by Ivoni Richter Reimer

Lydia and her house (16:13-15, 40)

Lydia is a woman with a central position in the Acts of the Apostles. She, together with Sapphira and the prophetic slave, is one of the few women in Luke’s work who has a chance to speak. She does speak. And what she says is theologically significant. Lydia, like Priscilla, is described in terms of her profession. She is the only female god-fearer who is named in Acts. Her key position and particular importance for Acts are expressed in many ways, including the fact that she, with the other women gathered in the synagogue building, is the first person with whom Paul comes in contact on the soil of Macedonia, that is, in Europe. She is the first person in this region who gathers a house church in her own house. And yet she does not receive much honor. Her story, like that of Tabitha, is commonly treated in European exegesis as a “prologue” to the “real” conversion story, that of the Philippian jailer. Let me illustrate this tendency in the interpretations with a single example:

Gottfried Schille gives it as his opinion that Luke has transferred the Lydia story to another geographical location. There was a Lydia tradition but originally it did not belong to Philippi; it was placed there by Luke. The reason why Lydia’s story is not appropriate to Philippi, according to Schille, is that it is scarcely imaginable that there could be two foundation stories for the church community in a single city.” (1) What that really means is that only the jailer’s story could be the “real” story about Philippi. Schille thus reduces the Lydia story to a “prologue” for the genuine Philippi narrative.(2) But it seems to me that in doing so the author fails to ask the most important questions, and therefore has no answers for them: Why would Luke have chosen precisely this story as a prologue? Why were the broader religious, economic, and political conflicts, together with the arrest of the Christian envoys and the story of the jailer, embedded in the story of Lydia?

The Women Who Were Gathered

On the sabbath day we went outside the gate by the river; where we supposed there was a [synagogue]; and we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there. (Acts 16:13)

Women have gathered. This is a unique statement in Acts, and in fact in the whole of the New Testament. It is true that there is a similar situation in the case of Tabitha, but only here is there a description of the gathering. It is truly astonishing that, within the framework not only of androcentric language, but of patriarchal relationships, (3) we learn something about the existence of a group of women. Here women have not been made invisible! And still more: part of the history of a group of women has been transmitted to us here. My goal in this chapter is to understand this story better.

Gathering

 

First let me inquire what is meant by the women’s being gathered. Most exegetes overlook the importance of the fact that a group of women is gathered here, and turn their attention too quickly to Paul’s activity, with the result that the women slip out of the picture. Apparently the interpreters are interested only in the missionary works of the apostles (in this case, Paul). But we should emphatically object to that kind of view of this story: Without the presence of these and similar groups, Paul could scarcely have missionized in the way he is reported to have done. On the other hand, we can say that without an account of the work of Paul and other missionaries, we would have no access to these women, and these fragments of the history of women would have been lost.

 

In order to clarify the importance of the women’s being gathered, let us first analyze the verb sunerchesthai “gather” in connection with the other concepts of lalein, “speak,” and proseuchê, “synagogue.” (4) “We will include the remarks of the commentators as well as material from outside the New Testament, including inscriptions, whenever possible. We can begin with the fact that it is unusual for Luke to give an account that focuses exclusively on women, or a group of women. The text gives us some important clues for the reconstruction of this group of women at Philippi – for example, it does not say that the women had met, but that they had gathered or assembled. What is the meaning of that statement?

 

To my knowledge there has been no extensive scholarly study of the verb sunerchesthai (5) Therefore we should introduce as many New Testament passages as possible to gain an overall picture of its semantic field. A look at these passages shows that the verb is used, fundamentally, in four different contexts of meaning:

 

First the verb can describe a judicial hearing before a tribunal or before the Sanhedrin (6) (see Acts 22:30; 25:17; Mark 14:53; see also Acts 28 17, 20). This always refers to a gathering of high Roman or Jewish authorities to hear something from someone or to make a decision about something. This use of the verb is not relevant to our context.

 

Second, the verb appears when the subject is a particular religious experience and faith-praxis: On the one hand, people gather together because of good news given to them (Luke 4:18, the poor and the sick who want to hear of Jesus’ words and deeds; Luke 5:15; Mark 3:20 in context; see also Acts 5:16 in context). They gather because they know that something is happening in a particular place in which they want to have a part and from which they expect something (healing, for example). Or; on the other hand, people are gathered in a particular place to hear and learn what God has to say to them (Acts 2:6, 11; 10:27; see 10:24, 33; John 18:20). According to these passages, people have gathered with a particular religious purpose. John 18:20 even makes it clear that the synagogue and the Temple are the places where “all the Jews come together.” Jesus here speaks of a time in the past, but utters this statement in the present tense, probably because Jews were still gathering there.

 

Third, the verb appears only in Luke in connection with discipleship and shared work, which can also be expressed in traveling together, Luke uses the verb to describe the shared work of mission: for example, in Acts 10:45 (see 10:23b). Those who, according to this text, share in Peter’s missionary work also belong, for example, to the community in Joppa (9:36-43). This use of the verb is still clearer in Acts 15:38 (see and 15.37 and 13:13): According to 13:5-13 John Mark worked with Paul and Barnabas for some time and, for reasons not given, separated from them and returned to Jerusalem. He appears at Antioch again in 15:37-9 where Judas and Silas have also arrived, having been chosen by the community at Jerusalem and sent out with Paul and Barnabas. According to this passage, Paul refuses this time to travel and work with John Mark. We also learn of a “sharp disagreement” between Paul and Barnabas, so that they also separate: Barnabas takes John Mark with him and Paul chooses Silas. Judas, Barnabas, and John Mark disappear from the author’s view from this point on, but probably they continue their missionary activity, like many others before them (see 8:1-4; 11:19).

 

Luke makes a unique use of this verb in one other context having to do with discipleship and shared work: this is in regard to the people (women and men) who were with Jesus from the beginning (Luke 23:55; Acts 1:6, 21). Here it stands for intensively shared work with Jesus and as his disciples. It should be interpreted in the context of Luke 23:49; Mark 15:40; and Matt. 27:55-56.

 

Fourth, Paul uses this verb in 1 Cor. 11:17-34 and 14:23-26 as a “technical term for the coming together of the Christian congregation, especially to administer the Lord’s Supper.”(7)

 

On the basis of these passages we may observe that when a gathering of people is described with sunerchesthai there is always the idea of a deliberate, purposeful gathering that also implies community (so especially Luke 23:55; Acts 1:6, 21; 15:38; Mark 3:20 palin; John 18:20; see also 1 Cor. 11:17-34; 14:23-32).(8) Our women have therefore not met or gathered by accident. Because the gathering is always connected with a purpose, it remains to inquire why the women have gathered here.

 

In the context of a gathering made up exclusively of women, we learn that Paul and Silas, after seating themselves, talk to, or rather with the women. Because this circumstance seems to me to be important for understanding the women’s being gathered together, I want to ask at this point whether the combination of words at the end of v. 13 is coincidental, or whether it can give us some definite information. I am referring to the expression kathizantes elaloumen tais sunelthousais gunaixin “we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there.”

 

The verb kathizein,”sit down,” and similar words describe various situations in the New Testament: first, sitting on the throne of God or in the reign of God, but also sitting on the Roman judgment seat (Matt- 19:28; 20:21, 23; 25:31; Mark 16:19; John 19:13; Acts 2:30; 12:21; 25:6, 17); second, sitting down to work or to make decisions (Matt, 13:48; Luke 14:28, 31; 16:6); third, remaining in a given place (living somewhere for a period of time, in connection with religious aspects or purposes: Luke 24:49; Acts 2:2; 18:11). For our context the fourth use of the verb is important, especially since it is especially connected with teaching and preaching: Jesus sat down on the mountain and the mathêtai “disciples” came to him, and he taught (didaskein) them (Matt 5:1-2); Jesus sat down in the house at Capernaum, called the Twelve together, and taught them (Mark 9:33-34; cf. v. 38: didaskale); after Jesus had sat down, he taught the okloi from the fishing boat (Luke 5:3); an Ethiopian eunuch was sitting in his chariot and reading from the prophet Isaiah when he invited Philip to climb up and sit with him. Philip then explained the pericope by preaching Christ to the eunuch (Acts 8:27-33), whereupon the eunuch asked Philip to baptize him. Kathizein also appears in the context of teaching and preaching in the Temple and in the synagogue. John 8:2 describes a repeated (palin) scene in the Temple, that is, Jesus sat down and taught (see also v. 20); in Matt. 23:2 Jesus uses a highly symbolic expression when he says that the scribes and Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat, that is, that they “have the office and the traditional authority to hand on Moses’ teaching”; (9) Luke 4:16-21 portrays the kerygmatic “premiere performance” of Jesus in his home town, for it says that as was his custom he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath and “stood up to read.” After the reading he sat down (again?), and everyone waited for him to interpret what he had read. Acts also uses this word kathizein in the context of religious-liturgical praxis: for example, Acts 13:14-15 uses language similar to that in Luke 4:16-21 to describe Paul and Barnabas entering the synagogue at Antioch on the Sabbath. They sat down there, and after the reading of the law and the prophets Paul, having first been invited to do so, interpreted what had been read (vv. 16-41).

 

To understand the expression at the end of Acts 16:13 better, I want to look now at the other verb, lalein, “speak,” primarily as used in Acts and especially where it refers to preaching:

1. Let me begin at 10:44 (see also the second description of the same events in 11:14-17). Here it is a question of Peter’s preaching of Christ in Caesarea.

 

2. Lalein appears at least once in Acts as an expression for “distorted speech” that attempts to turn the disciples from the way that they have chosen.” (20-30)This is said to be the talk of “teachers of error and false prophets .”(10) who will appear in the community. Similarly, some of his people say of Stephen that he spoke against the law, against God against the holy city (6:1-2; see vv. 8-15). Stephen’s preaching, which pointed to the fulfillment of Scripture (see 7:1-52) appeared to the eyes of the Sanhedrin as blasphemy against God.

 

 

3. In Corinth, after a conflict, Paul decides to separate himself from “the Jews,” and says to them: “From now on I will go to the Gentiles” (18:6). But then he goes into the house of a god-fearer, and even the head of the synagogue becomes a believer and is baptized in the name of Jesus, together with all his household. This also tells us that Luke had no intention of describing a conflict with the Jews as a whole, for in w. 9-10 Paul is urged by a vision of the Lord not to give up his preaching, “for there are many in this city who are my people,” that is, the people of God in that city are very numerous. To the demand that he go on speaking and not be silent v. 11 adds that Paul stayed (sat down: kathezein) a year and a half in Corinth and taught the word of God among the people. It is also said of Apollos, a Jew, that he “spoke . . . and taught accurately the things concerning Jesus” (18:25), because he “had been instructed in the Way of the Lord.” He began to speak boldly in the synagogue.

 

4.There are many passages in which lalein refers specifically to preaching in the synagogue or in the Temple. Acts 4:1 refers to a preceding speech by Peter in 3:11-26: (11) “While [they] were speaking to the people, the priests, the captain of the temple, and the Sadducees came to them, much annoyed because they were teaching the people. . . .” The same is confirmed by 5:20: after a conflict with the high priest and the Sadducees that ended in the apostles’ imprisonment, an angel of the Lord says to them: “Go, stand in the temple and tell the people the whole message about this life.” The apostles are supposed to continue speaking in the Temple (5:21; see also 4:17-21, 31). The apostles’ customary activity in Jerusalem was then continued in the diaspora. Obvious examples are 13:5, 14-42; 14:1-7; 17:1-4, 10-15, and many more. According to Acts, Paul was not the first Jewish-Christian missionary in Antioch (see 11:19-22!). The sequence described in 13:14-42 should probably be presumed for 11:19-22 as well: 13:14-42 tells how Paul and “those with him” went to the synagogue on the Sabbath and sat down. The head of the synagogue invited Paul, after the reading of the law and the prophets, to speak a word of exhortation to the people. After he had given a long “sermon,” he was urged (v. 42) to repeat his preaching on the following Sabbath. Here the word used is again lalein. However, on the next Sabbath Paul was contradicted, and Paul and Barnabas confirmed that the word of God had to be proclaimed first to the Jews (see v. 46). Then began a persecution, and Paul and Barnabas were driven out of Antioch (v. 50). They traveled next to Iconium where they “also” (as in 13:14) went into the synagogue and preached (lalein). Something similar is said of Apollos in 18:24-25.

 

We may conclude from this semantic discussion that whenever it is a question of religious praxis or matters related to faith, and whenever the location is a cultic place, the use of the verbs kathezein                  and lalein indicates that what happens here is teaching, interpretation and preaching of the Scriptures.

 

In Acts 16:13 there is only a brief notice of the “arrival” of the missionaries in Philippi on the Sabbath. We get no details at this point about the precise events, but this kind of reporting is nothing unusual in Acts. We find it also, for example, in 13:5 (Salamis); 14:1 (Iconium); 17:10 (Beroea); 17:17 (Athens); 18:4 (Corinth); and 18:19 (Ephesus). In those passages (except for 13:5), as in Acts 16:14-15, we learn only of the reaction to the missionaries’ appearance in the synagogue. There is a slightly longer description in 17:1-3 (Thessalonica), where Paul’s customary synagogue visits are described: Paul goes to the synagogue on three Sabbaths and speaks to the Jews there, interpreting the Scripture and explaining that it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead. This, he tells them, is the Messiah, Jesus, whom he, Paul, is proclaiming to them (17:3). Luke is the only New Testament author to use the expression kata to eiôthos, “as was his custom;” it appears in Luke 4:16 and Acts 17:2, describing in the first instance Jesus’ custom and in the second Paul’s, of going to the synagogue on the Sabbath and participating in the reading and interpreting of Scripture.

 

Most exegetes do not emphasize the combination of words at the end of v. 13, but some have written about the word lalein for example in acknowledging a connection with v. 14 and asserting that the verb refers to preaching. (12) Alfons Weiser (13) reads it as “Paul’s preaching,” which the woman (sic) listened to and accepted because God opened her heart. Weiser concludes from this that in this expression Luke is indicating “why only Lydia and not the other women mentioned came to believe in the Lord'” H. W. Beyer (14) supposes that there were at least a few women at the Jewish place of prayer with whom the missionaries spoke about “religious matters,” and Theodor Zahn (15) thinks that “the Missionaries, after sitting down on the wood or stone bench in the place, spoke to them [the women]” and that after the entrance of “four strange, partly Jewish-looking [sic] men” there must have been many questions and answers, so that “the evangelical preaching, by Paul alone” grew out of all that. A. Wikenhauser (16) says that Paul proclaimed “his message” at the women’s place of prayer although it appears that there was no “proper Jewish service of worship” at the place.

The consequence of all this is that these commentators see Paul’s initial appearance in Philippi as analogous to his activity in the other places where he preached or proclaimed the gospel. W. Schmithals (17) even asserts that we can discern “Paul’s authentic missionary method” in Acts 16:13: it consisted in his seeking out a synagogue and initiating his preaching before Jews, god-fearers and proselytes. In this context, Theodor Zahn (18) even reads kathisantes elaloumen as synonymous with dialalein and dialegesthai, and on that basis equates the events in Philippi with those in Acts 17:2, 17; 18:4, 19; 19:8-9. But in spite of these initiatives, we should note that most commentators find difficulty in interpreting Acts 16:13-15. If they do not ignore altogether the fact that Paul also preached in that place, their interpretations are usually dependent on assumptions that are inadequate to the text, or discriminatory in nature. These assumptions are expressed, for example, in assertions like that mentioned above, that there were at least a few women in Philippi with whom the missionaries spoke about “religious matters.” The reason for such statements will become clear in connection with the analysis of the word proseuchê, below; almost all the restrictive commentaries on this passage are connected with the interpretation of this concept.

In summary: It appears from the word analysis above that the missionaries spent their Sabbath in the same way as in the other places where, according to their custom, they participated in Jewish worship. We are talking about a liturgical action that presumed the existence of a Jewish community in the place: The missionaries only participate, and if they had not been there the liturgical action would have been carried out by someone else in that place, as usual. The difficulty in giving an “unproblematic” reading of this account, as we can observe in the history of its interpretation, lies, in my opinion, in the fact that the text speaks here of a gathering of women.

The Place of Assembly

The difficulty the commentators have in coming to terms with a gathering made up exclusively of women rests principally on the fact that these women are not assembled just anywhere, but in the proseuchê at Philippi. Everything that is said about the missionaries in v. 13b happens in that place. Here in Acts 16:13 we not only find a description of a gathering made up exclusively of women, but also the word proseuchê is used only here to describe the place where the action occurs (see also v 16) This fact has largely determined the exegesis of this text.

An Overview of Interpretations

To begin with, the exegetical discussion seeks to clarify the meaning of proseuchê This is not a new topic. Here I will present the statements of a number of exegetes in order to clarify how they deal with the question. The fundamental problem is whether the word stands for “synagogue,” or for “place of prayer” or some other similar idea. We may summarize a number of observations based on the commentaries under four basic headings.

First, in some commentaries, the verdict remains open: H. J. Holtzmann (19) comes to an “either-or” position. He writes: “Either pros[euchê] is only a common expression for sunagôgê.. or we should suppose that in cities where the Jews had no synagogue, they provided themselves with a place of prayer.” The author then reaches the remarkable conclusion that “here, as in Catholic churches” there are “always at least a few pious females.” In drawing this conclusion, it appears, the author can scarcely bring himself to suppose that these “females” were the principal figures in Jewish Sabbath praxis in Philippi. G. Stählin (20) proceeds on the assumption that Paul looked for a synagogue in Philippi, as usual. But we cannot know whether the proseuchê he found was a “proper” synagogue. H. Conzelmann (21) knows that proseuchê can mean “synagogue.” He finds it especially “strange” that “only women were there. Is the author thinking of a place for prayer out in the open?” This is a central question in all the interpretations.

Second, proseuchê is understood to mean place of prayer, or something similar. C. E Nösgen (22) asserts that Paul and his companions expected to find a “place of prayer” outside the gate, near the river, because the Jewish community in Philippi was not very large. There would always be Jews and proselytes in such a proseuchê but in this case the latter must be in the majority, “since there is special mention of the women.” Unfortunately, the author does not pursue this argument. It is striking, however, that he presumes that men are also present. ‘ J. Felten,(23) is aware that proseuchê is often used as a synonym for sunagôgê but say thiat that is not the case here because the Jews in Philippi had no synagogue. For him, a proseuchê is not even a building, “but simply some kind of walled or unwalled placee in the open air, on the river bank  where people prayed.” Unfortunately we find no further citations here, either. Similarly, H. W. Beyer, (24) A. Wikenhauser, (25) W. de Boor, (26) and G. Schneider (27) recognize that Acts 16:13-15 reflects Paul’s usual procedure during his missionary journeys, but they argue that there was no synagogue in Philippi, and therefore the missionaries went to the river to find the Jewish place of prayer. For W. Schmithals, too there was no synagogue in Philippi, because “apparently there were no Jewish inhabitants (cf. v. 20 [?!])” there. (28) The women were god-fearers who frequented the place of prayer.

Third, proseuchê is sometimes interpreted as a synagogue. E. Preuschen, (29) G. Hoennicke, (30) and O. Bauernfeind (31) assert that both custom and context require that we read the word here as synonymous with “synagogue.” J. Schmid (32) also regards the proseuchê in Philippi, without reservation, as a synagogue. This can be concluded from his statement: “In New Testament times the synagogue was a solidly established and very common institution, both in Palestine and in the diaspora (cf. Acts 9:20; 13:5, 14; 14:1; 15:21; 16:13[!]; 17:1, 10, 17; 18:4, 19, 26).” Schmid thus equates the proseuchêin Philippi with all the other synagogues that appear in Acts. J. Munck (33) remarks very briefly that the proseuchê was “probably synonymous with a synagogue.” R. Pesch (34) writes that the missionaries had inquired about the Jewish proseuchê in the days before the Sabbath. He then continues smoothly: “There was no synagogue in the city; therefore the missionaries go . . . outside the city gate . . . where they . . . supposed there would be a ‘proseuche’ = synagogue.” It is also clear from the sentences that follow that he regards the proseuchê as a synagogue; I will return to this point later.

If we inquire about the reasons for these varying suppositions and assertions on the part of the commentators, we learn very little. Those who interpret the proseuchê as a synagogue point to other witnesses and literature. (35) Most of those who deny it give a variety of general reasons. For example, it is said that there were no Jews in Philippi, or that the Jewish community must have been very small. (36) A. Wikenhauser (37) thinks that we should conclude from 13:14-42; 14:1; 17:2, 10, 17; 18:4, 8; 19:8-9 that the word elaloumen, which is used in 16:13, does not describe Paul’s speeches in synagogues. Later he asserts that Paul begins “his preaching, as everywhere, in the Jewish community,” (38) but this could not have been in the synagogue because there simply was none m the city of Philippi. Wikenhauser admits that proseuchê means “synagogue [building],” but excludes that possibility for 16:13 because everywhere else in Acts Luke describes the place of assembly for worship as a sunagôgê. Therefore proseuchê “probably” means “nothing more than a (perhaps simple, but enclosed) place of prayer.”

Fourth, there are a few interpretations that differ from all the preceding. H H. Wendt (39) also prefers to read proseuchê to mean a place of prayer and explains: Such places were sometimes buildings, sometimes open spaces, and were found “in those cities . . . where there were or could be no synagogues, but they served the purpose of a synagogue.” Unfortunately he does not say why and in which cities there could not be synagogues. At the same time, he does not deny that what happens in a synagogue would also take place in a proseuchê! T. Zahn does not deny this, either. (40) He also understands a proseuchê to be a house of prayer or place of prayer. He gives more particular attention to the question and argues that this was not an “ordinary” synagogue, because first, Luke and the other gospel writers used the word sunagôgê to describe “the buildings for worship in which the Jewish communities were accustomed to assemble to read Scripture, preach, and pray”; second, Luke always introduces “the individual synagogues that Jesus and the apostles visited . . . with the definite article, as the synagogue of the place in question.” This presumes that there could have been only one synagogue in any given place. Consequently Zahn asks: “Why does he [Luke] express, through the use of proseuchê without the article, . . . the idea that there was such a thing in Philippi at all, if he wanted us to understand that this was the synagogue of the Jewish community in Philippi?” Finally, this must be connected with the fact “that only in this one passage does he indicate, regarding a Jewish place of prayer, where it was located within the city or its surrounding district.” For Zahn, the purpose of Luke’s expression is precisely to make a concrete statement that the Jewish place of prayer “was outside, on the river” Here, according to this exegete, everything was unusual, including the gathering! Nothing at all is said about the head of the synagogue as presider over the worship service, nor is there anything about his assistants. There are places to sit, “but one almost has the impression” that it was only a few pious Jewish women and proselyte women who were accustomed to gather there.” Finally, everything is said to point to the act that Philippi had only “small, undeveloped vestiges of the Sabbath service.” Nevertheless, it was also customary, and attested, that Jews were often accustomed to hold their worship services” outside the cities, by the water. The difficulty of understanding proseuchê in this context is especially evident in the case of Zahn. On the one hand, it does not describe a space in which the Jewish communities celebrated their worship service (including Scripture reading, interpretation, and prayer) because Luke always uses the word sunagôgê for such a place. On the other hand, it was customary for Jewish communities to hold services of worship in such places as well. In order to solve the problem, Zahn supposes that Philippi must have had a very underdeveloped incomplete worship service, because no “proper” presiding officer was present. At the same time, Zahn does not deny that this was a Sabbath worship service.

We find a very different argument and result in the commentary by Jürgen Roloff. (41) He begins by remarking that “in this Roman city the connection with the synagogue, customary elsewhere,” encountered “unusual difficulties” because the missionaries had to seek the Jewish house of God on their own, and when they went toward the river it was only because it was common for synagogues to be established in such districts! However, the commentator immediately poses the following question and provides an answer: “But was what they found there really a synagogue? It is true that the Greek word proseuche (= place of prayer) can also describe a synagogue; but when only women are mentioned as being there, this scarcely can indicate a regular synagogue worship service, for which at least ten men would have to be present.” (42) Consequently, the proseuchê must here be understood as a “place of prayer under the open sky.” G. Schille (43) also emphasizes the necessary presence or number of men at the synagogue service, but differently from Roloff. According to Schille, Luke himself has altered the tradition. Everything points to the fact that 16:13, like 13:14, is about Paul’s customary practice. Therefore we should suppose that the proseuchê is a synagogue: “Luke is thinking of a synagogue in which the teacher sits (cf. Luke 4:20).” But the fact that only women were gathered there could then “be interpreted only as an exceptional situation, since synagogue worship could only be conducted when at least twenty men were present.” Here, in contrast to Roloff’s opinion, the necessary number of men has been doubled, although Schille does not say where he got thi number. There is a fundamental difference between Roloff’s and Schille’s accounts: Schille can think of the assembly as an exceptional case, while Roloff does not even consider the possibility. We will return later to th problem of the necessary number of ten men as a precondition for constituting a synagogue worship service.

The principal reasons why the commentators think that the proseuchê in Philippi cannot be interpreted as a synagogue may be summarized as follows: first, there were no Jews, or very few, in Philippi; second, the word proseuchê is used in place of the usual sunagôgê; third, the only sons present are women. The first argument is very improbable on purely logical grounds, for if there had been no Jews or Jewish community in Philippi, why would the missionaries have been looking for a proseuchê and how could they have found one? That method of procedure would by no means be applicable to Paul and his missionary methods. The second and third reasons must be examined more closely.

First we should note that many commentators attempt to answer the question of the purpose of such a proseuchê by use of the arguments mentioned above. That is, they ask why the women were there; consequently, the place and the women’s gathering are made mutually interpretive. For most exegetes (44) (if they ask the question at all), the answer is simple: having decided that this passage is not about a synagogue in Philippi, they conclude that the proseuchê was the place where people gathered for prayer. They also think that women went there to pray. This is connected with their answer to the question of why the proseuchê was outside the city. Here, again, the answer is too facile: Because Jews were accustomed to making ritual ablutions before praying, the place of prayer (whether in the open air or not) was outside the city, at the riverside. According to this interpretation, the participation of the women in the religious activities of the Sabbath presents no problem They perform the ritual washing (of the hands), and then they pray. In this connection, the thought process of the exegetes is important to note: these are the only two activities that could have taken place, because there were no men present. To put it another way: because there were no men in the group, they did not have a “proper Jewish service of worship.” (45) The necessary conclusion these exegetes draw from their assumption that there was no “proper” synagogue in Philippi is that nothing happened here but ritual washing and prayers: No proper” synagogue, no “proper” service of worship.

A second group of exegetes differs from those just named, but still does not consider the proseuchê in Philippi a synagogue: this group is represented by H. H. Wendt and Theodor Zahn. (46) Although they do not see the proseuchê in Philippi as a synagogue, they conclude that it served the purpose of a synagogue. Wendt does not explain this statement more fully, but Zahn believes that we are dealing with “small, developed beginnings of a sabbath service.” However; neither author inquires how this service, however “undeveloped,” may have looked, since “only” women were gathered. Zahn tries to avoid this difficult situation by saying that “one almost gets the impression that only a few pious Jewish and proselyte women were accustomed to gather there ” By this he means to say that some men were, in fact, present; therefore the sabbath worship service could be celebrated, however “unusual” the circumstances!

Finally, we should also inquire whether exegetes who think that the proseuchê in Philippi was a synagogue building draw any conclusions from that assertion, and if so, which. To begin with, no one except Rudolf Pesch addresses this question. Therefore the suggestion that we should interpret the exclusive presence of women, as mentioned in the text, is something fully new, and comes from Pesch alone. (47) First of all this author quite correctly challenges the conclusion of many exegetes that the proseuchê in Philippi could not have been a synagogue because the text does not mention any men with whom the missionaries could have spoken. Then he introduces his own proposition: “one may also suppose that Paul and his companions sat down with the women who had gathered outside the synagogue, and that their interest, especially that of Lydia prevented them from going in to the synagogue service.” This attempt at a solution again makes it clear (and nowhere else does R. Pesch display as much imagination as he does here) what great difficulties exegetes have in dealing with this little bit of information in Acts 16:13b. Pesch had previously (on p. 104) pointed to the similarity between the formulation of this verse and that of Acts 13:14, but at the same time he minimizes the force of this observation by asserting that in Philippi the missionaries sat down with the women outside the synagogue. He offers no reasoning or citations to support this statement. The presupposition, and at the same time the consequence of such an assertion is, in my opinion, that “inside,” in the building itself, everything was going on in “normal” fashion: there we would find the men about whose presence our text is silent! The missionaries would have had no opportunity to preach to them because the women gathered “outside” prevented them from doing so. (48) If we wanted to carry this train of thought further, we could suppose that these women must have exercised a great deal of force to cause Paul to stop in response to their interest instead of following his traditional course on the Sabbath. But to speak seriously, Pesch’s proposal has the following consequences: Apparently our women were not taking part in the Jewish worship service, because they were not in the synagogue at all. The question of what had brought them there and gathered them together remains open since Pesch does not say explicitly what interest on the part of the women, “especially Lydia,” would have been able to restrain the missionaries from entering the synagogue. It would seem that Paul must have found some interest in the matter as well.

A survey of interpretations clarifies how difficult it is to take a clear position on the question of what the proseuchê in Philippi is meant to be. As we have already noted, no New Testament texts can be adduced for direct comparison, because there is no parallel to the use of this term as a description of a place: it occurs only in Acts 16:13, 16. However, the word analyses above have already indicated some points of contact in combination with such terms as sunerchesthai kathisein, and lalein. We should not lose sight of those contexts.

Literary and Inscriptional Material

In the interest of further clarification of the meaning of the women’s gathering and of the word proseuchê, we will take an interdisciplinary approach by examining extra-biblical sources (49) that, like Acts 16:13, use the word proseuchê As with the biblical texts, we must here refer to secondary literature. I will list some literary and inscriptional sources.

Literary Evidence

In particular, we want to examine the sources to see in what context they use the word proseuchê and what they mean by it. “They had synagogues, and . . . they were in the habit of visiting them, and most especially on the sacred sabbath days.” (50) Philo of Alexandria writes, in the Legatio ad Gajum 155-58, about the Jewish population of Rome whom Pompey had brought to Italy as prisoners of war and who had later been freed. Trastevere was the foreigners’ district, on the opposite bank of the Tiber, and most of them had settled there. (51) In this context, Philo speaks of the proseuchai of the Jewish people in Rome, where Jews gathered especially on the Sabbath, and where they were accustomed to interpret their laws. It is not surprising that Philo should speak of a number of synagogues in Rome; this is confirmed by other sources. For example, the grave inscription of a Gentile fruit seller speaks of a proseucha near the Republican Wall in Rome. (52)

Josephus also uses the word proseuchê to describe the synagogue building in reporting some episodes of Jewish intramural conflicts in Tiberias and Taricheae during the Jewish War: “On the next day . . .they all came into the Proseucha; it was a large edifice, and capable of receiving a great number of people.” (53) In the same context he writes at a few days later, when he returned from Taricheae to Tiberias, the multiude had already gathered in the synagogue building, (54) and in Vita293 he reports that, after arming himself because of the military situation, he also went into the synagogue: êlthon eis tên proseuchên There he was able to participate in the Jewish service of worship. (55) The community present, that is, the people in the proseuchê, are described as synodos “assembly” or “congregation.” (56) In this synagogue building they observe the nomia (“laws” or “duties”) (57) and the euchas (“prayers”); (58) that is, they celebrate the synagogue worship service According to Vita 277-303, however secular political problems were also discussed in the same place. (59) Josephus uses similar expressions in Antiquities 14.213-16 to describe the legal and religious relationship between the Jewish community in Delos and the Roman authorities at Paros. That community, which is here equated with a thiasos, a “collegium” or “society,” is not to be forbidden to use its ancestral customs in worship, that is, to gather as prescribed by its laws. Similarly, the decree of Halicarnassus (on the southwest coast of Asia Minor) confirms what the Romans permitted the Jews to do, for in Antiquities 14.257-58 Josephus writes: “. . . we aim to follow the people of the Romans, . . . [therefore] we have decreed, that as many men and women of the Jews as are willing so to do, may celebrate their Sabbaths, and perform their holy offices, according to the Jewish laws; and may make their proseuchae at the seaside, according to the customs of their forefathers.” (60) The decree of Sardis is similar (61) Jewish men, women, and children shall be permitted to gather on the appointed days, and to do everything their laws prescribe. For that purpose, a place of their own choosing, fit for the purpose, is to be set aside for them, as a building and habitation (topon … eis oikodomian kai megiston oikêsin). In this context, and in parallel to Vita 277 (eis tên proseuchê megiston oikêma), oikêsis can very well mean a synagogue building or community hall. (62)

The references in Josephus are few, but they show that the word proseuchê was known to him, also, in reference to a synagogue. The concept is much more familiar to Philo of Alexandria, appearing especially in his descriptions of the persecutions of the Jewish men and women in Alexandria. Destruction and plundering of their holy places— their proseuchai, of which there were many—were daily events, according to Legatio ad Gajum 132-38 and In Flaccum 6-7, 14, 41-54. We learn from Philo that the proseuchai were buildings in which the Jews interpreted their laws and preserved their customs, where they worshiped God and resisted to the death the setting up of images of Caesar, which for them constituted blasphemy. In summary, we may say that in the passages cited both Philo and Josephus use the word proseuchê to describe Jewish holy places, that is, synagogue buildings.

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Inscriptional Material

Numerous inscriptions and papyri show that the word proseuchê was common in the Greek-speaking diaspora at least from the third century BCE until the second century CE. (63) The oldest attestations of the existence of synagogue buildings, and also of the use of the word proseuchê in the diaspora, come from Egypt: from Shedia near Alexandria (OGIS 726) and from Arsinoë (Crocodilopolis) in Fayum (CPJ 3.1532A). The inscriptions list personal names and give a very precise dating for the existence of these synagogues: during the reign of King Ptolemy III Euergetes and Queen Berenice (246-221 b.c.e.). These inscriptions thus indicate the time when the buildings were erected, and constitute the oldest witnesses known to us for the existence of proseuchê in the diaspora. However, the use of the word proseuchê to describe a synagogue building is not restricted to that time period, as can be illustrated in the case of Arsinoë, where two further witnesses from different centuries also speak of the Jewish synagogue or synagogues there. Neither of these is a Jewish witness; both are legal documents of the city, from which we may conclude that the word proseuchê was known not only to the Jews themselves, but also among their non-Jewish fellow citizens, and that it was used as a precise designation for a Jewish synagogue building.

The Arsinoë papyri include one from the end of the second century B.C.E., describing the land surveys in Arsinoë-Crocodilopolis (CP] 1.134). The precise location of the proseuchê is indicated. It was bordered on the north by a “holy or sacral garden” (hiera paradeisos) belonging to a woman named Hermione; on the south the proseuchê bordered a fallow piece of ground” chersos) owned by Demetrius of Thrace. To the west was the “town boundary” (peristasis poleus i.e., Pomerium), and to the east was the “canal or ditch of Argaitis” (‘Argaitidos diôrux). The following may be emphasized here: (a) This proseuchê lay on the fringe of the town, near the water; (b) there would appear to have been other sanctuaries there as well, inasmuch as the papyrus mentions two hiera paradeisoi, one belonging to the synagogue itself, the other to Hermione; and (c) this is most probably the same proseuchê that is mentioned in CPJ 3″1532A. (64) The other Arsinoë papyrus (CPJ 2.432) is from the year 113 c.e. It documents the source of water and the bills for certain public installations during the reign of the emperor Trajan. Among the various buildings listed are the following: the “baths of Severianus, the “street well,” the “Macedonians’ well,” and “the brewery of the Sarapeion. ” Alongside these “public” institutions, two Jewish synagogues are also mentioned: a proseuchê Thêbaiôn and an eucheion (65)

What is especially striking in this papyrus is that the water bills for the synagogues are higher than any of the others, even including the bath-house. Each synagogue had to pay 128 drachmas per month, while the costs for the bath were only 72 drachmas and 18 oboli per month. Another difference is found in that, whereas all the other institutions had to pay a fixed, daily tax, so that the monthly bill constituted a sum of the individual days on which water was used, the synagogues had to pay a fixed monthly rate. A. Fuks (66) offers a series of suggestions to explain this situation. It could be that these different measures were not related to the exact quantity of water used, but that the tax was based on a special classification of customers, so that (as in the case of the synagogues) the same sum of 36 drachmas and 9 oboli had to be paid monthly for all the wells and fountains alike. But, according to Fuks, we would have to conclude from this that the various customers were assigned a rate corresponding to their average water usage, and in that case the amount of water used would still be the measure by which they were billed. If that were so, the synagogues would be the most extensive users of water in the whole metropolis of Arsinoe. The question necessarily arises: why and for what purpose did they use so much water? Fuks’s answer is based on certain insights derived from Jewish sources:

“The Jews of the period to which our papyrus [CP] 2.432] belongs were particular about the observance of the religious prescriptions concerning ceremonial purification and personal hygiene. There were connected with synagogues special arrangements for washing. . . . Also, sometimes there were boarding-houses connected with synagogues. . . . One has therefore to reckon with additional water for daily purposes.” (67)

But Fuks does not consider this a sufficient reason for the synagogue water bills to be so much higher. He therefore adopts the suggestion of A. C. Johnson, (68) which probably approximates the ordinary situation during the Roman era (113 C.E.). He proceeds on the assumption that “the ghetto [i.e., the Jewish section of the city] may have got its daily supply at the temple fountain.” That would mean that the water bills would cover not only the water used by the two synagogues for religious purposes, but also the daily usage of the whole Jewish population in Arsinoë. From that we could conclude that the synagogues were, a least in part, centers of daily Jewish life and communal organization.

This example from Arsinoë-Crocodilopolis thus illustrates the fact the word proseuchêwas used without exception, in both Jewish and non-Jewish sources extending over a period of several centuries, as designation for the synagogue building, the Jewish place of prayer in the Greek-speaking diaspora. That building was the common gathering place for a minority group attempting to maintain its identity in the diaspora. Such a religious and cultural center may in fact have included “a school, a hostel, a dining hall, even a kitchen,” (69) as we have already indicated in our discussion of CPJ 2.432.

Additional examples may be introduced to expand our understanding of Acts 16:13-16 within the context of its contemporary situation. These examples clearly show that the people who have left us indications about the conditions of their lives in these different sources had no difficulty in speaking of a proseuchê as something they had built or developed themselves, either in whole or in part. There are, for example, the numerous inscriptions concerning the building of a proseuchê, many of which are dedicatory, indicating who built the proseuchê (or caused it to be built), where, and at what period. Most of the known inscriptions are from Egypt in the second and first centuries B.C.E. Here are some examples: (70)

1. In Schedia, near Alexandria, Jews under King Ptolemy III Euergetes and Queen Berenice (246-221 b.c.e.) built their synagogue and dedicated it to the royal couple. (71)
2. In the same period, the Jewish community at Arsinoë-Crocodilopolis built a synagogue and dedicated it to the same royal pair (CPJ 3.1532A). The text is almost identical with that of the inscription just cited, and everything indicates that the two of them are the oldest evidence known to us of the existence of synagogue buildings in the diaspora.
3. A century later we find an inscription indicating that between the Years 143 and 117 B.C.E. an (entry) gate and synagogue were built in Xenephris in lower Egypt. (72)
4. At the same time, Jews in Nitriai dedicated their synagogue and its furnishings to the royal couple, Ptolemy and Cleopatra, whom they called “benefactors.” (73)
5. Also, from the second century B.C.E is a badly damaged inscription found in Hadra, near Alexandria. (74)
6. CPJ 3.1443 represents an inscription from the synagogue at Athribis . The period of its origin is uncertain, but the names of King Ptolemy and Queen Cleopatra, to whom it is dedicated, point to the second or first centuries b.c.e. (75)
7. Another inscription from Athribis, from about the same time indicates that a family has added a colonnaded vestibule to the synagogue building. (76)

8.There is documentation for a synagogue building in the southwest quarter of the city of Alexandria (Gabbary) in about 37-36 b.c.e. (77)

9. Finally, there is an inscription of unknown origin from the first or second century c.e., according to which a family has built the synagogue. (78)

On the basis of such inscriptional evidence for the use of proseuchê and the archaeological and historical commentary on it by the editors of various collections of inscriptions, there can be no doubt that in every case it refers to a building in which the Jewish communities of the diaspora gathered. Most of the evidence is from Egypt, and it is also the oldest. But there are inscriptions from elsewhere: (a) Two from Pantikapaion on the Black Sea, from the year 81 c.e., document the manumission of slaves. They indicate that the proseuchê was also the place where slaves were set free. (79) (b) In addition, we have inscriptional evidence from Delos from the first century b.c.e.: dedicatory inscriptions were found within a humble group of houses, including CII 726 (‘Agathoklês kai Lusimachos epi proseuchê) and another inscription discovered in the years 1979-80 (Oi en Dêlô Israêlitai . ..kataskeuasanta kai anathenta ek tôn idiôn epi proseuchê tou theou. .), (80) which apparently refer to a synagogue building, (c) Josephus reports on events in the synagogues at Tiberias and Taricheae (Vita 277-82). (d) The popular decree of Halicarnassus permitted the Jewish congregation to build a synagogue near the water (Josephus, Ant. 14.257-58). (e) Philo reports on the Jewish prisoners of war transported from Egypt to Rome and later released, and describes their synagogue buildings in Rome (Leg. Gaj. 155-57). (f) CII 1.531 is a tomb inscription referring to the synagogue at the Republican Wall in Rome.

Preliminary Conclusions and Food for Thought

The evidence for the use of proseuchê found in Egypt and other places within the Greek-speaking diaspora permits us to draw the following conclusion: The proseuchê in Philippi that is mentioned in Acts 16: 13-16 can be no different from all the other proseuchai mentioned in the literary and inscriptional evidence. They are all synagogue buildings in which the Jewish community of a particular town or city gathers, primarily on the Sabbath, to worship God. This has been asserted by other scholars in similar fashion. (81) Speculations about why Luke uses the word proseuchê which was common in his time and place, only in Acts 16-13.in place of sunagôgê which he uses everywhere else, bring us no farther. It is not true to say that the location of the proseuchê outside of the city of Philippi was something exceptional: the description of the place in Acts 16:13, exô tês pyles para potamon, “outside the gate by the river;” has almost identical parallels in other sources. (82)

Thus the statement of Acts 16:13 is not a single, isolated instance in its contemporary situation, nor is it by any means contradictory to that situation. The best answer to the speculative proposals mentioned above seems to be that Luke’s report rests on a source, and that it transmits the content of the source virtually without alteration. (83) According to this source, then, women were gathered on the Sabbath in the synagogue at Philippi, and the missionaries, after seating themselves, interpreted Scripture for them. But, although this statement of the text corresponds to the circumstances of the period, many exegetes have difficulty with it. They assert that if only women were gathered, this could not have been a synagogue in which divine worship was celebrated.

This is a conclusion drawn from rabbinic sources. Thus, for example, Jürgen Roloff (84) rests his argument on Billerbeck, (85) who cites, for example, Megilla 23b: “The introduction to the shema is not repeated, nor does one pass before the ark, nor do [the priests] lift their hands, nor is the Torah read [publicly], nor the Haftarah read from the prophet, . . . save in the presence of ten.” Billerbeck, in interpreting his sources, always speaks of “ten persons,” who make up the “minyan.” The sources say nothing about “ten men.” Thus the eda, the “congregation,” presumes a minimum of “ten [persons].” (86) But Roloff interprets this passage, and Billerbeck’s comment, to refer expressly to “ten men,” without whom no regular service of worship could have been held. (87) In referring to rabbinic sources we should be aware that they do not present a unified picture. B. J. Brooten has presented sources that give nowledge of the presence and leadership of women in the Jewish synagogue, showing that rabbinic sources also contain information about women’s active participation in religious life. (88) For example, there are two basic statements about the participation of women in the reading of the Torah in the Sabbath service: (89) according to Megilla 23a and 24a , minors and women may be counted among the  manin shabah (the seven who read the Torah aloud in worship). That is the first part of statement in Megilla 23a. But the second part restricts the first and contradicts it, because it says that women should not read (publicly) from the Torah. Such contradictions should not be elided, because they can shed light on the history of the wealth of conflict and debate within the Jewish community over the process by which religious norms of behavior were to be discussed and finally laid down as rules. In any case, women could study Torah, and demonstrably they had leadership functions in the synagogue. (90) And as far as the “minyan” is concerned B. J. Brooten bases her statement on a whole variety of sources and interpretations when she says that “the rabbinic inclusion of women in the quorum of the seven attests to a more ancient tradition, later supressed, according to which women were allowed to read from the Torah in public.” (91)

In light of the reflections presented above, there is no compelling reason to restrict the participation of the group of women in Philippi in the Sabbath activities to ritual washings and (probably silent) prayers. On the contrary: Acts 16:13-15 can serve precisely as an “attestation of women’s presence at Jewish worship services.” (92) Our text, in fact, says nothing against women’s participation in the Sabbath service; on the contrary: the word study (sunerchesthai + kathezein + lalein) at the beginning of this chapter has shown that the whole story permits us to discern in it the Sabbath practices of the synagogue. (93) The process of patriarchalization, in Christianity as in Judaism, certainly ran a multi- faceted and tension-filled course to the point at which certain rules and norms were fixed (and even beyond that point). And the contradictions within the Pauline literature (94) regarding the participation of women in worship and community life are matched by similar contradictions in the rabbinic sources.

Reconstructing the Story of Lydia

Acts 16:13-15 should be regarded as a source for investigation of women’s participation in Jewish (Sabbath) religious praxis and the history of women in general. Therefore I want to give attention to this woman who belonged to that group of women, and who herself is more precisely delineated. The details of the story concern her social, economic, and religious circumstances. According to Acts 16:14-15:

“A certain woman named Lydia, a worshiper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth [porfirópolis]. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Pau1′. When she and Her household were baptized, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.” And she prevailed upon us.”

I intend to examine some of the significant attributes of Lydia, as delivered to us by Luke, in order to reconstruct at least part of her story. They depict Lydia in her religious, social, and economic surroundings, and they can give us clear evidence about her origins. In this reconstruction I will make use of historical sources and refer to the results of historical and New Testament scholarship.

“A Worshiper of God”

According to Acts 16:14, Lydia was a worshiper of God (sebomenê ton theon). (95) This designation connects Lydia with the synagogue context and with th Sabbath service. It directs our attention more broadly to a particular religious group attached to Judaism: the “god-fearers.”

According to a general consensus in New Testament research, the god-fearers were Gentiles attracted to Judaism, but unconverted, not having been circumcised. As associates of or sympathizers with Judaism, they participated in synagogue worship, kept the Noachic laws, and practiced religious monotheism. (96) This consensus rests primarily on the classic work of K. G. Kuhn, whose summary definition of the group follows:

“More numerous [than the proselytes] was the group of Gentiles who attended synagogue worship, believed in Jewish monotheism, and kept some part of the ceremonial law, but who did not take the step of full conversion to Judaism by circumcision. As distinct from proselytes these were called sebomenoi or phoboumenoi ton theon.” (97)

It appears from this that the god-fearers were more numerous than the Proselytes because they did not have to be circumcised—and yet they continued to be regarded by both the Jews and the proselytes as unclean because they were uncircumcised), and therefore as less than their equals, as inferior. (98)

It is striking that scholars’ definition of proselytes, sebomenoi, and phoboumenoi applies only to males, since circumcision is regarded as the princial sign of full or less than full adherence to Judaism. These scholars mention women only in passing, but they also assert that there were more women proselytes than men. Women are mentioned in connection with circumcision, as is clear from the following statement which has been foundational for New Testament research:

“. . . Josephus’s information about proselytes in the Jewish-Hellenistic diaspora [reflects] the fact [!], attested elsewhere, . . . that the Jewish mission enjoyed its principal success among women. This can be explained in part, at least, by the circumstance that for them conversion to Judaism was easier than for men, because neither circumcision nor sacrifice was required of them. “(99)

And yet it appears that women were more numerous than men not only among the proselytes (of whom circumcision was required), but also among the “god-fearers” (of whom no circumcision was required)! (100) This fact alone must cast doubt on the category of circumcision as decisive for full adherence to Judaism. As a category of explanation, it is sexist and unjust toward women. And yet “god-fearing” women in the New Testament are continually described in scholarly writing according to the model of “god-fearing” men, especially Cornelius. The same is true of Lydia: exegetes attempt to explain the description of Lydia as sebomene ton theon by equating it with the description of Cornelius in Acts 10:2 as eusebês kai; phoboymenos ton theon. We may mention R. Pesch as an example: in treating Acts 16:14 (101) he asserts: “She [Lydia] was one of the ‘god-fearers’ (cf. at 10:2) in Philippi.” The reference to Acts 10:2 is unequivocal. In commenting on this passage, he writes: “The Roman officer Cornelius . . . [belongs] to the group of ‘god-fearers,’ who were attached to the synagogue, but had not completed their conversion to Judaism through circumcision.” (102)

But besides circumcision there were other important characteristics that designated a proselyte. They must be taken seriously if we are to understand the role of women in this religious movement. The marks of a male proselyte were circumcision, baptism (= ceremonial bath), and the presentation of a sacrifice in the Temple. (103) It is said that women were not required to bring a sacrifice. (104) From this it is concluded that for female proselytes baptism was “the only act of initiation,” (105) and it alone characterized them as initiates. The “god-fearers” are said to have been exempted from fulfilling this condition. However they, together with the proselytes, must certainly have participated at least in the “instruction,” (106) which then brought them into a common association. When Josephus writes “. . . let no one wonder that there was so much wealth in our temple, since all the Jews throughout the habitable earth, and those that worshiped God, nay, even those of Asia and Europe, sent their contributions to it, and this from very ancient times,” (107) the sebomenoi ton theon (108) are certainly included in the presentation of sacrificial offerings. (109) What ultimately separated male proselytes from male “god-fearers” was baptism and circumcision: among women, the only difference was baptism. (110)

The substantive formed from the verb sebesthai (ton theon) is used in the New Testament only by Luke, and only in the book of Acts. That book speaks of the sebomenoi only after the description of the first missionary journey of Paul and his companions, and it is not used again after the end of the second missionary journey. More precisely, the word appears for the first time at 13:43 and for the last time at 18:7; moreover, it is mainly used in connection with the synagogue: 13:43; 16:14; 17:4, 17. After Paul (and Barnabas), at the request of the leaders of the synagogue, had explained the law and the prophets in the synagogue at Pisidian Antioch, many Jewish men and women and sebomenôn proselytôn followed them (13:43). It is difficult to decide whether these are “god-fearers” (specifically addressed in w. 16 and 26 as phoboymenoi ton theon), or proselytes, emphatically described as “pious.” (111) In Thessalonica, also (17:1-4), Paul went to the synagogue on the Sabbath, as was his custom, and on three successive Sabbaths explained the Scripture to those present, applying his interpretation to the fulfillment of Scripture in Jesus’ messiahship. Some of those present believed what Paul said and became his and Silas’s followers. In Athens as well (17:16-17), Paul goes to the synagogue and speaks to and with the Jews and devotees he finds there, although there is no report of success or lack thereof with respect to the Jews and others present, because the text immediately (from v. 17b onward) shifts attention to the events on the Areopagus.

The scenes in 13:50 and 18:7, which do not take place within the synagogue itself, are nevertheless associated with the events in the synagogue.

Paul was asked to speak the word of the Lord in the synagogue at Antioch a second time. This took place in the presence of almost the whole city (13:44ff.). After the controversy between Paul and his fellow Israelites in Antioch, Jewish men and women aroused the devout women high standing and the leaders of the city and provoked a persecution against Paul and Barnabas (v. 50). Something similar happened in Corinth, where the missionary activity of Paul was at first persuasive among Jews and Greeks (18:4-5), but again led to conflicts, at which point he announced that he would go to the Gentiles (v. 6). Instead, however, he goes to the house of the “god-fearer,” Titius Justus next door to the synagogue. It is also reported that the head of the synagogue believed in the Lord, with his whole household and many Corinthian men and women, and they all were baptized (w. 7-8).

In light of the passages from Acts just adduced, we may conclude:

First, sebomenoi (ton theon ), often mentioned in association with Jews appear only from the point at which Paul and his fellow missionaries have begun “to go into the synagogue” in the cities of the diaspora where there are existing Jewish communities with which non-Jews are associated. They do not appear again after Acts 18:7. It is not accidental that after Acts 19:8 (Ephesus) we no longer read of Paul’s going into the synagogues. (112) Sebomenoi then, are usually mentioned in connection with the synagogue and are associated with the synagogue in some way.

Second, we cannot deduce from these passages in Acts that god-fearers were generally despised or regarded as inferior by the Jews because the males in the group were not circumcised.(113)

Third, the complete expression sebomenê/sebomenos ton theon appears only twice: in 16:14 for Lydia, and in 18:7 for Titius Justus. Otherwise we find only the adjective without the accusative. Whether the simple adjective always means “god-fearers,” persons associated with Judaism, is questionable insofar as it is used in a general sense as a “typical expression of Greek piety.” (114) According to Acts 19:27, Diana is also worshiped sebesthai, which shows that the simple verb or its substantive form need not always refer to those associated with Judaism. In the expanded expression, the accusative serves to designate the deity who is worshiped. Since terms like theos, theos hypsistos or kyrios were regarded in the Greek-speaking diaspora as designations of the Jewish god, (115) there can be no doubt that sebomenê/sebomenos ton theon means “worshipers of [the Jewish] god,” the more so when such expressions appear in connection with the synagogue.

Fourth, it is not easy to discern the social status and economic-political connections of the sebomenoi (ton theon) from the passages in Acts where the term appears. It appears to me that it is incorrect with respect both to method and to the content of the material to make Acts 13:50 a rule governing all the others, because this fails to take account the emphasis in the text, namely that “devout women of high standing” are the subject, and not all devout women in general. I also see it as methodologically problematic to interpret all “god-fearers analogy with Cornelius, that is, to take Cornelius as the typical example representing all statuses. Christian exegetes believe that Christianity recruited very strongly from the ranks of the “god-fearers,” who are supposed to have been of considerable significance for Judaism, both economically and terms of local politics. Christians are thought to have brought Jewish enmity upon themselves by attracting these people away from Judaism. Folker Siegert writes: “Women of high standing among god-fearers appear with remarkable frequency in Acts [the reference is to 13:50; 16:14; 17:4, 12]. The Jews had . . . particular success among women: those of high standing were especially useful to them in local politics and economically as well. That is why the bitter enmity of the Jews repeatedly lashed out at the Christian missionaries (116) Rudolf Pesch formulates his interpretation as follows, in commenting on Acts 17:4: “The fact that the missionaries enticed women from prominent circles away from the synagogue is an understandable reason for Jewish ‘jealousy.’ ” (117) He also writes, with regard to Acts 17:12: “Again the synagogue (cf. 4c) has women ‘of high standing’ (cf. Luke 8:3 [!]; Acts 13:50) among the god-fearers, who are now converted [to Christianity].” (118) We need not contest the fact that there were rich women with influence in local politics who often espoused the Jewish religion and used their position to lend it political and economic support. Many such women are documented in the literature and in inscriptions. (119) But to generalize from that fact to the idea that god-fearers belonged exclusively or overwhelmingly to the upper classes is, in my opinion, not a correct conclusion from the evidence. Acts, in fact, mentions devout women of high standing only in 13:50 and 17:4, 12. These passages attest that devout women from the upper classes did not always and everywhere attach themselves to the (Christian) missionaries.(120)

It is evident from both inscriptional and literary material that women were particularly inclined to accept and practice the Jewish religion. A story recorded by Josephus (121) tells us that almost all the women of Damascus, (122) Queen Helena of Adiabene, and the “women that belonged to the king” in Charax Spasini on the Persian Gulf (123) had converted to Judaism.

Although the words sebomenoi and phoboymenoi (ton theon) and do not appear in inscriptions, to my knowledge, (124) the Latin concept of metuens/ metuentes can be regarded as synonymous with sebomenoi or phoboymenoi (125) Appearances of these words can not only support the existence of “God-fearers” but also substantiate the thesis that it was especially women who adopted the Jewish religion, for the existing tomb inscriptions, with one exception, also mention the names of those who have died. They are Larciae Quadrati(llae), (126) Maiania Homeris, (127) a woman whose name is lost, (128) Aurelia Soteria, (129) and Aelia Criste mentioned alongside Aelius Priscilianus (her husband). (130) One inscription retains the name of an Emilio Valenti. (131) Apart from these inscriptions, so far as I know, there are no others that mention metuens/ metuentes. Of six inscriptions, four name only women, one names a married couple, and one a man. But if the Latin word colens (deum) can also be regarded as a synonym for “worshipers of god,” (132) we have a further indication of “god-fearers.” Again it is a woman, Julia Irene Arista, who is named. (133)

The inscriptions mentioned above give us clear information only about the gender of the “god-fearers.” In my opinion, these inscriptions permit no absolute certainty or general conclusion regarding the economic or sociopolitical status of the “god-fearers.” (134) At best, something more concrete can be drawn from texts. But even when the text gives key information about a “god-fearer,” no all-encompassing thesis can be derived from it,(135) because “there is no historical information to show that the god-fearers appeared within the life of the Jewish or Gentile society as a circumscribed, cohesive group, so that one could speak of them as a [social] class. (136)

The text of Acts 16:14, unlike all the other passages that mention sebomenoi (ton theon), takes pains to describe certain qualities of the devout Lydia, and it does not—as do 13:50; 17:4, 12—say that she was “well-to-do” or “of high standing,” but speaks very simply and at the same time in detail of her profession and place of origin. In order to be able to better describe her socio-economic situation, we will, in what follows, investigate her work world.

It is difficult to ascertain from the sources why more women than men accepted and practiced the Jewish way of life. (137) Luise Schottroff has shown that the Jewish religion must have offered women—as in the case of the “king’s women” in Charax Spasini—”a possibility to express the identity of women as a group, an identity that did not exist before.” (138) Indeed, in that religion also it is demonstrable that women could share in leadership functions. (139)

Lydia’s Employment

The text says of Lydia that she was a porphuropôlis. The word is universally translated as “dealer in purple cloth.” The text itself tells us nothing further about that profession. We may suppose that in that place and context further explanation was unnecessary, since the profession was known. But what kind of work did Lydia do, and how was it regarded ? First we will consider the commentaries, and then the literary and inscriptional material

A Review of New Testament Commentaries

Current New Testament exegesis has a distinct idea about this profession. Observations are not focused on the precise meaning of the job tself but on what can be deduced from it about the social position of Lydia. Thus at the end of the last century J. Felten (140) categorically asserted that Lydia was well-to-do, “since dealing in purple required a substantial capital because of the costliness of the material, and she [Lydia] exhibited a great degree of hospitality (see v. 15).” Other exegetes have followed this and similar statements. (141) Only a few fail to draw like conclusions from this description of Lydia’s profession . (142) Gottfried Schille is the only commentator of this century who does not presume Lydia’s wealth as a given: “It is not evident that Lydia was wealthy.” (143) The argumentation and the evidence produced is fragmentary on both sides; some do not even bother to offer any argument. When some point out that there were purple dyeing works or a “purple industry” in Thyatira, they apparently do so in order to give a “solid” basis to the presumption of Lydia’s wealth and to explain it through this circumstance. Expressions like “having a great deal of capital at her disposal,” “luxury goods,” and “lucrative business” quickly follow.

Overall, the traditional exegesis has failed to ask what kind of work Lydia really did. With the exception of Schille, the interpreters simply presume that work with purple dye, or purple goods, had made Lydia a rich woman. We will now test this presumption by examining the meaning of the statement that Lydia was a porphuropôlis from Thyatira.

Lydia’s Origins

The text finds it important to emphasize that Lydia came from Thyatira. In seeking further information about Thyatira, I will concentrate principally on business and trade in that place.

Thyatira: A Long Lydian Tradition of Textile Work

It appears from the inscriptions cited in the following notes that there were a great many workers both sexes in the Lydian city of Thyatira who were organized into guilds. There were bakers, (144) potters or ceramicists (145) tanners, (146) leather workers and shoemakers, (147) blacksmiths, (148) linen weavers, (149) woo1 spinners, (150) tailors, (151) and finally dyers. (152) The last three categories describe workers who were especially representative of the Lydian region. Textile work, especially making and working with woollen stuffs, is also attested in Ephesus (153) and Philadelphia. (154)

It is true that the inscriptions CIG 3496 and 3497, which attest the presence of bapheis, “dyers,” in Thyatira, are from the time of Caracalla, (155) when the dye works and clothing manufactories had already been in the hands of the Roman empire for some time and were under the emperor’s direct control. (156) But Thyatira had been famous from earliest times for its textile production and the dye works associated with it. (157) It is all the more amazing that there are no inscriptions from Thyatira that mention, for example, porphurobapheis“purple dyers,” (158) but only bapheis “dyers.” This detail has been overlooked or suppressed by the commentators, although in my opinion it is important. If these inscriptions make no special mention of purple dyers, this means that a variety of colors were made there, and not uniquely purple dye.

Lydia comes from a region known for the production of dyed wool and woollen clothing. No one denies that work with wool was an activity typical of women.

“She kept house, she made wool.”

 

Dyeing was part of the production and preparation of wool. It is even said that the dyeing of wool was a Lydian invention. (159) The invention of linen weaving is also ascribed to Arachne, who was a Lydian. (160) It is no accident or poetic invention that Lydian women were repeatedly mentioned in connection with textile dyeing. (161)

Making wool thread and cloth and working with them had been a typical work of women from the most ancient times, as is clear from part of the tomb inscription of Claudia in Rome: domum servavit, lanam fecit (“she kept house, she made wool”). (162) Here as in Prov. 31:10-31 (LXX), we find an expression of the ideal of womanhood that, like the myth of Arachne, sheds light on concrete conditions: a gunaika andreian, a “capable woman,” should or does produce, among other things, textiles and clothing for everyone’s use, that is, for herself and all the members of her household. She makes them with her own hands, of wool and flax; she dyes the cloth purple and spins it. “capable woman” is not one of the poor (31:20), but she herself has no slaves. She works with her own hands. Words derived, for example, from poiein (“to make,” “to manufacture”), cheiras(“hands”), endyein (“clothe”) appear with remarkable frequency in Prov. 31:10-31. In this passage porphyra, “purple,” refers to clothing or material made and dyed by the housewife herself, and used for her own and others’ clothing. She is able to enjoy the results of her own labor: 31:31 emphasizes this fact. Cicero also knows of a woman named Lamia in the city of Segeste on the northern coast of Sicily (in this case, a wealthy woman) like the women of other households, makes wool and produces purple-dyed cloth and clothing. (163)

Proverbs 31:10-31, CIL 1.2.1211, and Cicero all show that the work of making textiles was at first restricted to the household or extended family But even when it was for the most part produced in business establishments, it remained mainly a woman’s task, (164) so that the imperial clothing factories from the third century onward were still known as gynaecea/gynaeciarii. (165) It is therefore historically correct to read the inscriptions that speak of bapheis as referring to female dyers as well as men. In this connection, we can already anticipate what is to come by saying that in the exercise of this profession, women were not restricted to the household as the place of their activity.

Wherever textiles were produced and used in the manufacture of finished products, dye-stuffs were highly important: “Dye-stuff plays a major part in the coloring of textiles; in all cases it is a question of organic dyes. In antiquity, this special application was restricted primarily to coloring materials extracted from plants.” (166)

The Business of Purple Dye and Purple Cloth

What was understood at that time under the designation “purple”? How was purple cloth produced and sold? It is important to observe how differently work was evaluated in those times. Here again, we must consult both literary and inscriptional material.

The Many Shadings of a Concept

The word porphyra, Latin purpura, has three principal meanings. Its first reference is to a type of sea snail. There were two kinds: (167) the kêrex (bucinum, murex) and the porphyra (purpura, pelagia). From the latter tne original, animal purple dye was extracted: the second reference of word is to this dye, and the third meaning of the word is the dyed material itself, purple cloth. (168)

The word appears in biblical texts, mainly in its third meaning as purple cloth or clothing: 1 Macc. 4:23 (LXX); Luke 16:19; Mark 15:17, 20. Revelation 17:4; 18:12, 16 also indicate, in my opinion, that there we different types and qualities of purple cloth.

First Maccabees 4:23 says that, after the battle, Judas despoiled the vanquished and took away chrusion polu kai argyrion hyakinthon kai pophyran thalassian kai plouton megan as booty. This is always translated as: “they seized a great amount of gold and silver, and cloth dyed blue and sea purple, and great riches.” The sequence of the listing according to the value of what was taken. Another meaning for hyakinthon is “jacinth” (a semiprecious stone); (169) in that case the text would read “and they seized a great amount of gold and silvery jacinth, sea purple and great riches.” Or it may be that hyakinthon is intended to draw a clear distinction between plant and animal purple dye; that is, the text would be speaking of dye extracted from the hyacinth (blue) and from sea creatures (purple). (170) The phrase pophyran thalassian is, in any case quite specific and indicates that there were other types of purple that were not made from animal dyes.

Whereas Rev. 17:4; 18:12, 16 distinguish the types of purple in a series ordered according to value, using different terms for each (porphyra, kokkinon) , the situation in other texts is more complicated because the same word, porphyra, is used to describe items of different value. This can be illustrated by looking at Luke 16:19 and Mark 15:17, 20 in their respective contexts. Whereas the wearing of purple in Luke 16:19 can be a sign of wealth, this is not the case in Mark 15:17, 20. There the persons involved are common soldiers, and their action in clothing Jesus in a purple cloak is symbolic and intended to ridicule Jesus. That the word porphyra was used without always referring to a symbol of luxury status is clear from these same passages in Mark. It is made still, more obvious by Matthew’s correction of this story: Matt. 27:28 refers to a clamyda kokkinên, a “soldier’s purple [or scarlet] cloak.” Matthew makes an alteration here to make clear what porphyra means: that there were many types and qualities of purple subsumed under the same heading. Matthew is making an effort to be specific at this point. (171)

The Manufacture of Various Kinds of Purple Dye and Purple Cloth

The word porphyra(purpura) does not always refer to the original dye* stuff extracted from snails or to the cloth dyed with that substance;’ can also describe colors and colored materials that merely resemble tn original. (172) Two processes quite frequently used to produce an imitation of the original purple have been known for a long time: (173) first, various types of purple dye extracted from snails are mixed to produce, among other things, a cheaper “genuine” purple; second, certain plants wet also used to produce a purple color. For Pliny it is a matter of course that in wool production both animal dyes (that is, those extracted from snails and plant dyes will be used. (174) Among the colors for various purposes that he mentions, he also distinguishes individual types and qualities of animal purple obtained by particular combinations, (175) all of which he ultimately categorizes among the artificially produced colors (176) This artificial purple is not only “diluted,” but is also produced by adulterating nature’s adulterations.” (177) The different types and qualities of purple are also associated with particular localities. Thus, for example, there was the good, original purple produced especially in Tyre (in Asia), Meninx (in Africa), Laconia (in Europe), and Puteoli (in Europe). (178) It appears from Pliny, Naturalis Historia 35.45, that there was an inferior, cheaper type from Canosa (in Apulia). Prices differed accordingly, with the cost of a pound varying from 1 to 30 denarii. (179)

In Lydia it seems that purple dye was produced in many cities, including the capital at Sardis, being derived from coccum (180) and even from saltpeter (nitrum) dried in the sun. (181) In Hierapolis in Phrygia, where there were both porphurobapheis and ordinary bapheis, (182) it was also possible, because of the character of the water, to extract a famous purple dye from roots that are no longer known today. (183) Thus there was purple derived from plants; the color was not inferior to that extracted from animals, and it was used for the dyeing of wool. Pliny writes:

‘Moreover, we know that clothes are dyed with a wonderful dye from a plant, and, to say nothing of the fact that, of the berries of Galatia, Africa, and Lusitania, the “coccum” [granis coccum] is specially reserved to color the military cloaks of our generals, Transalpine Gaul can produce with vegetable dyes Tyrian purple, oyster purple, and all other colors.’ (184)

Among the plants used for the production of purple vegetable dye were husgê (granis coccum),hyakinthos or hyacinth (= vaccinium or “blueberry” and eruthrodenon (rubia or “madder”). (185) It appears from Natualis Historia 35.45 that both the animal and vegetable dyes were called Purple,” for in Puteoli purple was produced from the juice of hysginum(” crimson”) and rubia (“madder”). Rubia was used for a number of purposes: in addition to its medical use it served “to dye wool and to tan leather.” (186) Pliny remarks elsewhere that this plant is known “only to the avaricious herd [sordido], ” namely for the dyeing of wool and leather. (187)

This purple extracted from plants was also used for slaves’ clothing. (188) Cicero reports, in addition, that the beds in slaves’ sleeping chambers bore the purple coverlets of Gnaeus Pompeius. (189) He is also aware that not all purples are the same: for example, he knows that the original type comes from Tyre, but that there is also a purpura plebeia. (190) The distinction among types of purple is also found in Quintilian, who makes use of the symbolic quality of the color to describe the art of oratory and the clothing then associated with it; (191) he is also aware of “adulterations” or imitations of the genuine, animal purple. (192)

Thyatira is mentioned for its dyeing establishments both in literature and in inscriptions. Nowhere, however, is it said that purple extracted from animals was involved in those operations. Since the evidence does not emphasize this, it appears more likely that the dye works in Thyatira produced vegetable purple. Mention of wool production accords well with the existence of dye works, since both operations were ordinarily carried on in tandem. Because the inscriptions at Thyatira make no mention of porphurobapheis, scholarly discussion outside the New Testament field has assumed that the dyers in Thyatira extracted their purple dye from rubia. (193) The theologians M. Clévenot and C.J. Hemer similarly assert that “In Lydia . . . the city of Thyatira was known for the madder root that grew in its fields, while sheep and goats provided the necessary material for the production of cloth and wool blankets.” (194) “Its [Thyatira’s] purple dye came from the madder root rather than the marine murex, and the use of this substance is attested in the district until the present century.” (195) On the basis of this information that purple dye and cloth were made in Thyatira from madder roots, we can understand why K. Schneider (196) does not include Thyatira in a long list of cities in which animal purple was produced and utilized: he is primarily concerned with the production of animal purple, but not with vegetable purple dyes.

Nevertheless, I believe we may be quite certain about the basis of purple production in Thyatira. In spite of the opinions of Clerc, Clévenot, and Hemer, (197) it appears to me that there is no absolutely clear evidence, and for that very reason we may not presume beforehand that it is a question of superior products or luxury articles. In light of the sources that have come to light, indeed, it is historically very probable that the purple of Thyatira was made from vegetable materials. This, and the vegetable-mineral mixed purple, were also produce in the purpurariis (officinis), as we see from Pliny, Naturalis Historia 35.44-46, and 9.140-41. But the fact that purple dye was extracted, for example, from madder roots is not merely something derived from evidence of ancient writers and artists. People are still working with the same substance today. (198) Hence, to say that the bapheis the “dyers,” in Thyatira were solely purple dyers is a historical misunderstanding or a simplification of the manifold range of methods available at that time for the production and imitation of dye-stuffs. This simplification can also be observed in New Testament exegesis. In my opinion, it is used to lend support to the idea, current in today’s wealthy Western world, that Lydia the first Christian in “Europe,” was herself a wealthy woman.

Was Lydia a European Wholesaler?

There is no literary or inscriptional evidence for the existence of specialized wholesale merchants in Thyatira who devoted themselves to the sale of products such as purple dye or purple cloth. It was different, for example, in Tyre, where there were emporoi and nayklêroi(mercatores), “wholesalers,” who subsequently settled in Puteoli and Rome. (199) Hence it is also not particularly remarkable that historians only mention Lydia at the point when they treat bapheis “dyers;” (200) they put Lydia in the context of the dyers’ trade. Dio Chrysostomus (201) asserts that it is much cheaper (costing only two or three minas) to buy kalên porphyran “good purple-dyed material” direct from the dyers. (202) This also agrees with the Latin word purpurarius/a, the Latin equivalent of pophuropôlês/is, referring to people who work both in dyeing and in the sale of the dyed products. (203) We will refer to this inscriptional usage again later.

This work brought Lydia, who grew up in the Lydian tradition of wool production and wool working, to Philippi. How and from whom she learned this work can be guessed in connection with her religious adherence. (204) Lydia is further evidence that women’s work with textiles did not remain confined to the household, but that they took to the road or were compelled to travel in order to sell what they produced. Lydia is not an isolated example. We find inscriptional evidence of a married couple on the island of Cos in which both the man and his wife had the same job description as Lydia. (205) However, the Latin equivalent, purpurarius/a, is much more common.(206) It is striking that in most cases the inscriptions mention not individuals, but whole groups. Most of these groups are made up of women and men, (207) but women were apparently numerous, and often constituted a majority within the group, as CIL 6.984, 9848 attest.

“DIRTY WORK.” A Passage in Cicero (De Off. 1.42, 150-51) clearly reveals the estimation of various professions and occupations that existed in the society  of the time, as set down by Cicero. He here lists the occupations worthy (liberales) of a free person and those that are unworthy (inliberales) and filthy (sordidi); in doing so, he reflects “the ideas of a powerful elite.” (208)

“. . . ungentlemanly and sordid are the earnings of hired hands who are paid for their physical efforts rather than their skill; for the very wages they receive are a token of slavery. Retail dealers are little better, for they have little to gain unless they are pretty dishonest, and deserve no credit if they are. The occupation of a craftsman is also to be scorned, for what well-born man could possibly spend his time in a workshop (officina)?”
Honorable and worthy of free persons are professions like medicine, architecture, teaching, and wholesale trade combined with the possession of large landed estates:

“Those professions which require skilled training, or fulfil a useful function, such as medicine, architecture or the teaching of the liberal arts, are reputable for those whose station in life they suit. The career of a merchant (mercatura) is only to be despised (sordida) if pursued on a small scale, but if it includes large and valuable transactions and imports from all over the world … it is not so much to be condemned; in fact, if those who indulge in it become satisfied or at any rate are prepared to be content with their profits, and retire from the harbor to their country estates just as they had frequently retired to the harbor from the sea, this seems to be entirely commendable. But of all the sources of income the life of a farmer (agri cultura) is the best, pleasantest, most profitable and most befitting a gentleman.”

Cicero here represents the common, dominant opinion and thus supports Roman patriarchy, the system of the pax Romana. (209) The dichotomy and dualism between “spiritual” and “physical” on the one hand, and on the other hand (although connected with it) between worthwhile and less worthwhile work is striking in this passage from Cicero. Everything that demands either “practical” or “philosophical” wisdom (De Off 1.43, 153), and whatever brings a great deal of profit, he regards as worthy and honorable (honestus). Everything that demands work with the hands and does not bring much profit is considered despicable and filthy (sordidus).

Cicero’s reflection of the dominant opinion seems illustrative to me because it applies not to wholesale merchants, but to the making goods for sale and the business of dealing in those goods on a small scale. Work with purple was normally done in workshops (purpurariis officinis). (210) According to Cicero, this was dirty work, so we may suppose that the workers were looked down upon. This attitude had concrete effects, which can be illustrated by two examples: first, the inscription CIL 1.1413, according to which a certain workshop of this kind was outside the city of Rome, in the Via Salaria; second, Plutarch (211) writes that a person should always pursue only the best, rejoice over what is beautiful, and eagerly imitate the deeds of noble men in order to act just as they do. But then he speaks of tasks in which there is no desire to do likewise, rather the contrary: “Often we take pleasure in a thing, but we despise the one who made it. Thus we value aromatic salves and purple clothing, but the dyers and salve-makers remain for us common and low craftspersons [because they do work that is unworthy of a free person].” (212) Dirty work done in dye works and tanneries also had to be conducted outside the city because of the stink it produced. (213) According to Pliny (214) the production of purple cloth by the use of vegetable dyes is also a filthy (sordidum) job. On this basis, we can discern a deeper meaning in Acts 16:13: synagogue buildings were located in the vicinity of the people who belonged to them. (215) Moreover, a good deal of water was needed for working with purple. (216) Thus the information contained in exô tês pyles para potamon “outside the gate by the river” (Acts 16:13) may refer not merely to the common practice of locating synagogues near water, (217) but also to the fact that Lydia and her household conducted their business, which was socially despised as dirty work, outside the city and near the water that was so abundantly available in Philippi. (218)

THE WORK of SLAVES and FREED PERSONS. The production and processing of textiles was not only typical woman’s work; it was done primarily by slaves and freed persons. (219) According to CI 1.1413; 6.4016, 9847; 14.473, also, purpurarii were slaves or freed persons. (220) We may infer from CIL 1.1413 that the group of people freed at the same time continued under the authority of the patronus; apparently they are still working for him (221) It also appears from Digesta 38.1.45 that purpurarii, to the extent they could be said to be negotiatores vestiarii, Were also slaves who, after being freed, could only continue their work in the same place and in the same town without the consent of the patronus who freed them if their liberator suffered no economic or social injury (laesio) as a result. There was a long history of experience behind this law. It makes clear why so many small merchants had to take to the road, and why they could not continue to practice the trade they had learned as slaves in their homeland or hometown after they had been freed, (222) or how it happened that, even as freed persons, they had to continue performing the same services (to the extent that they continued in the same trade after being liberated) for the one who had released them. (223) Thus according to Digesta 38 and the experiences on which it was based, freed persons continued to be very closely tied to the one who had freed them, especially from an economic point of view. Had there been no such connections, or had they been rare, the legal texts extending to the end of the imperial period would not have treated them so consistently and in such detail, nor would they have needed to establish legal norms for such a relationship, as is the case in the texts in question. (224) We may also consider Luise Schottroff’s observation regarding Lydia’s work within this context: “In general, the manufacturing and the sale of dyed products were done by the same people. That means the dye-house was operated by an owner with several employees. These employees both worked in the dye-house and sold the wool.” (225) In line with this, we could suggest at this point that Lydia was an employee in one of the many dye works in Thyatira.

        Retail trade as well, especially in connection with the production and processing of textiles, was characteristically the work of freed persons.(226) But even though slaves and freed persons are inscriptionally attested as purpurarii,/span> this does not prove that Lydia was one of them. It is something that must still be considered. (227) In any case, her name indicates that she had been a slave at some point: “Lydia” is an ethnicon, (228) but originally etbnica were more appellatives than personal names. The were applied especially to slaves and hetaerae because they described special features of their origin, nationality, and thus particular racial or ethnic characteristics that served to single out their bearers. It was possible for an ethnicon to become a personal name, so that freed persons continued to bear the ethnicon as their own name. This is revealing in the case of Lydia.

   At this point some reflections on the relationship between the large, organized dyer guilds and the Roman authorities are in order. The bapheis, or some of them, may well have been faithful participants or collaborators in the pax Romana. This was the case for the majority at least from the second century c.e. onward, as CIG 3497 from Thyatira indicates: Titus Antonius Claudius Alpheus Arignotus, to whom the inscription is dedicated, was the commander of a number of military troops and, as such, also held many religious offices in the service of the state. We cannot draw a general conclusion from this that at an early period all dyer organizations were always subservient to the Imperium Romanum and followed its orders in all things, including in matters religious. This was, in fact, the norm even for organizations of ordinary people primarily in the collegia, but it was not the everyday rule of life. There were also a great many collegia illicita. In addition, we know that there were frequent imperial interventions in the licita, and that the illicita existed at least for that length of time and could frequently organize themselves in opposition to the pax Romana, as long as they were not discovered (229) Obedience to and compliance with all official regulations was not the rule, as, for example, another inscription from the same period as that of the bapheis in Thyatira shows. The people mentioned in this inscription (230) are a counter-example to those named in CIG 3497, because here it appears that the purple dyers in Hierapolis celebrated the feast of unleavened bread (en tê heortê tôn azymôn). They were therefore Jews who did not bow to at least one essential ideological component of the pax Romana, namely the religious.

Lydia’s House

Having considered the women’s place of assembly and Lydia’s profession, I now turn to the next piece of information in the text. Acts 16:15 uses the word oikos twice: Lydia’s “house” is baptized along with her, and she has a house of her own. The same word here refers to different things: first it applies to people who are connected with Lydia, and then to a place, namely her dwelling.

    Hellenistic Greek usage comprehended a number of meanings under the term oikos, so that the same word could, for example, describe a variety of locations and relationships. This word includes meanings ranging from “cave,” “cabin,” “tent,” “temple,” “dwelling,” and “house” to “household,” “wealth,” and “family property.” (231)

Was Lydia a Widow, or the Presider
over a Congregation?

It is difficult to determine exactly what is meant by the word “house” in this verse. H.-J. Klauck makes it a principle of interpretation to extract e meaning of oikos only from its individual occurrences within the context of the text itself, to the extent that the context offers clues to the word’s meaning. (232) He himself applies this rule to Acts 10:7 and here he finds that the word serves to denominate the members of a household named by means of this “house” formula, namely those of Cornelius and Lydia. (233) Acts 10:7 makes it clear that the house of Cornelius includes at least two household slaves and a pious soldier, all of whom are mentioned concretely in the Cornelius story. In the case of Lydia, it seems that Klauck cannot deduce anything from the context; nevertheless, he asserts that Lydia was “an independent businesswoman possibly a widow”; her house must “with some certainty [have included] servant women and slaves who [were] indispensable in her mercantile business.”

Like Klauck, Peter Stuhlmacher (234) takes as his rule that “[it can] only be determined from the context who belongs to the oikos (oikia)) and who does not,” because the oikos does not always represent the same group of people, but can refer to others. Unlike Klauck, however, Stuhlmacher draws the following conclusion from the application of his thesis: Whereas in Acts 10:1-8, 24-48 we can learn who the probable members of Cornelius’s household were (v. 7), this is impossible in the case of Lydia. From these two texts (Acts 10:1-8, 24-48; 16:5) we can derive only one common aspect, namely that neither of them contains any mention of children.

The discussion remains controversial. The examples just given show how difficult, if not impossible, it is to determine from the text who and what constituted Lydia’s house. However, New Testament scholarship has not been lacking in suggestions. Lydia is everything from a “wealthy and independent woman,” probably head of an extended family, (235) to a “widow in charge of an orderly household.” (236) C. F. Nösgen produces a reason why Lydia is to be thought of as a widow: “Nothing is said about a man; the text appears to speak of her [Lydia’s] oikos in v. 15 at the time of the baptism. Thus it appears that Lydia is a widow.” (237) This manner of speaking makes it clear that critics always expect or presuppose that the word oikos will refer to the situation that was the rule in that era as well: A man is head of the house. This thesis is then regularly applied to all texts in which oikos appears. From that point of view, and in any reading guided by this thesis, Lydia must necessarily be a widow. But it appears to me that Lydia’s house is a direct contradiction to these patriarchal ideas, whereby the man plays the role of husband, father and master, and in which wife, children, and slaves are part of the property of the house, that is, of the man (238) It is only in the context of this or a similar view of things that a statement like “[t]he house and family are the smallest natural groups in the total structure of the congregation” (239) can be considered to be true.

The dominant interpretation of this story reveals the difficulties that confront us in considering the matter of Lydia’s house. “This exegetical history does not try to hide its intentions: The first female Christians had to be from the upper middle class; they were not allowed to question the patriarchal family and the patriarchal organization of religion.” (240) I want to inquire whether Lydia’s house can be understood in some other way than in the exegesis that has dominated until now. In the following sections it will repeatedly appear that Lydia was a very important person, the head of a worshiping community.

“My House” — A Community of Work and Faith

Work with purple cloth required a considerable number of hands. No doubt Lydia, too, found a large number of people “indispensable” for carrying out her job. However, that does not necessarily mean that they were Lydia’s slaves. (241) Luise Schottroff has correctly shown that “[e]ven the lowly could, under certain circumstances, have a female slave,” (242) but she also concedes that we are not compelled to make that assumption in this case. The text gives no indication of this, nor of the existence of a patriarchal “family.” The inscriptional evidence discussed above (on pp. 105-109) shows that, normally, a group of women and men worked together in the production of purple cloth. They traveled together and sold the products they had made. In many cases, as illustrated especially by CIL. 1413; 6.4016, 9847-48; 14.473, these were a group of slaves or freed persons and their companions.

The women gathered in the synagogue, or some of them, may have been part of Lydia’s house. We may suspect this from the text, to the extent that it continues to describe the episode begun in v. 13. We may speculate that this was an exclusively “female household,” but that must remain open. Certainly such a thing is historically possible: At that time there were a number of women’s groups who, for example, “accepted the Jewish religion on their own accord and practiced it . . . without male leadership or any other form of legitimization.” (243) The existence of women’s houses is also attested for Naples by IG 14.760. (244) Therefore I think we are justified in supposing at this point that Lydia’s house was composed primarily of women.

In this connection, and on the basis of the many inscriptions mentioned above, we may also consider whether the other women who worked with Lydia in Philippi were foreigners, like Lydia herself. Purpurarii were mainly freed persons who settled in other cities to do their work, normally in small groups; in such groups, women were frequently in the majority. (245) This association and shared work was a form of organization practiced by common people who were attempting, together, to earn a subsistence income and at the same time to shape their social and religious lives in common. (246) Slaves and freed persons were almost entirely organized in “collegia” and “houses,” and it was not exceptional for one of them to be found at the head of the group, for example as its patronus or patrona. (247)

The common notion that Lydia’s house was very large and that her business had “brought her a substantial fortune,” that is, that she had enjoyed “economic success,” (248) is unpersuasive for two reasons: On the one hand, at that time there was no large-scale textile production. (249) On the other hand, it cannot be demonstrated that people who worked in the production and sale of purple goods ever played an important eco- nomic role in Philippi; there is only one purpuraria(ii) inscription at Philippi (CIL 3.664). (250) From what has been said thus far, we are more inclined to conclude that Lydia’s work was a subsistence occupation for herself and her house.

Another consideration is important at this point. In the New Testament period there was a strict dividing line between the upper and lower classes that was difficult to cross. We really cannot speak of a “middle class” in the present meaning of the term. (251) Craftspeople and small merchants were also part of the plebs urbana. Even when they had a “better” economic status (in comparison, say, to beggars), so that they even employed a few slaves or freed people, they were socially despised by the upper classes. In the eyes of the upper crust, their economic position was insignificant. (252) This contempt for ordinary working people on the part of the upper classes was based, as we hav seen, on their “dirty,” “undignified,” and “ignoble” professions, as seen from the point of view of the upper classes. In addition, this contempt was partly motivated by the fact that a considerable number of the people practicing those trades and professions came from the East. (253)

On the basis of these observations, we may offer the following considerations: It is possible that there were slaves in Lydia’s house, and it is probable that the income of her house made possible a better economic state of things than the lot of beggars. But still, as foreigners from the East who carried on a despised trade and also practiced the Jewish religion in that Roman colony, they belonged to the plebs urbana,the common people. As such, they were required at all times to work with their hands to earn their income and livelihood, and they were (as was customary with this kind of work) quite possibly not permanently resident in Philippi. They are not to be equated with the great merchants of the period. (254) These latter sold the goods produced on their estates by slaves, and thus concentrated the wealth in their own hands; among many other products, they also sold porphyra see Acts 18).

“Come to My House” — A House Church at Philippi

Acts 16:12-15, 40 is a detailed narrative of the steps in founding a Christian house church. It seems to me that the narrative, so rich in detail about the lives of women (or one aspect of their lives), is pointed toward such a foundation. To put it another way, it seems to have been important to the author, through this narrative, to give a more precise description of the leader or presider over this house. It became increasngly important to me to inquire more penetratingly into the question of the author’s precise emphases. In investigating the concrete meaning of the description of Lydia, I have also been confronted with other women who did the same or similar kinds of work and belonged to the same religious community. Lydia thus led me to other religiously committed working women. She opens a door to an important aspect of the history of women, a history that for the most part has been lost, hidden, or veiled, and continues to be obscured. Lydia was not an exceptional woman in her time, who then capped the story by adhering to Christianity because she was also looking for something “better” in her religious life.

The implications of the descriptive terms applied to Lydia and her environment give us access to her social world. But certain key words Luke uses also sketch the social and economic location of this community. Luke does not speak of just any people who went to the synagogue on the Sabbath and listened to the words of Paul’s proclamation, accepted baptism, and confessed the Jewish-Christian faith. These were women who had done hard and difficult work, women who, even before the arrival of Paul, had led a religious life in common. They were women for whom it was a matter of life and death to be together; who drew from their Jewish religion the strength for their daily lives. This religion had offered them “a possibility to express the identity of women a group, an identity that did not exist before” (255) because Judaism, like other eastern religions, “gave women a higher standing in comparison to the subordinating roles they had in state religion, and . . . allowed women to participate in leadership functions.” It was important to the author to hand on this traditional foundation story in such a way that it was still possible to discern the social location of this house community within the overall sociopolitical constellation.

Let me now turn to the question of the theological, missionary, and organizational elements (256) in a house church/community like this one.

Lydia’s Fidelity

The founding of this house church in Philippi takes place, according to the text, not primarily at or because of the baptism of the members, but only afterward. Acts 16:15 reads: “When she [Lydia] and her household were baptized, she urged us, saying, ‘If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.’ And she prevailed upon us.” The expressions we find here are peculiar; in context, I think, they make a powerful statement. They include, for example, parakalein, “to urge,” “to entreat,” “to demand”; krinein me pistên … einai “to judge [someone] faithful [etc.]”; and parabiazesthai, “to prevail upon,” “to constrain,” “to compel.”

The decision to enter Lydia’s house cannot be made by Lydia herself, in the final sense, but depends on the missionaries’ judgment. Lydia invites them, however, and offers them the means of decision, which in her case is itself a judgment. They are to decide about her fidelity to the Lord. That fidelity may be a precondition for baptism, or something constituted by it, since krineinis in the perfect tense and therefore describes something that has already occurred. We may suppose, then, that in baptizing Lydia the missionaries have already made a positive judgment about her “fidelity.” The founding of the house church is therefore only to be understood as a direct consequence of her baptism to the extent that the positive judgment about fidelity to the Lord, that is, Lydia’s faithfulness, belongs to and is a part of baptism. But if Lydia is true to the Jewish Jesus Christ preached by Paul and his companions, she is so within a society that owes fidelity to the Roman emperor, and her fidelity is a subversion of the dominant order (257) The fidelity of Lydia’s house to the Jewish Lord represents a simultaneous infidelity to the Roman emperor and his officials. The two are mutually exclusive. (258) The founding and existence of this house church rest on Lydia’s fidelity, which then appears also as a precondition or component of baptism. Essential to this fidelity are obedience, trust, and hope—or, to put it another way, a sweeping, hopeful trust that also dares obedience to a God who stands in relationship to human beings (in this case, Lydia and her household) and gives them a share in God’s salvation.

Rudolf Bultmann (259) attempts to distinguish points of unity and diversity between “faith” in the Old and New Testaments. Obedience, fidelity, trust, and hope are of central importance in both the Old Testament a the New, and are even closely connected. It remains problematic, however, that Bultmann exalts “Christian” faith over against “Jewish” faith. For example, in discussing Old Testament motifs in Judaism’s idea of faith, he writes with regard to these different “elements” of fidelity, obedience, trust, and hope, that “to the degree that it looks to the future generally, [this faith] is also belief in retribution in a more general sense.” (260) In attempting to distinguish between Judaism and the Old Testament, he writes: “As a result of the canonization of the tradition in Scripture, obedient faithfulness acquires the character of obedience to the Law. That is to say, it is no longer in the strict sense faithfulness to the experienced acts of God in history, with trust in His future acts therein.” (261) And in this instance prejudice plays a major role: the idea of inspiration of Scripture is said to limit “the work of the Spirit to the past” and restrict “God’s dealings to past history,” resulting in “a despising of the natural conditions of life.” (262) Jewish faith, “in so far as it hopes for God’s acts,” now remains oriented to miracles; trust is reduced to a “surrender to suffering,” and hope is directed to “supernatural eschatological events, and God’s judgment is . . . [thought of as] the eschatological forensic act.” (263) The whole polemic ends with the assertion that “Belief in retribution is also belief in merits,” (264) which locates the whole discussion within the context of divine grace and works.

After Bultmann has listed the various nuances of the later history of Old Testament and Jewish tradition within “general Christian usage,” he makes the following assertion: “To be distinguished from all the senses under 1. is the specifically Christian use of pistis …pistis is understood here as acceptance of the Christian kerygma. It is thus the saving faith which recognizes and appropriates God’s saving in Christ.” (265) It is also said here that the elements of “[o]bedience, trust, hope and faithfulness” are implied, but “the primary sense of pisteyein in specifically Christian usage is acceptance of the kerygma about Christ.” (266) When this kerygma is accepted, of course, confident hope is less prominent, because Christian belief “looks primarily to what God has done, not to what He will do.” (267) This, however, is all the more difficult to understand since the kerygma contains not only what God has done through Jesus, but also what God will continue to do, (268) and that implies ongoing, confident hope, because faith does not represent something finished and complete, but continually changes and draws new strength from the content of the kerygma. (269)

In my opinion, the “acceptance of the kerygma about Christ” does not exclude fidelity and is not dispensed from it. Through a public confession of faith, the believer enters into a relationship of fidelity with God, which includes a just relationship with other human beings. Infidelity toward God means at the same time mistreatment of and contempt for other people, fellow servants of God. This is clear from the parables that deal with service or care for others.

Matthew 24:45, for example, presents a faithful, good servant. (Luke 12:42 replaces pistos doulos with pistos oikonomos, but parallels it with doulos in v. 43). This servant has the duty to give his fellow servants their food (portion of grain) at the right time. The one whom the Lord sees doing this will be blessed. But a bad servant who thinks that the Lord is long in coming and begins to beat and mistreat his fellow servants, thus revealing his true character, will be punished. Because the believer has received something from God, (270) she or he pledges faith to God with the obligation to remain faithful to God and to stand in a just relationship to other human beings. In this relationship, for example, believers do not seek their own good, but what is useful for all. Both aspects, the pledge and act of fidelity toward God and a just relationship toward and among human beings, are combined in the unified “moments” of faith, including obedience to God’s order of things. If these ties are broken, the just relationship with other people is also ruptured, and vice versa. The fact that pistos, pistê includes a public confession of faith is clear, for example, from John 20:27-28. This confession, which is exclusive in the sense that it allows for and serves no other masters or mistresses, leads or can lead to persecution and martyrdom, as appears from Rev. 2:10-13. (271)

The first letter of Clement also knows and uses the word pistos to describe the union between faith and mutual human relationships. In the letter to the community at Corinth an apparent distinction is made among different “Christian community categories” (1 Clem. 48.5: “Let [one] be faithful, let [one] be capable of uttering ‘knowledge,’ let [one] be wise in judging arguments, let [one] be pure in conduct”) but this does not mean that one who believes cannot also be “pure in conduct.” In this connection, it is important to note the emphasis on the fact that all are obligated in Christ “to seek the common good in preference to [one’s] own” ( 1 Clem48.6: zêtein to koinôtheles pasin, kai mê to heautou)

Pistos with the dative appears in the New Testament, apart from Acts 16:15, only in Hebr. 3:2, where Jesus is described with this word as faithful to the one who made him. However, there is a similar use of the verb pisteyein with the dative in Acts 5:14 and 18:8.

The god-fearer Lydia, who accepted Jewish faith and thus also shared the Jewish messianic hope with other women in Philippi, believed in response to Paul’s words that her hope had been fulfilled. She confessed this Messiah and had herself and her own people baptized in his name, thus entering into a relationship of fidelity with him that excluded other masters. (272) It seems to me that it is precisely in light of and against the background of this relationship of fidelity in the context of the political situation in the Roman colony of Philippi that we should understand the information in Acts 16:15 that Lydia constrained the missionaries to come to her house and remain there.

“She Urged Us .. . and Prevailed upon Us.”
A Theological Anchor for a Praxis of Solidarity

The text concludes by noting that Lydia “prevailed upon” or “compelled” the missionaries (to stay at her house). This follows the theological judgment that she is faithful to the Lord. The expressions used in the text permit a glimpse of a turbulent situation behind the words. It appears to be transparent to the urgency of the moment and to latent conflicts. The expressions used give the impression that the situation in Philippi was not innocuous. Apparently time is pressing. A foreign working woman in a Roman colony exerts intense pressure on the missionaries to remain in her house.

The word parabiazesthai appears only one other time in the New Testament, in Luke 24:29. The disciples met the Risen One on the road to Emmaus, but did not recognize him. After they had described to this stranger the events connected with the crucifixion of Jesus, “they urged him strongly, saying, ‘Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’ So he went in to stay with them.”

These two passages should be studied more closely so that we may better understand this “urging” or “compulsion” and its possible conquences. As far as I am aware, the verb parabiazesthai is used outside the New Testament (273) primarily to describe events in which a life-threatening situation is averted, or can be avoided, or threatens to happen in the future. There can be compulsion:

1. To accept gifts or similar things:
2. After Genesis 32 has told how the relationship between Jacob and Esau was destroyed, and there is a danger of a struggle between the two groups associated with them, Gen.33:1-17 reports an encounter between the two men that turns out peacefully after all. Jacob had prepared for this meeting by taking with him gifts (“oxen, donkeys flocks, male and female slaves,” 32:5; cf. 33:8) to present to Esau in case he may find favor in his eyes. This did happen, but Esau refused to accept the gifts, saying: “I have enough, my brother; keep what you have for yourself” (33:9). Finally, Gen. 33:11 reports that Jacob successfully “urged” Esau ( patzah+b , LXX biazesthai|) to accept the gift bestowed by divine favor (berakha, LXX tas eulogias)).
3. After the prophet Elijah “ascended . . . into heaven” (2 Kgs. 2:11), his disciples went to Elisha, offering to seek Elijah on the mountains and in the valleys, where perhaps the spirit of the Lord had cast him (v. 16). Elisha refuses, and the prophet’s disciples feel compelled to urge him to give his consent or approval (v. 17:  patzah LXX parabiazesthai).
4. After Naaman the general had been healed of leprosy by Elisha, he desired to give him a gift with a blessing (berakha, LXX tas eulogias). Elisha refused. Naaman urged him (2 Kgs. 5:16: patzah + b, LXX parabiazesthai). Still, Elisha did not accept.

d.The Hebrew Bible also uses the verb ra-ah, which the LXX translates with biazesthai, in 2 Kgs. 5:23; 1 Sam. 28:23; 2 Sam. 13:25, 27, to mean “to urge someone to accept something.”

 

2. For the provision of accommodation and shelter in houses:
3. Gen. 19:1-14 describes the events that took place in Sodom before its destruction. Lot was sitting at the gateway pylê() of the city in the evening, and saw that two messengers or “angels” were entering the gate He immediately went to meet them and said: ” ‘Please, my lords, turn aside to your servant’s house and spend the night, and wash your feet. .. ‘ They said, ‘No; we will spend the night in the square.'(274) But he urged ( patzah + b, LXX katabiazesthai ) them strongly; so they turned aside to him and entered his house; and he made them a feast, and baked unleavened bread, and they ate.” The story has proceeded peacefully enough up to this point, but with v. 4 and the arrival of the “men of Sodom” begins a text of terror (275) such as we might have anticipated, especially for the women who are first mentioned at this point. The “men of Sodom” demand that Lot hand the (young) messengers over to them so that they may have sexual intercourse with them (vv. 5 and 8, with ** in 5). Lot refers to pederasty as (hifil), “acting wickedly.” He begs the “men of Sodom” not to act wickedly toward the two messengers, and offers them his two daughters as “substitutes”: “. . . do to them as you please; only do nothing to these men” (v. 8). At the end of the verse, Lot explains why he urged the messengers to lodge with him: namely, so that nothing evil should happen to them. They could have gone to the town square, but there they would have been exposed to abuse. After Lot offers to hand over his daughters, the men of the town utter threats against him and there is a brief, violent struggle between him and the assailants. In the struggle over the messengers, the “men of Sodom” also put pressure on Lot (NRSV: “they pressed hard against the man Lot,” v. 9). We can see here an important difference between the two instances of “urging” or “putting pressure on” someone: while Lot uses pressure to offer protection to the messengers, the “men of Sodom” use it as a means to snatch the messengers from that protection. Lot also gives an explanation for his urging the messengers to stay with him: “(for that reason [i.e., so that nothing evil should happen to them]) they have come under the shelter of my roof” (end of v. 8). But this means that Lot urged them because he was aware of the danger that only becomes obvious with the arrival of the “men of Sodom.”
4. In Judges 19:1-30 we find a case of pressure ( patzah + b, LXX biazesthai) put on a son-in-law by his father-in-law. The son-in-law is pursuing his concubine, who has fled to her father’s house, and the father-in-law pressures the son-in-law to spend the night there. He stays in the father-in-law’s house with his concubine for some nights, and finally starts for home. The important verses in this story, as regards pressure to the spend the night, are w. 11-26. Beginning at v. 15, the story is very similar to that in Genesis 19. It is dangerous—even for men (and especially strangers?)—to spend the night outdoors, in the “open square.” In v. 20 an old man who finds them there says: “. . . do not spend the night in the square” and takes them to his house. Then the men of the city” come and behave like the men of Sodom in Genesis 19. The old man’s offer (v. 24) is also similar to that of Lot, but with the major difference that in Judges 19 the offer is partly accepted: here the man seizes his concubine and thrusts her outside to the “men of the city,” who then rape her and go away (v. 25). The story continues with the violent consequences for the woman and others.

Here we note first of all that protecting men from pederasty and putting pressure on them in order to shield them, thus placing oneself in danger, by no means implies, in the instances cited, that a more just condition is thereby created: for the sake of protecting the men, women are (and must be) sacrificed. One sexual act cannot be replaced by another. The rape of women cannot be substituted for pederasty as if nothing had happened (Judg. 19:26-30). There can be no legitimate theological justification offered to explain such acts of violence and abuse. (276)

Second, we must also observe—and this is the crucial point as regards the investigation of the meaning of parabiazesthai in these passages—that as long as there are guests in the house, the hosts are responsible for their protection. While they are in the house, nothing must happen to them. The guests are under the protection and shelter of the host.

 

3.As a Response to Proconsular Power:

 

3. Mart. Pol. 3.2 speaks of Germanicus as someone to be imitated because of his constancy (hupomenê). In acting against the Christians, in this case against Germanicus, the proconsul hoped to persuade them to renounce Jesus Christ. To avoid this, Germanicus wished to die more swiftly, and so, when he was in the arena, he dragged the wild beasts toward himself. (277) As the crowd saw it, they shouted: “Away with the atheists! Let search be made for Polycarp!”

 

1. However, rather than Polycarp, another man appears in Martyrdom of Polycarp 4: one Quintus, a Phrygian, who “when he saw the wild beasts, [and what was happening in the arena] turned coward. He it was who had forced himself and some others to come forward of their own free will.” The proconsul persuaded this Quintus to swear the oath and offer incense, that is, to apostatize from the faith. The process seems to have been quite similar the proconsular procedures in the trials of Christians in Bithynia under the governorship of Pliny the Younger. (278)

The following reflections are in order: Quintus is described by scholars as an “apostate,” and as someone who may have been close to the later figure toof Montanus. (279) However, in my opinion, he and his actions need not be understood as though he was attempting to hasten his execution by submitting himself (and others) to judgment. It is possible that he did so out of fear, hoping to find favor and receive mercy without having to deny Jesus, for ultimately, according to the text, the proconsul had to go to great lengths to bring Quintus to his denial. It seems to me that this also reveals the hopeless situation of Christians in face of proconsular power. Those who voluntarily surrendered were judged in just the same way as those who were accused by others.

These two examples describe situations of persecution in which the victims of proconsular power were coerced or put under pressure. Without these trials and the punishment of the arena no one would have thought of urging himself or herself and others to “voluntary” surrender perhaps in the hope of pardon. The examples also show that in this context of martyrdom the issue was one of reactions to a powerful art 0f persuasion exercised by the Roman authorities.

The juxtaposition of the examples in Mart. Pol. 3.2 and 4, it seems to me, is not for the purpose of lending more luster to Germanicus in contrast to the “apostate” and “traitor” Quintus. There is no idea here of postulating and documenting a certain type of Gentile attitude by way of example. I believe that it is, instead, a portrayal of various facets of one and the same reality: the situation of persecution. The same set of circumstances can evoke different reactions. These two examples are meant to encourage people subjected to fear and despair, persecution and torture that are difficult to withstand. Christians should resist as long as possible. The advice at the end of Martyrdom of Polycarp 4, not to praise people who “voluntarily” surrender themselves, is thus not to be understood as “antinomian.” It is intended to teach others to learn from Germanicus, and to practice, in the heart of danger, persecution, and martyrdom, the virtue of hupomenê, “patient hope” or “the power of resistance.” (280) Christians should not let themselves be coerced by what are often tangible, concrete, hopeless situations to act in ways that help neither themselves nor others. They should resist as long as they have the strength. Moreover, it seems to me that those who submit under torture to things they do not otherwise say or practice are not “failures.”

The verb parabiazesthai also appears frequently outside the New Testament canon in its Latin equivalent, cogere. (281) Pliny (282) for example, writes to a friend who had “released” a freedman, or from whom the freedman had escaped, pleading with him to forget his anger and to receive his freedman back without torturing him. Pliny is severe toward the freedman, warning him to improve his behavior. To his friend, Pliny describes his intervention on behalf of the freedman as urgent pressure or coercion: “I’m afraid you will think I am using pressure, not persuasion (non rogare, sed cogere), if I add my prayers to his [i.e., those of the libertus].” It is true that this letter from Pliny the Younger is similar to Paul’s letter to Philemon, but there are important differences. For example, Paul presents himself as desmios Christou Iêsou, while Pliny is a governor in the Roman imperial service; in Philemon it is a case concerning a slave, Onesimus, that is at issue, while Sabinianus has to with an unnamed freedman. (283) Paul treats the slave Onesimus as his child (in this case, that means his manner is full of love), while Pliny is severe and threatening toward the freedman; although Paul knows that he can use his apostolic authority to order Philemon to do his duty (epitassein soi to anêkon), he restricts himself to a frequently repeated but urgent plea (parakalô). Pliny also makes a deliberate contrast between the meanings of rogare and cogere, knowing that in the future he will make other requests of his friend, while in the case of the freedman he asks only this one time. For that reason he emphasizes that in reality he is not merely making a request of his friend, but is pressuring him. He thereby indicates that, at this point, he can make use of his proconsular power and the force necessary to coerce someone in a legal matter. (284)

As another example, Cicero (285) at one point describes the oppressed situation of the population of Lampsacus, an important city in Mysia, under Cornelius Verres. In their customs and discipline, this was one of the mildest of peoples. But politically, the inhabitants were allies (socii) of the Romans. De facto, they were Roman slaves who were petitioning for self-government. The Romans’ injustices and crimes were so enormous that they forced the population to a desperate decision: perhap death would be preferable to such mistreatment. In this situation, Cicero warns those in authority not to coerce their allies and other foreign nations to seek refuge elsewhere or to withdraw (from the alliance?) to wherever they would flee in their desperation. (286) He further states that the people’s resentment against Verres could not be lessened by any means, since for his addressees also, no matter their status, the Roman laws would not serve them in opposing Verres, and consequently they could draw no hope from them. Cicero asserts: “You forced those unhappy and unfortunate beings, as if there were no hope for them in our laws and law-courts, to fall back upon force and armed violence.” (287) He thus offers us impressive examples of the way in which people oppressed by Roman officials were or could be ultimately coerced into seeking refuge, or a place of safety, where they could defend themselves against that power.

In summary, the texts show that the word parabiazesthai (cogere) is used primarily (a) for the acceptance of gifts accompanied by blessings, i.e., when someone is released from a life-threatening situation and therefore feels so obligated to give thanks that he or she brings pressure to bear to coerce the acceptance of the gift; (b) in cases when protective shelter is sought and offered, and (c) in describing the reactions of people who are subjected to proconsular trials or proconsular power. When the LXX translates the Hebrew patzah with parabiazesthai or katabiazesthai, this means that in the first century c.e. this word presents a precise description of the matter summarized here, and that it was generally understood by all.

On the basis of the textual evidence, the following conclusions can be drawn regarding this concept, which appears in the New Testament only in Luke 24:29 and Acts 16:15.

In the passages cited from Pliny and Cicero, coercion or pressure is to be seen as an act of proconsular or military power. It proceeds from people with official power within the Roman empire. In the New Testament passages, on the other hand, it comes from people who derived their power from faith, that is, from their fidelity to the crucified and risen Lord. Martyrdom of Polycarp 4 shows the negative consequences for Christians of the pressure put on the victims of judicial process by the proconsul. The pressure described by Luke has a completely different effect. While in the former instance, pressure or coercion is a means applied with the result of producing either martyrdom or apostasy from Christian faith (in order to avoid martyrdom), in Luke it serves for the protection of those concerned. In the houses of Lydia and the Emmaus disciples, those abiding there because of the pressure exerted upon them are to be provided with hospitality and protection. (288)

With the explanatory phrase “because it is almost evening,” Luke 24:29 hints at a danger similar to that in Judg. 19:1-26, but in my opinion Luke 24:29 should be read in the larger context of the scenes of crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. On the road to Emmaus, the Risen One encounters two disciples, but they do not recognize Jesus. They continue on the road together. When they reach the town, Jesus intends to go on; because he is living as a stranger in Jerusalem paroikeis Ierousalêm(, 24:18) he probably has no fixed residence in the vicinity. I find this detail, which is emphasized in the story, important: namely, that he is a stranger in the city; for this can hint that he, too, is from Nazareth and a friend and follower of the Crucified, especially since he knows a great deal about Christ and his crucifixion (24:25-27). Luise Schottroff indicates that “the Romans considered Jesus’ crucifixion a political act,” (289) and in such cases burial rites and mourning were forbidden. If people were caught carrying out such a ceremony, they would be punished. This must have been even more dangerous for Jesus’ followers than for members of the family, inasmuch as “showing any kind of behavior [e.g., burial or weeping] that would reveal one as a follower of Jesus could have been a dangerous act of solidarity that might have led to being crucified oneself.” (290) Precisely in this broader context of the crucifixion and “disappearance” of the crucified Jesus of Nazareth every stranger in the city would have appeared suspect to the Roman soldiers, who were watching everything and everyone, (291) and undoubtedly denouncing people as well. The guard was probably augmented during the night, which only enhanced the danger for those who wanted to move about freely. In order to protect the stranger they met on the road to Emmaus from these dangers, the disciples pressed him to come into their house and remain with them

.

In Lydia’s case, the pressure she applies is a sign of her solidarity. She certainly knows the conditions in the Roman colony of Philippi, and the attitude of the Roman authorities toward Jews (Acts 16:19-24). In this situation, her pressing invitation is an attempt to aid the missionaries by taking precautions for their protection. At the same time, she has to be ready to answer to the city authorities for giving them her protection. Should a conflict arise between her guests and the Roman authorities, her house would be drawn into a dangerous situation. (292) It is possible that in this case Lydia was unable to offer the protection provided by law, inasmuch as Paul (differently from the situation in Acts 17:5-9) finds it necessary to appeal to his own rights as a Roman citizen. (293) The action of Lydia and the others is to be understood, against the background here developed, as “hospitality,” (294) which included the provision of protection for her guests. To put it another way: hospitality is not abrogated when there is danger, but only at that moment proves itself to be genuine hospitality.

A hermeneutical and theological reflection is appropriate at this point. It was not only because Lydia was a Christian, and not only from the moment when she became a Christian, that she revealed her gratitude through hospitality; for Lydia is not the first in this field, nor is she the exception. As a woman who reveres God, she stands within a tradition in which non-Jewish women adhered to Judaism, practicing its way of life and also, when the situation required it, supporting and sheltering Jewish women and men in danger. Two examples appear to me to be revealing as regards this attitude, and their significance extends beyond the external characteristics of the “god-fearers”:

First, an inscription (295) found in the Jewish catacombs on the Via Nomentana in Rome upholds the memory of Julia Irene Arista, “who worshiped the power of God and kept fidelity to the sheltered seed, the Law, in a righteous way.” This god-fearing woman has kept the Law and the concept of fides, “fidelity,” appears as well. Her way of life is Jewish, and her fidelity to the Jewish God corresponds to her keeping of the Law, which is intended to create just relationships among human beings.

Second, Josephus (296) describes how the male inhabitants of Damascus behaved toward the Jewish population both before and after the defeat of the Romans. These men shut the Jews up in the gymnasium because they appeared suspicious. Moreover, the men of Damascus wanted to kill the Jews. It is only when this plan is described that the women of Damascus appear. The text continues: “yet did they [the men of Damascus] distrust their own wives, which were almost all of them addicted to the Jewish religion; on which account it was that their greatest concern was, how they might conceal these things from them.” Josephus goes on to say that then 10,500 unarmed Jews were immediately and swiftly slaughtered. This parenthetic remark about the women of Damascus is very revealing: The men kept their decision secret from the women, because they were afraid of them—and probably they were feared because they had adopted the Jewish religion. Still more, they were feared because, on account of their faith, they would have made some move in opposition to their men’s decision! Otherwise, there would be no sense in the men’s anxiety here. Moreover, the description of the wome of Damascus makes it clear that solidarity with the Jewish suspected and persecuted population was a sign of a kind of “hospitality.” It is a loss to history that Josephus reports nothing about the women’s reaction to the slaughter of the Jewish inhabitants by the men. Apparently it was a subject that did not interest him.

Lydia’s House: A “Contrast Society”
ln a Roman Colony

Lydia’s story, partly told in and reconstructed from Acts 16:13-15, is relevant for both Jews and Christians from a religious-historical point of view, but also with respect to social-political questions. A woman, Lydia, is the head of a house. Normally, the pater familias ruled over wife, children, and slaves, and the governing structure of the state—in this case, the Roman state—was anchored in this family structure. In Acts 16:13-15 we find nothing either about a pater familias or about the kind of rulership that is based on scales of subjection and that lives and survives through them because it forces other people into dependency and keeps them there, exploiting and oppressing them. (297)

Luke not only knows of this independent woman, Lydia, who provides shelter for other people in her house. He also tells of other women who house people in cases where there is no mention of a pater familias or any other man. For example, Luke 10:38 speaks of Martha, who received Jesus into her house. Luke uses here the same verb, hupodechesthai “to receive as a guest,” as in the description of Jesus’ reception by Zaccheus (Luke 19:6) and of Paul’s lodging with Jason (Acts 17:7) Luke makes no distinction among these instances, but some manuscripts do: in the case of Martha, and only there, they add an explanatory note that Martha received Jesus into her house.It is important to insist that women, independently of men, received other men into their houses. This is certainly unusual in a patriarchal society, (298) but according to Luke’s reporting it did occur. Thus in the Jesus movement, and in the beginnings of the Christian mission, there was no place for the patriarchal political governance exercised elsewhere; social compulsions to subordination were eliminated in the solidaristic praxis of the humble. (299) In these houses a place was created for women and men in which they could live by other standards, in mutual service, directing their energies to the end that no one need suffer want.

Lydia’s house became a center of Christian life in Philippi. In this house church, as in others, we may suppose that people lived according to the baptismal confession of Gal. 3:28. Thus they also were continually striving to overcome the patriarchal relationships that pervade all areas of life. Even if they did not exercise active, face-to-face confrontation with the existing order of power, they were nevertheless living a life contrary to Roman customs: a life resting not on dominance, but on koinonia, “community,” “participation,” a life in which despised and humbled people were transformed into a people in solidarity with one another, mutually encouraging one another in the faith that gives strength for endurance. (300) Because, for example, there is no longer a pater familias, there is no more patriarchal and hierarchical subordination, and all can be equal sisters and brothers. This really does lead to “a relativizing of domestic power relationships and thus of the ‘house as a social unit.” (301) To the extent that the fidelity of the early Christian house church belongs to the Jewish Lord Jesus Christ, the crucified and risen one, fidelity is withdrawn from the Lord Emperor, and his claim to lordship over all spheres of life is denied. In the last analysis, then, this is a practice of resistance. (302) This house church in Philippi can also serve as a model for a “contrast society” (303) on a small scale. Such an understanding fits within the framework of the conflicts between Paul and Silas and the imperial authorities in this Roman colony. Acts frames those events within the story of Lydia. In a society in which only dominance-minded men appear in leading political and economic roles, as is lear in Acts 16:16-39, this framing story of Lydia surrounding the events is subversive. Among its subversive features is the “fact that [in it] sexes and classes are treated as equals.” (304)

Challenges to a Feminist Interpretation
of Lydia. Summary and Outlook

The story of Lydia in Acts 16:13-15 has, throughout centuries of interpretation, received cursory treatment from theologians writing biblical-exegetical commentaries. In the process, as this chapter has shown, particular ideas about the social, economic, and religious allegiances of Lydia were passed on from commentator to commentator. When Lydia was introduced to congregations or groups outside the commentaries, it was always against this background: that is, Lydia’s image was mediated by this history of interpretation. Questions about her work, and thus about the conditions of her life, were simply not asked. I have become better acquainted with Lydia and her work through my examination of extra-biblical literary and inscriptional sources. The conditions of her life, in her own milieu, are no longer so foreign to me. Historical reconstruction has also made her community praxis and her theology clearer to me: they have taken on sharper contours. A social-historical, feminist liberation theological analysis of biblical texts can aid us to approach nearer to the theological statements to be found in a particular context, and to give precision to them.

For centuries, Lydia and her story were defined by men’s historical writing, from Luke to the latest commentators. Recently, this picture of research has begun to change. Women are taking up the task of uncovering the figures and stories of women in the Bible, and Lydia has received renewed attention. I will only review at this point the extent to which feminist theologians have concerned themselves with Lydia, and question whether and to what degree they have distanced themselves from the dominant scholarship.

Luise Schottroff (305) points out that in the dominant interpretation throughout history Lydia has been declared to be a well-to-do woman, Partly in order to affirm that the first Christian women were members of the upper middle class: “The fact that women work, and under very hard conditions at that, is rendered invisible [in the dominant exegesis]. Also, no-one takes time to ask what a woman does who sells purple fabrics.” (306) The demand for a social-historical analysis has arisen out of this state of scholarship. Thus Bernadette Brooten (307) and Luise Schottroff (308) formulate a task for feminist liberation theological exegesis: in quiring especially and minutely about women’s work and reconstruct it to the extent possible, with the aid of new sources and technique drawn from other scholarly fields. By means of this research and analysis, Schottroff, in her essay on Lydia and other studies, reveals the latent, unspoken tendencies of the dominant exegesis. She knows the power and force of this tradition of interpretation; it is made clear once again in the fact that even critical feminist theologians succumb to the dominant interpretation, especially as regards social-historical questions.

Valerie A. Abrahamsen (309) has devoted her efforts to a study of the development of and different trends in the history of Christian and non-Christian women in Philippi. Her whole project and her conclusions are good, and are instructive for future research, but it seems to me that they lack precision in some details. It is probably for that reason that Lydia appears in her work in a very unfavorable light. To begin with, she assumes that Acts 16 as a whole (the description of Paul’s missionary work in Philippi) is probably fictional. Thus, as so often occurs in the dominant exegesis, whose theses she adopts on this point, (310) she makes a direct comparison between the “genuine” Paul (or accounts of Paul) in the Pauline letters and the “ungenuine” or “less genuine” Paul of Acts. One result of this is that, for example, she contrasts Evodia and Syntyche (Phil. 4:2) with Lydia. For her—even though the story is supposed to be “fictional”—Lydia is a “domestic,” married woman (311) who was obedient to Paul, while Evodia and Syntyche, “two rival missionaries,” (312) made a lot of trouble for Paul because, it seems, both of them had more influence in Philippi than Paul. In contrast, Luke presents the “fictional” Lydia as “a devout follower of Paul, not a schismatic,” who presents no danger, but rather is a “less threatening ‘type’ of Christian woman.”

Ruth Albrecht and Franziska Müller-Rosenau (313) adopt a critical stance toward the dominant tradition of interpretation. They point out, for example, the difficulty that exegetes have, in approaching the story of Lydia, in not immediately “seeking to define women through men; this same difficulty emerges in the interpretation of the place of assembly and Lydia’s station in life (as a widow, etc.). But in the matter of social and economic questions, these authors remain captive to the conclusions of the same dominant exegesis they have criticized, and do not challenge them.

Susanne Heine devotes several pages in her book to Lydia and the god-fearers. (314) She writes about Lydia in her chapter on “Paul the Scapegoat” in which she defends Paul against feminist criticism. On the whole, her description of Lydia and the god-fearers does not differ from that in the dominant interpretations. Heine correctly proceeds on the remise that “… women in particular . . . felt particularly attracted by the Christian missionaries.” She wishes to demonstrate the reasons for this “from the formation of the community in Philippi.” On the one hand, this author, inspired by the example of the women of Damascus, asserts that, as far as the god-fearers are concerned, it was especially “pagan women” who “felt attracted by the Jewish faith and particularly by the ethical implications of the law,” because “the immense brutality of a political system” called for “an alternative.” On the other hand she continues:

“The ‘case’ of Lydia is symptomatic, for she was not the only one among the godfearers who took this course. The opening up of the Christian mission to Gentiles resulted in the surrender of many Jewish elements which were impossible for the godfearers: circumcision, the observance of ritual laws and the strict observance of the precepts of the law expounded casuistically by the Jewish scribes. Therefore women like Lydia must have found Christian faith even better and more in accord with their hopes.” (315)

 

Here it is obvious that Heine is dealing uncritically with the conclusions of scholarship about the effects and the evaluation of the “Christian” mission among the god-fearers; she offers no challenge to them. But we must point out the following: This author asserts that Christian faith must have seemed better to women. However, the issue with regard to the missionary movement in the first century was not the evaluation of religion according to a certain yardstick, but the acknowledgment of the fulfillment of Jewish messianic hopes. The author offers no critical comment either on the commentators’ shared ideas about the proseuchê or on their routine estimation of Lydia’s socioeconomic status. According her, women were gathered together for prayer, and the well-to-do Lydia was among them. Heine’s understanding of the text is, in large measure, a repetition of the dominant consensus.

1 have inquired about Lydia’s work and her conditions of life because, in my opinion, they are critical significance for her religious life. Social-historical examination of a text has theological relevance to the extent that it seeks to illuminate what theological statement or praxis can be found in it, for whom, and in what historical situation Therefore it is of fundamental importance to approach the situations in which faith experiences have been and are being lived, and to pay closer attention to the people who have acquired and are acquiring particular theological insights. (316) In this way, we can get closer to the people themselves. Thus work with biblical texts can also support and encourage women and men today in their efforts toward more just, non-patriarchal relationships. The story of Lydia can and does give us strength, for it, too, tells us of a woman whose power came to expression in her relationship to God and to other women and men. This implies the construction of conditions that, within the house church also, are founded not on hierarchical relationships, but on the leadership of equals. (317)

Chapter 3
Lydia and her house
(16:13-15, 40)

Lydia is a woman with a central position in the Acts of the Apostles. She, together with Sapphira and the prophetic slave, is one of the few women in Luke’s work who has a chance to speak. She does speak. And what she says is theologically significant. Lydia, like Priscilla, is described in terms of her profession. She is the only female god-fearer who is named in Acts. Her key position and particular importance for Acts are expressed in many ways, including the fact that she, with the other women gathered in the synagogue building, is the first person with whom Paul comes in contact on the soil of Macedonia, that is, in Europe. She is the first person in this region who gathers a house church in her own house. And yet she does not receive much honor. Her story, like that of Tabitha, is commonly treated in European exegesis as a “prologue” to the “real” conversion story, that of the Philippian jailer. Let me illustrate this tendency in the interpretations with a single example:

Gottfried Schille gives it as his opinion that Luke has transferred the Lydia story to another geographical location. There was a Lydia tradition but originally it did not belong to Philippi; it was placed there by Luke. The reason why Lydia’s story is not appropriate to Philippi, according to Schille, is that it is scarcely imaginable that there could be two foundation stories for the church community in a single city.” (1) What that really means is that only the jailer’s story could be the “real” story about Philippi. Schille thus reduces the Lydia story to a “prologue” for the genuine Philippi narrative.(2) But it seems to me that in doing so the author fails to ask the most important questions, and therefore has no answers for them: Why would Luke have chosen precisely this story as a prologue? Why were the broader religious, economic, and political conflicts, together with the arrest of the Christian envoys and the story of the jailer, embedded in the story of Lydia?

The Women Who Were Gathered

On the sabbath day we went outside the gate by the river; where we supposed there was a [synagogue]; and we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there. (Acts 16:13)

Women have gathered. This is a unique statement in Acts, and in fact in the whole of the New Testament. It is true that there is a similar situation in the case of Tabitha, but only here is there a description of the gathering. It is truly astonishing that, within the framework not only of androcentric language, but of patriarchal relationships, (3) we learn something about the existence of a group of women. Here women have not been made invisible! And still more: part of the history of a group of women has been transmitted to us here. My goal in this chapter is to understand this story better.

Gathering

 

First let me inquire what is meant by the women’s being gathered. Most exegetes overlook the importance of the fact that a group of women is gathered here, and turn their attention too quickly to Paul’s activity, with the result that the women slip out of the picture. Apparently the interpreters are interested only in the missionary works of the apostles (in this case, Paul). But we should emphatically object to that kind of view of this story: Without the presence of these and similar groups, Paul could scarcely have missionized in the way he is reported to have done. On the other hand, we can say that without an account of the work of Paul and other missionaries, we would have no access to these women, and these fragments of the history of women would have been lost.

 

In order to clarify the importance of the women’s being gathered, let us first analyze the verb sunerchesthai “gather” in connection with the other concepts of lalein, “speak,” and proseuchê, “synagogue.” (4) “We will include the remarks of the commentators as well as material from outside the New Testament, including inscriptions, whenever possible. We can begin with the fact that it is unusual for Luke to give an account that focuses exclusively on women, or a group of women. The text gives us some important clues for the reconstruction of this group of women at Philippi – for example, it does not say that the women had met, but that they had gathered or assembled. What is the meaning of that statement?

 

To my knowledge there has been no extensive scholarly study of the verb sunerchesthai (5) Therefore we should introduce as many New Testament passages as possible to gain an overall picture of its semantic field. A look at these passages shows that the verb is used, fundamentally, in four different contexts of meaning:

 

First the verb can describe a judicial hearing before a tribunal or before the Sanhedrin (6) (see Acts 22:30; 25:17; Mark 14:53; see also Acts 28 17, 20). This always refers to a gathering of high Roman or Jewish authorities to hear something from someone or to make a decision about something. This use of the verb is not relevant to our context.

 

Second, the verb appears when the subject is a particular religious experience and faith-praxis: On the one hand, people gather together because of good news given to them (Luke 4:18, the poor and the sick who want to hear of Jesus’ words and deeds; Luke 5:15; Mark 3:20 in context; see also Acts 5:16 in context). They gather because they know that something is happening in a particular place in which they want to have a part and from which they expect something (healing, for example). Or; on the other hand, people are gathered in a particular place to hear and learn what God has to say to them (Acts 2:6, 11; 10:27; see 10:24, 33; John 18:20). According to these passages, people have gathered with a particular religious purpose. John 18:20 even makes it clear that the synagogue and the Temple are the places where “all the Jews come together.” Jesus here speaks of a time in the past, but utters this statement in the present tense, probably because Jews were still gathering there.

 

Third, the verb appears only in Luke in connection with discipleship and shared work, which can also be expressed in traveling together, Luke uses the verb to describe the shared work of mission: for example, in Acts 10:45 (see 10:23b). Those who, according to this text, share in Peter’s missionary work also belong, for example, to the community in Joppa (9:36-43). This use of the verb is still clearer in Acts 15:38 (see and 15.37 and 13:13): According to 13:5-13 John Mark worked with Paul and Barnabas for some time and, for reasons not given, separated from them and returned to Jerusalem. He appears at Antioch again in 15:37-9 where Judas and Silas have also arrived, having been chosen by the community at Jerusalem and sent out with Paul and Barnabas. According to this passage, Paul refuses this time to travel and work with John Mark. We also learn of a “sharp disagreement” between Paul and Barnabas, so that they also separate: Barnabas takes John Mark with him and Paul chooses Silas. Judas, Barnabas, and John Mark disappear from the author’s view from this point on, but probably they continue their missionary activity, like many others before them (see 8:1-4; 11:19).

 

Luke makes a unique use of this verb in one other context having to do with discipleship and shared work: this is in regard to the people (women and men) who were with Jesus from the beginning (Luke 23:55; Acts 1:6, 21). Here it stands for intensively shared work with Jesus and as his disciples. It should be interpreted in the context of Luke 23:49; Mark 15:40; and Matt. 27:55-56.

 

Fourth, Paul uses this verb in 1 Cor. 11:17-34 and 14:23-26 as a “technical term for the coming together of the Christian congregation, especially to administer the Lord’s Supper.”(7)

 

On the basis of these passages we may observe that when a gathering of people is described with sunerchesthai there is always the idea of a deliberate, purposeful gathering that also implies community (so especially Luke 23:55; Acts 1:6, 21; 15:38; Mark 3:20 palin; John 18:20; see also 1 Cor. 11:17-34; 14:23-32).(8) Our women have therefore not met or gathered by accident. Because the gathering is always connected with a purpose, it remains to inquire why the women have gathered here.

 

In the context of a gathering made up exclusively of women, we learn that Paul and Silas, after seating themselves, talk to, or rather with the women. Because this circumstance seems to me to be important for understanding the women’s being gathered together, I want to ask at this point whether the combination of words at the end of v. 13 is coincidental, or whether it can give us some definite information. I am referring to the expression kathizantes elaloumen tais sunelthousais gunaixin “we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there.”

 

The verb kathizein,”sit down,” and similar words describe various situations in the New Testament: first, sitting on the throne of God or in the reign of God, but also sitting on the Roman judgment seat (Matt- 19:28; 20:21, 23; 25:31; Mark 16:19; John 19:13; Acts 2:30; 12:21; 25:6, 17); second, sitting down to work or to make decisions (Matt, 13:48; Luke 14:28, 31; 16:6); third, remaining in a given place (living somewhere for a period of time, in connection with religious aspects or purposes: Luke 24:49; Acts 2:2; 18:11). For our context the fourth use of the verb is important, especially since it is especially connected with teaching and preaching: Jesus sat down on the mountain and the mathêtai “disciples” came to him, and he taught (didaskein) them (Matt 5:1-2); Jesus sat down in the house at Capernaum, called the Twelve together, and taught them (Mark 9:33-34; cf. v. 38: didaskale); after Jesus had sat down, he taught the okloi from the fishing boat (Luke 5:3); an Ethiopian eunuch was sitting in his chariot and reading from the prophet Isaiah when he invited Philip to climb up and sit with him. Philip then explained the pericope by preaching Christ to the eunuch (Acts 8:27-33), whereupon the eunuch asked Philip to baptize him. Kathizein also appears in the context of teaching and preaching in the Temple and in the synagogue. John 8:2 describes a repeated (palin) scene in the Temple, that is, Jesus sat down and taught (see also v. 20); in Matt. 23:2 Jesus uses a highly symbolic expression when he says that the scribes and Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat, that is, that they “have the office and the traditional authority to hand on Moses’ teaching”; (9) Luke 4:16-21 portrays the kerygmatic “premiere performance” of Jesus in his home town, for it says that as was his custom he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath and “stood up to read.” After the reading he sat down (again?), and everyone waited for him to interpret what he had read. Acts also uses this word kathizein in the context of religious-liturgical praxis: for example, Acts 13:14-15 uses language similar to that in Luke 4:16-21 to describe Paul and Barnabas entering the synagogue at Antioch on the Sabbath. They sat down there, and after the reading of the law and the prophets Paul, having first been invited to do so, interpreted what had been read (vv. 16-41).

 

To understand the expression at the end of Acts 16:13 better, I want to look now at the other verb, lalein, “speak,” primarily as used in Acts and especially where it refers to preaching:

1. Let me begin at 10:44 (see also the second description of the same events in 11:14-17). Here it is a question of Peter’s preaching of Christ in Caesarea.

 

2. Lalein appears at least once in Acts as an expression for “distorted speech” that attempts to turn the disciples from the way that they have chosen.” (20-30)This is said to be the talk of “teachers of error and false prophets .”(10) who will appear in the community. Similarly, some of his people say of Stephen that he spoke against the law, against God against the holy city (6:1-2; see vv. 8-15). Stephen’s preaching, which pointed to the fulfillment of Scripture (see 7:1-52) appeared to the eyes of the Sanhedrin as blasphemy against God.

 

 

3. In Corinth, after a conflict, Paul decides to separate himself from “the Jews,” and says to them: “From now on I will go to the Gentiles” (18:6). But then he goes into the house of a god-fearer, and even the head of the synagogue becomes a believer and is baptized in the name of Jesus, together with all his household. This also tells us that Luke had no intention of describing a conflict with the Jews as a whole, for in w. 9-10 Paul is urged by a vision of the Lord not to give up his preaching, “for there are many in this city who are my people,” that is, the people of God in that city are very numerous. To the demand that he go on speaking and not be silent v. 11 adds that Paul stayed (sat down: kathezein) a year and a half in Corinth and taught the word of God among the people. It is also said of Apollos, a Jew, that he “spoke . . . and taught accurately the things concerning Jesus” (18:25), because he “had been instructed in the Way of the Lord.” He began to speak boldly in the synagogue.

 

4.There are many passages in which lalein refers specifically to preaching in the synagogue or in the Temple. Acts 4:1 refers to a preceding speech by Peter in 3:11-26: (11) “While [they] were speaking to the people, the priests, the captain of the temple, and the Sadducees came to them, much annoyed because they were teaching the people. . . .” The same is confirmed by 5:20: after a conflict with the high priest and the Sadducees that ended in the apostles’ imprisonment, an angel of the Lord says to them: “Go, stand in the temple and tell the people the whole message about this life.” The apostles are supposed to continue speaking in the Temple (5:21; see also 4:17-21, 31). The apostles’ customary activity in Jerusalem was then continued in the diaspora. Obvious examples are 13:5, 14-42; 14:1-7; 17:1-4, 10-15, and many more. According to Acts, Paul was not the first Jewish-Christian missionary in Antioch (see 11:19-22!). The sequence described in 13:14-42 should probably be presumed for 11:19-22 as well: 13:14-42 tells how Paul and “those with him” went to the synagogue on the Sabbath and sat down. The head of the synagogue invited Paul, after the reading of the law and the prophets, to speak a word of exhortation to the people. After he had given a long “sermon,” he was urged (v. 42) to repeat his preaching on the following Sabbath. Here the word used is again lalein. However, on the next Sabbath Paul was contradicted, and Paul and Barnabas confirmed that the word of God had to be proclaimed first to the Jews (see v. 46). Then began a persecution, and Paul and Barnabas were driven out of Antioch (v. 50). They traveled next to Iconium where they “also” (as in 13:14) went into the synagogue and preached (lalein). Something similar is said of Apollos in 18:24-25.

 

We may conclude from this semantic discussion that whenever it is a question of religious praxis or matters related to faith, and whenever the location is a cultic place, the use of the verbs kathezein                  and lalein indicates that what happens here is teaching, interpretation and preaching of the Scriptures.

 

In Acts 16:13 there is only a brief notice of the “arrival” of the missionaries in Philippi on the Sabbath. We get no details at this point about the precise events, but this kind of reporting is nothing unusual in Acts. We find it also, for example, in 13:5 (Salamis); 14:1 (Iconium); 17:10 (Beroea); 17:17 (Athens); 18:4 (Corinth); and 18:19 (Ephesus). In those passages (except for 13:5), as in Acts 16:14-15, we learn only of the reaction to the missionaries’ appearance in the synagogue. There is a slightly longer description in 17:1-3 (Thessalonica), where Paul’s customary synagogue visits are described: Paul goes to the synagogue on three Sabbaths and speaks to the Jews there, interpreting the Scripture and explaining that it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead. This, he tells them, is the Messiah, Jesus, whom he, Paul, is proclaiming to them (17:3). Luke is the only New Testament author to use the expression kata to eiôthos, “as was his custom;” it appears in Luke 4:16 and Acts 17:2, describing in the first instance Jesus’ custom and in the second Paul’s, of going to the synagogue on the Sabbath and participating in the reading and interpreting of Scripture.

 

Most exegetes do not emphasize the combination of words at the end of v. 13, but some have written about the word lalein for example in acknowledging a connection with v. 14 and asserting that the verb refers to preaching. (12) Alfons Weiser (13) reads it as “Paul’s preaching,” which the woman (sic) listened to and accepted because God opened her heart. Weiser concludes from this that in this expression Luke is indicating “why only Lydia and not the other women mentioned came to believe in the Lord'” H. W. Beyer (14) supposes that there were at least a few women at the Jewish place of prayer with whom the missionaries spoke about “religious matters,” and Theodor Zahn (15) thinks that “the Missionaries, after sitting down on the wood or stone bench in the place, spoke to them [the women]” and that after the entrance of “four strange, partly Jewish-looking [sic] men” there must have been many questions and answers, so that “the evangelical preaching, by Paul alone” grew out of all that. A. Wikenhauser (16) says that Paul proclaimed “his message” at the women’s place of prayer although it appears that there was no “proper Jewish service of worship” at the place.

The consequence of all this is that these commentators see Paul’s initial appearance in Philippi as analogous to his activity in the other places where he preached or proclaimed the gospel. W. Schmithals (17) even asserts that we can discern “Paul’s authentic missionary method” in Acts 16:13: it consisted in his seeking out a synagogue and initiating his preaching before Jews, god-fearers and proselytes. In this context, Theodor Zahn (18) even reads kathisantes elaloumen as synonymous with dialalein and dialegesthai, and on that basis equates the events in Philippi with those in Acts 17:2, 17; 18:4, 19; 19:8-9. But in spite of these initiatives, we should note that most commentators find difficulty in interpreting Acts 16:13-15. If they do not ignore altogether the fact that Paul also preached in that place, their interpretations are usually dependent on assumptions that are inadequate to the text, or discriminatory in nature. These assumptions are expressed, for example, in assertions like that mentioned above, that there were at least a few women in Philippi with whom the missionaries spoke about “religious matters.” The reason for such statements will become clear in connection with the analysis of the word proseuchê, below; almost all the restrictive commentaries on this passage are connected with the interpretation of this concept.

In summary: It appears from the word analysis above that the missionaries spent their Sabbath in the same way as in the other places where, according to their custom, they participated in Jewish worship. We are talking about a liturgical action that presumed the existence of a Jewish community in the place: The missionaries only participate, and if they had not been there the liturgical action would have been carried out by someone else in that place, as usual. The difficulty in giving an “unproblematic” reading of this account, as we can observe in the history of its interpretation, lies, in my opinion, in the fact that the text speaks here of a gathering of women.

The Place of Assembly

The difficulty the commentators have in coming to terms with a gathering made up exclusively of women rests principally on the fact that these women are not assembled just anywhere, but in the proseuchê at Philippi. Everything that is said about the missionaries in v. 13b happens in that place. Here in Acts 16:13 we not only find a description of a gathering made up exclusively of women, but also the word proseuchê is used only here to describe the place where the action occurs (see also v 16) This fact has largely determined the exegesis of this text.

An Overview of Interpretations

To begin with, the exegetical discussion seeks to clarify the meaning of proseuchê This is not a new topic. Here I will present the statements of a number of exegetes in order to clarify how they deal with the question. The fundamental problem is whether the word stands for “synagogue,” or for “place of prayer” or some other similar idea. We may summarize a number of observations based on the commentaries under four basic headings.

First, in some commentaries, the verdict remains open: H. J. Holtzmann (19) comes to an “either-or” position. He writes: “Either pros[euchê] is only a common expression for sunagôgê.. or we should suppose that in cities where the Jews had no synagogue, they provided themselves with a place of prayer.” The author then reaches the remarkable conclusion that “here, as in Catholic churches” there are “always at least a few pious females.” In drawing this conclusion, it appears, the author can scarcely bring himself to suppose that these “females” were the principal figures in Jewish Sabbath praxis in Philippi. G. Stählin (20) proceeds on the assumption that Paul looked for a synagogue in Philippi, as usual. But we cannot know whether the proseuchê he found was a “proper” synagogue. H. Conzelmann (21) knows that proseuchê can mean “synagogue.” He finds it especially “strange” that “only women were there. Is the author thinking of a place for prayer out in the open?” This is a central question in all the interpretations.

Second, proseuchê is understood to mean place of prayer, or something similar. C. E Nösgen (22) asserts that Paul and his companions expected to find a “place of prayer” outside the gate, near the river, because the Jewish community in Philippi was not very large. There would always be Jews and proselytes in such a proseuchê but in this case the latter must be in the majority, “since there is special mention of the women.” Unfortunately, the author does not pursue this argument. It is striking, however, that he presumes that men are also present. ‘ J. Felten,(23) is aware that proseuchê is often used as a synonym for sunagôgê but say thiat that is not the case here because the Jews in Philippi had no synagogue. For him, a proseuchê is not even a building, “but simply some kind of walled or unwalled placee in the open air, on the river bank  where people prayed.” Unfortunately we find no further citations here, either. Similarly, H. W. Beyer, (24) A. Wikenhauser, (25) W. de Boor, (26) and G. Schneider (27) recognize that Acts 16:13-15 reflects Paul’s usual procedure during his missionary journeys, but they argue that there was no synagogue in Philippi, and therefore the missionaries went to the river to find the Jewish place of prayer. For W. Schmithals, too there was no synagogue in Philippi, because “apparently there were no Jewish inhabitants (cf. v. 20 [?!])” there. (28) The women were god-fearers who frequented the place of prayer.

Third, proseuchê is sometimes interpreted as a synagogue. E. Preuschen, (29) G. Hoennicke, (30) and O. Bauernfeind (31) assert that both custom and context require that we read the word here as synonymous with “synagogue.” J. Schmid (32) also regards the proseuchê in Philippi, without reservation, as a synagogue. This can be concluded from his statement: “In New Testament times the synagogue was a solidly established and very common institution, both in Palestine and in the diaspora (cf. Acts 9:20; 13:5, 14; 14:1; 15:21; 16:13[!]; 17:1, 10, 17; 18:4, 19, 26).” Schmid thus equates the proseuchêin Philippi with all the other synagogues that appear in Acts. J. Munck (33) remarks very briefly that the proseuchê was “probably synonymous with a synagogue.” R. Pesch (34) writes that the missionaries had inquired about the Jewish proseuchê in the days before the Sabbath. He then continues smoothly: “There was no synagogue in the city; therefore the missionaries go . . . outside the city gate . . . where they . . . supposed there would be a ‘proseuche’ = synagogue.” It is also clear from the sentences that follow that he regards the proseuchê as a synagogue; I will return to this point later.

If we inquire about the reasons for these varying suppositions and assertions on the part of the commentators, we learn very little. Those who interpret the proseuchê as a synagogue point to other witnesses and literature. (35) Most of those who deny it give a variety of general reasons. For example, it is said that there were no Jews in Philippi, or that the Jewish community must have been very small. (36) A. Wikenhauser (37) thinks that we should conclude from 13:14-42; 14:1; 17:2, 10, 17; 18:4, 8; 19:8-9 that the word elaloumen, which is used in 16:13, does not describe Paul’s speeches in synagogues. Later he asserts that Paul begins “his preaching, as everywhere, in the Jewish community,” (38) but this could not have been in the synagogue because there simply was none m the city of Philippi. Wikenhauser admits that proseuchê means “synagogue [building],” but excludes that possibility for 16:13 because everywhere else in Acts Luke describes the place of assembly for worship as a sunagôgê. Therefore proseuchê “probably” means “nothing more than a (perhaps simple, but enclosed) place of prayer.”

Fourth, there are a few interpretations that differ from all the preceding. H H. Wendt (39) also prefers to read proseuchê to mean a place of prayer and explains: Such places were sometimes buildings, sometimes open spaces, and were found “in those cities . . . where there were or could be no synagogues, but they served the purpose of a synagogue.” Unfortunately he does not say why and in which cities there could not be synagogues. At the same time, he does not deny that what happens in a synagogue would also take place in a proseuchê! T. Zahn does not deny this, either. (40) He also understands a proseuchê to be a house of prayer or place of prayer. He gives more particular attention to the question and argues that this was not an “ordinary” synagogue, because first, Luke and the other gospel writers used the word sunagôgê to describe “the buildings for worship in which the Jewish communities were accustomed to assemble to read Scripture, preach, and pray”; second, Luke always introduces “the individual synagogues that Jesus and the apostles visited . . . with the definite article, as the synagogue of the place in question.” This presumes that there could have been only one synagogue in any given place. Consequently Zahn asks: “Why does he [Luke] express, through the use of proseuchê without the article, . . . the idea that there was such a thing in Philippi at all, if he wanted us to understand that this was the synagogue of the Jewish community in Philippi?” Finally, this must be connected with the fact “that only in this one passage does he indicate, regarding a Jewish place of prayer, where it was located within the city or its surrounding district.” For Zahn, the purpose of Luke’s expression is precisely to make a concrete statement that the Jewish place of prayer “was outside, on the river” Here, according to this exegete, everything was unusual, including the gathering! Nothing at all is said about the head of the synagogue as presider over the worship service, nor is there anything about his assistants. There are places to sit, “but one almost has the impression” that it was only a few pious Jewish women and proselyte women who were accustomed to gather there.” Finally, everything is said to point to the act that Philippi had only “small, undeveloped vestiges of the Sabbath service.” Nevertheless, it was also customary, and attested, that Jews were often accustomed to hold their worship services” outside the cities, by the water. The difficulty of understanding proseuchê in this context is especially evident in the case of Zahn. On the one hand, it does not describe a space in which the Jewish communities celebrated their worship service (including Scripture reading, interpretation, and prayer) because Luke always uses the word sunagôgê for such a place. On the other hand, it was customary for Jewish communities to hold services of worship in such places as well. In order to solve the problem, Zahn supposes that Philippi must have had a very underdeveloped incomplete worship service, because no “proper” presiding officer was present. At the same time, Zahn does not deny that this was a Sabbath worship service.

We find a very different argument and result in the commentary by Jürgen Roloff. (41) He begins by remarking that “in this Roman city the connection with the synagogue, customary elsewhere,” encountered “unusual difficulties” because the missionaries had to seek the Jewish house of God on their own, and when they went toward the river it was only because it was common for synagogues to be established in such districts! However, the commentator immediately poses the following question and provides an answer: “But was what they found there really a synagogue? It is true that the Greek word proseuche (= place of prayer) can also describe a synagogue; but when only women are mentioned as being there, this scarcely can indicate a regular synagogue worship service, for which at least ten men would have to be present.” (42) Consequently, the proseuchê must here be understood as a “place of prayer under the open sky.” G. Schille (43) also emphasizes the necessary presence or number of men at the synagogue service, but differently from Roloff. According to Schille, Luke himself has altered the tradition. Everything points to the fact that 16:13, like 13:14, is about Paul’s customary practice. Therefore we should suppose that the proseuchê is a synagogue: “Luke is thinking of a synagogue in which the teacher sits (cf. Luke 4:20).” But the fact that only women were gathered there could then “be interpreted only as an exceptional situation, since synagogue worship could only be conducted when at least twenty men were present.” Here, in contrast to Roloff’s opinion, the necessary number of men has been doubled, although Schille does not say where he got thi number. There is a fundamental difference between Roloff’s and Schille’s accounts: Schille can think of the assembly as an exceptional case, while Roloff does not even consider the possibility. We will return later to th problem of the necessary number of ten men as a precondition for constituting a synagogue worship service.

The principal reasons why the commentators think that the proseuchê in Philippi cannot be interpreted as a synagogue may be summarized as follows: first, there were no Jews, or very few, in Philippi; second, the word proseuchê is used in place of the usual sunagôgê; third, the only sons present are women. The first argument is very improbable on purely logical grounds, for if there had been no Jews or Jewish community in Philippi, why would the missionaries have been looking for a proseuchê and how could they have found one? That method of procedure would by no means be applicable to Paul and his missionary methods. The second and third reasons must be examined more closely.

First we should note that many commentators attempt to answer the question of the purpose of such a proseuchê by use of the arguments mentioned above. That is, they ask why the women were there; consequently, the place and the women’s gathering are made mutually interpretive. For most exegetes (44) (if they ask the question at all), the answer is simple: having decided that this passage is not about a synagogue in Philippi, they conclude that the proseuchê was the place where people gathered for prayer. They also think that women went there to pray. This is connected with their answer to the question of why the proseuchê was outside the city. Here, again, the answer is too facile: Because Jews were accustomed to making ritual ablutions before praying, the place of prayer (whether in the open air or not) was outside the city, at the riverside. According to this interpretation, the participation of the women in the religious activities of the Sabbath presents no problem They perform the ritual washing (of the hands), and then they pray. In this connection, the thought process of the exegetes is important to note: these are the only two activities that could have taken place, because there were no men present. To put it another way: because there were no men in the group, they did not have a “proper Jewish service of worship.” (45) The necessary conclusion these exegetes draw from their assumption that there was no “proper” synagogue in Philippi is that nothing happened here but ritual washing and prayers: No proper” synagogue, no “proper” service of worship.

A second group of exegetes differs from those just named, but still does not consider the proseuchê in Philippi a synagogue: this group is represented by H. H. Wendt and Theodor Zahn. (46) Although they do not see the proseuchê in Philippi as a synagogue, they conclude that it served the purpose of a synagogue. Wendt does not explain this statement more fully, but Zahn believes that we are dealing with “small, developed beginnings of a sabbath service.” However; neither author inquires how this service, however “undeveloped,” may have looked, since “only” women were gathered. Zahn tries to avoid this difficult situation by saying that “one almost gets the impression that only a few pious Jewish and proselyte women were accustomed to gather there ” By this he means to say that some men were, in fact, present; therefore the sabbath worship service could be celebrated, however “unusual” the circumstances!

Finally, we should also inquire whether exegetes who think that the proseuchê in Philippi was a synagogue building draw any conclusions from that assertion, and if so, which. To begin with, no one except Rudolf Pesch addresses this question. Therefore the suggestion that we should interpret the exclusive presence of women, as mentioned in the text, is something fully new, and comes from Pesch alone. (47) First of all this author quite correctly challenges the conclusion of many exegetes that the proseuchê in Philippi could not have been a synagogue because the text does not mention any men with whom the missionaries could have spoken. Then he introduces his own proposition: “one may also suppose that Paul and his companions sat down with the women who had gathered outside the synagogue, and that their interest, especially that of Lydia prevented them from going in to the synagogue service.” This attempt at a solution again makes it clear (and nowhere else does R. Pesch display as much imagination as he does here) what great difficulties exegetes have in dealing with this little bit of information in Acts 16:13b. Pesch had previously (on p. 104) pointed to the similarity between the formulation of this verse and that of Acts 13:14, but at the same time he minimizes the force of this observation by asserting that in Philippi the missionaries sat down with the women outside the synagogue. He offers no reasoning or citations to support this statement. The presupposition, and at the same time the consequence of such an assertion is, in my opinion, that “inside,” in the building itself, everything was going on in “normal” fashion: there we would find the men about whose presence our text is silent! The missionaries would have had no opportunity to preach to them because the women gathered “outside” prevented them from doing so. (48) If we wanted to carry this train of thought further, we could suppose that these women must have exercised a great deal of force to cause Paul to stop in response to their interest instead of following his traditional course on the Sabbath. But to speak seriously, Pesch’s proposal has the following consequences: Apparently our women were not taking part in the Jewish worship service, because they were not in the synagogue at all. The question of what had brought them there and gathered them together remains open since Pesch does not say explicitly what interest on the part of the women, “especially Lydia,” would have been able to restrain the missionaries from entering the synagogue. It would seem that Paul must have found some interest in the matter as well.

A survey of interpretations clarifies how difficult it is to take a clear position on the question of what the proseuchê in Philippi is meant to be. As we have already noted, no New Testament texts can be adduced for direct comparison, because there is no parallel to the use of this term as a description of a place: it occurs only in Acts 16:13, 16. However, the word analyses above have already indicated some points of contact in combination with such terms as sunerchesthai kathisein, and lalein. We should not lose sight of those contexts.

Literary and Inscriptional Material

In the interest of further clarification of the meaning of the women’s gathering and of the word proseuchê, we will take an interdisciplinary approach by examining extra-biblical sources (49) that, like Acts 16:13, use the word proseuchê As with the biblical texts, we must here refer to secondary literature. I will list some literary and inscriptional sources.

Literary Evidence

In particular, we want to examine the sources to see in what context they use the word proseuchê and what they mean by it. “They had synagogues, and . . . they were in the habit of visiting them, and most especially on the sacred sabbath days.” (50) Philo of Alexandria writes, in the Legatio ad Gajum 155-58, about the Jewish population of Rome whom Pompey had brought to Italy as prisoners of war and who had later been freed. Trastevere was the foreigners’ district, on the opposite bank of the Tiber, and most of them had settled there. (51) In this context, Philo speaks of the proseuchai of the Jewish people in Rome, where Jews gathered especially on the Sabbath, and where they were accustomed to interpret their laws. It is not surprising that Philo should speak of a number of synagogues in Rome; this is confirmed by other sources. For example, the grave inscription of a Gentile fruit seller speaks of a proseucha near the Republican Wall in Rome. (52)

Josephus also uses the word proseuchê to describe the synagogue building in reporting some episodes of Jewish intramural conflicts in Tiberias and Taricheae during the Jewish War: “On the next day . . .they all came into the Proseucha; it was a large edifice, and capable of receiving a great number of people.” (53) In the same context he writes at a few days later, when he returned from Taricheae to Tiberias, the multiude had already gathered in the synagogue building, (54) and in Vita293 he reports that, after arming himself because of the military situation, he also went into the synagogue: êlthon eis tên proseuchên There he was able to participate in the Jewish service of worship. (55) The community present, that is, the people in the proseuchê, are described as synodos “assembly” or “congregation.” (56) In this synagogue building they observe the nomia (“laws” or “duties”) (57) and the euchas (“prayers”); (58) that is, they celebrate the synagogue worship service According to Vita 277-303, however secular political problems were also discussed in the same place. (59) Josephus uses similar expressions in Antiquities 14.213-16 to describe the legal and religious relationship between the Jewish community in Delos and the Roman authorities at Paros. That community, which is here equated with a thiasos, a “collegium” or “society,” is not to be forbidden to use its ancestral customs in worship, that is, to gather as prescribed by its laws. Similarly, the decree of Halicarnassus (on the southwest coast of Asia Minor) confirms what the Romans permitted the Jews to do, for in Antiquities 14.257-58 Josephus writes: “. . . we aim to follow the people of the Romans, . . . [therefore] we have decreed, that as many men and women of the Jews as are willing so to do, may celebrate their Sabbaths, and perform their holy offices, according to the Jewish laws; and may make their proseuchae at the seaside, according to the customs of their forefathers.” (60) The decree of Sardis is similar (61) Jewish men, women, and children shall be permitted to gather on the appointed days, and to do everything their laws prescribe. For that purpose, a place of their own choosing, fit for the purpose, is to be set aside for them, as a building and habitation (topon … eis oikodomian kai megiston oikêsin). In this context, and in parallel to Vita 277 (eis tên proseuchê megiston oikêma), oikêsis can very well mean a synagogue building or community hall. (62)

The references in Josephus are few, but they show that the word proseuchê was known to him, also, in reference to a synagogue. The concept is much more familiar to Philo of Alexandria, appearing especially in his descriptions of the persecutions of the Jewish men and women in Alexandria. Destruction and plundering of their holy places— their proseuchai, of which there were many—were daily events, according to Legatio ad Gajum 132-38 and In Flaccum 6-7, 14, 41-54. We learn from Philo that the proseuchai were buildings in which the Jews interpreted their laws and preserved their customs, where they worshiped God and resisted to the death the setting up of images of Caesar, which for them constituted blasphemy. In summary, we may say that in the passages cited both Philo and Josephus use the word proseuchê to describe Jewish holy places, that is, synagogue buildings.

.

Inscriptional Material

Numerous inscriptions and papyri show that the word proseuchê was common in the Greek-speaking diaspora at least from the third century BCE until the second century CE. (63) The oldest attestations of the existence of synagogue buildings, and also of the use of the word proseuchê in the diaspora, come from Egypt: from Shedia near Alexandria (OGIS 726) and from Arsinoë (Crocodilopolis) in Fayum (CPJ 3.1532A). The inscriptions list personal names and give a very precise dating for the existence of these synagogues: during the reign of King Ptolemy III Euergetes and Queen Berenice (246-221 b.c.e.). These inscriptions thus indicate the time when the buildings were erected, and constitute the oldest witnesses known to us for the existence of proseuchê in the diaspora. However, the use of the word proseuchê to describe a synagogue building is not restricted to that time period, as can be illustrated in the case of Arsinoë, where two further witnesses from different centuries also speak of the Jewish synagogue or synagogues there. Neither of these is a Jewish witness; both are legal documents of the city, from which we may conclude that the word proseuchê was known not only to the Jews themselves, but also among their non-Jewish fellow citizens, and that it was used as a precise designation for a Jewish synagogue building.

The Arsinoë papyri include one from the end of the second century B.C.E., describing the land surveys in Arsinoë-Crocodilopolis (CP] 1.134). The precise location of the proseuchê is indicated. It was bordered on the north by a “holy or sacral garden” (hiera paradeisos) belonging to a woman named Hermione; on the south the proseuchê bordered a fallow piece of ground” chersos) owned by Demetrius of Thrace. To the west was the “town boundary” (peristasis poleus i.e., Pomerium), and to the east was the “canal or ditch of Argaitis” (‘Argaitidos diôrux). The following may be emphasized here: (a) This proseuchê lay on the fringe of the town, near the water; (b) there would appear to have been other sanctuaries there as well, inasmuch as the papyrus mentions two hiera paradeisoi, one belonging to the synagogue itself, the other to Hermione; and (c) this is most probably the same proseuchê that is mentioned in CPJ 3″1532A. (64) The other Arsinoë papyrus (CPJ 2.432) is from the year 113 c.e. It documents the source of water and the bills for certain public installations during the reign of the emperor Trajan. Among the various buildings listed are the following: the “baths of Severianus, the “street well,” the “Macedonians’ well,” and “the brewery of the Sarapeion. ” Alongside these “public” institutions, two Jewish synagogues are also mentioned: a proseuchê Thêbaiôn and an eucheion (65)

What is especially striking in this papyrus is that the water bills for the synagogues are higher than any of the others, even including the bath-house. Each synagogue had to pay 128 drachmas per month, while the costs for the bath were only 72 drachmas and 18 oboli per month. Another difference is found in that, whereas all the other institutions had to pay a fixed, daily tax, so that the monthly bill constituted a sum of the individual days on which water was used, the synagogues had to pay a fixed monthly rate. A. Fuks (66) offers a series of suggestions to explain this situation. It could be that these different measures were not related to the exact quantity of water used, but that the tax was based on a special classification of customers, so that (as in the case of the synagogues) the same sum of 36 drachmas and 9 oboli had to be paid monthly for all the wells and fountains alike. But, according to Fuks, we would have to conclude from this that the various customers were assigned a rate corresponding to their average water usage, and in that case the amount of water used would still be the measure by which they were billed. If that were so, the synagogues would be the most extensive users of water in the whole metropolis of Arsinoe. The question necessarily arises: why and for what purpose did they use so much water? Fuks’s answer is based on certain insights derived from Jewish sources:

“The Jews of the period to which our papyrus [CP] 2.432] belongs were particular about the observance of the religious prescriptions concerning ceremonial purification and personal hygiene. There were connected with synagogues special arrangements for washing. . . . Also, sometimes there were boarding-houses connected with synagogues. . . . One has therefore to reckon with additional water for daily purposes.” (67)

But Fuks does not consider this a sufficient reason for the synagogue water bills to be so much higher. He therefore adopts the suggestion of A. C. Johnson, (68) which probably approximates the ordinary situation during the Roman era (113 C.E.). He proceeds on the assumption that “the ghetto [i.e., the Jewish section of the city] may have got its daily supply at the temple fountain.” That would mean that the water bills would cover not only the water used by the two synagogues for religious purposes, but also the daily usage of the whole Jewish population in Arsinoë. From that we could conclude that the synagogues were, a least in part, centers of daily Jewish life and communal organization.

This example from Arsinoë-Crocodilopolis thus illustrates the fact the word proseuchêwas used without exception, in both Jewish and non-Jewish sources extending over a period of several centuries, as designation for the synagogue building, the Jewish place of prayer in the Greek-speaking diaspora. That building was the common gathering place for a minority group attempting to maintain its identity in the diaspora. Such a religious and cultural center may in fact have included “a school, a hostel, a dining hall, even a kitchen,” (69) as we have already indicated in our discussion of CPJ 2.432.

Additional examples may be introduced to expand our understanding of Acts 16:13-16 within the context of its contemporary situation. These examples clearly show that the people who have left us indications about the conditions of their lives in these different sources had no difficulty in speaking of a proseuchê as something they had built or developed themselves, either in whole or in part. There are, for example, the numerous inscriptions concerning the building of a proseuchê, many of which are dedicatory, indicating who built the proseuchê (or caused it to be built), where, and at what period. Most of the known inscriptions are from Egypt in the second and first centuries B.C.E. Here are some examples: (70)

1. In Schedia, near Alexandria, Jews under King Ptolemy III Euergetes and Queen Berenice (246-221 b.c.e.) built their synagogue and dedicated it to the royal couple. (71)
2. In the same period, the Jewish community at Arsinoë-Crocodilopolis built a synagogue and dedicated it to the same royal pair (CPJ 3.1532A). The text is almost identical with that of the inscription just cited, and everything indicates that the two of them are the oldest evidence known to us of the existence of synagogue buildings in the diaspora.
3. A century later we find an inscription indicating that between the Years 143 and 117 B.C.E. an (entry) gate and synagogue were built in Xenephris in lower Egypt. (72)
4. At the same time, Jews in Nitriai dedicated their synagogue and its furnishings to the royal couple, Ptolemy and Cleopatra, whom they called “benefactors.” (73)
5. Also, from the second century B.C.E is a badly damaged inscription found in Hadra, near Alexandria. (74)
6. CPJ 3.1443 represents an inscription from the synagogue at Athribis . The period of its origin is uncertain, but the names of King Ptolemy and Queen Cleopatra, to whom it is dedicated, point to the second or first centuries b.c.e. (75)
7. Another inscription from Athribis, from about the same time indicates that a family has added a colonnaded vestibule to the synagogue building. (76)

8.There is documentation for a synagogue building in the southwest quarter of the city of Alexandria (Gabbary) in about 37-36 b.c.e. (77)

9. Finally, there is an inscription of unknown origin from the first or second century c.e., according to which a family has built the synagogue. (78)

On the basis of such inscriptional evidence for the use of proseuchê and the archaeological and historical commentary on it by the editors of various collections of inscriptions, there can be no doubt that in every case it refers to a building in which the Jewish communities of the diaspora gathered. Most of the evidence is from Egypt, and it is also the oldest. But there are inscriptions from elsewhere: (a) Two from Pantikapaion on the Black Sea, from the year 81 c.e., document the manumission of slaves. They indicate that the proseuchê was also the place where slaves were set free. (79) (b) In addition, we have inscriptional evidence from Delos from the first century b.c.e.: dedicatory inscriptions were found within a humble group of houses, including CII 726 (‘Agathoklês kai Lusimachos epi proseuchê) and another inscription discovered in the years 1979-80 (Oi en Dêlô Israêlitai . ..kataskeuasanta kai anathenta ek tôn idiôn epi proseuchê tou theou. .), (80) which apparently refer to a synagogue building, (c) Josephus reports on events in the synagogues at Tiberias and Taricheae (Vita 277-82). (d) The popular decree of Halicarnassus permitted the Jewish congregation to build a synagogue near the water (Josephus, Ant. 14.257-58). (e) Philo reports on the Jewish prisoners of war transported from Egypt to Rome and later released, and describes their synagogue buildings in Rome (Leg. Gaj. 155-57). (f) CII 1.531 is a tomb inscription referring to the synagogue at the Republican Wall in Rome.

Preliminary Conclusions and Food for Thought

The evidence for the use of proseuchê found in Egypt and other places within the Greek-speaking diaspora permits us to draw the following conclusion: The proseuchê in Philippi that is mentioned in Acts 16: 13-16 can be no different from all the other proseuchai mentioned in the literary and inscriptional evidence. They are all synagogue buildings in which the Jewish community of a particular town or city gathers, primarily on the Sabbath, to worship God. This has been asserted by other scholars in similar fashion. (81) Speculations about why Luke uses the word proseuchê which was common in his time and place, only in Acts 16-13.in place of sunagôgê which he uses everywhere else, bring us no farther. It is not true to say that the location of the proseuchê outside of the city of Philippi was something exceptional: the description of the place in Acts 16:13, exô tês pyles para potamon, “outside the gate by the river;” has almost identical parallels in other sources. (82)

Thus the statement of Acts 16:13 is not a single, isolated instance in its contemporary situation, nor is it by any means contradictory to that situation. The best answer to the speculative proposals mentioned above seems to be that Luke’s report rests on a source, and that it transmits the content of the source virtually without alteration. (83) According to this source, then, women were gathered on the Sabbath in the synagogue at Philippi, and the missionaries, after seating themselves, interpreted Scripture for them. But, although this statement of the text corresponds to the circumstances of the period, many exegetes have difficulty with it. They assert that if only women were gathered, this could not have been a synagogue in which divine worship was celebrated.

This is a conclusion drawn from rabbinic sources. Thus, for example, Jürgen Roloff (84) rests his argument on Billerbeck, (85) who cites, for example, Megilla 23b: “The introduction to the shema is not repeated, nor does one pass before the ark, nor do [the priests] lift their hands, nor is the Torah read [publicly], nor the Haftarah read from the prophet, . . . save in the presence of ten.” Billerbeck, in interpreting his sources, always speaks of “ten persons,” who make up the “minyan.” The sources say nothing about “ten men.” Thus the eda, the “congregation,” presumes a minimum of “ten [persons].” (86) But Roloff interprets this passage, and Billerbeck’s comment, to refer expressly to “ten men,” without whom no regular service of worship could have been held. (87) In referring to rabbinic sources we should be aware that they do not present a unified picture. B. J. Brooten has presented sources that give nowledge of the presence and leadership of women in the Jewish synagogue, showing that rabbinic sources also contain information about women’s active participation in religious life. (88) For example, there are two basic statements about the participation of women in the reading of the Torah in the Sabbath service: (89) according to Megilla 23a and 24a , minors and women may be counted among the  manin shabah (the seven who read the Torah aloud in worship). That is the first part of statement in Megilla 23a. But the second part restricts the first and contradicts it, because it says that women should not read (publicly) from the Torah. Such contradictions should not be elided, because they can shed light on the history of the wealth of conflict and debate within the Jewish community over the process by which religious norms of behavior were to be discussed and finally laid down as rules. In any case, women could study Torah, and demonstrably they had leadership functions in the synagogue. (90) And as far as the “minyan” is concerned B. J. Brooten bases her statement on a whole variety of sources and interpretations when she says that “the rabbinic inclusion of women in the quorum of the seven attests to a more ancient tradition, later supressed, according to which women were allowed to read from the Torah in public.” (91)

In light of the reflections presented above, there is no compelling reason to restrict the participation of the group of women in Philippi in the Sabbath activities to ritual washings and (probably silent) prayers. On the contrary: Acts 16:13-15 can serve precisely as an “attestation of women’s presence at Jewish worship services.” (92) Our text, in fact, says nothing against women’s participation in the Sabbath service; on the contrary: the word study (sunerchesthai + kathezein + lalein) at the beginning of this chapter has shown that the whole story permits us to discern in it the Sabbath practices of the synagogue. (93) The process of patriarchalization, in Christianity as in Judaism, certainly ran a multi- faceted and tension-filled course to the point at which certain rules and norms were fixed (and even beyond that point). And the contradictions within the Pauline literature (94) regarding the participation of women in worship and community life are matched by similar contradictions in the rabbinic sources.

Reconstructing the Story of Lydia

Acts 16:13-15 should be regarded as a source for investigation of women’s participation in Jewish (Sabbath) religious praxis and the history of women in general. Therefore I want to give attention to this woman who belonged to that group of women, and who herself is more precisely delineated. The details of the story concern her social, economic, and religious circumstances. According to Acts 16:14-15:

“A certain woman named Lydia, a worshiper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth [porfirópolis]. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Pau1′. When she and Her household were baptized, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.” And she prevailed upon us.”

I intend to examine some of the significant attributes of Lydia, as delivered to us by Luke, in order to reconstruct at least part of her story. They depict Lydia in her religious, social, and economic surroundings, and they can give us clear evidence about her origins. In this reconstruction I will make use of historical sources and refer to the results of historical and New Testament scholarship.

“A Worshiper of God”

According to Acts 16:14, Lydia was a worshiper of God (sebomenê ton theon). (95) This designation connects Lydia with the synagogue context and with th Sabbath service. It directs our attention more broadly to a particular religious group attached to Judaism: the “god-fearers.”

According to a general consensus in New Testament research, the god-fearers were Gentiles attracted to Judaism, but unconverted, not having been circumcised. As associates of or sympathizers with Judaism, they participated in synagogue worship, kept the Noachic laws, and practiced religious monotheism. (96) This consensus rests primarily on the classic work of K. G. Kuhn, whose summary definition of the group follows:

“More numerous [than the proselytes] was the group of Gentiles who attended synagogue worship, believed in Jewish monotheism, and kept some part of the ceremonial law, but who did not take the step of full conversion to Judaism by circumcision. As distinct from proselytes these were called sebomenoi or phoboumenoi ton theon.” (97)

It appears from this that the god-fearers were more numerous than the Proselytes because they did not have to be circumcised—and yet they continued to be regarded by both the Jews and the proselytes as unclean because they were uncircumcised), and therefore as less than their equals, as inferior. (98)

It is striking that scholars’ definition of proselytes, sebomenoi, and phoboumenoi applies only to males, since circumcision is regarded as the princial sign of full or less than full adherence to Judaism. These scholars mention women only in passing, but they also assert that there were more women proselytes than men. Women are mentioned in connection with circumcision, as is clear from the following statement which has been foundational for New Testament research:

“. . . Josephus’s information about proselytes in the Jewish-Hellenistic diaspora [reflects] the fact [!], attested elsewhere, . . . that the Jewish mission enjoyed its principal success among women. This can be explained in part, at least, by the circumstance that for them conversion to Judaism was easier than for men, because neither circumcision nor sacrifice was required of them. “(99)

And yet it appears that women were more numerous than men not only among the proselytes (of whom circumcision was required), but also among the “god-fearers” (of whom no circumcision was required)! (100) This fact alone must cast doubt on the category of circumcision as decisive for full adherence to Judaism. As a category of explanation, it is sexist and unjust toward women. And yet “god-fearing” women in the New Testament are continually described in scholarly writing according to the model of “god-fearing” men, especially Cornelius. The same is true of Lydia: exegetes attempt to explain the description of Lydia as sebomene ton theon by equating it with the description of Cornelius in Acts 10:2 as eusebês kai; phoboymenos ton theon. We may mention R. Pesch as an example: in treating Acts 16:14 (101) he asserts: “She [Lydia] was one of the ‘god-fearers’ (cf. at 10:2) in Philippi.” The reference to Acts 10:2 is unequivocal. In commenting on this passage, he writes: “The Roman officer Cornelius . . . [belongs] to the group of ‘god-fearers,’ who were attached to the synagogue, but had not completed their conversion to Judaism through circumcision.” (102)

But besides circumcision there were other important characteristics that designated a proselyte. They must be taken seriously if we are to understand the role of women in this religious movement. The marks of a male proselyte were circumcision, baptism (= ceremonial bath), and the presentation of a sacrifice in the Temple. (103) It is said that women were not required to bring a sacrifice. (104) From this it is concluded that for female proselytes baptism was “the only act of initiation,” (105) and it alone characterized them as initiates. The “god-fearers” are said to have been exempted from fulfilling this condition. However they, together with the proselytes, must certainly have participated at least in the “instruction,” (106) which then brought them into a common association. When Josephus writes “. . . let no one wonder that there was so much wealth in our temple, since all the Jews throughout the habitable earth, and those that worshiped God, nay, even those of Asia and Europe, sent their contributions to it, and this from very ancient times,” (107) the sebomenoi ton theon (108) are certainly included in the presentation of sacrificial offerings. (109) What ultimately separated male proselytes from male “god-fearers” was baptism and circumcision: among women, the only difference was baptism. (110)

The substantive formed from the verb sebesthai (ton theon) is used in the New Testament only by Luke, and only in the book of Acts. That book speaks of the sebomenoi only after the description of the first missionary journey of Paul and his companions, and it is not used again after the end of the second missionary journey. More precisely, the word appears for the first time at 13:43 and for the last time at 18:7; moreover, it is mainly used in connection with the synagogue: 13:43; 16:14; 17:4, 17. After Paul (and Barnabas), at the request of the leaders of the synagogue, had explained the law and the prophets in the synagogue at Pisidian Antioch, many Jewish men and women and sebomenôn proselytôn followed them (13:43). It is difficult to decide whether these are “god-fearers” (specifically addressed in w. 16 and 26 as phoboymenoi ton theon), or proselytes, emphatically described as “pious.” (111) In Thessalonica, also (17:1-4), Paul went to the synagogue on the Sabbath, as was his custom, and on three successive Sabbaths explained the Scripture to those present, applying his interpretation to the fulfillment of Scripture in Jesus’ messiahship. Some of those present believed what Paul said and became his and Silas’s followers. In Athens as well (17:16-17), Paul goes to the synagogue and speaks to and with the Jews and devotees he finds there, although there is no report of success or lack thereof with respect to the Jews and others present, because the text immediately (from v. 17b onward) shifts attention to the events on the Areopagus.

The scenes in 13:50 and 18:7, which do not take place within the synagogue itself, are nevertheless associated with the events in the synagogue.

Paul was asked to speak the word of the Lord in the synagogue at Antioch a second time. This took place in the presence of almost the whole city (13:44ff.). After the controversy between Paul and his fellow Israelites in Antioch, Jewish men and women aroused the devout women high standing and the leaders of the city and provoked a persecution against Paul and Barnabas (v. 50). Something similar happened in Corinth, where the missionary activity of Paul was at first persuasive among Jews and Greeks (18:4-5), but again led to conflicts, at which point he announced that he would go to the Gentiles (v. 6). Instead, however, he goes to the house of the “god-fearer,” Titius Justus next door to the synagogue. It is also reported that the head of the synagogue believed in the Lord, with his whole household and many Corinthian men and women, and they all were baptized (w. 7-8).

In light of the passages from Acts just adduced, we may conclude:

First, sebomenoi (ton theon ), often mentioned in association with Jews appear only from the point at which Paul and his fellow missionaries have begun “to go into the synagogue” in the cities of the diaspora where there are existing Jewish communities with which non-Jews are associated. They do not appear again after Acts 18:7. It is not accidental that after Acts 19:8 (Ephesus) we no longer read of Paul’s going into the synagogues. (112) Sebomenoi then, are usually mentioned in connection with the synagogue and are associated with the synagogue in some way.

Second, we cannot deduce from these passages in Acts that god-fearers were generally despised or regarded as inferior by the Jews because the males in the group were not circumcised.(113)

Third, the complete expression sebomenê/sebomenos ton theon appears only twice: in 16:14 for Lydia, and in 18:7 for Titius Justus. Otherwise we find only the adjective without the accusative. Whether the simple adjective always means “god-fearers,” persons associated with Judaism, is questionable insofar as it is used in a general sense as a “typical expression of Greek piety.” (114) According to Acts 19:27, Diana is also worshiped sebesthai, which shows that the simple verb or its substantive form need not always refer to those associated with Judaism. In the expanded expression, the accusative serves to designate the deity who is worshiped. Since terms like theos, theos hypsistos or kyrios were regarded in the Greek-speaking diaspora as designations of the Jewish god, (115) there can be no doubt that sebomenê/sebomenos ton theon means “worshipers of [the Jewish] god,” the more so when such expressions appear in connection with the synagogue.

Fourth, it is not easy to discern the social status and economic-political connections of the sebomenoi (ton theon) from the passages in Acts where the term appears. It appears to me that it is incorrect with respect both to method and to the content of the material to make Acts 13:50 a rule governing all the others, because this fails to take account the emphasis in the text, namely that “devout women of high standing” are the subject, and not all devout women in general. I also see it as methodologically problematic to interpret all “god-fearers analogy with Cornelius, that is, to take Cornelius as the typical example representing all statuses. Christian exegetes believe that Christianity recruited very strongly from the ranks of the “god-fearers,” who are supposed to have been of considerable significance for Judaism, both economically and terms of local politics. Christians are thought to have brought Jewish enmity upon themselves by attracting these people away from Judaism. Folker Siegert writes: “Women of high standing among god-fearers appear with remarkable frequency in Acts [the reference is to 13:50; 16:14; 17:4, 12]. The Jews had . . . particular success among women: those of high standing were especially useful to them in local politics and economically as well. That is why the bitter enmity of the Jews repeatedly lashed out at the Christian missionaries (116) Rudolf Pesch formulates his interpretation as follows, in commenting on Acts 17:4: “The fact that the missionaries enticed women from prominent circles away from the synagogue is an understandable reason for Jewish ‘jealousy.’ ” (117) He also writes, with regard to Acts 17:12: “Again the synagogue (cf. 4c) has women ‘of high standing’ (cf. Luke 8:3 [!]; Acts 13:50) among the god-fearers, who are now converted [to Christianity].” (118) We need not contest the fact that there were rich women with influence in local politics who often espoused the Jewish religion and used their position to lend it political and economic support. Many such women are documented in the literature and in inscriptions. (119) But to generalize from that fact to the idea that god-fearers belonged exclusively or overwhelmingly to the upper classes is, in my opinion, not a correct conclusion from the evidence. Acts, in fact, mentions devout women of high standing only in 13:50 and 17:4, 12. These passages attest that devout women from the upper classes did not always and everywhere attach themselves to the (Christian) missionaries.(120)

It is evident from both inscriptional and literary material that women were particularly inclined to accept and practice the Jewish religion. A story recorded by Josephus (121) tells us that almost all the women of Damascus, (122) Queen Helena of Adiabene, and the “women that belonged to the king” in Charax Spasini on the Persian Gulf (123) had converted to Judaism.

Although the words sebomenoi and phoboymenoi (ton theon) and do not appear in inscriptions, to my knowledge, (124) the Latin concept of metuens/ metuentes can be regarded as synonymous with sebomenoi or phoboymenoi (125) Appearances of these words can not only support the existence of “God-fearers” but also substantiate the thesis that it was especially women who adopted the Jewish religion, for the existing tomb inscriptions, with one exception, also mention the names of those who have died. They are Larciae Quadrati(llae), (126) Maiania Homeris, (127) a woman whose name is lost, (128) Aurelia Soteria, (129) and Aelia Criste mentioned alongside Aelius Priscilianus (her husband). (130) One inscription retains the name of an Emilio Valenti. (131) Apart from these inscriptions, so far as I know, there are no others that mention metuens/ metuentes. Of six inscriptions, four name only women, one names a married couple, and one a man. But if the Latin word colens (deum) can also be regarded as a synonym for “worshipers of god,” (132) we have a further indication of “god-fearers.” Again it is a woman, Julia Irene Arista, who is named. (133)

The inscriptions mentioned above give us clear information only about the gender of the “god-fearers.” In my opinion, these inscriptions permit no absolute certainty or general conclusion regarding the economic or sociopolitical status of the “god-fearers.” (134) At best, something more concrete can be drawn from texts. But even when the text gives key information about a “god-fearer,” no all-encompassing thesis can be derived from it,(135) because “there is no historical information to show that the god-fearers appeared within the life of the Jewish or Gentile society as a circumscribed, cohesive group, so that one could speak of them as a [social] class. (136)

The text of Acts 16:14, unlike all the other passages that mention sebomenoi (ton theon), takes pains to describe certain qualities of the devout Lydia, and it does not—as do 13:50; 17:4, 12—say that she was “well-to-do” or “of high standing,” but speaks very simply and at the same time in detail of her profession and place of origin. In order to be able to better describe her socio-economic situation, we will, in what follows, investigate her work world.

It is difficult to ascertain from the sources why more women than men accepted and practiced the Jewish way of life. (137) Luise Schottroff has shown that the Jewish religion must have offered women—as in the case of the “king’s women” in Charax Spasini—”a possibility to express the identity of women as a group, an identity that did not exist before.” (138) Indeed, in that religion also it is demonstrable that women could share in leadership functions. (139)

Lydia’s Employment

The text says of Lydia that she was a porphuropôlis. The word is universally translated as “dealer in purple cloth.” The text itself tells us nothing further about that profession. We may suppose that in that place and context further explanation was unnecessary, since the profession was known. But what kind of work did Lydia do, and how was it regarded ? First we will consider the commentaries, and then the literary and inscriptional material

A Review of New Testament Commentaries

Current New Testament exegesis has a distinct idea about this profession. Observations are not focused on the precise meaning of the job tself but on what can be deduced from it about the social position of Lydia. Thus at the end of the last century J. Felten (140) categorically asserted that Lydia was well-to-do, “since dealing in purple required a substantial capital because of the costliness of the material, and she [Lydia] exhibited a great degree of hospitality (see v. 15).” Other exegetes have followed this and similar statements. (141) Only a few fail to draw like conclusions from this description of Lydia’s profession . (142) Gottfried Schille is the only commentator of this century who does not presume Lydia’s wealth as a given: “It is not evident that Lydia was wealthy.” (143) The argumentation and the evidence produced is fragmentary on both sides; some do not even bother to offer any argument. When some point out that there were purple dyeing works or a “purple industry” in Thyatira, they apparently do so in order to give a “solid” basis to the presumption of Lydia’s wealth and to explain it through this circumstance. Expressions like “having a great deal of capital at her disposal,” “luxury goods,” and “lucrative business” quickly follow.

Overall, the traditional exegesis has failed to ask what kind of work Lydia really did. With the exception of Schille, the interpreters simply presume that work with purple dye, or purple goods, had made Lydia a rich woman. We will now test this presumption by examining the meaning of the statement that Lydia was a porphuropôlis from Thyatira.

Lydia’s Origins

The text finds it important to emphasize that Lydia came from Thyatira. In seeking further information about Thyatira, I will concentrate principally on business and trade in that place.

Thyatira: A Long Lydian Tradition of Textile Work

It appears from the inscriptions cited in the following notes that there were a great many workers both sexes in the Lydian city of Thyatira who were organized into guilds. There were bakers, (144) potters or ceramicists (145) tanners, (146) leather workers and shoemakers, (147) blacksmiths, (148) linen weavers, (149) woo1 spinners, (150) tailors, (151) and finally dyers. (152) The last three categories describe workers who were especially representative of the Lydian region. Textile work, especially making and working with woollen stuffs, is also attested in Ephesus (153) and Philadelphia. (154)

It is true that the inscriptions CIG 3496 and 3497, which attest the presence of bapheis, “dyers,” in Thyatira, are from the time of Caracalla, (155) when the dye works and clothing manufactories had already been in the hands of the Roman empire for some time and were under the emperor’s direct control. (156) But Thyatira had been famous from earliest times for its textile production and the dye works associated with it. (157) It is all the more amazing that there are no inscriptions from Thyatira that mention, for example, porphurobapheis“purple dyers,” (158) but only bapheis “dyers.” This detail has been overlooked or suppressed by the commentators, although in my opinion it is important. If these inscriptions make no special mention of purple dyers, this means that a variety of colors were made there, and not uniquely purple dye.

Lydia comes from a region known for the production of dyed wool and woollen clothing. No one denies that work with wool was an activity typical of women.

“She kept house, she made wool.”

 

Dyeing was part of the production and preparation of wool. It is even said that the dyeing of wool was a Lydian invention. (159) The invention of linen weaving is also ascribed to Arachne, who was a Lydian. (160) It is no accident or poetic invention that Lydian women were repeatedly mentioned in connection with textile dyeing. (161)

Making wool thread and cloth and working with them had been a typical work of women from the most ancient times, as is clear from part of the tomb inscription of Claudia in Rome: domum servavit, lanam fecit (“she kept house, she made wool”). (162) Here as in Prov. 31:10-31 (LXX), we find an expression of the ideal of womanhood that, like the myth of Arachne, sheds light on concrete conditions: a gunaika andreian, a “capable woman,” should or does produce, among other things, textiles and clothing for everyone’s use, that is, for herself and all the members of her household. She makes them with her own hands, of wool and flax; she dyes the cloth purple and spins it. “capable woman” is not one of the poor (31:20), but she herself has no slaves. She works with her own hands. Words derived, for example, from poiein (“to make,” “to manufacture”), cheiras(“hands”), endyein (“clothe”) appear with remarkable frequency in Prov. 31:10-31. In this passage porphyra, “purple,” refers to clothing or material made and dyed by the housewife herself, and used for her own and others’ clothing. She is able to enjoy the results of her own labor: 31:31 emphasizes this fact. Cicero also knows of a woman named Lamia in the city of Segeste on the northern coast of Sicily (in this case, a wealthy woman) like the women of other households, makes wool and produces purple-dyed cloth and clothing. (163)

Proverbs 31:10-31, CIL 1.2.1211, and Cicero all show that the work of making textiles was at first restricted to the household or extended family But even when it was for the most part produced in business establishments, it remained mainly a woman’s task, (164) so that the imperial clothing factories from the third century onward were still known as gynaecea/gynaeciarii. (165) It is therefore historically correct to read the inscriptions that speak of bapheis as referring to female dyers as well as men. In this connection, we can already anticipate what is to come by saying that in the exercise of this profession, women were not restricted to the household as the place of their activity.

Wherever textiles were produced and used in the manufacture of finished products, dye-stuffs were highly important: “Dye-stuff plays a major part in the coloring of textiles; in all cases it is a question of organic dyes. In antiquity, this special application was restricted primarily to coloring materials extracted from plants.” (166)

The Business of Purple Dye and Purple Cloth

What was understood at that time under the designation “purple”? How was purple cloth produced and sold? It is important to observe how differently work was evaluated in those times. Here again, we must consult both literary and inscriptional material.

The Many Shadings of a Concept

The word porphyra, Latin purpura, has three principal meanings. Its first reference is to a type of sea snail. There were two kinds: (167) the kêrex (bucinum, murex) and the porphyra (purpura, pelagia). From the latter tne original, animal purple dye was extracted: the second reference of word is to this dye, and the third meaning of the word is the dyed material itself, purple cloth. (168)

The word appears in biblical texts, mainly in its third meaning as purple cloth or clothing: 1 Macc. 4:23 (LXX); Luke 16:19; Mark 15:17, 20. Revelation 17:4; 18:12, 16 also indicate, in my opinion, that there we different types and qualities of purple cloth.

First Maccabees 4:23 says that, after the battle, Judas despoiled the vanquished and took away chrusion polu kai argyrion hyakinthon kai pophyran thalassian kai plouton megan as booty. This is always translated as: “they seized a great amount of gold and silver, and cloth dyed blue and sea purple, and great riches.” The sequence of the listing according to the value of what was taken. Another meaning for hyakinthon is “jacinth” (a semiprecious stone); (169) in that case the text would read “and they seized a great amount of gold and silvery jacinth, sea purple and great riches.” Or it may be that hyakinthon is intended to draw a clear distinction between plant and animal purple dye; that is, the text would be speaking of dye extracted from the hyacinth (blue) and from sea creatures (purple). (170) The phrase pophyran thalassian is, in any case quite specific and indicates that there were other types of purple that were not made from animal dyes.

Whereas Rev. 17:4; 18:12, 16 distinguish the types of purple in a series ordered according to value, using different terms for each (porphyra, kokkinon) , the situation in other texts is more complicated because the same word, porphyra, is used to describe items of different value. This can be illustrated by looking at Luke 16:19 and Mark 15:17, 20 in their respective contexts. Whereas the wearing of purple in Luke 16:19 can be a sign of wealth, this is not the case in Mark 15:17, 20. There the persons involved are common soldiers, and their action in clothing Jesus in a purple cloak is symbolic and intended to ridicule Jesus. That the word porphyra was used without always referring to a symbol of luxury status is clear from these same passages in Mark. It is made still, more obvious by Matthew’s correction of this story: Matt. 27:28 refers to a clamyda kokkinên, a “soldier’s purple [or scarlet] cloak.” Matthew makes an alteration here to make clear what porphyra means: that there were many types and qualities of purple subsumed under the same heading. Matthew is making an effort to be specific at this point. (171)

The Manufacture of Various Kinds of Purple Dye and Purple Cloth

The word porphyra(purpura) does not always refer to the original dye* stuff extracted from snails or to the cloth dyed with that substance;’ can also describe colors and colored materials that merely resemble tn original. (172) Two processes quite frequently used to produce an imitation of the original purple have been known for a long time: (173) first, various types of purple dye extracted from snails are mixed to produce, among other things, a cheaper “genuine” purple; second, certain plants wet also used to produce a purple color. For Pliny it is a matter of course that in wool production both animal dyes (that is, those extracted from snails and plant dyes will be used. (174) Among the colors for various purposes that he mentions, he also distinguishes individual types and qualities of animal purple obtained by particular combinations, (175) all of which he ultimately categorizes among the artificially produced colors (176) This artificial purple is not only “diluted,” but is also produced by adulterating nature’s adulterations.” (177) The different types and qualities of purple are also associated with particular localities. Thus, for example, there was the good, original purple produced especially in Tyre (in Asia), Meninx (in Africa), Laconia (in Europe), and Puteoli (in Europe). (178) It appears from Pliny, Naturalis Historia 35.45, that there was an inferior, cheaper type from Canosa (in Apulia). Prices differed accordingly, with the cost of a pound varying from 1 to 30 denarii. (179)

In Lydia it seems that purple dye was produced in many cities, including the capital at Sardis, being derived from coccum (180) and even from saltpeter (nitrum) dried in the sun. (181) In Hierapolis in Phrygia, where there were both porphurobapheis and ordinary bapheis, (182) it was also possible, because of the character of the water, to extract a famous purple dye from roots that are no longer known today. (183) Thus there was purple derived from plants; the color was not inferior to that extracted from animals, and it was used for the dyeing of wool. Pliny writes:

‘Moreover, we know that clothes are dyed with a wonderful dye from a plant, and, to say nothing of the fact that, of the berries of Galatia, Africa, and Lusitania, the “coccum” [granis coccum] is specially reserved to color the military cloaks of our generals, Transalpine Gaul can produce with vegetable dyes Tyrian purple, oyster purple, and all other colors.’ (184)

Among the plants used for the production of purple vegetable dye were husgê (granis coccum),hyakinthos or hyacinth (= vaccinium or “blueberry” and eruthrodenon (rubia or “madder”). (185) It appears from Natualis Historia 35.45 that both the animal and vegetable dyes were called Purple,” for in Puteoli purple was produced from the juice of hysginum(” crimson”) and rubia (“madder”). Rubia was used for a number of purposes: in addition to its medical use it served “to dye wool and to tan leather.” (186) Pliny remarks elsewhere that this plant is known “only to the avaricious herd [sordido], ” namely for the dyeing of wool and leather. (187)

This purple extracted from plants was also used for slaves’ clothing. (188) Cicero reports, in addition, that the beds in slaves’ sleeping chambers bore the purple coverlets of Gnaeus Pompeius. (189) He is also aware that not all purples are the same: for example, he knows that the original type comes from Tyre, but that there is also a purpura plebeia. (190) The distinction among types of purple is also found in Quintilian, who makes use of the symbolic quality of the color to describe the art of oratory and the clothing then associated with it; (191) he is also aware of “adulterations” or imitations of the genuine, animal purple. (192)

Thyatira is mentioned for its dyeing establishments both in literature and in inscriptions. Nowhere, however, is it said that purple extracted from animals was involved in those operations. Since the evidence does not emphasize this, it appears more likely that the dye works in Thyatira produced vegetable purple. Mention of wool production accords well with the existence of dye works, since both operations were ordinarily carried on in tandem. Because the inscriptions at Thyatira make no mention of porphurobapheis, scholarly discussion outside the New Testament field has assumed that the dyers in Thyatira extracted their purple dye from rubia. (193) The theologians M. Clévenot and C.J. Hemer similarly assert that “In Lydia . . . the city of Thyatira was known for the madder root that grew in its fields, while sheep and goats provided the necessary material for the production of cloth and wool blankets.” (194) “Its [Thyatira’s] purple dye came from the madder root rather than the marine murex, and the use of this substance is attested in the district until the present century.” (195) On the basis of this information that purple dye and cloth were made in Thyatira from madder roots, we can understand why K. Schneider (196) does not include Thyatira in a long list of cities in which animal purple was produced and utilized: he is primarily concerned with the production of animal purple, but not with vegetable purple dyes.

Nevertheless, I believe we may be quite certain about the basis of purple production in Thyatira. In spite of the opinions of Clerc, Clévenot, and Hemer, (197) it appears to me that there is no absolutely clear evidence, and for that very reason we may not presume beforehand that it is a question of superior products or luxury articles. In light of the sources that have come to light, indeed, it is historically very probable that the purple of Thyatira was made from vegetable materials. This, and the vegetable-mineral mixed purple, were also produce in the purpurariis (officinis), as we see from Pliny, Naturalis Historia 35.44-46, and 9.140-41. But the fact that purple dye was extracted, for example, from madder roots is not merely something derived from evidence of ancient writers and artists. People are still working with the same substance today. (198) Hence, to say that the bapheis the “dyers,” in Thyatira were solely purple dyers is a historical misunderstanding or a simplification of the manifold range of methods available at that time for the production and imitation of dye-stuffs. This simplification can also be observed in New Testament exegesis. In my opinion, it is used to lend support to the idea, current in today’s wealthy Western world, that Lydia the first Christian in “Europe,” was herself a wealthy woman.

Was Lydia a European Wholesaler?

There is no literary or inscriptional evidence for the existence of specialized wholesale merchants in Thyatira who devoted themselves to the sale of products such as purple dye or purple cloth. It was different, for example, in Tyre, where there were emporoi and nayklêroi(mercatores), “wholesalers,” who subsequently settled in Puteoli and Rome. (199) Hence it is also not particularly remarkable that historians only mention Lydia at the point when they treat bapheis “dyers;” (200) they put Lydia in the context of the dyers’ trade. Dio Chrysostomus (201) asserts that it is much cheaper (costing only two or three minas) to buy kalên porphyran “good purple-dyed material” direct from the dyers. (202) This also agrees with the Latin word purpurarius/a, the Latin equivalent of pophuropôlês/is, referring to people who work both in dyeing and in the sale of the dyed products. (203) We will refer to this inscriptional usage again later.

This work brought Lydia, who grew up in the Lydian tradition of wool production and wool working, to Philippi. How and from whom she learned this work can be guessed in connection with her religious adherence. (204) Lydia is further evidence that women’s work with textiles did not remain confined to the household, but that they took to the road or were compelled to travel in order to sell what they produced. Lydia is not an isolated example. We find inscriptional evidence of a married couple on the island of Cos in which both the man and his wife had the same job description as Lydia. (205) However, the Latin equivalent, purpurarius/a, is much more common.(206) It is striking that in most cases the inscriptions mention not individuals, but whole groups. Most of these groups are made up of women and men, (207) but women were apparently numerous, and often constituted a majority within the group, as CIL 6.984, 9848 attest.

“DIRTY WORK.” A Passage in Cicero (De Off. 1.42, 150-51) clearly reveals the estimation of various professions and occupations that existed in the society  of the time, as set down by Cicero. He here lists the occupations worthy (liberales) of a free person and those that are unworthy (inliberales) and filthy (sordidi); in doing so, he reflects “the ideas of a powerful elite.” (208)

“. . . ungentlemanly and sordid are the earnings of hired hands who are paid for their physical efforts rather than their skill; for the very wages they receive are a token of slavery. Retail dealers are little better, for they have little to gain unless they are pretty dishonest, and deserve no credit if they are. The occupation of a craftsman is also to be scorned, for what well-born man could possibly spend his time in a workshop (officina)?”
Honorable and worthy of free persons are professions like medicine, architecture, teaching, and wholesale trade combined with the possession of large landed estates:

“Those professions which require skilled training, or fulfil a useful function, such as medicine, architecture or the teaching of the liberal arts, are reputable for those whose station in life they suit. The career of a merchant (mercatura) is only to be despised (sordida) if pursued on a small scale, but if it includes large and valuable transactions and imports from all over the world … it is not so much to be condemned; in fact, if those who indulge in it become satisfied or at any rate are prepared to be content with their profits, and retire from the harbor to their country estates just as they had frequently retired to the harbor from the sea, this seems to be entirely commendable. But of all the sources of income the life of a farmer (agri cultura) is the best, pleasantest, most profitable and most befitting a gentleman.”

Cicero here represents the common, dominant opinion and thus supports Roman patriarchy, the system of the pax Romana. (209) The dichotomy and dualism between “spiritual” and “physical” on the one hand, and on the other hand (although connected with it) between worthwhile and less worthwhile work is striking in this passage from Cicero. Everything that demands either “practical” or “philosophical” wisdom (De Off 1.43, 153), and whatever brings a great deal of profit, he regards as worthy and honorable (honestus). Everything that demands work with the hands and does not bring much profit is considered despicable and filthy (sordidus).

Cicero’s reflection of the dominant opinion seems illustrative to me because it applies not to wholesale merchants, but to the making goods for sale and the business of dealing in those goods on a small scale. Work with purple was normally done in workshops (purpurariis officinis). (210) According to Cicero, this was dirty work, so we may suppose that the workers were looked down upon. This attitude had concrete effects, which can be illustrated by two examples: first, the inscription CIL 1.1413, according to which a certain workshop of this kind was outside the city of Rome, in the Via Salaria; second, Plutarch (211) writes that a person should always pursue only the best, rejoice over what is beautiful, and eagerly imitate the deeds of noble men in order to act just as they do. But then he speaks of tasks in which there is no desire to do likewise, rather the contrary: “Often we take pleasure in a thing, but we despise the one who made it. Thus we value aromatic salves and purple clothing, but the dyers and salve-makers remain for us common and low craftspersons [because they do work that is unworthy of a free person].” (212) Dirty work done in dye works and tanneries also had to be conducted outside the city because of the stink it produced. (213) According to Pliny (214) the production of purple cloth by the use of vegetable dyes is also a filthy (sordidum) job. On this basis, we can discern a deeper meaning in Acts 16:13: synagogue buildings were located in the vicinity of the people who belonged to them. (215) Moreover, a good deal of water was needed for working with purple. (216) Thus the information contained in exô tês pyles para potamon “outside the gate by the river” (Acts 16:13) may refer not merely to the common practice of locating synagogues near water, (217) but also to the fact that Lydia and her household conducted their business, which was socially despised as dirty work, outside the city and near the water that was so abundantly available in Philippi. (218)

THE WORK of SLAVES and FREED PERSONS. The production and processing of textiles was not only typical woman’s work; it was done primarily by slaves and freed persons. (219) According to CI 1.1413; 6.4016, 9847; 14.473, also, purpurarii were slaves or freed persons. (220) We may infer from CIL 1.1413 that the group of people freed at the same time continued under the authority of the patronus; apparently they are still working for him (221) It also appears from Digesta 38.1.45 that purpurarii, to the extent they could be said to be negotiatores vestiarii, Were also slaves who, after being freed, could only continue their work in the same place and in the same town without the consent of the patronus who freed them if their liberator suffered no economic or social injury (laesio) as a result. There was a long history of experience behind this law. It makes clear why so many small merchants had to take to the road, and why they could not continue to practice the trade they had learned as slaves in their homeland or hometown after they had been freed, (222) or how it happened that, even as freed persons, they had to continue performing the same services (to the extent that they continued in the same trade after being liberated) for the one who had released them. (223) Thus according to Digesta 38 and the experiences on which it was based, freed persons continued to be very closely tied to the one who had freed them, especially from an economic point of view. Had there been no such connections, or had they been rare, the legal texts extending to the end of the imperial period would not have treated them so consistently and in such detail, nor would they have needed to establish legal norms for such a relationship, as is the case in the texts in question. (224) We may also consider Luise Schottroff’s observation regarding Lydia’s work within this context: “In general, the manufacturing and the sale of dyed products were done by the same people. That means the dye-house was operated by an owner with several employees. These employees both worked in the dye-house and sold the wool.” (225) In line with this, we could suggest at this point that Lydia was an employee in one of the many dye works in Thyatira.

        Retail trade as well, especially in connection with the production and processing of textiles, was characteristically the work of freed persons.(226) But even though slaves and freed persons are inscriptionally attested as purpurarii,/span> this does not prove that Lydia was one of them. It is something that must still be considered. (227) In any case, her name indicates that she had been a slave at some point: “Lydia” is an ethnicon, (228) but originally etbnica were more appellatives than personal names. The were applied especially to slaves and hetaerae because they described special features of their origin, nationality, and thus particular racial or ethnic characteristics that served to single out their bearers. It was possible for an ethnicon to become a personal name, so that freed persons continued to bear the ethnicon as their own name. This is revealing in the case of Lydia.

   At this point some reflections on the relationship between the large, organized dyer guilds and the Roman authorities are in order. The bapheis, or some of them, may well have been faithful participants or collaborators in the pax Romana. This was the case for the majority at least from the second century c.e. onward, as CIG 3497 from Thyatira indicates: Titus Antonius Claudius Alpheus Arignotus, to whom the inscription is dedicated, was the commander of a number of military troops and, as such, also held many religious offices in the service of the state. We cannot draw a general conclusion from this that at an early period all dyer organizations were always subservient to the Imperium Romanum and followed its orders in all things, including in matters religious. This was, in fact, the norm even for organizations of ordinary people primarily in the collegia, but it was not the everyday rule of life. There were also a great many collegia illicita. In addition, we know that there were frequent imperial interventions in the licita, and that the illicita existed at least for that length of time and could frequently organize themselves in opposition to the pax Romana, as long as they were not discovered (229) Obedience to and compliance with all official regulations was not the rule, as, for example, another inscription from the same period as that of the bapheis in Thyatira shows. The people mentioned in this inscription (230) are a counter-example to those named in CIG 3497, because here it appears that the purple dyers in Hierapolis celebrated the feast of unleavened bread (en tê heortê tôn azymôn). They were therefore Jews who did not bow to at least one essential ideological component of the pax Romana, namely the religious.

Lydia’s House

Having considered the women’s place of assembly and Lydia’s profession, I now turn to the next piece of information in the text. Acts 16:15 uses the word oikos twice: Lydia’s “house” is baptized along with her, and she has a house of her own. The same word here refers to different things: first it applies to people who are connected with Lydia, and then to a place, namely her dwelling.

    Hellenistic Greek usage comprehended a number of meanings under the term oikos, so that the same word could, for example, describe a variety of locations and relationships. This word includes meanings ranging from “cave,” “cabin,” “tent,” “temple,” “dwelling,” and “house” to “household,” “wealth,” and “family property.” (231)

Was Lydia a Widow, or the Presider
over a Congregation?

It is difficult to determine exactly what is meant by the word “house” in this verse. H.-J. Klauck makes it a principle of interpretation to extract e meaning of oikos only from its individual occurrences within the context of the text itself, to the extent that the context offers clues to the word’s meaning. (232) He himself applies this rule to Acts 10:7 and here he finds that the word serves to denominate the members of a household named by means of this “house” formula, namely those of Cornelius and Lydia. (233) Acts 10:7 makes it clear that the house of Cornelius includes at least two household slaves and a pious soldier, all of whom are mentioned concretely in the Cornelius story. In the case of Lydia, it seems that Klauck cannot deduce anything from the context; nevertheless, he asserts that Lydia was “an independent businesswoman possibly a widow”; her house must “with some certainty [have included] servant women and slaves who [were] indispensable in her mercantile business.”

Like Klauck, Peter Stuhlmacher (234) takes as his rule that “[it can] only be determined from the context who belongs to the oikos (oikia)) and who does not,” because the oikos does not always represent the same group of people, but can refer to others. Unlike Klauck, however, Stuhlmacher draws the following conclusion from the application of his thesis: Whereas in Acts 10:1-8, 24-48 we can learn who the probable members of Cornelius’s household were (v. 7), this is impossible in the case of Lydia. From these two texts (Acts 10:1-8, 24-48; 16:5) we can derive only one common aspect, namely that neither of them contains any mention of children.

The discussion remains controversial. The examples just given show how difficult, if not impossible, it is to determine from the text who and what constituted Lydia’s house. However, New Testament scholarship has not been lacking in suggestions. Lydia is everything from a “wealthy and independent woman,” probably head of an extended family, (235) to a “widow in charge of an orderly household.” (236) C. F. Nösgen produces a reason why Lydia is to be thought of as a widow: “Nothing is said about a man; the text appears to speak of her [Lydia’s] oikos in v. 15 at the time of the baptism. Thus it appears that Lydia is a widow.” (237) This manner of speaking makes it clear that critics always expect or presuppose that the word oikos will refer to the situation that was the rule in that era as well: A man is head of the house. This thesis is then regularly applied to all texts in which oikos appears. From that point of view, and in any reading guided by this thesis, Lydia must necessarily be a widow. But it appears to me that Lydia’s house is a direct contradiction to these patriarchal ideas, whereby the man plays the role of husband, father and master, and in which wife, children, and slaves are part of the property of the house, that is, of the man (238) It is only in the context of this or a similar view of things that a statement like “[t]he house and family are the smallest natural groups in the total structure of the congregation” (239) can be considered to be true.

The dominant interpretation of this story reveals the difficulties that confront us in considering the matter of Lydia’s house. “This exegetical history does not try to hide its intentions: The first female Christians had to be from the upper middle class; they were not allowed to question the patriarchal family and the patriarchal organization of religion.” (240) I want to inquire whether Lydia’s house can be understood in some other way than in the exegesis that has dominated until now. In the following sections it will repeatedly appear that Lydia was a very important person, the head of a worshiping community.

“My House” — A Community of Work and Faith

Work with purple cloth required a considerable number of hands. No doubt Lydia, too, found a large number of people “indispensable” for carrying out her job. However, that does not necessarily mean that they were Lydia’s slaves. (241) Luise Schottroff has correctly shown that “[e]ven the lowly could, under certain circumstances, have a female slave,” (242) but she also concedes that we are not compelled to make that assumption in this case. The text gives no indication of this, nor of the existence of a patriarchal “family.” The inscriptional evidence discussed above (on pp. 105-109) shows that, normally, a group of women and men worked together in the production of purple cloth. They traveled together and sold the products they had made. In many cases, as illustrated especially by CIL. 1413; 6.4016, 9847-48; 14.473, these were a group of slaves or freed persons and their companions.

The women gathered in the synagogue, or some of them, may have been part of Lydia’s house. We may suspect this from the text, to the extent that it continues to describe the episode begun in v. 13. We may speculate that this was an exclusively “female household,” but that must remain open. Certainly such a thing is historically possible: At that time there were a number of women’s groups who, for example, “accepted the Jewish religion on their own accord and practiced it . . . without male leadership or any other form of legitimization.” (243) The existence of women’s houses is also attested for Naples by IG 14.760. (244) Therefore I think we are justified in supposing at this point that Lydia’s house was composed primarily of women.

In this connection, and on the basis of the many inscriptions mentioned above, we may also consider whether the other women who worked with Lydia in Philippi were foreigners, like Lydia herself. Purpurarii were mainly freed persons who settled in other cities to do their work, normally in small groups; in such groups, women were frequently in the majority. (245) This association and shared work was a form of organization practiced by common people who were attempting, together, to earn a subsistence income and at the same time to shape their social and religious lives in common. (246) Slaves and freed persons were almost entirely organized in “collegia” and “houses,” and it was not exceptional for one of them to be found at the head of the group, for example as its patronus or patrona. (247)

The common notion that Lydia’s house was very large and that her business had “brought her a substantial fortune,” that is, that she had enjoyed “economic success,” (248) is unpersuasive for two reasons: On the one hand, at that time there was no large-scale textile production. (249) On the other hand, it cannot be demonstrated that people who worked in the production and sale of purple goods ever played an important eco- nomic role in Philippi; there is only one purpuraria(ii) inscription at Philippi (CIL 3.664). (250) From what has been said thus far, we are more inclined to conclude that Lydia’s work was a subsistence occupation for herself and her house.

Another consideration is important at this point. In the New Testament period there was a strict dividing line between the upper and lower classes that was difficult to cross. We really cannot speak of a “middle class” in the present meaning of the term. (251) Craftspeople and small merchants were also part of the plebs urbana. Even when they had a “better” economic status (in comparison, say, to beggars), so that they even employed a few slaves or freed people, they were socially despised by the upper classes. In the eyes of the upper crust, their economic position was insignificant. (252) This contempt for ordinary working people on the part of the upper classes was based, as we hav seen, on their “dirty,” “undignified,” and “ignoble” professions, as seen from the point of view of the upper classes. In addition, this contempt was partly motivated by the fact that a considerable number of the people practicing those trades and professions came from the East. (253)

On the basis of these observations, we may offer the following considerations: It is possible that there were slaves in Lydia’s house, and it is probable that the income of her house made possible a better economic state of things than the lot of beggars. But still, as foreigners from the East who carried on a despised trade and also practiced the Jewish religion in that Roman colony, they belonged to the plebs urbana,the common people. As such, they were required at all times to work with their hands to earn their income and livelihood, and they were (as was customary with this kind of work) quite possibly not permanently resident in Philippi. They are not to be equated with the great merchants of the period. (254) These latter sold the goods produced on their estates by slaves, and thus concentrated the wealth in their own hands; among many other products, they also sold porphyra see Acts 18).

“Come to My House” — A House Church at Philippi

Acts 16:12-15, 40 is a detailed narrative of the steps in founding a Christian house church. It seems to me that the narrative, so rich in detail about the lives of women (or one aspect of their lives), is pointed toward such a foundation. To put it another way, it seems to have been important to the author, through this narrative, to give a more precise description of the leader or presider over this house. It became increasngly important to me to inquire more penetratingly into the question of the author’s precise emphases. In investigating the concrete meaning of the description of Lydia, I have also been confronted with other women who did the same or similar kinds of work and belonged to the same religious community. Lydia thus led me to other religiously committed working women. She opens a door to an important aspect of the history of women, a history that for the most part has been lost, hidden, or veiled, and continues to be obscured. Lydia was not an exceptional woman in her time, who then capped the story by adhering to Christianity because she was also looking for something “better” in her religious life.

The implications of the descriptive terms applied to Lydia and her environment give us access to her social world. But certain key words Luke uses also sketch the social and economic location of this community. Luke does not speak of just any people who went to the synagogue on the Sabbath and listened to the words of Paul’s proclamation, accepted baptism, and confessed the Jewish-Christian faith. These were women who had done hard and difficult work, women who, even before the arrival of Paul, had led a religious life in common. They were women for whom it was a matter of life and death to be together; who drew from their Jewish religion the strength for their daily lives. This religion had offered them “a possibility to express the identity of women a group, an identity that did not exist before” (255) because Judaism, like other eastern religions, “gave women a higher standing in comparison to the subordinating roles they had in state religion, and . . . allowed women to participate in leadership functions.” It was important to the author to hand on this traditional foundation story in such a way that it was still possible to discern the social location of this house community within the overall sociopolitical constellation.

Let me now turn to the question of the theological, missionary, and organizational elements (256) in a house church/community like this one.

Lydia’s Fidelity

The founding of this house church in Philippi takes place, according to the text, not primarily at or because of the baptism of the members, but only afterward. Acts 16:15 reads: “When she [Lydia] and her household were baptized, she urged us, saying, ‘If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.’ And she prevailed upon us.” The expressions we find here are peculiar; in context, I think, they make a powerful statement. They include, for example, parakalein, “to urge,” “to entreat,” “to demand”; krinein me pistên … einai “to judge [someone] faithful [etc.]”; and parabiazesthai, “to prevail upon,” “to constrain,” “to compel.”

The decision to enter Lydia’s house cannot be made by Lydia herself, in the final sense, but depends on the missionaries’ judgment. Lydia invites them, however, and offers them the means of decision, which in her case is itself a judgment. They are to decide about her fidelity to the Lord. That fidelity may be a precondition for baptism, or something constituted by it, since krineinis in the perfect tense and therefore describes something that has already occurred. We may suppose, then, that in baptizing Lydia the missionaries have already made a positive judgment about her “fidelity.” The founding of the house church is therefore only to be understood as a direct consequence of her baptism to the extent that the positive judgment about fidelity to the Lord, that is, Lydia’s faithfulness, belongs to and is a part of baptism. But if Lydia is true to the Jewish Jesus Christ preached by Paul and his companions, she is so within a society that owes fidelity to the Roman emperor, and her fidelity is a subversion of the dominant order (257) The fidelity of Lydia’s house to the Jewish Lord represents a simultaneous infidelity to the Roman emperor and his officials. The two are mutually exclusive. (258) The founding and existence of this house church rest on Lydia’s fidelity, which then appears also as a precondition or component of baptism. Essential to this fidelity are obedience, trust, and hope—or, to put it another way, a sweeping, hopeful trust that also dares obedience to a God who stands in relationship to human beings (in this case, Lydia and her household) and gives them a share in God’s salvation.

Rudolf Bultmann (259) attempts to distinguish points of unity and diversity between “faith” in the Old and New Testaments. Obedience, fidelity, trust, and hope are of central importance in both the Old Testament a the New, and are even closely connected. It remains problematic, however, that Bultmann exalts “Christian” faith over against “Jewish” faith. For example, in discussing Old Testament motifs in Judaism’s idea of faith, he writes with regard to these different “elements” of fidelity, obedience, trust, and hope, that “to the degree that it looks to the future generally, [this faith] is also belief in retribution in a more general sense.” (260) In attempting to distinguish between Judaism and the Old Testament, he writes: “As a result of the canonization of the tradition in Scripture, obedient faithfulness acquires the character of obedience to the Law. That is to say, it is no longer in the strict sense faithfulness to the experienced acts of God in history, with trust in His future acts therein.” (261) And in this instance prejudice plays a major role: the idea of inspiration of Scripture is said to limit “the work of the Spirit to the past” and restrict “God’s dealings to past history,” resulting in “a despising of the natural conditions of life.” (262) Jewish faith, “in so far as it hopes for God’s acts,” now remains oriented to miracles; trust is reduced to a “surrender to suffering,” and hope is directed to “supernatural eschatological events, and God’s judgment is . . . [thought of as] the eschatological forensic act.” (263) The whole polemic ends with the assertion that “Belief in retribution is also belief in merits,” (264) which locates the whole discussion within the context of divine grace and works.

After Bultmann has listed the various nuances of the later history of Old Testament and Jewish tradition within “general Christian usage,” he makes the following assertion: “To be distinguished from all the senses under 1. is the specifically Christian use of pistis …pistis is understood here as acceptance of the Christian kerygma. It is thus the saving faith which recognizes and appropriates God’s saving in Christ.” (265) It is also said here that the elements of “[o]bedience, trust, hope and faithfulness” are implied, but “the primary sense of pisteyein in specifically Christian usage is acceptance of the kerygma about Christ.” (266) When this kerygma is accepted, of course, confident hope is less prominent, because Christian belief “looks primarily to what God has done, not to what He will do.” (267) This, however, is all the more difficult to understand since the kerygma contains not only what God has done through Jesus, but also what God will continue to do, (268) and that implies ongoing, confident hope, because faith does not represent something finished and complete, but continually changes and draws new strength from the content of the kerygma. (269)

In my opinion, the “acceptance of the kerygma about Christ” does not exclude fidelity and is not dispensed from it. Through a public confession of faith, the believer enters into a relationship of fidelity with God, which includes a just relationship with other human beings. Infidelity toward God means at the same time mistreatment of and contempt for other people, fellow servants of God. This is clear from the parables that deal with service or care for others.

Matthew 24:45, for example, presents a faithful, good servant. (Luke 12:42 replaces pistos doulos with pistos oikonomos, but parallels it with doulos in v. 43). This servant has the duty to give his fellow servants their food (portion of grain) at the right time. The one whom the Lord sees doing this will be blessed. But a bad servant who thinks that the Lord is long in coming and begins to beat and mistreat his fellow servants, thus revealing his true character, will be punished. Because the believer has received something from God, (270) she or he pledges faith to God with the obligation to remain faithful to God and to stand in a just relationship to other human beings. In this relationship, for example, believers do not seek their own good, but what is useful for all. Both aspects, the pledge and act of fidelity toward God and a just relationship toward and among human beings, are combined in the unified “moments” of faith, including obedience to God’s order of things. If these ties are broken, the just relationship with other people is also ruptured, and vice versa. The fact that pistos, pistê includes a public confession of faith is clear, for example, from John 20:27-28. This confession, which is exclusive in the sense that it allows for and serves no other masters or mistresses, leads or can lead to persecution and martyrdom, as appears from Rev. 2:10-13. (271)

The first letter of Clement also knows and uses the word pistos to describe the union between faith and mutual human relationships. In the letter to the community at Corinth an apparent distinction is made among different “Christian community categories” (1 Clem. 48.5: “Let [one] be faithful, let [one] be capable of uttering ‘knowledge,’ let [one] be wise in judging arguments, let [one] be pure in conduct”) but this does not mean that one who believes cannot also be “pure in conduct.” In this connection, it is important to note the emphasis on the fact that all are obligated in Christ “to seek the common good in preference to [one’s] own” ( 1 Clem48.6: zêtein to koinôtheles pasin, kai mê to heautou)

Pistos with the dative appears in the New Testament, apart from Acts 16:15, only in Hebr. 3:2, where Jesus is described with this word as faithful to the one who made him. However, there is a similar use of the verb pisteyein with the dative in Acts 5:14 and 18:8.

The god-fearer Lydia, who accepted Jewish faith and thus also shared the Jewish messianic hope with other women in Philippi, believed in response to Paul’s words that her hope had been fulfilled. She confessed this Messiah and had herself and her own people baptized in his name, thus entering into a relationship of fidelity with him that excluded other masters. (272) It seems to me that it is precisely in light of and against the background of this relationship of fidelity in the context of the political situation in the Roman colony of Philippi that we should understand the information in Acts 16:15 that Lydia constrained the missionaries to come to her house and remain there.

“She Urged Us .. . and Prevailed upon Us.”
A Theological Anchor for a Praxis of Solidarity

The text concludes by noting that Lydia “prevailed upon” or “compelled” the missionaries (to stay at her house). This follows the theological judgment that she is faithful to the Lord. The expressions used in the text permit a glimpse of a turbulent situation behind the words. It appears to be transparent to the urgency of the moment and to latent conflicts. The expressions used give the impression that the situation in Philippi was not innocuous. Apparently time is pressing. A foreign working woman in a Roman colony exerts intense pressure on the missionaries to remain in her house.

The word parabiazesthai appears only one other time in the New Testament, in Luke 24:29. The disciples met the Risen One on the road to Emmaus, but did not recognize him. After they had described to this stranger the events connected with the crucifixion of Jesus, “they urged him strongly, saying, ‘Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’ So he went in to stay with them.”

These two passages should be studied more closely so that we may better understand this “urging” or “compulsion” and its possible conquences. As far as I am aware, the verb parabiazesthai is used outside the New Testament (273) primarily to describe events in which a life-threatening situation is averted, or can be avoided, or threatens to happen in the future. There can be compulsion:

1. To accept gifts or similar things:
2. After Genesis 32 has told how the relationship between Jacob and Esau was destroyed, and there is a danger of a struggle between the two groups associated with them, Gen.33:1-17 reports an encounter between the two men that turns out peacefully after all. Jacob had prepared for this meeting by taking with him gifts (“oxen, donkeys flocks, male and female slaves,” 32:5; cf. 33:8) to present to Esau in case he may find favor in his eyes. This did happen, but Esau refused to accept the gifts, saying: “I have enough, my brother; keep what you have for yourself” (33:9). Finally, Gen. 33:11 reports that Jacob successfully “urged” Esau ( patzah+b , LXX biazesthai|) to accept the gift bestowed by divine favor (berakha, LXX tas eulogias)).
3. After the prophet Elijah “ascended . . . into heaven” (2 Kgs. 2:11), his disciples went to Elisha, offering to seek Elijah on the mountains and in the valleys, where perhaps the spirit of the Lord had cast him (v. 16). Elisha refuses, and the prophet’s disciples feel compelled to urge him to give his consent or approval (v. 17:  patzah LXX parabiazesthai).
4. After Naaman the general had been healed of leprosy by Elisha, he desired to give him a gift with a blessing (berakha, LXX tas eulogias). Elisha refused. Naaman urged him (2 Kgs. 5:16: patzah + b, LXX parabiazesthai). Still, Elisha did not accept.

d.The Hebrew Bible also uses the verb ra-ah, which the LXX translates with biazesthai, in 2 Kgs. 5:23; 1 Sam. 28:23; 2 Sam. 13:25, 27, to mean “to urge someone to accept something.”

 

2. For the provision of accommodation and shelter in houses:
3. Gen. 19:1-14 describes the events that took place in Sodom before its destruction. Lot was sitting at the gateway pylê() of the city in the evening, and saw that two messengers or “angels” were entering the gate He immediately went to meet them and said: ” ‘Please, my lords, turn aside to your servant’s house and spend the night, and wash your feet. .. ‘ They said, ‘No; we will spend the night in the square.'(274) But he urged ( patzah + b, LXX katabiazesthai ) them strongly; so they turned aside to him and entered his house; and he made them a feast, and baked unleavened bread, and they ate.” The story has proceeded peacefully enough up to this point, but with v. 4 and the arrival of the “men of Sodom” begins a text of terror (275) such as we might have anticipated, especially for the women who are first mentioned at this point. The “men of Sodom” demand that Lot hand the (young) messengers over to them so that they may have sexual intercourse with them (vv. 5 and 8, with ** in 5). Lot refers to pederasty as (hifil), “acting wickedly.” He begs the “men of Sodom” not to act wickedly toward the two messengers, and offers them his two daughters as “substitutes”: “. . . do to them as you please; only do nothing to these men” (v. 8). At the end of the verse, Lot explains why he urged the messengers to lodge with him: namely, so that nothing evil should happen to them. They could have gone to the town square, but there they would have been exposed to abuse. After Lot offers to hand over his daughters, the men of the town utter threats against him and there is a brief, violent struggle between him and the assailants. In the struggle over the messengers, the “men of Sodom” also put pressure on Lot (NRSV: “they pressed hard against the man Lot,” v. 9). We can see here an important difference between the two instances of “urging” or “putting pressure on” someone: while Lot uses pressure to offer protection to the messengers, the “men of Sodom” use it as a means to snatch the messengers from that protection. Lot also gives an explanation for his urging the messengers to stay with him: “(for that reason [i.e., so that nothing evil should happen to them]) they have come under the shelter of my roof” (end of v. 8). But this means that Lot urged them because he was aware of the danger that only becomes obvious with the arrival of the “men of Sodom.”
4. In Judges 19:1-30 we find a case of pressure ( patzah + b, LXX biazesthai) put on a son-in-law by his father-in-law. The son-in-law is pursuing his concubine, who has fled to her father’s house, and the father-in-law pressures the son-in-law to spend the night there. He stays in the father-in-law’s house with his concubine for some nights, and finally starts for home. The important verses in this story, as regards pressure to the spend the night, are w. 11-26. Beginning at v. 15, the story is very similar to that in Genesis 19. It is dangerous—even for men (and especially strangers?)—to spend the night outdoors, in the “open square.” In v. 20 an old man who finds them there says: “. . . do not spend the night in the square” and takes them to his house. Then the men of the city” come and behave like the men of Sodom in Genesis 19. The old man’s offer (v. 24) is also similar to that of Lot, but with the major difference that in Judges 19 the offer is partly accepted: here the man seizes his concubine and thrusts her outside to the “men of the city,” who then rape her and go away (v. 25). The story continues with the violent consequences for the woman and others.

Here we note first of all that protecting men from pederasty and putting pressure on them in order to shield them, thus placing oneself in danger, by no means implies, in the instances cited, that a more just condition is thereby created: for the sake of protecting the men, women are (and must be) sacrificed. One sexual act cannot be replaced by another. The rape of women cannot be substituted for pederasty as if nothing had happened (Judg. 19:26-30). There can be no legitimate theological justification offered to explain such acts of violence and abuse. (276)

Second, we must also observe—and this is the crucial point as regards the investigation of the meaning of parabiazesthai in these passages—that as long as there are guests in the house, the hosts are responsible for their protection. While they are in the house, nothing must happen to them. The guests are under the protection and shelter of the host.

 

3.As a Response to Proconsular Power:

 

3. Mart. Pol. 3.2 speaks of Germanicus as someone to be imitated because of his constancy (hupomenê). In acting against the Christians, in this case against Germanicus, the proconsul hoped to persuade them to renounce Jesus Christ. To avoid this, Germanicus wished to die more swiftly, and so, when he was in the arena, he dragged the wild beasts toward himself. (277) As the crowd saw it, they shouted: “Away with the atheists! Let search be made for Polycarp!”

 

1. However, rather than Polycarp, another man appears in Martyrdom of Polycarp 4: one Quintus, a Phrygian, who “when he saw the wild beasts, [and what was happening in the arena] turned coward. He it was who had forced himself and some others to come forward of their own free will.” The proconsul persuaded this Quintus to swear the oath and offer incense, that is, to apostatize from the faith. The process seems to have been quite similar the proconsular procedures in the trials of Christians in Bithynia under the governorship of Pliny the Younger. (278)

The following reflections are in order: Quintus is described by scholars as an “apostate,” and as someone who may have been close to the later figure toof Montanus. (279) However, in my opinion, he and his actions need not be understood as though he was attempting to hasten his execution by submitting himself (and others) to judgment. It is possible that he did so out of fear, hoping to find favor and receive mercy without having to deny Jesus, for ultimately, according to the text, the proconsul had to go to great lengths to bring Quintus to his denial. It seems to me that this also reveals the hopeless situation of Christians in face of proconsular power. Those who voluntarily surrendered were judged in just the same way as those who were accused by others.

These two examples describe situations of persecution in which the victims of proconsular power were coerced or put under pressure. Without these trials and the punishment of the arena no one would have thought of urging himself or herself and others to “voluntary” surrender perhaps in the hope of pardon. The examples also show that in this context of martyrdom the issue was one of reactions to a powerful art 0f persuasion exercised by the Roman authorities.

The juxtaposition of the examples in Mart. Pol. 3.2 and 4, it seems to me, is not for the purpose of lending more luster to Germanicus in contrast to the “apostate” and “traitor” Quintus. There is no idea here of postulating and documenting a certain type of Gentile attitude by way of example. I believe that it is, instead, a portrayal of various facets of one and the same reality: the situation of persecution. The same set of circumstances can evoke different reactions. These two examples are meant to encourage people subjected to fear and despair, persecution and torture that are difficult to withstand. Christians should resist as long as possible. The advice at the end of Martyrdom of Polycarp 4, not to praise people who “voluntarily” surrender themselves, is thus not to be understood as “antinomian.” It is intended to teach others to learn from Germanicus, and to practice, in the heart of danger, persecution, and martyrdom, the virtue of hupomenê, “patient hope” or “the power of resistance.” (280) Christians should not let themselves be coerced by what are often tangible, concrete, hopeless situations to act in ways that help neither themselves nor others. They should resist as long as they have the strength. Moreover, it seems to me that those who submit under torture to things they do not otherwise say or practice are not “failures.”

The verb parabiazesthai also appears frequently outside the New Testament canon in its Latin equivalent, cogere. (281) Pliny (282) for example, writes to a friend who had “released” a freedman, or from whom the freedman had escaped, pleading with him to forget his anger and to receive his freedman back without torturing him. Pliny is severe toward the freedman, warning him to improve his behavior. To his friend, Pliny describes his intervention on behalf of the freedman as urgent pressure or coercion: “I’m afraid you will think I am using pressure, not persuasion (non rogare, sed cogere), if I add my prayers to his [i.e., those of the libertus].” It is true that this letter from Pliny the Younger is similar to Paul’s letter to Philemon, but there are important differences. For example, Paul presents himself as desmios Christou Iêsou, while Pliny is a governor in the Roman imperial service; in Philemon it is a case concerning a slave, Onesimus, that is at issue, while Sabinianus has to with an unnamed freedman. (283) Paul treats the slave Onesimus as his child (in this case, that means his manner is full of love), while Pliny is severe and threatening toward the freedman; although Paul knows that he can use his apostolic authority to order Philemon to do his duty (epitassein soi to anêkon), he restricts himself to a frequently repeated but urgent plea (parakalô). Pliny also makes a deliberate contrast between the meanings of rogare and cogere, knowing that in the future he will make other requests of his friend, while in the case of the freedman he asks only this one time. For that reason he emphasizes that in reality he is not merely making a request of his friend, but is pressuring him. He thereby indicates that, at this point, he can make use of his proconsular power and the force necessary to coerce someone in a legal matter. (284)

As another example, Cicero (285) at one point describes the oppressed situation of the population of Lampsacus, an important city in Mysia, under Cornelius Verres. In their customs and discipline, this was one of the mildest of peoples. But politically, the inhabitants were allies (socii) of the Romans. De facto, they were Roman slaves who were petitioning for self-government. The Romans’ injustices and crimes were so enormous that they forced the population to a desperate decision: perhap death would be preferable to such mistreatment. In this situation, Cicero warns those in authority not to coerce their allies and other foreign nations to seek refuge elsewhere or to withdraw (from the alliance?) to wherever they would flee in their desperation. (286) He further states that the people’s resentment against Verres could not be lessened by any means, since for his addressees also, no matter their status, the Roman laws would not serve them in opposing Verres, and consequently they could draw no hope from them. Cicero asserts: “You forced those unhappy and unfortunate beings, as if there were no hope for them in our laws and law-courts, to fall back upon force and armed violence.” (287) He thus offers us impressive examples of the way in which people oppressed by Roman officials were or could be ultimately coerced into seeking refuge, or a place of safety, where they could defend themselves against that power.

In summary, the texts show that the word parabiazesthai (cogere) is used primarily (a) for the acceptance of gifts accompanied by blessings, i.e., when someone is released from a life-threatening situation and therefore feels so obligated to give thanks that he or she brings pressure to bear to coerce the acceptance of the gift; (b) in cases when protective shelter is sought and offered, and (c) in describing the reactions of people who are subjected to proconsular trials or proconsular power. When the LXX translates the Hebrew patzah with parabiazesthai or katabiazesthai, this means that in the first century c.e. this word presents a precise description of the matter summarized here, and that it was generally understood by all.

On the basis of the textual evidence, the following conclusions can be drawn regarding this concept, which appears in the New Testament only in Luke 24:29 and Acts 16:15.

In the passages cited from Pliny and Cicero, coercion or pressure is to be seen as an act of proconsular or military power. It proceeds from people with official power within the Roman empire. In the New Testament passages, on the other hand, it comes from people who derived their power from faith, that is, from their fidelity to the crucified and risen Lord. Martyrdom of Polycarp 4 shows the negative consequences for Christians of the pressure put on the victims of judicial process by the proconsul. The pressure described by Luke has a completely different effect. While in the former instance, pressure or coercion is a means applied with the result of producing either martyrdom or apostasy from Christian faith (in order to avoid martyrdom), in Luke it serves for the protection of those concerned. In the houses of Lydia and the Emmaus disciples, those abiding there because of the pressure exerted upon them are to be provided with hospitality and protection. (288)

With the explanatory phrase “because it is almost evening,” Luke 24:29 hints at a danger similar to that in Judg. 19:1-26, but in my opinion Luke 24:29 should be read in the larger context of the scenes of crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. On the road to Emmaus, the Risen One encounters two disciples, but they do not recognize Jesus. They continue on the road together. When they reach the town, Jesus intends to go on; because he is living as a stranger in Jerusalem paroikeis Ierousalêm(, 24:18) he probably has no fixed residence in the vicinity. I find this detail, which is emphasized in the story, important: namely, that he is a stranger in the city; for this can hint that he, too, is from Nazareth and a friend and follower of the Crucified, especially since he knows a great deal about Christ and his crucifixion (24:25-27). Luise Schottroff indicates that “the Romans considered Jesus’ crucifixion a political act,” (289) and in such cases burial rites and mourning were forbidden. If people were caught carrying out such a ceremony, they would be punished. This must have been even more dangerous for Jesus’ followers than for members of the family, inasmuch as “showing any kind of behavior [e.g., burial or weeping] that would reveal one as a follower of Jesus could have been a dangerous act of solidarity that might have led to being crucified oneself.” (290) Precisely in this broader context of the crucifixion and “disappearance” of the crucified Jesus of Nazareth every stranger in the city would have appeared suspect to the Roman soldiers, who were watching everything and everyone, (291) and undoubtedly denouncing people as well. The guard was probably augmented during the night, which only enhanced the danger for those who wanted to move about freely. In order to protect the stranger they met on the road to Emmaus from these dangers, the disciples pressed him to come into their house and remain with them

.

In Lydia’s case, the pressure she applies is a sign of her solidarity. She certainly knows the conditions in the Roman colony of Philippi, and the attitude of the Roman authorities toward Jews (Acts 16:19-24). In this situation, her pressing invitation is an attempt to aid the missionaries by taking precautions for their protection. At the same time, she has to be ready to answer to the city authorities for giving them her protection. Should a conflict arise between her guests and the Roman authorities, her house would be drawn into a dangerous situation. (292) It is possible that in this case Lydia was unable to offer the protection provided by law, inasmuch as Paul (differently from the situation in Acts 17:5-9) finds it necessary to appeal to his own rights as a Roman citizen. (293) The action of Lydia and the others is to be understood, against the background here developed, as “hospitality,” (294) which included the provision of protection for her guests. To put it another way: hospitality is not abrogated when there is danger, but only at that moment proves itself to be genuine hospitality.

A hermeneutical and theological reflection is appropriate at this point. It was not only because Lydia was a Christian, and not only from the moment when she became a Christian, that she revealed her gratitude through hospitality; for Lydia is not the first in this field, nor is she the exception. As a woman who reveres God, she stands within a tradition in which non-Jewish women adhered to Judaism, practicing its way of life and also, when the situation required it, supporting and sheltering Jewish women and men in danger. Two examples appear to me to be revealing as regards this attitude, and their significance extends beyond the external characteristics of the “god-fearers”:

First, an inscription (295) found in the Jewish catacombs on the Via Nomentana in Rome upholds the memory of Julia Irene Arista, “who worshiped the power of God and kept fidelity to the sheltered seed, the Law, in a righteous way.” This god-fearing woman has kept the Law and the concept of fides, “fidelity,” appears as well. Her way of life is Jewish, and her fidelity to the Jewish God corresponds to her keeping of the Law, which is intended to create just relationships among human beings.

Second, Josephus (296) describes how the male inhabitants of Damascus behaved toward the Jewish population both before and after the defeat of the Romans. These men shut the Jews up in the gymnasium because they appeared suspicious. Moreover, the men of Damascus wanted to kill the Jews. It is only when this plan is described that the women of Damascus appear. The text continues: “yet did they [the men of Damascus] distrust their own wives, which were almost all of them addicted to the Jewish religion; on which account it was that their greatest concern was, how they might conceal these things from them.” Josephus goes on to say that then 10,500 unarmed Jews were immediately and swiftly slaughtered. This parenthetic remark about the women of Damascus is very revealing: The men kept their decision secret from the women, because they were afraid of them—and probably they were feared because they had adopted the Jewish religion. Still more, they were feared because, on account of their faith, they would have made some move in opposition to their men’s decision! Otherwise, there would be no sense in the men’s anxiety here. Moreover, the description of the wome of Damascus makes it clear that solidarity with the Jewish suspected and persecuted population was a sign of a kind of “hospitality.” It is a loss to history that Josephus reports nothing about the women’s reaction to the slaughter of the Jewish inhabitants by the men. Apparently it was a subject that did not interest him.

Lydia’s House: A “Contrast Society”
ln a Roman Colony

Lydia’s story, partly told in and reconstructed from Acts 16:13-15, is relevant for both Jews and Christians from a religious-historical point of view, but also with respect to social-political questions. A woman, Lydia, is the head of a house. Normally, the pater familias ruled over wife, children, and slaves, and the governing structure of the state—in this case, the Roman state—was anchored in this family structure. In Acts 16:13-15 we find nothing either about a pater familias or about the kind of rulership that is based on scales of subjection and that lives and survives through them because it forces other people into dependency and keeps them there, exploiting and oppressing them. (297)

Luke not only knows of this independent woman, Lydia, who provides shelter for other people in her house. He also tells of other women who house people in cases where there is no mention of a pater familias or any other man. For example, Luke 10:38 speaks of Martha, who received Jesus into her house. Luke uses here the same verb, hupodechesthai “to receive as a guest,” as in the description of Jesus’ reception by Zaccheus (Luke 19:6) and of Paul’s lodging with Jason (Acts 17:7) Luke makes no distinction among these instances, but some manuscripts do: in the case of Martha, and only there, they add an explanatory note that Martha received Jesus into her house.It is important to insist that women, independently of men, received other men into their houses. This is certainly unusual in a patriarchal society, (298) but according to Luke’s reporting it did occur. Thus in the Jesus movement, and in the beginnings of the Christian mission, there was no place for the patriarchal political governance exercised elsewhere; social compulsions to subordination were eliminated in the solidaristic praxis of the humble. (299) In these houses a place was created for women and men in which they could live by other standards, in mutual service, directing their energies to the end that no one need suffer want.

Lydia’s house became a center of Christian life in Philippi. In this house church, as in others, we may suppose that people lived according to the baptismal confession of Gal. 3:28. Thus they also were continually striving to overcome the patriarchal relationships that pervade all areas of life. Even if they did not exercise active, face-to-face confrontation with the existing order of power, they were nevertheless living a life contrary to Roman customs: a life resting not on dominance, but on koinonia, “community,” “participation,” a life in which despised and humbled people were transformed into a people in solidarity with one another, mutually encouraging one another in the faith that gives strength for endurance. (300) Because, for example, there is no longer a pater familias, there is no more patriarchal and hierarchical subordination, and all can be equal sisters and brothers. This really does lead to “a relativizing of domestic power relationships and thus of the ‘house as a social unit.” (301) To the extent that the fidelity of the early Christian house church belongs to the Jewish Lord Jesus Christ, the crucified and risen one, fidelity is withdrawn from the Lord Emperor, and his claim to lordship over all spheres of life is denied. In the last analysis, then, this is a practice of resistance. (302) This house church in Philippi can also serve as a model for a “contrast society” (303) on a small scale. Such an understanding fits within the framework of the conflicts between Paul and Silas and the imperial authorities in this Roman colony. Acts frames those events within the story of Lydia. In a society in which only dominance-minded men appear in leading political and economic roles, as is lear in Acts 16:16-39, this framing story of Lydia surrounding the events is subversive. Among its subversive features is the “fact that [in it] sexes and classes are treated as equals.” (304)

Challenges to a Feminist Interpretation
of Lydia. Summary and Outlook

The story of Lydia in Acts 16:13-15 has, throughout centuries of interpretation, received cursory treatment from theologians writing biblical-exegetical commentaries. In the process, as this chapter has shown, particular ideas about the social, economic, and religious allegiances of Lydia were passed on from commentator to commentator. When Lydia was introduced to congregations or groups outside the commentaries, it was always against this background: that is, Lydia’s image was mediated by this history of interpretation. Questions about her work, and thus about the conditions of her life, were simply not asked. I have become better acquainted with Lydia and her work through my examination of extra-biblical literary and inscriptional sources. The conditions of her life, in her own milieu, are no longer so foreign to me. Historical reconstruction has also made her community praxis and her theology clearer to me: they have taken on sharper contours. A social-historical, feminist liberation theological analysis of biblical texts can aid us to approach nearer to the theological statements to be found in a particular context, and to give precision to them.

For centuries, Lydia and her story were defined by men’s historical writing, from Luke to the latest commentators. Recently, this picture of research has begun to change. Women are taking up the task of uncovering the figures and stories of women in the Bible, and Lydia has received renewed attention. I will only review at this point the extent to which feminist theologians have concerned themselves with Lydia, and question whether and to what degree they have distanced themselves from the dominant scholarship.

Luise Schottroff (305) points out that in the dominant interpretation throughout history Lydia has been declared to be a well-to-do woman, Partly in order to affirm that the first Christian women were members of the upper middle class: “The fact that women work, and under very hard conditions at that, is rendered invisible [in the dominant exegesis]. Also, no-one takes time to ask what a woman does who sells purple fabrics.” (306) The demand for a social-historical analysis has arisen out of this state of scholarship. Thus Bernadette Brooten (307) and Luise Schottroff (308) formulate a task for feminist liberation theological exegesis: in quiring especially and minutely about women’s work and reconstruct it to the extent possible, with the aid of new sources and technique drawn from other scholarly fields. By means of this research and analysis, Schottroff, in her essay on Lydia and other studies, reveals the latent, unspoken tendencies of the dominant exegesis. She knows the power and force of this tradition of interpretation; it is made clear once again in the fact that even critical feminist theologians succumb to the dominant interpretation, especially as regards social-historical questions.

Valerie A. Abrahamsen (309) has devoted her efforts to a study of the development of and different trends in the history of Christian and non-Christian women in Philippi. Her whole project and her conclusions are good, and are instructive for future research, but it seems to me that they lack precision in some details. It is probably for that reason that Lydia appears in her work in a very unfavorable light. To begin with, she assumes that Acts 16 as a whole (the description of Paul’s missionary work in Philippi) is probably fictional. Thus, as so often occurs in the dominant exegesis, whose theses she adopts on this point, (310) she makes a direct comparison between the “genuine” Paul (or accounts of Paul) in the Pauline letters and the “ungenuine” or “less genuine” Paul of Acts. One result of this is that, for example, she contrasts Evodia and Syntyche (Phil. 4:2) with Lydia. For her—even though the story is supposed to be “fictional”—Lydia is a “domestic,” married woman (311) who was obedient to Paul, while Evodia and Syntyche, “two rival missionaries,” (312) made a lot of trouble for Paul because, it seems, both of them had more influence in Philippi than Paul. In contrast, Luke presents the “fictional” Lydia as “a devout follower of Paul, not a schismatic,” who presents no danger, but rather is a “less threatening ‘type’ of Christian woman.”

Ruth Albrecht and Franziska Müller-Rosenau (313) adopt a critical stance toward the dominant tradition of interpretation. They point out, for example, the difficulty that exegetes have, in approaching the story of Lydia, in not immediately “seeking to define women through men; this same difficulty emerges in the interpretation of the place of assembly and Lydia’s station in life (as a widow, etc.). But in the matter of social and economic questions, these authors remain captive to the conclusions of the same dominant exegesis they have criticized, and do not challenge them.

Susanne Heine devotes several pages in her book to Lydia and the god-fearers. (314) She writes about Lydia in her chapter on “Paul the Scapegoat” in which she defends Paul against feminist criticism. On the whole, her description of Lydia and the god-fearers does not differ from that in the dominant interpretations. Heine correctly proceeds on the remise that “… women in particular . . . felt particularly attracted by the Christian missionaries.” She wishes to demonstrate the reasons for this “from the formation of the community in Philippi.” On the one hand, this author, inspired by the example of the women of Damascus, asserts that, as far as the god-fearers are concerned, it was especially “pagan women” who “felt attracted by the Jewish faith and particularly by the ethical implications of the law,” because “the immense brutality of a political system” called for “an alternative.” On the other hand she continues:

“The ‘case’ of Lydia is symptomatic, for she was not the only one among the godfearers who took this course. The opening up of the Christian mission to Gentiles resulted in the surrender of many Jewish elements which were impossible for the godfearers: circumcision, the observance of ritual laws and the strict observance of the precepts of the law expounded casuistically by the Jewish scribes. Therefore women like Lydia must have found Christian faith even better and more in accord with their hopes.” (315)

 

Here it is obvious that Heine is dealing uncritically with the conclusions of scholarship about the effects and the evaluation of the “Christian” mission among the god-fearers; she offers no challenge to them. But we must point out the following: This author asserts that Christian faith must have seemed better to women. However, the issue with regard to the missionary movement in the first century was not the evaluation of religion according to a certain yardstick, but the acknowledgment of the fulfillment of Jewish messianic hopes. The author offers no critical comment either on the commentators’ shared ideas about the proseuchê or on their routine estimation of Lydia’s socioeconomic status. According her, women were gathered together for prayer, and the well-to-do Lydia was among them. Heine’s understanding of the text is, in large measure, a repetition of the dominant consensus.

1 have inquired about Lydia’s work and her conditions of life because, in my opinion, they are critical significance for her religious life. Social-historical examination of a text has theological relevance to the extent that it seeks to illuminate what theological statement or praxis can be found in it, for whom, and in what historical situation Therefore it is of fundamental importance to approach the situations in which faith experiences have been and are being lived, and to pay closer attention to the people who have acquired and are acquiring particular theological insights. (316) In this way, we can get closer to the people themselves. Thus work with biblical texts can also support and encourage women and men today in their efforts toward more just, non-patriarchal relationships. The story of Lydia can and does give us strength, for it, too, tells us of a woman whose power came to expression in her relationship to God and to other women and men. This implies the construction of conditions that, within the house church also, are founded not on hierarchical relationships, but on the leadership of equals. (317)

Passages to Be Investigated

To begin with, I will list all the passages in which women are explicitly mentioned. These are:

1:14 which mentions that women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, were part of the Jerusalem church from the beginning;

2:17-18 a quotation from Joel 2:28-32, in which women appear as actors;

5:1-11 the story of Sapphira in the literary and ecclesiological context of the first Jewish Christian community at Jerusalem;

5:14 women are explicitly mentioned in the context of the church’s growth;

6: 1 the report that Hellenist widows are being neglected in the daily diakonia;

8:3  the statement that men and women were persecuted by Saul

8:12 the statement that men and women were converted;

8:27 the Candace, queen of Ethiopia, is mentioned;

9:2  the report of Paul’s plan to imprison Christian men and women in Damascus;

9:36-43 the story of the disciple Tabitha;

12:12-19 the story of the house of Mary, the mother of John Mark, in Jerusalem;

13:50 mentioning noble, godfearing women in Antioch who are stirred up against Paul and Silas by the Jewish authorities;

16:1 the allusion to a believing Jewish woman, the mother of Timothy;

16:13-15, 40 the story of Lydia;

16:16-18 the story of the slave with the Pythian spirit;

17:4 mentioning important women in Thessalonica who were converted to Christ;

17:12 mentioning noble, godfearing women in Beroea who were converted to Christ;

17:34 the report of the philosopher Damaris in Athens, who was converted to Christ;

18:1-3, 18-19, 24-28 the story of Priscilla;

19: .Leomar Pydd,”Ananias,” 3, rightly emphasises that we resemble Sapphira and Ananias rather than Barnabas in dealing with material possessions.

21: 5-6 the report that women and children also took leave of Paul in Tyre;

21:9 the story of the women prophets in Caesarea;

22:4 Paul recalls that he persecuted Christian men and women;

23:16 the report that Paul had a sister;

24:24 the mention of Drusilla, the wife of Felix, the governor25:13, 23; 26:30 mentioning Bernice, the wife of King Agrippa.

In making such a list we are struck by the fact that the majority of passages concerning women report that they were converted to Christ. It is equally striking that the women mentioned toward the end were not converted. In the report of Paul’s last journey, when he comes in contact with the kings and queens of the earth, there are no more conversions (unlike what we would expect from Acts 9:15). Only in 5:1-11; 9:36-43; 16:13-15, 40; and 18:1-3, 18-19, 24-28 do we receive detailed information about women who converted to Christianity. These texts will be investigated first in detail, each in a separate chapter.