance by the converted community of fleshly behaviour aimed at gaining honor for one’s group in competition with others, and its replacement by following the Spirit of Christ.’ But significantly, he validates the fundamental reality of Paul’s injunction by stating, ‘Walking κατὰ πνεῦμα has an indisputably charismatic quality, involving encouragement, guidance, and inspiration by the Spirit, experienced within early Christian groups in their ecstatic worship services and in their life together’ (Jewett, Romans, 486; following Käsemann, Romans, 218–19). 168. Fitzmyer’s translation is preferred, here, since it captures the sense of ownership/ substance that Paul has in mind (Fitzmyer, Romans, 490).



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Conclusion Preparation for an investigation into the Roman Imperial context of Paul’s use of the phrase ‘Spirit of adoption’ has required an evaluation of Chapters 5–8. This investigation has been done with the audience of Paul’s letter in mind. Paul’s Gentile audience would have experienced his message of full inclusion among the people of God with reservation until Paul had shown the critical pieces of evidence that supported his claim. As Paul supports this idea, he has used the household as the social location for the pieces of evidence he has advanced. Slavery images and marriage analogies have been instrumental for Paul in asserting a new life and freedom for the Gentiles as among the family of God. This investigation has required a re-evaluation of Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ in Romans with the conclusion that Paul’s use of the term ‘flesh’ in Romans 7 indicates that it is the God-fearer who has identified his Gentile flesh as a barrier separating him from the full blessing of God. Paul begins chapter 8 by showing how the Spirit and ‘flesh’ are at odds with one another and mutually exclude one another. As chapter 8 continues, Paul will use the last of his household metaphors in order to demonstrate that the Gentiles were in no way illegitimate children of Abraham. In 8.12-17, Paul will use the phrase ‘Spirit of adoption’ in order to move past the images of slavery and marriage and will draw the Gentile God-fearers in Rome into the family of God as children. Paul’s use of the metaphor of adoption in the center of the Roman Empire, would have been thoroughly understood. Paul connects the Spirit with adoption in order to highlight the newfound status for the Gentiles as the children of God in distinction from the adoption of Roman Emperors as sons of god.

Chapter 6 ‘ T H E S P I R I T O F A D O P T IO N ’ I N I T S R OM A N I M P E R IA L C O N T E X T

Introduction When Paul uses the phrase ‘Spirit of adoption,’ he is evoking an Imperial narrative, at once political and religious, to substantiate his claim that Gentile believers were to be counted as legitimate children of God in the same way as Jews. There are two reasons for this conclusion. First, no other context adequately explains why Paul uses the adoption metaphor. Second, writing to Rome, Paul was well aware of the powerful way the adoption narrative sustained and preserved the Empire from Octavian to Nero, in both political and religious ways.1 These two observations make the Imperial context the most suitable place for understanding Paul’s use of the phrase ‘Spirit of adoption’ in Romans 8.15. Other possibilities showing how Paul came to use the adoption metaphor have been unable to demonstrate why Paul joins the term ‘Spirit’ with ‘adoption’.2 Paul’s Jewish background, for example, plays a role in his understanding of the people of God. The unique relationship that Yahweh maintained with the people of Israel, prominently displayed in the covenant with David in 2 Samuel 7.14, is described in familial terms.3 Paul has this image in mind and may allude to it in his description of Abraham as a forefather of the Gentiles, as well as Jews, in Romans 4. The idea of ‘sonship’ as an alternative translation for υἱοθεσία depends on the status ascribed to the children of God in the Hebrew Scriptures and intertestamental literature. This translation places the accent on the result of adoption, but does not explain why Paul must qualify it with the term ‘Spirit’.4 Certainly the prophets bear witness to the idea of ‘sonship’ and the status of the Jews as children of God in a similar way to Paul’s use of the term υἱοθεσία in Romans 9.4 as it 1.  It should be noted that there is no separation between religion and politics in ancient world. Politics was religious and religion was political. 2.  Our survey of the field has indicated that scholars treat ‘spirit’ and ‘adoption’ individually rather than in the connection that Paul presupposes. 3. Scott, Adoption As Sons, 268–9. 4. Byrne, Sons of God, 98.

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applies to the Jews.5 Paul’s inclusion of Gentile believers in the family of God is also not explained from the point of view of the Hebrew Scriptures. The categories of kinship and family are applied only to Jews in the Hebrew Scriptures. Paul may also use the adoption metaphor as a juristic allusion to the specific event whereby Gentile believers had been included in the family of God. On the cross, Jesus’ faithfulness gave them this opportunity. The experience of baptism confers and validates a new status. A new status before God partly explains Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor in Romans 8.15 but the addition of ‘Spirit’ would go beyond a juristic background for Paul’s rhetorical strategies.6 In the Hellenistic cities of the East, adoptions were a normal part of life, but the connection with a family ‘spirit’ was a Roman idea.7 Romans 5–8 demonstrates Paul’s familiarity with themes of the Roman Imperial context. Paul uses motifs from the Roman household to substantiate and clarify his main argument in the letter that Gentile believers share the same status as Jews as children of God. They receive this new status because of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ and the accompanying gift of God’s Holy Spirit.8 In a most unexpected way, God’s justice in holding back judgement was demonstrated with the death of Jesus and ratified by Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. The validation of this faithful act was the free gift of God’s Spirit giving life, strengthening weakness, and granting new status to Gentile believers as full members of God’s family. Paul evaluated these events within a prophetic, eschatological narrative and attempted to communicate this within the Roman Imperial context. One may safely assume that the author of Romans was familiar with the ideology of the Empire. His birth in Tarsus, schooling in Jerusalem, and travels in Philippi, Ephesus, and Corinth will have acquainted him with the civic demonstrations of Imperial power and religion. He used the coinage of the Empire and noticed that sons of god lived in one place –Rome. Paul’s heritage drew its connection to the family of God from Jerusalem. Jesus had made Gentiles, as well as Jews, into fully legitimate sons and daughters of God. This opposed the religious and political messages of the Empire. 5. See Byrne, Sons of God, 14–15 where Hos. 1.2-9; Jer. 3.19 figure prominently but as Byrne notes, ‘Any attempt to construct a systematic pattern from these scattered “sonship of God (fatherhood of God)” references would clearly be misguided. Sonship is not an important or frequently occurring theme. But it does feature in a fairly wide cross-section of the Old Testament’ (Byrne, Sons of God, 16). See also, Mawhinney, ‘Huiothesia’, 118. 6. Mawhinney argues that Paul uses the Roman socio/legal context as the ‘source of the metaphor’, but that the Jewish background provided the ‘religio/theological context requisite for its appropriate use’ (Mawhinney, ‘Huiothesia’, 150). 7. See the way in which the genius was tied to the specific family it represented in Chapter 3, above. See Michael Peppard emphasizes this as he describes the Roman father. Peppard says, ‘Roman adoption, as with most other Roman family relations, was unusually focused on the paterfamilias. At issue were his name, his wealth, his status, and his sacred rites; without a son, his divine spirit (genius) would perish’ (Peppard, Son of God, 60). 8. J. D. G. Dunn, Theology of Paul, 263.



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Paul uses imagery from the social location of a typical Roman Imperial household to communicate his message. For Paul, Abraham has become the new Aeneas.9 Paul’s use of Abraham in Romans 4 expands the notion of kinship beyond a strictly Jewish definition. Paul’s statement in Romans 5, that believers now enjoy peace with God, had Imperial overtones. In the Empire, a declaration of peace was declared after the subjugation of a people.10 Paul’s images of co-burial and co-crucifixion in Romans 6 emphasize the relationship between slave and master that was integral to the working efficiency of Rome and the Empire at large.11 When Paul begins to discuss freedom from the law as the critical marker of status within the people of God, he uses the marriage metaphor in an unexpected way as he draws attention to the way that a marriage or the dissolution of a marriage contributed to identity.12 The marriage analogy, along with the anticipated danger of adultery, would have been heard against the backdrop of Augustan marriage legislation and the most recent scandal between Claudius and his adulterous wife, Messalina.13 The ‘speech in character’ that rounds out Romans 7.7-25 leads to a full discussion regarding the distinction between the flesh and the Spirit (Rom. 8.1-11). Paul uses the term ‘flesh’ in a way that designates ethnicity and emphasizes the absence of the divine Spirit. The arrival of the Spirit in Chapter 8 brings new life and constitutes a new family. Having worked his way through aspects of the Roman household to communicate the message of the gospel, Paul now emphasizes the critical role of the Spirit. Where the flesh was weak and powerless, the Spirit can raise the dead (Rom. 8.11). Life lived according to the flesh brings death, but a life lived according to the Spirit brings new eschatological life (Rom. 7.6; 8.6). Paul’s argument accents the nature of the Spirit and culminates with the appropriation of the adoption metaphor takes on greater clarity from an Imperial point of view. To assess the way Paul uses the phrase ‘Spirit of adoption’ from within the Roman Imperial context, it is necessary to examine Paul’s use of the term 9. Kamudzandu, Abraham, 78. See also the article by Dieter Georgi, ‘Aeneas und Abraham: Paulus unter dem Aspekt der Latinität?’ Zeitschrift für Neues Testament (5/10, 2002), 37–43. 10. See Dieter Georgi, ‘God Turned Upside Down’, 148–57 and Neil Elliott, The Arrogance of Nations, 29. 11. See Bradley in Slaves and Masters, 25. See also J. Albert Harrill’s ‘Paul and Slavery’, 575–608. 12. See Joyce A. Little, ‘Paul’s Use of Analogy: A Structural Analysis of Romans 7.1-6’, CBQ 46/1 (January 1984): 82-90. Hellholm is a representative for those who observe the difficulties of Paul’s transition between Chapter 6 and 7.7 if the reading of Romans does not keep in mind the core idea of Gentile inclusion. See D. Hellholm, ‘Die argumentative Funktion von Römer 7.1-6’, NTS 43 (1997): 385–411. 13. On the Augustan marriage legislation see Richard I. Frank, ‘Augustus’ Legislation on Marriage and Children’, California Studies in Classical Antiquity 8 (1975): 41–52. For the story of Messalina, see Levick, Claudius, 55.

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‘Spirit.’ I will argue that the Roman Imperial context best explains Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor in Romans 8.15 and his argument in the letter as a whole.

Paul’s use of πνεῦμα In Romans 8, Paul uses the term ‘Spirit’ (πνεῦμα) twenty-one times. This is the highest concentration of Spirit language in Paul’s letters. The next closest, in terms of concentration, is 1 Corinthians 12, where the term occurs eight times in thirtyone verses. Paul does not emphasize the same kinds of things in 1 Corinthians 12 that he emphasizes in Romans 8. 1 Corinthians 12 speaks of gifts, the common unity of the Spirit, and the ways the Spirit brings about healing, prophecy, and the interpretation of tongues. None of these are mentioned in Romans 8. If Paul is writing from Corinth, why does he use the term ‘Spirit’ in such different ways when he writes his letter to the Romans?14 We have already canvassed the major scholarly contributions on Paul’s pneumatology in Chapter 2. The antecedents for Paul’s use of the term ‘spirit’ in his letters can be traced to the term’s use in Hellenism, the Hebrew Scriptures, Septuagint, and intertestamental literature, The term πνεῦμα is first used to describe moving air or wind. πνεῦμα represents blowing wind and the results of respiration.15 As a powerful elemental power in the universe, πνεῦμα surrounds the entire cosmos and gives the world its life.16 The movement of πνεῦμα is analogous to the powerful ways in which mental and spiritual realities can move within a person.17 According to Greek myth, πνεῦμα was one of the five original elements released by Chronos that inspires the poet, provides special abilities to desperate people, grants inspired speech, and moves the oracle at Delphi.18 In his discussion of the human body, Plato desribes πνεῦμα as a substance of very fine particles that become the network of the body.19 πνεῦμα 14. Brendan Byrne states, ‘It is generally agreed that Paul wrote to Rome during an extended winter stay in Corinth just prior to setting out for Jerusalem with the Collection gathered from the Gentile churches of Macedonia and Achaia.’ See Byrne, Romans, 8; Moo, Romans, 3; and Jewett, Romans, 18. 15. Eduard Schweizer and Hermann Kleinknecht, ‘πνεῦμα, πνευματικός, κτλ.’ TDNT, 6, 333–455, 334–5. See also Burton, Spirit, Soul, and Flesh, 13-15. 16.  LSJ, 1424, Anaximenes, 2, ed. H. Diels in Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker (Rowohlts Klassiker der Literatur und der Wissenschaft 10; Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1957). See Schweizer and Kleinknecht, TDNT 6, 335. 17. Schweizer and Kleinknecht, TDNT 6, 337. See also J. Stenzel, ‘Zur Entwicklung des Geistbegriffes in der griechisch Philosophie’, Antike 1 (1925): 244–72. 18. Schweizer and Kleinknecht, TDNT 6, 340–6. See Hom. Il., 20, 223f. for a description of the myth of the fructifying of the mares of Dardanos by Boreas. See also, Virgil, Georg., III, 274 f.; cf. Varro, De Re Rustica, II, 1, 19; Plin. Nat. Hist., 10, 166.) 19. Plato, Tim. 78. A, B. See, Burton, Spirit, Soul, Flesh, 16.



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fills everything, sustains everything and gives life to everything in the universe.20 In Greek philosophy πνεῦμα designates a divine or quasi-divine substance that sustains and connects the other elements that make up the universe, especially the higher elements of fire and air.21 Kleinknecht concludes that in Hellenism, πνεῦμα ‘is a kind of quintessence. Invisibly fine corporeality, air-like form, the bearing of warmth or fire, spontaneous movement and tension make the mighty substance which permeates, integrates, moves, vivifies and gives soul to all reality in all its forms.’22 In the Septuagint, πνεῦμα translates the term ַ‫ רוּח‬in all but three occurrences. In the Hebrew Scriptures ַ‫ רוּח‬describes the breath that issues from the mouth (e.g. Ps. 33.6; 135.17; Job 9.18; 19.17; Isa. 11.4).23 ַ‫ רוּח‬is the wind or a soft breeze, a strong wind, or even a violent wind (e.g. Job 4.15; Gen. 3.8; Isa. 32.2; Hos. 4.19; Ps. 55.8, etc.)24 When applied to humanity, ַ‫ רוּח‬can denote the principle of life in the body (Gen. 6.17; 7.15) or the seat of the emotions, intellect, or will.25 As applied to God, the Spirit can be a divine agent and it can be powerfully creative (e.g. Ezek. 37.9, 10).26 God’s power as ‘Spirit’ can also be applied to God’s moral agency.27 In the Hebrew Scriptures, the Spirit of God consistently demonstrates a connection to the prophets. This begins in Numbers 11 when God responds to Moses’ complaint by giving the Israelites the Spirit, resulting in the manifestation of prophecy (Num. 11.16-25).28 This small episode in Numbers represents the strategic priority placed on the office and function of the prophet in connection with the Spirit. All of the definitions thus far supplied for both ַ‫ רוּח‬and πνεῦμα are preserved in the prophets, and this makes a specific definition, like that which we have 20. Kleinknecht states: ‘Filling everything between earth and heaven, πνεῦμα is a mighty force in the life of all nature, both organic and inorganic: τὸ πνεῦμα καὶ ἐν τοῖς ὅλλοις πρήγμασι δυναστεῦον καὶ ἐν τοῖσι σώμασι τῶν ζῴωμ’. (Schweizer and Kleinknecht, TDNT, 6, 353 n.86, citing Hippocr. De Flatibus, 3 (CMG, I, 1, 92, 20ff.; 93, 6ff.); 4 (I, 1, 93, 19ff.); 15 (I, 1, 101, 19f.)). 21. Schweizer and Kleinknecht, TDNT, 6, 354. The same kind of terminology describes πνεῦμα in Wisdom of Solomon 13.2. 22. Schweizer and Kleinknecht, TDNT, 6, 354. Chrysipp. Fr., 479 (von Arnim, Stoicorum veterum fragmenta (Lipsiae: in aedibus B. G. Teubneri, 1903, vol. 2), 157, 36.) 23. Werner Bieder, TDNT, 6, 360. God can send the wind, as well. See: Gen. 8.1; Exod. 10.13, 19; 14.21; 15.10; Num. 11. 31; Ps. 107.25; Isa. 40.7; and Amos 4.13 (Burton, 54, 61.) 24. Bieder, TDNT, 6, 360. 25. Bieder, TDNT, 6, 361. 26. Bieder, TDNT, 6, 363. 27. Bieder, TDNT, 6, 365–6. 28. LXX, Num. 11.25-26: ‘καὶ κατέβη κύριος ἐν νεφέλῃ καὶ ἐλάλησεν πρὸς αὐτόν, καὶ παρείλατο ἀπὸ τοῦ πνεύματος τοῦ ἐπ’ αὐτῷ καὶ ἐπέθηκεν ἐπὶ τοὺς ἑβδομήκοντα ἄνδρας τοὺς πρεσβυτέρους, ὡς δὲ ἐπανεπαύσατο τὸ πνεῦμα ἐπ’ αὐτούς, καὶ ἐπροφήτευσαν καὶ οὐκέτι προσέθεντο.’ Gunkel notes that there is an equivalency for the dispensation of the spirit as the ‘bestowal of an office’ (Gunkel, Influence, 27).

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assigned to ‘flesh,’ rather difficult. However, it is clear that the ‘Spirit of God’ is often connected to the eschatological moments of judgement and salvation. Isaiah 4.16 describes the exaltation and glorification of the remnant of Israel with the washing and purging accomplished by ‘the spirit of judgement and the spirit of burning’ in verse 4 [ἐν πνεύματι κρίσεως καὶ πνεύματι καύσεως]. In addition, Isaiah 11.1ff. lists the results the ‘rod from Jesse’s root’ will accomplish and the critical nature of the Spirit in regard to the eschatological scene that is described.29 The ‘Spirit of God’ resting on ‘him’ is a spirit of wisdom, understanding, counsel, strength, godliness [εὐσέβεια], and the spirit of the fear of God. As Paul will emphasize in Romans 8, the dispensation of the Spirit in Isaiah 11 has a direct impact on the Gentiles. In addition to the images of the wolf feeding with the lamb and the children dwelling in safety amid the beasts, the ‘whole world is filled with the knowledge of the Lord’ (Isa. 11.9) and the Gentiles will be ruled and shall trust ‘in him’ (Isa. 11.10) as the Spirit gathers the remnant of the people from all over the world (11.12). This entire line of thought makes sense of Paul’s argument in Romans, and especially Paul’s use of the term ‘spirit’ in Romans 8, where he conceives of his audience as those upon whom the Spirit rests and within whom the Spirit resides (Rom. 8.9). Isaiah 30.27-28 is a description of the way the Spirit accompanies God’s eschatological judgement of Assyria. Isaiah 42.1ff. describes the servant of God upon whom the Spirit of God rests (Isa. 42.1). ‘Justice to the nations’ (Isa. 42.2) results in the potential for God’s Spirit to be given to all of the people in the world (42.5). Isaiah 42.67 explains God’s purposes in the deliverance that God’s servant brings: ‘I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, (εἰς διαθήκην γένους, εἰς φῶς ἐθνῶν) to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.’ The eschatological moment in Isaiah 44.1 demonstrates the significant role of the Spirit. The Lord says, ‘I will pour my spirit upon your descendants, and my blessing on your offspring’ (ἐπιθήσω τὸ πνεῦμά μου ἐπὶ τὸ σπέρμα σου καὶ τὰς εὐλογίας μου ἐπὶ τὰ τέκνα σου). Importantly, and again in line with Paul’s argument in Romans 8, kinship, family, and even the giving of family names become aspects of the eschatological blessing of the Spirit as enunciated by the prophet.30 Intertestamental literature demonstrates similar understandings of πνεῦμά to that of the LXX and Hebrew Scriptures. πνεῦμά can be the breath of God (e.g. 2 Macc. 7.22; Bar. 2.17; Sir. 38.23).31 The Spirit of God can bless and give 29. In this specific context, it is significant that Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue also characterizes a pastoral scene of cosmic glory associated with Augustus’ reign. 30. While Acts is certainly much later than Paul’s writing, the identification of Acts 2 and Joel 3.1-5 (LXX) indicates that a connection between the Spirit, Joel’s prophecy, and the incorporation of the Gentiles was a feature of early Christianity. 31. Bieder, TDNT, 6, 368.



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punishment (Sir. 39.6; Tob. 6.8) and can grant special ability and resolve for sacred tasks (1Ezra 2.5; Wis. 5.3; Tob. 4.3; Judg. 7.19).32 In Wisdom, the Spirit is understood as a principle of life and is portrayed with a certain amount of hypostatic independence (Wis. 5.23; 9.17).33 Hellenistic Judaism shows similar uses for πνεῦμα. Philo of Alexandria demonstrates a familiarity with the pneumatology of the Stoics in the first-century ad.34 Grounding his study of Philo in the exegetical, autobiographical, and apologetic texts, Levison shows that Philo uses Stoic categories to demonstrate that the divine and all-pervading Spirit maintains the entire cosmos.35 Josephus uses ‘spirit’ terms in ways that are parallel to the Septuagint or Philo.36 Saul can be described as possessed by an evil spirit; likewise, the angel of God can be referred to as a πνεῦμα θεῖον.37 When Josephus refers to the ‘Spirit of God’ it is in a way that suggests that the manifestation of God’s Spirit is relegated to the prophetic past.38 Paul uses the term πνεῦμα from both Jewish and Hellenistic backgrounds, but also, shifts its connotation because of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.39 Perhaps an innovation of Pauline theology, the close association between ‘in the Spirit’ and ‘in Christ,’ suggests that Paul may have developed the notion of what it meant to be ‘in the Spirit’ with reference to the eschatological reality of Christ’s resurrection.40 This new eschatological reality grants Paul a unique opportunity to expand the concept of πνεῦμα as he reflects on the theological reality of God’s redemptive agency in Jesus Christ. Paul’s letters show that he is constantly thinking through the issues of redemption, resurrection, and mission as he works out his understanding of the Spirit’s essence and the Spirit’s agency. 32. Bieder, TDNT, 6, 369. 33. Bieder, TDNT, 6, 371. 34. For an extensive look at Philo’s pneumatology as it pertains to the idea of divine inspiration, see J. R. Levison’s article ‘Inspiration and the Divine Spirit in the writings of Philo Judaeus’, JSJ (23/3, 1995), 271–323. 35. Levison, ‘Inspiration’, 278. 36. Bieder, TDNT 6, 375. 37. Bieder, TDNT 6, 375, Josephus, Ant. 4. 108; 1 Sam. 16.23. 38. Bieder, TDNT 6, 375, Josephus, Ant. 4.119. 39. Käsemann, Romans, 221. 40. Käsemann goes on to state that, ‘the reciprocity in the use of the formulae (in Christ) makes sense only if they are derived from pneumatology and understood in light of it. By the Spirit Christ seizes power in us, just as conversely by the Spirit we are incorporated into Christ. Familiar to both the Jewish and the pagan environment of the primitive Christianity was the idea that the Spirit comes into a person ecstatically, removes him beyond the purely human sphere, and associates him with the heavenly world. If this concept is applied in a new way to Christ, the dualistic perspective goes along with it and an eschatological modification is possible. Christ and the Spirit divide the old world and the new.’ (Käsemann, Romans, 222).

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The apostle Paul would have been familiar with the Hellenistic conception of πνεῦμα as a divine or quasi-divine, life giving substance or sphere of existence.41 This certainly seems to be likely in 1 Corinthians 3.16; 15.45; 2 Cor. 3.3; 5.5; 13.13; and Philippians 3.21.42 Dale Martin suggests that Paul describes the resurrection body of Jesus as spiritual rather than natural or earthly (1 Cor. 15.44).43 A spiritual body would be a real body but it would not be of the same sort as the natural one.44 Paul’s Hellenistic audience would have understood πνεῦμα in these ways.45 The risen Christ is the πνεῦμα and turning to Him brings entry into its sphere.46 Paul also uses the term to speak of both the cross and resurrection of Christ along with the accompanying spiritual reality of what is to come eschatologically and in the life of a believer. Paul can speak of the resurrection of Jesus (1 Cor. 6.14) to emphasize how individual bodies will become members of Christ’s body and, therefore, holy in this context (1 Cor. 6.16-20).47 Romans 8.11 belongs in this category. The cross is determinative for Paul’s understanding of the Spirit. Paul states: ‘If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you’ (Rom. 8.11). In 2 Cor. 3.17, Paul makes the connection explicit: ‘Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom’ (ὁ δὲ κύριος τὸ πνεῦμά ἐστιν· οὗ δὲ τὸ πνεῦμα κυρίου, ἐλευθερία). Schweizer maintains that this move by Paul is not an outright identification of 41. This is a presumption based on the intuition that Paul would probably not have hypostasized or divinized the notion of ‘spirit’ right away. His understanding of Judaism may have allowed for a discussion regarding the nature and agency of the Spirit of God but may not have permitted him to posit that the πνεῦμα itself was divine. 42. In 1 Cor. 2.12, for example, one may ‘receive’ the Spirit. See Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 18. 43. Martin, Corinthian Body, 126, goes on: ‘Paul, like the philosophers, assumes a physiological hierarchy of the cosmos, a scale of stuff along which the stuff (or more precisely, the various stuffs) of the human self can be placed.’ See also, Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 44. Engberg-Pedersen states, ‘We should conclude that there are clear indications throughout Philippians that Paul saw the πνεῦμα as a power that would be operative at the resurrection. Chapter 3.21 provides a picture of this event that is closely similar to the one given in 1 Cor. 15. We should also conclude that he took the πνεῦμα to be present in believers both in the future and also in the present. In addition, we have seen that a physicalist understanding of the πνεῦμα seems implied all through.’ (Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 46). 44. Martin, Corinthian Body, 127. 45. ‘Here, then, the πνεῦμα cannot be regarded as the mere sign of what is to come. As a part of the heavenly world πνεῦμα is the thing itself. Since the Hellenist always thinks of power in terms of substance, the coming of the Spirit is for him the breaking in of heavenly substance. If Jesus was the bringer of the Spirit, then He was the bearer of heavenly substance with which He endowed believers and united them with the heavenly world’ (Eduard Schweizer, ‘πνεῦμα’, TDNT 6, p416.). See 1 Cor.12.13; 2 Cor. 3.17. 46. Schweizer, TDNT 6, 418. 47. Schweizer, TDNT 6, 421.



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‘two entities’, but rather a description of the Lord’s ‘mode of existence.’48 The accompanying reality of the cross has a present and a future aspect. Paul calls the Spirit the ἀρραβών, the ‘guarantee’ of that which God prepares for the future (2 Cor. 3.9; 5.5; 1.22). Paul connects the nature of the Spirit with the validation of the Spirit within the experience of the faithful community. Paul views the Spirit as instrumental for prophetic power and accurate use of the prophetic gift (1 Thess. 5.19; 1 Cor. 14.37). The Spirit’s power led the Thessalonians to full conviction of Paul’s gospel message (1 Thess. 1.5; see also Rom. 15.19). The Spirit validated Paul’s preaching to the Galatians and Paul uses this evidence to undermine the false ‘teachers’ who have distorted his gospel (Gal. 3.5-9).49 Paul believes the Spirit, given to believers, imparts the knowledge of God and the mind of Christ (1 Cor. 2.10-16).50 The Spirit is capable of dwelling in a believer (1 Cor. 3.16).51 The Spirit is the agent of washing, sanctification, and justification in the name of Jesus (6.11) and cannot, therefore, be united to a prostitute (1 Cor. 6.17).52 The Spirit gifts the church with messages of wisdom or knowledge (12.8), faith and healing (12.9), miraculous powers, prophecy, discernment, glossolalia, and the interpretation of glossolalia (12.10), are all from the same Spirit (12.11) that serve to unify and build up the church. Paul uses the term ‘Spirit’ as it was passed down in formulae or as a way of referring to the experience of the spirit in the earliest Christian communities.53 Paul describes the Spirit as ‘given’ by God to the community (Rom. 5.5; 2 Cor. 1.22; 5.5; 1 Thess. 4.8; 2 Tim. 1.7). Paul can use the term ‘received’ in connection with the Spirit, in order to validate something that has already happened within the community of faith (Rom. 8.15; 1 Cor. 2.12; 2 Cor. 11.4; Gal. 3.2, 14).54 Galatians 4.6 is the predecessor text to Romans 8.15 where Paul first uses the adoption metaphor along with the attribution of the Spirit’s role in the process. Adoption is described first in verse 5, followed by the reception of the Spirit in verse 6, which validates the adoption and causes the ecstatic cry of ‘Abba, Father’. 48. Schweizer, TDNT 6, 418. 49. Information about the ‘teachers’ is supplied by J. L. Martyn, Galatians: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 33A (New York: Doubleday, 1997), 120–3. See also: Horn, Das Angeld, 64; Richard N. Longenecker, Galatians, WBC 41 (Dallas: Word Books, 1990), 123 describes these verses as the climax of the entire argument to this point. 50. See Gordon D. Fee, Paul, the Spirit, and the People of God (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 1996), 143 and The First Epistle to the Corinthians, (NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 97–120. This view is expressed by Thomas Gillespie, in The First Theologians: A Study in Early Christian Prophecy (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 183-85. See also, Gunkel, Influence, 78; Fee, First Corinthians, 119-20. 51. Horn, Das Angeld, 66. 52. Fee, First Corinthians, 204. 53. Horn, Das Angeld, 62. Horn also lists Acts 5.32; 15.8; 2 Tim. 1.7; and 1 Jn 3.24; 4.13. 54. Horn, Das Angeld, 64.

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All of the elements that figure prominently in Romans 8 appear in Galatians 4, but in a different order. Paul uses the idea of inheritance in 4.1 and at the end of the paragraph (4.7). Running throughout 4.17, also, is the idea of slavery. In Galatians 4, believers are in danger of falling back into slavery to the ‘elemental spirits of the world’ (Gal. 4.3). Instead, a new status of kinship and freedom has been granted ‘in Christ Jesus’ that can equally be described in terms that connect Paul’s Gentile audience to ‘Abraham’s seed’ (Gal. 3.28-29). A new status and kinship with Abraham depends on ‘faith in Christ Jesus’ (3.26) and the fact that God ‘sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba!”’ As in Romans 8.15, Paul draws on the common experience of the baptismal tradition in order to describe the experience of the Spirit in Galatians 4.6.55 Paul emphasizes that the Spirit of the Son has been sent from God into the hearts of believers.56 The Spirit is the Spirit of Christ and makes its mark on believers by communicating the character of the Son to the hearts of those who have received the Spirit.57 The ways in which Paul’s metaphor of adoption, inheritance language, and the reference to Abraham as a common ancestor in Galatians primarily refers to the relationship between Gentile believers and the Jews. There is another relationship, however, that is in view. The Spirit of the Son brings the status of a child of God. In Galatians, Paul may have the relationship between the family of God and the Empire in mind. Brigitte Kahl remarks, This strong weight on the legitimacy of the Galatians as members of Abraham’s ‘one’ multinational people (3.29) – and, moreover, as children of God (4.6–7) – cannot be seen as an innovation within the Jewish reference system alone, however. It immediately transgresses into public space and interferes with the imperial construct of identity and geology that has the Roman ancestor Aeneas hold the very position Paul attributes to Abraham, and that establishes the unity of the nations under the (not-) one father and divine Caesar as pater patriae.58

The Spirit of the Son, sent by God, makes an impact on the way that the Galatian believers would have reacted to Caesar as a representative father. It would also have prepared the way for the idea that their new status in God’s family undermined that which was described by the Empire. In Romans, there is a qualitative difference in the way that Paul uses πνεῦμα vis-a-vis 1 Corinthians. Although Paul is writing Romans from Corinth, he replaces the language of ‘giftedness’ and the attendant features of power such as glossolalia, prophecy, and healing with language that is descriptive of the Spirit’s 55. Martyn, Galatians, 391. 56. Heinrich Schlier, Der Brief an die Galater, KEK (Göttingen: Vandenoeck & Ruprecht, 1962), 197–8. Martyn emphasizes that the Spirit of the Son comes from the Father, that is, from an entirely different ‘place’. (Martyn, Galatians, 390). 57. Dunn, Galatians, 221. 58. Brigitte Kahl, Galatians, 282–3.



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agency in terms of ethics, inclusion, and eschatology. Paul takes one opportunity to allude to the Spirit’s power in Romans 15.19 when he describes the ‘signs and wonders’ that had been features of his ministry to the Gentiles. Although Paul writes Romans from Corinth, the pneumatology of Romans has little in common with Paul’s Corinthian letters. What accounts for the difference? When Paul uses the term ‘Spirit’ in Romans, divine agency, divine presence, and the arrival of the eschatological blessing of God are significant to the argument that Gentile God-fearers were to be considered full members in the family of God. The Spirit provides the determining factor in Jesus’ divine sonship (Rom. 1.4). The love of God has been poured into ‘our hearts’ as a result of the Spirit (Rom. 5.5, ὅτι ἡ ἀγάπη τοῦ θεοῦ ἐκκέχυται ἐν ταῖς καρδίαις ἡμῶν διὰ πνεύματος ἁγίου τοῦ δοθέντος ἡμῖν.)59 Romans 5:6–9 substantiates Paul’s claim for the poured out love of God by alluding to the crucifixion of Christ. The death of Jesus proves God’s love (Rom. 5.8) and the blood of Christ justifies and saves ‘us’ (Rom. 5.9). The sacrificial images associated with the term ἐκκέχυται in the Septuagint should not be overlooked. Among the uses of ἐκχείν in reference to water, words, or wrath, are others describing the poured out blood in murder or sacrifice.60 In Romans 5, the sacrifice is provided by Christ and validated with the outpouring of God’s love in the specific form of the Spirit. The eschatological reality of the Spirit has provided a release from the demands of the law (Rom. 7.6). With new life, the Spirit brings a new law (8.2) and enables those who ‘walk … according to the Spirit’ to fulfill the requirement of the law (8.4). Paul distinguishes between the flesh and the Spirit, emphasizing the strengthening and life-giving power of the Spirit over and against the corrupting and death-dealing power of Sin when it takes hold of the flesh. Paul describes the indwelling presence of the Spirit (8.11) and identifies this Spirit with the power that resurrects Jesus from the dead. The Spirit functions to validate the status of believers as ‘children of God’ (τέκνα θεοῦ, 8.14). The Spirit that brings freedom (8.2) also effects adoption (8.15). 59. This verse might be linked with LXX Joel 3.1-5 where ‘poured out, and ‘spirit’ (Καὶ ἔσται μετὰ ταῦτα καὶ ἐκχεῶ ἀπὸ τοῦ πνεύματός μου ἐπὶ πᾶσαν σάρκα), are closely related. While ‘all flesh’ does not necessarily surface in Romans 5, that has been Paul’s point all along. See also, J. D. G. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 252. 60.  LSJ, 526 lists the references and definitions attributable to the classical and Hellenistic usage. The term can denote the pouring out of a liquid or the spilling of a liquid. It can also refer to the words that ‘pour forth.’ When used in the description of water, the term can also mean ‘to waste’ or ‘squander.’ It is the LXX that prefers the term ἐκχέω in reference to either sacrifice or murder. In the Torah the term is used to describe murder in Gen. 9.6; 37.22; Lev. 17.4, 13; Num. 35.33, 34; Deut. 19.10; 21.7; and the sacrificial shedding of blood in Exod. 29.12; Lev. 4.7, 12, 18, 25, 30, 34; 8.15; Deut. 12.16; 15.23. See 1 Kings 1.15; Ps. 141.2 (LXX 141.3); Sir. 24.33 as they describe the poured out words or prayers, Hos. 5.10; Zech. 12.10; convey the sense of Yahweh’s poured out judgement, and Mal. 3.10 has the sense of Yahweh’s poured out blessing.

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Romans 8.23-27 shows that Paul is comfortable in positing a future aspect to his notion of the Spirit. Having been given in some measure (8.23), The Spirit will help those who wait with the creation for the full revelation of the children of God. Since the same Spirit that knows the mind of God indwells believers, the Spirit will function as their intercessor (Rom. 8.26, 27). Romans 8.14-30 is crucial for understanding how Paul’s pneumatology connects with his eschatology. In his comments about this paragraph in Romans, Engberg-Pedersen notes: Here we again meet – and very explicitly – the Pauline motif of gaining eschatological glory at the resurrection through present suffering. And this idea is tied very closely to reception of the πνεῦμα in baptism. Thus Paul’s ‘baptism cluster’, as we may call it, includes the ideas of reception of the πνεῦμα, which is a pledge of future glory when the baptized will become ‘conformed to the image of Christ’ (8.29) and indeed will be glorified together with him (8.17), but also of present suffering, in which they will suffer together with Christ (8.17) – in short, the motif of ‘through death to resurrected life.61

The πνεῦμα that children of God share grants status, intercedes with God, and will eventually bring them into conformity with the image of Christ. (Rom. 8.29).62 The way Paul can integrate the present aspect of the πνεῦμα with the future glory of God shows that πνεῦμα was a contributing factor to Paul’s view of salvation and that Paul had no problem moving back and forth in time between past, present, and future.63 It is the πνεῦμα that makes this movement possible. In Romans, Paul also appeals to the Spirit in order to demonstrate his honesty in oath taking (9.1). Paul encourages his recipients not to lag in the Spirit’s zeal (Rom.12.11). The Spirit demonstrates the arrival of the kingdom of God (Rom. 14.17). The Spirit can provide abundant hope as God fills believers with all joy and peace (Rom. 15.13; cf. 5.15). Paul fashions his ministry among the Gentiles in terms of the Spirit, where the Spirit sanctifies the offering that the Gentiles make to the Jerusalem church (Rom. 15.16). Paul requests prayer by way of an appeal to ‘our Lord Jesus Christ and by the love of the Spirit’ (Rom. 15.30). In Romans 8.1-11, Paul emphasizes the relationship of the Spirit with life and contrasts this with the relationship of the flesh with death as he has described it in Romans 7–8. The πνεῦμα grants and sustains new life through the divine substance that has been graciously extended to those who are ‘in Christ Jesus’ 61. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 53. 62. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 53. ‘The whole picture becomes concrete and strikingly intelligible as soon as we understand the πνεῦμα literally as a physical entity.’ 63. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 55. ‘And here we discovered a quite striking idea to the effect that when the physical πνεῦμα, which has been received in baptism, is in operation in believers, their physical bodies of flesh and blood are literally in the process of dying away: atrophying. The takeover by the physical πνεῦμα that will be completed at the resurrection is already under way.’



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(Rom. 8.2). Those incorporated into Christ by way of baptism experience eschatological and heavenly life (Rom. 8.12-17).64 Engberg-Pedersen connects Romans 8, Philippians 3.21 and 1 Corinthians 15.45 in order to demonstrate that the ‘glorious’ body of Christ is ‘bodily’ conceived.65 The function of the Spirit in Romans 8 anticipates that God plans to bring life to the mortal bodies of the Roman believers.66 Paul believes that the pneumatic component that is working to enliven his Roman audience is a substance that is at work in the mortal body in a way that precedes the final moment of glorification with Christ (8.17). This is the way in which Paul thinks suffering produces glorification. The heavenly substance, the πνεῦμα of God, functions in a specific way in Romans 8. The arrival of the Spirit demonstrates the full inclusion and full status of the Gentiles within the family of God. The fullness of the Spirit provides a basis for the validation of the Roman Christians’ full inclusion among the people of God. This point is significant because Paul uses πνεῦμα as the contrasting element to σάρξ that has been utterly overrun by the power of Sin. The Gentile God-fearer, hopelessly enmeshed in a flesh that cannot please God (Rom. 7.7-25), has heard the impossibly good news that the Spirit has liberated, enlivened, and adopted her or him as a full member in the people of God. In keeping with Paul’s use of πνεῦμα throughout his correspondence, this full inclusion involves an ethical component. Having the πνεῦμα of God brings with it the full capacity to be ‘led’ as children of God. The presence of God’s divine substance, the same substance that raised Jesus from the dead, now leads the believer and this results in a spirit that ‘is alive because of righteousness’ (Rom. 8.9-11). There is a new capacity and strength to fulfill the mission that Paul announced in Romans 1.5 ‘to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name.’ The desperate concern of the Gentile God-fearer in 7.7-25, governed by Gentile flesh and impossibly removed from a position of legitimacy among the people of God, has been answered by God with the gift of God’s own Spirit which provided for the adoption, legitimacy, strength to overcome Sin, and the status to be counted as God’s own children.

64. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 55. 65. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 56. ‘That the resurrected Christ himself is a bodily being comes out in a passage we already know well: Phil. 3.21, where Paul states that the returning Lord, Jesus Christ, will “transform our lowly body so that it may obtain the same shape as his glorious body.” We have already suggested that the body of human beings that will possess the same shape as Christ’s glorious body is the physical, pneumatic resurrection body of the type mentioned in 1 Cor. 15.44. Thus the resurrected Christ will himself be a physical, pneumatic body.’ 66. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 62.

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Romans 8.12-17: The spirit of adoption New indebtedness In Romans 8.12 Paul advances to his conclusion regarding the status of Gentile God-fearers. Once more, it should be noted that Paul continues to use the social location of the household in the Roman Imperial context for his argument. In order to analyze the possible Imperial and household overlays on Paul’s argument in Romans 8.12-17, I will proceed verse by verse, with special attention given to verse 15. Paul begins verse 12 with a standard inferential construction (ἄρα οὖν) that concludes the preceding section and transitions to what lies ahead.67 In verses 1 and 12, Paul uses ἄρα οὖν to focus on the eschatological ‘now’ that Paul believes characterizes the time and space of believers in Rome.68 Paul draws an inference from the previous paragraph where he has made a strict distinction between flesh and Spirit, but pushes it forward by pointing out that the brothers and sisters (ἀδελφοί) are in debt ‘not to the flesh’ but to the Spirit.69 Paul has used ἀδελφοί in strategic places to soften the obvious difficulty created by the fact that he has not visited the believers in the capital of the Empire and to bring his audience to his side in the argument.70 Paul uses the term ἀδελφοί at critical points in his argument where he feels the need to ground his statements in a feeling of mutuality and reciprocity, before advancing another point. The term of familiarity should not go unnoticed here.71 Paul wants to assure his readers that he believes them to be related to himself in certain ways. The term ἀδελφός describes relationships with a brother, sister, or a fellow in an association, guild or fraternity.72 Paul may have in mind the relationship that he derives from Judaism, where a ‘co-religionist’ may be identified by the term ‘brother.’73 67.  BDF 451 (2b), cf. BDAG, 2b, 127. Jewett, commenting on Romans 5.18; lists the other locations for places where this construction begins a sentence in Romans: 7.3, 25; 9.16, 18; 14.12, 19. In classical Greek it is not used in the same way. Paul uses the same formula immediately following 7.25 in 8.1 as well. (Jewett, Romans, 385). 68. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 448. 69. Jewett states, ‘… Paul appeals to his Christian ‘brothers’, members of house and tenement churches in Rome both male and female, who are part of the larger Christian family extending throughout the world, to recognize that they and he have no further obligation to the realm of the flesh.’ (Jewett, Romans, 493). 70. See Rom. 1.13; 7.1, 4; 9.3-4; 11.25; 12.1; 15.14; 16.7. 71.  Raymond Collins, The Power of Images in Paul (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2008), 186. 72.  LSJ, 20. BDAG, 18, lists two main possibilities: ‘a male from the same womb as the reference personally’ and ‘a person viewed as a brother in terms of a close affinity.’ See Philip Harland, Associations, Synagogues, and Congregations: Claiming a Place in Mediterranean Society (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2003), 30–3. Harland asserts, ‘… contrary to Meeks’s contention, the language of familial affection (e.g. “mother,” “father,” “brothers,” or “sisters”) does occur in connection with a significant number of associations (and in other GrecoRoman religious contexts) that do not involve actual families’ (Harland, Associations, 31). 73. Hans Freiherr von Soden, ‘ἀδελφός, κτλ.,’ TDNT 1, 143–6.



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Paul breaks off the sentence at this point.74 Rather than describe the indebtedness, he prefers to speak of the sphere of influence, or the entity itself, to which the believers are not indebted – the flesh.75 What should come next in the sentence is the idea that believers should be indebted to the Spirit. Paul, however, does not complete the thought. He prefers to allow his audience to arrive at the correct conclusion without assistance. Paul has used the term, ὀφειλέτης in Rom. 1.14, where he indicates to whom he has a debt: ‘I am a debtor to Greeks and barbarians, wise and foolish.’ This indebtedness spurs on his desire to visit Rome. As Jewett points out, in 1.14 Paul has articulated the ‘reversal of the social obligations of the Greco-Roman world.’76 Indebtedness and social obligation went together in the Roman Imperial context. Justinian discusses the legal context of indebtedness and obligation: ‘The essence of obligation does not consist in that it makes some property or a servitude ours, but that it binds another person to give, do, or perform something for us.’77 The term ὀφειλέτης is not widely used in the New Testament. In Paul’s letters, three of the four uses are in Romans. In addition to 1.14 and 8.12, there is a statement regarding the way in which Gentiles are indebted to Jews in Rom. 15.27.78 The only other use of the term is in Galatians 5.3, where Paul uses it in a pejorative sense: the one circumcised is a debtor, under obligation to perform the entire legal code, nullifying, thereby, the reality of the freedom of Christ (5.2). Found in the Synoptics, other uses of the term have a moral obligation in mind, or indebtedness to God that amounts to sin. This is the use found in the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew 6.12. In Luke 13.4, Jesus refers to those who perished with the fall of the Siloam wall as ‘debtors’ or, as the NRSV renders it, ‘offenders.’ The term does not appear in the LXX. The three common translations of ὀφειλέτης are ‘indebtedness,’ ‘debtor,’ and ‘one under obligation.’79 It is this last sense that Paul has in view. He uses the term with the present active infinitive ζῆν. This indicates that to which the debt is owed or must be paid. The genitive of the articular infinitive shows the result.80 Paul uses an economic metaphor to designate that for which one should not live. In addition to economic nuances, the Latin term debitor had religious and household connotations; ethicists emphasized obligations that were owed to the gods, to country, and to parents.81 Where Paul refers to an obligation in financial 74. Byrne, Romans, 246. Dunn, Romans1–8, 448. 75. Byrne points to this, as well (Byrne, Romans, 246). See also, N. T. Wright, ‘Romans’, NIB 10., eds. Robert W. Wall and J. Paul Sampley (Nashville: Abingdon, 2001), 595. 76. Jewett, Romans, 493. 77. Jewett, Romans, 493, quoting The Digest of Justinian, 44.7.3. 78. The verbal form (ὀφείλω) occurs in Romans 13.8, where Paul may be recalling the emphasis on love that he describes in Romans 12.9. In Romans 13.8, Paul emphasizes that the only thing believers should owe is love, one to another. 79.  LSJ, 1277. 80.  BDF, 400 (2). 81. Jewett, Romans, 493. Cicero, De Officis, 1.160, ‘Moreover, even in the social relations

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categories, the Roman Imperial context may have understood a direct obligation to a god.82 For example, Martial makes a vow that puts him under obligation in exchange for a divine blessing.83 Roman religious life and ritual regularly featured contractual obligation in the form of a vow to a god as a means of procuring divine benefit.84 While social obligation was certainly familiar in the first-century as a context for a debtor, there was a clear parallel on which Paul may be drawing that relies on the life of a slave within the Roman household. Paul’s use of the slavery metaphor has been identified and described above (Chapter 5). Slaves in Roman households were in debt. Slaves were sometimes given a peculium, the extension of money on behalf of the master. A peculium was given to allow slaves the courtesy of doing business on their own in service of their owner. This provided a level of economic flexibility for the paterfamilias.85 Within the Roman household, slaves and sons under patria potestas could still be afforded assets that remained in the technical ownership of the father. While they were unable to own anything, a father could allow a son or a slave to administer assets including money, goods, and other slaves.86 The father guaranteed any transaction that a slave entered into with the themselves there are gradation of duty so well defined that it can easily be seen which duty takes precedence of any other: our first duty is to the immortal gods; our second, to country; our third, to parents; and so on in a descending scale, to the rest.’ (Cicero, De Officiis, Miller: LCL). 82.  BDAG, 743 where there is a reference to the use of the term followed by an infinitive. In this sense, ‘we are not obligated to live according to the flesh.’ This is the way that Dunn translates the verse: ‘so then, brothers, we are under no obligation to the flesh to live in accordance with the flesh.’ (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 447). 83. Mart. 9.42.8; Cited in the OLD (1968), 487. This epigram of Martial demonstrates how the obligation may have worked: ‘So mayst thou, Apollo, be rich in plains of Myrina, so mayst thou always delight in hoary swans, so may thy learned Sisters serve thee, and thy Delphic priestess speak not falsely to any man; so may the Palace court and love thee, if, at thy asking, our kindly Caesar’s nod give quickly to Stella the twice six axes. Then I, happy, and a debtor for my vow, will bring thee a victim to thy rustic altar, a steer with gold-gilt horns. The offering is born, Phoebus: why dost thou delay?’ (Martial, Epigrams with an English Translation, trans. Walter C. A. Ker, vol. 2 (London: William Heinemann, 1920). 84. Mary Beard, John North, and Simon Price,  Religions of Rome Vol. 2, 231–3 for examples. 85. Westermann, Slave Systems, 16. Boaz Cohen has described the development of the peculium. Cohen states: ‘The huge conquests brought in … economic and social transformations, such as the rise of great fortunes, the necessities of commerce, and the increase of slaves. To [slaves] they began to entrust the exploitation of their rural property. Consequently, the ius civile which suited the small farmers, was inadequate to meet the requirements of the new economic system. Already in the time of Plautus it was customary to appoint slaves for certain business and thus the institution of peculium came spontaneously into being’ (Cohen, ‘Peculium’, 219.) 86. Alan Ferguson Rodger, ‘Peculium’, OCD, 11–30.



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peculium, and the father could call for money and any profit from a transaction at any time.87 As such, a slave experienced the peculium as a debt to the pater familias. The slave was not permitted to own anything legally.88 The same situation applied to the son of a paterfamilias.89 The son, while still under the potestas of the father, was not permitted, legally, to own anything. Everything in the son’s possession was simply an outgrowth of the peculium given to the son. This brought about a strange social situation in which an adult son with sons of his own was technically unable to own anything, and would have to operate with his father’s peculium.90 As in 8.4 Paul demonstrates his solidarity with his audience through the use of the first person and indicates that he and the Roman believers are under obligation.91 Paul interrupts his own sentence to clarify that believers are not under an obligation to live according to the flesh (οὐ τῇ σαρκὶ τοῦ κατὰ σάρκα ζῆν). As identified in Romans 7, the Gentile God-fearer thought the ‘flesh’ was an ultimately irredeemable element. Paul does not want his audience to think that they are still under obligation to the flesh. As Romans 8.1-11 has demonstrated, the Spirit now determines that divine life has been graciously given to the Roman believers.92 Romans 8.13: The choice between life and death Paul clarifies the reason why believers should not want such indebtedness or obligation. Living indebted to the flesh is actually a death wish: εἰ γὰρ κατὰ σάρκα ζῆτε, μέλλετε ἀποθνῄσκειν. Dunn notes that Paul is not characterizing an ‘unreal possibility’ for the Roman believers.93 Paul does not have in mind a situation 87. Rodger, ‘Peculium’, 1130. See also, Cohen, ‘Peculium’, 139 and Harrill, ‘Paul and Slavery’, 583. 88. Cohen, ‘Peculium’, 141. Harrill states, ‘… slavery is less a static institution of property law and more a dynamic process of total domination, an absolute kind of mastery that denies the slave access to autonomous relations outside the master’s sphere of influence – in effect, reducing the slave to an alienated outsider, socially “dead” to the free population. Slavery is defined as social death’ (Harrill, ‘Paul and Slavery’, 577). 89. John Crook, ‘Patria Potestas’, The Classical Quarterly (New Series, 17/1, May 1967), 113–22, 119. 90. Crook, ‘Patria Potestas’, 119. 91. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 448. 92. Fitzmyer, Romans, 492. Moo notes that ‘flesh refers not only to our physical, or “animal”, appetites; nor does it refer even to a “nature” within us. “Flesh” sums up what we often call “the world”: all that is characteristic of this life in its rebellion against God.’ Moo does not notice that in Romans, Paul has a further nuance to the term “flesh” that has gentile ethnicity specifically in mind (Moo, Romans, 494). 93. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 448. ‘(Verse) 12 shows that Paul has in mind no merely hypothetical or unreal possibility. The danger is real for his hearers: the switch to second person increases the note of warning; and the undiscriminating character of the address

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of perpetual futility, however. Having experienced new life in the Spirit, Gentile God-fearers now have every resource at their disposal to avoid the threat of falling into the wrong kind of debt. As so often in Paul, antithetical parallelism is used to reinforce the point.94 Life awaits those who, through the agency of the Spirit, put to death the practices of the body. The Spirit has a two-fold agency. On one hand, the Spirit will cooperate with ‘you’ to put to death the practices of the body. On the other hand, it appears that the agency of the Spirit will also bring about the conditions necessary for new life. The dichotomy between eschatological life and death has been a feature of Paul’s argument in Romans 7–8. Paul points out that the believers have died with Christ to the law (Rom. 7.16). The inescapable nature of the Gentile flesh brings a situation where Sin works death in the lives of those who have not experienced the eschatological Spirit (Rom. 7.7-25). The emphasis in Romans 8.13 is unexpected. Now Roman believers, suddenly infused with the eschatological Spirit of God, are called to ‘put to death the deeds of the body’ (εἰ δὲ πνεύματι τὰς πράξεις τοῦ σώματος θανατοῦτε, ζήσεσθε). No longer victimized by Sin’s power, Roman believers can anticipate new eschatological life because of the Spirit.95 This is the only use of the noun πρᾶξις in Romans. Paul uses the verb, however, in 1.32 where he concludes the Gentile vice list with the warning that ‘those who practice such things deserve to die.’ If the vice list in 1.18-32 is representative of the kinds of ‘deeds’ that Paul has in mind, (cf. the verb in Rom. 2.1 and the participles in 2.2 and 2.3), then the Gentile God-fearer is in Paul’s mind, once again, in connection with the kinds of ‘deeds’ that would characterize a Gentile apart from the life-giving Spirit. The term ‘body’ (σῶμα) qualifies ‘deeds’ rather than the expected ‘flesh’ (σάρξ). While the appearance of ‘body’ at this point might seem surprising, it fits within Paul’s overall scheme.96 At the end of Chapter 7, Paul’s God-fearing Gentile exclaims, ‘Who will deliver me from this body of death?’ (τίς με ῥύσεται ἐκ τοῦ σώματος τοῦ θανάτου τούτου;). It makes sense for Paul to use σῶμα when he describes the threat that he is encouraging the Roman believers to avoid. Putting to death the deeds of the body will end up producing life. indicates that he has in mind not merely inquirers or unbelievers (an evangelistic threat!) but believers as well … The μέλλετε clearly denotes not merely futurity, but the certainty of its happening, with the possible overtone of its pressing imminence and therefore urgency...’ 94. Käsemann, Romans, 225; Cf. Jewett, Romans, 478; Scott Brodeur, The Holy Spirit’s Agency in the Resurrection of the Dead: An Exegetico-theological study of 1 Corinthians 15,44b-49 and Romans 8,9–13 (Rome: Pontificia università gregoriana, 1996), 231; for more on the use of antithetical parallelism and Paul’s preaching patterns, see Nils Alstrup Dahl and Paul Donahue, Studies in Paul: Theology for the Early Christian Mission (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1977). 95. Fitzmyer, Romans, 493. 96. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 449. For an assessment of the interpretive options for Paul’s use of the term ‘body,’ see Jewett, Romans, 495.



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Paul treats the possibility of spiritual life as a natural conclusion for those who have discovered that their eschatological fate is no longer inextricably bound to physical ethnicity. No longer despondent and hopeless, the Gentile God-fearer is now in a position to embrace a new pattern of life fully oriented to the Spirit.97 Paul has already noted the kinds of behaviors that will merit the wrathful judgement of God. These are the practices that merit death (1.32). Romans 8.13 is an abridged version of some of Paul’s main points of emphasis in the letter. ‘If you live according to the flesh,’ Paul says, ‘you are about to die.’ (ει γαρ κατὰ σάρκα ζῆτε, μέλλετε ἀποθνῄσκειν). This is the logical outcome of chapter 1.18-32, as well as the reason for the desperate cry of 7.25. The statement of 7.9-10 is significant in this context: ‘when the commandment appeared, I died.’98 The second part of verse 13 anticipates what is to come. If the practices of the body are put to death (εἰ δὲ πνεύματι τὰς πράξεις τοῦ σωματος θανατοῦτε ζήσεσθε), there remains the possibility of life. Jewett notes ‘… the simple future verb employed at the end of the sentence, “you (pl.) shall live,” reinforces the impression that Paul believes the Roman churches are in fact able to renounce fleshly forms of behavior and continue to enjoy their new life in the Spirit.’99 The possibility of new life in the Spirit demonstrates God’s justice to the Gentiles as a result of Jesus’ faithfulness as an expression of the faith of all who believe (Rom. 1.16-17). Romans 8.14: The leading of the spirit as a key to new ‘family’ status Paul substantiates his claim for new spiritual life by stating that, ‘as many as are led by the Spirit of God, these have become children of God’ (ὅσοι γὰρ πνεύματι θεοῦ ἄγονται, οὗτοι υἱοὶ θεοῦ εἰσιν).100 Paul uses a dative of agency to indicate that it is the Spirit of God that is leading. Paul uses a unique construction (cf. Gal. 5.18) that emphasizes how believers may be ‘carried away’ by the Spirit’s power.101 Jewett 97. Dunn sees this, as well, but he does not fit Paul’s scheme into the context of the plight of the Gentile God-fearer. Instead, Dunn views Chapters 7–8 as the story of the believer over and against the unbeliever. The idea that the believer could have conceived of a life that still had the possibility of death because of their flesh is not a possibility for Dunn. His emphasis on the reality of this situation, as Paul describes it, is significant. Dunn states, ‘… the moral effort is now πνεύματι, by the Spirit, a realizable possibility only in the eschatological conditions of the Spirit poured out on all the heirs (cf. Gal. 4.1-7). The difference from 7.14-25 is that there the Spirit had not yet been brought into the picture.’ (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 449). 98. Jewett, Romans, 494. 99. Jewett, Romans, 494. 100.  LSJ, 1261. 101. Jewett, Romans, 496, Käsemann, Romans, 226, ‘A doctrine which is not afraid of the catchword “being carried off ” is the reverse side of the justification of the ungodly since it connects this with abiding in the reign of Christ in which as constant recipients we are under constant recipients we are under constant demands.’ See also, Dunn, Romans 1–8, 450.

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explains: ‘it is … appropriate to explain Paul’s formulation of being led by the Spirit as “being constrained by a compelling force, of surrendering to an overpowering compulsion,” which implies divine intervention into the decision-making process of the community, led by inspired leaders and tested by the inspired and transformed minds of the members (12.12).’102 Paul believes that the Spirit leads believers in a concrete way and is describing a new reality that encounters believers and to which believers respond. Two conditional possibilities govern whether or not Paul’s audience will participate in receiving new status as children of God. Paul is asking his readers to put to death the deeds of the ‘body of death,’ and he is asking that the Spirit lead them. If it were Paul’s intention to employ antithetical parallelism, he has missed a step in between verses 13 and 14. It might be expected that Paul would make another statement about the reality that would arise for those who are not being led by the Spirit. Instead, Paul moves directly from verse 13 to the point he would like to emphasize in verse 14. Those who put to death the practices of the body will live and be led by the Spirit, thus becoming children of God. The possibility of a new family status hinges on putting to death the practices of the body and the leading of the Spirit of God. Paul begins this paragraph by anticipating the emphasis on the family, when he issues the call for ‘brothers’ not to be indebted to the flesh. In verse 14, we see Paul’s reason for drawing a wide circle. Shifting to the second person plural, Paul states, ‘for you did not receive a spirit of slavery again to fall into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption in which (by whom?) we cry out “Abba, Father”’. The all-important piece is found in the second of the two statements. Paul states that his readers have not received a spirit of slavery, but they (notice the second person plural verbs) have received a spirit of adoption (υἱοθεσία). Paul then shifts to the first person plural, appending a clause that indicates agency, and points back to the idea of the Spirit’s leading, when he says, ‘by whom (in which) we cry out, “Abba, Father”.’ Paul links his own status as a child of God with that of the Roman Gentile congregation. The readers’ status as ‘sons/daughters of God’ is conditioned by the elusive category of ‘being led’ by the Spirit. Paul has asserted that living ‘according to the Spirit’ and putting to death the ‘deeds of the body’ are indispensable to the designation for children of God. Even if the Exodus narrative stands as one antecedent inspiring Paul’s construction, it might not have been easy for Paul’s Roman readers to appropriate the flaming torch and the guiding cloud as relevant to their own experience. Exploring other possible sources for semantic parallels, Jewett compiles a list of textual examples indicating that a spirit might actually lead a person. When Paul describes the experience of ‘being led’ by the Spirit, it is a distinctly Pauline contribution that reflects the notion of believers who may have felt carried away by the Spirit’s power.103 Magical texts also commonly use the 102. Jewett, Romans, 494. 103.  Dunn states: ‘At the same time, the most natural sense of ἄγεθαι with such a dative is that of being constrained by a compelling force, of surrendering to an overmastering



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verb ἄγειν to as a way of explaining how gods, spirits, or ghosts may target and lead a person according to the wishes of the practitioner.104 Paul has already announced that part of his mission is to ‘bring about obedience among the Gentiles’ (1.4, 5). Repeatedly, Paul has maintained that his gospel is not lawless (e.g. 2.13; 3.31; 6.1, 2). To be led by the Spirit, in some measure, must correlate with holy conduct.105 This is not a reason for boasting (Rom. 4), but it is the mark of the genuine people of God, even if some have behaved otherwise (cf. 3.3). The leading of God’s Spirit is a real leading, prompting both Dunn and Käsemann to note that Paul is not afraid to use these kinds of overtly active terms. Käsemann observes, ‘A doctrine of the Spirit which is not afraid of the catchword “being carried off ” is the reverse side of the justification of the ungodly since it connects this with abiding in the reign of Christ in which as constant recipients we are under constant demands.’ 106 Paul’s account of ‘being carried away,’ or ‘driven,’ perhaps even ecstatically, is focused on the experience of believers, rather than on the action of God. Within the community of believers, the Spirit may be experienced in these ways, but the experience itself is of secondary importance. What remains primary is the designation of status accorded to the Gentiles because of the Spirit’s indwelling power. God has validated God’s justice to the Gentiles by pouring out God’s Spirit (Rom. 5.5). It is the dispensation of the Spirit by God, received by Gentile believers and evidenced in the Spirit’s leadership, demonstrating that the new status has been granted. Verse 14 is the first sounding of the family theme at the most intimate level.107 As we have seen, Paul has used household metaphors previously in the arguments in Chapters 5–8. As the head of the household of faith, Abraham was presented as a paradigmatic figure in Romans 4. Images of slavery and marriage have already been used to strengthen the argument. Paul uses the term ‘brothers (and sisters)’ in Rom. 1.13 and elsewhere to show the intimacy of relationship that he compulsion (hence the NEB’s appropriate rendering “moved by the Spirit”); cf. 2 Tim. 3.6 with parallels in Aristotle, Plato, etc.’ (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 450). 104. Fitzmyer, Romans, 497–8; Jewett, Romans 1–8, 494–5. Jewett cites from the Papyri graecae magicae, ed. K. Preisendanz, 2 vols. Leipzig, 1928–31; v. 1, 97–9 where spirits either lead or are not followed. 105.  Dunn, for instance, notes that ‘[Paul] evidently understood the Christian life as an integrated balance between moral effort (v. 14) and yielding to deeply felt inward compulsions (cf. Gal. 5.16, 18)’ (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 450). Brendan Byrne makes the observation that it is the righteous power of God (Rom. 1.16, 17) that prepares all believers, both Jews and Gentiles for the eschatological life with God (Byrne, Sons of God, 88–9). Paul’s opinion is that ‘eternal life (the fullness of eschatological existence, participation in the world to come) is gained by righteousness, by being found holy and blameless by God at the judgement: the just inherit eternal life; the wicked face perdition. About this there is no dispute.’ (Byrne, Sons of God, 89). 106. Käsemann, Romans, 226. 107. Jewett, Romans, 496.

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believes exists between him and his readers.108 This term of intimacy introduces this section as well (8.12). Paul now moves to support his argument regarding the legitimacy of the Roman readers within the family of God, by showing how they have become sons and daughters of God. Romans 8.14 and the Imperial household Paul’s designation of his Gentile readers as ‘sons of God’ would have resonated loudly in the capital of the Roman Empire. Certainly, the notion of Israel as ‘sons of God’ would have been an antecedent for Paul; but everywhere Paul traveled in the Empire, images would have proclaimed Caesar as the ‘son of god’. Jewett emphasizes the point: ‘Heroes and rulers were celebrated as individual sons of god, and this formulation had a particular resonance to the Roman environment because of the civic cult. The Pergamon Altar celebrated Augustus as the “son of a god” (υἱὸν θεόν), and elsewhere he is called the son of Apollo, while Nero was celebrated as ‘Son of the greatest of the gods’ (τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ μεγίστου θεῶν), i.e. Tiberius Claudius.’109 Paul’s innovation in Romans is that he broadens the definition of who may be called a son of God by connecting the designation with God’s Spirit.110 The honour and status that Paul had envisioned as conferred on the Roman believers is the status of a child of God.111 Delaying the use of the adoption metaphor until this moment in the text has allowed Paul to explore other status-negative situations familiar to the Roman believers. Slavery, the dominant household image that Paul has developed to this point, has been evaluated and judged as inadequate. Slavery to sin leads to death. Living according to the Spirit brings freedom and life. Something more influential than freedom alone was in Paul’s mind. 108. The familiar term is used to draw the reader into the ‘in’ group I suppose. In his comment on 1.13, Cranfield says, ‘Compare 7.1, 4; 8.12; 10.1; 11.25; 12.1; 15.14, 30; 16.17. In all of these passages there seems to be an appreciable heightening of the sense of intimacy between Paul and those to whom he is writing.’ (Cranfield, Romans, 81). See, too, BDAG, 18, ‘A person who shares the same beliefs, a person viewed as a brother because of close affinity.’ Paul shows his readers that they are ‘closer than kin.’ This expression was given to me by Dr. Dennis Kinlaw, in a personal conversation as we discussed the nature of Paul’s argument to the direction that Paul is leading his readers. 109. Jewett, Romans, 496–7. 110. Jewett notes: ‘The innovation in Romans is to redefine sonship as derived from having received the Spirit of God, a theme that is driven home in the next verse. Sonship is thus Christianized and broadened beyond ethnic, familial, imperial, legalistic, and educational barriers. Whether this link between Spirit and divine sonship developed in pre-Pauline Christian baptismal rituals, or whether it is a distinctive contribution of Pauline theology, remains unclear’ (Jewett, Romans, 497) See also, Fitzmyer, Romans, 498. 111. Jewett, Romans, 497. Dunn notes the possibility that Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor may be related to traditional baptismal liturgies (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 451).



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Freed slaves were often relegated to client status, little better than a slave’s position.112 Paul envisions the highest status and the most significant designation. Not only are the believers accorded the status of family; they are called ‘sons (daughters) of God,’ a category reserved for the highest-ranking members of the Imperial family itself. Nero, Claudius, Caligula, and Augustus referred to themselves in these categories. It should be noted that Augustus’ grandsons, wives, and other imperial relations were divinized by the Roman Senate and through ritual enactment.113 While in Corinth, Paul probably would have seen the sculptural portraits of Gaius and Lucius in the classical nude style portraying their divinization.114 Paul’s audience would have understood the radical proposal that he was making in reference to their status. Within Roman society, specific obligations applied to persons of aristocratic, freed, and slave status. The aristocratic class consisted of senators, equestrians, and decurions.115 Augustus’ reformation began with the creation of new categories of status to increase the distance between highest and the lowest strata of society.116 Senators were required to possess property worth 1,000,000 sesterces and to have the highest moral character.117 Equestrians were required to maintain the 400,000 sesterces and to have high moral character.118 The increase of the senatorial requirement meant that Augustus reduced the senatorial class from around 1200 to around 600 in number.119 This increased the number of equestrians, but it also increased the separation between the top two aristocratic classes.120 Decurions made up the third aristocratic class. The decurions, like the senators and equestrians, were to be of noble birth, ample wealth, and high moral character.121 Garnsey and Saller point out that the decurions functioned at the municipal level where more flexibility regarding wealth and moral standing was necessary to keep civic offices filled.122 The decurions were to be made up of 112. J. Albert Harrill, The Manumission of Slaves, 4. 113. On the apotheosis of the Emperors as well as other Imperial figures, see Beard, North, and Price, Religions Vol. 2, 216–28 for description and examples. 114. Paul Zanker, Power of Images, 220. 115. Géza Alföldy, The Social History of Rome, 110. 116. Garnsey and Saller, The Roman Empire, 112. See also, Boaz Cohen, ‘La notion d’’ordo’ dans la Rome antique’, Bulletin de l’Association Guillaume Budé, (4th Series, 1975), 259–82), and S. Demougin, ‘Uterque ordo: les rapports entre l’ordre senatorial et l’ordre équestre sous les Julio-Claudiens’, Epigrafia e ordine senatorio, Tituli 4 (1982), 73–104). 117. Cassius Dio 56.41.3; Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 113; Fergus Millar, The Emperor in the Roman World: (31 bc–ad 337) (London: Duckworth, 1983), 290–300. 118. Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 113. 119. Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 113. 120. Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 113. 121. Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 114. 122. Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 115. Fergus Millar’s article, ‘Empire and City, Augustus to Julian: Obligations, Excuses, and Status’, The Journal of Roman Studies 73

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propertied individuals who were required to contribute to the public treasury upon their appointment to guarantee that tax payments were paid into the Imperial treasury.123 These three aristocratic classes represented the slimmest segment of the population. The rest of the population was made up of freedmen and slaves.124 A manumitted slave who became a freedman was still obligated to live out a patronclient relationship with their former owner.125 ‘There were … several degrees of Roman manumission ranging from full enfranchisement (Roman citizen) to partial (Junian Latin). A Junian Latin had the right to enter into Roman contracts (commercium) but neither the right to a recognized marriage (concubium) nor the capability to make or to inherit from a Roman will (testament factio). The creation of Junian Latins became common under the early Empire because of efforts to bar slaves from full Roman citizenship.’126 Paul would have been familiar with the notion that status was fluid.127 A slave, at the bottom of the social scale, might yet be a high-status individual because of their placement or work. Examples of these ambiguous status situations are found among the slaves of Caesar’s household, the familia Caesaris, who often maintained slaves of their own.128 Roman society depended on the clear demarcation of status in public. Social rank was displayed in the clothing of the various stations. Senators wore the wide purple stripe or latus clavus on the toga, along with special shoes.129 Equestrians wore gold rings and had a narrower band of purple on their togas.130 The demonstration of social rank played a key role in the Augustan reform (1983): 79–96 provides an extensive survey of the titles used and benefits that were granted to the senators, equestrians, and decurions. See also, Peter Garnsey, Social Status and Legal Privilege in the Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970), 242–3. 123. Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 115; Jean Gagé, Les classes sociales dans l’Empire romain (Paris: Payot, 1964), 163–5. 124. Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 115; J. Albert Harrill, ‘Paul and Slavery’, 575–607. 125. Harrill, ‘Paul and Slavery’, 580. 126. Harrill, ‘Paul and Slavery’, 581. 127. Consider 1 Corinthians 7.22, for example, where Paul states, ‘The one who was called in the Lord as a slave is a freedman of the Lord. Likewise the one who was free when called is a slave of Christ.’ See also, Martin, Slavery as Salvation, 1–22. 128. Harrill, ‘Paul and Slavery’, 577–8; Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, p.119; J. A. Crook, Law and Life of Rome (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1967), 188–9. Paul’s use of this phrase in Phil. 4.22 shows that he is familiar with the designation and the significance of those who are grouped in Caesar’s household. 129. Arnaldo Momigliano and Timothy J. Cornell, ‘Senate’, OCD, 1385–6. 130. Garnsey and Saller note that, ‘So strong was the association of rank with apparel that some unworthies at the beginning of the Principate usurped equestrian privileges simply by wearing a gold ring, prompting Tiberius’ regulations to restrict the rank to the deserving’ (Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 116). See Pliny, N.H. 33.32.



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centered on seating at public spectacles. Members of the aristocratic classes had special seats of privilege.131 Garnsey and Saller state that ‘putting everyone in his proper place was a visual affirmation of the dominance of the imperial social structure, and one calculated to impress the bulk of the population of the Empire. There were other displays of rank, such as the annual parade in Rome for equestrians, which Augustus renewed (Suetonius, Aug. 38.3; Cassius Dio 55.31.2), and the public banquets and distribution in the municipalities, at which the quantity of food or money was handed out in proportion to rank, not need.’132 The preeminence of the aristocracy made it easy to identify those on the bottom of the social scale in Rome. Even in cases where freedmen were able to generate immense wealth, they were never able to forget their servile origins, and were prevented from entering the aristocratic class. 133 Even those granted the right of free birth by legal decree were unable to separate themselves from their former servile status.134 The importance of status in Roman Imperial culture explains why the category of ‘free’ is not enough to support Paul’s claims regarding the new status of the Gentile God-fearer within the people of God. In order to convey the significance of the dispensation of the Spirit in the lives of those whom the Spirit leads, Paul must go beyond the status of a freed-person and announce that the Gentiles were no longer considered a sub-category. The Spirit’s arrival, in connection with the resurrection of Jesus, validated the Gentile believers as children of God. Being a child of God was the highest status available in the ancient world and a demonstration of God’s good news concerning Jesus, the Messiah. Romans 8.15: A spirit of slavery or a spirit of adoption Paul’s readers would have heard of other ‘so-called’ sons of God, but in this instance, with the addition of the adoption formula in verse 15, their attention would have been drawn to Paul’s plural use of the term. While there was more than one ‘son’ of a god in the ancient world, the list was not a long one. Alexander, Julius Caesar, and Augustus were the best-known, self-described divinities. As discussed earlier, Julius was more effusive with his divine self-advertisement than 131. See Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 117; Suetonius, Aug. 44; Claud. 21. 132. Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 117. 133. Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 120. 134. Garnsey and Saller, Roman Empire, 120, citing A. M Duff, Freedmen in the Early Roman Empire (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1928), 85–6. A. M. Duff remarks, ‘The newly freed slave had additional difficulties to face on entering free Roman society. Not only was he hampered by obligations to his former master, but in comparison with the free-born he found himself on a distinctly lower social plane, and he laboured under the many disabilities which were the heritage of his service days. Nothing, not the most unselfish patriotism, not the most enlightened public spirit, not the possession of new-won wealth, not even the friendship and confidence of an emperor, could wipe out the original stain of slavery’ (Duff, Freedmen, 50).

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was Augustus. At the beginning of his rise to power, Augustus called himself a ‘son of god’. Julius Caesar’s self-description included a genealogy that located his origins among the gods.135 After his adoption, Augustus used the formula ‘son of god’ to identify himself with Julius Caesar and Rome.136 When Paul used this phrase in reference to a group in Rome, he intended for them to react to its powerful resonance. Paul has fully played his hand. He has described the recipients of his letter as ‘sons of God.’ Using this phrase in connection with the Spirit, Paul has prepared his readers for his final piece of evidence demonstrating the legitimacy of the Gentile believer among the children of God. The leading of the Spirit is the condition and qualification of such an honorable status. Verse 15 substantiates the claim Paul has made by way of an appeal to the proof that he anticipates among the believing Gentiles in Rome. Paul composes verse 15 with antithetical parallelism: ‘You did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear; but you have received a Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, “Abba! Father!”’ Paul, employing the second person, hearkens back to the previous household context of slavery, asserting rather boldly, ‘you’ did not receive that kind of spirit. Rather, ‘you’ received a spirit of adoption that gives rise to the ‘Abba! Father’ cry. The most appropriate emotional response to the slavery metaphor that Paul has employed is a feeling of fear. εἰς φόβον is the result of living in bondage to sin (6.17-20) and is the result of a spirit of slavery. Paul intends for this to reverberate in two directions. The first direction is the one that follows from 6.17-20. If it is true that Paul’s Roman audience had ‘once presented [their] members as slaves to impurity and to greater and greater iniquity,’ they had, in fact, stored up for themselves quite a bit of God’s wrath.137 Fear is certainly the appropriate emotional response to such a state of affairs. Paul is familiar with the term φόβος in reference to God. Certainly Hebrew Scripture is familiar with the notion of having a fear of God.138 Isaiah 8.13 expresses it well: ‘But the Lord of hosts, him you shall regard as holy; let him be your fear, and let him be your dread.’139 The second echo that Paul intends for his readers recalls their way of life. Many, if not most, of Paul’s audience may have been connected to slavery through associations, relationships, and city life in general, while others were doubtless 135. Weinstock, Divus Julius, 85. 136. Walter Eder, ‘Augustus and the Power of Tradition’, The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Augustus, trans. and ed. by Karl Galinsky (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 13–32, 17. 137. Jewett notes this connection (Jewett, Romans, 498). 138. This idea should temper Dunn’s remark to the effect that the ‘fear’ that Paul has in mind is the result of a worry on the part of the believer that they will not be able to keep up with the law’s demands, and so, come up short. The ensuing shortcomings would diminish the opinion of the offender in the eyes of the group. Instead, the idea of ‘fear’ must be squarely set within the context of God’s wrath. (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 452). 139. Cf. Dt. 4.34; 26.8; Jer. 32.21, etc. Wanke, TDNT, Vol. 9, 201–10.



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slaves themselves. Trastevere, the most densely populated area of the city was the residence of many early Christians near the harbour where craftsmen, slaves, and all manner of dockworkers were housed.140 Fear dominated the relationship between a slave and master. Fear of punishment, execution, and the caprice of the owner always made the life of a slave tenuous and fearful.141 Writing about living conditions of slaves in the mill, Apuleius’ protagonist, in the form of a donkey, describes those who work around him: Good gods, what stunted little men they were! The whole surface of their skin was painted with livid welts. Their striped backs were merely shaded, not covered, by the tattered patchwork they wore: some had thrown on a tiny cloth that just covered their loins, but all were clad in such a way that you could discern them clearly through their rags. Their foreheads were branded, their heads half-shaved, and their feet chained. They were hideously sallow too, and their eyelids were eaten away by the smoky darkness of scorching murk until they were quite weak-sighted, they were dirtily whitewashed with a floury ash … The funereal example of my fellow-slaves made me fear for myself …142

Slaves were the property of their owners and were treated harshly when they disobeyed or when they were ill.143 Agricultural slaves, often kept in chains and held inside of a slave-barracks, could also be jailed or severely punished for a lack of effort in their labour.144 A slave faced a situation where the master could torture, kill, or dispose of him or her without social repercussion.145 Paul is certainly describing the situation of the slave in the first clause of Romans 8.15. The feeling that Paul creates does not even need a verb to complete its sense. Without the use of a verb to complete his thought, Paul rushes on to the conclusion of verse 15 and the critical piece of evidence in support of his claim that Gentile believers are now 140. Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus, 51. 141. Keith Hopkins, Conquerors and Slaves (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), 118. Hopkins states: ‘The mutual hostility of master and slave, which slavery inevitably evokes, showed through both collectively and individually. Between 135 and 70 bc, there were three major slave rebellions in Sicily and Italy, which were apparently fostered by the concentration and neglect of thousands of newly enslaved.’ See also, Erich Segal, Roman Laughter: The Comedy of Plautus (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1968), 137. For inscriptions and papyri related to slaves see S. R. Llewelyn’s A Review of the Greek Inscriptions and Papyri Published 1984-85, NewDocs 8 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing Company; 1998), 1–46 and Dunn, Romans 1–8, 458. 142. Apuleius, Met. 9.12, 13. (Apuleius, Hanson: LCL). See also Fergus Millar, ‘The World of the Golden Ass’, The Journal of Roman Studies 71 (1981): 63–75. 143. For a vivid description of punishments see Bradley, Conquerors and Slaves, 165–6. 144. Dennis P. Kehoe, ‘Landlords and Tenants’, in A Companion to the Roman Empire (ed. David Potter; Malden: Blackwell Publishers, 2006), 298–311, 301. 145. Segal, Roman Laughter, 102.

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regarded as possessing equal status with the Jews among the people of God. Paul states, ‘but you received a Spirit of adoption’ (ἀλλὰ ἐλάβετε πνεῦμα υἱοθεσίας). After stating that believers who are led by the Spirit now enjoy the status of God’s children, Paul describes just how this has come to be. Paul’s description begins with the negative assertion concerning the status of a slave, and ends with the impossibly good news that the Gentile God-fearers have been received into God’s family through a ‘Spirit of adoption’. Having established the ubiquity of the story of Augustus’ rise to divinity through his adoption by Julius Caesar, it would be understood that adoption resulting in a promotion to the rank of ‘son/daughter of God’ would be significant. That Paul asserts this new reality presumes that Paul himself ascribes tremendous significance to the metaphor. What has remained difficult for interpreters is the connection that Paul makes between ‘Spirit’ and ‘adoption.’ How would Paul’s readers have reacted to the contrast between the status of a slave and the new reality of adoption by way of the Spirit? Fitzmyer notes that, ‘Although the idea of adoption (hiothesia) is not derived by Paul from the OT – the word itself does not even occur in the LXX – the notion of adoptive sonship of Christians is a development of the OT idea of God’s election of Israel as his chosen people.’146 Fitzmyer notes Deuteronomy 4.34: ‘Did any God ever attempt to go and take a nation for himself out of the midst of another nation, by trials, by signs, by wonders, by war, by a mighty hand and outstretched arm, and by great terrors, according to all the Lord your God did for you in Egypt before your very eyes?’ The unique quality of the relationship between God and the nation of Israel is characterized as a relationship between a parent and a first-born son (Exod. 4.22). Fitzmyer’s observation, however, does not indicate how Paul arrived at the place where the Spirit could be connected to the idea of adoption. In his extensive investigation of the possibilities for a background for Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor in the Hebrew Scriptures, James Scott identifies 2 Samuel 7.14 as a possible Pauline antecedent. The establishment of the Davidic covenant, repeated in the Qumran literature and intertestamental literature, offers an adoption narrative for the promise in 2 Samuel 7.14, even though the term ‘adoption’ does not appear.147 Paul uses the Greek term, υἱοθεσία, as a contrast to the term δουλεία. The term itself has a basic meaning, ‘adoption as a son.’148 The prevalence of the term in inscriptions provides the social context in which Paul would have been exposed to 146. Fitzmyer, Romans, 497. Fitzmyer also cites Isa. 1.2, Jer. 3.19-22; 31.9; and Hos. 11.1. Fitzmyer states that the notion of ‘adoption’ is a Christian development but does not hazard a guess as to how, exactly, that notion finds a foothold in the Christian community. 147. Scott, Adoption As Sons, 102–7 where Scott identifies 4Qflor. 1.11 and Jubilees 1.24 as possible literary locations where adoption may be in view. 148.  LSJ, 1846. There is a term that is used to describe the process of adopting a daughter, as well. Of course, Paul could have chosen the term υἱοποιέομαι – ‘son making’. These terms are mostly found in Greek adoption inscriptions.



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the term and would have become familiar with its meaning.149 Moving from city to city in the Hellenistic world, Paul would have come upon the term as it was used in the ideology of the Roman Empire. Scholars have looked at the legal and cultural contexts for ‘adoption’ in the ancient world.150 Most commentators refer to Francis Lyall’s article on adoption where the antecedents in Roman law are described. Lyall admits that these references come from a later time, even though the presumption is that laws pertaining to adoptio and adrogatio were long established.151 Adrogatio, where a person who was not under his father’s Patria Potestas and was then brought under that of the adopter, seems to be the oldest form of adoption.152 Adoptio, Scott says, had a legal character that was more tightly defined as involving the transfer of a son from one man’s potestas to another’s.153 Drawing on Gellius and Gaius, both of whom wrote in the second century, Scott describes the processes involved in a ‘typical’ adoption. In cases of adrogatio, a full inquiry would be made to see if, in fact, the person involved was fully aware of the implications of the process and the result. After the inquiry, the magistrates, and possibly the pontifex maximus would ratify the adoption.154 Paul will use the term ‘adoption’ in Romans 9.4, 5 as he describes the unique relationship that God has with Israel. This use of the term, however, is at odds with the description of Israel in the Hebrew Scriptures. Thus, Romans 9.4, 5 does not provide a foundation for Paul’s argument in Chapter 8 as some interpreters assume.155 On the contrary, Paul’s use of the term ‘adoption’ (υἱοθεσία) in Romans 8.15 provides the basis for Paul’s appropriation of the metaphor in chapter 9. 149. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 45. Scott’s study is significant because it takes all of the terms that can describe adoption in ancient Greek and works through the documents where each term is used. 150.  As we have noted earlier, Byrne and Scott provide the most thorough examination of ‘adoption’ but both find the antecedents for Paul’s metaphor in a Jewish context. Fitzmyer briefly notes the significance of the adoption metaphor in a Roman context (Fitzmyer, Romans, 500). Jewett notes the connection between adoption and the new status of the Roman believers as ‘sons/daughters’ of God (Jewett, Romans, 498). 151. Francis Lyall, ‘Roman Law in the Writings of Paul: Adoption’, JBL 88 (1969): 458–66. 152. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 10. 153. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 11. 154. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 11. 155. This goes against the interpretation of Brendan Byrne who first discusses Romans 9.4, 5 and supposes that this provides the background for Paul’s adoption metaphor in Romans 8 and Galatians 4. See Brendan Byrne, Sons of God, 7982. Byrne cites Michel in support of the argument that in Rom. 9.4, 5 Paul is using an established tradition that links adoption with Israel’s status before God. Byrne notes that the terms that Paul uses in 9.4, 5 appear elsewhere in Paul but they are used in very different ways (Byrne, 82, citing O. Michel, Der Brief an die Römer (Göttingen: Meyer, 1966), 228).

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Brendan Byrne traces Paul’s argument in Romans 8.14-17 through the letter as a whole and arrives at the conclusion that υἱοθεσία has to do with the status granted to the children of God who are led by the Spirit.156 According to Byrne, the emphasis should be placed on the activity of God in the leading of God’s children.157 Status in the eschatological life and the prospect of avoiding God’s wrath are essential to Paul’s argument, but they are only parts of the whole. Paul is not only interested in the aspects of a believer’s life that pertain to the afterlife and God’s eternal judgement. In Romans, Paul’s overriding concern has to do with the inclusion of the Gentiles in the eschatological community of believers constituted in the world because of the poured out love of God with the giving of the Spirit. There is a future component to the adoption metaphor, as Paul understands it. Romans 8.23 indicates that Paul sees the future aspect of the metaphor in association with the eschatological judgement of God. However, Paul clearly identifies the reception of the Spirit with something that has already occurred. Paul uses the aorist verb ἐλάβετε to describe the experience of the Roman believers. It is the Spirit that spans this gap between the times. I have already noted in Chapter 3 that the adoption of Augustus by Julius Caesar had dramatic political, religious, and Imperial consequences.158 The adoption brought with it a new name, a new fortune, a new power, and most significantly for Paul’s purposes in Romans 8.15, a new family spirit or genius. The genius and lares of a family required care and attention, not to mention the strict observance of ritual.159 The primary function of an adopted member of the family was to secure the estate and facilitate the religious rites of the family in order to guarantee the blessing of the family by the family spirits.160 This is 156. Byrne, Sons of God, 98. 157.  Byrne states: ‘The strongly passive force of the ἄγονται responds in this way to the equally forceful πληρωθῇ of v. 4. All is God’s work – δικαιοσύνη θεοῦ, the working out of the sending of the Son. The definition of those who allow themselves to be led by the Spirit of God in this sense as “sons of God” is then intended as support for the ζήσεσθε... Sonship of God is not introduced simply as a further privilege of Christians … it is introduced precisely as a status that points towards eschatological life’ (Byrne, Sons of God, 98). 158. Scott points out that, ‘The most conspicuous example [of testamentary adoption] is the will of Julius Caesar adopting Octavius.’ (Scott, Adoption as Sons, 10). 159.  David Orr describes the family genius in detail but does not offer much in the way of comment regarding the specific domestic rituals associated with the offering made to the genius on the annual birthday of the paterfamilias. (Orr, ‘Roman Domestic Religion’, 45–83.) A later source, drawing on Varro, is Censorinus who notes that the worship of the genius ought to occur annually (Censorinus, 3.1). Censorinus also quotes Persius: ‘So, as the poet Persius said, “Mark this day with a lucky white stone”, which I hope you will do as often as possible and, as he added, “Pour out an offering of pure wine to your Genius.”’ (Censorinus 2.1, both translations come from Censorinus, The Birthday Book, trans. Holt Parker (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007). 160. Scott states, ‘In conformity with the purpose of their adoption, both types of adopted sons were obligated to perpetuate the nomen, the pecunia, and the sacrum of



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the reason why adoption required an inquiry by the pontifex maximus and the magistrates.161 The transfer from one family religious cult to another required care and attention. In order to confer blessing on the family, the paterfamilias was responsible for facilitating all of the offerings in the domus for the propitiation of the spirits. A lack of attention, or the absence of a person to perform the correct rites, was seen as a disaster.162 At his adoption, Octavian would have been charged with both the duty of caring for the estate of Caesar, as well as caring for his genius. As the family spirit of Julius Caesar was transferred to the care of Augustus, so too, the genius of Augustus was seen as a representation of the entire Empire. The family spirit of Augustus, the genius Augusti, began to merge in ritual identification with the genius populii Romani, the genius of the Roman people as a whole.163 Noting the identification of Augustus’ genius with the Roman people, Paul Zanker states: ‘the humble image of Augustus as the togatus making a sacrifice, however, does nothing to conceal the notion that he enjoyed divine powers. This is evident in the statuettes of his Genius, which were worshipped all over in public and private shrines.’164 Add to that the compital shrines to the lares and the genius Augusti in Rome, and it seems certain every person in Rome would have been familiar with the idea of Augustus’ family spirit and, therefore, of Augustus’ reception of that spirit by way of his adoption by Julius Caesar.165 When Paul uses this metaphor in 8.15, he is not merely indicating by what means the Gentile believers in Rome might have experienced a change in status only. Paul suggests that a much more substantive change is underway. The Spirit of Christ protected the believer not the genius Augusti. A change in divinities had occurred. The connection cannot be more clearly drawn than in the last clause of Romans 8.15. The cry of acclamation, ‘Abba, Father’ (Αββα ὁ πατήρ), not only appropriates a piece of Christian and, most likely, Jewish liturgy, but also appropriates the key honorific title given to Augustus and his successors. Thus, Romans the new family.’ (Scott, Adopted as Sons, 12). Anders Lisdorf describes the relationship between adoption and the perpetuation of the family sacrum. He states, ‘When a person was adopted in Roman republican times, he had to denounce the religious duties of his old gens and assume those of the new. These duties (gentilicia sacra) could be the observance of special days marked by rites, the care of holy places, or other private religious observances’ (Anders Lisdorf, ‘The Conflict over Cicero’s House: An Analysis of the Ritual Element in “De Domo Sua,”’ Numen 52/4 (2005): 445–64, 450). 161. Scott, Adoption as Sons, 11, citing Cicero, Dom., 34–8 and Gellius, NA 5.19.5. 162. According to Lisdorf, this is the most interesting aspect in Cicero’s speech, De Domo Sua. Clodius had not performed the rituals with the attention to detail that was required (Lisdorf, ‘Conflict’, 450). 163. Karl Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 301–2; Zanker, Power of Images, 129–30. 164. Zanker, Power of Images, 128. Zanker’s figure 110, featured on p. 134 is an Early Imperial ‘excerpt from a large sacrificial procession. Ministri of a sanctuary of the Lares carry the statuettes of both Lares and of the genius Augusti.’ 165. Galinsky, Augustan Culture, 300–3.

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8.15 must be read as proof for Paul’s claim in verse 14.166 In addition to being led by the Spirit, the cry of ‘Abba,’ serves to validate Paul’s claim, by furnishing evidence.167 Consideration of the common experience of the congregation that Paul was addressing furnishes the most compelling argument.168 It seems likely that the Roman believers would have connected Paul’s pronouncement of a new status conferred by the Spirit with their experience of a baptismal exclamation. Pointing to the plural verbs in the aorist, Käsemann says that verse 15 is to be connected to a liturgical event.169 Fitzmyer also connects verse 15 with a baptismal liturgy that results in a new status for Christians.170 Paul’s use of this phrase without explanation implies that it was universally understood among Christian communities beyond Palestine.171 Establishing the likelihood of a liturgical background for this exclamation is noteworthy because of the nature of the metaphor Paul uses to support his claim for Gentile legitimacy within the family of God.172 Paul states that believers 166. Against Dunn, Romans 1–8, 451. 167. Käsemann, Romans, 228. See also, See also Horn, Das Angeld, 409-12. Byrne agrees: ‘What believers have received is a Spirit that goes with or attests to the fact that they enjoy the filial privilege pertaining to the eschatological people of God. The proof that such is the case for believers is the content of the cry which the Spirit causes to well up within them: “Abba, Father.” Paul draws attention here to a phenomenon he clearly believes to be typical of the religious and possibly liturgical life of any Christian community’ (Byrne, Romans, 250). 168. Sigve Tonstad states: ‘Experience, billed by rhetoricians as the element least susceptible to rhetorical subversion, figures prominently at the beginning (Gal. 3.1-3) and the closing (4.6) of the “proof ” section of the letter. With the exclamation “Abba, Father!” Paul not only refers to experience, but succeeds in drawing his most powerful argument from the mouth of those whom he seeks to persuade’ (Sigve Tonstad, ‘The Revisionary Potential of “Abba! Father!” in the Letters of Paul’, AUSS 45/1 (2007): 5–18, 6). Tonstad also notes Hans Dieter Betz’s Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 30. 169. Käsemann, Romans, 227. 170. Fitzmyer notes, ‘When abba was taken up in Greek-speaking communities, it was not translated by the proper Greek vocative pater, but its literal Greek translation, ho pater, was added. The combination became a liturgical formula in Greek-speaking Christian communities’ (Fitzmyer, Romans, 500). 171. This point is mentioned by Eric Obeng in his article, ‘Abba, Father: The Prayer of the Sons of God’, ExpTim 99 (12/1988): 363–6, 365. Obeng continues, ‘If it [the Abba cry] was not known, it would have remained an enigma to Paul’s readers. Paul also supposed that all Christians use it since he refers to it as proof of their sonship. The change from the second to the first person plural – Rom. 8.15, elabete … krazomen, and Gal. 4.6, este huioi… eis tas kardias hemon, strengthens this view that “Abba, Father” was in usage everywhere, not in Palestine alone.’ 172. Gal. 3.27-29 suggests such an initiatory ritual. See also, Wayne A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians, 87–8.



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received a ‘Spirit of adoption’ when they uttered the cry at the moment of baptism. Paul may be suggesting that a change in status has occurred at this specific point in time. God grants a new adoptive status to believers who participate in baptism. With the construction as it stands in 8.15, however, Paul communicates something more. Moving from slave status to child status will be pivotal in achieving the recognition of a new identity. Fitzmyer, too, recognizes the crucial role that the Sitz im Leben plays in Paul’s assertion, communicating not just of a status change, but the real, substantial impact the Spirit will make in the lives of these believers. The Spirit has enabled the ‘Abba!’ cry, and thus, the Spirit is its own witness.173 A new adoption confers a new status that has been brought about by a new Spirit. The Spirit of Christ now gives the believer the unction to acclaim God as Father in a different way than was afforded the rest of the citizens of Rome. The ‘Spirit of adoption’ is a real divine Spirit that grants status, power, and life to the believer because of the new relationship with God that the Gentile believer has been granted. Paul is able to communicate all of the nuances of this theme to the Gentile believers in Rome because they have the Roman Imperial narrative at their disposal – indeed; they are surrounded by it every day. The Roman Imperial context makes the best sense of Paul’s use of the phrase. With this piece of evidence, Paul’s imagery has remained within the context of the household. His use of the household as the social location for his argument reaches a logical climax. Beginning with Abraham, forefather of all the faithful, Paul works out the ramifications in Romans 5, securing the argument that Jews and Gentile believers have become equal members in the household of faith, because of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Throughout Romans 5–7 Paul has used slavery as a domestic metaphor for a life lived according to the reality of Gentile flesh. Sin dominated Gentile existence, but because of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead and the gift of God’s Spirit, Sin has been defeated and the grace of God has abounded. This liberation grants a new status, which Paul expresses in terms of adoption. God has done the unthinkable. Grace has ‘superabounded’. Believers enjoy the status and the power that goes along with being children of God. The status that had belonged to only a few according to Roman Imperial ideology has now been extended to all, including many of those who were at the bottom of the social scale. Paul argues that the Gentile believer had proof of his new status at the ready. According to Paul, the moment when the baptismal liturgy was rehearsed, the new adoptive Spirit was already at work to guarantee a new status and to sever the devastating consequences of Sin. A new adoptive spirit, granted at baptism, made all the difference. Romans 8.16: A Witness There is no connective particle that clarifies the syntax between verses 15 and 16. The emotional tenor of these verses may explain why Paul feels no 173. Fitzmyer, Romans, 501.

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need to explicate the kind of connection he envisions.174 If the Spirit can be the agent that leads the son or daughter of God, the Spirit, too, can provide a testimony or witness concerning new status.175 This interpretation strengthens the hypothesis that, when Paul alludes to the baptismal liturgy he is attempting to provide proof of the Spirit’s arrival.176 Paul describes the agency of the Spirit in verse 16 as ‘bearing witness’ with ‘our spirit.’177 Paul states that when the Roman believers make this claim, it results from the fact that they have received the πνεῦμα of God. This reception also results in a change of status from slave to child.178 How is Paul able to ascribe such a change of status to believers, many of whom he has never met? Paul has experienced such proof himself. Paul switches back and forth from the first to the second person in Romans 8.12-17. Paul returns to something that he feels he holds in common with the Roman believers: the ‘Abba’ cry. Now Paul can claim that it is the same Spirit that witnesses to the adoption proceeding and confers a new family status (αὐτό τό πνεῦμα συμμαρτυρεῖ τῷ πνεύματι ἡμῶν).179 The Spirit functions in two ways. The Spirit both constitutes adoption within the family of God and also brings awareness of this new status to the baptized person who makes the ‘Abba’ confession.180 The Spirit facilitates the adoption, bears witness to the new status for children of God, and then establishes the rights of the children of God to be inheritors. This prepares for verse 17, which has a conditional element. Suffering with Christ will result in an inheritance and glorification with Christ. To this point in the discussion, adoption has been treated as a metaphor. The implication is that an adoption by God could not be envisioned as real. Most 174. Examples of asyndeton in Romans, see BDF, 463; Dunn, Romans 1–8, 454. According to Moo, while ‘this verse is not connected syntactically to v. 15 … its function, clearly enough, is to explain how it is that “receiving the Spirit of adoption” enables us to cry out “Abba, Father!” The Holy Spirit is not only instrumental in making us God’s children; he also makes us aware that we are God’s children’ (Moo, Romans, 503). 175. Fitzmyer, Romans, 501. 176. Käsemann, Romans, 227–8. 177. Jewett is the only one to advocate for an interpretation of the second instance of ‘spirit’ as part of the divine Spirit that has been apportioned to believers (Jewett, Romans, 500). 178. Jewett, Romans, 500. 179. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 454. Käsemann emphasizes that this ‘witness’ is certainly not another way of describing human insight. ‘Paul has in view the situation of worship, not a process in the soul.’ (Käsemann, Romans, 228.) 180. Fitzmyer discusses this two-fold significance: ‘The preceding context makes it clear that the vital dynamism of the Spirit constitutes the sonship itself and at the same time bestows the power to recognize such status. Now Paul goes further and stresses that the Spirit concurs with the Christians as they acknowledge in prayer or proclamation this special relation to the father’ (Fitzmyer, Romans, 501).



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commentators operate under the assumption that Paul is proposing a relationship of fictive kinship to Gentile believers.181 Johnson-Hodge does not use these same terms in her analysis of the idea of kinship.182 She identifies what Paul has done here in terms of a ‘new kinship’ and states that, ‘by presenting baptism as new kinship, Paul crafts a myth of collective identity for gentiles; they can trace their beginnings not only to their baptism into Christ but also to their ancestor, Abraham, in whose seed they were blessed. Baptism into Christ creates an aggregative connection between gentiles and Jews.’183 JohnsonHodge begins by calling the status that Paul describes a ‘new kinship’; but in the next sentence, she calls it a ‘myth’.184 The assumption is that the use of the adoption metaphor communicates something for Paul’s reader that is mythic, fictive, or unreal. Paul, however, is not encumbered by a dualism between matter and spirit that would render his notion of the status of believers as unreal, fictive, or mythic. While there was no process whereby God actually came and adopted believers, baptism provided a concrete experience of God’s presence in the liturgy. It seems likely that Paul conceived of the Spirit and the new reality that believers experienced as co-heirs with Christ in baptism as ‘real,’ and not merely metaphorical.185 Troels Engberg-Pedersen shows that Paul’s notion of ‘Spirit’ is not to be understood in a modern sense.186 The modern view, shaped by Aquinas, Descartes, and Kant, understands spirit in opposition to matter. Paul’s understanding, however, was not modern. Engberg-Pedersen traces Paul’s understanding of spirit to the Stoic idea where the spirit has a material component in the same way as fire, water, and earth.187 Paul may think that the Roman believers have actually received another divine ‘substance’ that transforms them into a different (and in some measure divine) nature as sons and daughters of God. Romans 8.17: Fellow heirs in glory Paul uses 8.17 as a transitional verse drawing a conclusion from the material that has preceded it and identifying the result of adoption for his readers. They will 181. Jewett, Romans, 498. 182. Johnson-Hodge, If Sons, then Heirs, 67. 183. Johnson-Hodge, If Sons, then Heirs, 67. 184. Johnson-Hodge states, ‘By presenting baptism as new kinship, Paul crafts a myth of collective identity for gentiles; they can trace their beginnings not only to their baptism into Christ but also to their ancestor, Abraham, in whose seed they were blessed. Baptism into Christ creates an aggregative connection between gentiles and Jews’ (Johnson-Hodge, If Sons, then Heirs, 67). 185. Peppard emphasizes this point by showing how an adopted adult son may have been preferred to a natural son by reason of competence. (Peppard, Son of God, 51–2). 186.  See Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 12-15, for example where the modernist philosophical notions of Paul’s worldview are observed through the lenses of Rudolph Bultmann and Ernst Käsemann. 187. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 17. See Martin, Corinthian Body, 132.

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enjoy the status of children of God, along with the benefits of inheritance. Paul’s assurance substantiates the power of the adoption metaphor. As stated previously, Augustus’ influence, wealth, and power along with that of his successors was tied to the event of his adoption. Paul asserts the status of his Roman readers to be ‘children of God’ and spiritual descendants of Abraham (Rom. 4). The children are thereby heirs of God and co-heirs with Jesus. Inheritance is a powerful concept in Judaism and is connected to the prophetic understanding of deliverance in the end-time. Isaiah 57.13 and 65.9 both ascribe inheritance to God’s people. The prophetic eschatological narrative may be the antecedent for the connection that Paul makes between the Spirit and inheritance.188 In 1 Corinthians 6.9-10 he writes, ‘Do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived! Fornicators, idolaters, adulterers, male prostitutes, sodomites, thieves, the greedy, drunkards, revilers, robbers– none of these will inherit the kingdom of God.’189 Immediately following this statement regarding those who would not be eligible for inheritance, Paul states that those who were washed, sanctified, and justified in the name of the Lord Jesus and ‘in the Spirit of our God’ would be destined for a share in the kingdom (1 Cor. 6.11). In typical fashion, Paul uses a syn prefix in order to link the inheritance of Jesus with the inheritance destined for all those identified as God’s children.190 The Gentile believer, as an adopted child of God, is given the right to inherit the father’s estate even though he has no natural claim.191 The adjective συγκληρονόμος in verse 17 implies a joint inheritance between the Roman Gentile believers and Jesus himself. Philo uses the noun form to emphasize the reason why a Jew charges interest from a foreigner but not from a ‘brother’.192 In this case, Philo uses the term to describe the relationship between an ethnic Jew and another ethnic Jew to the exclusion of the Gentile. The Jew avoided the social stigma of charging interest by describing the Jew as a ‘brother,’ that is, as part of the family. Sirach 22.23 uses the term in a similar way: ‘Gain the trust of your neighbour in his poverty, so that you may rejoice with him in his prosperity. Stand by him in time of distress, so that you may share with him in his inheritance’ (ἵνα ἐν τῇ κληρονομίᾳ αὐτοῦ συγκληρονομήσῃς). Paul employs the adjective συγκληρονόμος in an unusual way, in view of these two examples from Judaism. Paul has radically redefined what it means to be a child of God and has 188. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 455; Jewett, Romans, 501. 189.  Cf. 1 Cor. 15.50; Gal. 4.7; 5.21; Ep. 1.14; 5.5; and Tit. 3.5-7. On this aspect of Paul’s pneumatology, see J. S. Vos, Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zur paulinischen Pneumatologie (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1973), 26–33. 190.  Jewett states, ‘“Joint heirs” belongs with a group of at least fourteen syn- compounds that Walter Grundmann has identified as expressing the dimensions of the “with Christ” language developed by Paul …’ (Jewett, Romans, 502; see also, Walter Grundmann, ‘σὺν Χριστῷ in Paul’, TDNT 7, 784–94, 786–7). 191. Fitzmyer, Romans, 502. 192. Philo, De spec. leg., 2.73 from Philo, The Works of Philo: Complete and Unabridged, trans. C. D. Yonge (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1995), 575.



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redrawn the lines of inheritance to include those who had never been classified as God’s heirs.193 The notion of inheritance also has broad significance in the Roman Imperial context where the paterfamilias was solely responsible for the disposition of the estate.194 Roman testators had considerable flexibility in regard to the succession of their estates.195 Roman aristocrats had the power to dispose of up to threequarters of their estates, construct kinship ties, and dissolve family bonds.196 This unique combination of elements makes the comparative failure of the nobility to perpetuate itself so intriguing.197 If a Roman died intestate, the nearest male relative received the property, beginning with children, grandchildren, or a wife, and moving to the closest male relative and finally to a family of the same nomen.198 Although the Roman paterfamilias was free to leave three-quarters of his estate to whomever he wished, it was still customary to provide for the family and one’s own children in the distribution of the estate.199 Roman law provided elaborate and flexible legal options for testators that allowed for almost any eventuality.200 The high mortality rate alone made testators creative when adjudicating between family members.201 Paul determines that the inheritance has been reworked to include those who had not been part of the original agreement. Now the Gentiles may be included with the Jews as fellow-heirs with Jesus. With Fitzmyer and (somewhat) against Jewett, the particle εἴπερ in 8.17 must be seen in a slightly different way than in 8.9.202 The idea of suffering comes as a surprise, but its connection with glory points forward in time. As such, εἴπερ should be taken as ‘if indeed,’ or ‘if, in fact.’203 As Paul understands it, suffering in 193. For more on Paul and inheritance, see James C. Walters, ‘Paul, Adoption, and Inheritance’, in Paul in the Greco-Roman world: a handbook, ed. J. Paul Sampley (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 2003), 42–77. On the notion of the inheritance of children, rather than only ‘sons,’ see, Greg H. R. Horsley, New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity. [Vol. 2], A Review of the Greek Inscriptions and Papyri Published in 1977 NewDocs, vol. 2 (Sydney: Macquarie University, 1982), 97 and Dunn, Romans 1–8, 455. 194. Saller, Patriarchy, 161. The Greek term ‘testament’ was the same word used to communicate the idea of a covenant as Gal. 3.15-18 demonstrates. 195. Saller, Patriarchy, 161–2. 196. Saller, Patriarchy, 162. 197. Saller, Patriarchy, 162. ‘More than two-thirds of old Roman consular families were replaced by new ones in each generation, an astonishing rate of disappearance …’ 198. Saller, Patriarchy, 163. In regard to ancient intestate law see Alan Watson, Rome of the XII Tables: persons and property (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975). 199. Saller, Patriarchy, 168. 200. Saller, Patriarchy, 166. 201. Saller Patriarchy, 167. 202. Fitzmyer, Romans, 502; Jewett, Romans, 502. Jewett interprets this verse in light of the status that has already been granted by God. 203. Fitzmyer, Romans, 502; cf. BDF 454.2; Jewett, Romans, 502. Jewett must go back to the preposition syn– in order to tie the εἴπερ to the past suffering of the Romans and read

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conformity to Christ’s suffering, or suffering attributable to Christ, is ground for being glorified with Christ. In Philippians 3.10, 11, Paul does not use exactly the same terminology, but a similar thought is involved: ‘I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.’ Paul sees conditionality associated with the transition from suffering and death to glory and resurrection but this is not clearly defined.204 Does Paul have in mind suffering that is a consequence of the gospel, or does Paul consider the suffering that is naturally a part of life in the physical body as having the consequence of glory and resurrection? Verse 18 helps to a certain extent. Paul simply says, ‘I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us.’ Of what character is the suffering that Paul has in mind? Paul’s statement in verse 23 may connect suffering with the growth of redeemed bodies that are being prepared for the full adoption as children of God. Engberg-Pedersen notes that Paul may mean that the beginnings of adoption occur with the cry of baptism when the Spirit comes to create a new spiritual body within the believer. Then, at some future point, the full measure of adoption will be revealed. Gaining eschatological glory at the resurrection is related to the reception of the Spirit in baptism that becomes a pledge that the baptized will be conformed to Christ’s image, even through present suffering.205 Romans 8.14-30 indicates that, in the midst of present suffering, Roman believers have received a Spirit (body) that will bring them into conformity with Christ and allow them a share in the glorification with Christ (Rom. 8.17, 29).206 If this is correct, Paul’s idea of suffering, both for the believer as well as for the creation, is one of growth, labour, travail, as well as persecution, trial, and eschatological tension. For Paul, the suffering of creation is tied to the full revelation of the children of God, and this, unquestionably, is a birth/labour image. The ‘first-fruit’ offering of the Spirit may be the impartation of the Spirit and the reception of the Spirit at baptism. The subsequent growth of the believer provides the context for anticipation of the full revelation of adopted, fully-matured, children of God.207 The idea that creation, along with those who are to be fully revealed as God’s adopted children would participate in suffering, goes firmly against the grain of it as ‘since.’ Jewett’s proposal helps coordinate the suffering against a temporal backdrop that makes more sense. As it stands, the idea of suffering seems to come up unannounced. 204.  See the possibilities for the connection between suffering and Jesus’ divine sonship in Peppard, Son of God, 128–31. 205. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 53. 206. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 53. 207. Dunn agrees with the idea that ‘first fruits’ may signal a birthing metaphor: ‘The sense of ἀπαρχή as “birth certificate” of a free person (suggested as a possibility by LSJ and BGAD) has an apparent attractiveness in view of the other birth metaphor in v. 22 but in fact would throw the thought in some confusion – a birth certificate already issued while the birth travail is still in progress!’ (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 474).



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Virgil’s promise of a golden age, where suffering would be a thing of the past.208 Paul’s use of the term ‘bodies’ in 8.23 is striking in that it has no pejorative sense here. Connected with adoption and redemption, the ‘body’ Paul has in mind may be the fully developed eschatological body of the believer. The term ‘body’ is in the singular, while the modifier ‘ours’ is in the plural. The resolution of any eschatological tension is found in the notion that believers are to nurture and develop these spiritual bodies, as sons and daughters of God, until the revelation is complete. The adoption, then, would be complete but is still awaiting maturity.209 Drawing together the pieces that have characterized 8.12-17, it is clear that Paul’s idea of the ‘spirit of adoption’ makes complete sense when viewed against a Roman Imperial backdrop. Paul is assuring his readers that they are members of the family of God in a way that moves them from the edges of the family (slaves and clients) to the center of the family unit (sons, daughters, and heirs). Several elements of Paul’s argument fit nicely within this family picture. Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor in verse 15 and his use of birthing language in verse 23 also fit with the notion of the new spiritual birth evoked by the baptismal cry of ‘Abba! Father!’ Paul’s invocation of this piece of liturgy is to be heard as an affirmation of an experience that Paul shares with his readers. At baptism, Roman believers said these words. The ability of Gentile believers to say these words demonstrates that they have received the Spirit. The Spirit guarantees the Gentile believer’s new status and frees them to leave behind a spirit of slavery. The juxtaposition of the adoption image and the new status as a son or daughter of God would have made an impact on Paul’s Roman readers. It would have echoed back to the practice of Imperial succession and would have evoked the adoption of Octavian by Julius Caesar. When Paul adds that the believers have received a ‘spirit of adoption’, the case is secured. Every person in Rome was acquainted with the ‘spirit of adoption’ that had come upon Octavian at his official adoption. Octavian had, in fact, used this image as a way of solidifying his position. Upon his adoption, Octavian had received the spirit of Julius, Julius Caesar’s genius, as his own. This spiritual protector and life force, unique as it was to the Julian family, became identified with that of the entire Empire. It was worshipped on every street corner in Rome and the divine protector of Augustus was regarded as the divine protector of the Roman people. Could this have been Octavian’s ‘spirit of adoption’? Paul’s readers would have understood his language at this point in much the same way. Being adopted as a child of God was no longer an event restricted to emperors and ratified by the senate. Now that the adoptive 208.  Jewett remarks, ‘Although commentators note that the sufferings to be experienced by the saints in the eschaton was a traditional motif, they tend to overlook the contextual implications that this formulation would have had for the Roman believers who had already experienced harassment and deportation and whose everyday life as members of the Roman underclass was anything but idyllic. Paul’s formulation simply assumes, without arguing the point, that the Caesarean view about the presence of a peaceful, magically prosperous golden age is illusory’ (Jewett, Romans, 509). 209. Peppard, Son of God, 138.

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status and, more importantly, Christ’s attending Spirit, were available to every one of Paul’s readers, Gentile or Jew, a new and powerful reality made them co-heirs as well. This is the thought that will push Paul’s argument to his next point of emphasis. Conclusion Paul derives his metaphor for adoption from the Roman Imperial context. The new spirit of adoption Paul describes is not a part of the Roman Imperial ideology, nor is it related to anyone in the Roman Imperial context. Instead, the Spirit of adoption comes as a result of the work of Jesus Christ and is offered as a result of his sacrificial death and glorious resurrection. It is the Spirit that enables one to make the ‘Abba!’ cry, and it is also the Spirit that brings a new inheritance. This is the reality that Paul has envisioned for the Gentiles in Rome from the beginning. Paul makes the argument in a way that would have resonated with his readers’ familiarity with other ‘spirits’ of adoption that operated at the center of the Empire.

Romans 8.18-30: The future aspect of the present adoption The themes in Romans 8.1-17, and especially the development of the notion of the status of children of God in 8.12-17 as revealed and demonstrated by the Spirit of adoption, figure prominently in 8.18-30. Paul has successfully argued the case for the full inclusion of the Gentiles in the family of God. In a single paragraph, Paul has asserted family status, substantiated it with his reminder to the Roman believers that they have received the Spirit of adoption, and has demonstrated his claim with the evidence of the ‘Abba!’ cry. Not only has Paul asserted the family status of the Gentiles, but he takes the additional step of expanding the inheritance to include the Gentiles. The critical features of the narrative of God’s covenant with Israel have been applied to the Gentiles. All of the benefits afforded to Gentile believers in Rome have been provided by the Spirit because of Jesus’ one act of righteousness (Rom. 5.6). There are indications in this first paragraph after Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor and his announcement concerning the status of Gentile believers that he considered Romans 8.12-17 to be of crucial significance to the overall argument of the letter. Many of the themes that had been announced in Romans 1 and the terms that Paul used in Rom.ans 8.12-17 recur in Romans 8.18-30. There are direct references to Romans 8.1-17 that also figure prominently in this segment. Paul emphasizes the suffering and the glory that await believers in 8.18-23, as he points back to the reference to suffering and glory in 8.17. Paul ends this section with a note of anticipated glory, as well, in verse 30.210 The freedom that 210. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 475; Peter von der Osten-Sacken, Römer 8 als Beispiel paulinischer Soteriologie (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1975), 138–42.



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Paul announces in 8.2 and his cautionary warning about falling back into slavery in Romans 8.15, are emphasized in 8.21, as freedom is connected with the new status of children and the anticipated reception of the glory of God.211 The new family status for the Gentiles that Paul announces in Romans 8.12-17 is discussed once more in 8.18-25 in connection with the same adoptive process. God’s purpose for new sons and daughters, Paul claims, is that they be ‘conformed to the image of [God’s] Son, in order that he [Christ] might be the first-born within a large family.’ Once more, Paul has reminded the Gentiles that their status is critical to the intention of God. Paul’s gospel announces that God is unwilling to be the Father of an only Son. While the specific language of resurrection is not found in Romans 8.18-30, specific references that seem to point to resurrection life are described as ‘freedom from decay’ (Romans 8.21) and ‘redemption of our bodies’ (Romans 8.23).212 It is significant; however, that Paul does not specifically use resurrection language in this section. Instead, Paul uses language that relates the Spirit to the creation. Those who have the ‘first-fruits’ of the Spirit have a foretaste of what the full measure of spiritual existence may look like.213 Using the language of childbirth, Paul believes that the growth of the Spirit, now released in the world, will have a redemptive and restorative influence on the cosmos.214 The accent that Paul places on the social location of the domus continues to play a significant role. ‘Labour pains’ must certainly go along with the normal connotation of childbirth, even if the image of childbirth may be associated with

211. Fitzmyer, Romans, 505. 212. Jewett, Romans, 519. Jewett states, ‘Paul does not hope for “redemption from the body”, or as the peculiar singular reference to “body” seems to suggest, for a resurrection of the body in some individualistic sense of being detached from the creation and its corruptibility, but for a socially transformed corporeality within the context of a transformed creation that is no longer subject to “corruption”’ (Jewett, Romans, 519). 213.  LSJ, 180, states that ἀπαρχή can mean the ‘beginning of a sacrifice, primal offering’, or the banquet that results. It is used to describe the ‘firstlings for sacrifice’ or offerings, the ‘first-fruits.’ Apart from sacrificial connotations, the term can be used metaphorically to describe the beginning of wisdom, a tax on an inheritance, entrance fee, board of officials, or even as the ‘birth certificate of a free person.’ See also, Gerhard Delling, “ἀπαρχή,” TDNT 1, 484–6, 484. 214. Fitzmyer states, ‘He (Paul) seems to borrow a mode of expression from contemporary Greek philosophers who often compared the vernal rebirth of nature to a woman’s labour. Thus Heraclitus Stoicus, “When [after the winter’s cold] the groaning earth gives birth in travail to what has been formed within her”’ (Fitzmyer, Romans, 509). The idea that Paul may be indicating a growth in spirit in between 8.15 and 8.23 has not been sufficiently explored. Käsemann points to two eons – the present and the coming glory, rather than conceptualizing the two as overlapping and developmental (Käsemann, Romans, 232). Dunn relates the ‘overlap’ in the ages to the Spirit and connects the notion of the ‘first-fruits’ to the idea of the harvest (Dunn, Romans 1 –8, 473).

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Stoic philosophy and the rebirth of the creation.215 If Paul’s use of the term πνεῦμα demonstrates a connection with the cosmology and anthropology of Stoicism, a connection with Stoic philosophy in relation to the image of child bearing is not entirely surprising. In Romans 8.10, Paul states that, even though the body is ‘dead because of sin,’ Christ ‘in you’ will bring the Spirit as life ‘because of righteousness.’ This does not indicate that Paul had a physical death in mind. Obviously his audience is physically alive. The passage indicates that Paul thought of the arrival of the Spirit in terms of another spiritual body that lives, while a physical body remains as good as dead.216 The spiritual body that Paul anticipates for Roman believers in Romans 8.28-30, like that of Phil. 3.21, is a spiritual one that can be conformed to the image of Christ.217 Paul argues for a developmental aspect to the spirit of adoption in Romans 8.18-30.218 The Spirit participates in the lives of God’s adopted children to comfort a yearning creation (Rom. 8.19) and to guarantee the future redemption of the body (Rom. 8.23). The Spirit helps with human weakness in the meantime (Rom. 8.26-27). The Spirit of adoption, verified by the community in baptism, nurtures and sustains believers. The Spirit that is now at work will be fully revealed in a bodily way (Rom. 8.23). This allows for both a present and a future element for Paul’s use of the adoption metaphor.219 The Spirit that grants a new status for Gentile believers functions to bring them to a different reality than they had expected. Throughout Romans 8.18-30, Paul has emphasized a new reality that for Gentile believers. On three separate occasions Paul refers to this reality, not with the term ‘resurrection’, but with the term ‘glory’ (δόξα).220 Paul asserts that this glory is ‘about to be revealed to us’ (Rom. 8.19) The revelation of the children of God will result in the antithesis of Rom. 3.23. The ‘creation will obtain the glory of the children of God’ (Rom. 8.22) 215. Fitzmyer, Romans, 509; Plotinus, Enneads, IV, 7, 13, 6, speaks of the way in which the creation is birthed and then develops from lower to higher forms of being. See Georg Bertram, ‘ὠδίν, ὠδίνω’, TDNT 9, 667–74; LSJ, 20–30. 216. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 52. Engerg-Pedersen speaks more forcefully when he says, ‘Their bodies are actually dead – atrophied – and what gives them life both now and in the future is the pneuma within them that they have received as part of having been made righteous.’ 217. Engberg-Pedersen, Cosmology, 52. 218. See James Swetnam, ‘On Romans 8.23 and the Expectations of Sonship’, Bib 48/1 (1967), 102–8. 219. For Dunn, the Spirit remains the key to the ‘already/not yet’ element in Paul’s thinking (Dunn, Romans 1–8, 475). 220. For a more detailed investigation regarding God’s glory and the theme of eschatological glory see James R. Harrison, Paul and the Imperial Authorities, 201–70. See also David Garrard’s article, ‘The Eschatological Significance of Glory, Sonship, and Inheritance in Romans 8 & 11’, Journal of the European Pentecostal Theological Association 31 (2011), 168–84; LSJ, 444; Gerhard Kittel, ‘δόξα, κτλ.’ TDNT 2, pp. 232–55.



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and those who love God and are conformed to the image of God’s Son will also be glorified (Rom. 8.30). The theme of glory, the Spirit’s connection to the restoration of glory, and the redemptive role of the children of God are crucial elements of Paul’s argument. For Paul’s argument to be persuasive, the metaphor of adoption must continue to be present to the minds of Paul’s Roman audience. The notion of God’s eschatological glory has been emphasized in the letter previously. Paul states at the beginning of the letter that those ‘whose wickedness suppress the truth’ (Rom. 1.18) have not given God glory (Rom. 1.21); instead, they have ‘exchanged the glory’ of God for created objects (Rom. 1.23). Glory is something to be sought out (Rom. 2.7). Because of the universality of human sinfulness, all have fallen short of the ‘glory of God’ (Rom. 3.23). Abraham, on the other hand, rendered glory to God (Rom. 4.20). Paul states that the firm hope for those whom he addresses is to share in the glory of God (Rom. 5.2). Paul views this share in the glory of God in terms that parallel what he means when he talks about the resurrection of Jesus (Rom. 6.4). This brings the discussion back to Romans 8.18-30, where Paul connects his notion of glory with the creation and with the newly adopted children of God (Rom 8.21) who will be glorified (Rom. 8.30). In all of this, Paul never defines exactly what he means by ‘glory,’ but describes the way in which glory connects to faith. Paul speaks of sharing in the glory of God in much the same way as he speaks of access to grace through Jesus Christ and the gift of the Spirit, through the poured out love of God (Rom. 5.15). Paul connects the image of glory with both baptism and newness of life (Rom. 6.14). There is a correlation between the death and resurrection of Jesus and the anticipation of a resurrection like that of Jesus (Rom. 6.5). Paul’s notion of glory is connected not only to the eschatological glory of God but also to a life lived out daily in the presence of the risen Christ. In Romans 8.18-30, Paul emphasizes the Spirit’s role in the constitution of the community of faith and concludes that full demonstration of the Spirit will have a redemptive effect upon the entire cosmos. Paul began the letter to the Romans by incorporating Jews, Gentiles, and the whole cosmos into the narrative of God’s redemptive plan. In Chapter 8, the Spirit is the agent that brings salvation to bear on the entire world because of the death and resurrection of Jesus. The entire world stands to experience benefaction because of the newly adopted children of God.221

Conclusion When Paul uses the metaphor of adoption, he is appropriating a piece of the Roman Imperial narrative that connects religious, political, and social realities to the advent of the Spirit as a result the resurrection of Jesus. Throughout Paul’s letter to the Romans, Paul has used simple household metaphors and images in order to connect his message of the gospel to the people in Rome. The last 221. Fitzmyer, Romans, 505.

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household metaphor, and the most significant for Paul’s case, is the metaphor of adoption. Paul has advanced the case that Gentile believers have been incorporated into the people of God through a Spirit of adoption. Gentile believers must no longer consider themselves to be outside of the people of God or doomed to the eschatological judgement because of their ethnicity. While, at one time, the very flesh of a Gentile pointed to this unavoidable certainty, the Spirit of adoption, received and experienced in baptism, has removed this fear and has provided new strength to defeat the power of Sin. Caesar was not the only ‘son of god’. Paul uses Imperial language to communicate and expand his pneumatology. Rooted in the Jewish notion that God is the Father of God’s people, Paul’s experience of the risen Jesus, his experience of the Spirit, and his mission to the Gentiles force him to renegotiate the fundamental separation of Jews from Gentiles. Exploring the story of Abraham and the witness of the prophets, Paul had discovered that it had been God’s intention to draw the Gentiles into God’s people from the beginning. The Spirit of adoption had made this intention a reality.

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210 Bibliography Smith, Martin S., ‘Greek Adoptive Formulae’, The Classical Quarterly 17 (1967): 302–10. Sokolowski, Emil, Geist und Leben nach den Schriften des Paulus (Heiligenstadt: Brunn‘sche Buchdruckerei, 1903). Speidel, Michael P. and Alexara Dimitrova-Milceva, ‘The Cult of the Genii in the Roman Army and a New Military Deity’, ANRW 16.2, eds., Hildegard Temporini and Wolfgang Haase (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1978), 1542–55. Spicq, Celsus, Theological Lexicon of the New Testament 3 vols, trans. and ed. James D. Ernest (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1994). Stacey, David, The Pauline View of Man in Relation to Its Judaic and Hellenistic Background (London: Macmillan, 1956). Stendahl, Krister, Paul among the Jews and Gentiles (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976). Stenzel J., ‘Zur Entwicklung des Geistbegriffes in der griechisch Philosophie’, Antike 1 (1925): 244–72. Stommel, E., ‘Begraben mit Christus’ (Römer 6,4) und der Taufritus’, Römische Quartalschrift für christliche Altertumskunde und Kirchengeschichte 49 (1954): 1–11. Stowers, Stanley K., A Rereading of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994). Stowers, Stanley K., The Diatribe and Paul’s Letter to the Romans (Chico: Scholars Press, 1981). Sutherland, C. H. V., Coinage in Roman Imperial Policy: 31 bc–ad 68 (London: Methuen, 1951). Swetnam, James, ‘On Romans 8.23 and the Expectations of Sonship’, Biblica 48 (1967): 102–108. Syme, Ronald, The Roman Revolution (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1939). Taubes, Jacob, The Political Theology of Paul. trans. Dana Hollander (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2004). Taylor, Lily Ross, The Divinity of the Roman Emperor (Philadelphia: Porcupine Press, 1975). Taylor, Lily Ross, ‘Tiberius’ Ovattio and the Ara Numinis Augusti’, American Journal of Philology 58 (1937): 185–93. Tellbe, Mikael, Paul Between Synagogue and State: Christians, Jews, and Civic Authorities in 1 Thessalonians, Romans, and Philippians (Conictanea Biblica New Testament Series 34. Stockholm: Almqvist and Wiksell International, 2001). Thimmes, Pamela, ‘”She Will Be Called an Adultress …”: Marriage and Adultery Analogies in Romans 7.1–4’, Celebrating Romans: Template for Pauline Theology, Essays in Honor of Robert Jewett, ed. Sheila E. McGinn (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 190–203. Tholuck, A.,’Erneute Untersuchung über σάρξ als Quelle der Sünde’, Theologische Studien und Kritiken, 28 (1855). Thompson, Logan, ‘Roman Roads’, History Today 47 (1997): 21–8. Tonstad, Sigve, ‘The Revisionary Potential of “Abba! Father!” in the Letters of Paul’, Andrews University Seminary Studies 45 (2007): 5–18. Taeger, Fritz, Charisma: Studien zur Geschichte des antiken Herrscherkultes 2 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1960). Taylor, Deborah Furlan, ‘The Monetary Crisis in Revelation 13.17 and the Provenance of the Book of Revelation’, Catholic Biblical Quarterly 71 (2009): 580–96. Turcan, Robert, ‘La promotion du sujet par le culte du souverain’, in Subject and Ruler: The Cult of the Ruling Power in Classical Antiquity: Papers Presented at a Conference held in the University of Alberta on April 13–15, 1994, to Celebrate the 65th Anniversary

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INDEX OF ANCIENT SOURCES Biblical Writings OLD TESTAMENT Genesis 3.8 157 6.17 157 7.15 157 8.1 157 9.6 163 15 110 17 110 17.19 107 29.14 141 37.22 163 37.37 141 48.5–6 35

Deuteronomy 4.34 178, 180 12.16 163 15.23 163 19.10 163 21.7 163 21.23 146 26.8 178 Judges 7.19 159 9.2 141 1 Samuel 1.20 107 16.23 159

Exodus 2.10 36 4.22 180 10.13 157 10.19 157 14.21 157 15.10 157 20.17 136 29.12 163

2 Samuel 7.14

Leviticus 4.7 163 4.12 163 4.18 163 4.25 163 4.30 163 4.34 163 17.4 163 18.6 141 25.48, 49 141

1 Chronicles 11.1 141

Numbers 11.16–25 157 11.25, 26 157 11.31 157 35.33, 34 163

22, 35, 36, 37, 153, 180 9.2 141 19.13-14 141 1 Kings 1.15 163 21.27 141

Esther 2.7, 15

36

Job 2.5 141 4.15 157 9.18 157 19.17 157 Psalms 31.1-2 110 33.6 157 55.8 157 107.25 157

135.17 157 141.2 (LXX 141.3) 163 Proverbs 13.30 141 Isaiah 1.2 180 4.16 158 8.13 178 9.20 [9.19 LXX] 141 11.1 157 11.4 157 11.9-12 157 22.13 141 30.27-28 158 32.2 157 40.7 157 42.1-5 158 44.1 158 57.13 188 65.9 188 65:11-12 59 Jeremiah 3.19 154, 180 31.9 180 32.21 178 Ezekiel 37.9, 10

157

Hosea 1.2-9 154 4.19 157 5.10 163 11.1 180 Joel 3.1-5

157, 163

Amos 4.13 157

214 Zechariah 12.10 163 Malachi 3.10 163 Apocrypha Tobit 4.3 159 6.8 159 Wisdom of Solomon 5.3 159 5.23 159 9.17 159 11–15 107 13.1-19 105 13.2 157 14.22-31 105 Sirach 22.23 188 24.33 163 28.23 158 39.6 159 Baruch 2.17 158 2 Maccabees 7.21 149 7.22 158 13.9 149 1 Ezra 2.5 159 Other Jewish Writings 4QFlor. 1.11 36, 180 Jubilees 1.14 Life of Moses 1.19 36 Testament of Judah 24.3 36 NEW TESTAMENT Matthew 6.12 166 27.44 119

Index of Ancient Sources Mark 3 132 15.32 119 13.4 167 John 3.17 146 19.32 119 Acts 2 158 5.32 161 15.8 161 18.2 100 Romans 1.1 142 1.1-4 25, 36 1.1-7 107 1.3-4 142 1.3 143 1.4 107, 173 1.5 14, 104, 105, 146, 163, 165, 173 1.5-6 99 1.6 107, 148 1.13 14, 104, 105, 166, 173 1.14 166, 167 1.16 104 1.16-17 171, 173 1.18 111, 195 1.21 195 1.23 195 1.32 171 1.18-32 14, 105, 107, 115, 134, 139, 170 1.19-32 144 1.30 107 2 105 2.1-3 170 2.1-16 105 2.5 111 2.7 102, 195 2.8 111 2.9 104 2.10 104 2.12-16 137 2.13 113, 173 2.16 148 2.17-29 106, 107 2.22 107

2.25-29 107 2.28 143 3.1-9 106, 126 3.2 106, 132 3.5 111 3.5-8 118 3.7-11 145 3.8 148 3.9 104, 126 3.10 126 3.10-20 107 3.11 126 3.19 132 3.21-26 107 3.22-23 107 3.23 194 3.29 104 3.30 104 3.31 126, 173 4 107, 143, 173, 188 4.1 108, 110, 141, 143 4.6-8 110 4.9 110 4.11 110 4.15 111 4.16 110 4.17 102, 110 4.20 195 5.1-7.6 23 5.1 111, 112 5.1-11 111, 113 5.2 111 5.5 40, 111, 113, 161, 163, 173 5.6 192 5.6-9 163 5.8 113 5.9 111 5.10 111 5.12-21 113 5.13 113 5.14 113 5.15 113, 164, 195 5.9 115 5.18 166 5.20 126 5.21 102, 113 6 155 6.1-2 173 6.1-9 126

6.1-11 118, 122 6.2-4 40 6.3 118 6.4 118, 195 6.5 195 6.6 118, 122, 134 6.7 118, 126 6.11 118 6.12 123 6.12-23 123 6.14 123, 125, 126, 195 6.15 126 6.16 118, 123 6.17-20 178 6.20-23 124, 145 6.22 124 6.23 102, 124, 126 7 97, 98, 142, 144, 145, 148 7.1 166, 174 7.1-3 127, 128 7.1-6 15, 125, 127, 128, 131, 132, 133 7.3 166 7.4 131, 166 7.4-6 127 7.5 141 7.6 135, 155, 163 7.7 126, 133, 136 7.7-13 136, 138 7.7-25 15, 125, 128, 133, 134, 135, 136, 155, 165, 170 7.8-12 136, 137 7.9-10 137, 171 7.11-14 137 7.14-25 125, 138 7.15 135 7.16 170 7.19 135 7.20 139 7.22 139 7.23-25 14, 139 7.24 122 7.25 135, 139,

Index of Ancient Sources 145, 166, 171 8 58, 97, 98, 142, 144, 145, 156, 158, 165, 181 8.1 144 8.1-11 150, 155, 164 8.1-17 23, 97, 125, 192 8.2 139, 145, 146, 149, 163, 193 8.3 146, 147, 148, 150 8.4 144, 145, 147, 148, 149, 150 8.5-10 148 8.6 149, 155 8.7 149, 150 8.8 141, 149 8.9 150, 158, 189 8.9-11 165 8.10 40, 150, 194 8.11 147, 149, 150, 155, 160, 163 8.12 141, 166, 167, 173, 174 8.12-17 2, 5, 13, 18, 19, 22, 37, 41, 57, 125, 145, 150, 151, 165, 166, 186, 191 8.13 170, 171 8.14-30 40, 164 8.14 163, 171, 173, 184 8.14-15 139, 163, 182 8.15 1, 4, 18, 20, 35, 36, 153, 154, 161, 162, 178, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 193

215 8.16 8.17

185, 186 164, 165, 187, 189, 190 8.18 190 8.18-30 192, 194, 195 8.19 194 8.19-22 40 8.21 145, 193, 195 8.23 35, 36, 182, 190, 191, 192 8.23-27 163, 164 8.26-27 194 8.28-30 194 8.29 164, 190 8.30 195 9.1 164 9–11 135 9.3 141, 143, 166 9.4 153, 166, 181 9.5 34, 143, 181 9.8 143 9.16 166 9.18 166 9.22 111 9.24 104 10.1 174 10.12 104 11.1-28 126 11.13 104 11.14 141, 143 11.15 14 11.25 166, 174 12–15 143 12.1 166, 174 12.9 167 12.11 164 12.12 171 12.19 111 13 27 13.1-7 3 13.4, 5 111 13.8 167 13.14 143 14.12 166 14.19 166 15.13 164 15.14 166, 174 15.14-19 104

216 15.14-29 14 15.16 164 15.19 161 15.27 167 15.28 124 15.30 164, 174 15.30-33 25, 104 16 14 16.3-5 101 16.7 166 16.17 174 1 Corinthians 2.10-16 161 2.12 160, 161 3.12-15 40 3.16 160, 161 6.9-10 188 6.11 161, 181 6.14 160 6.16 141 6.16-20 160 6.17 161 7.22 176 8.13 9 9.24-27 3 10.1-6 108 10.25 9 12 156 12.8-11 161 12.13 160 14.37 161 15 40 15.19 132, 163 15.44, 45 40, 160, 165 15.50 188 16.19 101 2 Corinthians 1.22 161 3.3 160 3.9 161 3.17 160 4 40 5.5 160, 161 11.4 161 13.13 160 Galatians 1.17 6 3.1-3 194 3.2 161 3.5-9 161 3.10-14 147

Index of Ancient Sources 3.13 147 3.14 161 3.15 189 3.26 162 3.28-29 162, 184 4 162 4.1-7 171 4.3 162 4.4 146 4.4-7 37 4.5 36 4.6 161 4.7 162, 188 5.3 167 5.16 141, 173 5.17 141 5.18 171, 173 5.21 188 5.22 124 5.24 141

Philemon 16 141

Ephesians 1.14 188 3.5 141 5.5 188 5.9 124 6.5 141

Augustus Res Gestae 83–85 1,2 54, 85 20 54 21 54 34.1-3 50

Philippians 1.11 124 2.5-11 142 2.7-8 147 3.10, 11 190 3.12-16 3 3.21 160, 165, 194 4.22 3, 176

Cassius Dio 31.1-5 129 44.6.1 45, 46 51.19.7 84 51.20.6 81 55.8.6 53 55.31.2 177 56.41.3 175 60.6.6. 100 60 129

Colossians 3.22 141 1 Thessalonians 1.5 160 1.10 111 4.8 161 5.19 161 2 Timothy 1.7 161 3.6 173 4.19 101 Titus 3.5-7 188

Early Christian Writers Ireneaues Adv. Haer 3.19.1 36 Greek and Roman Writers Accius Non. 137.27 68 Andocides Pac. 33.2 112 Apuleius Met 9.12, 13

179

Catullus 64.204 69 Censorinus 3,1

59, 182

Chrysipp. Fr. 479

157

Cicero De Doma Sua 34–38 183 De Officis 1.160 167

Nat. Deo. 1.120 68

Index of Ancient Sources

217 21.41.8.1 112

Phil 3.32 68

Martial Epigrams 9.42.8 168 9.52 61 10.87.1-4 61

Demosthenes Orat. 12.22.8 112

Orosius History 7.6.15 100

Ep. 101 119 257–69 129

Diogenes Laertius Vit Phil. 7.110 136

Ovid Fasti 2.639-646 67 5.129-48 53

Suetonius Augustus 30.1 53 38.3 177 44 177

Epictetus Diss. 2.9.19-21 106 Gellius NA 5.19.5 183 Hippocr. De Flatibus 3 157 Homer Illiad 20.223 156 Horace Odes 3.57-59 64 4.5.25-36 64, 69 4.11 63 17 60 Josephus AJ 4.108 159 4.119 159 14.469-81 135 20.149 129 BJ 5.449-51 121

Trisita 3.1.39-46 87 3.13.13-18 62 5.5.8-12 62 Oxyrynchus Papyri 1021 1 Philo Migr. Abr. 60 136 Spec. Leg. 2.73 188 3.8 136 Plato Tim. 78, A, B

156

Plautus Bacchidies 362 121 The Captives 2.2 62 Pseudolus 169, 170

60

Juvenal Satires 6.219 121 10.329-45 129

Pliny N.H. 2, 94 48 3.4.66 53 10.166 156 33.32 176

Livy I.32.9-10 44

Polybius Hist.

Seneca Apocol. 11, 13

129

Caligula 22.3 70 Claudius 12.3 55 15.1-2 55 18 55 21 177 25.4 100 26.2 129 29.3 129 36.1 129 Strabo 5.3.9 89 Tacitus Annals 4.37.3 81 11.12 129 11.12-14 130 11.26-38 129 11.38.4-5 130 14.39-46 121 14.42 121 14.43-46 122 15.44.4 121 Tibullus Carmina 2.2.5-8 62 Varro De Re Rustica 2.1.19 156 Virgil Eclogues

218 1.1-10 49 4 158 4.5–15, 26-9 49 9.47 49 Georgics

Index of Ancient Sources 3.274 156 Xenophon Hell. 3.4.6.7 112

Mem. 1.2.23 136

INDEX OF MODERN WRITERS Adcock, F. E. 71 Adeyemi, Femi 126 Alegre, P. P. Ripollés 94, 109 Alföldy, Géza 123, 175 Amandry, Michel 94, 109 Ando, Clifford 29, 30, 43, 44, 58, 66, 88, 92 Argetsinger, Karen 59, 60, 61, 62 Aune, David 10 Badian, Ernst 54 Balch, David 26, 29, 62, 73 Baldwin Bowsky, Martha 9 Bartchy, S. S. 123 Barth, Karl 20, 22 Baur, F. C. 140 Beard, Mary 29, 50, 68, 71, 74, 86, 168, 175 Bechtle, Gerald 130 Berger, Adolf 128 Bertone, John 37, 41 Bertram, Georg 149, 194 Beurlier, Emile 30 Bieder, Werner 157, 158, 159 Bodel, John 72 Boer, M. C. de 126 Bousett, Wilhelm 140 Bowersock, Glen 46 Boyne, Wayne 91 Bradley, Keith 2, 117, 123, 124, 155, 179 Branick, Vincent P. 141 Braund, D. C. 115 Braund, Susanna 130 Brodeur, Scott 170 Büchsel, Friedrich 136 Burnett, Andrew 91 Burton, E. D. 17, 140, 141, 156, 157 Byrne, Brendan 21, 22, 24, 34, 35, 125, 126, 144, 146, 147, 153, 154, 156, 167, 173, 181, 182, 184 Cadoux, John 54 Campbell, Douglas 4 Campbell, William 13, 103, 106, 118 Charlesworth, M. P. 70, 71 Clark, Mark Edward 50, 51 Clarke, John 33, 73, 75, 88, 89, 99, 90

Cohen, Boaz 168, 169, 175 Collins, Adela Yarbro 81 Collins, Raymond 166 Cook, S. A. 71 Cranfield, C. E. B. 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 125, 133, 137, 138, 174 Creekmore, Hubert 61 Crook, John 169, 176 Crosson, J. D. 4, 19, 26, 27 Dacre, Vyvian Balsdon 55 Dahl, Nils Alstrup 170 Davies, W. D. 140 Deissmann, Adolf 24, 26 De Kind, Richard 72 Delling, Gerhard 193 Demougin, S. 175 Dibelius, Martin 38 Dillon, Richard 148 Dimitrova-Milceva, Alexara 66 Dittenberber, W. 115 Donahue, Paul 170 Donner, Herbert 36 Duff, Paul R. 145, 177 Dunn, J. D. G. 15, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 99, 100, 104, 105, 107, 110, 111, 113, 118, 122, 123, 125, 127, 133, 134, 136, 137, 138, 144, 145, 154, 162, 163, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 178, 179, 184, 186, 188, 189, 190, 192, 193, 194 Earnshaw, John D. 127 Eck, Werner 47, 54, 86, 87, 89 Eder, Walter 48, 178 Egelhaaf-Gaiser, Ulrike 8, 9 Ehrensperger, Karen 23 Elliott, Neil 13, 26, 27, 28, 112, 155 Engberg-Pedersen, Troels 11, 17, 37, 39, 40, 160, 164, 165, 187, 190, 194 Englhofer, Claudia 61 Esler, Philip 26, 131, 144 Everling, Otto 38 Fagan, Garrett G. 129, 130 Favro, Diane. 7, 8

220

Index of Modern Writers

Fee, Gordon 37, 41, 43, 161 Fentress, Elizabeth 7, 82 Finley, Michael I. 118, 123 Fishwick, Duncan 31, 33, 45, 46, 47, 49, 50, 51, 52, 69, 70, 78, 79, 88, 92, 93 Fitzmyer, Joseph 21, 22, 23, 24, 100, 101, 102, 105, 107, 110, 111, 112, 113, 118, 125, 127, 131, 133, 134, 136, 137, 142, 144, 145, 146, 147, 150, 169, 170, 173, 174, 180, 181, 184, 185, 186, 188, 189, 193, 194, 195 Flory, Marleen B. 87, 123 Foerster, Werner 111 Fotopoulos, John 8 Frank, Richard I. 129, 155 Froehlich, Karlfried 11 Gaca, Kathy 20 Gadbery, Laura 76 Gagé, Jean 176 Gager, John 99, 126 Galinsky, K. 6, 7, 48, 50, 53, 66, 84, 86, 108, 178, 183 Gamble, Harry 102 Garnsey, Peter 57, 124, 175, 176, 177 Garrard, David 194 Gates, Charles 7 Gauthier, Philippe 30 Gaventa, Beverly R. 126, 131, 134, 137 Gazda, Elaine K. 33 Georgi, Dieter 24, 25, 56, 112, 155, 202 Gillespie, Thomas 161 Gillman, Florence 141 Glancy, Jennifer 26 Gloël, Johannes 140 Gradel, Ittai 31, 32, 33, 46, 47, 48, 50, 52, 53, 69, 70, 73, 77, 79, 88 Grueber, H. A. 50 Grundmann, Walter 119, 188 Gunkel, Hermann 37, 38, 140, 157, 161 Güven, Suna 7, 84, 85, 109 Hadas, Moses 109 Haeckl, Anne E. 33 Hänlein-Schäfer, Heidi 8 Hannestad, Niels 7 Hardin, Justin 28 Harland, Philip 166 Harrill, James Albert 26, 117, 155, 169, 175, 176 Harrison, J. 4, 7, 19, 26, 28, 114, 115, 194 Hauck, Friedrich 124 Hays, Richard 10, 11, 12 Headlam, Arthur 20, 22, 125

Hellegouarch 50 Hellholm, D. 155 Hengel, Martin 119, 120, 121 Heuchert, Volker 91, 92 Hohlfelder, Robert 83 Hopkins, Keith 118, 119, 123, 179 Horn, Friedrich Wilhelm 37, 38, 39, 161, 184 Horsley, Greg H. R. 189 Horsley, Richard 27, 112 Howgego, Christopher 91 Hyatt, Darlene 26 Jal, P. 111 Jameson, Fredric 13 Jewett 1, 14, 23, 24, 98, 99, 101, 104, 105, 106, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 117, 118, 119, 122, 125, 127, 128, 136, 137, 138, 140, 142, 144, 145, 146, 147, 150, 156, 166, 167, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 178, 181, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 193, 204 Johnson-Hodge, Caroline 26, 187 Jones, A. H. M. 115 Jones, Hugh Stuart 91 Judge, E. A. 7 Kahl, Brigitte 8, 12, 162 Kamudzandu, Israel 56, 108, 109, 110, 155 Käsemann, Ernst 20, 22, 23, 97, 98, 136, 150, 159, 170, 171, 173, 184, 186, 187, 193 Kaufmann-Heinimann, Annemarie 32, 72 Kee, Harold Clark 11 Keck, Leander 114, 136 Kehoe, Dennis P. 179 Kinlaw, Dennis 174 Kittel, Gerhard 194 Kleinknecht, Hermann 156, 157 Koch, Christopher 43, 44 Koester, Helmut 3, 26, 81 Koukouli-Chrysantaki, Chaido 81 Kreitzer, L. Joseph 10 Krentz, Edgar 3 Kurylowicz, Marek 36, 56, 57, 58 Lampe, Peter 100, 101, 179 Levick, Barbara 55, 92, 129, 130, 155 Levison, J. R. 159 Lintott, Andrew William 117, 119 Little, Joyce A. 155 Lisdorf, Anders 183 Longenecker, Bruce 161 Lopez, Davina 19, 43 Lüdemann, Gerd 100 Lüdemann, Hermann 140 Lyall, Francis 181



Index of Modern Writers

MacMullen, Ramsay 109 Malherbe, Abraham 118 Marquis, Timothy Luckritz 120 Martin, Dale 17, 40, 123, 160, 176, 187 Martyn, J. L. 161, 162 Mawhinney, Allen 34, 154 McGinn, Sheila E. 127 Meeks, Wayne 9, 26, 166, 184 Meyer, Paul W. 134, 135 Michel, O. 181 Millar, Fergus 175 Milligan, G. 107, 119 Moo, Douglas 20, 21, 125, 142, 145, 146, 147, 148, 156, 169, 186 Momigliano, Arnaldo 70, 71, 79, 100, 108, 109, 176 Moxnes, Helvor 20, 26 Moulton, James H. 107, 119 Murphy, Roland 140, 143 Myers, Susan 120 Nanos, Mark 13, 99, 104 Nesselhauf, H. 4, 56 Nicholas, Barry 128 Niniou-Kindeli, Vanna 9 Nock, Arthur Darby 30, 71 Nongbri, Brent 5, 43 North, John 29, 50, 68, 71, 74, 86, 168, 175 Nygren, Anders 20, 21 Oakes, Peter 100, 102 Obeng, Eric 184 O’Connor, Jerome Murphy 82 Orr, David 32, 71, 72, 75, 87, 100, 102, 103, 182 Osiek, Carolyn 26, 62 Osten-Sacken, Peter von der 192 Oster, Richard 10 Otto, W. F. 59, 60, 63, 64 Pelling, C. B. R 3 Peppard, M. 4, 17, 24, 28, 52, 58, 64, 87, 89, 154, 187, 190, 191 Percy, John 55 Pervo, Richard 11 Pfeiderer, O. 140 Phillips, C. Robert III 74 Pillar, Edward 19, 43 Pomeroy, Sarah 127, 131 Pötscher, Walter 67, 68, 69 Potter 3, 179 Prescendi, Francesca 68 Price, Simon 7, 29, 30, 33, 50, 68, 71, 73, 74, 81, 86, 168, 175 Purcell, Nicholas 124

221

Rajak, Tessa 55 Rawson, Beryl 123 Reasoner, Mark 5 Reed, J. L. 4, 19, 27 Reitzenstein, Richard 140 Reynolds, R. W. 130 Richardson, Geoffrey Walter 54 Ridley, Ronald 7 Robert, Louis 30, 47 Robinson, John A. T. 140 Rock, Ian 19, 43 Rodger, Alan Ferguson 169 Romano, David Gilman 82 Romero, Ilaria 65, 66, 67, 94 Rose, H. J. 29, 67, 68 Rousset, Denis 30 Rüpke, Jörg 8, 9, 32, 48, 73, 101, 200 Rutgers, Leonard 101 Saller, Richard 55, 57, 60, 124, 175, 176, 177, 189 Sampley, J. Paul 3, 22, 26, 43, 73, 98, 167, 189, Sand, Alexander 140, 141 Sanday, W. 20, 22, 125, 133 Sanders, E. P. 25, 132 Savalli-Lestrade, Ivana 30 Scheid, John 9 Scherrer, Peter 81 Schilling, Robert 59, 60, 63, 64 Schlier, Heinrich 162 Schmidt, W. 61 Schmithals, Walter 103, 140 Schottroff, Louise 15, 122 Schowalter, Daniel N. 81 Schweizer, Eduard 136, 140, 156, 157, 160, 161 Scott, James M. 35, 36, 37, 56, 57, 153, 180, 181, 182, 183 Segal, Erich 179 Shotter 1 Silberman, Neil Asher 27 Small, Alastair 31, 78, 82 Smith, Christopher 73 Smith, J. Z. 5 Smith, Warren 130 Soden, Hans Freiherr von 166 Sokolowski, Emil 38 Speidel, Michael P. 66 Spoerri, Marguerite 94, 109 Stacey, David 140 Stählin, Gustav 136 Stendahl, Krister 25, 98, 99, 110 Stenzel, J. 156 Stewart, Zeph 30 Stommel, E. 119

222

Index of Modern Writers

Stowers, Stanley 13, 15, 99, 105, 117, 134, 135, 137 Sumney, J. L. 13 Sutherland, C. H. V. 91, 92, 93, 94 Swetnam, James 194 Syme, R. 6, 30, 47, 48, 49, 50, 55 Taeger, Fritz 69 Taubes, Jacob 25 Taylor, Deborah Furlan 10 Taylor, Lily Ross 10, 30, 45, 46, 47, 48, 50, 51, 52, 64, 69, 81, 86, 87 Tellbe, Mikael 19 Thimmes, Pamela 127, 128 Tholuck, A. 140 Thompson, Logan 9 Tonstad, Sigve 184 Treggiari, Susan M. 123, 128 Turcan, Robert 77, 78

Wallace-Hadrill, A. 124 Walters, James C. 189 Watson, Alan 189 Watson, Edward 34 Watson, Francis 25, 100 Watson, George Ronald 117, 119 Wedderburn, A. J. M. 103, 104, 148 Weinel, Heinrich 38 Weinstock, Stefan 45, 111, 178 Welborn, L. L. 20, 130 Wendt, H. H. 140 Westermann, William 117, 123, 124, 168 Whitsett, Christopher 142 Wiefel, Wolfgang 101 Williams, Jonathan 91, 92 Witherington, Ben 26, 114 Wright, N. T. 10, 11, 22, 25, 26, 27, 43, 97, 98, 106, 125, 135, 139, 167

Vos, J. S. 188

Yee, Tet-Lim N. 143 Young, Franklin 11

Walbank, Mary E. 82, 83 Wall, Robert W. 22, 98

Zanker, Paul 7, 8, 33, 77, 78, 79, 80, 83, 85, 86, 89, 93, 94, 109, 175, 183