Hearing Luke's Parables Through the Socio-Economic Contexts of His Audience Members

Hearing Luke’s Parables through the Socio-Economic Contexts of His Audience Members

A thesis submitted to the University of Manchester for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Faculty of Humanities

2019

SAMUEL J ROGERS

SCHOOL OF ARTS, LANGUAGES AND CULTURES

Table of Contents

List of Tables ...... 6 Abbreviations ...... 7 Abstract ...... 9 Declaration ...... 10 Copyright Statement ...... 11 Acknowledgements ...... 12 Chapter 1: Introduction and Preliminary Discussions ...... 13 1.1 Introduction ...... 13 1.2 Definition of Socio-Economic ...... 16 1.3 Introduction to Impact of Previous Methodologies ...... 16 1.4 Analyzing Jesus in His Socio-Economic Contexts ...... 17 1.4.1 Joachim Jeremias: Historical-Critical Analysis of Economics ...... 17 1.4.2 Douglas Oakman: Socio-Scientific Analysis ...... 20 1.5 Analyzing Socio-Economic Data in GLk in Light of Luke’s Audience ...... 23 1.5.1 Lillian Portefaix: Socio-Economic Profiling in Philippi ...... 23 1.5.2 Philip Esler: Social-Scientific and Socio-Economic Profiling in the Greek East ...... 24 1.6. Analyzing the Ethics of Economic Data ...... 27 1.6.1 Christopher Hays: Ethics of Socio-Economic Data in GLk ...... 27 1.6.2 David Balch: Ethics of Socio-Economic Data in Greco-Roman Society ...... 30 1.7 A Way Forward: Socio-Economic Profiling Using Economic Scaling ...... 34 1.7.1 Economic Scaling in NT Scholarship ...... 34 1.7.2 Economic Statuses during the First-Century ...... 36 1.7.3 Conclusion: Improved Socio-Economic Profiling through Behaviors and Possessions ...... 38 1.8 Prolegomena: Preliminary Issues Regarding the GLk ...... 38 1.8.1 Authorship ...... 38 1.8.2 Bios and Biographical Historiography as Genre ...... 39 1.8.3 Date, Origin, and Provenance ...... 41 1.8.4 Luke’s Purposes and Audience Conflation ...... 43 1.8.5 Luke’s Expected Audience: First-Century Christ-Groups ...... 46 1.9 Project Delimitations ...... 47 1.10 Summary and Conclusion ...... 47 Chapter 2: Methodology ...... 50 2.1 Theoretical Foundations for Separating Audiences of Luke-Acts ...... 50 2.1.1 The Historical/Original Audience ...... 51 2.1.2 The Intended Audience ...... 52

2.1.3 The Narrative Audience ...... 53 2.1.4 The Expected Audience ...... 54 2.1.5 Summary and Conclusion ...... 55 2.2 Constructing Socio-Economic Profiles: Types of Evidence ...... 55 2.2.1 Privileging the Evidence of Material Culture ...... 55 2.2.2 Using the Evidence of Acts for Character Profiles ...... 56 2.2.3 Calculating Possessions and Behaviors: Diocletian’s Price Edict ...... 56 2.3 Socio-Economic Profiling of the Christ-Group Member’s Environment ...... 58 2.3.1 Socio-Economic and Socio-Spatial Dimensions of Christ-Group Meetings .. 58 2.3.2 Socio-Economic Contexts of Domestic Spaces in the Greek East ...... 59 2.3.3 Profiling of Cultic Contexts of the Christ-Group Members ...... 64 2.3.3.1 Knowledge of Primary Jewish Evidence ...... 65 2.3.3.2 Knowledge of Non-Jewish Cults ...... 66 2.4 Parables as Ethical Teachings ...... 68 2.5 Summary and Conclusion ...... 69 Chapter 3: Socio-Economic Profiles of Expected Audience Members ...... 70 3.1 Wealthy (ES4) Prominent Macedonian Woman ...... 71 3.1.1 Five Examples of Πρώτη Γυναικῶν ...... 72 3.2 Middling (ES5) Ephesian Artisan ...... 77 3.3 Poor (ES6) Enslaved Corinthian ...... 81 3.4 Summary and Conclusion ...... 85 Chapter 4: Socio-Economic Profiles of Characters in Luke’s Parables ...... 87 4.1 The Good Samaritan (10:25-37) ...... 87 4.1.1 Socio-Economic Profiling: Behaviors ...... 87 4.1.1.1 Stopping at an Inn: Cost of Meals and Accommodation ...... 87 4.1.2 Socio-Economic Profiling: Possessions ...... 92 4.1.2.1 Beasts of the Middling Class: The Samaritan’s κτῆνος as Donkey ..... 92 4.1.3 Conclusion: Samaritan as ES5 ...... 97 4.2 The Prodigal Son (15:11-32) ...... 98 4.2.1 Socio-Economic Profiling: Behaviors ...... 98 4.2.1.1 Inheritance and Land: Measuring Wealth in Land Ownership ...... 99 4.2.2. Socio-Economic Profiling: Possessions ...... 103 4.2.2.1 Sandals: Footwear in the First-Century ...... 104 4.2.2.2 Cloaks and Banquet Clothing: Στολή as Pallium ...... 108 4.2.2.2.1 Who wore Στολή? ...... 109 4.2.2.2.2 Interpretative Options for The Prodigal’s Στολή ...... 111 4.2.2.2.3 Specific Clothing for Banquets ...... 112 4.2.2.3 Rings: Socio-Economic Markers for the Wealthy ...... 114 4.2.3 Conclusion: The Prodigal’s Family as ES4+ ...... 117 4.3 The Clever Steward (16:1-8) ...... 118 4.3.1 Socio-Economic Profiling: Behaviors ...... 118 4.3.1.1 Stewards: Oἰκονόμος as Dispensator ...... 119 4.3.2 Socio-Economic Profiling: Possessions ...... 123 3

4.3.2.1 Grain and Oil: Determining Measures and Weights ...... 123 4.3.2.2 Loans and Debts: Large Loans and Payments of Taxes with Crops ... 127 4.3.3 Conclusion: Steward as ES4+ ...... 129 4.4 Dives and Lazarus (16:19-31) ...... 130 4.4.1 Socio-Economic Profiling: Behaviors ...... 130 4.4.1.1 Splendid Feasts ...... 131 4.4.2 Socio-Economic Profiling: Possessions ...... 133 4.4.2.1 Dives’ Purple Clothing ...... 133 4.4.2.2 Dives’ Gate ...... 135 4.4.3 Conclusion: Dives as ES3+, Lazarus as ES7 ...... 137 4.5 Pharisee and Tax Collector (18:9-14) ...... 138 4.5.1 Socio-Economic Profiling: Behaviors ...... 138 4.5.1.1 Collecting Taxes ...... 138 4.5.1.2 Conclusion ...... 142 4.5.2 Socio-Economic Profiling: Possessions ...... 143 4.5.3 Conclusion: Tax Collector as ES4b, Pharisee as ES5 ...... 143 4.6 Summary of Socio-Economic Markers for Luke’s Expected Audience ...... 145 4.7 Summary and Conclusion ...... 146 Chapter 5: Reading Luke’s Parables Through the Socio-Economic Profiles of Characters and Audience Members ...... 148 5.1 The Good Samaritan (10:25-37) ...... 148 5.1.1 Wealthy Macedonian Woman ...... 149 5.1.2 Middling Ephesian Artisan ...... 152 5.1.3 Poor Enslaved Corinthian ...... 154 5.1.4 Conclusion ...... 156 5.2 The Prodigal Son (Lk 15:11-32) ...... 158 5.2.1 Wealthy Macedonian Woman ...... 159 5.2.2 Middling Ephesian Artisan ...... 162 5.2.3 Poor Enslaved Corinthian ...... 163 5.2.4 Conclusion ...... 164 5.3 The Clever Steward (16:1-8) ...... 166 5.3.1 Wealthy Macedonian Woman ...... 166 5.3.2 Middling Ephesian Artisan ...... 172 5.3.3 Poor Enslaved Corinthian ...... 173 5.3.4 Conclusion ...... 176 5.4 Dives and Lazarus (16:19-31) ...... 177 5.4.1 Wealthy Macedonian Woman ...... 179 5.4.2 Middling Ephesian Artisan ...... 181 5.4.3 Poor Enslaved Corinthian ...... 183 5.4.4 Conclusion ...... 184 5.5 Pharisee and Tax Collector (18:9-14) ...... 185 5.5.1 Wealthy Macedonian Woman ...... 186 5.5.2 Middling Ephesian Artisan ...... 189 5.5.3 Poor Enslaved Corinthian ...... 191

5.5.4 Conclusion ...... 193 Chapter 6: Summary and Conclusion ...... 195 6.1 Summary of Study ...... 195 6.2 Future Avenues of Research ...... 200 Bibliography ...... 202

Word count: 79,905

List of Tables

Table 1. Longenecker's Economy Scales and Description of Potential Number of Christ- group Members...... 37 Table 2. Socio-Economic Markers in the Good Samaritan...... 98 Table 3. Summary of Proposed Land Holdings for Prodigal Son’s Family ...... 102 Table 4. Socio-Economic Markers in the Prodigal Son ...... 118 Table 5. Summary of Measurements and Prices for Oil and Grain Calculations. Liquid Measure Indicated with *...... 126 Table 6. Socio-Economic Markers in the Clever Steward...... 130 Table 7. Possible Menu for Dives’ Feasts ...... 132 Table 8. Socio-Economic Markers in Dives and Lazarus...... 137 Table 9. Socio-Economic Markers in Pharisee and Tax Collector ...... 143 Table 10. Summary of Economic Findings for Main Characters...... 146 Table 11. Summary of Economic Status of Audience Members and Narrative Members...... 148

Abbreviations

All abbreviations of ancient literature, academic journals, and monograph series follow the forms indicated in the SBL Handbook of Style (2nd edition; Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014) with the following exceptions noted below. Abbreviations of epigraphy follow R. Ascough, P. Harland, and Kloppenborg, Associations in the Greco-Roman World which available online at http://philipharland.com/greco-roman-associations/welcome/how-to-use-the-inscriptions- database/#abbrev.

AGRW R. Ascough, P. Harland, and J. Kloppenborg. Associations in the Greco-Roman World. Waco: Baylor University Press, 2012.

Apollodorus Lib. Library

Appian C.W. Civil Wars R.H. Roman History

AWE Ancient West & East

Babrius Fab. Perry, B. Babrius and Phaedrus. LCL. Cambridge: Harvard, 1965.

BNP Brill’s New Pauly: Encyclopaedia of the Ancient World: Antiquity. Edited by H. Cancik. 22 vols. Leiden: Brill, 2002- 2011.

DGE Diccionario Griego-Español. 7 volumes. Edited by F.R. Adrados, et al. Madrid, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas. 1980-. Cited entries refer to the online database found online at http://dge.cchs.csic.es/xdge/.

Dio Chrysostom Disc. Discourses

EAH Encyclopedia of Ancient History. Edited by Roger Bagnall, et al. 13 volumes. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012.

Eusebius H.E. Ecclesiastical History

Epictetus Disc. Discourses

FCS Food, Culture & Society

FHist Food & History

IvE Engelmann, H., H. Wankel, and R. Merkelbach. Die Inschriften von Ephesos. IGSK 11-17. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt, 1979-1984.

JJMJS Journal of the Jesus Movement in its Jewish Setting

PHI Packard Humanities Institute numbers for Greek inscriptions available online at http://epigraphy.packhum.org/.

Polybius Hist. Histories

Ps.-Clem. Rec. Homilies Recognitions

Theognis Theogn. Elegiac Poems.

TAPhS Transactions of the American Philosophical Society

UPaLRev University of Pennsylvania Law Review

Abstract

This thesis addresses the question of how first-century audience members of different socio- economic statuses would have understood the parables of the Good Samaritan (10:25-37), Prodigal Son (15:11-32), Clever Steward (16:1-8), Dives and Lazarus (16:19-31), and the Pharisee and the Tax Collector (18:9-14) in light of the socio-economic markers present in the text. In approaching the socio-economic data in Luke’s Gospel, previous scholars have utilized comparative material or methodologies that may not have relevance for Luke’s audience including elite or late rabbinic literature, class analysis, economic lexemes, and a focus on sectarian conflict. As a different means of approach, this thesis introduces socio- economic profiling as a fresh method to gauge markers of socio-economic status in the first- century. Socio-economic profiling utilizes behaviors and possessions as markers of economic status and moves away from both a lexically focused analysis and caloric intake types of profiling. The socio-economic profiling in this project analyzes characters in the above parables and finds positive characters ranging from ES3 (‘very wealthy’) to ES5 (‘middling’) on Longenecker’s economy scale. This project reads these findings through the lens of three Christ-group members with different economic statuses likely to have been present in the first-century Christ-groups: a wealthy Macedonian woman (ES4), an Ephesian artisan (ES5), and a Corinthian slave (ES6). This method improves on previous scholarship by privileging non-elite and material evidence within the urban centers of Corinth, Ephesus, and Thessaloniki where Luke’s audience would have lived. Possible first-century interpretations of the socio-economic data are contextualized in the different interactions and responsibilities stemming from these character’s understandings of the text.

By reading five uniquely Lukan parables through the lens of different socio-economic profiles and socio-economic markers in the parables, this thesis demonstrates that Luke contains positive characters with surplus wealth and corrects previous scholarship’s tendency to limit analysis to rich and poor lexemes in Luke. This project also concludes that Christ-group members of different socio-economic statuses are responsible for using their money to care for others in and outside the Christ-group. When interpreted from the perspective of Luke’s audience members, this care of neighbor fulfills the Jewish law and grants eternal life.

Declaration

No portion of the work referred to in the thesis has been submitted in support of an application for another degree or qualification of this or any other university or other institute of learning.

Copyright Statement i. The author of this thesis (including any appendices and/or schedules to this thesis) owns certain copyright or related rights in it (the “Copyright”) and s/he has given The University of Manchester certain rights to use such Copyright, including for administrative purposes. ii. Copies of this thesis, either in full or in extracts and whether in hard or electronic copy, may be made only in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (as amended) and regulations issued under it or, where appropriate, in accordance with licensing agreements which the University has from time to time. This page must form part of any such copies made. iii. The ownership of certain Copyright, patents, designs, trademarks and other intellectual property (the “Intellectual Property”) and any reproductions of copyright works in the thesis, for example graphs and tables (“Reproductions”), which may be described in this thesis, may not be owned by the author and may be owned by third parties. Such Intellectual Property and Reproductions cannot and must not be made available for use without the prior written permission of the owner(s) of the relevant Intellectual Property and/or Reproductions. iv. Further information on the conditions under which disclosure, publication and commercialisation of this thesis, the Copyright and any Intellectual Property and/or Reproductions described in it may take place is available in the University IP Policy (see http://documents.manchester.ac.uk/DocuInfo.aspx?DocID=24420), in any relevant Thesis restriction declarations deposited in the University Library, The University Library’s regulations (see http://www.library.manchester.ac.uk/about/regulations/) and in The University’s policy on Presentation of Theses.

Acknowledgements

The journey from my rural, working class Arkansan home to a doctoral studies program at a Russell group institute has been difficult and rewarding. As the first-generation to complete university studies in my family (never mind graduate and postgraduate studies), the journey through academia was at times ostracizing and confusing. Those acknowledged below have all contributed to the completion of this project in ways small and large, wittingly or not.

First, I must give my thanks to the University of Manchester, specifically the Religions and Theology department, for granting to me the Wellington Scholarship for the first three years of my program without which I would not have attempted doctoral studies.

Gratitude must be given towards my supervisor, Prof Peter Oakes, whose belief in me exceeded my own and whose intellectual prodding was always matched by his encouragement. Prof Oakes’ feedback is always hugely insightful and challenging, but his personable character and constant encouragement kept this project alive. His concern for my personal well-being was an oasis in the unforgivingly constant demands for results. My co- supervisor, Dr Todd Klutz too, must also be recognized for his personal and professional encouragement during my project. I always looked forward to the long discussions of Luke- Acts peppered with the latest basketball news. Both supervisors were constantly and genuinely invested in my life and my family, the cumulative positive effect from which cannot be overstated. Thanks too to Dr Holly Morse. As a TA on her Eve module, I was able to absorb many helpful concepts and ideas which directly improved this thesis. Her supervision and encouragement during my first semesters of teaching was always helpful, generous, and kind. The support from Prof George Brooke too has been very helpful to my project, always boosting my confidence whilst delivering incisive critiques. The external and internal advisors for this project, Dr Sean Adams and Dr Andy Boakye, must also be thanked for their helpful feedback and guidance.

The PhD student cohort at the University of Manchester too must be thanked. When I was flailing about as a new PhD student who had never been in the UK before “Welcome Week”, David Harvey, Jessica Keady, Katharina Keim, Kimberley Fowler, Yoonjong Kim, Rosie Jackson, and Benedict Kent took me under their wings. Each gave up their valuable time to guide me, explain what is or isn’t normal and to be expected, and assure me that one day I would finish. Alex Potts, Justin Daneshmand, David Bell, Siobhán Jolley, Anna and Dom Budhi were equally responsible for the success of this project through their friendships, long conversations, and banter. Researching alongside each of you has been a monumental privilege. I also thank my colleagues met through BNTC, SBL, JGU-Mainz, and ISBL. I cherish all your friendships.

Thanks must also go towards my parents and brothers for their continued encouragement and support. The tastes of home in the care packages and Christmas gifts pushed me to finish sooner rather than later. Finally, I must express my immeasurable thanks and deepest love for my wife, Katie, whose support, encouragement, and intellect carried me through this project. Without her, this project would not be possible. Dissertations can be incredibly lonely and thankless, but her friendship and encouragement filled me with boundless joy and love.

Chapter 1: Introduction and Preliminary Discussions

How could we still read first-century Christian texts as though they were addressed to generalities such as ‘gentile’ Christians? Life was full of many, varied people, then as now. Surely these texts were written for such people rather than for the somewhat abstract entities that inhabit the pages of most academic books?1

1.1 Introduction

Since an initial audience heard the Gospel of Luke (henceforth GLk), the socio-economic teachings have challenged readers to use their money to care for others. The questions central to any socio-economic discussions revolve around the questions: what socio-economic status is described in the text, how do these different statuses use their wealth,2 and how should those who hear GLk act in response? In other words, what does the socio-economic data in GLk have to say to a first-century audience of varied socio-economic statuses?

Two somewhat overlapping methods are generally employed to answer the above questions. First, one focuses on the explicit lexemes which characterize a character as rich or poor. After determining how GLk characterizes the categories of “rich” and “poor”, various conclusions are then made about the “rich” and “poor” in Luke’s audiences. In other words, these character types describe some historical referent either behind or beyond the GLk. Key in this methodology is the limiting factor of the text: the language of the GLk determines where one goes to dig up evidence. Second, one can focus on socio-economic aspects of the world in which the characters of Luke-Acts reside. This type of method tends to focus on the social structures found in the ancient Mediterranean which is then brought to bear on the GLk. In other words, the historical evidence determines how one sees the lexical data of the text. The socio-economic structure one chooses as a methodology determines the type of relationships one sees in GLk and its audiences.

Both approaches tend to yield similar results regardless of the method employed. Recent analyses of the socio-economic structures of the ancient Mediterranean do not consider recent advances in NT socio-economic scholarship. Within the literary characteristics,

1 P. Oakes, Reading Romans in Pompeii (London: SPCK, 2009), xi. 2 Wealth, as used in this project, refers to items with monetary value including coins but also land, domestic space, food, drink, and other belongings. 13

scholars focus on different words for ‘rich’ and ‘poor’, often inferring Luke’s wealth ethics largely from these lexemes. Scholars will then apply those findings to different audiences located behind, within, and beyond the GLk. The key reason these methods struggle to provide nuance is that they focus only on Luke’s explicit economic lexemes like πλούσιος and πτωχός. In other words, the methodology produced similar results because the dataset itself is limited.

Interpreters interested in socio-economic data also tend to read GLk from the perspective of different audiences which are explored below. Descriptions of the audience receiving GLk remains vague and unhelpful. For example, scholarship agrees that the GLk was written to gentiles and Jews, to non-elite with some wealth and to those with none. Because of the difficulty in narrowing down these categories from the information in GLk, most scholars prefer to leave Luke’s audience in these vague terms. Yet these descriptions encompass most people in the Roman Empire, leaving Luke’s audience as exegetically ethereal figures representing real persons to whom Luke writes. P. Oakes’ criticism of Pauline studies maps directly and perhaps even more forcefully onto the current landscape of Lukan research.

This project seeks to retool the way in which Lukan scholarship handles socio-economic evidence of the text and the ancient Mediterranean and reorient the perspective from which the gathered evidence is approached. To accomplish this goal, socio-economic data in the GLk is considered from the perspective of audience members with varied socio-economic statuses. This project aims to demonstrate that any sort of wealth ethics, or indeed socio- economic analyses of GLk, must consider in greater detail an audience whom Luke expected to read his work.

Viewing socio-economic data from the perspective of wealthy, middling, and impoverished audience members will yield historically localized interpretations of GLk’s parables. First, GLk demonstrates that use of money, particularly care of neighbor, fulfills the Jewish law. When viewed from the audience’s perspective rather than possible authorial intention, this project argues that GLk instructs those with little previous connection to Judaism to fulfill this socio-economic demand of the Torah through Jesus’ teachings. Second, GLk neither condemns every wealthy person nor accepts every poor person. GLk presents a more varied picture of wealth ethics than scholarship has discussed. Third, each economic status must

use their money to care for their neighbors because care of neighbor fulfills the Jewish law and grants eternal life. Luke’s wealth ethics have long been recognized as challenging for the wealthy, but the poor’s responsibility to care for their neighbor may have been more challenging in some cases. Fourth, wealthy, middling, or poor persons would be challenged by the socio-economic thrusts of GLk’s parables. Each socio-economic status can follow the examples of characters who are poorer or richer than they are. Finally, texts which do not contain economic lexemes may still have socio-economic impact for a first-century audience and can be evaluated as such.

This project’s methodology creates socio-economic profiles of narrative characters and an expected audience and describes the interaction between the different socio-economic profiles within the text. The method seeks to utilize the best aspects of both approaches to understand Luke’s economic characterizations of parables from the perspective of a historically located audience. In other words, this project seeks to move between the world of the text and the world of the audience, highlighting especially the difference in socio- economic status in both the text and the audience. The methodology will also contribute additional knowledge to the field of Lukan scholarship. First, audiences that are behind, within, and beyond the text are separated to understand better the first-century Christ- groups reading GLk.3 Separating audiences will allow the text to be viewed from the expected audience, a category which lies beyond the text. Second, the method brings Lukan scholarship into modern scholarship on socio-economic statuses by utilizing economic scaling. Third, it does not use subsistence as a measure of economic status. Rather, possessions and behaviors are used as better socio-economic markers. This has the benefit of moving away from the “rich” and “poor” lexemes. How these markers fit into the socio- economic structures within the audience’s daily life, including domestic space, patronage, and exploitation, will also be considered.

3 “Christ-group” is used to designate a group of Jesus followers whose meetings and members can be subsumed under the broad category of “voluntary association.” Cf. R. Ascough, “What Are They Now Saying about Christ Groups and Associations?” CurBR 13 (2015): 207-44. 15

1.2 Definition of Socio-Economic

By way of a preliminary comment on the language in this project, we must note that we use the term “socio-economic” to describing a system in which the economic abilities of an individual contain social consequences. This project argues neither that economic status itself creates social status nor that an ancient “class” existed. However, more evidence than the amount of money in one’s pocket will be considered to determine conclusions. Economic systems determine how one can get money, use money, or be used to gain money which all have different social connotations. Participating in such systems can be willing, like choosing to be a patron, or unwilling, like being enslaved. The expected audience members will tease out some aspects of these systems, particularly aspects that limit one’s agency.4 For this project, socio-economic status represents an amount of money and social rank one has in relation to these social and economic systems.5

1.3 Introduction to Impact of Previous Methodologies

Because scholarship has long recognized socio-economic details within GLk, we selected three categories most relevant to this project: socio-economic analysis of the text of GLk, the socio-economic analysis of the audiences of GLk, and the ethics of the socio-economic data. Within these categories, we summarized and critiqued two representative scholars with different approaches.

The key questions for this project, and as such for its history of scholarship, focus on the type of evidence one should consider, the type of methodologies one should employ, and how one would read such conclusions. Focus will be limited to examples of key scholars’ works are below but note that commentators with whom this project interacts rely on these scholars for a variety of approaches. Specific instances of reliance are referenced in chapters 3 and 4.

4 Cf. K. Bain, Women’s Socioeconomic Status and Religious Leadership in Asia Minor (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), 39-52. 5 This project does not attempt to define a system of economic exchange. For that and other such approaches, see P. Oakes, “Methodological Issues in Using Economic Evidence in Interpretation of Early Christian Texts,” in Engaging Economics, ed. B. Longenecker and K. Liebengood (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 9-34. 16

1.4 Analyzing Jesus in His Socio-Economic Contexts

1.4.1 Joachim Jeremias: Historical-Critical Analysis of Economics

J. Jeremias uses a historical-critical method to draw conclusions about how the Galilean economy functioned during Jesus’ lifetime. Using rabbinic evidence, Jeremias also makes claims about the social and economic structure of Jerusalemite society in the first-century. Key to his approach is the recovery of historical elements within first-century Galilee to drive conclusions about the historical Jesus. For Jeremias, the interactions between historical Jesus and the other Jews of his day must be framed in accordance to socio-economic status and power dynamics. Though its usefulness has been questioned from a variety of angles of the years, the heavily revised third-edition of Jerusalem zur Zeit Jesu remains a readily referenced work among Lukan scholars.6 As an example of its impact, only one of the 16 major commentaries on GLk utilized for this project does not cite Jerusalem in the Time of Jesus.7

In Jerusalem, Jeremias sets out to detail a social and historical sketch of first-century Jerusalem. After setting out a brief sketch of trade, commerce, and guilds in Jerusalem, he turns to describe economic status within the city under the headings “the Rich,” “the Middle Class,” and “the Poor.” Jeremias does not define in material terms how to categorize persons into these categories. The obvious decisions like defining Herod as rich and beggars as poor

6 The standard English translation, Jerusalem in the Time of Jesus, trans. C.H. Cave and F.C. Cave (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1969), is a translation of the final 1962 revision in German. A key summary of critique from the perspective of Jeremias’ use of rabbinic sources can be found in J. Neusner’s review in JAAR 39 (1971), 201-03 and E.P. Sanders, Judaism (London: SCM, 1992), 460-63 which focuses on economics. 7 Not cited in J. Ernst, Das Evangelium nach Luke (RNT; Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet, 1993). Note that L.T. Johnson, Luke (SP; Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1991) offers an extremely limited biography, referring readers to J. Fitzmyer’s bibliography which includes the work. A. Plummer, Luke (ICC 3; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1922) appears too early. Cited in I.H. Marshall, The Gospel of Luke (NIGTC 3; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978); J. Fitzmyer, The Gospel According to Luke (2 vols; AB 28A-B; New York: Doubleday, 1981-85); W. Wiefel, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (ThHNT 3; Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1988); J. Nolland, Luke (3 vols; WBC 35A-C; Dallas: Word, 1989-93); H. Schürmann, Das Lukasevangelium (2 vols. HThKNT 3; Freiburg: Herder, 1990-94); J. Green, The Gospel of Luke (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997); F. Bovon, Luke (3 vols; Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002-13); W. Radl, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (Freiburg: Herder, 2003); W. Eckey, Das Lukasevangelium (2 vols; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2004-06); H. Klein, Das Lukasevangelium (KEKNT 1; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006); M. Wolter, Das Lukasevangelium (HNT; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008) and the updated English translation The Gospel according to Luke, trans. W. Coppins and C. Heilig (2 vols; Waco: Baylor University Press, 2016-17); J. Edwards, The Gospel According to Luke (PNTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015); M. Parsons, Luke (Paideia; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2015); A.J. Levine and B. Witherington III, The Gospel of Luke (NCBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018). 17

are marred by unexplained categorizations. For Jeremias, all merchants are “rich,” because they import goods whereas “retail traders” were “middle class.” Craftsmen who “owned their own premises,” presumably making them householders rather than tenants, also belong to the middle class.8 He argues that the middle class “did best for themselves when they were connected with the Temple and its pilgrims,” pointing out that tourism, and especially pilgrimage, were the main sources of income to “the catering trades” which are also considered “middle class.”9 In the section on the “poor,” Jeremias describes slaves, day laborers, and scribes. Jeremias states that day laborers were “much more numerous than slaves” with no argument on why that is the case. Insofar as his discussion on social status, which is separate from economic status, he focuses only on cult leaders, with the high priest having the highest social status in Jerusalem.10

Such descriptions are vague or rest on certain assumptions which we will explore below. Jeremias’ work is a treasure trove of occasionally pertinent citations from key Jewish texts, but Jerusalem contains flawed methodology and datasets. We have limited ourselves to three key critiques which will shape the remainder of our discussion of Lukan scholarship. His uncritical reliance on rabbinic sources is well-known, so we focus here on the socio-economic implications of the critiques below. Because Jeremias does not make a value judgment of the rich and poor as characterized in GLk, we will focus on his historical reconstruction.

First, Jeremias relies almost entirely upon literary sources which skews his conclusions about socio-economic status.11 Importantly, he does not consider how the elite perspective of the author of the text might influence the portrayal of non-elite persons. In his list of “despised trades,” Jeremias lists among other trades herdsmen and tax-collectors as the most despised trades in first-century Jerusalem. For Jeremias, herdsmen are despised because “as proved by experience, most of the time they were dishonest and thieving,” whilst tax-collectors were so hated they were “officially deprived of rights and ostracized.”12 These trades, if we can call tax collection a trade, were neither socially nor economically similar. Herdsmen were very often slaves of the wealthy landowners, but even the free herdsmen could vary in their non-

8 Jeremias, Jerusalem, 100. 9 Ibid., 100, 102. 10 Ibid., 148. 11 See esp. Z. Safrai, The Economy of Roman Palestine (London: Routledge, 1994), 2-8. Perhaps telling, Safrai does not cite any works of Jeremias. 12 Jeremias, Jerusalem, 305, 311 respectively. 18

elite socio-economic status depending on flock size, farm size, type of animal(s), and location.13 Rural slaves were among the most despised by the social elites because they were property and worked with their hands. The shopkeepers were despised because shopkeepers were associated with “forms of labour synonymous with the workshop.”14 Again, those in higher socio-economic status, especially those approaching elite status, displayed this attitude towards those lower in socio-economic status; this is not the same as concluding that all Judeans having this attitude.

Second, Jeremias builds the wrong kind of lens through which he views life in the first- century by omitting key data for his project. He makes three choices that limit his interpretative options substantially. First, he did not engage with scholarship which analyzed the Greco-Roman influences within first-century Jewish life and thought.15 As scholars have routinely noted, socio-economic status and economic exchanges in Judea were shaped by years of living under different empires, and life in first-century Judea cannot be analyzed without an eye to larger Greco-Roman societal structures.16 Second, he did not engage with literature about economics within the Roman empire.17 Jeremias dedicates the first two sections of his work (“Economic Conditions” and “Economic Status”) to describe the intersection of work, trade, income, economic status, and cultic affiliation. For example, when describing slave labor, Jeremias writes, “The impression we get from rabbinic and New Testament evidence, and from Egyptian papyri, is that slave ownership played no great part in the rural economy.”18 Jeremias refers here to rabbinic sayings on slavery generally, but

13 Appian, C.W. 1.7 of the rich exploiting day laborers by “using slaves as laborers and herdsmen, lest free laborers should be drawn from agriculture into the army.” Varro, Rust. 2.10.6 speaks of the “breeding of herdsmen” directly after his discussion of breeding mules and dogs. 14 Safrai, Economy, 126-28. 15 E.g., S. Liebermann, Greek in Jewish Palestine (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1942) and Hellenism in Jewish Palestine (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1950). Cf. C. Hezser, “The Graeco-Roman Context of Jewish Daily Life in Roman Palestine” in C. Hezser, ed., Oxford Handbook of Jewish Daily Life (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 28-47. 16 Since at least M. Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism, trans. J. Bowden (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1974). See discussions stemming from Hengel in T. Rajak, The Jewish Dialogue with Greece and Rome (Leiden: Brill, 2002); P. van der Horst, Jews and Christians in their Graeco-Roman Context (WUNT 196; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006); J. Frey, et al, eds., Jewish Identity in the Greco-Roman World (Leiden: Brill, 2007). Further bibliography in C. Hezser, “Daily Life.” 17 E.g., T. Frank, ed., An Economic Survey of Ancient Rome (4 vols; Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1927-40); F.C. Grant, The Economy Background of the Gospels (1926). See now W. Scheidel, I. Morris, and R. Saller, The Cambridge Economic History of the Greco-Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007); W. Scheidel, ed., The Cambridge Companion to the Roman Economy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 18 Jeremias, Jerusalem, 110. 19

ignores some obvious passages like Luke 17:7, in which Jesus speaks of a slave working in a field. Jeremias’ evidence may demonstrate a limited discussion of rural slavery in the rabbinic sources, but his evidence does not demonstrate a lack of rural slavery as an institution.19 Omitting discussion of structural economic interaction, especially trade and tax collection throughout the Roman empire, produces a flawed dataset. Third, Jeremias does not engage with scholarship about the daily life of persons in the first-century.20 Though his volume is essentially a social history describing behaviors and interactions between people of different socio-economic status, he fails to describe the most common interactions of the non-elite.

Finally, Jeremias miscalculates the cost of various items because of the above issues. His analysis largely omits key texts, as described above, and relies on late prices within the rabbinic texts. Inflation rapidly increased between the first century, the end-point of Jeremias’ analysis, and the third century, the date of most rabbinic sources used by Jeremias. We will explore this in finer detail below.

In some ways, the stagnation of scholarship on Lukan economics stems from the ideas and approaches found in Jeremias’ method, dataset, and conclusions. Following our three points above, we will see a trend throughout the remainder of our history of scholarship. A method which is limited to one type of lens to analyze socio-economic status will produce results that do not quite match the life of a non-elite in the first century. A dataset comprising of largely literary texts will not reflect the everyday realities of non-elite peoples and needs to be supplemented with papyri and other material remains. Any conclusions reached using flawed datasets and methods will need further examination.

1.4.2 Douglas Oakman: Socio-Scientific Analysis

D. Oakman uses a social-scientific methodology to illuminate the historical realities behind the text. He seeks to explain the historical Jesus that the text describes.21 Oakman fruitfully uses a materialist approach to illuminate the power dynamics lurking behind social-scientific

19 So C. Hezser, Jewish Slavery in Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 252-53. 20 E.g., J. Carcopino, Daily Life in Ancient Rome (London: Penguin, 1941). See now C. Hezser, ed., Oxford Handbook of Jewish Daily Life (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010). 21 D. Oakman, Jesus and the Economic Questions of His Day (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen, 1988) and Jesus and the Peasants (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2008) but see also The Political Aims of Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012) and Jesus, Debt, and the Lord’s Prayer (Eugene: Cascade, 2014). Cf. H. Moxnes, The Economy of the Kingdom (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1988) who focuses on the narrative world. 20

concepts of limited good, honor, and cultural values of the ancient Mediterranean.22 In this way, Oakman seeks to root abstract socio-economic concepts into the lived experiences of Jesus’ original audiences.23

Key to Oakman’s work is building a methodological lens that depicts the historical characters within their social dynamics in contrast to Western, capitalist analysis from urban centers.24 This socio-scientific lens helpfully produced models on patronage, kinship, honor/shame, and agrarian life which can be fruitfully applied to Luke-Acts. Unlike Jeremias, Oakman rightfully emphasizes the larger Greco-Roman societal structure, particularly the imperial presence of tax collectors and local elites.25

For much of his socio-economic analysis, Oakman utilizes the concept of ‘peasantry.’ Oakman defines his working definition of ‘peasantry’ as:

a rural population… who are compelled to give up their agricultural (or other economic) surplus to a separate group of power-holders… In Mediterranean antiquity the overlords of peasants tended to be city-dwellers, and a culture-chasm divided the literate elite from the unlettered villager.26

Oakman uses the definition and concept of peasantry in the modern era to describe peasantry in the first-century. 27 For Oakman, Jesus and his audience were Jewish peasants; thus, everything needs to be filtered through the lens of peasantry to arrive at a historical reality behind the text. When analyzing socio-economics, Oakman focuses on power dynamics like ownership of the means of production and literacy. This plays out largely through a power- dynamic between Jesus, his listeners, and a ruling class (e.g., the literate scribal elite).

Oakman’s analysis helpfully sheds light on economic exchanges within the social-scientific lenses of patronage, reciprocity, and honor/shame, all of which illustrate the power dynamics of the hierarchical structure of the ancient Mediterranean society. Unlike Jeremias, he roots

22 See D. Oakman, “The Biblical World of Limited Good in Cultural, Social, and Technological Perspective: In Memory of Bruce J. Malina—Pioneer, Patron, and Friend” BTB 48 (2018): 97-105. 23 Oakman, Peasants, 1-2 sees his work as a part of the third quest for the historical Jesus. 24 Ibid., 1-8. 25 See Oakman, Palestine in the Time of Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998). 26 Oakman, Peasants, 167. 27 Ibid., 164-80. Though quite different in methodology, this concept is key also to the works of K. Bailey, Poet and Peasant (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976) and Through Peasant Eyes (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980). 21

his arguments in discussions of ancient economy and social history and offers several models, evidence, and arguments.28 However, his methodology and dataset can be critiqued. First, his concept of “peasantry,” taken from peasantry in the modern era, as a category to describe “peasantry” in the first-century tends to read cultural assumptions into ancient texts. As S. Rollens has convincingly argued, “[In the work of Oakman and others,] peasantry as a socio- economic type and peasantry as a culture type often become merged, which risks importing assumptions about an essentialized peasantry into discussions that gain little explanation from privileging a unique peasant culture.”29 Pushing this even further, Oakman’s model of peasantry misunderstands aspects of life in the first-century from a historical and economic point of view. It is why, according to S. Matilla, these models “romantically populate Galilee overwhelmingly with ‘peasants’” who outnumber the Soviet peasants in the model on which it relies.30

Second, ancient economic and social standing do not combine to form a cross-section of society, like the peasant class for Oakman or, more generally, an ancient class of any kind.31 Oakman’s concept of the scribal elite misunderstands the socio-economic status of the literate. Many non-elites like secretaries, stone-masons, specialized slaves, and shepherds might be considered literate but were not elite in any sense.32 Economic status and social status do overlap to some extent, but there are plenty of exceptions. Slaves could become quite wealthy and so belong to a high economic status but not to a social elite.33 Macedonian cities, for example, had socially elite members who were not wealthy or particularly educated.34 This diversity also occurs within the Roman elite; some Equestrians could be

28 Oakman, Peasants, 53-69. 29 S. Rollens, Framing Social Criticism in the Jesus Movement (WUNT 2.374; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 26. 30 S. Mattila, “Jesus and the ‘Middle Peasants’? Problematizing a Social-Scientific Concept” CBQ 72 (2010), 291-313. 31 This is the emerging view of social-scientific NT scholarship stemming from especially S. Friesen, “Poverty in Pauline Studies: Beyond the So-Called New Consensus,” JSNT 26 (2004): 323-61. 32 Cf. Shepherds in Varro, Rust. 2.2.20. See recently a discussion of work which needed some level of literacy in the Roman world including secretaries and other slaves in H. Eckardt, Writing and Power in the Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), 41-49. For a positive view of ancient literacy and critique of methodologies, see B. Wright, “Ancient Literacy in New Testament Research: Incorporating a Few More Lines of Enquiry,” Trinity Journal 36 (2015): 161-89 and, from a different angle, C. Keith, “Urbanization and Literate Status in Early Christian Rome: Hermas and Justin Martyr as Examples” in The Urban World and the First Christians, ed. S. Walton, et al (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 187-204. 33 See discussion of vilius in 4.3.2.2. 34 As argued in J. Bartels, Städtische Eliten im römischen Makedonien (BAK 242; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2008), 191-93, especially chapter four “Wer zählte im römischen Makedonien zur Elite?” (95-193). 22

wealthier than Senators.35 Using socio-economic status to describe a class thus cannot be sustained within the text or in any audience of the first-century.

Finally, Oakman’s analysis purposefully limits his dataset to conflict between groups within the narrative: the rural peasants and the landowners; the greedy wealthy and their dependent clients. Because this binary view is introduced in his dataset and methodologies, his conclusions reflect a power-dynamic between two groups such as the rich and the poor with practically nothing in between two poles of opposing positions. Though Oakman is closer to the experience of the non-elite, his methodology and dataset need nuancing and updating to grapple with new evidence and methods.36

An important distinction between Jeremias and Oakman’s goals and this project’s goals is the application of socio-economic data. Jeremias and Oakman both describe a historical picture of Galilee in the first-century and the power-dynamics within a first-century Jewish society. As we will argue, a more fruitful use of the socio-economic data of the first-century, including material and literary data and in particular GLk, utilizes the context of early Christ- groups in urban centers of the Greek East.

1.5 Analyzing Socio-Economic Data in GLk in Light of Luke’s Audience

1.5.1 Lillian Portefaix: Socio-Economic Profiling in Philippi

Lilian Portefaix focuses on real readers interacting with Luke-Acts and Philippians.37 Portefaix constructs a profile of Philippian women from the rubble of first-century Philippi. She focuses on the social life of first-century Philippian women and, using this as her lens, analyzes themes in Philippians and Luke-Acts which might be particularly of interest to the first and second-generation Philippian women associated with the Christ-group.

For this assertion, Bartels cites Dio Chrsysostom, Discourses 34.24ff with the comment that education is only one of many recognized social values. 35 See Oakes, “Methodological Issues.” 36 With P. Harland, “The Economy of First Century Palestine: The State of Scholarly Discussion,” in Handbook of Early Christianity, eds. A.J. Blasi, et al (Walnut Creek: Alta Mira Press, 2002), 511-27. 37 L. Portefaix, Sisters Rejoice: Paul’s Letter to the Philippians and Luke-Acts as Seen by First-Century Philippian Women (ConBNT 20; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1988). 23

Portefaix helpfully distinguishes between socio-economic statuses of women in Luke-Acts: elite women seemed to be mentioned in passing (Herod’s wife, 3:19; Queen Candance, Acts 8:27; Felix’s wife Drusilla, Acts 24:24; Bernice, Agrippa’s consort, Acts 25:23) in contrast to the “lower-class women” to whom Luke give more attention.38 For Portefaix, Luke depicts these “more modest social positions [which represent] different classes and styles of living” as important characters within the Christ-movement. To define different classes and styles of living, Portefaix sorts into different groups landowners (Sapphira), artisans (Priscilla), business women (Lydia), independent women with some means (Dorcas, Lydia), maidservants (Rhoda, Mary), and “pitiable” women (poor widows, prostitutes).39 Luke’s social message was “based on a net set of values… which might have brought them in great numbers into [Luke’s] possible audience.”40

Portefaix has sifted through an enormous amount of literary and material evidence to produce a well-rounded exegetical lens for analyzing Luke-Acts and Philippians. Some critique can be mentioned regarding her exegetical analysis of Luke-Acts and some of her terminology. Her delineation between the elite and non-elite is helpful, but an ancient class did not exist in the first century. Her categorization of business women and maidservants helpfully points out the different socio-economic profiles in the non-elite, but she does not define who the “rich” or “poor” are in measurable terms. For this project, the biggest drawback of her project is that she does not treat in detail any passage in Luke-Acts that is concerned with use of money.

1.5.2 Philip Esler: Social-Scientific and Socio-Economic Profiling in the Greek East

P. Esler uses a social-scientific method to flesh out socio-economic profiles within the contexts of an urban audience in the Greek East. He uses this method as a lens through which to analyze the socio-economic material in Luke-Acts.41 Esler describes life in urban centers in the Greek East to understand how Luke’s view of wealth, the rich, and the poor would affect his audience members. He also focuses on in-group conflict between different

38 Ibid., 158. 39 Ibid., 159. 40 Ibid., 158, 160. 41 P. Esler, Community and Gospel in Luke-Acts (SNTSMS 57; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). 24

groups in Luke’s audience, be they rich or poor, Jewish or Gentile. He is especially concerned with describing a ‘material’ salvation for the poor in addition to a future eschatological salvation.42 As Oakman, his economic analysis purposefully treats the lexemes of ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ in Luke’s audience, leaving much of Luke’s audience out of the picture. We will seek to correct this binary analysis by proposing a methodology that considered behaviors and possessions.

In his description of socio-economic status in the Greek East, Esler emphasizes the πτωχοὶ as “beggars,” as “the correct rendering of… the Greek, a word whose force is eviscerated by the translation ‘the poor.’”43 Esler focuses on the destitute nature of the πτωχοὶ because of the emphasis of a “middle-class bias” which has shaped Luke’s socio-economic data “through [a] layer of embourgeoisement.”44 Seeing the urban poor in need of food and shelter within the contexts of a city will demonstrate that “the urban poor suffered extreme forms of economic, social and political deprivation… [were] ill-fed, housed in slums or not at all, [and] ravaged by sickness.”45

To counteract this bias, Esler constructs a picture of society in which the non-elite were stratified: the “most fortunate were probably the wealthier merchants and traders” followed by “the artisans and those who engaged in service industries.” Under these were “unskilled workers, both freemen and freedmen, citizen and peregrine” followed by the “free poor unable to work, such as the blind, the crippled or the mentally disturbed, [whose] only means of livelihood was begging (πτωχεία) or support by relatives.”46 Two further groups Esler describes are “debt bondsmen” and slaves, the latter of which he helpfully distinguishes between social status and subsistence.

The exegetical pay-off of Esler’s methodology yields a similar picture to Oakman. For Esler, the GLk is “good news for the poor, grim news for the rich… threatening them with the total loss of their status, wealth and power.”47 Esler argues that Luke “was insisting… that [Christ-groups] be eschewed by any of the rich and influential who wished to be members

42 Ibid., 191-97. 43 Ibid., 164, 180-81. 44 Ibid., 171. 45 Ibid., 179. 46 Ibid., 173-74. 47 Ibid., 187, 188. 25

of the Christian community.”48 The binary between the rich and poor becomes the key to Esler’s conclusions. The poorest in the community are given “a sense of their own dignity as human persons” whilst the rich have “an indispensable requirement, quite at odds with the social values of their own society, to provide the destitute with food and the other necessities of life.”49

Esler’s methodology moves Lukan scholarship forward by focusing on the stratification of life in a major urban center for his audience, but recent socio-economic studies require a revisiting of some of Esler’s main points. First, πτωχοὶ connotes neither a beggar nor a particular type of poor person. Recent scholarship points out key difficulties reconstructing economic strata from lexemes (πένης and πτωχός). Elites wrote much of the literature consulted in such lexical approaches. Pliny or Cicero’s definition of rich and poor means something very different than, say, an artisan’s idea of the rich and the poor. We will explore this point further below. The terms πένης and πτωχός, “[were not] sufficiently laden with associations with a particular level of need to prevent its use in quite other circumstances.”50 This recent development renders past scholarship focusing on differences between πένης and πτωχός outdated.51 Thus, most modern scholars, including NT scholars, are moving past lexical studies since “ancient vocabulary… [does not] provide a useful definition of the poor as a socioeconomic group.”52 Second, his social-stratification is helpful but recent NT and classics scholarship shows a larger ‘middling’ section than previously considered. Thus, much of Luke’s audience is unaddressed with “rich” and “poor” binary opposition.53 Third, he uses data within Luke-Acts to describe a possible community to whom Luke addresses. This project will argue the opposite approach better fits an exegetical way forward. Using data about the population of a typical city in the Greek East and mapping that data onto a Christ-

48 Ibid., 189. 49 Ibid., 199. Contra Esler, good Jewish and Gentile benefactors would follow Luke’s directives of clothing and feeding the poor, but with Esler, Luke’s ethics seem qualitatively different in certain ways we explore below. 50 R. Osborne, “Introduction: Roman Poverty in Context” in Poverty in the Roman World, eds. M. Atkins and R. Osborne (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 11. 51 Differences between πένης and πτωχός found in Esler, Community, 180-200; H. Merklein, “πτωχός” EDNT 3:193-94; T. Hanks, “Poor, Poverty” ABD 5:415-21. See recent critique in B. Longenecker, Remember the Poor (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 37-40; L.L. Welborn, “The Polis and the Poor: Reconstructing Social Relations from Different Genres of Evidence’,” in The First Urban Churches, eds. J.R. Harrison and L.L. Welborn (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 189-243 52 Welborn, “Polis,” 195. 53 See both points in 1.8. 26

group for possible members will yield stronger historical grounding rather than mapping possible Christ-group members onto a city’s population.

1.6. Analyzing the Ethics of Economic Data

This project is interested in how audience members would react to socio-economic markers within five uniquely Lukan parables. As chapter 2 will argue, parables evoke a response from listeners. In GLk scholarship, the responses to portrayal of socio-economic data usually falls under the category of wealth ethics.54 Situating a method within recent approaches to wealth ethics will demonstrate how our approach can address gaps in the previous scholarship.

1.6.1 Christopher Hays: Ethics of Socio-Economic Data in GLk

C. Hays’ Luke’s Wealth Ethics pressed scholarship forward by developing a method which considers Jewish and Greco-Roman wealth ethics and applied that method to nearly the entirety of Luke-Acts. Hays argues that Luke asks different groups composed of poor itinerants, rich itinerants, poor localized disciples, and rich localized disciples to renounce wealth in different ways.55 All must “renounce” something: the poor itinerants renounce their home and family; rich itinerants must renounce their property and given the proceeds to poor; poor localized disciples should focus on offering hospitality and the rich localized disciples should also practice hospitality while selling their property to give to the poor.56

Hays contributes three key additions to research. First, his framework includes four groups of potential disciples, two rich and two poor, who are commanded to do different things with wealth depending on their circumstances.57 Such an approach highlights the need for more specific socio-economic contexts of characters and audiences in determining wealth ethics. Second, Luke’s wealth ethics are not confined to rich-poor lexemes. Pericopes that do not explicitly mention socio-economic status with rich-poor lexemes still impact wealth ethics. Finally, Luke urges socio-economic action for every potential Christ-follower. The

54 See K. Kim, Stewardship and Almsgiving in Luke’s Theology (JSNTSupS 115; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998). Cf. M. Wi, The Path to Salvation in Luke’s Gospel (LNTS 607; London: T&T Clark, 2019). 55 Hays, Wealth, 267. 56 Ibid., 186. 57 Hays sees this approach as building from the personalist (e.g., L. T. Johnson, Sharing Possessions [2nd ed; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011]) and bi-vocational (e.g., Kim, Stewardship) approaches to wealth. 27

first and second contribution are especially important when dealing with a mixture of economic levels in Luke’s audience. We will push his third contribution forward in our project by analyzing potential actions stemming from GLk within early Christ-groups.

Even as Hays’ methodology makes contributions to Lukan scholarship, it still has some shortcomings. Hays does not define what ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ mean in material terms aside from rejecting the older binary views of previous scholarship.58 Hays rightly points out that the Roman elite perspective differs from Luke’s in that senators probably would not consider Zacchaeus, the centurion, or resident landowners as πλούσιος. This is, of course, true but does defined of rich and poor aside from ‘non-elite.’ Hays does not see Jesus’ disciples as πτωχοί because they were “adequately fed and clothed (Lk 22:35-38),” have “purses, bags, garments, and even swords.”59 Hays is probably correct that the disciples are not below subsistence levels in the narrative, but the way in which he measures their socio-economic status is misguided. Purses, bags, and garments were not markers of socio-economic status, and as we will argue, even the day laborer who struggled to live at subsistence level owned clothes and bags. This is true even in GLk’s narrative. The πτωχὴ widow, in giving her λεπτὰ δύο, was surely clothed in the temple. Because Greco-Roman outer clothing did not have pockets for coins, she may have carried a pouch or bag (marsupium, μαρσίππιον) to hold her money.60 A character explicitly described as πτωχὴ in the GLk owns some of the items Hays uses to determine non-πτωχός status. Thus, we need more specificity in understanding socio-economic statuses in discussion of wealth ethics.

This point illustrates the problem of limiting one’s project to the narrative and authorial intention itself. Because the ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ are not defined in material terms from the perspective of GLk’s readers, practical ethics for a socio-economic situation outside the text cannot be adequately addressed. The limitations of a literary model looking largely at intention and the process of writing the narrative from the author’s perspective fail to describe meaningful actions for a historically situated audience.61 Hays’ work is concerned with when such acts should happen. For example, Hays writes that the Acts community is

58 Hays, Wealth, 9, 108. Hays discusses the theological and narrative implications of Luke’s view of the poor and where it stems from in 107-10. 59 Ibid., 9, 93 respectively. 60 It is also possible that she wore a belt, the folds of which served as pockets. 61 Hays employs a largely “narrative-critical” (80) approach buttressed with “redaction, tradition, and social-scientific criticism,” (81). 28

“occasionally infused with cash by more affluent members who intermittently sell off property in order to provide for the poor.”62 This project is concerned with defining who these affluent and poor members are before asking how such writings affect those members’ actions.

Finally, Hays’ work contains the same issues raised above about the type of evidence one should prefer. First, Hays relies heavily on elite literature and limits most non-literary evidence to a brief discussion on benefaction or lexical meanings of individual words.63 Second, Hays tends to privilege some types of Jewish evidence over “Greco-Roman” evidence. He explains this privileging by arguing that “Luke’s teachings on possessions are fundamentally formed by Jewish morality, and only clothing in the language of Hellenism to contextualize them for a largely Gentile, Diaspora audience.”64 Even if Hays is correct, this does not mean that Luke’s Gentile audience is familiar with Luke’s possible sources and would understand them in the same way that the author did. In this way, Hays conflates audience with authorial intent; an audience will not have the same understanding of a subject that an author might.65 Similarly, the type of evidence cited may also have less relevance for an audience member than an author composing a work. When describing affluent women who supported Jesus in 8:1-3, Hays uses Jewish texts to argue the historicity of Jewish women gaining and spending enough money to support 13 men.66 However, this type of evidence, particularly late rabbinic evidence, would not be relevant to Luke’s expected audience. Luke’s audience would be more likely to identify the characters with their immediate cultural context rather. The group of women patrons would not be surprising to Luke’s expected audience and may have been written with such women patrons in mind.67

62 Hays, Wealth, 268. 63 23 inscriptions cited occur in this discussion (59-65). 12 out of 14 cited papyri and 2 other inscriptions are used to buttress lexical or semantic arguments. 64 Hays, Wealth, 23. 65 See section 2.1. 66 Hays, Wealth, 84-86 in the context of the women as disciples and thus responsible for renouncing wealth. 67 See arguments and in 3.1 and a recent summary of women patrons in C. Osiek, “Diakonos and prostatis: Women’s Patronage in Early Christianity,” HST 61 (2005), 347-70; Bain, Women’s Socioeconomic Status, 1-38; 97-136. 29

1.6.2 David Balch: Ethics of Socio-Economic Data in Greco-Roman Society

To give some balance to Hays’ privileging of certain Jewish evidence, we will summarize D. Balch’s scholarship on the Greco-Roman backgrounds of Lukan ethics. Contrary to Hays, Balch argues that Luke’s wealth ethics mirror some popular Greco-Roman ethical values.68 Balch critiques previous scholars, represented by H. Bolkestein and P. Esler, who argue that Luke’s reversal ethics would be novel for his Greco-Roman audience. Balch argues that Greco-Roman society had some ethical ideas in place which urge those in power to care for the poor.69 Balch insists that the Lukan audience of Greco-Roman pagan and God-fearers would have understood Luke’s ethics of reversal, preferential treatment for the poor by deities, and forgiving debts, in light of ethics found in works like those by Dionysius of Halicarnassus. Balch focuses on the various topoi the Greco-Roman audience would have inferred from Luke’s gospel. He summarizes his argument:

Bolkestein’s and Esler’s typical opinion that Luke is introducing novel values to Gentile Christian congregations fundamentally misunderstands the social ethics of the Gospel. Rather, Luke is reinforcing these Gentiles’ pre-Christian values. Greeks and Romans who retold the stories of Brutus and Coriolanus, of Cleomenes and the [Gracchi], knew that providence watches over the poor, who live with the rich in Greco-Roman cities, and that the rich who mistreat them will be humbled. The Gospel of Luke reinforces these values.70

Balch pushes forward scholarship in a few ways. First, he helpfully highlights the Greco- Roman stoic and historic discourse surrounding the elite’s treatment of the non-elite. Such context helps illuminate the cultural contexts for both the authorial creation of GLk and the audience’s interpretation of GLk. Second, he correctly points out that care for the poor was given some credence in Greco-Roman public discourse. As he demonstrates, care for the poor

68 Part of Balch’s position rests on the genre of Luke-Acts being “political historiography” rather than biography which can no longer be sustained. See 1.7.2. 69 D. Balch, “Rich and Poor, Proud and Humble in Luke-Acts” in The Social World of the First Christians, ed. L.M. White, et al (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 214-33. Hays does not interact with Balch. See this and similar essays in D. Balch, Contested Ethnicities and Images (WUNT 345; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015). 70 Balch, “Rich,” 232. Portefaix, Sisters acknowledges Greco-Roman gifts to the poor but concludes the Christian social message were a new set of values. See also P. Lampe, “Social Welfare in the Greco-Roman World as a Background for Early Christian Practice,” Acts Theologica 23 (2016): 1-28 on the shifting roles of cities, welfare, and private individuals. 30

was not a strictly Jewish ethic. Helpful too are the inscriptions and legal decree cited to buttress his admitted reliance on literary texts.71

However, a few familiar problems arise in Balch’s argument. First, the textual evidence Balch presents is not neutral. Dionysius had several elites in his own circles and, as such, his text will reflect elite perspectives.72 As Miller points out, Dionysius includes status reversals “so that the poor can fight in the military.”73 Second, Balch refers only to the categories of the rich and the poor in Luke and the plebeians and patricians in society when further nuance is needed to delineate between, for example, non-elite merchant exporters and an enslaved artisan. The categories of rich and poor do not shape practical actions from ethical abstracts no matter how common they might be in Greco-Roman thought. Third, the material evidence of daily life of those in urban centers do not always reflect Balch’s conclusions. When the wealthy do help the poor, the event is recorded or commemorated in some way to honor the rich, their actions, and their posterity. That is, the act itself serves to keep the poor as recipients of favors and the elite as benefactors. The act, literally set in stone, tells only of the generosity of the elite and the need of the poor.

This last point can be pushed further by using the examples of honorary inscriptions and popular morality. The inscriptions are largely positive examples for the elite because they portray benefactors as worthy of imitating, while reminding the poor of their material need and their (social) need to honor the benefactor. It is entirely possible that a benefactor cannot recall whether his benefaction was motivated by his love of fellow citizens (Bürgersolidarität) or his own pursuit of social standing which may benefit his community by proxy.74 As Barclay states, “[honorific inscriptions] eloquently proclaim the generosity of the benefactor, while making clear that the purpose of their public display is both to reward donors with appropriate honor and to incite them to continue their good work [while also]

71 Balch, “Rich,” 230-32. 72 Roman consul Q. Aelius Tubero is addressed (De Thucy.), a source of some information (R.A., 1.80.1) and possibly Dionysius’ patron. 73 Miller, Rumors, 108. Balch’s evidence of debt remission (IvE 8 on p. 231) was to allow Ephesians to fight against Mithridates which is not comparable to the Lord’s Prayer. The Egyptian papyri (CIG 4957) cited is more helpful. 74 Bartels, Eliten, 57 who cites F. Quass, Die Honoratiorenschicht in de Städten des griechischen Ostens (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1993), 347. Quass describes three different motivations which the benefactor may have in mind when performing an act of benefaction: social prestige involving some political influence, social obligation including wealth (sozialen Verpflichtung, die der Reichtum per se beinhaltete), and benevolence (Wohlwollen) towards the demos. 31

unapologetically encourage others to emulate them...”75 The record preserves the social status of both parties and openly displays them. Balch contends that the rich will be humbled if they do not take care of the poor, but the humility the rich might receive cannot compare with the economic status of the poor. The elite might care for the poor, but they are more likely to care for things that interest them or are in their own interests. Rather than being rooted in stoic philosophy which might only apply to a sub-section of society, this self- interest is rooted in socio-cultural norms within Greco-Roman society itself.76 Popular morality in proverbs, fables, wisdom sayings, and exempla “tell the poor to be content, to appreciate the relative safety of an obscure life and not to seek advancement by sycophancy towards the rich.”77 In sum, the poor are always cognizant of local wealthy, elite, and socially privileged persons, but the rich may only know of the poor generally, and even then, only their need. The use of wealth in Greco-Roman society seeks to further one’s interests via benefaction, banqueting, or donations, or material possessions.

Since wealth is typically used to promote one’s interests, we might expect Luke to favor the poor exclusively. Limited to a lexical study of πτωχοὶ, the poor are indeed positively characterized: Jesus proclaims good news to them (4:18, πτωχοῖς, 7:22), they are blessed and receive the kingdom of God (6:20, πτωχοί), they are to be invited to banquets (14:13- 21), received into Abraham’s bosom (16:22), beneficiaries of sold possessions (18:22, theoretical; actual in 19:8 with Zacchaeus), and give larger offerings to God than the rich (21:3, widow). Luke also depicts manual laborers or low-wage earners generally as recipients of divine favor: shepherds witness divine messengers (2:8-20); fishermen are appointed disciples (5:1-11), and farmers are used to describe God (8:1-15; 20:9-19) unless they are rich as in the rich fool (12:13-21). Not only the are those explicitly labeled πτωχοὶ favored, but so are the low-income manual laborers. In contrast, occurrences of πλούσιος portray a negative picture: the wealthy are sent away empty (1:53, πλουτοῦντας), received their comfort already (6:24, πλουσίοις) and are warned not to store up riches for themselves as the rich fool (12:16-21, πλούσιος).

75 J. Barclay, Paul and the Gift (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 33. 76 On the emperor acting as euergetes to encourage local elites to become civic benefactors themselves, see L. Michael White, “Urban Development and Social Change in Imperial Ephesos,” in Ephesos, ed. H. Koester (Valley Forge: Trinity, 1995), 55. 77 T. Morgan, Popular Morality in the Early Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 164. 32

Yet Luke’s gospel contains several positive characters who are certainly wealthy by even a conservative measure of economic status. Zacchaeus is explicitly named as πλούσιος, but many other positive characters are described as rich with their actions or possessions. We can also point to Theophilus (1:1) the literary patron; Levi the tax-collector (5:27); the centurion (7:10) who seems to be a local patron of the synagogue (7:5); the once-sinful woman who purchased a very expensive anointment and so must have some means and is praised by Jesus (7:36-43); Joanna, Susanna, and Mary who financially support at least 13 men (8:3); the owner of the large upper-room (22:10-13) that accommodates at least 13 men; and Joseph of Arimathea (23:50) who was a member of the local council (βουλευτὴς). Acts contains even more positive characters with means. There are land-owners selling their property and possessions for the poor’s benefit (2:45-46); Barnabas who owned and sold land (4:36-37); a wealthy Ethiopian court official (8:26-40); Cornelius the centurion (10:1-48), Sergius Paulus (12:6-12), Manaen who was perhaps in Herod’s court (13:1), Lydia (16:13-15), the prominent women of Berea (17:12), and the Ephesian Asiarchs (19:31). Luke’s wealthy characters as exempla stands in contrast to popular Greco-Roman morality.

Using behaviors and possessions to determine economic markers and viewing those markers from the perspective of Luke’s audience will show that Luke’s unique parables often praise the wealthier character in the parable and present the character as an exemplar to Luke’s audience. The key point here is that Luke’s wealthy exempla serves to instruct everyone how to best use their wealth in ways which do not expect reciprocity as seen in the self-promoting benefactions above. Such exempla affect different economic statuses because they all must use their money in the way Luke presents. A wealthier member may have more ability to spend money on others or herself, but the less wealthy will also need to care for their neighbors. They will be imitating different characters, several of whom will be wealthier than they are. Economic analyses that limit themselves to certain lexemes, then, do not fully consider characterizations of those with means in GLk.

1.7 A Way Forward: Socio-Economic Profiling Using Economic Scaling

1.7.1 Economic Scaling in NT Scholarship

In New Testament scholarship, Pauline scholars have moved towards access to resources as a better measure of economic status than lexical studies. Access to grain or calories generally became the economic measure of poverty. Using a binary method, that of G. Aföldy and J. Meggitt, elites rank above subsistence level and the non-elite below subsistence.78 This view, labeled “binary tunnel vision” by W. Scheidel,79 is slowly giving way to scaled strata though these scales are still rooted in caloric needs. E. Stegemann and W. Stegemann, in their highly influential work for NT scholars, calculated a minimum number of daily calories needed to survive (=sustenance) and calculated a daily wage necessary to purchase these calories or the size of farm necessary to produce these calories.80 They found three groups: those below subsistence, those at or near subsistence, and those above it. To flesh out even further the non-elite, S. Friesen developed a 7-tier economy scale he called a “poverty scale.”81 Persons are placed on the scale in accordance to their subsistence levels with a bit more nuance. B. Longenecker revised Friesen’s scales by expanding the ‘middling’ section (ES5) and changed its name to the ‘economy scales’ since the elite have no place on a “poverty scale.”82 Both Friesen and Longenecker attempt to place biblical characters like Phoebe and Lydia onto the scales based on their trades, their hypothetical income, and their caloric expenses.

Economic scaling helpfully demonstrates that neither the rich nor the poor are monolithic entities, but we can still make a few critiques of using access to calories as a means of measuring economic status. First, deducing a minimum amount of grain for subsistence does not reflect the everyday social realities of people. Benefactors distributed food amongst cities without monetary gain, banquets provided food, festivals served meals, and associations

78 J. Meggitt, Paul, Poverty and Survival (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998); G. Alföldy, The Social History of Rome (London: Croom Helm, 1985). 79 W. Scheidel, “Stratification, Deprivation, and Quality of Life,” in Poverty in the Roman World, ed. M. Atkins and R. Osborne (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 54. 80 E. Stegemann and W. Stegemann, Urchristliche Sozialgeschichte (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1995) who were responding to and updating G. Lenski, Power and Privilege (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966). See summary and critique in Oakes, “Methodological Issues.” 81 Friesen, “Poverty in Pauline Studies.” 82 Longenecker, Remember the Poor. 34

provide more calories per denarius then buying food at the market.83 Second, the poor did not automatically buy calories with their money. The poor might sacrifice calories for social gain, entertainment, or other reasons. For example, we know low income manual-laborers donated sums of money. Ephesian fishermen, a poor income-earning trade, donated money for a toll-booth.84 Lydian leather-workers erected an honorary inscription upon a member’s grave.85 Lycean shepherds produced several inscriptions in which they honor Zeus.86 If these were low-wage workers or day laborers, these laborers may have sacrificed calories for social currency. Third, we should be leery of measuring poverty through a scarcity of resources. P. Oakes, in one of his critiques of Friesen’s scales, notes that our sources do not speak about a “poverty of resources.” He says, “ancient sources (and certainly the New Testament) hardly ever tell us the resources of a particular poor person or group. They tell us behaviour. X wears no cloak. Y sells himself into slavery. Z works as a prostitute. We cannot map this behaviour directly onto resources. Z may send money to family in the countryside. X [who wears no cloak] may go cold because he spends his income on religious rituals.”87

Oakes’ critique points out two different issues needing attention. First, economic markers of possessions and behaviors within the texts themselves will produce more specific results than economy scales based on caloric intake and makes better use of GLk as a primary source. Second, the economic levels need more input from the social contexts they describe. Behaviors, motivations of those behaviors, and the social structures in which these behaviors take place should stand beside these economic numbers to provide a better picture of reality.88 Still, Longenecker’s scale has value even as it has limitations. Friesen’s initial poverty scale

83 See the following examples in J. Liu, “Urban Poverty in the Roman Empire: Material Conditions,” in Paul and Economics, eds. T. Blanton IV and R. Pickett (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2016), 46-52: a monthly grain allowance in several cities (Rome, Oxyrhynchus, Antinoopolis, Hermopolis, and Alexandria) and cash distributions (congiaria) in Rome; collegia and associations would provide for members (if they could afford membership dues). cf. also Damianus of Ephesus who restored public buildings and gave money to the state for the poor (Philostratus, Lives 2.23). 84IvE 20 records a donation from some 100 fishermen towards a toll-booth. Donations range from 5 to 30 denarii. 85 SEG 29:1183 = PHI 277069. ca. 147CE. 86 See I. Laodikeia 112. P. Thonemann, The Maeander Valley (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 190-95 posits that the shepherds may have enjoy a higher social status in the Lycus valley. U. Huttner, Early Christianity in the Lycus Valley; trans. D. Green (ECAM 1; Leiden: Brill, 2013), 160 considers the case of Papias Klexos, a possibly entrepreneurial shepherd. 87 P. Oakes, “Constructing Poverty Scales for Graeco-Roman Society: A Response to Steven Friesen’s ‘Poverty in Pauline Studies’,” JSNT 26 (2004): 368. 88 Cf. “shift[ing] attention to political and socioeconomic systems” (Bain, Status, 56) but not to a materialist development of history. 35

maps very well with Oakes’ study of economic status based on domestic space, which gives some credence to the strata Friesen developed. Longenecker’s data expands the ‘middling’ section, following recent arguments from Friesen and Scheidel and Brookins that such a middling category was likely a larger section of society than previously argued.89 In sum, using economic statuses in exegesis helps to move away from the rich/poor dichotomy still found in some scholarship on Lukan economics.

What follows is a description of the economic statuses in the ancient Mediterranean during the first century. Longenecker’s economy scale (henceforth ES) is helpful to delineate the differences between the terms ‘poor’ and ‘rich,’ but possessions and behaviors will dictate placement rather than access to calories. In doing so, we will move away from a lexically based analysis found in Lukan scholarship and move toward the more complicated picture of economic life for Luke’s audience.

1.7.2 Economic Statuses during the First-Century90

In his ES, Longenecker lists the following levels of economic positions in a typical Greco- Roman urban population: 3% are elite and wealthy (ES1-3) though this does not have to necessitate elite social status; 15% enjoy a ‘moderate surplus’ (ES4) and could be considered ‘wealthy’ to some; 57% are at or just above subsistence level (ES5-6) and would probably be considered the ‘masses’ rather than the poor; 25% live below subsistence (ES7). A typical Christ-group listening to GLk is probably over-represented in groups ES5, 6, and 7 when compared to society at large. A few ES4 members is not unreasonable especially for an audience towards the end of the first century. Longenecker constructs a possible Pauline Christ-group, but he blurs his own lines between ES6 and ES7. His construction is admittedly conjecture but it is “tightly controlled conjecture” which seems to correlate well with, for example, the Corinthian correspondence and the distribution of domestic space in

89 W. Scheidel and S. Friesen, “The Size of the Economy and the Distribution of Income in the Roman Empire,” JRS 99 (2009): 61-91; T. Brookins, Corinthian Wisdom, Stoic Philosophy, and the Ancient Economy (SNTSMS 159; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014); T. Brookins, “Economic Profiling of Early Christian Communities,” in Paul and Economics, ed. T. Blanton and R. Pickett (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2017), 57-88. 90 See slightly different scales in Brookins, “Economic Profiling,” 81 who combines approaches from Friesen, Oakes, Sanders, and Longenecker and adds some 5% to the ‘middling’ section from the poverty-stricken section. These percentages do not affect our methodology, so we have chosen Longenecker’s scales which scholarship has received positively. 36

Pompeii.91 It is possible that Luke’s audience may have seen an increase in the ES4 levels, for example, but we will use Longenecker’s percentages in our reconstruction of Luke’s audience.

Percentages of Typical Urban Percentages for an Urban Christ- Population (2010)92 Group

ES1-3 3% - Very Wealthy 0% ES4 15% - Some Wealth; Moderate 10% (one family; one artisan) Surplus ES5 27% - Middling; Some Surplus 25% (two families; two artisans; one merchant) ES6 30% - Poor 65% (4 families; 5 slaves of above families) ES7 25% - Very Poor

Table 1. Longenecker's Economy Scales and Description of Potential Number of Christ-group Members.

As the table demonstrates, a majority (82%) of Luke’s audience and indeed the urban population would be just above, at, or below ‘subsistence level (ES5-7). Christian communities during Paul’s lifetime were likely over-represented in the ‘below subsistence’ category compared to society at large. With these numbers in mind, we use the terms ‘very wealthy’ or ES1-3 to describe 3% of population, those having ‘moderate surplus wealth’ (ES4) are 15% of the population, those who survive at subsistence or just above it (ES5) are ‘middling’ with small amounts of surplus wealth; ‘poor’ (ES6) describes 30% of the population and survive just below but approaching subsistence; ‘very poor’ (ES7) describes 25% of the population.

We note that some ambiguity can occur in these scales. For example, ES4 has been split into ES4a to demonstrate someone who approaches decurion status which required 25,000 denarii in assets. The ES4b status falls closer to the ‘middling’ status than the ES4a. As Longenecker notes, the ES4 category is a “significantly elongated category” accounting for wealth approach decurion status (ES4a) or those approaching a stable income with more moderate surpluses (ES4b).93

91 Scheidel and Friesen, “Size of the Economy,” 63. See Brookins, Corinthian and Oakes, Romans for social makeup of the Corinthian Christ group and distribution of Pompeiian domestic space, respectively. 92 Longenecker, Remember, 295. 93 Longenecker, Remember, 55. 37

1.7.3 Conclusion: Improved Socio-Economic Profiling through Behaviors and Possessions

In sum, a fresh analysis of socio-economic markers within GLk and its audience is needed. Looking to move away from a lexically focused analysis on the one hand or a caloric intake focused profiling on the other, we aim to analyze behaviors which assume economic standing that are not normally analyzed as a part of wealth ethics. Analyzing the behavioral aspects of Luke’s characters and audience will push scholarship away from a caloric analysis to a more structurally comprehensive analysis which reflects daily life in the ancient Mediterranean. Because our passages assume who is poor and who is not, we must examine behavioral clues in our texts to determine the sort of social situation in which our characters might live. This will help drive specific exegetical benefits from a generalized economic picture.

New Testament scholarship, particularly Pauline scholarship, has successfully complicated the economic situations of the first century. Lukan scholarship has not followed suit, thus the need to inject economic scaling within Lukan scholarship.94 Pauline scholarship, however, is not without its flaws: determining one’s economic standing based on income and caloric expense cannot tell a complete picture of life in the first-century. Using Longenecker’s scales for economic strata whilst using possessions and behaviors as the determining factors for one’s economic situation will improve current scholarship and move in a profitable direction for Lukan studies and NT studies generally.

1.8 Prolegomena: Preliminary Issues Regarding the GLk

1.8.1 Authorship

This project refers to the author of Luke-Acts as “Luke.” The author’s literary style, family background, and ethnicity are all heavily debated. 95 The author’s identity is not critical for

94 Miller, Rumors helpfully fights against a binary conclusion in her own right but focuses on imperial power in GLk through a methodology which uses ‘hidden transcripts.’ 95 See L. Alexander, Acts in Its Ancient Literary Context (LNTS 298; New York: T&T Clark, 2005), 235; L. Nasrallah, “The Acts of the Apostles, Greek Cities, and Hadrian’s Panhellenion,” JBL 127 [2008]: 533-66); A. Hogeterp and A. Denaux, Semitisims in Luke’s Greek (WUNT 1.401; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018). For Luke as a God-fearing Gentile, see R. Pesch, Die Apostelgeschichte (2 vols; EKK 5; Neukirchen- Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1986), 1:27; Bovon, Luke, 1:8. But this assumes that God-fearers were religiously Jewish Gentiles, a thesis which is no longer accepted (see P. Fredrickson, Paul [New Haven: Yale University 38

this project. Nevertheless, fairly early traditions give some evidence that author GLk and Acts was called Luke.96 The ‘we’ passages give strong internal evidence that the author of Acts accompanied Paul during sections of his missionary journeys.97 The last two decades has seen the unity of Luke-Acts questioned by scholars in several ways, but the majority of scholars still view Luke-Acts as a two works in a unified whole.98 I use the term “Luke-Acts” when referring to the entire work to highlight common authorship which also acknowledges the audience of Acts knows and is familiar with GLk (e.g., Acts 1:1-4).

1.8.2 Bios and Biographical Historiography as Genre

Genre has some impact on circulation and thus Luke’s audience members. 99 I follow recent arguments which sees GLk as bios.100 Key to the genre of bios, and thus helpful for my exegetical framework, is the expectation of a wide circulation within a more generalized audience than the previously considered gospel ‘community’ whose needs Luke addresses.101

Press, 2017]). Ernst, Lukas, 31 sees affiliation to the Gentile Christ-group but does not mention God-fearers. For Luke as Jewish: J. Jervell, Die Apostelgeschichte (KEKNT 5; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 84-85; I. Oliver, Torah Praxis after 70CE (WUNT 2.355; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013); Wolter, Luke, 1:11; Levine and Witherington, Luke, 7: “could be a Diaspora Jew or a… ‘God-fearer’ before becoming Christian”. 96 Irenaeus, Haer. 3.1.1., 3.13.3, 1 Clem. 13:2; 48:4; 2 Clem. 13:4, Justin, Dial. 103.19, Tertullian, Marc. 4.2.2-5, Jejun. 10; Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 5.12.82.4; Eusebius, H.E. 3.4.2; The Muratorian Canon (II. 2-8) also lists Luke, the companion of Paul, as the author of the gospel and Acts (II. 34-39). 97 See esp. C. Rothschild, Luke-Acts and the Rhetoric of History, (WUNT 2.175; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004); L. Alexander, The Preface to Luke’s Gospel (SNTSMS 78; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 120-25; Keener, Acts, 3:2360-61. 98 See M. Parsons and R. Pervo, Rethinking the Unity of Luke and Act (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993); J. Verheyden, “The Unity of Luke-Acts: What Are We Up To?,” in The Unity of Luke-Acts, ed. J. Verheyden (BETL; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1999), 3-56; A. Gregory, The Reception of Luke and Acts in the Period Before Irenaeus (WUNT 2.169; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); M. Bird, “The Unity of Luke-Acts in Recent Discussion,” JSNT 29 (2007): 439-42; P. Walters, The Assumed Authorial Unity of Luke and Acts, (SNTSMS 145; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009); J. Verheyden “Luke and Acts—The Early Years: Some Comments in the Margin of a Recent Monograph,” in Rethinking the Unity and Reception of Luke and Acts, eds. A. Gregory and C. K. Rowe (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2010), 97-118; J. Green, “Luke-Acts or Luke and Acts? A Reaffirmation of Narrative Unity,” in Reading Acts Today, ed. Steve Walton, et al (New York: T&T Clark, 2011), 101-19. 99 For a survey and critique of current scholarship, see S. Adams, The Genre of Acts and Collected Biography, (SNTSMS 156; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013). 100 C. Talbert, Literary Patterns, Theological Themes, and the Genre of Luke-Acts (SBLMS; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1974) and What is a Gospel? (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977). Recent consensus was not formed until R. Burridge, What Are the Gospels, (SNTSMS 70; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 3-24. Recent examples of GLk as biography include D. Frickenschmidt, Evangelium als Biographie (TANZ 22; Tübingen: Francke, 1997); Radl, Lukas, 19 sides with Talbert (“Typ der hellenistischen Philosophenbiographien”); Klein, Lukasevangelium, 43-44; Parsons, Luke, 15-17. See further examples in S. Walton, “What Are the Gospels? Richard Burridge’s Impact on the Scholarly Understanding of the Genre of the Gospels” CurBR 14 (2015): 81-93. See critique of Talbert in Adams, Genre, 18-20. 101 For wide circulation of ancient biographies, see L. Alexander, “Ancient Book Production and the Circulation of the Gospels” in The Gospel for All Christians, ed. R. Burridge (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 71-112; R. Bauckham, “For Whom Were the Gospels Written?” in The Gospel for All Christians, ed. R. 39

Acts may have more historiographical elements than GLk, but biographical historiographies were also expected to circulate widely.102 Outside of these biography and historiography as genres for Acts, proposals of novel103 or epic104 have been largely dismissed.

A few problems limit our ability to delineate Acts any further than the general labels of historiography and biography. First, historiography and biography were commonly mixed during the first century CE which makes it more difficult to separate the two.105 Second, ancient biographies were fluid and could often include historiographical details depending on the author’s intent and the audience’s need. Third, and perhaps most simply, Acts contains both biographical qualities and historiographic qualities which may suggest either a blending of the two genres.106 Acts’ preface, various character’s speeches, geographic landscape, and first-person plural narration all appear in historiographic writings rather than biographies.107 Acts’ medium length, character-focused structure, and imitation or defense of those characters tend to appear in biographies or collected biographies.108 For these reasons, we consider GLk as bios and Acts as biographical historiography.

Luke’s choice of genre points to a general expected audience, but scholars tend to make Luke’s audience too generalized. This seems to stem from a wholesale rejection of specific communities in which certain gospels were written and to whom these gospels were addressed. We will seek to demonstrate that analyzing GLk from the perspective of real

Burridge (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 9-48; C. Keith, “Early Christian Book Culture,” in Mark, Manuscripts, and Monotheism, eds. D. Roth and C. Keith (London: T&T Clark, 2014), 22-39. 102 See elements of historiography in E.-M. Becker, “Historiographical Literature in the New Testament,” in Handbook for the Study of the Historical Jesus, eds. T. Holmen and S.E. Porter (4 vols; Leiden: Brill, 2011), 2:1787-1817; G. Sterling, Historiography and Self-Definition (NovTSup 64; Leiden: Brill, 1992; See esp. Adams, Genre, 5-22; T. Penner, In Praise of Christian Origins (New York: T&T Clark, 2004), 1-4. Cf. R. Burridge, “Genre of Acts,” in Reading Acts Today, ed. S. Walton (London: T&T Clark, 2011), 28 who sees Acts as bios. 103 Most notably R. Pervo, Profit with Delight (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987) who allows for more flexibility in Acts (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2009), 16-19 but does not see Acts as historiography. 104 M. Bonz, The Past as Legacy (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2000); D. MacDonald, Does the New Testament Imitate Homer? (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003); D. MacDonald, The Gospels and Homer (London: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015). MacDonald focuses on Greek literature while Bonz focuses on the Aeneid. Cf. Wolter, Lukasevangelium, 26: “Epoche aus der Geschichte Israels erzählt und damit zur historiographischen Gattung der ‘Epochengeschichten.’” Emphasis original. See Adams, Genre, 17: “These theories conflate content with formal structure [e.g, meter and grand scales]; shared content cannot determine genre when formal features are lacking.” 105 See Adams, Genre, 114 for examples. 106 T. E. Phillips, “The Genre of Acts: Moving Towards a Consensus?” CBR 4.3 (2006): 365-96. 107 Keener, Acts, 1:92-93, 115. 108 Adams Genre, 137-39, 167-70. 40

audience members will address this problem. To identify an audience near a proposed date of Luke-Acts’ composition and to narrow our scope, we will briefly consider the much- disputed date of Luke-Acts.

1.8.3 Date, Origin, and Provenance

Most scholars date the composition of GLk and subsequently Acts to 70-90CE.109 Five typical arguments are used for this position: (1) GLk is dependent on Mark which was written around 65-69CE; (2) Luke 21 depicts the fall of Jerusalem possibly as a fulfillment of Mark 13:14-23. If Luke 21 is fulfilling Mark 13, GLk was written after 70CE but before Josephus’ works were complete near the end of the first century CE; (3) GLk has an apparent lack of negativity towards the Roman Empire. Therefore, it may have been written between the reigns of Nero and Domitian during a time of relative peace towards Christians (ca. 69- 96CE); (5) Acts may be more concerned with a post-Pauline generation who did not know Paul. These arguments seem most convincing. With most scholars, we understand Acts’ completion to have happened sometime after the death of Paul while the need for an apologetic for Paul would be necessary, particularly around 80-85CE. GLk was probably written around 80-85CE with Acts written soon after.

Scholars have typically linked Luke’s audience with the provenance of GLk. In the past, this link demonstrated that Luke addressed needs particular to a single community.110 Using a method which reads the author’s emphases as the audience’s needs, interests, or Sitz im Leben often referred to as ‘mirror reading,’ scholars argue that Luke must be familiar with the needs of community to address them properly. Though this view does not hold the sway it once did, the places scholars point to and the methodology to determine provenance remain the

109 Maddox, Purpose, 23; Esler, Community, 27-29; Wiefel, Lukas, 5; F.F. Bruce, The Book of Acts (NICNT 5; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 6-13; Ernst, Lukas, 32; J. Fitzmyer, The Acts of the Apostles (AB 31; New York: Doubleday, 1998), 51-54; Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 85-86; L. T. Johnson, The Acts of the Apostles (SP; Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1992), 2-3; Witherington, Acts, 62; Bovon, Luke, 9; Radl, Lukas, 7; Klein, Lukasevangelium, 69; F. Dicken, “The Author and Date of Luke-Acts: Exploring the Options,” in Issues in Luke-Acts, ed. S. Adams and M. Pahl (Piscataway: Gorgias, 2012), 7-26; Wolter, Luke, 1:12. Cf. Keener, Acts 1:383-401. 110 L. T. Johnson, “On Finding the Lukan Community: A Cautious Cautionary Essay,” in SBLSP 1979, ed. P. Achtemeier (Missoula: Scholar’s Press, 1979), 87-100; D. Allison, “Was There a ‘Lukan Community’?” IBS 10 (1988): 63. I. du Plessis, “The Lukan Audience—Rediscovered? Some Reactions to Bauckham’s Theory,” Neot 34 (2000): 25; E. Klink III, “Conclusion: The Origin and Function of the Gospels in Early Christianity,” in The Audience of the Gospels, ed. E. Klink III (LNTS 353; London: T&T Clark, 2010), 153- 66. 41

same. First, Luke-Acts is mirror read for clues about Luke’s knowledge of cities or communities or clues about Luke’s own location. Two positions derive most of their evidence from this method. The first sees Luke writing in Rome during Paul’s imprisonment, largely stemming from Acts’ ending and patristic evidence.111 The second finds Luke in Philippi (or Macedonia generally) from the first occurrence of a ‘we’ passage and the Macedonian man in Paul’s vision.112 Others use this method looking for accurate descriptions of place in Acts. The concept of “local color” is especially important here, and Ephesus is usually chosen on such grounds.113 Second, scholars search the Pauline epistles and later traditions which leads them to favor Syrian Antioch114 or Corinth.115 Underlying these methodologies is a conflation of an intended audience, the author’s own knowledge, and the potential knowledge of Luke’s expected audience members. However, the above evidence might be pushed in a different direction. The “we” passages of Acts indicate the narrator’s presence during selected periods of Paul’s missionary journeys.116 Thus, it is more likely that Luke wrote his works in several

111 F. Foakes-Jackson and K. Lake, “The Internal Evidence of Acts,” in The Beginnings of Christianity, ed. F. Foakes-Jackson and K. Lake (London: Macmillan, 1922), 204; H. Conzelmann, “Luke’s Place in the Development of Early Christianity,” in Studies in Luke-Acts, ed. L. Keck and J. Louis-Martyn (Nashville: Abingdon, 1966), 298-316; Udo Schnelle, Einleitung in das Neue Testament (5th ed; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2005), 288; Hays, Wealth, 78. Evidence stems from (1) the ending of Acts where Paul awaits trial in Rome, and where Luke is with Paul (2 Tim 4:6, 11); (2) an early tradition that Luke wrote Rome in Jerome, Vir. ill. 7. 112 W. M. Ramsay, St. Paul the Traveler and Roman Citizen (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1897), 200-212; E. Renan, The Apostles, trans. J.H. Allen (Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1898), 7-11; J.H. Moulton and W.F. Howard, A Grammar of New Testament Greek. (London: T&T Clark, 1963), 19; P. Pilhofer, Philippi (Tübingen: Mohr, 1995), 248ff. For Macedonia, see Bovon, Luke, 1:7-8; Keener, Acts, 1:428; R. Fellows, “Name Giving by Paul and the Destination of Acts,” TynBul 67 (2016): 248-50. 113 Esler, Community, 30, 231; S. Witetschek, Ephesische Enthüllungen, (BiTS 6; Leuven: Peeters, 2008), 255-59; M. Parsons, Acts, Paideia (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008), 4; R. Pervo, “Acts in Ephesus (and Environs) c. 115,” Forum 4 (2015): 125-51. Evidence stems from (1) Ephesus receives the most attention in Acts; (2) Luke uses personal details when describing the Ephesian community which may mean he is a part of that community. Cf. H. Koester, “Ephesos in Early Christian Literature,” in Ephesos, ed. H. Koester (HTS 41; Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, 1995), 129-30. 114 G. Schneider, Die Apostelgeschichte, (HTKNT 5; Freiburg: Herder, 1980), 121; Fitzmyer, Luke 1:58; Nolland, Luke, 1:xxxix; Edwards, Luke, 12-13. Esler, Community, 29-30, 231 argues that Luke may have written from Syrian Antioch to an Ephesian community. Evidence rests on (1) the tradition that Luke hails from Antioch in Eusebius, H.E 3.4.2; (2) Theophilus was patron of the Antiochene community in Ps.-Clem., Rec. 10.71.2; (3) Codex Bezae inserts a “we” passage after Acts 11:27 which puts Luke in Antioch before other cities. See older bibliography in Foakes-Jackson and Lake, “The Internal Evidence of Acts.” and Plummer, Luke, xxi. 115 F. Godet, Commentary on Gospel of St. Luke, trans. E. Shalders and M. Cusin (New York: I.K. Funk, 1890), 548; B.H. Streeter, The Four Gospels (London: Macmillan, 1930), 150, 529. Luke’s connection with Corinth stems from (1) an early tradition linking Luke with “the brother” in 2 Cor 8:18 (e.g., Origen, Hom. Luc. 1; Jerome, Vir. ill. 7; Ambrose, Exp. Luc. 1.11; Gregory of Naziazus, Or. 32.11); (2) Luke’s activity in Achaea during the Pauline mission in Acts; and (3) a tradition linking Luke’s writing of the Gospel and eventual death with Achaea in Jerome, Comm. Matt. 1.2 (Achaea and Boetia). 116 With Plummer, Luke, xii; Sterling, Historiography, 392; F. Spencer, Acts (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 12-13; Fitzmyer, Acts, 50; Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 66; C. K. Barrett, Acts of the Apostles (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), xxv-xxix; Witherington, Acts, 480-86; D. Bock, Acts (BECNT; 42

different places, including the cities listed above, over the course of several years.117 It is not necessary to limit provenance to one city.

Importantly, linking GLk’s provenance and audience has not produced exegetical benefits. Parsons explicitly states that GLk’s provenance has no exegetical value.118 His comments are also not uncommon among recent commentators who do not see a need to locate Luke’s provenance.119 As stated above, Burridge and Bauckham’s theses have virtually eliminated in many scholars’ minds the need to locate GLk or Luke’s audience. These scholars have reacted too strongly. While a Lukan ‘community’ can no longer be sustained, the potential types of members within Luke’s expected audience can still be determined with some confidence. This will be addressed below in 1.9.5.

1.8.4 Luke’s Purposes and Audience Conflation

When scholars argue that Luke writes to a largely Christian audience, they see GLk legitimizing the Christ-movement and encouraging Christians to remain steadfast in their faith.120 When those outside Christ-groups are Luke’s target audience, GLk defends Christianity as trustworthy and believable to evangelize his audience.121 These purposes are possible, but the methodology used to determine relationships between author, text, and

Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 525; Keener, Acts, 407-9; Wolter, Luke, 1:9-10. cf. C. Keener, “First- Person Claims in Some Ancient Historians and Acts,” JGRChJ 10 (2014): 9-23. Parsons, Acts, 239-40 is more hesitant but acknowledges that narrator provides “additional authority.” 117 See interviewing witnesses in C. Hemer, The Book of Acts in the Setting of Hellenistic History, ed. C. Gempf (WUNT 49; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1988), 351; Rothschild, Rhetoric, 213-87; Keener, Acts, 1:183. 118 Parsons, Acts, 20; Parsons, Luke, 19. 119 Fitzmyer, Acts, 57: “anyone’s guess.” Cf. Verheyden, “Unity,” 30-33 and Smith, Why Βίος? (LNTS 518; London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2015), 157-60. 120 W. C. van Unnik, “The ‘Book of Acts’ the Confirmation of the Gospel,” NovT 4 (1960): 57-59. Cf. Green, Luke, 21-22. Johnson, Acts, 7-8; Plummer, Luke, xxxvi. See the previously popular political apologia in Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles, trans. B. Noble and G. Shinn (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1971); H. Cadbury, The Making of Luke-Acts (New York: Macmillian, 1927), 308, and H. Conzelmann, The Theology of St. Luke (New York: Harper & Row, 1960), 137. See bibliography and criticism in C. K. Barrett, Luke the Historian in Recent Study (London: Epworth, 1961), 63; S. Walton, “The State They Were in: Luke’s View of the Roman Empire,” in Rome in the Bible and the Early Church, ed. P. Oakes (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2002), 2-3; C. K. Rowe, World Upside Down (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 3-4; S. Kim, Christ and Caesar (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008); K. Yamazaki-Ransom, The Roman Empire in Luke’s Narrative (LNTS 404; London: T&T Clark, 2010); M. Kochenash, “Taking the Bad with the Good: Reconciling Images of Rome in Luke-Acts,” RelSRev 41.2 (2015): 43-51. Keener sees some political apologia present but does not limit Acts’ purpose to this. 121 J. C. O’Neill, The Theology of Acts in Its Historical Setting (London: SPCK, 1961), 176; I. Howard Marshall, Acts (TNTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 21; Bruce, Acts, 6. 43

audience that lurk behind these conversations is flawed. An author’s purpose does not need to arise from a crisis or need within the audience. This is especially the case with bioi as above. As this project will argue, Luke’s intended audience shapes some of his purposes for the text, but these purposes would not solely arise from an expected audience beyond the text.122

Perhaps sensing the tension between Luke’s intended audience within his own mind and the expected audience members beyond the text, an increasing number of scholars conclude that Luke’s audience includes some combination of Christians and non-Christians which includes threads of both legitimating and evangelistic purposes.123 For example, R. Maddox argues that Luke-Acts both explains the Christ event within Judaism to interested parties and reassures Christian teachings to Christians, and P. Esler states that GLk legitimizes the move from Judaism to Christianity in a post-synagogue time.124 C. Keener argues that GLk contains a general apologia to a Christian audience, a legitimation of the Pauline legacy amongst a Christian audience, an apologia to Roman officials, and an evangelizing purpose to pagans.125 Keener’s conclusions reveal that Luke uses several intertwined purposes for his audience which composed of people from different cultic allegiances. His multivalent conclusion also reveals the weakness in constructing Luke-Acts’ audience from any perceived purpose derived from a mirror reading.

Discussing use of wealth as a key purpose in GLk will demonstrate further this conflation of purpose and audience. Use of wealth has long been recognized as a key theme throughout Luke-Acts.126 Some scholars argue that Luke’s purpose was determined by his audience’s social realities. For example, Stegemann describes Luke as “the evangelist of the rich and

122 With Parsons, Luke, 16-18. 123 Nolland, Luke, 1:xxxii; Edwards, Luke, 13-14; M. Hengel, The Four Gospels and the One Gospel of Jesus Christ, trans. J. Bowden (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 2000), 100-101. Keener, Acts, 1:444- 49 for legitimatizing and 1:223-224 for “Christian concerns raised by Jewish detractors, of relevance to their own current situation vis-à-vis Rome,” (223). Cf, Strauss, “Purpose” 149-50. Cf. G. Sterling, Luke-Acts and Apologetic Historiography (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989) who argues the audience is the Greco-Roman world rather than Christians. 124 Maddox, Purpose, 181-84; Esler, Community, 45. 125 Keener, Acts, 1:449-51. He notes that Luke-Acts contains “too much defense of Christians before authorities for his primary interest to be the defense of authorities,” (444). 126 See bibliography and summaries in Esler, Community, 164-200; G. Forbes, The God of Old (JSNTSupS 198; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 231-33; Phillips, “Issues of Wealth and Poverty”; J. Metzger, Consumption and Wealth in Luke’s Travel Narrative, (BI 88; Leiden: Brill, 2007); Hays, Wealth, 3- 23. 44

respected (Angesehenen),” seeking the repentance of the rich in the community.127 For Stegemann, the rich and poor in the Christ-groups have some conflict which Luke addresses by pressing the rich to have solidarity with the poor. Similarly, Esler sees the GLk as addressing an on-going conflict between the very rich and desperately poor in the Christ- groups.128 Both approaches conflate an author’s potential purpose with the socio-economic state of the expected audience beyond the text. Certain purposes in GLk may describe an intended audience as both are products of Luke’s mind, but these purposes cannot describe in detail the possible conflicts of an expected audience beyond Luke’s mind.129 A more convincing argument is that Luke emphasizes Jesus’ Jewish wealth ethics which are rooted in the love of God and neighbor to explain to a Gentile audience how they might fulfill the Jewish Law.130 Thus, use of wealth as a purpose in GLk explains what love of God and neighbor means in concrete terms to Luke’s intended audience.

Importantly, this conclusion does not determine how Luke’s expected audience may have understood Luke’s wealth ethics.131 Instead, utilizing a more specific expected audience will shed light on a possible intended audience rather than vice versa.

To summarize, three prevailing theories shifted scholarship away from locating a specific audience for Luke-Acts: (1) a general audience for the Gospel writings stemming from Bauckham’s thesis; (2) a movement away from a mirror-reading method for gospel communities stemming from Johnson’s thesis (3); and the genre of the gospels as bioi which expects a wide circulation among several communities stemming from Burridge’s thesis. 132

127 W. Stegemann, “The Following of Christ as Solidarity between Rich, Respected Christians and Poor, Despised Christians” in L. Schottroff and W. Stegemann, eds. Jesus and the Hope of the Poor, trans. M. O’Connell (Mary Knoll: Orbis, 1986), 91. Cf. E. Stegemann and W. Stegemann, The Jesus Movement, trans. O.C. Dean, Jr. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999), 304. 128 Esler, Community, 164-90 of beggars and elites. Kim, Stewardship, 50 follows Esler. Similarly, H. Moxnes, “The Social Context of Luke’s Community,” Int 48 (1994): 371-89. R. Rohrbaugh, “The Jesus Tradition: The Gospel Writers’ Strategies of Persuasion,” in The Early Christian World, ed. P. Esler (New York: Routledge, 2000), 223 argues the gospels address the “urban elite.” Stegemann and Stegemann, Movement, 304 do not see elites or beggars in Luke’s audience. R. Burridge, “About People, by People, for People: Gospel Genre and Audiences,” in Gospel for All Christians, ed. R. Bauckham (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 113-45 sees “middle of the scale” based on Luke’s language. 129 Contra Kim, Stewardship, 43 who sees Theophilus as an “intended audience” member par excellence and Levine and Witherington, Luke, 8-9. 130 Cf. Hays, Wealth. 131 No mention of socio-economic status in GLk’s audience in Hays, Wealth, 78-79. 132 The major German commentaries (Eckey, Klein, Radl) do not interact with Bauckham until Wolter. None interact with Burridge. 45

Though these arguments are convincing, more can be said about Luke’s audience in light of these three theories.

1.8.5 Luke’s Expected Audience: First-Century Christ-Groups

Luke’s intended and expected audience was certainly comprised of Jews, Gentiles, Christ- followers, and other interested parties, but this information is hardly enough to detail specifics of Luke’s audience. Rather than travel down the same paths in previous scholarship, we should use a fresh methodology. As argued above, GLk circulated amongst first-century Christ-groups throughout the ancient Mediterranean. 133 We can narrow this down to cities with (1) a well-documented Christian presence before the end of the second century CE; (2) Christ-groups reflected in Acts and Pauline epistles; (3) some amount of difference including local culture, material evidence, and geographic distance. These criteria yield Rome, Corinth, Ephesus, Philippi, and Thessaloniki as possible cities. Scholars have focused heavily on Rome in previous scholarship134 which leaves a gap this project can fill. Corinth and Ephesus both have a Christ-groups in Acts and have Pauline letters attesting to their presence a generation earlier. Philippi and Thessaloniki are close geographically and culturally; they share a similar cultural heritage and belong to the senatorial province of Macedonia. Thessaloniki’s population size and social importance is more comparable to Ephesus and Corinth than Philippi. Choosing Thessaloniki also adds the benefit of analyzing only provincial capitals: Thessaloniki of Macedonia, Corinth of Achaia, and Ephesus of Asia.

Analyzing Luke-Acts in three cities will clarify an expected audience, but this audience still runs the risk of being too general with little exegetical pay off. To combat this generalization, we will consider Luke’s text and Luke’s audience not only in geographical terms but in socio- economic terms which we will detail in the following chapter.

133 See the classic studies in R. MacMullen, Roman Social Relations (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974); W. Meeks, The First Urban Christians (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983). Meeks has updated his thesis slightly in W. Meeks, “Taking Stock and Moving On,” in After the First Urban Christians, ed. T. Still and D.G. Horrell (New York: T&T Clark, 2009), 134-46. S. Tsang, From Slaves to Son (SBL 81; New York: Peter Lang, 2005), 160 argues that a rural mission would prove difficult and would be unlikely to yield many convents, but M. Moreland, “The Galilean Response to Earliest Christianity: A Cross-Cultural Study of the Subsistence Ethic,” in Religion and Society in Roman Palestine, ed. D. Edwards (New York: Routledge, 2004) studied a rural Galilean population’s reaction to Jesus’ teachings. T. Robinson, Who Were the First Christians? (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017) is too late for our purposes. 134 See n.117. 46

1.9 Project Delimitations

Some necessary limitations are needed to narrow this project. To limit our focus to Lukan scholarship, only the uniquely Lukan materials containing Jesus’ teachings will be considered. Because this project looks for a reaction to Luke’s work in his expected audience, parables were selected as the text to be analyzed for their short, memorable and complete narratives with an ethical teaching (see 2.4). Parables also contain many socio-economic markers of daily life such as clothing, travel, farms, food, hunger, landownership, and inheritance. As a type of story meant to reverberate within first-century life, these socio- economic markers ground this project in the significance that possessions and behaviors might have in the parables and in Luke’s audience. To summarize, we have selected passages that contain the following criteria: (1) unique Lukan material; (2) parables that contain either an ethical thrust with an imperative for a character in the narrative or a model for the reader to follow (e.g., exemplum); (3) contain measurable possessions, behaviors, or teachings on wealth.

Part of the benefit of this project seeks to demonstrate that socio-economic readings of text can occur in less obvious parables than those with explicitly socio-economic lexemes or thrusts. The Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, and the Tax Collector and the Pharisee were chosen as examples of parables that Lukan socio-economic scholarship has not normally considered. The advantage in choosing these parables lies in demonstrating the possibility of socio-economic analysis throughout Luke-Acts. For some balance, Dives135 and Lazarus has been included as it is the starkest example of socio-economic disparity in GLk. Finally, the Clever Steward is also included to shed further light on the use and role of wealth in a parable famously difficult to apply to any audience.

1.10 Summary and Conclusion

This chapter sought to identify gaps that this project seeks to address. The history of scholarship section detailed how scholars have built the wrong type of lenses to analyze socio- economic data in GLk and the first-century. These lenses occasionally omit key data; Greco-

135 Latin term for ‘rich’ (Dives) is used to differentiate between this character and the other rich characters in GLk. See Bovon, Luke, 2:479-80 for a history of this and other names for the character. 47

Roman sources, scholarship about daily life, and the Roman empire’s economics were all missing from Jeremias’ influential work. Previous scholars have also privileged certain evidence that may not have relevance for Luke’s audience. Scholars represented by Jeremias, Hays, and Balch have used primarily elite literary sources which skews results away from the cultural context of Luke’s audience. The focus on sectarian conflict represented by Esler and Oakman does not allow for socio-economic analysis of other socio-economic markers like behavior and possessions. Scholars represented by Oakman and Portefaix utilize class analysis, but ancient class did not exist in the first century. These issues will be addressed by using socio-economic scaling in our exegesis, privileging non-elite evidence within the urban centers of the Greek East, and assigning socio-economic statuses to our characters and audience members to reflect first-century life.

Further, some scholars represented by Esler and Hays have focused too insularly on lexical data to determine socio-economic status. This gap will be addressed by using socio-economic scaling and calculating socio-economic status through behaviors and possessions in chapter 4. These calculations will then be viewed from the perspective of Luke’s audience by utilizing characters with different socio-economic statuses who were likely to have been in Luke’s audience in chapter 5. Third, some scholars represented by Hays have miscalculated the socio-economic markers of possessions. To address this gap, this project will detail the economic cost and social value of behaviors and possessions in chapter 4. Finally, there was a general conflation between a historical referent in GLk, the narrative audience in the text, and the audience listening to GLk. Each group had a different life setting and conflation leads to less relevant evidence for exegesis. The methodology for this project addresses this gap in chapter 2 by separating audiences.

The economy scales used in this project were then summarized. ES1-3 were very wealthy elites whilst ES4 enjoyed a moderate surplus. The ES5 enjoyed some surplus whilst ES6-7 were considered impoverished. Rather than place persons onto the scale based on their income or access to calories like Longenecker and Friesen, this project proposed measuring possessions and behaviors as socio-economic markers more relevant to GLk and the audience members.

Finally, the prolegomenon of GLk was discussed. Written around 80-85CE, the GLk falls into the bios genre which was expected to circulate within first-century Christ-groups throughout the ancient Mediterranean. Narrowing down an audience within the Christ- groups of Corinth, Thessaloniki, and Ephesus helped address a gap in scholarship which focused largely on Rome for expected circulation.

Chapter 2: Methodology

2.1 Theoretical Foundations for Separating Audiences of Luke-Acts

Before describing a practical method of interpretation, we must defend its theoretical background for using the social contexts of an audience to aid in the interpretation of a text. First, analyzing of GLk within a well-defined social context places limits on the possible interpretations of the text to help frame exegetical meanings.136 Second, Luke’s audience members must have created meaning within their own contexts, and that meaning would have differed at least slightly from other members depending on their social contexts.137 Using different geographic locations, cultural backgrounds, genders, and socio-economic status will help tease out these possible differences in interpretation. Finally, identifying an audience member’s interpretive context explores how that type of member may have responded to texts. Using different socio-economic markers in Luke’s text and socio-economic statuses in Luke’s audience enables this project to measure social contexts in a somewhat less abstract way than previous scholarship.

This method attempts to move from that which exists but cannot be demonstrated with our current evidence—real readers—to what may have existed but can be demonstrated with our current evidence—expected audience members. We seek to move from a broad and stereotyped audience construction of Jewish and Gentile members who are generally Christian to a specific audience of a Corinthian domestic slave, a wealthy Macedonian woman, and a middling Ephesian artisan. The following section sets out the relationship

136 This approach fits nicely with an understanding of language as a social phenomenon in which several cultural aspects including the author’s choice of words and the audience’s social contexts interact to produce meaning. This is a Hallidayian view of language present in sociostylistics and sociolinguistics in which language “transforms experience and interpersonal relationships into linguistic meaning,” M. Halliday and M. Matthiessen, Halliday’s Introduction to Functional Grammar (4th ed.; London: Routledge, 2014), 43. For an example of sociolinguistics in Lukan studies, see T. Klutz, The Exorcism Stories in Luke-Acts (SNTSMS 129; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 15-81, esp. context of culture on 61. 137 For differing communities creating meaning, see S. Fish, Is There a Text in This Class? (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980) though Fish undervalues the role of the text itself. See critiques of Fish and relationships between the text and the reader in J. Darr, On Character Building (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1992); Klutz, Exorcism, 17ff; Metzger, Consumption, 31-46. 50

between the historical referent, author, text, and various audiences, and how these categories are helpful for exegesis.138

At its simplest, the author-text-audience relationship is linear: the author composes a text which an audience consumes either aurally or visually. Commentators most often use the author-text-audience construction: Luke, the author, writes the text of GLk, either physically or through an amanuensis, to an audience of Gentile and Jewish Christ-followers.139 Yet this relationship is too broad and simplistic to account for the variety of listeners beyond the text; this type of “audience” includes first-century Christ-groups and 21st century Christ-groups. The categories below are based on common narratological categories employed by NT scholars, but we use our own terminology to avoid confusion with other authors’ categories which may or may not overlap with ours.

2.1.1 The Historical/Original Audience

The category of historical audience, occasionally called an “original audience” or “first audience,” refers to an audience behind the text to whom Jesus originally spoke.140 In other words, it is the historical referent to which the text points. The original audience is perhaps the most discussed audience but is limiting exegetically in several ways. First, the dialogue and events in GLk cannot exist outside the text; it belongs to Luke’s text which he shaped and colored according to his own interests, intended audience, and potential patronage.141 This does not mean that Jesus did not tell this parable or that its historicity is lost, but that an objective exploration of the reality behind these parables which ignores Lukan themes,

138 See a summary of narratological categories in M. Fludernik, An Introduction to Narratology, transl. P. Haüsler-Greenfield and M. Fludernik (London: Routledge, 2009), 13-39; M. Bal, Narratology (4th ed.; Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2017), 11-65. 139 See a helpful diagram with a critique of various terminology in H. Shaw, “Why Won’t Our Terms Stay Put? The Narrative Communication Diagram Scrutinized and Historicized” in A Companion to Narrative Theory, eds. J. Phelan and P.J. Rabinowitz (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005), 299-311. Scholars have used the category of “implied author” with some success, e.g., W. Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1993); V. Robbins, “The Social Location of the Implied Author of Luke-Acts” in The Social World of Luke- Acts, ed. J. Neyrey (Peabody: Hendrickson, 1991), 305-32. However, the concept is contested in narratological scholarship. See T. Kindt and H.-H. Müller, The Implied Author (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2006) and M. Dinkler, Silent Statements (BZNW 191; Berlin: De Gruyter, 2013), 3. 140 E.g., B. Scott Hear then a Parable (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 103; Bailey, Poet, 204 on the prodigal son’s audiences. Cf. Zimmerman, Parables, 99-100. 141 B. Gerhardsson, “If We Do Not Cut the Parables Out of Their Frames,” NTS 37 (1991): 321-28. 51

language, and narrative asides is impossible.142 Second, it is not clear where the historical audience and the audience within the narrative (see 2.1.3) intersect, overlap, or diverge because the text, with its own purposes and priorities, is our only access to these events. J. Green acknowledges this problem but embraces the tension: “The approach adopted here [=narrative criticism] necessarily blurs the distinction between the world of the text and the world behind the text, for it treats the text itself… as an object of historical interest.”143 Third, the category of an original audience removes contextual markers from GLk and places them in altogether context which may mask some of Luke’s purposes in writing the text.144 For these reasons, the category of an original audience is unhelpful for this project.

2.1.2 The Intended Audience

The intended audience is the author’s conception of his audience members. These audience members exist only in Luke’s mind behind the text. Scholars construct these audience members from key elements within the text which are then mapped onto corresponding elements within the first-century world. A close reading of the themes, emphases, repetitions, and vocabulary of Luke’s text, it is argued, sheds light on this audience. There are two main problems with this approach: (1) the intended audience is constructed in the author’s mind.145 The intended audience is not a material audience but Luke’s cognitive portrait of real audience members which contain generalities (e.g., rich and poor, Jew and Gentile, men and women) and specificities (e.g., a Corinthian Christ-group member, non-Jewish patron in Ephesus, conflicts in Macedonian Christ-groups); (2) an intended audience affects the author and the framing of the text but do not affect real audience members. In other words, key texts can potentially describe Luke’s intentions to his audience but can only give vague ideas about his audience.

Luke’s intended audience, therefore, will contain elements which frame but also limit exegetical work. For example, Luke’s intended audience members probably included the rich,

142 See recently on the process of writing the gospels, their sources, and their reception of those sources and purposes, F. Watson, Gospel Writing (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, 2013). 143 Green, Luke, 19. Emphasis mine. 144 See L. Thurén, Parables Unplugged (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), 22-50. Cf. M. Dinkler, “New Testament Rhetorical Narratology: An Invitation towards Integration” BibInt 24 (2016): 203-28 demonstrates how narratology and authorial purpose via rhetoric of the text can be used in tandem. 145 With Wolter, Luke, 1:25-26; Parsons, Luke, 16-17 52

poor, Christ-followers, men, women, Godfearers, pagans, and Jews. This intended audience (the imagined construct that affects themes, vocabulary, and narrative) must remain vague to us, because it is derived from and limited to information stemming from the text. Exegesis utilizing real audience members is not possible within this category.

Here we should note some scholars have focused on Theophilus as an intended audience member and dedicand.146 Recent research shows that Theophilus, as a literary patron, would not understand a bios to be composed with only him in mind.147 Further, Theophilus probably fits the category of narratee, a character within the text who is addressed by the narrator, more readily than an intended audience member.148 Theophilus is not an exclusive intended audience, and Luke did not write Luke-Acts with solely him in mind.149

2.1.3 The Narrative Audience

Because of its popularity in Lukan scholarship, we should briefly mention the narrative audience. The narrative audience exists within the text itself. For example, the parable of the clever steward begins with Jesus addressing his disciples (ἔλεγεν δὲ καὶ πρὸς τοὺς μαθητάς, 16:1). Here the disciples are the narrative audience for the following story. When exegesis begins, some scholars tend to blend the narrative audience with a historical audience. Narrative scholars will rely on evidence local to Judea or Galilee, for example, to describe the narrative’s plot, characters, and scenes. Such blending can be conscious like J. Green’s statement above. Though the narrative audience only exists within the text, a real reader outside the text may insert themselves into the position of the characters within the narrative, so that the reader outside the text becomes, in effect, the disciples listening to Jesus’ story.150

146 Kim, Stewardship, 36-44. Cf. F. Downing, “Theophilus’s First Reading of Luke-Acts” in Luke’s Literary Achievement, ed. C. Tuckett (JSNTSupS 116; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995), 91-109. 147 See especially Alexander, Preface, 73-75; Adams, “Preface,” 183; Smith, Bios, 51-53. 148 With Green, Luke, 34-35. Kurz, Reading, 42 sees Theophilus within both audiences. 149 Alexander, Preface, 187, 191; Esler, Community, 24; Adams, “Preface,” 185. 150 P. Rabinowitz, Before Reading (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1987); Kurz, Reading, 102-3; P. Spencer, Rhetorical Texture and Narrative Trajectories of the Lukan Galilean Ministry Speeches (LNTS 341; London: T&T Clark, 2007), 28-44. 53

2.1.4 The Expected Audience

Narratology, “as a branch of structuralism looking at narrative as an idealized scientific object… is uninterested in the historical and social contexts in which narrative functions and is presented.”151 As a way to account for social and historical context that narratological categories lack, we utilize “expected audience” as our category that lies in front of or beyond the text. The key difference between the intended audience and expected audience is that expected audience members are material persons consuming GLk. Expected audience members may or may not have characteristics of the intended audience; intended audience members are Luke’s idea of an audience rather than the audience members themselves. Luke expects that these members will read his work, but Luke does not shape his work with such people in mind. For example, one might compose a text book on cultural anthropology with the intended audience of undergraduate students. The intended audience shapes the vocabulary and nature of the content communicated in the text; for example, a certain register might be used for this audience. At the same time, the author expects that others outside his core intended audience may read the book: professors of cultural anthropology and those interested in cultural anthropology generally are expected audience members. The author expects these members to read the textbook, but they do not shape the presentation of the material.

The expected audience can overlap with the intended audience as in our analogy. An overlapping audience would be undergraduate students with a general interest in cultural anthropology. Most authors write a work knowing that others outside their intended audience will read the work. Luke is no different; he would expect that those outside his core intended audience will interact with Luke-Acts.

Theoretically, the category of ‘expected audience’ limits historical contexts to certain places and times in which GLk is likely to have been consumed. Methodologically, looking beyond the text roots exegesis in socio-cultural and socio-economic context when compared to a

151 E. Bakker, “Homer, Odysseus, and the Narratology of Performance,” in Narratology and Interpretation, eds. J. Grethlein and A. Rengakos (Berlin: De Gruyer, 2009), 117. 54

possible reality behind the text. Practically, an expected audience grounds exegesis in material persons, making exegetical payoff less abstract.

2.1.5 Summary and Conclusion

This section described above the theoretical framework for this project. It aims to ground exegesis in the material lives of an expected audience, limiting exegetical possibilities within lived experiences. In doing so, we shed light on possible purposes and intentions by viewing the GLk through types of audience members likely to have been in first-century Christ- group. Because expected audience members are utilized for this project, “audience members” will henceforth denote an expected audience member unless otherwise stated.

We can now move into an explanation of our socio-economic methodologies. This project attempts to develop a fresh way to analyze socio-economic material that has more sensitivity to first-century life in urban centers like Corinth, Ephesus, and Thessaloniki. Both methodology for analyzing economics in GLk and the dataset needs retooling. Focusing on behaviors and possessions as economic markers will yield more varied results in step with life in the first-century. After detailing this method, a description of the social setting of the Christ-group in which GLk would be read and the potential Jewish cultic knowledge available to Luke’s audience will follow. Finally, the three selected audience members will be constructed through strategic choices to maximize exegetical benefit and remain within the realm of historic possibility. Geographic, economic, and cultural differences will contribute towards a picture of the types of audience members Luke would have expected to read his work. This method has the added benefit of correcting a narratology tendency to remove social contexts from analysis. Finally, this project’s framework will be summarized.

2.2 Constructing Socio-Economic Profiles: Types of Evidence

2.2.1 Privileging the Evidence of Material Culture

As stated in chapter 1, material culture is privileged over literary evidence.152 We are interested in looking at Luke’s parables from a non-elite perspective, and literary culture

152 With, e.g., J. Meggitt, “Sources: Use, Abuse, Neglect. The Important of Ancient Popular Culture” in Christianity at Corinth, eds. E. Adams and D. Horrell (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2004), 241-55. 55

contains more about elite culture than is useful for our purposes. However, we cannot avoid using elite literature completely. In some cases, like the clever steward (3.4.3.2), evidence stems largely from elite literature because only elites or sub-elites were the most likely to have stewards. Still, we will rely on inscriptions and papyri when possible. When elite literature is used, it is not treated as a neutral work.

2.2.2 Using the Evidence of Acts for Character Profiles

When composing profiles of the types of audience members Luke expected to read his work, I will draw from the types of characters mentioned in Acts. The socio-economic shape of the profiles will not stem directly from the literary evidence in Acts, and I am not suggesting that Acts demonstrates conclusively that the mentioned characters are historically representative of the kinds of persons that Paul interacted with on his journeys.153 In other words, this project describes characters in different socio-economic strata in first-century urban populations rather than characters within a narrative.

We treat Acts as primary evidence for different socio-economic levels associated with the Christ-movement for two reasons. First, Acts appears to present realistic character types that would have been likely to interact with and be affected by the early Christ-movement. Second, the socio-economic levels constructed in Pauline scholarship’s profiling of urban Christ-groups maps on rather nicely to most of the characters in Acts.154

2.2.3 Calculating Possessions and Behaviors: Diocletian’s Price Edict

To supplement what little material evidence survives, scholars commonly use the extant material from Diocletian’s Price Edict (henceforth PE) in the late 3rd/early 4th century.155 The

153 Contra scholarship that begins constructing a socio-economic profiling of early Christian groups from NT evidence before moving to the wider Mediterranean evidence, e.g., A. Weiß, Soziale Elite und Christentum (MST 52; Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015) who makes this same move with some nuance. 154 See Longenecker, Remember, 220-58. Some debate still exists over the identity of elite members in Acts. See Weiß, Elite for arguments of elites in Christ-groups. 155 Base text found in S. Lauffer, ed., Diokletians Preisedikt (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1971) supplemented with the more recent M. Groen-Vallinga and L. Tacoma, “The Value of Labour: Diocletian’s Prices Edict,” in Work, Labour, and Professions in the Roman World, ed. K. Verboven and C. Laes (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 104- 32. 56

PE lists the maximum payment for various jobs and commodities in an unsuccessful attempt to curb inflation.

The PE contains very detailed lists of prices for commodities and wages and so is very helpful for constructing socio-economic profiles. Some caution concerning the use of PE should be noted. The PE failed almost immediately because traders did not observe the prices set forth in the edict.156 Instead of calculating definitive costs, the edict’s value lies in the value placed on the jobs and commodities themselves rather than the real wages earned. Rather than determining an exact number of denarii one might use to purchase something, we instead can use the PE to determine how many days a low-earner would have to work to afford certain items. Because the wages and cost of items in the PE is consistent within its time frame, it sheds light on both the cost of items for the poor and the value given to jobs themselves.

Using the later evidence of the PE for first-century profiling requires adjusting for inflation. Rather than import the wages and prices back into the first century, we will use the PE to determine how many days an average worker might have worked to buy some item. In the PE, the lowest paid jobs, shepherds, farm laborers, and other laborers, earned 25 denarii a day including food.157 Thus, 25 denarii a day becomes a type of minimum wage like our period’s day wage of 1 denarius or 1 drachma though some ancient laborers, as with current laborers, could earn less than the minimum wage of 1 denarius per day.158 For simplicity’s sake, 1 denarius/drachma will be the first-century daily wage in this project. To account for inflation in the PE, we will divide most commodities by the minimum daily salary (25) to arrive at days worked. The days worked will be represented with PEw, where the w represents “wages.” To illustrate: one pound of brass costs 100 denarii in the PE. If a minimum wage worker who earns 25 denarii a day were to buy this item, they would need to work 4 days to earn 100 denarii. This, 4 PEw represents days labored. When moved back into the first- century, 4 PEw as a monetary amount is represented by 4 denarii. Because we do not seek to

156 R. Kent, “The Edict of Diocletian Fixing Maximum Prices,” UPaLRev 69 (1920): 39. 157 Cited in J. Toner, Popular Culture in Ancient Rome (Cambridge: Polebridge, 2009), 19-21. One could not afford grain for a family of four never mind afford rent, metal, oil, wine, clothes, or other items (20). 158 See J. Kloppenborg, The Tenants in the Vineyard (WUNT 195; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 435 for 3rd/4th century BCE examples. 57

construct exact calculations for items, the PE will help construct price ranges by documenting the price differences between, for example, good wine and the best wine.

2.3 Socio-Economic Profiling of the Christ-Group Member’s Environment

2.3.1 Socio-Economic and Socio-Spatial Dimensions of Christ-Group Meetings

GLk was read to Christ-group members during a meeting in a member’s house, a rented space, or a public space with the first option as the most likely candidate.159 These house- church meetings resemble voluntary associations in that honorary titles, patrons, benefactors, clients, funds for burial, care for poorer members, communal meals, and a patron deity would all be present.160 The group’s patron or benefactor, probably the highest ES member, provided a space for the meeting and would probably defray some costs associated with the meeting.161 Similar to other associations, the Christ-group reciprocated in granting honor to benefactors, founding deities or heroes in various ways.162 The group members may have competed amongst themselves in seeking to generate honor for the group.163 The group afforded those of lower social status opportunities to generate honor within the group in

159 See a summary of scholarship in A. Weissenrieder, “Architecture: Where Did Pauline Communities Meet?” in Paul and Economics, eds. R. Pickett and T. Blanton IV (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2017), 125-54. Previous important studies are Oakes, Romans; E. Adams, The Earliest Christian Meeting Places (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2013). Y. Park, Paul’s Ekklesia as a Civic Assembly (WUNT 2.393; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015) argues the Pauline ekklesia was a public, civic activity helpfully emphasizing the political nature of an ekklesia but see nuances of first-century use in R. Horner, The Origin and Meaning of Ekklēsia in the Early Jesus Movement (Leiden: Brill, 2017). If Horner and Park are correct that each city had several Christ-groups but only one ekklesia, then further hierarchy of persons and groups may be meant. 160 Similarities are not limited to Greco-Roman collegia but extend to the Jewish diaspora. See J.R. Harrison, “The First Urban Churches: Introduction,” in First Urban Churches, ed. J.R. Harrison and L.L. Welborn (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 1-40 and the discussions and responses in R. Ascough, “Paul, Synagogues, and Associations: Reframing the Question of Models for Pauline Christ Groups,” JJMJS 2 (2015): 27-52; R. Korner, “Ekklēsia as a Jewish Synagogue Term: Some Implications for Paul’s Socio-Religious Location,” JJMJS 2 (2015): 53-78 and the discussion generated: E. Gruen, “Synagogues and Voluntary Associations as Institutional Models: A Response to Richard Ascough and Ralph Korner,” JJMJS 3 (2016): 125-31; R. Ascough, “Methodological Reflections on Synagogues and Christ Groups as ‘Associations’: A Response to Erich Gruen,” JJMJS 4 (2017): 118-26; R. Korner, “Ekklēsia as a Jewish Synagogue Term: A Response to Erich Gruen,” JJMJS 4 (2017): 127-36. On communal meals, see D. Smith, From Symposium to Eucharist (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003). 161 By “patron” or “benefactor,” we are describing euergetism which was popular in the Greek East rather than the Roman patroclinium. See arguments in J. Marshall, Jesus, Patrons, and Benefactors (WUNT 2.259; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009); Hays, Wealth, 58-62. 162 Of the many recent studies on this and differentiating terminology, see J. Chow, Patronage and Power (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992); A. Clarke, Secular and Christian Leadership in Corinth (Leiden: Brill, 1993); see R. Last, The Pauline Church and the Corinthian Ekklēsia (SNTSMS 164; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). 163 See esp. Last, Church, 163-82. 58

ways not usually possible in larger society. Even if, as some scholars have argued, Luke intends to depict the Christ-group as egalitarian, we should also note that with Oakes, “however far down the social spectrum we go, we keep finding social hierarchies.”164 Within the group, then, are different economic statuses, and a social hierarchy within the group which probably sees the highest ES members as the group’s patronal host.

2.3.2 Socio-Economic Contexts of Domestic Spaces in the Greek East

Because this project focuses on material remains when available, domestic spaces in Thessaloniki, Corinth, and Ephesus will be used to explore common uses of wealth in the ancient Mediterranean. This section will argue that domestic spaces generate honor for the householder and are material examples of the type of uses of wealth that GLk’s ethics can address. It does not argue that these householders were members of the local Christ-group, but that a brief overview of the terrace houses will produce insight into how the elite managed their wealth. 165

Ephesus retains some material remains of the wealthy from the first-century CE. The famous terrace houses, also called slope houses (Hanghäuser) belonged to the local elites. The two blocks of terrace housing, called terrace house I and II, date to the first century BCE.166 The terrace houses were insulae rather than one house (domus); that is, they are city blocks which contain multi-story dwellings in which multiple families lived. These houses are just off ancient Ephesus’ main street, Curetes street, in a very prominent area. We know at least two owners who lived in the insula: C. Flavius Furius Aptus, a priest of Dionysius and perhaps a priest within the Emperor cult,167 and C. Vibius Salutaris, a Roman equestrian and member

164 Oakes, Romans, 92. 165 Oakes, Romans, 70ff for arguments against elite housing as assumed Christ-group meeting spaces whilst retaining the possibility of a local elite house. 166 G. Wiplinger and G. Wlach, Ephesus (Vienna: Böhlau, 1996), 89. 167 IvE 1267 as priest of Dionysos; IvE 502, 1099 as an alytarch, the presider over the city’s games; perhaps IvE 834 as neokoros. See E. Rathmayr, “The Significant of Sculptures with Associated Inscriptions in Private Houses in Ephesos, Pergamon, and Beyond,” in Inscriptions in the Private Sphere in the Greco-Roman World, eds. R. Benefiel, et al (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 150. Of the possible neokoros inscription, Rathmayr (153) writes: “[C. Flavius Furius Aptus is] very like also named neokoros in a text inscribed on a statue base [IvE 834.9- 10] which was set up in his honor by the Boule and Demos of Ephesos.” 59

of the Ephesian boule.168 These residents leave behind a picture which shows how the some of the local Ephesian elites (ES3+) used their wealth within the audience’s lifetime.

Local elites spent substantial amounts of money for their own benefit. Within the slope houses, there are dozens of statues, mosaics, frescoes, and ample space for hospitality and cultic activities most of which revolves around the owner’s status, job, or interests. The spaces reserved for hosting guests were built entirely around the host gaining some amount of honor. Commissioned pieces, like the stunning mosaics of Medusa and Dionysius or the statue of C. Flavius Furius Aptus as a Dionysian priest in his own home, very clearly demonstrated one’s status and wealth to guests. Alongside furniture, frescos, mosaics, statues, and porticos, “many forms of sculpture made up a substantial part of the setting of self- display in which patrons and their families routinely presented their status, wealth, and personal tastes.”169

Because C. Vibius Salutaris was ES3+, he could use his wealth outside his own domestic space to garner honor. His name appears in a 568-line inscription detailing a large donation to the city “that funded processions and distributions of money as part of the worship of Artemis.”170 The funded procession contains 260 people, 22 silver statues of important Romans including Augustus, Livy, and several other senators, and 9 busts of Artemis. The procession should occur bi-weekly and during every major event (e.g., monthly assemblies, festivals, etc.). It “symbolized and legitimated the various power relationships in the city and the province...” and was a propaganda tool that celebrated the wealthy and powerful in the city.171 The procession visually reminded the Ephesians who was in power (elites, deities, and emperors) or who would be in power (Ephebes). Salutaris also donated a hefty sum of money to the city to be given to the Ephesian tribal phylarchs, the boule, and gerousia; that is, he is publicly promoting the elite Ephesians and the perceived ‘original Ephesians.’ Salutarus’ motivation was not altruistic generosity towards his fellow Ephesians, but “to provide an

168 C. Vibius Salutaris’s name appears on IvE 27 (104CE) which dedicates a procession to and from the Artemesion. Cf. G. Rogers, The Sacred Identity of Ephesos (London: Routledge, 1991), 156-57. 169 E. Gazda, “Domestic Displays,” in The Oxford Handbook of Roman Sculpture, ed. E. Friedland, M.G. Sobocinski, and E.K. Gazda (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 375. 170 IvE 27. C. Thomas, “Greek Heritage in Roman Corinth and Ephesos: Hybrid Identities and Strategies of Display in the Material Record of Traditional Mediterranean Religions,” in Corinth in Context, ed. S. Friesen, et al (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 133. 171 R. Miles, “Communicating Culture, Identity and Power,” in Experiencing Rome, ed. J. Huskinson (London: Routledge, 2000), 50. 60

image of the civic hierarchy at Ephesos.”172 In other words, Salutaris’ use of wealth reflects his own view of how Ephesus should be: a city run by proper elite Ephesians who worship Artemis. Salutaris cares not for the Ephesians as such but for his own ideals. Likewise, the Aptus house reflects a typical elite residence which seeks to impress its visitors with a display of one’s own interests, status, and wealth.

In Corinth, we do not have much direct evidence for domestic space because the excavations have been focused on the forum.173 However, the Anaploga Villa and the Shear Villa have been excavated.174 The former claims some fame amongst New Testament scholars, particularly those following Murphy-O’Connor,175 but the latter has not seen much attention. There are mosaics, sculptures, and frescoes in both villas. The Anaploga Villa contains a mosaic of Dionysius, a depiction of Europa, and a very large mosaic floor. The 47m2 mosaic floor, dated to the first-century CE, displays animals, centaurs, flowers, and interlocking circles.176 The range of colored tesserae found in this mosaic, including blue, yellow, red, and turquoise, display wealth prominently.177 Three panels in the center of the room contain still life paintings of chickens, pears, and pomegranates are likely Xenia which are “pictorial representations of guest gifts which were sent by wealthy hosts to their guests.”178 Everywhere one looks inside the Anaploga Villa, depictions of wealth and the majesty of the wealthy owners are prominently displayed. The Shear Villa is even more grandiose. On the floor, there are marble and mosaics. The mosaic floors contain one of the finest depictions of Dionysius,179 lions attacking a horse and an antelope, Europa, and a

172 A. Zuiderhoek, The Politics of Munificence in the Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 103. 173 D. Schowalter, “Seeking Shelter in Roman Corinth: Archaeology and the Placement of Paul’s Communities,” in Corinth in Context, ed. S. Friesen, et al (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 328. 174 The Shear Villa is named for the lead archaeologist who published the first excavation reports in T. Shear, “Excavations at Corinth in 1925,” AJA (1925), 381-88. Cf. L.L. Welborn, An End to Enmity (BZNW 185; Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011), 342-57. 175 J. Murphy-O’Connor, St. Paul’s Corinth (3rd ed; Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2002). See reception of Murphy-O’Connor’s treatment of Villa Anaploga in Oakes, Romans, 69-71; Schowalter, “Seeking Shelter”; D. Horrell, “Domestic Space and Christian Meetings at Corinth: Imagining New Contexts and the Buildings East of the Theatre,” NTS 50 (2004): 349-69; Welborn, Enmity, 336-41; Weissenrieder, “Architecture”, 128- 31. 176 S. Miller, “A Mosaic Floor from a Roman Villa at Anaploga,” Hesperia 41 (1972): 338. 177 Ibid., 339. 178 Ibid., 348. 179 Shear, “Excavations,” 394 says of the mosaic that it is “among the best works of Greek mosaic.” Cited by Welborn, Enmity, 346. 61

cowherd (possibly Paris) dressed in a leopard-skinned loin cloth playing his flute next to three oxen amongst other cattle.180

Even though these villas contain the upper echelons of Corinthian wealth and do not represent most Corinthians, similar uses of wealth exist within the insulae on East Theatre Street.181 These rooms varied in size and seem to reflect residents of varied socio-economic levels.182 A few buildings within the insulae are noteworthy. D. Horrell has focused on Building 3 as representative of a possible meeting place for early Christians in Corinth. Building 3 has a large room, probably a kitchen,183 facing the street, a smaller room adjoining it, and at least one room on a higher story. Of the upper-story rooms “at least one upper floor of Building 3 must have had rooms decorated with a quite presentable fresco programme.”184 Building 5 also contained frescoes and perhaps a lararium which contains figures of Hermes, Aphrodite, and Heracles.185 The frescoes may indicate a wealthy but non- elite Corinthian family, perhaps an ES4+ level family. Even these non-elite Corinthians display their wealth throughout their domestic space which then gives the resident honor and status.

As in Ephesus, some inscriptions in Corinth detail use of wealth. P. Licinius Priscus Iuventianus, a social elite and high priest for the imperial cult, intended to build a Palaimonion and an apartment block with fifty rooms (οἴκους) to provide free lodging for athletes.186 He probably funded the special minted coins commemorating his donation.187 Priscus’ donation ensured his legacy as a patron of the games and the cult of Palaimon. These

180 T. Shear, The Roman Villa (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1930), 19-21. The villa went through several reconstructions. The mosaics were initially dated as from the first century BCE, but this is disputed. The layout and use of the rooms varied as the walls were built and rebuilt. See G. Hellenkemper Salies, “Römische Mosaiken im Griechenland,’ Bonner Jahrbücher 186 (1986): 278-79 for third century CE and “Hadrianic/Anthoinine date” in C. Kondoleon, Domestic and Divine (London: Cornell University Press, 2018), 104. 181 Brought to NT scholarship’s attention in Horrell, “Domestic Space”. See archaeological reports of the insulae in C. Williams II and O. Zervos, “Corinth, 1985: East of the Theater,” Hesperia 55 (1986): 129-75. 182 Weissenrieder, “Architecture,” 132. 183 Williams II and Zervos, “Corinth,” 132. 184 Ibid., 140. The frescoes and upper stories are dated to the Flavian period (142). 185 Ibid., 156 are not confident that this is a lararium, but see Weissenrieder, “Architecture,” 132 who connects the graffito Ἀντέρω[σ]ωε. with Anteros, a son of Ares and Aphrodite. 186 PHI27699. Second century. See D. Geagan, “The Isthmian Dossier of P. Licinius Priscus Juventianus” Hesperia 58 (1989): 349-60. 187 As suggested by M. Walbank, “Image and Cult: The Coinage of Roman Corinth,” in Corinth in Context, ed. S. Friesen, et al Walters (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 179-80. 62

coins, inscriptions, and temples all physically demonstrate the donor’s interests in cults, games, and in gaining honor for himself.

Excavations at Thessaloniki have yielded fewer results for domestic spaces than Ephesus or Corinth, but a few inscriptions give some instruction on use of wealth by local elites. A first- century BCE inscription honors Parnassus with a wreath, front row seats at the theatre, and a statue.188 Another inscription honors Apollonius for his imperial priesthood and service to Rome.189 There are other Macedonian inscriptions in which Macedonian benefactors focused on building and furnishing sanctuaries and gymnasiums, holding and celebrating athletic games and animal hunts, and carrying out public works such as roads or water supply systems.190

In nearby Berea, Quintus Popillius Pythonis was given the title benefactor (εὐεργέτης) for his imperial priesthood of the Augustan family and securing the title neokoros for Berea. Pythonis also made massive financial contributions. As high priest, he paid the “entire capital tax (epikephalion) of the province. He financed the repair of roads..., organized the athletic games, animal fights and gladiatorial games, ...provided grain at a low price in times of famine, and he distributed money to those who attended the festivals.”191 Pythonis may have also been the head of the provincial koinon as a later inscription describes one who is held “the offices of Macedoniarch, chief priest (of the Augusti?), and agonothetes of the provincial festival.”192

An ES3+ like Pythonis has several motivations for using his wealth in the above examples. Bartels notes that the motivations in the inscriptions usually express solidarity with fellow citizens or the love of one’s homeland even if the benefactors do not actually feel this way.193 We might add to Bartels’ observations that a key motivation of someone like Pythonis is the appearance of loving one’s city or citizen while giving money to further one’s own reputation

188 PHI313096. Cited and summarized in Ioannis Xydopoulos, “Euergetes and Euergesia in inscriptions for public benefactors from Macedonia”, AWE 17 (2018), 83-118 who points out the archaeologist’s reconstructions which include εὐεργέτης might be mistaken here. 189... ἱερατήαν Διὸς καὶ Ῥώµης καὶ Καίσαρος θεοῦ υἱοῦ Σεβαστοῦ. SEG 35:755. Transcribed by Xydopoulos, “Euergetes,” 35-36. 190 Bartels, Eliten, 157. 191 Xydopoulous, “Euergetes,” 97. cf. SEG 17:315. Cf. A. Tataki, Ancient Beroea (Athens: Research Center for Greek and Roman Antiquity, 1988), 259-61. 192 B. Burrell, Neokoroi (CCS9; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 192. 193 Ibid., 57. 63

and interests. Give enough money to the theatre, and, along with a prized front row seat, your name is enshrined on its walls. Selling food for below market prices ensures your reputation as generous while in some cases still gaining a profit.194 Demonstrating one’s loyalty (πίστις) to one’s city through donations generates honor within that city. In sum, altruism does not exist within the realm of benefaction.195

For those who had some surplus in Luke’s audience, the typical use of wealth sought to further one’s reputation or honor, solidify one’s generosity through an honorary inscription, or increase one’s social status through some sort of donation or benefaction, however small that donation might be. Because the Christ-group’s meeting place has the potential to generate honor and privilege, the householder may seek to display this surplus wealth throughout the domestic space. Any addition to the meeting space, from the floors to the frescoes to much smaller changes, would be immediately noticed by the Christ-group who would perhaps generate honor to and for the householder.

In sum, the use of wealth in Greco-Roman society is motivated by one’s self-interests. Every fabric of life reflects this self-interest, from domestic spaces to work. In Ephesian slope houses and the Corinthian villas, the basic senses of sight and touch communicates socio-economic status. As you walk through the house, you feel the cool marble or the small colored tessarae instead of the dusty, dirt floors of the ES5 and below. Gods, animals, and paintings of gifts demand attention and command any guest to give honor to the owner. Every element of the villa is meant to impress a guest and bestow honor on its owner. Though most evidence stems from the elite sector of society, even the poorest professions use wealth for their own interests and benefit. Very seldom is there evidence of anyone using wealth to help the poor for the poor’s sake.

2.3.3 Profiling of Cultic Contexts of the Christ-Group Members

A key contribution of this project questions the types of evidence used for exegesis in light of Luke’s audience members. Lukan scholarship focuses on Luke’s possible knowledge of rabbinic debates or in-group debates between Pharisees and Sadducees as though Luke’s

194 P. Garnsey, Famine and Food Supply in the Graeco-Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 83. 195 Ibid., 82. 64

audience also has this knowledge.196 It is feasible Luke had some access to these debates or someone who might explain a few of these debates to him, but it does not follow that Luke’s audience, who are not writing a book, did as well. The cultural knowledge of a well-traveled author who spent years researching for his large and expensive literary work cannot be imposed onto Christ-groups communities in the Greek East. Below, we re-evaluate the place of early Jewish evidence used in scholarship when analyzing GLk from the audience’s perspective.

2.3.3.1 Knowledge of Primary Jewish Evidence

Synagogue affiliation did not grant Luke’s audience members, Jewish or God-fearer, access to rabbinic streams of thought. There is no evidence diaspora synagogues engaged with or were aware of the Rabbinic debates in the first and second centuries CE.197 The Jewish leadership in Corinth, Ephesus, and Thessaloniki was “locally nurtured and had little or nothing to do with the contemporary rabbinic academies in Palestine and Babylonia.”198 P. Alexander points out this was certainly the case in the second century: “Jews in the Diaspora may increasingly have become aware of the Rabbinate in Palestine as the long second century [i.e., 70-210CE] wore on, but they would have had little chance of learning its distinctive views of Judaism, or of accepting its guidance, even if they had wanted to.”199 One might use rabbinic discussions to illuminate Luke’s familiarity with certain streams of thought as an author, but we cannot use the same evidence for Luke’s audience.200

To account for Gentile members of the Christ-group with little to no direct relationship with the Jewish synagogue or literature, we will need to detect a minimum knowledge of Judaism in the Ancient Mediterranean. The non-Jewish Mediterranean literary traditions seem to have had vague knowledge of some Jewish customs. The first-century authors Petronius, Martial, Juvenal, Diodorus of Sicily, Suetonius, and Tacitus all knew of Jewish

196 Jervell, Theology, 13; R. Brawley, Luke-Acts and the Jews (Atlanta: Scholars, 1987), 80-83, 155- 57; P. Mallen, The Reading and Transformation of Isaiah in Luke-Acts (LNTS 367; London: T&T Clark, 2008), 172; Nolland, Luke 1:xxxii. 197 Late Rabbinic traditions give some notion of halakhah discussion in Asia Minor, for example, but the evidence is very late (b. Yev. 121a). Rabbi Meir is said to have fled to Asia Minor during the Second Jewish War (y. Kil. 9, 4, 32c) and Rabbi Judah the Prince traveled to Asia in late 2nd century (m. Meg. 18b). 198 L. Levine, The Ancient Synagogue (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 303. 199 P. Alexander, “The Rabbis and Their Rivals,” in Christianity in the Second Century, J.C. Paget and J. Lieu, ed. (Cambridge: Cambrdige University Press, 2017), 68. 200 E.g., Oliver, Torah fruitfully explores Luke’s familiarity with halakhic debate. 65

circumcision.201 Plutarch and Petronius knew of Jewish eating practices, resting on the Sabbath, worshipping one deity, and sending the temple-tax to Jerusalem.202 Tacitus especially disparages these practices and comments on the eating of unleavened bread but does not know enough to understand why such practices occurred.203 Though these are all educated and mostly elite writers, the average Mediterranean person probably knew of these practices. Luke’s audience members would have a better understanding than most, but this general knowledge of Judaism is a good gauge for the ‘minimum’ amount of knowledge Luke’s audience member might have. This is probably why Luke mentions Jewish festivals like Passover (2:41; 22:1-15) without historical explanation.204 Crucially, Luke’s audience need not be solely God-fearers or Jewish Christians to understand Jewish elements in the narrative; laws concerning the Sabbath, purity, eating, circumcision, and some festivals were known throughout the Mediterranean.205

2.3.3.2 Knowledge of Non-Jewish Cults

Within this social setting, members of differing familiarity with Judaism and the Christ- movement will have met. GLk and perhaps other documents would not override their own culturally learned cultic knowledge. Cultic beliefs do not live in document stores. Even the most well-educated members of the Christ group were not blank slates; they lived and breathed in a polytheistic world. Importantly, Luke’s audience members did not simply forget their cultic knowledge or act as if it did not exist. New converts to the Christ-group too would not simply forget everything they learned, but even Jewish members were familiar with the larger cultic beliefs of their cities.206 Along these lines, NT scholarship tends to

201 Petronius, Sat. 102.14; Martial, Epig., 7.30.5; Juvenal, Sat. 3.10-18; Diodorus, L.H., 1.55.5; Suetonius, Dom, 12.2; Tacitus, Hist. 5.5. See also Apion and Valerius Maximum references in J. Barclay, “‘Jews’ and ‘Christians’ in the Eyes of Roman Authors c. 100CE” in Jews and Christians in the First and Second Centuries, eds. P. Tomson and J. Schwartz (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 314-15 who also cites these references. 202 Petronius, Poems, 97.24; Plutarch, Mor. 169D. See further references in Barclay, “‘Jews’”. 203 Hist. 5.5. He argues that they rest on the Sabbath to honor Saturn. 204 In 2:41, Passover is explained as a festival which occurs in Jerusalem. In 22:1, Passover is explained as the feast of unleavened bread which may be more well-known (e.g. Tacitus, Hist. 5.5). 205 Contra Jervell, Theology, 13 that it would be “impossible for anyone without a Jewish background or firsthand information about Judaism to understand Luke's presentation,” and some arguments in Oliver, Torah, e.g., 81-82 that Luke’s description of reading a scroll in a synagogue on the Sabbath is evidence for knowledge of Diaspora synagogues. 206 A 2nd century Galilean epitaph mentions Charon explicitly (JIGRE 141 = PHI188870), and a 3rd century Galilean inscription (BETH0127) describes Justus going to Hades as Moira/Fate wills it (ἤθελε Μοῖρα κραταιή). Other Jewish inscriptions are dedicated to Apollo, Zeus, Gaia, Helios, Amphiaraos (cf. P. van der Worst, Saxa Judaica Loquuntur [Leiden: Brill, 2015], 26). Several Jewish ossuaries in Jericho contained coins 66

mishandle the polytheistic nature of the ancient Mediterranean.207 Most major cities including Thessaloniki, Ephesus, and Corinth contain cults of popular deities like Dionysus and patron deities for the individual cities. Rarely does one commit to the service and worship of a single deity. For example, the aforementioned C. Flavius Aptus of Ephesus was a priest of Dionysus, the sebastoi, and possibly Asclepius; Apphia of nearby Aphrodisias was a high priestess for life of the sebastoi and priestess of Aphrodite.208 But we need not use such wealthy priests as our sole examples. Ephesian fishermen paid for a toll-booth which they dedicated to Nero, previous emperors, and Artemis, the city’s protectress.209 It was common for someone to belong to a trade-guild with a patron deity, say Poseidon, and also participate in local festivals in honor of other deities, say Artemis, while also celebrating private lares and ancestral deities. Polytheism was an interconnected system rather than several gods acting individually.210 As such, we will point out different cultic interactions in our analysis to bolster our socio-economic readings.

In sum, the audience members can be constructed within this socio-economic framework. Luke’s expected audience were non-elite; some had a relatively high amount of surplus wealth but most of which had very little if any surplus wealth. The Christ-group met in the higher ES level’s domestic space and participated in social hierarchy including patronage, reciprocity, and honor competitions. These members were at least minimally aware of Jewish festivals, circumcision, and eating practices. One or two members probably had a more detailed knowledge of Jewish practices and could inform the group if questions arose. None of these members would be privy to on-going rabbinic debates. Thus, Luke will need to explain Jewish traditions, like fulfilling the law, to his audience through the lens of wealth

within skulls, almost surely Charon’s obol. See further ossuaries in R. Hachlili and A. Killebrew, “Jewish Funerary Customs During the Second Temple Period, in the Light of the Excavations at the Jericho Necropolis,” Palestine Exploration Quarterly 115 (1983): 109-39. 207 See J. Økland, Women in Their Place (JSNTSup 259; London: T&T Clark, 2004), 124 who makes a similar point regarding the need to approach polytheism. 208For Apphia, see IAphrodisias 237 = PHI257116 (1st c. CE). Honored by the boule and demos: τειμαῖς Ἀπφίαν Θεοδώρου τοῦ Ἀττίνου Μελίτωνος ἀρχιέρειαν διὰ βίου θεῶν Σεβαστῶν καὶ ἱέρειαν Ἀρτέμιδος, γυναῖκα δὲ Ἀπολλωνίου τ[οῦ Ἀθην]αγόρου τοῦ Εὐ̣ [̣ μάχου]. Comments and translation in J. Reynolds, “The First Known Aphrodisian to Hold a Procuratorship,” in Steine und Wege, ed. P. Scherrer, et al (Vienna: Österreichisches Archäologisches Institut, 1999), 327-34. 209 IvE 20 = PHI247975 also to the demos of Rome and Ephesus. 210 See J. Økland, “Ceres, Koph, and Cultural Complexity,” in Corinth in Context, ed. S. Friesen, et al (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 199-230 and Portefaix, Sisters, 175-199. 67

ethics. As we will see, GLk will consistently refer to care of neighbor as fulfilling the Jewish law to his audience members.

2.4 Parables as Ethical Teachings

Parables, along with other ancient modes of teachings like chreia, fables, and exempla, are narrative rhetorical devices which communicate, among other things, ethical actions to be avoided or imitated. In general, they can be defined as “an expanded analogy used to convince and persuade” with an “ultimate aim… to awake insight, stimulate the conscience, and move to action.”211 Rather than focus on their composition, origin, or genre, we will focus on this aspect of parables for this project.212

This project utilizes unique Lukan parables through which ethical thrusts have different applications to different members of an early Christ-group. Because the expected audience members are listening to the GLk rather than an original audience, the historical originality of GLk’s parables does not concern this project. Additionally, the audience would expect parables to have multiple meanings, conclusions, or morals. The first-century rhetorician Theon (Progymn. 78.28-31) states that one fable (μῦθος) can have several conclusions or morals (ἐπίλογοι) which derive from the fable’s contents.213 Put a different way, parables invite polyvalent interpretations from listeners who have subjective reactions to them.214

Some controls are needed before proceeding.215 First, the parables will be rooted in the narrative context of GLk. Because audience members would be listening to narrative, the surrounding narrative context will drive meaning for ethical thrusts. Yet the narrative was not heard in a void; audience members will draw interpretative cues from their own life

211 Snodgrass, Stories, 9, 8 respectively. Cf. Zimmermann, Parables, 6. Theon, Progymn. 1.21, 3. 212 See recently on the question of historicity, genre, and interpretation, D. Roth, The Parables in Q (LNTS 582; London: T&T Clark, 2018); R. Zimmermann, et al, eds. Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (2nd ed; Munich: Gütersloher, 2015); R. Zimmermann, Parables; A. Thiselton, Hermeneutics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 35-59. 213 On Theon’s Progymnasmata and GLk’s parables, see M. Parsons, “Luke and the Progymnasmata: A Preliminary Investigation into the Preliminary Exercises” in Contextualizing Acts, ed. T. Penner and C. Vander Stichele (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2003), 43-64. 214 Recognized in modern scholarship since J.D. Crossan, “A Metamodel for Polyvalent Narration” Semeia 9 (1977): 105-147; M. Tolbert, Perspectives on Parables (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979). Cf. Zimmermann, Parables, 166-170. 215 On the need for controls in reader-oriented approaches, see L. Thurén, Parables Unplugged (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014); A. Thiselton, “Reader-Response Hermeneutics, Action Models, and the Parables of Jesus,” in The Responsibility of Hermeneutics, ed. R. Lundin, et al (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1985), 79-113. 68

circumstances. Looking outside the text for material evidence is paramount to situate our interpretation. Second, interpretation will be rooted in the localized experience of our audience members. The parable’s ethical actions will be filtered through their own socio- economic realities in their cities. Thus, this project locates ethical impetus within the varied socio-economic realities of different members of a first-century Christ-group.

2.5 Summary and Conclusion

This chapter set out to describe the theoretical backbone of this project and its process of socio-economic analysis of this project. It also sought to demonstrate key gaps in methodology that this project will address. We described the narratological categories of historical, intended, and narrative audiences which exist behind and within the text GLk. We determined that focusing beyond the text towards a material audience in the form of our expected audience category will limit and sharpen exegesis from the previously vague descriptions of GLk’s audience. The expected audience category will have the added benefit of working from the historic, socio-economic contexts in the first-century rather than applying the socio-economic contexts of GLk to those contexts. Second, material evidence will be privileged when available. The socio-economic contexts of GLk’s audience will be buttressed with socio-economic descriptions in Acts, and socio-economic calculations will be buttressed by the PE. Third, this chapter described the spatial, socio-economic, and cultic contexts of an expected audience and determined that domestic space is the most likely meeting place for a Christ-group. Householders using money of their domestic space to gain honor was used as an example of popular ideas concerning use of wealth. It was also argued that Luke’s audience did not have access to rabbinic streams of thought whilst other audience members would interact substantially with the polytheistic system of first-century beliefs. Finally, we detailed our reasons for analyzing parables which can have multivalent interpretations.

Chapter 3: Socio-Economic Profiles of Expected Audience Members

With a theoretical framework in place, we can begin constructing audience members. As argued earlier, we will gather evidence for audience members from the characters found in Luke-Acts to place delimitations on these constructions. This will give our method the added benefit of drawing an expected audience from Luke’s probable intended audience members without limiting the expected audience members’ material lives to the text. We selected three members of different socio-economic status who live in different cities to maximize the benefits of our method. First, we construct a profile of a wealthy woman in Macedonia (ES4) as mentioned in Acts 17:4 and 17:12. Using an ES4 member who approaches a provincial elite will produce the socio-economic dynamics of a “wealthier” audience member. The wealthy woman also reflects the later tradition that women held prominent places in the early Christ-movement, and the benefaction by women was attested as early as Paul (Rom 16:1) and, in GLk, Jesus’ ministry (8:3).216 Second, we will focus on a male artisan in Ephesus (ES5) like those mentioned in Acts 19. As we will demonstrate later, Demetrius is not the representative of most artisans, so we will instead focus on the type of artisan who might work for Demetrius.217 Finally, we will balance our members who possess surplus wealth with a female domestic slave in Corinth (ES6). Female slaves occur with some regularity in Luke- Acts, including the high priest’s slave-girl (παιδίσκη, 22:56) who questions Peter, Rhoda (παιδίσκη, Acts 12:13), and the slave-girl with a Pythian spirit (παιδίσκη, Acts 16:16-18). Arguably one of the most important female characters in the GLk, Mary, self-identifies as a female slave (δούλη κυρίου, 1:38).218 Analyzing a female slave in Luke’s audience will tip the

216 Cf. C. Osiek, “Diakonos and Prostatis: Women’s Patronage in Early Christianity,” HTS 61 (2005), 347-70; A. Miller, “Cut from the Same Cloth: A Study of Female Patrons in Luke-Acts and the Roman Empire” RE 114 (2017), 203-10. Key works covering this topic include C. Osiek and M. MacDonald, A Woman’s Place (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2006); M.-R. D’Angelo, “Women in Luke-Acts” JBL 109 (1990), 441-61; S. Matthews, First Converts (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001). 217 Prisca and Aquilla too seem to fit this description as they contract with artisan groups as they travel and work for a time in Ephesus (1 Cor 16:19) and Rome (Rom 16:3-5). 218 Cf. Portefaix, Sisters, 158-60. 70

gender balance towards women who were well represented in Christ-groups in Luke’s audience.219

3.1 Wealthy (ES4) Prominent Macedonian Woman

As our starting point, we will analyze Acts 17:4-12 in which Thessalonian “prominent women” (γυναικῶν τε τῶν πρώτω) and Berean “noble women” (τῶν Ἑλληνίδων γυναικῶν τῶν εὐσχημόνων) appear in the narrative. To give some detail to the type of prominent women Luke has in mind, we will look to inscriptions of a similar title of the ‘leading woman’ or ‘first among women.’ The grammatical difference is obvious: the following inscriptions are πρώτη γυναικῶν rather than the γυναικῶν τῶν πρώτων found in Acts. However, the examples of ‘first women’ will give a reference point that ‘leading women’ might imitate, interact with, or otherwise perform in smaller ways with less money and influence than a ‘first lady’. Our aim is to describe what it means to be leading women with particular reference towards our expected audience member.

Scholars have described both the Thessalonian and Berean women as either God-fearing Greek women or Jewish women. Both conclusions are possible. Syntactically, the two clauses in 17:4 in which “God-fearing Greeks” and “prominent women” occur follow a τε ... τε pattern (τῶν τε σεβομένων Ἑλλήνων πλῆθος πολύ, γυναικῶν τε τῶν πρώτων οὐκ ὀλίγαι) which usually separates the two distinct items whilst connecting them as closely related.220 However, Luke elsewhere explicitly names the groups to which the leaders belong: Acts 13:50 notes the Antiochene Jews incite the “God-fearing noble women and prominent men of the city” (τὰς σεβομένας γυναῖκας τὰς εὐσχήμονας καὶ τοὺς πρώτους τῆς πόλεως); Acts 25:2 contains “the leaders of the Jews” (οἱ πρῶτοι τῶν Ἰουδαίων); Acts 28:7 has “the leader of the island” (τῷ πρώτῳ τῆς νήσου). Since the lack of group designation in 17:4 probably means the women are a part of one of the prior two groups, we are still faced

219 As argued by Celsus (Origen, Contra Celsus 3.44ff). See further M. MacDonald, “Was Celsus Right? The Role of Women in the Expansion of Early Christian,” in Early Christian Families in Context, eds. D.L. Balch and C. Osiek (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003). 220 See M. Parsons and M. Culy, Acts (BHGNT; Waco: Baylor University Press, 2003), 326 who note “the syntax (appositional nominatives with τε … τε) suggests that the τινες were predominately ‘devout Greeks and prominent women’.” Note that Codex Bezae omits the second τε and adds a καὶ. 71

with the possibility of God-fearing Greek women or Jewish women as viable translation options with the former having slightly more syntactical evidence on its side.

For this project, we take “leading women” to mean Greek leading women of the city for two reasons. First, the τε ... τε pattern detailed above connects the God-fearing Greeks and the leading women whilst separating them as individual groups; this highlights the ‘leading’ aspect of the women without a direct connection to the male Greeks or Jews. Second, the ensuing riots did not occur within the Jewish community but within the πόλις. In Thessaloniki, the mob sought an audience with the δῆμος and eventually gained a hearing with the Thessalonian πολιτάρχας (Acts 17:8). In Berea, the crowds are incited (ταράσσοντες, Acts 17:13). Leading members within a Jewish community would not have the political or social currency to help Paul and Silas.221

Having demonstrated that the prominent Thessalonian women were likely Greek and prominent within their city, the contextualizing evidence for leading and prominent women in the wider Greco-Roman world will now be explored.

3.1.1 Five Examples of Πρώτη Γυναικῶν

Lollia Antiochis, wife of Quintus Lollius Philetairos, first among women (πρώτη γυναικῶν), who ruled as basilea according to ancestral customs (βασιλεύσα[σα] κατὰ τὰ πάτρια, πρώτη γυναικῶν), dedicated this bath and its belongings to Julia Aphrodite (= Livia) and the Roman people. 222

There are two key phrases here: “first of women” which is perhaps a description or honorary title, and “who ruled as basilea according to ancestral customs.”223 The natural translation of basileia would be queen; this probably refers to an eponymous official or magistrate (eponymous meaning the local year was named after person in that position). A recently published addendum to an inscription from Herakleia Pontike (Southwest Turkey, 2nd century CE) sheds some light on this. Julia Pythias is honored for holding the office of eponymous basileia for the city.

221 For more on sedition and riots within this episode, see Keener, Acts, 2563. 222 IAssos 16 = PHI288079. Trans. in R.A. Kearsley, “Women and Public Life in Imperial Asia: Hellenistic Tradition and Augustan Ideology,” AWE 4 (2005): 104. 223 Ibid. 72

Julia Pythias, outstanding in all things, daughter of philosopher Julius Pythagoras, who has held once more the magistracy of eponymous basileia [ἐπώνυμο[ν] βασιλείαν] of/for the city pre-eminently for… (honoured by) Severa, daughter of Severus, granddaughter of Timokrates.224

Lollia’s title, ‘queen,’ very likely means eponymous basileia as this inscription explicitly notes.

Lollia’s position as stephanephorus (i.e., garland-bearing magistrate) and ‘queen’ or would not surprise readers of these inscriptions; women, particularly wealthy women, often held notable positions in the Greek East.225 As S. Dmitriev has argued, “the social status of women changed significantly [in the first century] … The high social status of women was further enhanced through various honorific titles such as ‘daughter of the city’ or ‘mother of the city’ or ‘mother of the city council.’”226 R.A. Kearsley adds that when women began to hold higher offices from the first-century BCE onwards, Asian women began to imitate Livia. She comments on this inscription:

Those characterized as πρώτη γυναικῶν in Asia Minor had their grandiosity underlined for their contemporaries by a linguistic allusion to Livia, Rome’s foremost lady who was conceptualized in the capital as femina princeps… Lollia Antiochis had donated a bath-building to Augustus’ daughter Julia, hence the appellation πρώτη γυναικῶν eminently fitting for her literally as a civic benefactress and metaphorically as a provincial ‘Livia.’227

Whether or not one follows Kearsley here, we should note two conclusions from her comments. First, wealthy women could interact in public life via benefaction, and they were celebrated for their donations and love of their city. Second, wealthy women may have imitated Livia because it allowed them more agency—and in turn approval—to contribute to public life.

In our second example, the title ‘first among women’ appears in a 41-line inscription dedicated to Priene in Phile, 35 km south of Ephesus. Phile holds the office of stephanephorus. Like Lollia, she too is called the ‘first among women’, and she too makes a substantial

224 Trans. adapted from B. Öztürk, “Corrigende et Addenda to the Inscriptions of Herakleia Pontike from Karadeinz Ereǧli Museum,” Turkish Academy of Sciences Journal of Archaeology 20 (2017): 201-3. 225 See Friesen, Neokoros, 112-113 for development of women benefactors and provincial priesthoods in Asia. 226 S. Dmitriev, City Government in Hellenstic and Roman Asia Minor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 182. 227 Kearlsey, “Women,” 109. 73

benefaction to the city: she constructs the city aqueduct and reservoir.228 In these two inscriptions honoring Phile and Lollia, the title ‘first of women’ functions as an honorary title that accompanies high-profile civic offices (basileia and stephanephorus). Wealth, status, and benefaction seem to be embedded in the notion of ‘first among woman.’

In our third example, a first-century CE inscription from Asia Minor (Herakleia by Salbacus in Caria, near Laodicea in Southwestern Turkey) was found in which Tate, the daughter of Glykonos is also called first among women, but this inscription includes some reasons as to why she was given the title.229

Τατην θυγατέρα Γλύκωνος... στεφανηφόρου δὶς καὶ γυμνασιάρχου ἱερατεύσαντος δὲ καὶτοῦ Ἡρακλέους, ἁγνήν, γυμνασιαρχήσασαν... καὶ διὰ τò[ὴν] περὶ τὸν βίον σωφροσύνην ἀξιωθῖσαν το[ῦ] ἱερωτάτου τῶν γερεῶν συστήματος πρώτη γυνεικῶν, ἐστεφανηφορηκυῖαν λαμπρῶς ...

Tate, the daughter of Glykonos who himself was stephenorous twice and gymnasiarch and priest of Heracles, [was herself] chaste (ἁγνήν), having served as gymnasiarch... And because of the self-control (σωφροσύνην) of her life, she was deserving of consecrated privileges of the committee (συστήματος), first among women, having served as stephanephorous gloriously...

Tate is notable for several reasons. First, she is a female gymnasiarch, a traditionally male role which once supervised the training of male athletes but in Roman Asia Minor shifted into a type of honored civic benefactor.230 Her role as gymnasiarch is notable, as it is typically male, but it is not uncommon for women to hold the title. At least 47 other women held the title gymnasiarchs throughout Asia Minor during the first three centuries. Second, she lauded for having two virtues: chastity and self-control. Women were very commonly praised for having chastity,231 but self-control was usually a masculine virtue.232 Indeed, usually “female honour

228 IPriene 34 = PHI252914. 229 PHI258322. 230 Trebilco, Community, 113-25; Dmitriev, Government, 179-80; Dutch, Elite, 111-17; J. R. Harrison, “Paul and the Gymnasiarchs: Two Approaches of Pastoral Formation in Antiquity,” in Paul: Jew, Greek, and Roman, ed. S.E. Porter (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 151-69; K. Zamfir, Men and Women in the Household of God (SUNT 103; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013), 304-13. Trebilco (125) writes that Tate was the “first woman honoured with admission to the college of the very sacred geraioi” which may indicate of πρώτη as chronological. 231 Ovid calls Livia the “Vesta of chaste matrons” (Pont. 4.13.29; Tr. 4.2.11-14), referring to Rome’s chaste mother goddess (Vesta mater). 232 For women adapting this masculine value in classical Greek writings, see A. Rademaker, Sophrosyne and the Rhetoric of Self-Restraint (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 264-74. 74

is preserved within the boundaries of the private space and of the family.”233 However, because Livia was associated with self-control and chastity, Tate’s inscription may indicate an imitation of Livia in which case the virtues demonstrate “ceremonial and formal decorum in a public sphere” when applied to female benefactors.234

A fourth example occurs in a badly damaged 3rd century CE inscription in Kos and little can be deciphered about its use.235 Finally, in our fifth example, the boule and demos of Asia honored Juliane, the ‘first among women’ in Asia who held the most offices of these examples: she was the provincial high priestess of Asia (ἀρ[χιέ]ρειαν γε[νομένην] τῆς Ἀσία[ς]), stephanephorus and gymnasiarch, priestess of Aphrodite, and priestess for life of Agrippina (e.g., imperial cult) and Demeter in Ephesus.236 The reference to Ephesian Demeter probably alludes to Livia, as “Livia was assimilated with Demeter [in Ephesus].”237 We have again a probable example of a wealthy female benefactor perhaps imitating Livia, but most certainly holding titles of supreme importance to the public civic spaces.

What function do these prominent women play in society? These titles were mostly though not all eponymous; that usually indicates they were very wealthy with occasional non-legal duties. For example, the stephanephoroi funded the religious ceremonies and festivals for the year they serve in office; in return, the year was named after the stephanephoros. Other duties include typical elite behavior such as performing sacrifices or hosting banquets for the city.238 For example, Moschion served as stephanephoros in Phile’s town of Priene during in the same century as Phile. An inscription honoring Moschion describes how he “decorated all the temples with crowns and the altars with incense… ordered a herald to call up the [people of the city] to a banquet of sweetmeats, and offered sacrifices to Zeus, Hera, Athena, and Pan on the first of each month.”239 Such work was expensive.

233 Zamfir, Men and Women, 105-6 on σωφροσύνην. 234 Kearsley, “Women,” 117. 235 IG XII 4 2.678 = PHI350250. 236 IMagnesia 237 = PHI260678. ἀρ[χιέ]ρειαν γε[νομένην] τῆς Ἀσία[ς πρ]ώτην τῶν γυναικῶν. Kearsley, “Women,” 110-11 sees ‘first among women’ as a separate title; Friesen, Neokoros, 85-89 sees a reference to her priesthood. 237 Kearsley, 112. See the inscription IvE 4337 = PHI247714 and the translation and commentary on that inscription in S. Friesen, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 64. 238 See IPriene 34 = PHI252914. 239 Translation in Bremen, Participation, 32. 75

Aside from the title of ‘leading woman,’ Phile, Lollia, Tate, and Juliane have a few commonalities: they are very wealthy; they are significant donors and contribute to public building projects of their cities; and they respect and uphold the customs of their city. The title in GLk probably communicates similar aspects of these Macedonian women: they are wealthy, probably patrons, and involved in their city’s customs. The prominent women of Macedonia are portrayed as landowners and well-known in their respective cities through their philanthropy or political engagement. These women were expected to behave in ways that benefit the city socially and financially. This would undoubtedly mean patronage of civic or other important cults as well as observing or funding civic festivals.

The key socio-economic interaction here is the social honor she needs to generate by demonstrating allegiance to her homeland while, at the same time, funding a Christ-group which may conflict with that allegiance. GLk’s wealth ethics will push her to use her money on the Christ-group but also on the poor in her city. We will see how GLk pushes her to see domestic slaves as honored and that providing for her poorer neighbors fulfills the Jewish law and prepares her for the afterlife. The interaction between her and the slave, of which she probably owns several, will highlight the types of social relationships GLk demonstrates: her neighbors are not only those in her city near her socio-economic status but include even the domestic slave of a poor family.

Luke’s audience may have had some interest in why Christ-groups relied on the patronage of prominent women. S. Matthews argues that Luke may be engaging in a rhetorical topos in which high-ranking Gentiles are converted and become patrons within the narrative; that is, they are largely rhetorical devices with the possibility of having some historical referent.240 While this is possible, several reasons are more convincing reasons both for and against a rhetorical construct. First, the sequence of events in the narrative requires money. Paul and Silas need a quick escape from Thessaloniki, and these prominent Thessalonian women could easily afford to send Paul and Silas to Berea. They could also defray any costs Jason suffered during the Thessalonian riots as well as posting bail for Jason and the others. The Berean women sent Paul and several others to Athens. The narrative requires a very quick expenditure of money and needs believable characters who can provide it. Second, the

240 Matthews, Converts, 61-7 76

characters are depicted as patrons. Women acted as patrons/benefactors in early Christianity and a broad consensus exists that the Luke-Acts narrative depicts several female benefactors as well. Luke purposely links Paul’s ministry with Jesus’ ministry in this regard. Just as women acted as patrons for Jesus’ ministry (8:1-3), women act as patrons for Paul.241

3.2 Middling (ES5) Ephesian Artisan

We now turn to describe the Ephesian artisan, our ES5 character. For our purposes, we will consider our artisan to be a type of craft-worker, but we will not select a particular type of craft.242 Many professions are subsumed under artisan (τέχνη) that were common in most cities. Leather-workers (τεχνεῖται σκυτεῖς), wool-workers (τὸ ὁμότεχνον τῶν λαναρίων), marble-workers (τέχνῃ τῶν λευκουργῶν), couch-makers (τέχνῃ κλεινοπηγῶν), barbers (τῆς τέχνης ψειλωτῶν), and porters (ἡ τέχνη ἡ τῶν σακκοφόρων, “sack-bearers”) could all be considered artisans.243 Large socio-economic variation will exist between these professions generally, and their ES level depends on the city in which they live. Oakes, for example, found a cabinet-maker’s rented space might have been between 8 and 12 times larger than a stone-worker’s space in that particular case.244 As with professions today, economic demand, cost of living, and the familia size all impact one’s socio-economic status. It seems that, for the most part, artisans were able to maintain a small surplus of funds (ES5).

We should avoid describing artisans as a “despised” group.245 Laborer’s social status depended heavily upon one’s perspective. Artisans enjoyed more social recognition than some slaves, manual laborers, and farmers, but because they worked with their hands, the elite despised them. Socially, they engaged in a craft whose products were respected by the society,

241 Other than historical referents of the women patrons, an apologetic bent for Paul’s ministry may be present as one of several ways in which the ministries of Paul are modeled after Jesus’ ministry. Luke may legitimate Paul’s reliance on patronage from women which Paul himself mentions concerning Phoebe in the already circulating letter to the Romans (16:1-2). 242 The following inscriptions were found through the search function of Philip Harland’s website: http://philipharland.com/greco-roman-associations/. 243 Respectively, PHI280219, PHI263479, PHI288650, AGRW 276-77, PHI167269. 244 Oakes, Romans, 44. 245 Contra older scholarship like J. Neyrey, “Luke’s Social Location of Paul” in History, Literature, and Society in the Book of Acts, ed. B. Witherington III (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 259 who ranks artisans just above criminals, beggars, and day laborers because artisans “had no land and thus… are ranked below peasants.” 77

especially the elite, but they themselves did not enjoy social privilege afforded to the elite.246 Yet one should not conclude all artisans were “low” status. Artisans, for example, consistently displayed their trades on their gravestone as their legacy which would not make sense if such trades did not generate honor.247 In fact, the sheer amount of gravestones and variations depicting different crafts “reveal[s] a highly develop sense of occupational pride [and] undoubtedly proves that merchants and artisanal producers of this time had far more opportunities for social advancement.”248 While the elite despised artisans, artisans respected one another and seemed to garner respect from other non-elites.

The socio-economic contexts of artisans almost always involve a reliance on some type of financial backing. If the artisans were slaves, then the artisans relied on either their masters; if free, they relied on patrons.249 This relationship, according to Hawkins, “compensated for the potentially high transaction costs by embedding their production strategies either in relationships of trust [e.g., associations] or in relationships of power.”250 Though some artisans might become famous for their work, we should not think of most artisans as successful individualistic entrepreneurs engaging in market-based economics, but as lower- middling to middling persons dependent on patronage for their stable income.251 Thus even

246 For evidence of artisans elsewhere, see Stephanidou-Tiveriou’s printed collection of 216 sacrophagi and 26 ostothēkai traced to Thessalonian workshops in T. Stephanidou-Tiveriou, Die Lokalen Sarkophage aus Thessaloniki (Ruhpolding: Verlag Frank Philipp Rutzen, 2014). See the earlier English article T. Stephanidou- Tiveriou, “Social Status and Family Origin in the Sarcophagi Thessalonikē,” in From Roman to Early Christian Thessalonikē, ed. L. Nasrallah, C. Bakirtzis, and S. Friesen (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2010), 180 in which she argues that “the majority of sarcophagi... belonged to the plebs urbana...professionals, merchants, Roman government functionaries, army officers, and simple soldiers [along with] a fair number of freedmen [and] rarely, slaves,” meaning such images generated honor for the non-elite. 247 For example, metal-workers with tools (PHI150086, upper Macedonia, 2nd c. CE) and a wet-nurse (PHI150170). For a summary of Roman Macedonian funerary monuments and identity, see Stefanidou- Tiveriou, “Sarcophagi”; A.D Rizakis and I. Touratsoglou, “In Search of Identities: A Preliminary Report on the Visual and Textual Context of the Funerary Monuments of Roman Macedonia,” in Beyond Boundaries, ed. S. Alcock, et al. (Los Angeles: Getty, 2016), 120-36. Cf. the classic study focusing on Roman inscriptions in S. Treggiari, Roman Freedman During the Late Republic (Oxford: Clarendon, 1979), 87-160. 248 C. Lis and H. Soly, “Work, Identity and Self-Representation in the Roman Empire and the West- European Middle Ages,” in Work, Labour, and Professions in the Roman World, ed. K. Verboven and C. Laes (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 288. 249 N. Tran, “The Social Organization of Commerce and Crafts in Ancient Arles: Heterogeneity, Hierarchy, and Patronage,” in Urban Craftsmen and Traders in the Roman World, ed. A. Wilson and M. Flohr (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 255: “Slaves and freedmen did not make up the totality of the world of crafts and trade, nor did they form a homogeneous whole. Still, they all had in common the fact that they had a master or a patron.”. 250 C. Hawkins, Roman Artisans and the Urban Economy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 5. 251 A. Spawforth, “Artisans and Craftsmen” OCD 178 sees entrepreneurial tendencies in artisans whilst adding that “there is little clear evidence for more manufacturing enterprises of more than local significance” and 78

if our artisan acts as a patron to a Christ-group, he would still be dependent on an outside patron for his work.

Luke describes in detail a silversmith artisan in Ephesus named Demetrius, but we will not consider Demetrius as a reference for our middling artisan. He is not an average artisan but, as Schnabel rightly points out, “either a large-scale entrepreneur ... or the dominant member of a guild whose interests coincided with those of his suppliers.”252 Demetrius is wealthy and seems to oversee the guild as he brought “no little business to the artisans” (παρείχετο τοῖς τεχνίταις οὐκ ὀλίγην ἐργασίαν).253 Along these same lines, Luke writes that Demetrius must gather the guild members along with non-guild members for his speech (οὓς συναθροίσας καὶ τοὺς περὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα ἐργάτας). This is probable evidence, according to Hawkins, of a sub-contractual network in which Demetrius acts as a main employer or overseer of the network of artisans.254 In other words, our artisan is a low-ranking member of a guild association with someone like Demetrius towards the top of the hierarchy.

Our artisan would almost certainly belong to an association in Ephesus. Associations gave the artisan an opportunity to generate honor, guarantee a proper burial, and attend banquets on occasion. Members of associations would also share the expensive tools of the trade, like pottery kilns or mills. Artisans faced an ebb and flow of demand for their products, and guilds help absorb some of the risk associated with these market conditions.255

As a contract artisan, he is most likely a freedman or freeborn who has been working as an artisan most of his life.256 Many laborers in artisanal work were slaves, and he also very likely owned one or two slaves. More slaves than two or three created financial difficulties for the artisan which might lead him to “free” his slave to the streets.257 Outside of making products,

D. Kehoe, “The Early Roman Empire: Production,” in The Cambridge Economic History of the Greco-Roman World, ed. W. Scheidel, et al., (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 543-69. 252 E. Schnabel, Early Christian Mission (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2004), 1222. 253 Barrett, Acts, 2:923-24 leaves open the question of Demetrius as a patron or employer. 254 Hawkins, Artisans, 99-01. 255 This is a key contribution of Hawkins, Artisans. 256 See C. Hawkins, “Contracts, Coercion, and the Boundaries of the Roman Artisanal Firm” in World, Labour, and Professions in the Roman World, ed. K. Verboven and C. Laes (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 36-61 for a summary of Hawkins’ key points, one of which is the permanent labor offered by slaves. 257 As pointed out in Oakes, Romans, 44. 79

his life consisted of being managed by his patrons and managing his slaves. A definite social hierarchy is present: he honors his patron, and his slaves, as part of his familia, honor him.258

His association would have a patron deity or hero. Because we have located this artisan to Ephesus, we should summarize material evidence of these clubs’ cultic allegiances. An association of physicians (ἰατροὶ) describe themselves as those who sacrifice to Asklepius and the Sebastoi (θύοντες τῷ προπάτορι Ἀσκληπιῷ καὶ τοῖς Σεβαστοῖς) in an inscription to Trajan’s chief-physician and procurator, Titus Statilius Kriton (ἀρχίατρον καὶ ἐπίτροπον).259 Late second-centry grain-workers honor Poseidon and the association’s supervisor Papias Epikratou (προμέτρου ἐπι μελουμένου).260 Some inscriptions do not mention a deity but honor the benefactor who was usually external to that association. For example, a wool-workers association (ἡ συνεργασία τῶν λαναρίων) honored as their patron the civic elite, P. Vedius Antoninus, “the founder of the city of Ephesus” (τὸν κτίστην τῆς Ἐφεσίων πόλεως).261 Temple-building artisans (ναουργοὶ τέκτονες) also honored P. Vedius Antonius calling him the founder of Ephesus and benefactor (τὸν κτίστην τῆς πόλεως τὸν ἴδιον εὐεργέτην).262

It is not so much that associations held deities as their patrons which would conflict with the artisan’s Christ group affiliations, but that associations held cultic rituals giving sacrifices to that patron deity.263At associational banquets held somewhat frequently, the association sacrificed to the patron deity, other deities related to their trade, and occasionally the

258 On the different levels of social hierarchy in an artisan’s life, see M. Flohr, “Constructing Occupational Identities in the Roman World,” in World, Labour, and Professions in the Roman World, ed. K. Verboven and C. Laes (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 147-72; E. Murphy, “Roman Workers and Their Workplaces: Some Archaeological Thoughts on the Organization of Workshop Labour in Ceramic Production,” in World, Labour, and Professions in the Roman World, eds. K. Verboven and C. Laes (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 133-46. 259 IvE 719 = PHI249247. The physician association met in the Ephesian Mouseion regularly and held contests at least once the second century (IvE 1162 = PHI248245). Cf. IvE 2304 = PHI250309 for the gravestone of an Ephesian physician loyal to the emperor (φιλοσεβάστου) who belonged to an association. A fragmentary first-century inscription mentions a group of ἰατροὶ (IvE 1386 = PHI247885). See also Strabo, Geog. 14.1.29. 260 IvE 2299 = PHI250255. 261 Wool-workers in IvE 727 = PHI249109; artisans (ναουργοὶ τέκτονες) in IvE 3075 = PHI249112. See further comments on these inscriptions in J. R. Harrison, “An Epigraphic Portrait of Ephesus and Its Villages,” in First Urban Churches, ed. J. R. Harrison and L.L. Welborn (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2017), 17-22. 262 IvE 3075=PHI249112. Harrison, “Portrait,” 17-22. 263 Oakes, Romans, 99. 80

emperor. Specific thanks and praise were also given to the highest-ranking member of the association who usually paid for a portion of the meal.

We can see these socio-economic contexts play out in a Christ-group in different ways. From Acts 18:3, we know the artisans Prisca and Aquila hosted Christ-group meetings in their home in Corinth. They also hosted a Christ-group in Rome (Rom 16:5) perhaps before Romans was written.264 Artisans worked in their home, limiting the amount of room to host a Christ-group. Still, this ES5 artisan had more space and disposable income than several other Christ-group members. Further, he has a limited amount of money that he can use on the Christ-group. The artisan will contrast with the wealthy woman, who has more freedom to larger surplus funds, and the slave, who will have very few if any surplus funds to give. His possible use of wealth to gain honor within the Christ-group will be a key component of this character.

3.3 Poor (ES6) Enslaved Corinthian

To give balance towards the lower socio-economic levels of Luke’s audience, we will use example of a Corinthian domestic slave as an expected member of Luke’s audience.265 We have very early evidence of slaves within the Christian community in Corinth. Paul’s Corinthian correspondence explicitly mentions slaves in the community (1 Cor 7:21, δοῦλος ἐκλήθης) and implicitly mentions Chloe’s “household” (1 Cor 1:11, ὑπὸ τῶν Χλόης), which almost certainly includes Chloe’s slaves.266 Similarly, Acts 18:8 mentions Crispus and his household believing in the Lord (ἐπίστευσεν τῷ κυρίῳ σὺν ὅλῳ τῷ οἴκῳ αὐτοῦ). Here again, household almost certainly indicates slaves and children. Cornelius in Caesarea owns two domestic slaves (Acts 10:7, δύο τῶν οἰκετῶν). Luke also mentions slaves in the Christian community. Rhoda, for example, knows Peter well-enough to recognize his voice (Acts

264 See Ibid., 69-89. 265 With J. Glancy, Slavery in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 40: “Slaves in Corinth or Philippi would not have been miners or agricultural laborers but, for example, craftspeople, prostitutes, managerial agents, and domestic slaves, including those whose domestic duties included sexual obligations.” 266 With most commentators and Meeks, Urban, 59. Cf. Rom 14:4; 1 Pet 2:18. 81

12:13). A general description of slaves’ lives introduces this section, followed by a localized picture of Corinthian life as an urban, domestic slave (οἰκέτης).267

To whom might this slave belong? Elites certainly owned the most slaves in Mediterranean society. Roman senators may have owned hundreds of slaves.268 However, as Edmonson argues, “Lower down the social scale, slave-ownership is likely to have varied quite substantially depending on individual family needs and local cultural practices, not to mention fluctuating levels of surplus wealth.”269 Someone at the top of the middling economic strata like Demetrius probably owned 2-3 slaves in contrast to the prominent Macedonian women who may have owned 3-5.

Because we seek to bring balance to the ES4-5 status members previously mentioned, we will profile an ES6 Corinthian slave. Such a slave would belong to an urban family alone or alongside one other domestic slave. In a family who could afford two slaves, domestic slaves would hold a variety of responsibilities rather than just one skilled job. As chapter four will argue, slaves could have significant roles in the positions of οἰκονόμος/vilicus and dispensator, and specific roles were detailed in burial plots or inscriptions tied to large Roman estates.270 In fact, the more one could differentiate tasks for one’s slaves, the more money and slaves one had.271 But for balance, we will construct a lower-middling economic status family that cannot afford to own slaves with these specialized skills. Such domestic slaves’ lives might mirror the slaves found in various papyri and Aelius Aristides’s description (Rom. Or., 71):

267 Pauline scholarship has fruitfully explored slavery in Roman Corinth through Paul’s language in the Corinthian correspondence. See, aside from the standard commentaries, especially D. Martin, Slavery as Salvation (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990); Glancy, Slavery; M. Mitchell, “Paul’s Letters to Corinth: The Interpretive Intertwining of Literary and Historical Reconstruction,” in Urban Religion in Roman Corinth, eds. D. Schowalter and S. Friesen (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005), 307-38; L. Nasrallah, “‘You Were Bought with a Price’: Freedpersons and Things in 1 Corinthians,” in Corinth in Contrast, ed. S. Friesen, S. James, and D. Schowalter (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 54-73; J. A. Harrill, “Paul and Slavery,” in Paul in the Greco- Roman World, ed. J. Sampey (London: Bloomsbury, 2016), 301-45. Similar studies interacting with slavery and Romans in Oakes, Romans; K. Bryant, Paul and the Rise of the Slave (Leiden: Brill, 2016); C. de Wet, The Unbound God (London: Routledge, 2017); K. Shaner, Enslaved Leadership in Early Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018). 268 Secundus, murdered by his slave, owned over 400 slaves (Tacitus, Ann. 14.43); Pliny manumitted 100 slaves (ILS, 2927). 269. J. Edmondson, “Slavery and the Roman Family,” in The Cambridge World History of Slavery (ed. K. Bradley and P. Cartledge; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 339. 270 Edmondson, “Slavery and the Roman Family,” 337-38. 271 S. Treggiari, “Domestic Staff at Rome in the Julio-Claudian Period,” Social History 6 (1973): 241- 55 and “Lower Class Women in the Roman Economy,” Florilegium 1 (1979): 65-86. The former article details the specific tasks while the latter article describes artisan and craftswomen. 82

“in poor homes, the same person cooks, keeps house, [and] makes the bed.”272 Lest we think this is a jab at the lower socio-economic statuses, unskilled slaves do appear in papyri. In P.Oxy. 3510, Herodes gives notice that his wife’s slave, Diogenes, and his brother’s slave, Amarontos, have died. In his notice, Herodes declares Diogenes is a minor (ἀφῆλιξ) and that both slaves did not have trades (ἀμφότεροι ἄτεχνοι); they performed multiple domestic duties as required.273

Since the slave belongs to a lower-middling economic class family, we may make a few conclusions. First, the domestic slave is most likely to be female since female slaves were cheaper and widely available. Second, we follow J. Økland’s argument that private, domestic space is typically regarded as female.274 A domestic slave might be male or female, but we posit that a female domestic slave participates within a female domestic space. We note that women seem to have some to participate in trades in Corinth (cf. Prisca),275 but this female slave would have too many domestic responsibilities to work a trade.

Like the slave in Luke 17:7-10 who plows, looks after sheep, and prepares dinner for the master, she must accomplish multiple tasks each day. She would be expected to complete “household tasks, including food preparation, cleaning, removing waste, and caring for children.” She might assist her owner in their trade or other economic activity which earned money, but her main tasks stayed within the home. She could be leased for a small fee to those looking for workers, particularly as a wet-nurse if she was a mother, but her tasks enabled other family members to work their trades which earned money. Time away from the home meant her tasks went unfinished, and female slaves were often sold when “not needed in the household.”276

272 ἐν οὶκία πενιχπᾶ οἱ αὐτοὶ ὀψοποι [οῦσιν], οἰκουποῦσιν, στπωννύουσιν, “in poor homes, the same person cooks, keeps house, [and] makes the bed.” Trans. in J. Oliver, “The Ruling Power: A Study of the Roman Empire in the Second Century After Christ Through the Roman Oration of Aelius Aristides,” TAPhS 43 (1953): 902, 931-32. 273 P.Oxy 3501. 78CE. Text and translation in R. Hübner, “Four Oxyrhynchos Papyri,” ZPE 30 (1978): 198-200. Cited in K. Bradley, Slavery and Society at Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 57; J. Bodel, “Slave Labour and Roman Society,” in The Cambridge World History of Slavery, ed. K. Bradley and P. Cartledge (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 326. 274 Økland, Women. 275 R. Saller, “Women, Slaves, and the Economy of the Roman Household,” in Early Christian Families in Context, ed. D. Balch and C. Osiek (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 193; Økland, Women, 64. Cf. The female artisan, Sabina the stoneworker and slave, Iris the barmaid in Oakes, Romans. 276 Portefaix, Sisters, 23. 83

Because the artisan and Macedonian woman represent potential hosts for the Christ-group, we need additional social details alongside the slave’s lower ES. We will use the example of a slave whose owner is not a Christ-group member for contrast in our exegesis. Such a circumstance would not be uncommon. Slaves often were members of associations without their owners.277 Slaves commonly joined and became priests in such associations.278 Although her owner might force her to worship other deities, slaves were also allowed some freedom to worship other gods as they pleased.279 Slaves also needed their owner’s permission to join associations, but the sheer number of slave members of associations suggests that such permission was not difficult to obtain.

Joining a Christ-group yielded risks. She risked the ire of her owner for spending time away from her familia. Her owner might, for any given reason or none at all, abuse her physically and/or sexually. If she was a mother, her children could be sold, beaten, or otherwise mistreated as punishment.280 Her peculium might be revoked, or her owner may simply give her so many tasks as to remove the option of attending association meetings.

But associations also yielded benefits. She is usually guaranteed a proper burial if the owner refused one.281 She likely gained more and better food during association feasts than her peculium would otherwise allow.282 She gained a fictive-family with immediate benefits. She would be called “sister,” a term which conveys gender, personhood, and a place in the familial structure that she normally would not have.283 The Christ-group may offer protection to and from her house which she desperately needed.284 As a slave, and doubly as a female, she was entirely outside honor as social currency. However, she would be able to garner some honor in this association where the everyone was (metaphorically) a slave, and she was

277 J. A. Harrill, The Manumission of Slaves in Early Christianity, (HUT 32; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1995), 147-152. 278 See esp. Last, Church. 279 J. North, “The Ritual Activity of Roman Slaves,” in Slaves and Religions in Graeco-Roman Antiquity and Modern Brazil, ed. Stephen Hodkinson and Dick Geary (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars, 2012), 67-94. 280 Bradley, Slavery, 51-64. 281 See the oft-quoted by-laws of an association in ILS 7212 = AGRW 310 (136CE) where burial rites are detailed in the event of a slave’s owner refusing proper burial. 282 See arguments against this fee in Longenecker, Remember, 266-71, and for this fee in Last, Church. 283 On slaves as non-gendered humans, see C. Osiek, “Female Slaves, Porneia, and the Limits of Obedience,” in Early Christian Families in Context, eds. D. Balch and C. Osiek (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 255-74. 284 Normally, slaves would accompany one as a passive bodyguard. Since she is the only slave of this household, she is particularly vulnerable and needs protecting. Cf. Oakes, Romans, 124-25. 84

(metaphorically) divinely freed (1 Cor 7:22). She may have gained an association patron who paid for her membership fees. She may hope that the association would pay for her manumission even if differing opinions about manumission circulated during her lifetime.285

The slave’s position in the Christ-group sets up several socio-economic contrasts with the artisan and the wealthy woman. Most obviously, the freedman artisan and the wealthy woman own slaves whilst this slave is owned. She could easily be denigrated, abused, and taken for granted within the Christ-group, especially by slave-owners. She also has far less money to use on the actions GLk will command. It will be more difficult for her to use her money on the Christ-group than the other two members, forcing this this project to reconsider the social-structures that GLk demands from its audiences. She will be dependent in some way on the other members, but her dependency, though more pronounced than the other members, is not unique to her situation. Rather, her lack of funds to contribute to care for neighbor will be a key point of contrast with others. The harsh reality of her life may be slightly mitigated in a Christ-group, but that will not be explored here. Her promise of a good afterlife by fulfilling the Jewish law, however, will also provide a contrast with the relatively easier life of the wealthy woman. In sum, she is a reminder that social structures limit economic decisions, and exploitation of her body and labor were rules rather than exceptions.

3.4 Summary and Conclusion

This chapter constructed audience members which stem from NT and material evidence. An ES4 woman in Thessaloniki, an ES5 artisan in Ephesus, and an ES6 member in Corinth were chosen for this project. Using characters from different geographic, cultural, and socio- economic levels will optimize our readings of the text. The prominent women of Thessaloniki that appear in Acts 17:12 approached provincial elite status. They would have pressures to demonstrate loyalty to their homeland through benefactions in the city and would face some costs in hosting a Christ-group. The artisan may also host a Christ-group which would afford him opportunities to gain honor. His limited amount of surplus wealth

285 Ignatius, Polycarp 4.3. Harill, Manumission argues manumission within Christ-groups paid for through a collection occurred somewhat often. The point is not that Ignatius is representative, but that opinions from ecclesial authorities differed. 85

will contrast with the ES4 woman’s moderate surplus wealth. Social-scientific scholarship which saw artisans as widely despised was critiqued as being correct only from the elite’s perspective. Finally, the ES6 domestic slave provided another line of analysis in Lukan economic analysis. Her slave status, gender, and lack of power and funds provide contrasts with the artisan and wealthy woman.

Chapter 4: Socio-Economic Profiles of Characters in Luke’s Parables

Using our method described above, we aim to look at the characters’ behaviors and possessions in Luke’s parables. We will begin with behaviors in the parables, followed by possessions. Analyzing these parables will have the following benefits. First, we will demonstrate a more mixed picture of the wealthy, the poor, and the middling characters in the parables than previous Lukan scholarship has assumed. Our methodology places characters in a more specific economic status than the descriptors of “wealthy” or “poor” which will benefit exegesis. Second our methodology sheds light on the social ramifications of economic status, both for the narrative characters and Luke’s audience members. Third, our methodology corrects an overemphasis on a rural agrarian economy in the historical audience and focuses on the expected audience’s urban setting. Fourth, our methodology uses new evidence to correct economic calculations. Finally, we demonstrate that Luke’s parables show some middling or wealthy characters as positive exempla.

4.1 The Good Samaritan (10:25-37)

4.1.1 Socio-Economic Profiling: Behaviors

In the parable of the Good Samaritan, the Samaritan demonstrates a few measurable behaviors and possessions. We will focus on his two denarii payment to the innkeeper by analyzing how much one might pay for food and accommodation at an inn and the socio- economic implications of stopping at an inn.

4.1.1.1 Stopping at an Inn: Cost of Meals and Accommodation

Relying on late Mishnaic material, Jeremias states the Samaritan’s two denarii covered about two weeks’ accommodation and food.286 Though he uses grain prices in papyri, Oakman

286 Jeremias, Jerusalem, 123 and Parables, 205. Jeremias bases his cost of living calculations on late Rabbinic sources (120-124) and the feeding of the five thousand (Mark 6:37; John 6:7). When commenting on the price of grain, he relies on m. Pe’ah 8:7 (R. Johanan ben Beruka) and m. Maʿaśer Seni 2:9 (3rd century) for the cost of grain per person. The former concerns giving a loaf of bread to the wandering poor for charity (must give more than the price of a loaf of bread when four seah of grain costs a sela); the latter to money changing (exchanging a selah for shekels or dinar). 87

arrives at similar numbers. Strangely, commentators seem content to rely on Jeremias and Oakman’s calculations even though Jeremias and Oakman calculate the cost of grain rather than accommodation.287

The value of a denarius for Jeremias stems from the Mishnah from which he calculates the price of bread in selah in one passage and the exchange rate of selah for a denarius (dinar) in another. From this evidence, he argues the Samaritan’s two denarii covered about two weeks’ accommodation and food. Aside from the problematic methodology which reads this evidence back into the first century, the denarius fluctuated quite a bit during the first and second centuries with several inflation rises in the 2nd century leading to the PE. The Mishnaic exchange rates therefore do not tell us much about the value or buying power of a first-century denarius.

But neither does the NT evidence typically used for such calculations. Oakman, for example, focuses more tightly on NT evidence than Jeremias, particularly the feeding of the five thousand, and buttresses this evidence with grain-markets to calculate the buying power of two denarii, but he arrives at similar numbers to Jeremias’ calculations. 288 Oakman concludes that two denarii represents three weeks’ worth of food for one person. Oakman and Jeremias use the feeding of the 5,000 in which Philip asks to buy bread with 200 denarii to feed roughly 5,000 people. Esler too, though not responding to the Good Samaritan but the buying power of a denarius generally, uses this passage in his calculation.289 In his response in Mark 6:37, Philip replies: “Should we leave and buy bread with 200 denarii and give [it] to them to eat?” (ἀπελθόντες ἀγοράσωμεν δηναρίων διακοσίων ἄρτους καὶ δώσομεν αὐτοῖς φαγεῖν). Yet the Markan passage is unclear whether that amount would successfully feed the crowd. The syntax highlights Philip’s doubt: both the subjunctive mood of ἀγοράσωμεν in the first clause and the future tense of δώσομεν demonstrate his uncertainty

287 Nolland, Luke, 2:586; Marshall, Luke, 450; Bock, Luke, 2:1034; Forbes, God, 65; Wi, Salvation, 13: “either a month’s worth of wheat or ten days’ worth of room and board”; Schürmann, Lukasevangelium, 145: “two days’ of care” (zwei Pflegetage); Vague statements in Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 1:490: “next days of care” (nächsten Pflegetage) and Klein, Lukasevangelium, 393: “a good sum of money” (gute Summe Geld). Wolter, Luke, 2:80 rejects calculations as missing “the intention of the narrative.” 288 Oakman, Peasants, 44. 289 Elser, Community, 166. 88

about the possibility of fulfillment.290 Philip’s response highlights the impossibility of feeding the multitudes rather than a passage which proves a buying power of the denarii. The parallel passage in John 6:7 supports this impossibility as it clearly states 200 denarii would not suffice (διακοσίων δηναρίων ἄρτοι οὐκ ἀρκοῦσιν). Again, the different methodologies produced the same conclusion because of the same evidence used. We must rely on other evidence to determine the value of a denarius and therefore the Samaritan’s payment to the innkeeper.

Two additional lines of argumentation can be made against Jeremias and Oakman. First, their calculations consider food at market cost. Prices of grain do not convey prices of sold goods. An inn’s food would not have been sold at a market cost, thus their calculations overestimate the amount of food 2 denarii would buy. Second, neither scholar accounts for the cost of accommodation. Oakman only states “if other inn costs were involved (‘room’), then the stay would have to be shorter [than 24 days].”291 This is understandable as, to my knowledge, no receipts for accommodation costs have been found but, looking closer to evidence from first-century inns may help bridge this gap.

First-century inns “offer rooms for rent, and often food and drink to overnight guests.”292 The Latin terms are somewhat interchangeable. According to DeFelice, a caupona was “an inn that provided meals, drink and lodging” while a hospitum or stabulum functioned as a long-stay hotel though it could also provide meals.293 Stabula and hospitia could contain stables for guests who traveled with animals and were common outside urban centers. Since the Samaritan travels with a donkey, this type of accommodation is relevant evidence for our purposes. In Pompeii, there are at least two stabula with accommodation and counters which indicate some food service.294 Of note is the Inn of Hermes (I.1.6-9) which contains stalls

290 The syntax of the two verbs are similar: a deliberative subjunctive (cf. BDF §367) paired with a deliberative future which cast doubt upon the fulfillment of the question. See this categorization in D. Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996), 466. 291 Oakman, Peasants, 45. 292 J. DeFelice, “Inns and Taverns,” in The World of Pompeii, ed. J. Dobbins and P. Foss (London: Routledge, 2007), 474. 293 DeFelice, “Inns,” 474. See also P. Foss, “Kitchens and Dining Rooms at Pompeii” (Ph.D. diss., Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1994), 35 who states that “any hotel or inn (hospitium, deversorium, stabulum), food and wine were also available.” 294 Inn of Hermes and (I. 8.12). DeFelice, “Inns,” 83 counts “94 businesses that served food and/or drink (popina or taberna) but had no facilities for overnight guests. Another 42 served overnight guests and possibly food and drink (hopitium and caupona) and 9 businesses served overnight guests and had access to facilities for horses (stabulum).” 89

for animals and “an associated tavern with a separate room for eating.”295 The audience probably imagines that the Samaritan stays at this type of inn. A stabulum/hospitum is decidedly not the “posh” accommodation (mansiones), reflecting instead an average merchant traveler who sold enough wares to afford accommodation and food for him and his beast of burden. Already we can begin to build a socio-economic picture: the Samaritan’s stop at an inn does not reflect the very poor who could not afford the inn nor the elite who despised inns. His overnight stay at an inn reflects an economic status in which one could afford accommodation and food for him, his beast of burden, and the injured man.

Although we do not have direct evidence for the cost of accommodation per night in the first century, we have some idea of food expenses at an inn which the Samaritan and injured-man no doubt enjoyed.296 A graffito from a Pompeiian taberna lists what seems to be a bill for a client or an inventory list for a bar manager.297 The list is divided into days and prices vary somewhat. The items are listed in relation to the Ides of March (e.g., 7 days before the Ides) and could show price fluctuation based on demand during this period. In the graffito, bread costs from 2 to 8 asses, wine costs between 2 asses and 1 denarius, oil costs between 3 asses and 1 denarius, and cheese costs between 1 to 4 asses. Should we take one grouping of items as a typical meal in Pompeii, we get the following items and costs: 8 asses for bread, 3 asses for oil, 3 asses for wine, and 1 ass for cheese = 15 asses or 15/16 denarius.298 This bill probably tallies only one meal or, at most, one day’s worth of food. In reality, we would expect our stabulum or hospitum to provide additional food options, perhaps the sausages and leeks listed on the same inscription, which would increase food prices. 1 denarius would feed one person for one day at most. Additional costs such as accommodation and feed for the Samaritan’s donkey drive the price up further.

295 DeFelice, “Inns,” 477 and C. Holleran, Shopping in Ancient Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 135. 296 See summary of recent treatments and primary sources in Keener, Acts, 3:2414-16. 297 CIL 4.5380. Trans. in A. Cooley and M. Cooley, Pompeii and Herculaneum (2nd ed; London: Routledge, 2013), 238-39. The list (“atrium... which a doorway connected to a bar with a serving counter”) probably indicates “food bought or sold” (239). Cf. DeFelice, “Inns,” 484n42. 298 This grouping is the list under ‘7 days before the Ides’. See also Asellina’s taberna (CIL 4.1679) which contains a greeting (advertisement?) for drink prices: 1 ass buys a drink, 2 asses buy a better drink, and 4 asses buy Falernian, a very desirable wine in Cooley and Cooley, Pompeii, 235. A different Pompeiian inscription (CIL 9.2689) relates slightly different prices: 1 ass for wine, 1 ass for bread, 2 asses for side dishes (pulmentarium). The inscription is a humorous dedication to L. Calidius Eroticus and his wife Fannia Voluptas. It is not intended to communicate specific prices, but the joke only makes sense if the items are priced. 90

If the injured man eats only one meal a day, then two denarii would not last him very long— certainly not 24 days as Oakman and Jeremias argue.299 This does not include accommodation for the Samaritan and the injured man nor foodstuffs for the Samaritan’s animal. Thus, the Samaritan does not give the innkeeper enough for the injured man’s foreseeable stay. His offers to repay other costs in full because his 2 denarii are not enough. Rather than a generous overpayment, the Samaritan pays only what he has in his pockets and guarantees the rest of the payments which he could not cover at the time.

The Samaritan’s stop at an inn also sheds some light on his social standing and the injured man’s condition. We have two possibilities. First, the Samaritan and his injured companion are not socially privileged. Those of means and status avoided inns if possible; the hoi polloi frequented inns and, as such, the elite despised them.300 If one had money or status, one stayed at a friend’s house rather than an inn. Second, stopping at an inn highlights the injured man’s dire situation Hospitality typically demands that one takes someone into their own home for care. Stopping at an inn was apparently the only way the injured man might survive.

We can also demonstrate a bit more economic information from the Samaritan’s behaviors in addition to the two denarii in his possession, particularly his offer to return to the inn to pay additional costs. First, the Samaritan probably travels the Jerusalem-Jericho road often for business.301 He is perhaps a merchant, selling wares in towns that are not his own. The Samaritan expects to have more money to offset the injured man’s additional bills when he returns, probably from the revenue of his sales. The Samaritan is probably a merchant, but the very notion of a merchant would certainly not “offend the peasant in Jesus’ audience.”302 Second, the Samaritan cannot spare time. He does not take the injured man with him as he had done previously. It seems he must return to his work quickly or face financial hardship.

299 Bock, Luke, 2:1033 follows Jeremias. Longenecker, “The Story of the Samaritan and the Innkeeper (Luke 10:30–35): A Study in Character Rehabilitation,” BibInt 17 (2009): 441 notes the innkeeper does not receive a “beyond-expenses payment” immediately but does not object to Jeremias or Oakman’s calculations. 300 E. Badian and A. Spawforth, “Inns, Restaurants,” OCD 759: “Men of standing tried to avoid using inns and were never seen in taverns or restaurants.” 301 With Wiefel, Lukas, 211; Oakman, Peasants, 175; Bovon, Luke, 2:59. 302 Oakman, Peasants, 175. 91

The injured man would slow the Samaritan down. Third, the Samaritan’s income will cover additional costs—even if just barely.

We can also place an upper limit on the Samaritan’s income. He travels alone on an evidently dangerous road. Any person who could afford protection while traveling would have hired body guards or security to escort them.303 If he has slaves, which he might as a merchant or artisan, he cannot afford to bring them as his security. They must remain in Jericho while the Samaritan travels.

The Samaritan’s socio-economic markers contrast with the injured man. Just as the Samaritan is clearly within a surplus economic status, the injured man is clearly economically destitute. His lack describes him: he lacks clothes, help, and half his life (ἡμιθανῆ, 10:30). Whatever status he had is lost; he is now the economically destitute and impoverished. Luke gives no economic behaviors to the priest and the Levite, but Luke’s audience probably understands the priest as an ES4 member who won his appointment.304 In any case, they simply pass by the injured man.

4.1.2 Socio-Economic Profiling: Possessions

The Samaritan possesses a κτῆνος, oil, wine, bandages, and several denarii. The most expensive of these items is the “beast of burden,” and so we must define here what Luke means by κτῆνος.

4.1.2.1 Beasts of the Middling Class: The Samaritan’s κτῆνος as Donkey

The Samaritan travels with a κτῆνος, a general term for domesticated cattle. The plural occurs in Acts 23:24 to describe the animals Festus sends for Paul’s journey to Rome as a prisoner. Commentators on that passage and GLk 10:34 translate κτῆνος as a horse, donkey, or mule, but these commentators do not give much discussion to the differences between

303 See T. Grünewald, Bandits in the Roman Empire (London: Routledge, 2004) for travel security measures. 304 Cf. R. Gordon, “Priests. V. Graeco-Roman.” BNP 11:843-46. 92

these animals.305 The term describes pigs,306 mules or donkeys,307 horses,308 or generalized “cattle”309 and always describes a domestic animal.310 In our passage, the Samaritan owns the animal and is either riding on it or using it to transport his possessions. A donkey, horse, or mule would be appropriate for this task.311 Though commentators might state these animals are interchangeable before moving on to another point, audiences would never group these animals into interchangeable entities. Donkeys, mules, and horses are not socially equal, and they are substantially different in cost.312

Owning domestic animals is a marker of wealth,313 but owning a donkey does not have the same social connotations or financial obligations as owning a horse. Donkeys are not as noble as the horse; the mule, as half-horse and half-donkey, is not as noble as the horse but not as despised as the donkey. Horses were the animals of the elite, donkeys were the animals of the middling classes, and mules were used and admired by both.

305 See general mounts or riding animals in E. Haenchen, Acts, 647; Nolland, Luke 2:595; Klein, Lukasevangelium, 393, “mount” (“Reittier”); Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 1:490, “mount or pack animal” (“Reit- oder Lasttier”). Bailey, Peasant, 51: “mount” but notes donkey may be meant. No comment on the term in Parsons or Ernst. Left untranslated in Wolter, Lukasevangelium, 397. For donkey, see Green, Luke, 432. For horses or mules in Acts, see Bruce, Acts, 433; Barrett, Acts, 2:1080; Fitzmyer, Acts, 727. For horses, see David Peterson, The Acts of the Apostles (PNTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 623; Keener, Acts, 3:3328 (horses or military cavalry). For only a donkey, see R. Knopf, Die Apostelgeschichte (SNT 3; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1917), 641.For horses or mules or donkeys, see Bock, Acts, 681. 306 Hippocrates, Heart, 2; Polybius, Hist. 12.14. uses ὗς (pig) and θρέμμασιν (suckling) and ends his thoughts with κτήνη. 307 Appian, R.H. 12.6. Athenians were starving so they “devoured all their cattle, boiled the hides and skins, and licked what they could get therefrom...” (White, LCL); Epictetus, Disc. 2.14.23, “fine cattle” on a farm with silver goblets. Josephus uses κτῆνος synonymously with ὄνος (donkey) in Ant. 8.241. 308 Dio Chrysostom, Disc. 7.134 uses the term as shorthand for horses and donkeys. Luke may mean donkeys and horses with the plural in Acts 23:24 for Paul’s transportation to Felix. cf. Keener, Acts, 3:3328. 309 Xenophon, Agesilaus, 13; Epictetus, Disc. 2.14.23, cattle (κτήνη) and oxen (οἱ βόες) are bought and sold at fairs. Strabo, Geo. 16.45 says there is a poisonous lake which causes cattle (κτήνη) that drink from it to lose their hair, hoofs, and horns. The term κτήνη may include sheep in some descriptions, but sheep as not included in all categories, e.g., Athenaeus, Deipn., 2.42 describes a practice in which Carthaginians give an oily- water to their τὰ πρόβατα καὶ τὰκτήνη. BGU 4.1121 details a lease in which the tenants of some marshland cannot pasture their cattle (κτήνη) in the marshes. 310 Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 5.11 which contrasts κτῆνος with θηρίον. True also of the LXX: Gen 1:25, καὶ ἐποίησεν ὁ θεὸς τὰ θηρία τῆς γῆς κατὰ γένος καὶ τὰ κτήνη κατὰ γένος. cf. Gen 1:26; Dan (TH) 3:81. Ezek 44:31 says priests should not consume cattle (κτηνῶν) that were eaten by wild animals (θηριάλωτον). 311 CIL 9.2689 depicts a mule with a saddle. 312 J. Gregory, “Donkeys and the Equine Hierarchy in Archaic Greek Literature,” CJ 102 (2007): 209 concludes that in Archaic Greek thought “Donkeys were the equines of the poor, the equines most clearly associated with a subsistence level of existence, and their overwhelmingly negative portrayal in literature suggests a dislike for everything they stood.” 313 Pliny, Epist. 4.2 describes a wealthy man named Regulus who spoiled his son with ponies, dogs, parrots, and blackbirds. 93

Horses were very expensive to purchase and maintain. Horses were largely “employed for battle, racing, elite transportation, and display, rather than menial ‘work....’They “were for war, for hunting, for play, for show. Rarely were they used to do work.”314 Horses were a luxury, and few people would ride one simply for transportation between two cities. Elites preferred to be carried in a horse-drawn carriage or biga. Therefore, it is unlikely the Samaritan’s κτῆνος is a horse.

Mules (male, ἡμίονος; female, γίννος) on the other hand, did plenty of work that a donkey would do and may be the Samaritan’s animal of choice. In ancient Greece, mules were the “work horse” of choice for the wealthy, but in Roman times they were used by the rich and poor.315 They could perform manual labor, like pulling marble blocks up steep paths (Martial, Epig. 5.22) or turning mill stones (Apul. Met. 9.10-13), but they could also transport royalty in honorific processions.316 The Greeks withdrew mule races from the Olympics because they lacked εὐπρέπεια (dignity), while the Romans enjoyed mule-pulled chariot races in the Circus Maximum.317 Mules were faster than oxen and one could charge more for shipments and transportation via mules, so mule-drivers and mule-driver associations were common. Suetonius reports (Lives, 8.1) that Vespasian “had to resort to trading in mules” after he lost all his estates; he was subsequently nicknamed mulio (mule- driver).318 A first-century audience probably held Roman attitudes towards mules.

In Archaic Greece, a well-bred mule was very expensive319 which is probably why mules are a marker of wealth during this time.320 Mules were usually used by wealthier farmers, transportation guilds in cities, or drivers of elite transportation. Male mules seem to have become somewhat more affordable in the Roman period (e.g., a Pompeiian receipt ca. 15CE

314 M. Griffith, “Horsepower and Donkeywork: Equids and the Ancient Greek Imagination. Part One,” CP 101 (2006): 198, 203. Emphasis retained. cf. Babrius, Fab, 83 of horses being elite snobs against donkeys. Cited by Griffith (203). 315 Gregory, “Donkeys,” 207. 316 G. Raepsaet, “Mules,” BNP 9:262-65. Coinage of Livia’s carpentum pulled by mules (RIC I2 Tiberius, no. 51) and Agrippina’s carpentum pulled by mules, the latter coinage meant to give honor to her shameful death by starvation. (RIC I2 Gaius/Caligula, no. 55). Cf. 1 Kings 1:38-39. 317 Raepsaet, “Mules,” 9:263. 318 Rolfe, LCL. 319 Griffith, “Horsepower, Part One,” 239: “The second prize for the chariot race, the most prestigious event of the funeral games for Patroclus, is a ‘six-year-old unbroken mare, carrying a mule-foal within her’ (Il. 23.261-70, esp. 265-66) … and the first prize for the boxing match (Il. 23.654-55) is ‘an unbroken, hard-working six-year-old female mule, which is the hardest (kind) to tame.’” 320 Theogn. 996, ὅσσον ὄνων κρέσσονες ἡμίονοι “how superior mules are to donkeys.” Cited by Griffiths, 239. 94

prices a mule at 520 sesterces or 10 months’ wage),321 but other literature shows much higher prices only the very wealthy could afford.322 Egyptian papyri is nearly silent on mule transactions.323 In contrast to the possibility of somewhat affordable male mules, female mules were highly valued and expensive.324 The feminine form mula is most commonly found in Latin literature, probably because “many speakers (particularly the wealthy) would normally only have needed to refer to the female.”325 The PE (l. 32.1.3) demonstrates the value of a female mule by listing only “the best female mule” at 36,000 denarii (120 months of minimum wage). The lack of papyri prices limits our ability to put forward a price for a mule. If we follow the price listed in Pompeii, workers earning minimum wage (1 denarius per day) might expect to spend upwards of 10 months’ wages for a male mule. A female mule would take several years’ wages.

The Samaritan’s κτῆνος may be a donkey. Elites despised most donkeys because donkeys were only a sign of manual labor, whereas the mule could be used for manual labor or leisurely activities. Greek proverbs show an almost entirely negative picture of the donkey:326 “donkeys are inferiors…and deserving only of the roughest treatment. The perspective [of Greek proverbs] is overwhelmingly that of a horse lover.”327 Only certain female donkeys which could be used for breeding mules were acceptable to the elite.328 However, the donkey is the most probable option here because of the very high price of mules.

But these animals were still expensive regardless of what the elites thought of them. Donkey prices vary widely depending on time, place, and the quality of the animal.329 Donkeys were

321 CIL 4.3340.1. 322 In the first-century BCE: Varro, Rust. 2.8.2-4. Female donkeys used to breed mules could be sold for 300,000-400,000 sesterces. Cited in C. Adams, Land Transport in Roman Egypt (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 61. 323 Adams, Transport, 61. 324 J. Adams, “The Generic Use of Mula and the Status and Employment of Female Mules in the Roman World,” RhM 136 (1993): 35-61. 325 Ibid., 61. 326 Griffith, “Horsepower, Part One,” 227 lists the following characteristics of donkeys in Greek proverbs: “Donkeys are losers, greedy, not worth bothering about, not worth using fine soap on, ... so stupid as to require not instruction but only [beatings], at home among the lowest of the low, intrusive and inclined to poke their noses into things, included to aspire to higher things than they deserve, or even to try to be closer buddies with humans than they should.” 327 Ibid., 228. 328 Raepsaet, “Donkey,” BNP 4:663-70. Only the elite could purchase donkeys at the high prices Varro cites (60,000-100,000 sesterces) if these prices are legitimate. 329 See donkey prices found in 86 2nd century Egyptian papyri in visual graph form in Duncan Keenan- Jones, “Sale of a Horse,” NewDocs 10 (2012): 124. 95

cheaper than horses and mules, but they were still a considerable purchase for most people. Columella (Agr. 7.1.1) and Pliny the Elder (Nat. 18.45) refer to donkeys as cheap and common,330 but both authors are equestrian elites. Their idea of “low cost” should not be taken as legitimately “low cost” for most people.”331 We have plenty of evidence from papyri, but the prices fluctuate widely. For male donkeys in second century CE Egypt, Duncan- Jones estimates an average of 247 drachmae (250 sesterces = 62.5 denarii)332 with “Greece to be noticeably higher than in Egypt.”333 The later prices in the PE demonstrate how much these prices would increase in the coming century with donkeys ranging from 5,000 to 15,000 denarii (16-30 months of minimum wage) depending on the quality of the animal.334 Should we follow Duncan-Jones’ conclusion that donkeys were more costly outside Egypt, taking 33% more costly as noticeably more expensive during the audience’s lifetime, audience members might expect to pay an average of 80-85 denarii or just over 2 1/2 month’s wages.

The Samaritan has more costs that come with owning an animal. The Samaritan owns a donkey or mule and paid upwards of 2 1/2 months wages for it, but he would also need a bridle, halter, whip and other tools he might need to drive the animal, pushing the total price of his possessions higher still.335 Luke does not include items the Samaritan certainly owned, like footwear, clothing, or food, so we cannot estimate the cost of those items.

The Samaritan has other possessions that can be mentioned. He possesses superior quality olive oil (ἔλαιον) rather than the common oil (χυδαῖος). Olive oil was not cheap.336 The

330 Columella uses vilis hic vulgarisque asellus. Pliny (Nat. 18.45) writes that Cato quips that whatever can be done by means of a donkey costs the least money. 331 R. Duncan-Jones, The Economy of the Roman Empire (2nd ed; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 249 argues the literary authors (e.g., Apuleius and Ps.-Lucian) do not match the papyri, so they must have other motivations. 332 Donkey sold for 10 drachmae in P. Cairo Zen. 59093. See a donkey sold for 60,000 sesterces in the first century BCE in Varro, Rust., 2.1.14. Cited by J. Adams, Pelagonius and Latin Veterinary Terminology in the Roman Empire (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 106. 333 Duncan-Jones, Economy, 247. 334 Breeding could be profitable: Pliny Nat. 8.170ff: “The profit made out of she-asses surpasses the richest spoils of war.” 335 The listed price for pack donkeys (asinus dorsuarius optimus) is 7,000 while a donkey for riding (asinus admisarius [sic] optimus) is 15,000. A female donkey (asinus optima fetualis) is also listed at 5,000 denarii, but they would be primarily used for breeding rather than transportation. A mule bridle with halter cost 120 denarii. A mule whip costs 16 denarii. See M. Crawford and J. Reynolds, “The Aezani Copy of the Prices Edict,” ZPE 34 (1979): 178. 336 It is notable that Paul does not mention olive oil in his letters, but mentions wine, meat, and bread which perhaps hints at the cost of olive oil compared to wine. 96

common oil is about half a day’s wage (12 denarii in PE) per sextarius, but the Samaritan has good olive oil. He may have paid 1.5 days’ wages for a sextarius. In contrast, wine is cheap. He probably paid about 8 sesterces for an amphora of ordinary wine.337 The Samaritan’s bandages are difficult to estimate. Luke describes the Samaritan as binding the injured man’s wounds (κατέδησεν τὰ τραύματα αὐτοῦ, 10:34), perhaps with a piece of linen or his own clothing. Samaritan might use bits of his own clothing, probably his outer garment or pallium/ἱμάτιον, to bind the injured man’s wounds. Mending clothes was a regular and fairly cheap practice, so the Samaritan would spend a negligible amount of money in the future.

4.1.3 Conclusion: Samaritan as ES5

The Samaritan’s behaviors demonstrate that he is above an ES7 but below an ES4. This places him below the prominent woman, possibly equal with the artisan, and above the domestic slave in economic status. He has some surplus wealth, but he is not a wealthy elite by any means. As his possessions demonstrated, he is above subsistence, but he is not a wealthy elite by any means. Helping the injured man still costs him even if he can afford a future payment. From the evidence of the Samaritan’s κτῆνος and his lack of security, we can deduce that his economic status is above subsistence and, more likely, a middling status.

The Samaritan’s 2 denarii payment does not cover the cost of the injured man’s bill. Previous calculations considered a market cost of grain rather than the marked-up price from a vendor. Using material evidence from Pompeii, we demonstrated that previous calculations based on Oakman and Jeremias were incorrect.

We also argued that the Samaritan’s animal was likely a donkey. Horses, donkeys, and mules had different socio-economic markers and costs with the donkey belonging to the majority of ES5 people. Thus, against Bovon, Klein and others, “mount” is not specific enough an interpretation. Donkeys belong to those ES5+ persons who had enough surplus funds to afford a large animal, giving further evidence of a middling status.

We also argued that some of Luke’s audience might see the Good Samaritan as ‘wealthy’ from their socio-economic perspective. Judging by his possessions, the Samaritan has more

337 See 4.1.1.1. 97

money than some of Luke’s audience, but he is not an elite. His belongings total nearly three months’ wages at the very least or, if he has a good breed of donkey or mule, over a year’s wages. Other belongings would push this number higher: the quality of the Samaritan’s clothes, the type of sandals the Samaritan owns, the various accessories for the donkey or mule. Luke portrays the Samaritan around the ES5 level; he has some surplus wealth but is not financially or socially elite. He has enough money to spend on those he wishes or on material possessions that may increase his social standing.

Importantly, the Good Samaritan is a positive character with some means. This conclusion pushes against those like Esler and Metzger who see GLk as univocal against those with wealth. Finally, the Good Samaritan’s use of wealth to show mercy is example of how one can inherit eternal life (τί ποιήσας ζωὴν αἰώνιον κληρονομήσω, 10:25) by fulfilling the Jewish law (10:26). Below we have summarized our findings of economic markers in the table below.

Price Range Economic Implications Behaviors Night’s Stay at Inn > 2 days’ wages Not ES4+, Not ES7 Leaves quickly n/a Lacks time. Not ES4+ Travels alone Not ES4+ Promise to Return > 2 days’ wages Journeys often to sell items Possessions Donkey 80-85 days’ wages Not ES6-7, Not ES3+ Oil/Wine/Bandages ~ 1.5 days’ wages Not ES7

Table 2. Socio-Economic Markers in the Good Samaritan.

4.2 The Prodigal Son (15:11-32)

4.2.1 Socio-Economic Profiling: Behaviors

The parable of the prodigal son contains characters who possess large amounts of wealth. In our behavior analysis, we will focus on land ownership as a way to measuring selling one’s

property for an inheritance. As the parable contains multiple behaviors, we will focus on the initial sale of land as the primary driver of economic gain.

The youngest son’s inheritance is substantial enough for travel to another country and, whilst in it, to live wastefully for some time. Eventually, the prodigal will run out of money and work by feeding carob pods to pigs. Pig-rearing was commonplace throughout the Roman Empire, but carob trees are fairly specific. According to Pliny the Elder (Nat. 13.16), carob trees grew in Syria, Ionia, Cnidos, and Rhodes. If we choose Ionia as the farthest location from Jerusalem to represent a “distant land”, the prodigal could have traveled to somewhere like Ephesus which has good transport links via land or sea. Ephesus also had a sizeable Demeter cult. Demeter’s association with pigs would ensure plenty of employment opportunities with swine around Ephesus.338 Using the ORBIS transport calculator, the prodigal would travel about 10 days and spend around 300 denarii if traveling by carriage while on land.339 If he walked and spent his money largely on the cheaper sea fare instead, he may have paid 250 sesterces. Shorter distances would be cheaper, but the furthest distances produce a maximum end for our calculations.

Even after he gave a significant amount of money to his son, the father hosts a large banquet replete with musicians and dancers. He still owns several slaves, implying he was not forced to sell them after granting the son’s inheritance. With this amount of disposable income, the father’s behaviors reflect an ES4+ member. Once calculated, his landholdings will confirm this ES4+ status.

4.2.1.1 Inheritance and Land: Measuring Wealth in Land Ownership

When the youngest son asks for his share of the estate (μέρος τῆς οὐσίας), the father divides the property (τὸν βίον). Scholars continue to debate the possibility of granting a living inheritance, but the discussion is beside the point for the parable.340 Land was the most

338 See the festivals of Thesmophoria in which priestesses offered pigs to Demeter. As previously noted, at least one inscription in Ephesus (IvE 7, 2.4337) assimilates Demeter and Livia. 339 Available at http://orbis.stanford.edu/. Donkey or mule, depending on disposable wealth, is probable because of the 1209 km needed for travel. Calculations based on traveling in April. 340 For a recent summary of issues present, see T. Burke, “The Parable of the Prodigal Father: An Interpretative Key to the Third Gospel,” TynBul 64 (2013): 217-38; Wolter, Luke, 2:244ff. For a summary of Jewish evidence for inheritance, see B. Jackson, Essays on Halakhah in the New Testament (JCPS 18; Leiden: Brill, 2008), 111-50, esp. 148-49. Jackson critiques and updates Rengstorf, Bailey, and others’ arguments based in late Jewish sources. 99

common way one kept and built wealth, and the father displays markers of enjoying a large estate perhaps like the Roman latifundia.341 We will look to landholdings to estimate the size of landholdings and estimate a cost of selling a portion of that land.

After dividing the property, the son gains a significant amount of wealth, probably in the form of land, which he then exchanges for money (συναγαγὼν).342 We have some evidence for transactions in the first-century, but the prices vary. Papyri prices in first-century Egypt average to roughly 233 drachmae per aroura (= 2 Roman iugera = 2,756m2).343 We have little evidence beyond Egypt for land prices, and 12 papyri hardly give enough evidence from which one can draw conclusions. Columella (Agr. 3.3.8) suggests a much higher and probably unrealistic figure of 1,000 sesterces per iugerum (=500 denarii per aroura).344 Still, Columella’s high figure can represent a maximum price of 500 denarii per aroura.345 We can take our minimum price of 233 denarii per aroura from Egyptian papyri to complete our price range. With a price range, we can now estimate how much land might this family might own.

Erdkamp estimates average land plots range from 14.5 to 25.4 aroura (4-7 hectares) throughout Palestine and Greece.346 The average size of land plots in Sicily is 18.5 aroura (37 iugera) which lands squarely in the range of averages from Palestine and Greece. Evidence for Roman Egypt averages skews higher at 35 aroura (70 iugera).347 Veterans were paid with

341 See D. Rathbone, “Large Estates/Latifundia,” BNP 7:270-75, who gives evidence that the elite possessed “medium-sized properties” during Luke’s lifetime. See discussions in D. Kehoe, Law and the Rural Economy in the Roman Empire (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 2007), 46-47 and P. Temin, The Roman Market Economy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013), 139-56. 342 The verb συνάγω can indicate a “cash conversion” as in Plutarch, Cat. Min. 6.7. Wolter, Luke, 2:246 and D. Holgate, Prodigality, Liberality, and Meanness (JSNTSupS 187; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 139-42 suggest a narrative irony which verb διασκορπίζω. Though possible, the son would have to convert the estate to currency to reap any immediate benefits of the inheritance. 343 Conversion of aroura in A. Mlasowsky, “Aroura,” BNP 2:19-20. Papyri used from data-file references in K. Harper, “People, Plagues, and Prices in the Roman World: The Evidence from Egypt,” Journal of Economic History 76 (2016): 803-39. Papyri references and prices in drachmae per aroura are as follows: P.Mich. 2.121 (154); SB 16.12613 (400); SPP 1.1 (300); P.Oxy. 4.794 (490.19); P. Ross. Goerge 2.14 (200); PSI 8.897 (240); P. Mil. Vogl. 3.186 (466.66); P. Strassb. 1.19 (73.8); BGU 11.2050 (92.3); CPR 1.188 (333.33); P. Amh. 2.95 (250); P. Rein 2.98 (200). 344 Garnsey and Saller, The Roman Empire, 101: “14,000 sesterces...would have bought 56 iugera [at Ligures Baebiani in Sicily] at 250 sesterces per iugerum, a quarter of the price Columella plucked out of the air...” 345 2,000 sesterces = 2 iugera/1 aroura. If 4 sesterces = 1 denarius, then 500 denarii = 1 aroura. 346 P. Erdkamp, The Grain Market in the Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 22. 347 R. Duncan-Jones, Structure and Scale in the Roman Economy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 128-29. For Italy, see CIL 9.1455 (Ligures Baebiana), CIL 11.1147 (Veleia). For Sicily, see Cic., Verr. 2.3.75ff (Herbita), Verr. 2.3.113 (Leontini). 100

land for their service at the turn of the century, and Duncan-Jones estimates veterans received roughly 20-25 iugera. This figure fits towards the upper end of Erdkamp’s scale of average land holdings.348

Luke does not describe this family as average but as very wealthy. If we lean towards Erdkamp’s higher average plot for minimum estimation, we can say the family owns at least 25 aroura. This calculation factors in Caesar’s gifts of 5 aroura (10 iugera) of farm land to poor Roman families, and the average land plots for Egypt.349 We would expect a wealthy family to own several times this amount.350

Setting a maximum limit on the family’s landholdings is trickier than the minimum amount. The ancient Roman law called lex lincinia Sextia set a theoretical limit of 250 aroura in 367BCE, but the elite regularly ignored it. By the time of the Roman Empire, the elite still possessed a majority of landholdings which could total far more than 250 aroura. Increasing the difficulty here is that wealthy families tended to own several different chunks of land rather than a sprawling field.351 The decurions, as the lowest order of elites, would need land worth 25,000 denarii.352 Members of the equestrian order must have 100,000 denarii, and senators must have 250,000 denarii. If we use Columella’s price of 500 denarii per aroura to determine a maximum landholding, we yield estimates that seem a bit too conservative: a decurion must own 50 aroura (137,800 m2), equestrians must own 200 aroura (0.551 km2), and senators must own 500 aroura (1.378 km2). In comparison, the largest estates in Italy “occupied between [3,500 aroura] and [4,250 aroura].”353 To counter this, we can bring the maximum cost per aroura down to 400 denarii which bumps these minimum areas of land up slightly to 62.5 aroura (172,250 m2) for decurions, 250 aroura for equestrians (0.689 km2), and 625 aroura (1.79 km2) for senators. The family is not likely to be members of the equestrian or senatorial orders, but they might well be a part of the localized elites. We will

348 Duncan-Jones, Structure, 124-26. 349 The Ager Campanus and Ager Stellas. 350 Plutarch, Cat. Min., 33.1 for the “poor and needy”; Suetonius, Jul. 20.3 for the poor Roman citizens with three or more children. 351 Garnsey and Saller, Empire, 99. 352 This varied depending on the region. See Alföldy, History, 127-28. 353 Duncan-Jones, Structure, 141. Measures given in iugera converted to aroura for convenience. 101

use 240 aroura as our maximum which is just under the equestrian requirements as our maximum amount of land.

Measure Cost per unit Est. Family Holding Range of Price 1 aroura 233 - 400 denarii 25 - 240 aroura 5,825 - 96,000 denarii

Table 3. Summary of Proposed Land Holdings for Prodigal Son’s Family

These numbers cannot be tightened further, but they do provide an estimate of the family’s worth in land. Returning to our previous price range for land, between 233 and 400 denarii per aroura, the family owned land worth between 5,825 denarii at minimum and 96,000 denarii at the very most (23,300 - 384,000 sesterces).354 The family’s wealth represented in land probably lands somewhere in this range. Of course, their wealth does not compare to the wealth of Pliny or Seneca, but such calculations demonstrate that the family’s wealth may be in range of or close to the local elites. For comparison, the clever steward’s debtors owe 6,000 denarii in total, just above the minimum amount of wealth in the prodigal son parable. In sum, the prodigal son’s inheritance may have been between 1,940 denarii and 48,000 denarii depending on inheritance laws.355

Before concluding, the remaining behaviors in the parable should be addressed briefly. The other characters in the parable are also described with some attention to economic status. The older brother works the field as a manual laborer with the slaves and day laborers. He also becomes indignant that his father has not allowed him to throw a banquet for his friends.356 Even though the brother works the field, his indignant reply implies a high social

354 Minimum price: 25 aroura priced at 233 denarii each. Maximum price: 250 aroura priced at 500 denarii each. 355 See D. MacDowell, “Inheritance, Greek” OCD 735-36; U. Manthe, “Inheritance, division of,” BNP 6:809. The share of inheritance depends on which laws this hypothetical family observed. If they observed general Greek practice, the inheritance was divided evenly between sons. Roman practice was complicated, but generally saw sons inherit portions of the estate but not the estate en toto. Judean inheritance laws dictate the oldest son received a double portion. Following Jewish laws, the younger son is entitled to 1/3 of the inheritance. If the maximum estimate of land value is 384,000 sesterces, the younger son received roughly 127,872 sesterces = 31,968 denarii. Following Greek practice, the son received or up to 192,000 sesterces = 48,000 denarii. 33% of the minimum estimate is 1,939.725 denarii. 356 The word used to connote ‘celebrating’ is, in several forms, εὐφραίνω. It only describes the wealthy in GLk: the rich land owner (12:19), this parable (15:23, 24, 29, 32), and Dives (16:19). This is the only character that is not explicitly labeled as πλούσιος (see 12:16; 16:19). In Acts, it is only used in speeches: Peter quotes David (Ps 15:9 LXX) in Acts 2:28, and Stephen describes the Israelites celebrating over the creation of an idol in Acts 7:14. 102

stance. His protest at the lack of a banquet, perhaps a convivium, demonstrates the father’s ability to meet the son’s social demands of one who is or approaches elite status. The younger brother begins the story in a higher status but drops into to a lower ES, probably ES6-7, which is demonstrated by his manual labor. The older brother also works as a manual laborer, but the younger son is clearly more destitute than his older brother. Finally, upon his return, the son is given three items of status, a ring, a robe, and sandals, in preparation for the honored seat at the banquet thrown in his honor. These items will be considered in full below.

4.2.2. Socio-Economic Profiling: Possessions

Of all our parables, the prodigal son includes the most socio-economic markers for an elite or near elite status. In the parable, the father gives three items to his returning son: a ring (δακτύλιον), a pair of sandals (ὑποδήματα), and the best garments (στολὴν τὴν πρώτην).357 Since the 19th century, commentators have assigned symbolic authority to both the robe and the ring. The sandals have either been ignored or seen to distinguish the son from slaves. We will argue that these possessions have socio-economic markers that presents the son as an ES4+ during a banquet in his honor.

We have other markers of wealth which we cannot analyze in detail but which demonstrate even further the sheer magnitude of the father’s wealth. For his banquet, the father hires musicians (συμφωνία) and singers or dancers (χορῶν).358 The father owns animals and reserves some for celebrations and banquets. The grain-fed calf shows he had the money to pay for specialized diets for at least some of his animals.

Grain-fed animals can be markers of an elite household, as in grain-fattened birds (Athenaeus 9.284A, 14.656F), but the calf seems to show that the family is not in the top 1% of society. The ancients fattened cattle for these cultic and festive events, but elite literature more

357 Lit., “a robe, the best [one].” See comments on the attributive position of the articulated article in Wallace, Grammar, 239. Contra “the former robe” as in K. Rengstorf, Die Re-Investitur des Verlorenen Sohnes in der Gleichniserzählung Jesu (Luk. 15, 11–32) (Köln: Westdeutscher, 1967), 40-45 and Fletcher-Louis, Luke- Acts, 94. 358 Συμφωνία describes harmony and living at peace with one another. The older brother is about to reveal that he does not exhibit this virtue. See Holgate, Prodigality, 218-21, but contra Holgate, Luke’s word pair does not indicate “that the virtue of liberality leads to social order and happiness” but foreshadows the older brother’s reaction to his father. 103

commonly speaks of fattened fish, geese, mice, snails, and fowl for feasts. 359 Having a fattened snail or mouse, for instance, was a sign of great luxury since the amount of feed needed is greater than any dietary benefit. Fattened cattle, however, were not as luxurious as fattened snails or mice for three reasons. First, cattle put on weight easily compared to mice or snails. Second, domesticated cattle were common and quite easy to contain within one’s farm. In contrast, mice and snails needed specialized equipment for fattening. Third, mice and snails were considered wild animals. Such domestication of wild animals demonstrates control over nature itself more so than cattle which had been domesticated for centuries.360 The prodigal’s feast, then, is certainly an expensive and extravagant feast, but we should not draw parallels with such elite banquets from the presence of the fattened calf alone.361

4.2.2.1 Sandals: Footwear in the First-Century

Luke uses two general terms: ὑποδήματα, which could mean footwear in general or sandals, and στολὴ which could mean clothing in general or outer garment. Because the terms can denote general items in our sources, the context of literary sources will be explored to see how these terms are used. Footwear will be analyzed first.

The Greeks had at least 82 terms for footwear, ranging from very specific to very general.362 Though many terms exist for different type of shoes, most people owned and wore sandals in ancient Greece as well as in the first-century.363 Because footwear is ubiquitous with the ancients’ daily life, it is not surprising to find over 200 occurrences of ὑποδήμα by the end

359 Grain-fattened birds served on silver platters in Athenaeus, 14.656F, and grain-fattened geese in Banq. 9.284A. In Plutarch, Mor. 750C, Protogenes loves Daphnaeus more than “cooks... for the calves and fowls they fatten (σιτευταὶ).” 360 See the fattening of these animals as Romanitas in K. Beerden, “Moderation, Refined Luxury, or Extravagance? Fattened Animals and Ancient Roman Norms and Values,” FCS 21 (2018): 505-20. 361 There is also the possibility that the fattened calf was used as a thanksgiving sacrifice to celebrate God safely returning the son home. Jewish literature often uses ευφραίνω this way (Lev 23:40; Deut 12:7-12; 16:11-15; 27:7; 1 Esdras 7:14; Neh 12:43; 2 Macc 15:27). See also Plutarch, Marc. Cato. 13.4 (εὐφροσύνης καὶ θυσιῶν), Diony. R.A. 10.8.5 (εὐφροσύνης καὶ ζήλου καὶ θυσιῶν). Music and dancing also accompany these festivals, both of which were also connected with cultic celebrations. Consumed meat was not always cultic as one could buy some meat in taverns, bars, or street vendors, but an animal killed at home in the context of a feast was usually cultic. See G. Ekroth, “Meat in Ancient Greece: Sacrifice, Sacred or Secular?” FHist 5 (2007): 249- 72. 362 R. Hurschmann, “Shoes,” BNP 13:407-09; A. Bryant, “Greek Shoes in the Classical Period,” HSPh 10 (1899), 57-102. 363 L. Cleland, et al., Greek and Roman Dress from A to Z (London: Routledge, 2007), 73. Even royalty wore sandals: Plutarch, Mor. 293F. 104

of the first century CE.364 Though ὑποδήμα usually refers to sandals, it often refers to shoes or footwear in general. 365 For example, Strabo (Geog. 14.20) reports that the Assyrians wear footwear resembling the ἐμβάδιον (ὑπόδημα ἐμβάδι ὅμοιον) and Persian military shoes (“deep double shoe” ὑπόδημα κοῖλον διπλοῦν, Geog. 15.19).366 The ἐμβάδιον was a knee- high boot and cannot mean sandal here. Plutarch (Aemilius Paulus, 5.2) explains to his audience that the Greeks use ὑπόδημα to describes a calceus, which is not a sandal but a “half-boot made of leather.”367 The PE reflects an overlapping semantic meaning for solea and ὑπόδημα (l. 9.17a). The PE also uses socci for ὑπόδημα, reflecting the general connotation of “footwear” for ὑπόδημα which continues into the late third century.

Because the ὑπόδημα can mean sandal, shoe, or footwear generally, we must look to the context to see what kind of sandals or shoes would be appropriate socially in the narrative context of the parable. We will return to footwear differences after summarizing scholar’s positions on the prodigal son’s sandals.

New Testament scholars have not given much attention the wider Greco-Roman context of the prodigal’s ὑπόδημα. Scholars have incorrectly assumed the following of footwear: (1) sandals were prohibitively expensive for most people, so sandals must be markers of wealth; (2) slaves could not or were not allowed to wear sandals, so the sandals must be markers of status; (3) lacking sandals is a marker of poverty, so the sandals must elevate the son’s socio- economic levels. These assumptions have led to the following conclusions: (1) the sandals indicate that the father welcomes his son as a son and not a day-laborer or slave.368 These scholars do not argue that the items depict a social elevation of a returning son who is attended to by slaves, but that the sandals themselves prove the son is welcomed as a son because slaves did not wear sandals. Jeremias is one of the first commentators to present this

364 A TLG lemma for ὑποδήμα yields 210 occurrences to the end of the first century CE. The Greeks had at least 82 terms for footwear, ranging from very specific to very general. For sandals, the usual terms, σανδάλον or πέδιλον, are used interchangeably and seem to mean generally “sandal.” In the first-century, the popular Greek terms for shoes were κόθορνος, tall shoes worn by actors, and κρηπίς, a shoe-sandal hybrid. We also find terms for the hunting-boot (ἐνδρομίς), slippers (περσικαί), and military shoe (καρβατίνη). 365 Cleland, et al., Dress, 94. 366 Note Hurschmann does not include ὑπόδημα in the terms for sandals in ”Shoes” or “Sandals,” BNP 12:125-27. 367 R. Hurschmann, “Calceus,” BNP 2:934. 368 Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1090; Marshall, Luke, 610-11. Bock, Luke, 2:1315 for marker of wealth; Johnson, Luke, 241; Green, Luke, 583, and Bovon, Luke, 2:428 group the sandals, ring, and robe together as signs of honor. 105

point, and he presents this argument with no evidence.369 Rengstorf comes to a similar conclusion but turns to late Jewish sources for evidence.370 A second (2) conclusion from these assumptions is that only the poor or slaves went barefoot.371 For example, Forbes cites the Babylonian Talmud for “the indignity of going barefoot” as evidence of slaves going barefoot.372

These interpretations fail on three points. First, sandals were common, and people of all economic levels worn them. Sandals and footwear generally were not markers of wealth. Footwear “rarely indicates wealth or status... Slaves sometimes went barefoot, but mostly wore the same cheap shoes as peasant farmers.”373 Slaves and peasants wore a wooden shoe called sculponea.374 Cato (Agr. 59) suggests slaves on a farm should be given a tunic, a sagum (cloak), and a pair of these wooden shoes every other year.375

Second, slaves were not barefoot but wore sandals and other footwear as their masters saw fit. Slaves’ clothing and footwear reflected their masters’ wealth. Because household slaves and slaves who managed estates were likely to be seen during special occasions, they most likely wore more comfortable clothing and footwear than slaves working as manual laborers who were rarely seen by guests.376 Because “the wealthy would have wanted to show off the livery of slaves carrying litters or the garments of those employed in serving guests,”377 slaves of wealthy masters and particularly household slaves are very likely to have worn footwear.378

Third, even if sandals were cheap, the lack of sandals does not communicate a lack of wealth. Being barefoot means different things depending on your status in society. The rural poor

369 J. Jeremias, The Parables of Jesus, trans. S. Hooke (London: SCM Press, 1972), 104-5; Wiefel, Lukas, 289; Klein, Lukasevangelium, 532n56; Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 690; Edwards, Luke, 443. 370 Rengstorf, Re-Investitur, 45-51. 371 Ibid.; Klein, Lukasevangelium, 532. 372 Forbes, God of Old, 140. Forbes cites b. Pes. 118a and b. Šab. 152a. 373 Cleland, et al., Dress, 74. 374 Hurschmann, “Shoes.” 375 K. Bradley, Slavery and Society at Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 88-90. 376 Bradley, Slavery, 89. 377 N. Goldman, “Reconstructing Roman Clothing,” in The World of Roman Costume, eds. J. Sebesta and L. Bonfante (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2001), 223. Referring to tunics. 378 That is not to say that slaves always had fine clothing and footwear. Slaves wore similar types of clothing as all Romans, but their clothes were distinguished by their quality. The PE gives direct evidence for this: clothing types, such as tunics or cloaks, are called the same name but the quality of the clothing for elites and slaves are listed separately. See further S. Joshel, Slavery in the Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 132 and C. Osiek and D. Balch, Families in the New Testament World (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 77-78. 106

might go barefoot when working, which might mean they could not even afford shoes. But more often the rural poor wore a closed-boot (pero) when working. Going barefoot, though uncomfortable and impractical, does not seem to connote much shame in and of itself. There are several examples of gods, heroes, emperors, and philosophers depicted barefoot, each with different connotations. An impoverished man with no footwear is likely to be more impoverished, while a philosopher or emperor might be wiser for going barefoot.

Returning to our passage, we must explore some options for the prodigal’s footwear. The father asks slaves to put the ὑπόδημα on his son directly before a banquet is due to commence. If we follow Plutarch’s translation for ὑπόδημα, the son would receive outdoor shoes (calceus). But guests usually removed their outdoor shoes (calceus) before a banquet or other leisure activities, preferring to wear slippers or sandals. A Herculaneum fresco which depicts an idealized Greek banquet scene has a woman wearing sandals while the man reclines behind her. A Pompeiian fresco depicts a slave removing one guest’s sandals while another guest who is wearing sandals vomits while being propped up by another slave.379 The sick guest has clearly been at the banquet some time since he is drunk. The slaves are barefoot in the scene. A mid-century CE Amiternum relief depicts seated and reclining guests in a banquet, several of which are in sandals.380 Pliny complains that some rude guests call for their outdoor shoes (calcea) when a reader of literature is called upon to speak (Pliny, Ep. 9.17.3). They must call for their calcea because they do not have them on and, according to Pliny, are leaving the banquet too soon.381 The annoying Menogenes will “bring back the loose follis-ball [covered in dirt and dust], even if he has already bathed and put on his slippers (soleatus).”382 In these examples, the outdoor shoe is removed for indoor or formal activities while the indoor shoe is appropriate to wear during leisurely or formal activities.

379. From the House of the Triclinium, Pompeii. National Museum, Naples, inv. 120029. See K. Dubabin, The Roman Banquet (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 58; J. Edmondson, “Slavery and the Roman Family,” in The Cambridge World History of Slavery, ed. K. Bradley and P. Cartledge (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 354-56. 380Amiternum, relief with reclining and seated guests. Mid-1st century CE. Cited and depicted in A. Weissenrieder, “Contested Spaces in 1 Corinthians 11:17–33 and 14:30: Sitting or Reclining in Ancient Houses, in Associates and in the Space of Ekklēsia,” in Contested Spaces, ed. D. Balch and A. Weissenrieder (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 59-107. 381 Other guests call for their soleas in Horace, Sat. 2.8.77. A guest takes their soleas off when he arrives in Martial, Epig. 3.50.3. 382 Martial, Epig. 12.82.1, 5-6 (Bailey, LCL). 107

The prodigal son probably does not receive outdoor shoes (calcea) in preparation for a banquet but sandals or slippers (solea).383

As previously mentioned, footwear is cheap, and the PE generally reflects this. Adult sandals of all types range from just over a day’s wage for women’s sandals (1.2 PEw) to 6 days’ wages for the most elite footwear (calcei patricii). The cheapest elite footwear, the Equestrian shoe (calicae equestres), cost just under 3 days’ wages (2.8 PEw). At most, the father would have paid around 3 days’ wages for his son’s sandals.

Since sandals are affordable, we should resist any interpretation which rests on the expensive nature of sandals or that the presence of sandals represents socially significant authority. The general nature of the term ὑπόδημα must be interpreted within the social context of the narrative; in this case, a banquet. The study of the son’s clothes below will produce a similar picture. Luke’s terminology is once again general. The context of the narrative will determine what type of clothing the son likely received and wore to a banquet.

4.2.2.2 Cloaks and Banquet Clothing: Στολή as Pallium

The term στολή presents a particular difficulty for our socio-economic calculations. It is a non-specific term denoting generally garments, usually outer garments, for elites and non- elites alike.384 As an example of its general connotations, it is occasionally defined further with a more specific type of outer garment. For example, Philostratus (Imag. 1.28) writes that a boy’s στολή is a purple chlamys (στολὴ τῷ μειρακίῳ χλαμὺς), a wool cloak usually worn by elites.385 Other examples use στολή to refer to specific clothing which goes unspecified in the text. Dio Chrystosom (Disc. 70.8) writes that the philosopher has a different στολή than the commoner (ἰδιωτῶν), referring to different types of outer wear.

383 In one counter example, Pliny’s uncle is said to have called for his sandals (soleas) after a bath so he could climb up a hill to examine a cloud from Vesuvius’ eruption, but his footwear could show how quickly he left his bath and how urgent the situation would be. 384 Cleland, et al., Dress, 182: “Generally, equipment, outfit, especially clothes, so garments in general.” See examples of general outer garments in Gen 27:15, 35:2; 45:22; Deut 22:5; Judges 14:19; Dio Chrysostom, Disc. 59.5, 72.2; Lucian, Scythian, 3.14; Philostratus, Pelops 1.1; Strabo, Geog. 10.3.8. In some places, it may be a synonym to ἐσθής. See M.-L. Freyburger-Galland, “Le rôle politique des vêtements dans l'Histoire romaine de Dion Cassius” Latomus 52 (1993), 117-28. Not to be confused with the Roman stola, the formal attire for women particularly the matron. It denotes a lawful marriage and probably doubled as a wedding dress. Cf. BGU 1666 where a daughter receives a Syrian robe (στολὴ Συριακὴ) worth 120 drachmae from her mother. 385 See Olsen, Masculinity, 69-71. 108

Strabo (Geog. 11.13.9) introduces the “Persian στολή” before describing specific clothing including head-dress, tunics, and sleeved-tunics. Diogenes (Lives 5.4.67) says that Lyco’s στολή was the best because his ἱμάτιον was unsurpassed in softness (Ἦν δὲ καὶ καθαρώτατος τὴν στολήν, ὡς ἀνυπερβλήτῳ χρῆσθαι μαλακότητι ἱματίων).386 Samson offers as a prize for solving his riddle τριάκοντα στολὰς ἱματίων (Jdg. A 14:12) in which the ἱματίων seems to specify the type of στολὰς.387 Tarquinius changed his στολή to a gold and purple ἱμάτιον καὶ χιτὼν (Dio Cassius, R.H. 2.4.20). Aelian (H.M. 3.40) moves from the specific wool cloaks (χιτῶνες) to the general στολή “which recalls Dionysus.” We note that commoners have στολὰς while others have purple and gold στολὰς, implying a very wide range of socio-economic statuses.

Because it is a non-specific term denoting outer garments which can be plain or purple, we will first explore the socio-economic connotations of those who might wear a στολή by seeing how the term is used in Greek literature. After showing that the elite and non-elite could wear στολὰς, we will summarize the various scholarly positions on the prodigal’s clothes and conclude his στολή is not a priestly or royal garment. Next, we will explore the social situation of a banquet to determine a more specific piece of outer dress in order to calculate costs more accurately. We will demonstrate that the social context, along with the narrative itself, suggests the son is given an outer garment like a pallium or ἱμάτιον which fall into the large category of outer garments denoted by στολή. Finally, we will explore the connotations and cost of στολή using the data from pallia, ἱματίων, and στολὰς.

4.2.2.2.1 Who wore Στολή?

The term στολή can describe clothing of the elites, priests, military, and day laborers. When describing personal appearance, Dio Chrysostom writes “if people should see someone wearing the στολή of a farmer (γεωργοῦ στολὴν) or of a shepherd, having an exomis (ἐξωμίδα, a one-shoulder tunic) or wrapped in an untanned hide or muddled in a kosymba (κοσύμβην, fringes on clothing) … [they feel] the στολή is appropriate to the man who

386 Specific to general in Athenaeus, 12.529c: ἱμάτια καὶ πορφύρας καὶστολὰς παντοδαπάς. ”which could be taken to mean “garments of clothes” or “changes of clothes ֹפִלֲח ֥ת ִדָגְבּ םיֽ The MT has 387 and is translated “sets of clothes” by the NET. Judges B has only στολὰς here, but both have στολὰς ἱματίων in the following verse. Cf. Judg. 17:10 for the same differences. 109

follows such a calling (ἡγούμενοι προσήκειν τὴν στολὴν τῷ τοιοῦτόν τι πράττοντι).”388 In the same discourse, he writes that someone wearing a στολή leaving to tend sheep (ἄπεισιν ἐπὶ τὰ πρόβατα, 72.9) is normal dresswear for the shepherd. However, Dio also uses the term quite broadly to indicate famous philosophers: “Each of us has the στολή of Socrates and Diogenes (Καὶ ἡμῶν ἕκαστος τὴν μὲν στολὴν ἔχει τὴν Σωκράτους καὶ Διογένους), but we are far… in understanding (τὸ δὲ φρονεῖν, 72.16).” Josephus write that Moses was an ordinary person (ἰδιωτεύων) both in dress (στολῇ) and all other things, showing himself to be a commoner (ἰδιωτεύων καὶ τῇ στολῇ καὶ πᾶσι τοῖς ἄλλοις, ἄγων ἑαυτὸν δημοτικώτερον, Ant. 3.212).389 Finally, the people of Jerusalem wore festive στολὰς to celebrate Agrippa’s arrival (τοῦ δήμου παντὸς ἐν ἑορτώδει στολῇ, Ant. 16.14).

In addition to the outer garb of non-elite, στολὴ can denote an elite’s costume including the toga. Dio Cassius writes that Julius Caesar was given the στολὴ “belonging to kings” (στολὴ ᾗ ποτε οἱ βασιλῆς ἐκέχρηντο, R.H. 44.6.1), and that Lucius assembled the council in his “people’s στολή” (τὴν βουλὴν ἐν τῇ ἀγοραίῳ στολῇ ἠθροικέναι, R.H. 48.4.6).390 He also notes that the Roman elites (πρώτους Ῥωμαίων) were clothed in στολὰς during the Gaul invasion, and senators changed their στολὰς after Antony’s defeat.391 Appian (R.H. 3.7.2) writes of purple-striped togas using the term στολὴ (τὴν στολὴν αὐτῶν καὶ τὸ ἐπιπόρφυρον). Though not referring to a toga specifically, Pharaoh gifts the now-elite Joseph with a στολὴν βυσσίνην (Gen. 41:42). It can also denote military garb as in the Macedonian military (Μακεδονικὰς στολὰς ἔχοντες, Athenaeus, 539f-540a) or Persian military’s purple and yellow garments (πορφυρᾶς καὶ μηλίνας ἠσθημένοι στολάς, Aelian, H.M. 9.3).392

Additionally, στολὴ can also describe priestly garments of Jewish priests (στολὰς τὰς ἁγίας, Ex 40:13 LXX) or the fictional Panchaean priests (στολὰς μὲν γὰρ ἔχουσι λινᾶς, Diodorus, L.H. 5.46.2).393 To show his wealth, Alexander is said to have distributed purple garments

388 Disc. 72.1. Cohoon, LCL, slightly adjusted. 389 Josephus uses στολή to refer to priests (τοῖς ἱερεῦσι στολαὶ, Ant. 3:151; ἱερέων στολὴ, Ant. 3.158) and non-priests (Ant. 8.266, 8.412, 11.255, 12.108, 12.360, 16.14, 18.61, 18.78, 19.270, 19.343). 390 Respectively, R.H. 44.6.1, 46.31.1. For more on στολή in Dio Cassius, see Freyburger-Galland, “Vêtements” 119-21. 391 Respectively, R.H. 7.23.5; 46.39.3. 392 Dionysius, R.A. 6.13.1; Strabo, Geog. 10.4.21, στολὴν πολεμικὴν. Such a connotation is still meant later in Libanius, Orat. 14.32 (στρατιώτου στολὴν). 393 Magician’s στολὴν in Lucian, Menippus, 8.3. Further Jewish priests in Josephus, Ant. 3.107; 9.223; 13.45-46; 15.390, 405-408; 18.90, 20.6, 7, 9, et al. 110

(περιπορφύρους στολὰς) to his ἑταίροις.394 The women of Salonae wore black στολὰς to assault Octavian’s camp (Dio Cassius, R.H. 42.11.2).395

In sum, the term στολὴ which can describe the outer clothing of men and women, day laborers, philosophers, senators, kings, those in the military, and have cultic, and non-cultic uses.

4.2.2.2.2 Interpretative Options for The Prodigal’s Στολή

Commentators have suggested the στολή in GLk refers to a priestly garment, usually a tallit. Gathering evidence from 20:46 where the scribes walk around ἐν στολαῖς, scholars have applied the idea of “long robes” to the prodigal’s clothing. 396 Occasionally, commentators see symbolic authority in the στολή along with the sandals and ring.397 Jeremias says the robe is an “investiture with the new garment is therefore a symbol of the New Age.”398 Rengstorff sees στολή as having royal, and therefore social authority connotations.399

Taking στολή as a priestly garment in GLk stems from a reliance on late evidence. This trajectory can be traced to Strack and Billerbeck who, even though the term tallit does not appear in Qumran or OT literature, use the cultic connotations of tallit to interpret the scribes’ clothing which portrays their piety (Mark 12:38; Lk 20:64).400 But this imports a later understanding of στολή as a priest’s stole into the text. Mark also uses στολή in a non- cultic way to describe a young man, presumably an angel, sitting in Jesus’ tomb dressed in a στολὴν λευκήν. Similarly, in our passage, the returning son is dressed in στολὴν τὴν πρώτην. Neither the prodigal nor the angel has reason to wear a tallit or any priestly

394 Diodorus, L.H. 17.77.6; Athenaeus 12.540a. 395 Philostratus, Pelops, 9.3; Imagines, 2.10.1 of a girl dressed as a prophetess. 396 Plummer, Luke, 376: “long, stately robe, such as the scribes love to promenade in, the talar”; Marshall, Luke, 610 notes 20:46 where he sees the tallit as possible (p. 750); Fitzmyer, Luke 2:1318 on 20:46 who notes the tallit. 397 Ernst, Lukas, 343 of the ring and sandals; Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 690 of the ring. 398 Jeremias, Parables, 104. 399 Rengstorf, Re-Investitur, 43. 400 Most cite and follow Str-B 2:31-33 and the influential article of U. Wilkens, “στολή” TDNT 7:687- 691. K.Rengstorf, “Die ΣΤΟΛΑΙ der Schriftgelehrten: eine Erläuterung zu Mark. 12, 38,” in Abraham unser Vater, ed. O. Betz (Leiden: Brill, 1963), 383-404 sees Sabbath garments here, but this position has not been followed. Nolland, Luke 2:976 is skeptical of identifying the garments so specifically. 111

garments. Thus, no cultic meaning should be read into either appearance of στολή in GLk. We then reject interpretations that apply a priestly garment to the prodigal’s στολή.

4.2.2.2.3 Specific Clothing for Banquets

In our passage, slaves put clothes on the son in preparation for a banquet in which the son is the honored guest. Because the στολὴ conveys outer clothing in general, we should look to specific outer garments worn for banquets like the pallium or ἱμάτιον.401 We must note that most of our sources regarding clothing stem from elite authors, visual depictions of clothing on expensive gravestones, or, rarely, honorary inscriptions. However, we argued the family may be a local elite and thus elite sources reflect the possibly elite characters in the story.

The pallium, as the Romans called the Greek outer cloak (ἱμάτιον), was comfortable and worn by elites and non-elites alike.402 The pallium contrasts with the toga, the latter seen as essential dress for banquets to display Romanitas.403 Indeed, the “most important quality about the pallium is that it was not a toga.”404 Still, elites did wear the more comfortable pallium. Augustus is said to have given pallia to his companions.405 The newly elite Trimalchio wears a crimson pallium (Satyr. 38). When Asclytos lost his money, he stole a pallium and flaunted its “bright color” to attract wealthy customers to earn some money quickly (Satyr. 12.2).406 The gravestones of elites in Palmyra display the elites wearing the pallium/ἱμάτιον.407 Hadrian wore a pallium to banquets outside Italy (SHA, Hadr. 22.4).408

401 Cleland, et al., Dress, 137 for ἱμάτιον and pallium. See also K. Olsen, Masculinity and Dress in Roman Antiquity (London: Routledge, 2017), 71-74; J. Edmondson, “Public Dress and Social Control in Late Republican and Early Imperial Rome,” in Roman Dress and the Fabrics of Roman Culture, eds. J. Edmondson and A. Keith (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008), 25. Other discarded options include the paludamentum (Gk: χλαμύς) used by “travelers, warriors, and hunters” and the χιτών/tunica because the prodigal son is not naked. 402 M. Bieber, “Roman Men in Greek Himation (Romani Palliati): A Contribution to the History of Copying” PAPS 103 (1959), 374-417; R. Hurschmann, “Pallium,” BNP 10:400; J. Fejfer, Roman Portraits in Context (Berlin: De Gruyer, 2008), 196-98; Olsen, Masculinity, 74-76. 403 The pallium/ἱμάτιον can occasionally denote a toga as in Dio Cassius where Tiberius wore senatorial dress except for the purple ἱμάτιον, here clearly meaning toga (βουλευτικὴν πλὴν τῶν ἱματίων τῶν περιπορφύρων, R.H. 48.4.6). 404 Olsen, Masculinity, 76. 405 Suet. Aug. 98; Sen. Ep. 114.6. Cited in Olsen, Masculinity, 74. 406 A lead-tablet with a curse upon someone who did not return a ἱμάτιον. PHI259998 = IKnidos 263. 407 See A. Kropp and R. Raja, “The Palmyra Portrait Project,” Syria 91 (2014), 393-408: unlike the togati in freedman reliefs, the portraits of Palmyran men imitate honorific statues from the Greek East, normally wearing a chiton and himation and holding a book scroll. (395). 408 However, most public depictions dress him in a toga. For Hadrian in a pallium/ἱμάτιον, see the late antiquity statue of British Museum no. 1381. Inv. 1861.11.27.23. 112

In the second century, Septimius Severus came to a banquet dressed in a pallium and was forced to wear a loaned toga for the banquet he attended (SHA, Sev. 1.7). While most social classes could have a pallium, the wealthy enjoyed bright colored pallia made of expensive materials. The pallium seems to be appropriate for specific occasions, like banquets, or everyday dress of non-elites.

There is little evidence for the price of a pallium/ἱμάτιον or στολὴ. Martial recalls how Mancinus and Bassus own similar cloaks (lacernas) worth 10,000 sesterii,409 but this price can hardly be normal. Looking at material evidence, a first-century receipt for a funeral mask and a cloak (ἱμάτια) cost 24 drachmae (=denarii).410 From lead tags denoting laundry receipts, cleaning one’s pallium might cost between 1 and 10 denarii.411 These prices might suggest a minimum price of 10-20 denarii to purchase a new cloak because it was probably cheaper to clean a cloak than purchase a new one. To put an upper limit on the price, we can turn to prices for togas, a clearly more expensive garment. Togas required a large amount of high- quality cloth and, like the pallium, could be ornately decorated. Martial (Epig., 2.44) lists three items which he portrays as similarly priced: a slave boy (puerum), three or four pounds of silver (tes, ut puta, quattuorve libras), and a new toga (togamve pexam).412 Caution should be noted in using the price of slaves, for example, since prices vary greatly in our sources.413 Duncan-Jones suggests one pound of silver costs 103 denarii during Vespasian’s reign.414

409 Martial, Epig. 4.61 and 8.10 respectively. Martial also mentions a poor-quality toga (togula) which cost over 90 sesterces (=22.5 denarii). In Epig. 9.100, the character is offended because his toga (togula) is worth over 3 denarii. On lacerae, see Olsen, Masculinity, 71-72. Though similar, the lacera is more popular with the poor and would not fit the social situation of this family. See Olsen, Masculinity, 92ff. 410 P. Amh. II 125. Cited in M. Cannata, “Funerary Artists: The Textual Evidence” in The Oxford Handbook of Roman Egypt, ed. C. Riggs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 605. 411 I. Radman-Livaja, “Prices and Costs in the Textile Industry in Light of the Lead Tags from Siscia,” in Trade, Commerce, and the State in the Roman World, eds. A. Wilson and A. Bowman (Oxford: Oxford University press, 2018), 417 412 An updated version of the PE slave section appears in B. Salway, “Mancipium Rusticum Sive Urbanum: The Slave Chapter of Diocletian’s Edict on Maximum Prices,” in By the Sweat of Your Brow, ed. U. Roth (London: Institute of Classical Studies, 2010), 1-20. Translation on p. 20. 413 In literary sources, for example, a boy slave costs 300 denarii (Satyr. 68), a slave girl costs 600 denarii (Martial, Epig. 6.66; 10.31), an eight-year-old girl is 140 denarii (P.Oxy. 2.263), and a male slave, presumably an adult, costs 1200 denarii. Hence P. Cartledge’s conclusion in “Slave Trade,” BNP 13:140: “It remains a purely academic question whether the average price for an ordinary slave was either high or low.” 414 R. Duncan-Jones, Money and Government in the Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 217. 113

Four pounds of silver, then, would cost 412 day’s wages, much less than the 800 days’ wages found in the PE.415 We have then a wide price range of 15 denarii to 412 denarii.

Though this price range seems wide, we must point out that clothing at any point in history has a range from fairly cheap to extraordinarily expensive. As pointed out above, day-laborers to the elite owned στολὰς. Clothing should range from expensive for a day-laborer to relatively expensive for an elite figure. Since we know clothing was passed down generations, these purchases would be made only a few times in one’s life if one was very poor. Two weeks’ wages would be very expensive but within reach for some. The poorest likely inherited their στολὴ, and as such mending and washing the garment may cost a few denarii. Likewise, for the elite over a year’s worth of wages is still substantial for the base cost for one garment, especially for a non-toga garment.

In our parable, the prodigal son is given the “best” στολὴ, which implies additional costs. Gilding, embroidering, or dyed fabrics would drive the cost up substantially and are very likely meant in this parable. It is probably best to err towards the higher-end of this scale. Though, since it is not a toga, we should not push the price of the pallium as equal to the toga. We suggest a price range of 100-300 denarii for the prodigal son’s στολὴ.

4.2.2.3 Rings: Socio-Economic Markers for the Wealthy

Scholars agree that the ring connotates some distinction being made between the son and the slaves, but do not agree on the social distinctions of the ring. Since Jeremias, some see the prodigal’s ring as a signet ring which they think indicates elite, royal status.416 Other scholars see the father restoring the son’s status as a son to be socially distinguished from the day-laborers or slaves. 417 Though some rings might function as signet rings, the finger ring tends to function in socio-economic terms as a public display of one’s status.418

415 Four pounds of silver is 24,000 denarii (l. 30.6). 416 Jeremias, Parables, 104; Rengstorf, Re-Investitur, 30-39; J. Derrett, “Law in the New Testament: The Parable of the Prodigal Son,” NTS 14 (1967): 66; Bailey, Peasant, 185; Forbes, God of Old, 140; Klein, Lukasevangelium, 532. Scholars who do not see a signet ring include Evans, Luke, 594; Nolland, Luke 2:785; Green, Luke, 583. 417 Marshall, Luke, 610; Green, Luke, 583. Nolland, Luke, 2:785 is an exception, seeing a conferring of honor rather than authority. Levine and Witherington, Luke, 424 points out the combination of items “restore him to his original state as the scion of a very wealth household.” 418 Olsen, Dress, 119-120. 114

Rings were a sign of status and rank with just as many social implications as the elite toga.419 Some slaves and freedmen wore rings, and elites despised them for it.420 Garnsey and Saller write, “So strong was the association of rank with apparel that some unworthies at the beginning of the Principate usurped equestrian privileges simply by wearing a gold ring, prompting Tiberius’ regulations to restrict the rank to the deserving.”421 Elites could wear a gold ring or iron ring depending on their status. In 22CE, the senate declared only the following could wear gold rings: “[those who held] equestrian status or higher; 2) possessed the right to sit in the first fourteen rows of the theatre reserved for equestrians; and 3) had been free-born for three generations.”422 As the complaints from the elite indicate, this law was not enforced across the Empire.423 If slaves wore jewelry, the item served to elevate the master’s status and indicated the owner’s possession over the slave. The infamous gold snake bracelet from Pompeii, for example, had “the master to his slave-girl (dominus ancillae suae)” inscribed on the inside of the bracelet.424 In sum, as Hawley states, “the first and clearest message conveyed by the wearing of a ring, therefore, was one of status…. whether legally (or illegally) acquired or aspired to.”425

Unlike the clothes or sandals, one cannot make the argument that the ring is meant to cover the son’s shoddy clothes or bare feet. In the parable’s context, a ring’s only purpose is to display status, wealth, and societal importance.426 If the prodigal is dressed in banquet attire, it is very likely he is given a gold ring which displays and confirms his status as an elite. Such a situation might vaguely resemble the freedman given a gold ring after becoming an equestrian (Suet, Gal. 14.2).427 But, even if the ring is not gold, his ring confirms to onlookers

419 R. Hawley, “Lords of the Ring: Ring-Wearing, Status, and Identity in the Age of Pliny the Elder,” in Vita Vigilia Est, eds. E. Bispahm, et al (London: Institute of Classic Studies, 2007), 103-111. 420 Olsen, Dress, 66: “the elder Pliny reported with disgust that in his day slaves wore iron rings ‘encircled with gold’ (ferrum auro cingunt; Nat. 33.23).” Martial (Epi. 11.37) says a freedman delights in wearing a pound of gold; the freedman previously dedicated his fetters to Saturn as his “first rings” (39.1) which would obviously be made of iron. 421 Garnsey and Saller, Empire, 139. 422 Olsen, Dress, 66. 423 Pliny, Nat. 33.8-36.; Dio, R.H., 48.45.8.; Livy 9.7.8. 424 See also the enslaved cupbearer given jewelry in Ethiop. 7.27. Cited by Olsen, Dress, 122 who also points out (133) the cubicularius in the House of Caecilius Iucundus (V, 1.26) “was wearing a gold hairnet and armlet in applied gold.” 425 Hawley, “Ring,” 107, 111. 426 cf. James 2:2 when one wearing a gold ring (χρυσοδακτύλιος) enters the synagogue. 427 Cited by Hawley, “Ring,” 107. 115

that he is socially important. The ring and the στολὴ, not the sandals, demonstrate the elevation of a socio-economic status.

We have little evidence for ring prices. A lone Pompeiian graffito describes earrings deposited with the money-lender Faustilla as collateral for a loan of 30 denarii, implying that the earrings are worth roughly that amount.428 We can hardly build a picture of jewelry from one example, so we should turn to further calculations. We know that the price of rings roughly corresponded to the amount of material used.429 The prodigal’s family seems to approach local elite status, so we have reason to favor a gold ring. First, the father demonstrates he has enough money to purchase almost any ring he desires. Second, the son is an honored guest at a banquet which portrays him as socially high ranking; a gold ring would demonstrate greater status than an iron ring. Keeping to the golden ring is also beneficial in calculations as the price of the aureus, linked to the price of raw gold, was somewhat stable after Nero in comparison to the silver denarius.430

Ancient rings were as individualized as modern rings, so we will rely on a range of weight once again. In the first century, rings ranged from simple rings which weigh less than one gram to rings with intricate cameos weighing over 19 grams.431 From a selection of a dozen rings found in museums, we suggest a range from 5 to 10 grams of metal is needed for our prodigal’s ring. As stated previously, the cost of metal will get us close to an expected baseline of expense. In PEw, refined gold is 2,880 days wages per libra (327 grams) with a goldsmith charging 2 days’ wages for “simple work.”432 First century evidence skews higher than this estimate. Three papyri referring to gold jewelry average to 300 denarii for 1 mina (c. 28

428 CIL 4.8203. Translation in Cooley and Cooley, Pompeii, 260. 429 Cleland, et al., Dress, 153. 430 See Duncan-Jones, Money and Government, 215-219. 431 See the Allen Memorial Art Museum Bulletin 14.3 (1961), 105 (Gold ring with plasma intaglio: 11 grams), 106 (Turquoise cameo: 6.41 grams), 107 (Gold ring with beaded hoop: 6.15 grams), 109 (gold ring with miniature mouse intaglio: 6.01 grams). British Museum (=BM) collection is as follows: 1917,0501.186 (150CE) is 19.76 grams; 1772,0314.31 is 7.64 grams; 1772,0314.28 (possibly post-1st c. CE) is 12.89 grams; 1772,0314.38 is 4.66 grams; 1842,0728.128 is 3.62 grams but is damaged. See also lighter rings: BM 1772,0314.41: 0.97 grams; BM 1772,0314.26: 2.46 grams; AAMB 14.3 (1961), 108 (Gold ring with emerald: 1.5 grams), 110 (3.22 grams). 432 30.1.1a, 7. 72,000 / 25. On these prices, see R. Bagnall, “Fourth-Century Prices: New Evidence and Further Thoughts” ZPE 76 (1989), 69-76 who claims that the price of gold in the PE may be “unrealistically low” (72). 116

grams) of gold.433 Thus, 1 libra (=11.67 minae) may be worth 3,501 days’ wages in the first- century. We will construct a range of prices per gram from these two calculations. 1 gram of gold could cost between 8.81 and 10.7 denarii, which we will round to 9 and 11 for convenience.434 Thus, a ring weighing between 5-10 grams might cost between 45- and 110- days’ wages, slightly higher than the 30 denarii earrings cited above. But this does not include the common inlays of glass or gems. Even silvered and iron rings contained intricate detailing, gems, cameo inlays, or keys to boxes.435 We might add 20 to 40 days’ wages to include the possible cost of stone inlay and associated labor. In total, we have a range of 65 to 150 denarii.

4.2.3 Conclusion: The Prodigal’s Family as ES4+

The family’s behaviors in the parable demonstrate a few things. First, the family clearly has economic means and is quite possibly among the elite members of local society. Once again, the prodigal’s father was a positive wealthy character. Second, the youngest son receives more money than most people earned in a lifetime. He spends that money on himself or, as Luke describes his behavior, ζῶν ἀσώτως. Third, Luke does not seem to condemn the family’s wealth, but the way in which the money is used concerns Luke greatly. The wasteful way the son behaves seems to cause his ruin, but the father’s “wasteful” acts of celebrating his son’s return are exemplary. The older son, who works in the field as a manual laborer, complains that he has not been able to enjoy a banquet of his own, which implies the father had the means to do so. The father is undoubtedly socially and financially elite. Not including his crops, cattle, or the cost of the musicians and dancers, he still possesses upwards of 1,000 days’ wages with the possibility that his crops and cattle would double or triple this estimate.

The interpretations by Bock, Jeremias, Wiefel, Eckey, and Edwards arguing that sandals are an impoverished socio-economic marker were rejected. We also rejected Rengstorf and Klein who associate with wearing sandals with slave status and Bovon who saw the sandals as

433 CPR 12 (93 CE) of gold brooches (7.5 minae = 2160 drachmae); BGU IV 1065 (97 CE) of gold bracelets (8 minae = 2816 drachmae); P Oxy III.496 (127 CE) of gold jewelry (5.5 minae = 1680 denarii). See Bagnall, “Prices.” 434 2,880 / 327 = 8.81. 3,528 / 327 = 10.78. 435 Cleland, et al., Dress, 162; Olsen, Dress, 65-67. See a silver ring with decoration found in modern day Israel in S. Amorai-Stark and M. Hershikovitz, “A Roman Ring Depicting Hermes Psychopompos from the Carmel Area” IEJ 62 (2012), 89-100. 117

markers or honor. Sandals were worn by all socio-economic statuses and going barefoot did not indicate shame.

The prodigal’s στολή was likely a type of outer garment like the pallium worn in preparation for a banquet. The robe has neither a royal connotation, contra Rengstorf and Jeremias, nor an association with the tallit, contra Marshal, Plummer, and Fitzmyer. After a survey of literature and usages, it was determined that a στολή could be worn by day laborers and the elite.

The position that the prodigal’s ring was a signet ring taken by Jeremias, Rengstorf, Bailey, and Klein was also rejected. No royal connotations were present in the parable. The primary connotation of the ring was socio-economic status. Rings served to elevate the social status of the wearer or, in the case of slaves, the owner. The findings of this chapter are summarized in the table below.

Price Range Economic Implications Behaviors Travel to Distant Land > 300 days’ wages Not ES5-7 Inheritance 1,940-48,000 day’s wages Not ES5-7, > ES3 Possessions Sandals 3 days’ wages Not ES7 Ring 65-150 days’ wages Not ES4-7 Robe 100-300 days’ wages Not ES5-7

Table 4. Socio-Economic Markers in the Prodigal Son

4.3 The Clever Steward (16:1-8)

4.3.1 Socio-Economic Profiling: Behaviors

The parable of the clever steward contains more possessions than behaviors, but his attitude towards manual labor and begging are potential status markers. According to the steward, he is not strong enough to plow (σκάπτειν)436 and ashamed to beg (ἐπαιτεῖν αἰσχύνομαι). This

436 BDAG, “σκάπτω,” s.v.; L&N 43.3: “till ground” or “work the soil” as if for a vineyard (Mt 21:33) or to dig a hole for a building’s foundation. See also digging around a fig tree for cultivation in 13:8. 118

implies that his economic status is greater than a beggar and manual laborer. That he despises manual labor seems to reflect a higher socio-economic status.437 He reflects Cicero’s attitude towards work when he writes (De Officiis 1.150): “Unbecoming to a gentleman (liberalis), too, and vulgar are the means of livelihood of all hired workmen whom we pay for mere manual labour, not for artistic skill.”438 As argued earlier, this is a not an attitude of an ES5 member, like the Ephesian artisan, but to the ES4+ who contracts with the ES5 artisans. The steward seems to display attitudes belonging to the ES4+ status, but the roles and behaviors of stewards in the first-century will give further evidence for this status. The legal status of the steward aside will be discussed in 5.3.1 when viewed through the eyes of the audience members.439

4.3.1.1 Stewards: Oἰκονόμος as Dispensator

In addition to the debt he is owed, the master make use of a οἰκονόμος, a type of manager whose exact roles and functions depend on the type of context we assign to the parable.440 The οἰκονόμος in this passage might be a slave or freeborn, but most of our evidence indicates that οἰκονόμοι were slaves.441 They could be quite wealthy and powerful, like Erastus, an οἰκονόμος of the city (Rom 16:23), but this was not true of all managers. Commentators have used the Roman vilicus as a socio-economic parallel for the

437 See, e.g, Scott, Hear, 263; Hays, Wealth, 141. Contra Kloppenborg, “The Dishonoured Master (Luke 16,1–8a),” Bib 70 (1989): 491; Green, Luke, 590; Metzger, Consumption, 114 who see this statement as one of dire straits for the steward. See further M. Peachin, “Introduction” in The Oxford Handbook of Social Relations in the Roman World, ed. M. Peachin (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 3-37, esp. 11ff. 438 Miller, LCL. So too Plutarch (Pericles 1.4) writes of perfumers and dyers: “while we delight in the [finished product of the artisan], we despise the workman,” (Bernadotte, LCL). 439 For “freedman” arguments, see Glancy, Slavery, 109; Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 2:697-98; Wolter, Luke, 2:262-63; Snodgrass, Stories, 760; Scott, Hear, 255-66. Cf. R. Baergen, “Servant, Manager or Slave? Reading the Parable of the Rich Man and His Steward (Lk 16:1–8a) through the Lens of Ancient Slavery,” SR 35 (2006): 31-32. 440 See references to managers of tax collectors in 4.5.1.1. D. Rathbone, Economic Rationalism and Rural Society in Third-Century A.D. Egypt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 62: “the title cheiristes, epitropos, and oikonomos did not denote specific functions but were synonyms meaning ‘manager’ or ‘administrator.” Note that ἐπίτροπος appears in 8:3 of Chuza, Herod’s steward, and can mean procurator (see 4.5.1.1). Cf the study on οἰκονόμος in Goodrich, Administrator in which Goodrich analyzes private administrators by exploring the terms ἐπίτροπος, πραγματευτής, δούλος, vilicus, actor, dispensator, institor, and servus. 441 For οἰκονόμος as slave, see Plummer, Luke, 332; Marshall, Luke, 540; Bock, Luke, 2:1179; O. Michel, “οἰκονόμος” TDNT 5:149-151; Str-B 2:192; F. Udoh, “The Tale of an Unrighteous Slave (Luke 16:1- 8[13])” JBL 128 (2009): 311-35; L. Schumacher, “On the Status of Private, Actores, Dispensatores, and Vilici,” in By the Sweat of Your Brow, ed. U. Roth (London: Institute of Classical Studies, 2010), 47: “In conclusion, it needs emphasizing that our private vilici, actores and dispensatores were of slave status.” 119

οἰκονόμος,442 but depending on context, the title οἰκονόμος can also be synonymous with the Latin terms dispensator,443 vilicus,444 and actor.445 The two Latin roles, vilicus and dispensator, are most often used as a comparison for our parable, and so we will consider them here. In this section, we will look to Latin terms for private managers which perform roles like our steward to situate our parable.

The context of the parable gives some clues as to the steward’s job. The steward can use the master’s money independent of the master’s knowledge. He is used to a wealthy lifestyle. His key role in this parable is money and asset managing, especially managing debts. The steward’s role in the parable, then, revolves around money: money is squandered (διασκορπίζων,16:1), money is owed to his master (χρεοφειλέτης), and the parable’s moral encourages use of unrighteous money (ἑαυτοῖς ποιήσατε φίλους ἐκ τοῦ μαμωνᾶ τῆς ἀδικίας, 16:9).

Some scholars used the rural vilicus as a socio-economic comparison to our steward.446 The comparisons cited are agricultural management (Wolter; Fitzmyer) and rural estate management (Bock). From this assumption, other scholars conclude that the debtors are either tenant farmers447 or commercial farmers on the rural estate managed by the steward.448 Two major assumptions are behind these analyses: (1) the parable is set in a rural villa that the οἰκονόμος/vilicus manages; (2) since the debt is measured in oil and grain, the master must grow and store these items. Both assumptions are unnecessary. First, the οἰκονόμος seems to function as a dispensator rather than a vilicus. Second, payments were regularly made

442 e.g., Kim, Stewardship, 133-35; J. K. Goodrich, Paul as an Administrator of God in 1 Corinthians (SNTSMS 152; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). Cf. 443 CIL 3.333; οἰκονόμος ἐπὶ τοῦ σείτου = dispensator ad frumentum. These inscriptions are readily cited in discussions of Erastus in Rom 16:23. See already in H. Cadbury, “Erastus of Corinth,” JBL 50 (1931): 50-51 and H. Mason, Greek Terms for Roman Institutions (Toronto: Hakkert, 1974), 71. Mason notes that Erastus might be an aedile, but this is disputed in S. Friesen, “The Wrong Erastus,” in Corinth in Context, ed. Steven J. Friesen, et al (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 231-156. Related terms are noted in Plummer, Luke, 332 who rightly sees the term meaning different things at different times. Derrett and Bock also list procurator, but a procurator was over the dispensator and vilicus. See 4.5.1.1). 444 CIL 3.447. CIL 3.555 = CIG 963, libertatis vilicus = εἰκοστῆς ἐλευθερίας ἰκονομος. 445 CIL 9.425; CIL 6.669; CIL 3.2126. 446 Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1099; Kim, Stewardship, 131-35; Hays, Wealth, 141. Wolter lists only the vilicus but draws no conclusions from it: Wolter, Luke, 2:262-63 Others who see either the vilicus or dispensator as Latin equivalents include Plummer, Luke, 332; Kloppenborg, “Dishonoured,” 490-91; Bock, Luke, 2:1327. 447 Bailey, Poet, 92-94. 448 Kloppenborg, “Dishonoured” 482 says either commercial farmers or wholesale merchants could be in view here. Nolland, Luke, 2:803 lists “tenants of the estate.” Cf. Metzger, Consumption, 119-21. 120

with items of monetary value in place of denarii. Following these conclusions, it will be shown that the debtors are better seen as having some means rather than impoverished tenant farmers. Thus, the wealthy οἰκονόμος uses his position to help other wealthy individuals.

The rural vilicus was, first and foremost, employed for the “controlling of and providing for slaves, organizing all farm work, maintaining agricultural buildings and equipment, [and] purchasing necessary items and products of superfluous produce.”449 Columella (Agr. 11.1.24) warns that a vilicus should not buy cattle because the vilicus would become a trader (negotiator) rather than a farmer (agricola). Late legal evidence shows that a vilicus is largely “appointed to farm rather than to trade.”450 The vilicus is trained in husbandry and should be “a skilled farmer and a good leader.”451 A good vilicus will have good physical strength and will have worked several manual labor jobs previously or be training manual labor like shepherding, husbandry, digging, or vine-dressing (Agr. 11.1.10-13).452 The figure of an on- looker who does no manual labor is found in Cicero, but this likely refers to “senators in the dialogue or other major landowners with several large estates.”453

Our οἰκονόμος does not fit the above image. His role revolves around handling money, not managing slaves or agriculture. He says himself he cannot dig which is, in theory, an essential part of a vilicus’ training. Even though οἰκονόμος can map onto vilicus, our steward’s role in the parable does not revolve around farming or managing slaves, the key roles of the vilicus. Our οἰκονόμος is concerned with assets, bills, accounting, debts, and loans; these are the roles of the dispensator.

The dispensator was generally a slave, though some freeborn are attested, who acts as a treasurer or accountant for their employer/owner. They managed money for large households (Gaius, Inst. 1.122), horrea (custom warehouses), and grain supplies.454 A dispensator is typically an urban slave, but some managed accounts for rural estates as well.455 In socio-

449 D. Rathbone, “Vilicus,” BNP. 450 Paulus, Dig. 14.3.16. Cited in Erdkamp, Grain, 110. 451 J. Carlsen, Vilici and Roman Estate Managers until AD284 (Roma: L’Erma di Bretscheider, 1995), 57-58. Cf. Harrill, Manumission, 103-105. 452 Columella espouses an ideal vilius here, but see Carlsen, Vilici, 63-65 for evidence of training and apprenticeships. 453 Carlsen, Vilici, 61. Variants of the vilicus, such as the vilicus anatocismi in CIL 12.2379 and money- management in Cato, Agr. 5.3-5 probably had no connection to farming. 454 G. Schiemann, “Dispensator,” BNP 4:557. 455 Pomponius, Dig. 50.16.166. 121

economic terms, the dispensator seems to be the higher rank than the vilicus. A certain Dorus was promoted from a vilicus to a dispensator and displays this promotion on a tombstone.456 Trimalchio was “demoted from dispensator to vilicus.”457 Epigraphic evidence shows knights, senators, and the imperial family use dispensatores to manage their wealth.458

The independence of the dispensator depended on the status of the family in which he worked. In theory, dispensatores required permission from their master to conduct business (permissu domini). However, there are plenty examples of dispensatores acting in their own favor or without their owner’s knowledge. For example, Quintilian complains that a dispensator lent money without his master’s knowledge (Inst. 6.3.93). Cicero complains that one of his dispensatores, Philotimus, mismanaged his funds.459 In other literature, dispensatores take bribes, spend money on “disreputable women,” skim money from tenant’s rent, and “misplace” money from their master’s accounts.460

The general roles of the dispensator seem to align better with the function of the rich man’s οἰκονόμος.461 The essential duty of money management is at the heart of the parable, and this reflects the main job of the dispensator. The financial responsibilities of the dispensator should help shed further light on the οἰκονόμος. Like a dispensator, an οἰκονόμος could also become very wealthy, and they were well-known for padding their own pockets.462 Just as a dispensator, an οἰκονόμος could have some authority but was never the highest in authority; both were “middle clerical roles” who worked under the very wealthy and, most of the time, the elite.

456 CIL 6.278. Cited with commentary in Schumacher, “Staus,” 41. 457 Satyr. 69.3, quote and citation by H. Mouritsen, The Freedman in the Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 199. 458 Carlsen, Vilici, 148-49. 459 Philotimus’ mismanagement in Cic., Att., 7.3.7. Cic. Att. 10.9.1: “What an ass he is, and how many lies he tells on Pompey’s behalf!” (Bailey, LCL). Cf. Philotimes blamed for tardy delivery of letters (Att. 5.17.1). 460 Taking bribes: Ps-Quint. Decl. 353 (admission under torture); money on disreputable women (apud quandam mulierculam) in Alfenus, Dig. 11.3.16; skimming rent in Dig. 40.7.40; general mismanagement in cf. Martial, Epi. 5.42; Satyr. 53; Quint. Inst. 6.3.93. 461 Dispensator and arcarius are suggested as close Latin equivalents in Friesen, “Erastus,” 248. K. Verboven, “Dispensator,” EAH 2166-67 gives οἰκονόμος as the Greek equivalent of dispensator. 462 E.g., Tiberius in Lucian, Timon, 14. Lucian says one must wait on the οἰκονόμος (θεραπευτέος δὲ καὶ ὁ οἰκονόμος) in order to get one’s money (Merc. cond. 38). Philip wasted his master’s money (Athenaeus 4.167a). See extensive examples in Carlsen, Vilici, 145-57. 122

4.3.2 Socio-Economic Profiling: Possessions

In the parable of the clever steward, we have three characters: a rich man (ἄνθρωπός τις ἦν πλούσιος), his steward (οἰκονόμος), and his debtors (χρεοφειλέτης). Just how rich is this rich man? He can loan massive amounts of material possessions: 100 baths (βάτους) of good quality olive oil (ἔλαιον) and 100 kors (κόρους) of wheat (σῖτος). We address the following questions: (1) how much olive oil and wheat is meant here; (2) how much would that amount cost; (3) what type of person is likely to owe that amount of debt; (4) what is the economic status of the steward and the debtors.

4.3.2.1 Grain and Oil: Determining Measures and Weights

As stated earlier, a key contribution of this project is reevaluating typical evidence for exegesis and the perspectives through which we see that evidence. As such, the βάτος and κόρος measurements should be viewed from the perspective of Luke’s audience. These measurements are not used outside Judea, but Luke’s audience expects each ἔθνος to have its own measures, calendar, currency, and customs.463 Augustus sought to make Roman weight and currency the Empire’s standard, but, even the somewhat standard modius has variation between, for example, Italy and Egypt. The Greek amphora was roughly 34 liters compared to the smaller Roman amphora of 25 liters. The same coin could have different values in different cities. For example, the Athenian tetradrachma was worth four denarii throughout most of the Empire, but it was worth three denarii in Chios, and one denarius in Egypt.464 Luke’s audience would be used to different measures even if they had not personally used one.

Luke’s audience probably related a bath of olive oil to an amphora of olive oil simply because that is the most common vessel for olive oil. It is also roughly equivalent to the measure of a bath and, as with amphora, the container may also be the name of the measure.465 In contrast, grain measures were not visualized as a vessel because the kor, modius, artab, and medimnos were massive quantities. Even if Luke’s audience did not know how much 1 kor was in terms

463 As in S. Mason, “Jews, Judaeans, Judaizing, Judaism: Problems of Categorization in Ancient History,” JSJ 38 (2007): 457-512. 464 See S. von Reden, Money in Classical Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 88-100. 465 See R. Kletter, “Vessels and Measures,” on this point. 123

of 1 medimnos, they would understand that a human could not carry 100 measures of it alone. Since donkeys or mules transported wheat in wagons to be distributed throughout cities, Luke’s audience would conceptually visualize 1 kor of wheat as a sack of wheat large enough that a beast of burden would need transport it. Additionally, Josephus, who had firsthand knowledge of these measurements, varies widely in his calculations. Luke’s purpose for including these measurements both demonstrates the large scale of the debts and locates the parable to Judea.466

Though the kor and bath were used in the first century, a precise calculation for either measure is nearly impossible.467 The kor was “known from biblical tradition but also part of Syro-Palestinian material culture, including that of Judaism in early Roman Israel.”468 The kor was still used in the second century to measure dry goods along with other regional measurements.469 Outside of Luke’s passage, the bath is known as a measure in the first century from the DSS and later commentary from the Mishnah and Talmud.470

Our evidence ranges widely and limits our ability to make definitive conclusions about the size and capacity of the kor and bath. Ancient literary sources are also wide ranging. Josephus writes that 70 kors measures about 41 Attic μέδιμνοι (~1.7 kor = 1 μέδιμνος,~88 liters) but elsewhere that 1 kor is equivalent to 10 μέδιμνοι (0.1 kor = 1 μέδιμνος, 5.2 liters).471 Fragments from Cornelius Alexander Polyhistor, a first century BCE grammarian preserved in Eusebius (H.E. 9.33), explains that 1 kor of wheat is 6 artabs (0.3 kor = 1 μέδιμνος, 15.6 liters).472 In the 4th century, Epiphanius wrote in his Treatise on Weights and Measures that

466 Regardless of possible Semitic influences behind the text, this use of Semitic measurements and language (e.g., μαμωνᾶς) conveys to his audience the Semitic setting and language of the narrative by using ‘local color.’ 467 “Weights and Measures” in Encyclopedia Judaica (2006) 20:700-08. See Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 74-77 for bibliography and usage of κόρος. No measurements given. 468 Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 77. 469 P. Babatha 16 several times in reference to taxes for a date orchard (e.g., κόρον ἕνα… κόρους τρεῖς πατητοῦ). P. Yadin 21 of 2 kors and 5 se’ah (κόρους δύο σάτα πέντε) with the Aramaic plural of the Hebrew ,as an abbreviation according to Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms כ term se’ah. Possibly 4Q352 which may use 75. 470 E.g., m. Bava Metzia 3.7; t. Bava Metzia 40a. See references to measurements in A. Segrè, “A Documentary Analysis of Ancient Palestinian Units of Measure” JBL 64 (1945): 357-75. 471 Ant. 3.321, 15.314 respectively. See J. Norton, Contours in the Text (LNTS 430; London: T&T Clark, 2011), 70-72 for possible use of MT and LXX in different places factoring into Josephus’ inconsistency. Additionally, the kor seems to have merged with the homer during the post-exilic period. 472 Cornelius Alexander Polyhistor, Frag., 18.75-77: ὁ δὲ κόρος ἐστὶν ἀρταβῶν ἕξ… ὁ δὲ κόρος τοῦ οἴνου ἐστὶ μέτρα δέκα. Also preserved in Eupolemous, Frag. 4, a fictional letter from Solomon to Suron of Tyre. Text reproduced in Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 75. 124

the kor is 30 modii (1 kor = ~50 μέδιμνοι, 262 liters). Older scholarship for the kor range from 218 to 400 liters.473 More recent scholarship which considers a change over time suggests between 150 liters to 360 liters.474 We will opt for the higher end of this range to account for (1) Josephus’ estimate that 1 kor = 7 μέδιμνοι (~367 liters) and (2) within the standard range of most scholars.475

For the bath, we face a similar problem. The bath was a liquid measure, perhaps the ancient storage jars known as the bt lmlk jars, which varied substantially.476 Josephus also explains that 1 bath measures 72 sextarii (~39 liters, Ant. 8.57) but elsewhere measures 1 bath at 19 sextarii (~9.5 liters, Ant. 3.142). Aside from Josephus’ conversations and Luke’s text, first century vessels explicitly called bath have not been found perhaps due to the merging of the bath and ephah.477 Material finds of the bt lmlk jars produce a range of 15 to 36 liters, but these jars are from the first temple period and so probably are not wholly representative for first century CE measurements.478 We will take the middle ground here, leaning on the slightly larger measurement for post-exilic vessels, and suggest that a bath is 23 liters which is roughly equivalent to the Roman amphora (~26 liters).479

Using our rubric that 1 kor = 7 μέδιμνοι, we get an estimate of 367 liters per kor.480 Converting that number into prices is messy for three reasons: (1) the PE uses modius for

473 Segrè, “Measure,” (218 l); R. de Vaux, Ancient Israel, trans. J. McHugh (New York: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1961), 202 (240 l); Jeremias, Jerusalem, 129 (394 l); Oakman, Peasant, 29 (400 l). NIDOTTE 1:384-85 and “Weights and Measures” in Encyclopedia ” הָפיֵא “ ,liters in R. Fuller 360 474 Judaica (2006) 20:702; 150-220 liters in Kletter, “Vessels” 29. 475 With L. Feldman, Flavius Josephus (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 329; Fitzmyer, Luke 2:1101; Nolland, .1:384-85 ” הָפיֵא “ ,Luke 2:799; Fuller 476 O. Lipschits, et al., “The Enigma of the Biblical Bath and the System of Liquid Volume Measurement during the First Temple Period” Ugarit Forschungen 42 (2010): 453-78 argue the bath was a vessel rather than a measurement. R. Kletter, “Vessels and Measures: The Biblical Liquid Capacity System” IEJ 64 (2014): 22-37 argues the opposite. 477 See A. Berlin, “Jewish Life Before the Revolt: The Archaeological Evidence” JSJ 36 (2005): 417-70 and M. Broshi, “Agriculture and Economy in Roman Palestine: Seven Notes on the Babatha Archive,” IEJ 42 (1992), 230-40 who notes kor but not bath. See Ezek 45:11 for merging and 4Q513 frags. 1, col. 1 which quotes the Ezek passage. 478 Kletter, “Vessels,” 23; Lipschits, et al., “Bath” 461-62. Initial report of a 20-liter jar labeled bt lmlk jar stems from W. Albright, “The Excavation of Tell Beit Mirsim” AASOR 21-22 (1943): 58, 78. Report of a 22-liter jar from ca. 8th century BCE labeled bt in D. Ussishkin, “Excavations of Tel Lachish–1973-1977 Preliminary Report” Tel Aviv 39: 85-87. 479 With Segrè, “Measure,” 360 (21.83 liters); Marshall, Luke, 618 who notes the range between 22 and 39 liters. See also Epiphanius, Weights and Measures, 45d-46a states that the bath = 50 xestrai (= 27.3 liters). 480 A μέδιμνος was roughly 52 liters with “considerable regional differences,” in H.-J. Schulzki, “Medimnos,” BNP 8:583. If a μέδιμνος is roughly equal to 6 modii (‘bushels’) as in Duncan-Jones, 125

measurements while Egyptian papyri uses artabas; (2) the price of wheat per modius fluctuates often with weather conditions, trade, taxation, and supply from shipments from abroad; (3) each conversion is an estimate which blurs the final number from any ancient reality. Therefore, all calculations are estimates and should not be taken as definitive.

At the end of the first-century CE, Syrian Antioch’s wheat cost about 2.25 sesterces per modius while the same amount of wheat cost about 4 sesterces in Italy around the same time.481 Averaging these amounts to 3 sesterces per modius gives an average price of 126 sesterces per kor. Using this calculation, 100 kors would equal roughly 12,600 sesterces (=3,150 denarii).

Measurements (Unit) Equivalent Est. Price (1st. c) 1 kor (367.71 l) 7 μέδιμνοι; 42 modii; 17.5 126 sesterces (31.5 denarii) artabs 1 μέδιμνος (52.53 l) 6 modii 18 sesterces 1 bath (39 l)* 72 sextarii* 36 sesterces (9 denarii) 1 artab (29.16 l) 3.33 modii 9.99 sesterces 1 modius (8.75 l) 3 sesterces 1 sextarius (0.55 l)* 2 - 6.4 sesterces

Table 5. Summary of Measurements and Prices for Oil and Grain Calculations. Liquid Measure Indicated with *.

Just as with wheat, putting a price on olive oil is tricky. In the PE, 1 sextarius of good quality oil costs 40 denarii (1.6 PEw). Calculations confined to the PE would conclude that 100 baths would cost 288,800 PE denarii (7,200 PEw).482 That puts 1 bath of olive oil at 3.2 day’s wages in the first century.483 Looking to evidence closer to the audience’s lifetime, olive oil prices are much lower at roughly 0.5-0.75 denarius per liter near the end of the first-century BCE.484 When converted to liters, Josephus portrays olive oil costs between .038 and 0.908

Structure, 115, a kor is roughly 42 modii. Cf. The PE where 1 Italian modius = .667 modius castrensis = 66.667 denarii. Oakman, Peasant, sees a kor as a slightly larger 400 liters. 481 Duncan-Jones, Structure, 150. 482 72 sextarii equals 39.312 liters, so 7,200 sextarii equals roughly 3,931.2 liters. 483 1 sextarius = 0.546 liters which = 40 denarii. Estimating a sextarius at ½ liter yields roughly 80 denarii per liter. 484 According to T. Frank, Economic, 200, 220. Cited in T. Williams, “Benefiting the Community Through Good Works? The Economic Feasibility of Civic Benefaction in 1 Peter,” JGRChJ 9 (2013): 178. 126

denarii per liter which fits into Tenney’s calculations.485 Compared to the late prices of 3.5 days’ wages, the first century price seems to be roughly 1/2 denarius to 1 denarius per liter. Keeping to ancient measurements, olive oil might cost between 2 - 6.4 sesterces per sextarius. We will estimate that the average cost of olive oil per sextarius is roughly half a denarius, preferring the higher end of the cost.

Returning to the parable equipped with calculations, the wheat debtor owes 100 kors that cost 3,150 denarii. The olive oil debtor owes 100 baths of olive oil that cost 3,600 denarii. Thus, the rich man in the parable is owed 6,750 denarii. Since these estimates are already in days’ wages (=denarius), a day laborer would have to work over 10 years to earn the equivalent of 100 baths of oil and around 11 years to gain the equivalent of 100 kors of wheat.

The debt reduction can also be calculated. Jeremias estimates 100 baths of oil costs 1,000 denarii while 100 kors of wheat cost about 2,500 denarii. With these estimates, he calculates the amount of debt eliminated adds up to about 500 denarii.486 Though Jeremias depends on very late sources for the price of grain (b. Meṣiʿa 5:1), nearly every commentator follows his calculation.487 The steward gives a reduction of 50 baths of olive oil, and 20 kors of wheat. Using our prices, 50 baths translates to 450 denarii while 20 kors might cost 630 denarii. The combined debt reduction is 1,080 denarii, more than double Jeremias’ calculations.488

4.3.2.2 Loans and Debts: Large Loans and Payments of Taxes with Crops

These calculations give additional insight into the socio-economic contexts of the debtors. Noting the large amount of wheat and oil loaned and owed, some commentators argue that

485 In Jerusalem, 26.2 liters at 1 drachma; 1 liter would equal 10/28 denarii = 0.38. 10.916 liters at 1 drachma; 1 liter would equal 0.0915 drachma. In Syria, 13.1 liters = 1 drachma; 1 liter = 0.0763 denarii. In Philippi, 1.092 liter = 1 drachma; 1 liter = 0.908 denarii. Slightly different numbers than Williams, “Benefiting the Community,” 178-79. 486 Jeremias, Parables, 181. Derrett, “Law” also reads this tractate back into this parable. See criticism in J. Kloppenborg, “Dishonoured,”: 485ff. See eliminated debt of 500 denarii in stemming from Jeremias in Bailey, Poet, 101; Bock, Luke, 2:1331; Hays, Wealth, 142. See further Dennis J. Ireland, Stewardship and the Kingdom of God (NovTSup 70; Leiden: Brill, 1992), 54. 487 For 100 measures of oil = 1,000 denarii, see Marshall, Luke, 619; Bailey, Poet, 101; Bock, Luke, 2:1331; Kim, Stewardship, 151; Snodgrass, Stories, 406. Bovon, Luke, 2:448 sees less: “500-600 days’ labor” (=denarii) and Metzger, Consumption, 118 who follows Bovon. Edwards, Luke, 452: “several years’ wages.” Klein, Lukasevangelium, 539-41 does not cite monetary value but uses Jeremias’ measurements. Scholars who see the debts are proportionally equal again following Jeremias, Parables, 181. 488 Contra S. Pellegrini, “Ein ‘ungetreuer’ οἰκονόμος (Lk 16,1–9)?” BZ 48 (2004): 161-78 who estimates debt relief of 73,000 denarii from oil and 50,000 denarii from wheat using field sizes and possible yields. 127

the debtors are tenant farmers or day laborers who will pay their loan off through the yield of their crops.489 Though this seems reasonable, the οἰκονόμος knows that the debtors have their own houses (οἶκος), and he hopes to be welcomed into those houses. Tenant farmers were notoriously poor, and it is unlikely such a man who despises manual labor will want to be welcomed into a cramped, dirty room of a house. Rather, the debtors are more likely to be of some means because (1) the steward, who is status-conscious, does not object to the possibility of finding of home with these debtors; (2) the debtors must have put up significant collateral for such loans; (3) the wheat and oil were likely “cashed in” for a significant amount of money.

As an example of the amount of collateral needed for loans, we know a grain-dealer in Pompeii, the freedman G. Novius Eunus, who borrowed 10,000 sesterces from Evenus Primianus through his slave named Hesychus.490 According to the wax tablet, Eunus pledged roughly 7,000 modii of Alexandrian wheat and 4,000 modii of other food items as collateral for his 10,000 sesterces loan; the food items were then deposited into the Horrea Bassiana (public warehouse). A lease dated four days later reveal Eunus’ has another 200 sacks of vegetables he stored in that same warehouse.

Eunus’ reason for getting the loan is unimportant. The key here is that he had, at his disposal, over 11,000 modii + 200 sacks of food to put as collateral for a loan of 10,000 sesterces. In the same archive, P. Annius Seleucus uses 13,000 modii of wheat as collateral for his loan.491 In comparison, it is very likely the debtors gave the master some sort of collateral in exchange for the substantial amounts of oil and grain.

Payments of all sorts were regularly made with crops instead of coins throughout the Roman Empire. In Egypt, “payments in wheat, loans in wheat, and wheat-payments [were used] as rent for other crops.”492 In addition, official payments to the government via taxes were paid

489 Bailey, Poet, 92-94; Oakman, Peasant, 11-39; Udoh, “Slave,” 328. Cf. Forbes, God, 156. 490 Pompeiian wax tablets published in J. Crook, “Working Notes on Some of the New Pompeii Tablets,” ZPE 29 (1976): 229-39 now updated in Joseph G. Wolf and John A. Crook, Rechtsurkunden in Vulgärlatein aus den Jahren 37-39 n. Chr. (Heidelberg: Winter, 1989). cf. TPSulp 51. 491 See esp. L. Casson, “The Role of the State in Rome’s Grain Trade,” in The Seaborne Commerce of Ancient Rome, ed. J. D’Arms and E. Kopff (Rome: American Academy in Rome, 1980), 21-29; Osiek and Balch, Families, 77. 492 Duncan-Jones, Money and Government, 21 cf. payment in barley in PTeb 1, 224. 128

with wheat in Sicily (Cic. Verr. 2.3.172) and Thrace.493 Other provinces and peoples who paid in items with monetary value include the Friscii in the north who paid taxes with oxen leather (Tac. Ann. 4.72), a tribe in Pontus who paid their tribute with wax, and the Batavi who paid with military recruits.494 The loans measured in crops does not indicate definitively a tenant farmer situation. The amount of debt, though massive for many, is comparable to other contemporary loans of merchants.495

4.3.3 Conclusion: Steward as ES4+

The master, steward, and debtors can now be placed into socio-economic levels. The master has at the very least 6,750 denarii which he can lend, and the text implies he has lent further loans then the two examples given.496 The rich man’s expendable income places him close to elite status, perhaps just above ES3b/4a.497 He also has an οἰκονόμος which, if interpreted as a dispensator, places him close to if not within elite levels.498 The οἰκονόμος has some means, but the only economic markers for him are that he can read, write, and was likely well educated as an οἰκονόμος. He portrays an elite attitude though since he is probably a slave, he is not socially elite. He is probably around an ES4. The debtors are in huge debts, but we do not know if their income supersedes those debts. The elite regularly got into massive debts, but their social status and economic status largely remained elite due to the constant debt relief.499 The debtors would have enough income at one time to put up collateral for the loans. But since they needed a loan in the first place, we might put a ceiling of their surplus at 3,750 denarii and 3,600 denarii or around 10 years on days’ wages. This would

493 Syll3 932. Late second century. Cited in Duncan-Jones, Structure, 21. 494 For this, see Duncan-Jones, Structure, 189-91. 495 With the ES of the debtors in E. Reinmuth, “Der beschuldigte Verwalter (Vom ungetreuen Haushalter)” in Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, ed. R. Zimmerman (Munich: Gütersloh, 2007), 634-46 but does make a definitive conclusion: “It remains unclear if the partners of the man are merchants, farmers, or tenants,” (Ebenso bleibt offen, ob die Partner des Mannes Händler oder Bauern bzw. Pächter sind). 496 Nolland, Luke, 1:798: “We are to understand that there are quite a number of debtors, of whom the two described are exemplary.” 497 Since decurions required 100,000 sesterces and we have definite proof of only 27,000 sesterces, we can only say he behaves as one who is elite or nearing elite status. 498 Of course, a vilicus may also allude to a higher status than poor members of a house church, but the vilicus’ association with the familia rural instead of the familia urbana makes the vilicus less elite than the dispensator. 499 See W. Schmitz, “Loan. Rome” BNP 7:758-60; M. Crawford, “Debt. Greece and Rome,” BNP 4:140-44. 129

place our debtors around the ES4+ marker. We have summarized our findings in the chart below.

Price Range Economic Implications Behaviors Rich Man’s Loans 6,750+ days’ wages ES3b-4 Steward’s attitudes to labor, N/A ES4+ inability to dig Possessions Debt of 100 baths of oil 3,600 days’ wages Not ES5-7, Not ES1 Debt of 100 kors of what 3,150 days’ wages Not ES5-7, Not ES1 Debt reduction of 50 baths 450 days’ wages Not ES5-7 Debt reduction of 20 kors 630 days’ wages Not ES5-7 Conclusions Rich Man ES3b/4a; Steward ES4; Debtors ES4+

Table 6. Socio-Economic Markers in the Clever Steward.

4.4 Dives and Lazarus (16:19-31)

4.4.1 Socio-Economic Profiling: Behaviors

In this parable, Dives (τις πλούσιος) throws marvelous banquets every day (εὐφραινόμενος καθ’ ἡμέραν λαμπρῶς, 16:19). The verb εὐφραίνω is only used of the wealthy in Luke, probably because only they could afford to εὐφραίνειν. It can mean simply being happy or cheerful,500 rejoicing via some action like singing,501 or it can denote rejoicing by feasting at a banquet.502 Only here is such a celebration described as splendid (λαμπρῶς). Though normally used to describe bright clothing, Plutarch (Mor. 762C) also describes Anytus’ banquet as λαμπρῶς. In an inscription honoring Septimus Ourorodes, a decurion of Palmyra, he is called the splendid head of the symposium (λαμπρῶς συμποσίαρχον)

500 For example, Aristophanes, Lys., 165. “Not many can have a happy life (οὐ γὰρ οὐδέποτ’ εὐφρανθήσεται ἀνήρ) if his wife doesn’t want him to.” (Henderson, LCL). Locrus was happy (εὐφράνθη) when he saw Opus (Pindar, Ol. 9.60). Euripides, Med. 35: Medea is not happy to see children (παῖδας οὐδ’ ὁρῶς’ εὐφραίνεται). cf. Plutarch, Mor. 610F: perfume is pleasing to one’s sense of smell (εὐφραίνει τὴν ὄσφρησιν); of nature (Mor. 646C); of one’s friends (Dio Chrysostom, Disc. 3.109-109); disposition of children towards parents (Mor., 480A). Also present in Jewish literature, e.g., the men of Jabesh Gilead (1 Sam 11:9 LXX); Saul and Israelites (1 Sam 11:15 LXX). 501 e.g. shouting and singing (Isa 42:11); singing praises to God (Ps 9:2); following God’s precepts (Ps 18:9 LXX); being in God’s presence (Ps 20:7 LXX); of enemies gloating at David (Ps 29:1 LXX); doing evil (Prov 8:30). 502 See BDAG, “εὐφραίνω,” s.v. cf. Ody. 2.311; Lev 23:39 of the festival of Booths; synonymous use of “eating” φάγεσθε with εὐφρανθήσεσθε in Deut 12:7 and further instructions using εὐφραίνω in 12:12, 18; Judges 16:23 of a Philistine banquet in honor of Dagon; 2 Chron 30:25 of Hezekiah’s massive festival. 130

perhaps showing some linking between λαμπρῶς and banquets/symposia.503 Thus, we will explore the possible expenses for such banquets.

4.4.1.1 Splendid Feasts

As demonstrated in our analysis of the rich food, Luke does not look down upon feasting in and of itself. The key factor of feasting, and using money to throw these parties, is neglecting the poor either through a misuse of money or by ignoring the poor altogether. The prodigal son parable included the father’s party and the son’s complaint that he did not get a party for himself. The prodigal son’s father throws a party for his economically impoverished son but Dives probably hosts lavish banquets to improve his own social standing. If so, Dives is using his wealth according to the normal Greco-Roman expectations in which the rich network with the other rich through banquets. In this case, Dives would need to provide substantial food and drink for roughly the amount of people who could comfortable fit in a banquet room, probably 9 to 12 people.504 If Dives’ 5 brothers and their families attend his banquets, this number may be even higher.

A few staple items were usually present amongst an elite or nearing-elite banquet. A typical feast consisted of two to three courses including a main course (mensa prima), a dessert course (mensa secunda), and occasionally a starter (gustatio). The main meal included bread and wine with a variety of fruits and vegetables like figs, truffles, “lettuce… olives, beetroot, gherkins (cucurbitae), [and] onions.”505 As Dives is very wealthy, he likely provides a meat or seafood dish like oysters, snails, sausages, or the “high-class” options of the wild hare and fattened goose.506 Dives would provide high quality wine and honey to be mixed with the wine or enjoyed with the other food. The dessert course might consist of apples, pistachios, dates, and cakes. Using prices from the PE yields a rough upper limit of ~38 denarii per day. Dives probably would not include all these items in every banquet, but he surely includes one meat portion with ample wine and honey; the goose, an amphora of wine with honey alone cost

503 PHI 304887 = CIG 4485. Trans. by P. Harland: http://www.philipharland.com/greco-roman- associations/?p=10319. 504 Horace, Sat. 1.4.86. See Smith, Banquet, 25 for an average of 5-11. 505 Pliny the Younger, Ep. 1.15 who complained that Septicius Clarus did not attend Pliny’s party and thus should pay all of Pliny’s banqueting expenditures. 506 See Athenaeus 9.402e-403d of an outrageously lavish banquet. 131

17 days’ wages without counting the remaining fruits, nuts, and vegetables. We can place a lower limit of 25 denarii per day for his feast.

Banquet Item Prices (PEw) and Amounts Total Cost (PEw) Wild Hare 6 each 6 Fattened Goose 8 each 8 Falernian Wine 1.2 per sextarius (x 6) 7.2 per amphora Honey 1.6 per sextarius 1.6 Truffles 0.64 per libra (x 2) 1.28 Figs 0.16 each (x 2) 0.32 Lettuce 0.16 for 5 (x 4) 0.64 Beetroot 0.16 for 5 (x 4) 0.8 Gherkin 0.16 for 10 (x 3) 0.48 (“gourds”) Onions 0.48 for 20 0.48 Snails 0.16 for 20 (x 2) 0.32 Sausage 0.96 per pes (x 2) 1.92 Oysters 4 for 100 4 Apples 0.16 for 10 (x 2) 0.32 Pistachios 0.64 per sextarius (x 2) 1.28 Dates 0.16 for 8 (x 4) 0.64 Cakes Estimated 0.25 each (x 10) 2.5 TOTAL COST 37.78

Table 7. Possible Menu for Dives’ Feasts

These numbers are not meant to represent an exact cost of a banquet, but the numbers do demonstrate the amount of surplus wealth Dives may spend on banquet foodstuffs and drinks alone. Even if Dives provides the exact list above and spends roughly 5-6 denarii per person at his daily banqueting, his feasts fall into the very top of the 2 to 6 denarii per person range found in elite literature.507

507 2, 3, 5, 6 denarii in Martial, Epig. 2.57, 9.100, 12.26, 4.68 respectively. See Duncan-Jones, Economy, 138-41 for the merging of sportula (cash gifts at banquets) and the cost of meals. Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 194 uses Satyr. 45, 71 for 2 denarii per head but also notes Martial. 132

Additionally, these banquets would take place within the domestic spaces described earlier. Large, open sections of Dives’ house would be covered with frescos and mosaics. He would host his banquets in social rooms with triclinia whilst his slaves, clothed in expensive outfits, served food and drink to his guests. All these items would drive up the amount of money he spent keeping up his social status. Dives, then, is portrayed at ES3+.

On the other end of the spectrum, Lazarus’ behaviors quickly demonstrate that he is at the very bottom of society. He does not have enough money for food, medicine, or shelter. He lives below subsistence at the very bottom of the economy scale or an ES7.

4.4.2 Socio-Economic Profiling: Possessions

4.4.2.1 Dives’ Purple Clothing

Dives dresses in purple (πορφύρα) and some type of fine clothing (βύσσος, Lat. byssus).508 There is little evidence of byssus, and the surviving evidence is contradictory. We can only say that “in antiquity byssus was a fine textile fibre of linen, cotton or silk.”509 We cannot be sure Dives wears specifically linen clothes as some scholars suggest.510 The combination of byssus and purple in our passage may signify the material of the underclothes (linen, cotton, or silk χιτών/tunica) and the purple color of the outer cloak (pallium or ἱμάτιον) but this is not certain.511 Notably, the combination of purple and βύσσος only occurs in Jewish and Christian texts.512 When this combination occurs, it denotes greater wealth than purple or

508 Byssus may have originally meant clothes made of linen or flax, but it also meant cotton or silk: J.P. Wild, “Byssus,” OCD 256; C. Hünemörder, “Byssos” BNP 2:845; Cleland, et al. Dress, 27; See extensive bibliography and primary sources in F. Maeder, “Sea-Silk in Aquincum: First Production Proof in Antiquity,” in Purpureae Vestes II, ed. C. Alfaro, J.P. Wild, and B. Costa (València: Universitat de València, 2008), 109- 18. 509 F. Maeder, “Byssus and Sea Silk: A Linguistic Problem with Consequences,” in Treasures from the Sea: Sea Silk and Shellfish Purple Dye in Antiquity, ed. H. Enegren and F. Meo (Oxford: Oxbow, 2017), 15. This is also the conclusion of Wolter, Lukasevangelium, 558. 510 Edwards, Luke, 466; Nolland, Luke, 2:827; Klein, Lukasevangelium, 552, “Leinwand”; Bovon, Luke, 2:478; R. Bredenhof, Failure and Prospect (LNTS 603; London: T&T Clark, 2019), 50. 511 Suggested in Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1161. 512 Prov 31:22; Esther 8:15; Joseph and Aseneth 5:5; Test. of Abraham 4:2; Josephus, Ant. 8.93; 1QapGen 20:31; Rev 18:12-16. Cited in Wolter, Lukasevangelium, 558. 133

byssus individually. In Prov 31:22, the virtuous wife, who is very obviously a wealthy woman, wears byssos and purple.513

Purple clothing has a wide range of cost and social significance. Along with signifying wealth, purple was considered apotropaic and warded off the evil eye from envious onlookers.514 Purple neither signified elite status in and of itself nor was it limited to the emperor’s wardrobe, but it did signify wealth and social importance.515 Purple belts on belted tunics, for example, have been found in Egypt where “there would have been no senators or knights present.”516 The elite wanted some form of social control over elite dress, so various laws were written to limit shades of purple to the elite and emperor at different times.517 “Purple” already had a color range from black to deep-red to amethyst to violet, but the color range became limited for non-elites after these laws were passed.518

As 4.2.2.2 argued, clothes’ prices vary depending on place of origin, style, materials, and dyes. A price range of 100-300 denarii was suggested for the son’s στολὴ as banquet attire. This can be a starting point for Dives’ clothing, but the prices should be higher here as purple clothing is mentioned explicitly. Pliny writes that purple dyes could cost between 100 and 1,000 denarii per Roman pound, and the PE ranges between 480 and 6,000 days’ wages.519 Using Pliny’s price as more reflective of the first-century and accounting for other purple dyes that were probably cheaper than 100 denarii per pound allows us to add a range of 50-

513 cf. 31:10, γυναῖκα ἀνδρείαν. She can plant vineyards from her own income (31:16), sells merchandise at such a profit that she has enough oil to last the night (31:18, buys her food (βίος) from foreign lands (31:14). 514 Olsen, Masculinity, 45. 515 Cf. Seneca, Ep. 16.8 of purple wearing landowners (locupletes). Contra Green, Luke, 605; Bovon, Luke, 2:478-79. Certain shades of purple were limited to the emperor, but not purple itself. See J. Sebesta, “Tunica Ralla, Tunica Spissa: The Colors and Textiles of Roman Costume” in The World of Roman Costume, eds. J. Sebesta and L. Bonfante (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2001), 65-100. Contra Bredenhof, Prospect, 50. 516 A. Croom, Roman Clothing and Fashion (Stroud: Amberley, 2012), 33. From the Mons Claudianus finds, ca.100-150. 517 Edmondson, “Dress”, 32-33. 518 Pliny, Nat. 9.133-38; satirical in Martial, Epig. 5.8 (non-elite), 23 (non-equestrian), 35, 8.48, 10.76. Cf. M. Bradley, Colour and Meaning in Ancient Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 189- 208 and M. Reinhold, History of Purple as a Status Symbol in Antiquity (Brussels: Latomus, 1970). 519 Pliny, Nat. 9.137. 12,000 (purple wool) to 150,000 denarii (purple silk) per pound in PE. 134

200 denarii to account for the purple dye in Dives’ clothing. Thus, the price range of 150- 500 denarii for purple clothing will act as a foundation for further observations.520

Because we are not sure what type of garment or material Dives wears, further narrowing down a price range is tricky. For example, a purple silk tunic with colored bands cost 5,400 days’ wages in the PE but in the first century, Martial (Epig. 10.87) probably satirically says the Tyrian purple wool cloak (lacernas) cost 4,000 days’ wages.521 A later version of the tunica with purple stripes (dalmatica) is priced at 1,760 days’ wages for good quality purple or 180 days’ wages for the tunic with lower quality purple (archil).522 Increasing the maximum end of our range by 1,000 would account for a higher quality purple tunic and Martial’s probable satire. If Dives wears a lower-quality tunic/chiton, he may have paid between 180-1,760 days’ wages with the lower end representing lower-quality dyes and material. Our price range does not yet include estimations of byssos, the expensive garment discussed above, which would further drive up the price. Bumping up our price range estimate by a noticeable amount, here 33%, produces a final range of 239 to 2,340 days’ wages.

4.4.2.2 Dives’ Gate

Luke places Lazarus at Dives’ πυλών. Πυλών usually denotes a large gate or entrance, particularly to a city.523 In GLk, πυλών describes Simon’s house (Acts 10:17), perhaps indicating the house’s entrance rather than a proper gate. In Acts 12:13, Mary’s πυλών has a door like Simon’s house, and the πυλών itself can be opened (οὐκ ἤνοιξεν τὸν πυλῶνα). Josephus also describes the gates of the temple which have doors (J.W. 5.201). These seem to indicate an entrance through an exterior wall which separates a building or city from something else. Lucian (Hippias, 5) uses to πυλών describe the entrance to a bath which must be reached through a staircase. Lucian’s use indicates the entrance way of an interior room which is still a part of the building’s structure rather than entering through an exterior border of a city or house.

520 Contra Wi, Salvation, 57 who calculates 20-50 denarii for a decent cloak, stemming from D. Sperber, ‘Costs of Living in Roman Palestine,’ JESHO 8 (1965): 248-71 who uses late evidence (b. Shabbat 128A, j. Bava Metzia 4.3). 521 135,000 denarii = 5,400 PEw. 522 44,000 denarii = 1,760; 180 denarii = 4,500. 523 14:13 of Lystra; Tacitus, Frag. L1, Defense 18.3; Diogenes, Lives, 4.6.39, Dio Chrysostom, Disc. 11.123, Apollodorus, Lib. 2.12, 3.7, Josephus, J.W. 5.569, 5.112, Polybius, Hist. 2.9.4. 135

Some scholars see a majestic or magnificent entrance to a mansion here.524 Such a meaning is possible as in P. Rylands 233 where a contractor tells his master that he has identified those living in front of his gate (πρὸ τοῦ πυλῶνός).525 In the case of this papyrus, we are to imagine a large entrance to an even larger house here. We have then two interpretive options which may overlap. First, πυλών may denote an entrance to the courtyard of a large villa or domus.526 If this meaning is intended, we should also interpret Mary and Simon’s gates denoting similar wealth. Thus, Luke probably is not critiquing Dives for having a gate even as a signifier of wealth. Second, πυλών may denote the entrance to Dives’ home, including a door but possibly also a porch or stairs. If this meaning is intended, Dives’ gate may also be a spatial marker denoting the proximity between him and Lazarus.527 Because the parable notes how wealthy Dives is and will explicitly note the great chasm separating Dives and Lazarus in Hades, we might see both connotations present. We will explore this further in chapter 5.

In pricing out socio-economic markers, we are limited by πυλών which might mean entrance to an insula or domus. Because of Lazarus’ spatial proximity to the entrance and Dives’ daily banqueting, we should probably understand an elite or sub-elite urban setting.528 This does not mean Dives’ home was a domus, estate, or insula. In Pompeii, the top 5% of elite domestic spaces (including domūs and insulae) contain peristyles, colonnades, and large paintings which Dives would have had for the setting of his feasts.529 Several sub-elite domestic spaces (top 15%) have a combination of two or three of these furnishings. Using the distribution of domestic space in Pompeii for comparison, Dives’ domestic space may have been between 500 and 3000m2.530 The lower end reflects a sub-elite or local elite dwelling unit in the previously described Ephesian slope house (Terrace House I), and the

524 Marshall, Luke, 635; Bock, Luke, 2:1366; Metzger, Consumption, 137; Bovon, Luke, 2:480. This interpretation seems to stem from J. Jeremias, “πύλη” TDNT 6:921 and Plummer, Luke, 391. No comment on economic implications of πυλών in Klein, Wiefel, or Wolter. 525 The mention of porticos and two different dining halls confirm a large residence. 526 For example, Bock, Luke, 2:1366; Green, Luke, 606. 527 Metzger, Consumption, 137. 528 Contra Oakman, Peasant, 144: “large rural estate.” 529 M. Flohr, “Quantifying Pompeii: Population, Inequality, and the Urban Economy” in The Economy of Pompeii, eds. M. Flohr and A. Wilson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 53-84. 530 A. Wallace-Hadrill, Houses and Society in Pompeii and Herculaneum (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 79; 15% = 34.8 of 232 total samples, but 33 real samples used. Cf. Oakes, Romans. 136

upper end reflects the enormous estate (praedium) of Julia Felix.531 Pricing is tricky; we might estimate that a maximum of 250,000 denarii, a sum paid not uncommonly by the elite.532 We can probably deduce a minimum based on annual rental prices of 2,500 denarii for elites in Rome.533 Dives’ home then may have been worth between 2,500 and 250,000 denarii.

4.4.3 Conclusion: Dives as ES3+, Lazarus as ES7

Dives is at least ES3+, placing him at the very top of society, with Lazarus at the very bottom of society at ES7. It should be noted that Dives is probably a caricature of a rich person. Such opulence by the rich is not rooted in fantasy, but the extreme nature of Dives’ actions likely gives good rhetorical punch to the critiques of the wealthy.534

This section contributed material calculations to the interpretation of this parable by calculating the cost of feasts, cloaks, and real estate. Against most commentators, including Green, Bovon, and Fitzmyer, purple clothing did not signify royalty or elite status. Dives’ gate may signify his wealth in combination with the other socio-economic markers, but it did not signify his damnation. Because Luke elsewhere includes positive characters associated with purple, feasting, and gates, we argued that Dives’ amount of wealth is not the key the issue. Rather, his use of wealth or lack of use is the key issue.

Price Range Economic Implications Behaviors Daily Feasting 25-36 days’ wages ES3+ Inability to buy food and N/A ES7 medicine Possessions Purple clothing 239-2,340 days’ wages Not ES5-7, Not ES1 Elite/Sub-elite Housing 2,500+ days’ wages Not ES5-7, Not ES1

Table 8. Socio-Economic Markers in Dives and Lazarus.

531 Like Julia, Dives may have rented out rooms to fund his lifestyle. CIL 4.1136 for Julia’s rental adverts for rooms within her estate. Cf. C. Osiek, “What Kinds of Meals Did Julia Felix Have? A Case Study of the Archaeology of the Banquet” in Meals in the Early Christian World, eds. D. Smith and H. Taussig (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 37-56. 532 E.g., 14.8 million sesterces (Pliny, Nat., 36.103); 3.5 million sesterces (Cic. Fam. 5.6.2). 533 Hypothetical cost in Alfenus, Dig., 19.2.7-8, 30; Cic. Cael. 17. 534 With L. Schottroff, The Parables of Jesus, trans. L. Maloney (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006), 167. 137

4.5 Pharisee and Tax Collector (18:9-14)

4.5.1 Socio-Economic Profiling: Behaviors

We will summarize what we can glean from the Pharisee’s behaviors here before moving to the tax collector. The Pharisee is not explicitly called rich or poor. His profession is not mentioned, but some ideas of his economic status can be gathered from his prayer. He fasts twice a week and tithes all his possessions which suggests he voluntarily denies himself food and material wealth. In the parable, the Pharisee prays at the temple during the day; he must leave his trade and travel to the temple itself. Since the Pharisee is at least voluntarily able to go without material wealth and food and forego labor during the day, he may fall within the ES level that has a small surplus (ES5). His fasting, absence from labor, and tithing do not seem to reflect someone below subsistence (ES6). There is more evidence of ES levels of tax collectors to which we now turn.

4.5.1.1 Collecting Taxes

Whilst there is certainly value in exploring taxation during the historical Jesus’ lifetime, this project explores how audience members would have experienced tax collection in their cities and questions the type of evidence we should use to assess their experience. Thus, our discussion of tax collectors will detail the ways in which we will differ from other scholars. First, NT scholarship often frames discussions of tax collectors during Jesus’ lifetime (ca. 1- 30CE) which is too early for our purposes.535 Hindering us from leaping to the time of Luke’s audience from 30CE are the major shifts in taxation that occurred under Nero (ca. 58CE) which provided more imperial oversight to tax collection (Tacitus, Ann. 12.50-51). As discussed below, these changes would affect how tax collectors operated in and among major cities, and thus how audience members would conceive of and respond to the character of the tax collector. Second, much of NT research relies on second to fourth century Jewish sources to describe how others saw the collectors.536 This late evidence is often applied to the

535 Plummer, Luke, 91; Jeremias, Jerusalem, 311; Edwards, Luke, 112; Bock, Luke, 1:311. 536 E.g., Marshall, Luke, 142; J. Donahue, “Tax Collectors and Sinners: An Attempt at Identification” CBQ 33 (1971), 45; O. Michel, “τελώνης” TDNT 8:88-105. Commentators (e.g., Nolland, Wolter, Green, Bovon) reference Michel and Donahue as their main secondary sources. Both (esp. Michel) are overly reliant on late Jewish material and include outdated conclusions mentioned above. Cf. F. Udoh, To Caesar What is Caesar’s (Providence: Brown University Press, 2005), 239-41. 138

possible conflicts between Judean cultic groups in the first-century, particularly regarding the position of Gentiles in Jewish communities.537 As argued previously, Luke’s audience would have little knowledge of rabbinic debates concerning tax collectors. They knew of the local tax collectors in their cities. Third, discussion of tax collectors’ roles in the larger economic systems usually focuses on agrarian economics rather than the post-70CE urban life setting of Luke’s audience.538 Finally, many scholars can be overly reliant on Josephus who paid no taxes on his gifted land and carries the attitude of a social elite.539 Post-Neronian, non-elite sources that shed light on urban taxation in the Greek East will help correct these issues.

The key evidence for first-century tax collection stems from a massive 154-line Greek inscription from Ephesus referred to as the Monumentum Epheseum, lex portorii Asiae, or Νόμος τέλους Ἀσίας.540 The first-century inscription details changes in the tax law from the second-century BCE to 62CE including custom tax rates, regulations for what can be taxed, and most important for our purposes, regulations for the behaviors of the τελῶναι. The key points for inscription are (1) the titles τελώνης and δημοσιώνης which have been interpreted as “toll collectors” and “tax farmers” respectively are used interchangeably in the inscription and should be seen roughly equivalent;541 (2) the τελώνης collect more than tolls and thus are not strictly “toll collectors”; (3) the τελῶναι were not equestrians as in the late Republic but largely slaves and freedmen overseen by a number of higher ranked individuals including local elites. The political influence the tax collector “companies” (see below) enjoyed waned, but they were still connected to the local elites. On this point, the inscription (ll. 16-17) instructs a member of the local elite (ἐπίτροπος = here, procurator) to collect taxes if a τελώνης could not be found. As the latter point focuses on socio-economic statuses, we will expand on this point below.

537 Radl, Evangelium, 173 supposes the mention of tax collectors and soldiers coming for baptism in 3:1-20 might be anti-Pharisaic. Klein, Lukasevangelium, 224 sees conflict between tax collectors and Pharisees as impossible to reconcile (“Der Gegensatz zu den Pharisäern galt als unüberwindbar…”). 538 Jeremias, Jerusalem, 124-26; Oakman, Questions, 37-91; Moxnes, Economy, 39-40; Hays, Wealth, 57. 539 Jeremias, Jerusalem; Donahue, “Tax Collectors.” No taxes paid in Josephus, Life, 429. 540 SEG 39:1180 = PHI247711. Critical edition and translation of Greek with possible Latin behind the Greek in M. Cottier, et al, eds, The Custom Law of Asia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 26-85. Cf. J. Ogereau, “Customs Law of the Roman Province of Asia (lex Portorii Asiae)” NewDocs 10 (2012), 95-109. 541 Contra Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:470; Green, Luke, 179. 139

A τελώνης was partially responsible for examining and collecting the appropriate taxation on imports, exports, public sales, and other so-called “indirect” taxes independent of a census.542 Tax collectors belonged to a “company” (κοινωνία, socii, societas publicanorum) that contracted with the Roman censores to gather various tax revenue. Every five years, contracts for these companies were sold at public auctions to the highest bidding company. As the Principate wore on, individual tax collectors began replacing these companies, but tax companies outnumbered individual contractors during our period.543 Companies might include at least one manager (vilicus, οἰκονόμος) who was the head of the company but below the local elite, agents of the manager or local elite (actores, πραγματευταὶ, χειρισταῖς), accountants (dispensatores), tax collectors, officials who search parties or investigate items (ἐρευνῆται, scrutatores), secretaries, and any enslaved members acting as agents of these members.544 Several of these members, including the managers, would be enslaved.

Company members doing the leg work of collecting taxes were generally slaves or lower rank freedmen. Enslaved tax collectors might be owned by the company (familia publicanorum), the empire (servi publicani), or other tax collectors in the company.545 For example, M. Aurelus Mindios Matidianus Pollio, an Asiarch and promagister, owned slaves called Eutyches and Kalokairos who collected taxes as the company agents (πραγματευταὶ).546 We should note that local hierarchy in different companies might differ. In some cases, tax collectors might rank below the manager (vilicus, οἰκονόμος), but in others they might be considered equivalent to the manager. Because of their connection to an Asiarch and promagister and ability to finance a new tax booth, Eutyches and Kalokairos probably ranked higher in the company than some τελῶναι. As such, the title τελώνης can refer to different socio-

542 Though this was not universal. See P. Brunt, “Publicans in the Principate,” in Roman Imperial Themes, ed. P. Brunt (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990), 354-432. 543 See J.-J. Aubert, Business Managers in Ancient Rome (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 325-330. 544 For these titles in the context of tax collection, see P.CtYBR 340 (χειριστής), CIL 3.555 (οἰκονόμος, vilicus), CIL 2.1085 (dispensator), Josephus, J.W. 1.599 (ἐρευνητής), Plutarch, Mor. 831A (πραγματευτὴς), CIL 3.5122 (scrutator). See O. van Nijf, “The Social World of Roman Tax Farmers” in The Customs Law of Asia, eds. M. Cottier, et al (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 288-89 for these and other positions. 545 See a collection of evidence and argument for enslaved tax collectors in S. Günther, “Sklaven im römischen Zollwesen” in Studien zum römischen Zollwesen, ed. P. Kritzinger, et al (Wellem Verlag: Duisburg, 2015), 229-241. 546 OGIS 525 = PHI258030. The slaves constructed a new customs office (τελώνιον) and gilded a statue of Aphrodite. 140

economic ranks of tax collectors and should not be taken as a definitive pronouncement of massive amounts of power or wealth in and of itself.547

Since the social dynamics of τελῶναι are well documented in NT scholarship, we limit ourselves to a few comments.548 First, the elite and those approaching elite status disliked τελῶναι for being beneath them and working with their hands. For the elite, “the idea that members of the lower classes, even if they were special officials…, were rummaging through one’s possessions was clearly too much.549” Second century CE sophist and grammarian Julius Pollux lists in his Onomasticon (9.30f) a barrage of names to call a τελώνης including bandit (λῃστεύων), storm of violence (χειμῶνος Βιαιότεπς), and ones eager to bring others down (καραδύων τοὺς καταχθέντας). Positive words for a τελώνης were just (δίκαιος), hospitable (εὔζενος), and “knowing one’s place” (εἰδὼς αἰδεῖσθαι).”550 However, we should not conclude that all elites felt this way. As we saw above, the local elite or Roman equestrians were occasionally high-ranking members of these companies. This connection with the elite served to provide some imperial control over the tax collectors but also put the tax collectors in direct contact with the local elites. The local elites probably knew some of the tax collectors personally and may have despised the local tax collectors who did not “know their place,” just as they despised other slaves, artisans, or persons who did not respect local hierarchies. Others, however, they may not have despised to this same extent. Second, many tax collectors were slaves as we have pointed out. This is implicit in some names Eutyches and Kalokairos or explicit in some inscriptions like a certain Felix the vicarius of the an enslaved vilicus named Primo.551 As slaves, they would be despised as tools regardless of their socio-economic status. Third, tax collectors were not always universally despised. Some were granted honors or titles by the polis. For example, a second century CE publicanus named Julius Capito was given the same honor as a decurion.552 Vespasian’s father was awarded the title καλῶς

547 See Aubert, Managers, 341 and Brant, “Publicans” 365: “publicanus [in Cicero] seems often to mean simply a person engaged in the public contracts in any capacity.” Against the older view that sees τελώνης as strictly portitores (e.g. Plummer, Luke, 91), see the classic study of F. Herrenbrück, Jesus und die Zöllner (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990) and recently Aubert, Managers, 337-40; van Nijf, “Tax,” 285-86; Günther, “Zollwesen,” 235-36. 548 Herrenbrück, Zöllner; Udoh, Caesar; Oakman, Peasant, 280-97; P. Seo, Luke’s Jesus in the Roman Empire and the Emperor in the Gospel of Luke (Eugene: Pickwick, 2015). 549 van Nijf, “Tax”, 281-82 who cites and translates (slightly differently) the following passage. 550 Ibid., 284. 551 CIL 3.447 = PHI252612 (Undated; Miletus). See the appendix in van Nijf “Tax,” 306-311 for comments on this and the following Asian inscriptions of tax collectors. 552 item decurionalib(us) ornamentis honorato. ILS 1465 = PHI166763. 141

τελωνήσαντι (“Excellent Tax Collecting”, Suet., Vesp. 1.2). Thus, some tax collectors were respected by the local elites, perhaps through gritted teeth.

Because different socio-economic statuses would have different reasons to despise tax collectors, we should be careful to avoid generalities. To be sure, the generalizations offered by previous scholars are still relatively true. The local elites might despise tax collectors because they are beneath them in rank, slaves, work with their hands, or create trouble for them in the eyes of the senate. The non-elite were exploited by tax collectors and despised them for personal affronts. We should, however, include a multifaceted view. Even though tax collectors were not themselves elite, tax collectors were likely to be connected to the local elites if only through the company. They might be considered a good citizen of a port city and might be respected by the local community for being law-abiding or may gain respect for looking the other way on some imports.

We should note that the tax collector shares several socio-economic similarities with the clever steward. Both characters could increase their personal wealth through exploitation. They might be slaves and functioned as a tool of larger economic mechanisms. They had access to the wealth of others through financial accounting. They could both use their wealth as tools for good or for ill. Though most commentators pair the clever steward with Dives, Schleiermacher notes the parable of the clever steward may defend the presence of tax collectors in the early Christ-groups.553 Though we do not argue about Luke’s intention here, Schleiermacher’s conclusion takes seriously the similar socio-economic statuses in each parable. The contrast of these characters provides some insight into GLk’s variegated picture of wealth: one character uses wealth unjustly for personal gain and finds a home whilst another is assumed to have done so as background to the story and gains justification.

4.5.1.2 Conclusion

A tax collector (τελώνης) in our port cities of Corinth, Ephesus, and Thessaloniki was probably moderately wealthy from the customs taxes levied on all imports and exports in addition to other taxes collected. He would be supervised by a manager or several managers

553 F. Schleiermacher, A Critical Essay on the Gospel of St. Luke, trans. (London: John Taylor, 1825), 213. The emphasis eventually became “the Pharisees” as in Jeremias, Parables, 139. 142

who in turn would be supervised by the local elite. He would still collect taxes excessively, but the increased regulation would most likely keep him from becoming elite status.554 Using Lukan characters to describe this tax collector’s socio-economic position, Levi (τελώνης) might be supervised by Zacchaeus (ἀρχιτελώνης) who is supervised by local elites.555 The tax collector of our parable is closer to Levi than Zacchaeus. Even though he is lower rank, Levi in 5:29 throws a great banquet (δοχὴν μεγάλην) for a great number of attendees (ὄχλος πολὺς τελωνῶν καὶ ἄλλων). Our tax collector and Levi are likely ES4+. To distinguish his surplus from the Macedonian woman, who is certainly wealthier than a mid-level tax collector, we will designate this tax collector as ES4b.

4.5.2 Socio-Economic Profiling: Possessions

The parable of the Pharisee and tax collector does not mention the possessions of either character because the parable focuses on one’s behavior before others and God. We note that the Pharisee mentions his lack of possessions, but this is voluntary as noted in the behavior section above.

4.5.3 Conclusion: Tax Collector as ES4b, Pharisee as ES5

Price Range Economic Implications Behaviors Voluntarily going without food N/A ES5 and labor Tax Collection N/A Not ES5-7, Not ES1-3 Table 9. Socio-Economic Markers in Pharisee and Tax Collector

From our study above, the tax collector is likely ES4b and the Pharisee is probably ES5. This ES5 Pharisee runs contrary to Oakman, Saldarini, and Horsley who see the Pharisees as a type of retainer class (e.g., part of the upper classes).556 Against Jeremias, the ES5 Pharisee

554 Contra Seo, Empire, 86-87 who states that tax collectors who operated under a “chief tax collector had less opportunity to farm taxes. Seo references S. Harrison, “The Case of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector: Justification and Social Location in Luke’s Gospel,” CurTM 32 (2005): 103 who cites no sources for this claim. 555 Note Luke invents the term ἀρχιτελώνης, so Zacchaeus’ actual role in the tax company aside from a superior is unknown. 556 Oakman, Peasants, 252; A. Saldarini, Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees in Palestinian Society (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 38; R. Horsley, Jesus and the Politics of Roman Palestine (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2014), 131-32. Class terminology stems from Lenksi, Power. 143

does not map onto ‘the new ruling class.’557 Rather, the tax collector has some surplus wealth with others of the ‘middling’ ES. In terms of socio-economic status, he is closer to the Samaritan than the tax collector. The findings are summarized in the table below.

Because the parable’s thrust focuses on justification and righteousness, we should relate our findings to the parable’s key points. This parable is aimed at those persuaded that they were righteous while despising others (πρός τινας τοὺς πεποιθότας ἐφ’ ἑαυτοῖς ὅτι εἰσὶν δίκαιοι καὶ ἐξουθενοῦντας τοὺς λοιποὺς, 18:9), and Luke paints the Pharisee as one who trusts in his own righteousness and despises another. Jesus’ ethical instruction to be humble is clearly seen in the tax collector’s example, but the framing of the parable is directed to those who despise others and trust in their own righteousness which will guide our exegesis.

A socio-economic reading can fit within this framework. The Pharisee sought to use his material wealth in a righteous way, but God does not justify him.558 Instead, the tax collector was justified despite his ill-gotten wealth. The tax collector prays to remove an impending divine judgment against him and is granted his request. He is neither confident in his own righteous acts (18:9) nor confident in his use of wealth like the Pharisee. The tax collector calls himself a sinner whilst the Pharisee is thankful that his use of wealth is righteous in comparison to others.

One socio-economic reading of the parable seems to be that one’s use of wealth or method of garnering wealth cannot save or damn you. The righteous use of wealth (e.g., tithing) is not enough to justify the Pharisee, and the sinful method of garnering wealth is not enough to condemn the tax collector. The tax collector’s wealthy status does not condemn him; he becomes an exemplary character for his cultic practices and attitudes. The tax collector demonstrates one’s wealth does not necessarily highlight one’s negative character. The socio- economic reading of the parable, then, can be summarized: If one is convinced that they are righteous before God but despises those who do not use wealth righteously or those who gain

557 Jeremias, Jerusalem, 266. Pharisees were on the local council (Acts 5:34), and Josephus, an elite, is arguably a Pharisee. 558 By ‘in a righteous way,’ we mean that the Pharisee performs appropriate cultic actions to either curry divine favor (e.g., blessings) or abate divine judgment (e.g., propitiates a deity). E.g., fasting could be a sign of supplication (Neh 1:4; Dan 9:3) or penance (1 Kings 21:17; Ezra 10:6). 144

illicit wealth, they will not be justified even if they use wealth righteously. It does not show a ruling class member despising a poorer member of the cult; rather, it portrays the poorer member despising the wealthier member whose wealth is ill-gotten.

Such an ethic for this parable might sound strange initially. But, as argued in chapter five, it is conceivable that some members in the Christ-group might despise a tax collector and his ill-gotten wealth within the community (perhaps like Zacchaeus or Levi) or a slave whose body is used to garner money.559 Tax collectors as positive examples may push against a proclivity to despise them within the early Christ-groups. After all, Luke’s tax collectors are baptized (3:12), hosts of the cultic meals (5:29), justify God (7:29), seek Jesus (15:1), pray at temples (18:10), and ask for expiation (18:13). Other likely scenarios might include Christ-group members despising sex workers in the group for earning money “unjustly” or domestic slaves who do not have a choice about how their body is used. 560 The wealthier members whose wealth is ill-gotten (e.g., exploitation of laborers) can also be justified if they approach God as the tax collector does. These members are not to be despised within the Christ-group should they have the attitude of the tax collector.

4.6 Summary of Socio-Economic Markers for Luke’s Expected Audience

The results of this study are compiled in the table below. Somewhat surprising is that most of the exemplary characters in these parables are above ES5. There are exemplary characters who are very wealthy (prodigal son’s father), somewhat wealthy (clever steward, tax collector), and ‘middling’ (good Samaritan). No impoverished person serves as an exemplary character. As discussed previously, Luke’s audience would comprise mostly ES5 or below; that is, most audience members would have at most a moderate surplus.

559 R. Bauckham Jesus and the Eyewitnesses (2nd ed; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 55 suggests Luke could only know these vivid details from Zacchaeus himself. If Bauckham is right, this parable and indeed Zacchaeus’ story might act as an apologetic for either Zacchaeus or other tax collectors within the Christ community. 560 Perhaps why πορνῶν is mentioned only once in GLk (15:30) within the context of wasting money paying for their services. 145

Economy Scale Main Characters Exemplary? ES3+ (3%) Prodigal Son’s Father Yes Dives No ES4-5 (42%) Clever Steward (4b) Yes Tax Collector (4b) Yes Pharisee (5) No Good Samaritan (5) Yes ES7 (25%) Lazarus No561

Table 10. Summary of Economic Findings for Main Characters.

These findings correct an overly negative picture of the wealthy in Luke’s gospel. While the wealthy can serve as negative examples, scholars should not rush to judge every facet of the wealthy characters’ existence. In other words, one’s wealthy or destitute economic status does not determine if they are exemplary.

According to our findings, Luke’s characters are not distributed along the same percentages as society, though we should not expect this since our sample is limited. Still, the middling characters are represented well in these parables. The wealthy are overrepresented and the impoverished are under-represented.

4.7 Summary and Conclusion

This chapter put into practice the method of determining behaviors and possessions as markers of socio-economic status by analyzing five parables in GLk. In the parable of the Good Samaritan, the Good Samaritan’s stop at an inn, possession of a donkey, and his need to leave quickly demonstrated an ES5 status. Contra Oakman and Jeremias, the Samaritan’s 2 denarii payment was not a generous overpayment but an underpayment reflective of his ES5 status. In the parable of the prodigal son, the son’s inheritance demonstrated a high ES at the beginning of the parable. The father’s gifts of the best στολή and ring depict an ES4+ status and prepare the son for a banquet in his honor. Contra Jeremias, Rengstorf, and Forbes, sandals are not socio-economic status markers and slaves did not always go barefoot.

561 Despite Lazarus’ afterlife in Abraham’s bosom, he is not an example to be imitated. See, cf. Hays, Wealth, 157: “the earthly fate of the poor lies in many ways in the hands of the rich, just as the eternal fate of the rich depends partially upon their treatment of the poor.” 146

The στολὴ likely denotes banquet attire rather than priestly garb argued by Marshall and Fitzmyer or royal garb argued by Rengstroff. In the parable of the clever steward, the steward’s behavior depicted elite attitudes and the responsibilities of a dispensator rather than a vilicus put forward by Fitzmyer, Kim, and Hays. Recalculating 100 baths and 100 kors shed light the debtors’ loans and collateral needed for those loans and suggested that they are wealthy merchants rather than tenant farmers against Bailey and Oakman. In the parable of Dives and Lazarus, the cost of Dives’ daily banquets and purple clothing, both signals of wealth, were calculated. GLk praised those who have purple items and gates elsewhere; thus, use of wealth was the key issue here contra Metzger. Finally, in the parable of the tax collector and the Pharisee, the Pharisee’s ability to forego labor and food suggested an ES5 status whilst the tax collector’s work suggested a larger surplus of ES4. The reasons why people may despise tax collectors were nuanced. Contra Marshall, Nolland, and Wolter, rabbinic attitudes towards tax collectors had little impact on Luke’s audience; contra Jeremias, Oakman, and Hays, urban tax collection is more applicable to Christ-groups than agrarian tax collection. Focusing on the tax collector’s ill-gotten wealth in contrast to the righteous use of wealth by the Pharisee added a socio-economic dimension to the parable which had not been explored.

In sum, Luke portrayed a mixed picture of economic status which includes positive wealthy and middling characters. We found a more complicated picture of wealth, use of wealth, and economic status in GLk. The following chapter will explore how the constructed audience members might understand these socio-economic markers and ethical thrusts in their own lives.

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Chapter 5: Reading Luke’s Parables Through the Socio- Economic Profiles of Characters and Audience Members

In the previous two chapters, we sought to develop fresh ways of looking at Luke’s audience members and Luke’s parables. In this chapter, we will read the above parables through the lens of our profiled members within a Christ-group setting. In doing so, we will read our findings from chapter 4 through the characters developed in chapter 3. Because we will be adding to our readings from chapter 4, this chapter will contribute additional readings of the parables which in turn contributes to overall findings of the project.

The table below condenses the findings from the socio-economic markers in chapter 4 with the profiling of Luke’s audience members from chapter 3. It shows the socio-economic status of each character in relation to each audience member.

ES (2010) Parable Characters Exemplary? Audience Members ES3+ Dives No - Prodigal Son’s Father Yes - ES4-5 - Prominent Woman (4) Clever Steward (4b) Yes - Tax collector (4b) Yes - Pharisee (5) No Ephesian Artisan (5) Good Samaritan (5) Yes - ES6 - Domestic Slave ES7 Lazarus No -

Table 11. Summary of Economic Status of Audience Members and Narrative Members.

5.1 The Good Samaritan (10:25-37)

Judging his socio-economic status of ES5, the Samaritan has more money than some of and perhaps most of Luke’s audience. He has some surplus wealth but is not financially or socially elite. His belongings total nearly three months’ wages at the very least or, if he has a good breed of donkey or mule, over a year’s wages. Other belongings would push this number higher: the quality of the Samaritan’s clothes, the type of sandals the Samaritan owns, the

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various accessories for his animal. He has enough money to spend on those he wishes or on material possessions that may increase his social standing.

We turn to read these calculations through the lives of Luke’s audience members. Because the parable answers a question about one’s neighbor, the socio-economic statuses will highlight different aspects of how each audience member might answer the same question. As such, this will shed further light on Luke’s wealth ethics.

5.1.1 Wealthy Macedonian Woman

The wealthy woman’s ES4 status means she would be expected to perform benefaction and patronage to those in lower economic statuses and to the city itself. Using money to gain status and demonstrate allegiance to one’s city would be a key part of life for her. How might neighbor care factor into this parable?

Luke’s use of πλησίον may challenge her in different ways than the artisan and slave. The term πλησίον rarely occurs as a substantive as it does in this passage. When it does appear outside the LXX, πλησίον normally refers to someone or something ‘near’ something else.562 Γείτων is the term for someone who lives in the immediate vicinity of someone else within a neighborhood (γειτοσύνη), ward (γειτονία), or in a geographic description of a bordering πόλις or χώρα.563 Luke uses πλησίον only in this pericope but uses γείτων in 14:12, 15:6, and 15:9 to mean residential neighbors or those living within a ‘neighborhood.’ In 14:12, Jesus tells the host not to invite wealthy neighbors (γείτονας πλουσίους) expecting to receive

562 Adjectival uses are common and have the sense of spatially near something. It is normally a geographic/spatial description. E.g., Appian, R.H. 1.2: two children were thrown into a nearby stream (εἰς τὸν πλησίον ποταμὸν). Plutarch, Mor. 242b: a Spartan woman speaks to a woman next to her (πρὸς τὰς πλησίον εἶπεν). Xenophon, Eph., 5.3: Habrocomes was near the harbor (πλησίον τοῦ λιμένος), a girl fell off the ‘neighboring rocks’ (τῶν πλησίον πετρῶν, Plato, Phaedrus, 4D); Philopoemen was ‘near’ to Nabis (Plutarch, Phil. 12), et al. For adjectival use in inscriptions, see PHI 256882 = SEG 32:1097 (39/38BCE) for instructions on games within one mile of Rome (πόλει Ῥώμῃ πλησίον τε πόλεως Ῥώμης μειλίου ἑνὸς). PHI2430 = IG II2 212 (3rd/4th century BCE) instructs the secretary of the country to place this stele near the steles of Satyros and Leukon (λιθίνηι καὶ στῆσαι πλη[σ]-ίον τῆς Σατύρου καὶ Λεύκωνος). Roman imperial tombstone ‘near’ an alter to the Claudian imperial family in Galatia (PHI267246). This use of πλησίον was still in use in the 3rd century CE (e.g., PHI170337 = SEG 44:610) for hot baths ‘near’ Pautalia. PHI269574 = MAMA IV 143 (14- 19 CE, Phrygia), a council-chamber ‘near’ Chalicidice. Perhaps in papyri BGU 7.1580 (‘near’ street) and in PHI217920 = IGR 1101 which says ‘in the Menelaites near the...’ before the text is illegible (τοῦ Μενελαίτου, πλησίον τοῦ). 563 LSJ, “γείτων,” s.v. and BDAG, “γείτων” s.v. For an updated list of occurrences, see DGE, “γείτων,” s.v. which gives vecino, limítrofe, próximo as glosses. 149

an invitation to the wealthy neighbor’s houses to be ‘repaid’ (γένηται ἀνταπόδομά σοι).564 A male shepherd lost one sheep, finds it, and rejoices with his friends and γείτονας (15:6). A woman household manager loses her day’s wage, finds it, and rejoices with her friends and γείτονας (15:9). Πλησίον is a related term, but it usually refers to a temporary spatial nearness.

To tease out this point, the wealthy woman’s γείτονας might include wealthy members of the local elite with whom she can attempt to garner social currency but also artisans, domestic slaves, and laborers. Her πλησίον seems to have a slightly different nuance. Luke urges her to see her πλησίον as mapping onto the familial language with the Christ-group which would include those who do not live physically near her. The artisan and slave are not just brother and sister in the association but also her πλησίον: someone temporarily near her to whom she can show mercy.565

When answering the lawyer’s question about one’s neighbor, the prominent woman might think of her household group, her Christ-group, or her city. At her socio-economic status, she would be expected to demonstrate loyalty to her polis through civic benefactions; she might reasonably conclude that her polis is her neighbor. Thus, showing mercy may take the form of paying for grain subsidiaries for the poor, something the ES4+ members were known to do. It is more likely she would think of her Christ-group first as she would be hearing this parable within the group as her polis is not temporarily near, but her wealth still extends the potential range of neighbors beyond her Christ-group.

She may be shocked at how much money the Samaritan spends. He is not as wealthy as her, but he spends a relatively substantial amount of money on his neighbor including future costs. The Samaritan spends a liberal amount of money on an injured man he does not know and does not belong to his community. If this Samaritan, who has middling wealth, spends his money on an injured stranger, how much more should she spend their money on their own community members?

564 Note the repetition of γ- words here. 565 The question of becoming a neighbor has been addressed in previous scholarship. See, e.g., Schürmann, Lukasevangelium, 2:147 who notes that Jesus’ question shifts to focus on the subject showing love rather than the object of love (“Nicht das Objekt der Liebe, sonder das Subjekt derselben ist erfragt”). 150

She would pick up on the socio-economic factors in the parable quickly. She would understand that all characters seem to travel alone, signaling a lower economic status than her own. She probably relates closest to the character of the priest; not because of any stereotypes of Jewish priests, but because cities appointed priests who could demonstrate their wealth and civic loyalty.566 The message that a priest was not a neighbor to the injured man should speak directly to her as a wealthier member and possible benefactor within the local Christ-group.

The priest’s beliefs and duties would not be unknown to her. As a resident of a large city, she would be familiar with priestly duties one undertakes. Like anyone else in the ancient Mediterranean, she saw the local city priests during monthly festivals. Her socio-economic status means she may know more about the city priests than the slave or artisan. She is probably not familiar with Jewish purity laws aside from not eating pork and keeping Sabbath, and it is doubtful she would see the priest and Levite avoiding the injured man as an action motivated by purity.567

From her perspective, some typical comments on this parable ring true. Stepping into an inn may damage her reputation, but because she is not elite, this point should not be taken too far.568 She may see the Samaritan’s κτῆνος as a sign of his lower social rank which emphasizes the Samaritan’s economic sacrifice. But many typical comments on this passage would not make sense to her. She does not know how far away Jerusalem is from Jericho.569 She only knows it is a dangerous road because the narrative tells her.

The cultic context of this parable is both similar and dissimilar to her own. For this, Luke’s introduction to the parable is helpful for her. For instance, she probably did not know what the Jewish law said regarding eternal life. The lawyer’s question about inheriting eternal life may mirror her own desire to attain an afterlife.570 Nothing in the parable suggests a Judean-

566 But perhaps not if the priest walks alone as in Bailey, Eyes, 43. 567 Contra R. Bauckham, “The Scrupulous Priest and the Good Samaritan: Jesus’ Parabolic Interpretation of the Law of Moses” NTS 44 (1998): 475-89. 568 Oakman, Peasants, 175ff; Bailey, Eyes, 53-54; Green, Luke, 432; Zimmermann, Parables, 310-12. 569 E.g., Green, Luke, 430. 570 Prominent Macedonian women were drawn to the Dionysiac mysteries in which one prepares for the afterlife by memorizing passwords, allowing members insight into their post-mortem journeys. On these journeys, see S. Johnston, “The Eschatology Behind the Tablets,” in Ritual Texts for the Afterlife, eds. F. Graf and S. Johnston; London: Routledge, 2007), 94-136. For Macedonian cults, see C. vom Brocke, Thessaloniki (WUNT 2.125; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001); P. Christesen and S. “Macedonian Religion,” in A Companion 151

Samaritan-Levite cultic squabble to her.571 Rather, it involves a legal question with cultic consequences. To inherit eternal life, she learns that the Jewish law must be fulfilled through neighbor love.

In sum, the thrust of the parable is clear to her. She is not to act as the priest who passed by the injured man, nor like the Levite who likewise did nothing (ὁμοίως, 10:32). She should show mercy like the Samaritan. She is faced with the same instructions that Jesus poses to the lawyer: go and do likewise (ποίει ὁμοίως, 10:37). Here the thrust of the parable to the narrative audience is also the thrust of the parable to the expected audience. In the context of a Christ-group, which is a different context than the lawyer in the narrative, her ‘neighbors’ are those temporarily near to whom she can show mercy. This may extend outside the Christ-group if her surplus is substantial enough. Her use of wealth prepares her for the afterlife and fulfills the Jewish law.

5.1.2 Middling Ephesian Artisan

From the artisan’s point of view, we see a slightly different picture. He does not own a κτῆνος, and he does not carry denarii when traveling if he can help it. He is a typical artisan in that his work takes place in his own home. He has a small surplus of money, but the Samaritan’s economic status is slightly above his own. He probably wonders why the Samaritan travels alone with his animal on a dangerous road but understands the need to earn money sometimes puts one in danger.

Who is the artisan’s πλησίον? Unlike the prominent woman, he cannot perform civic benefactions or distribute large gifts like hers, and his social circles are not as socially important. His immediate circle might be his residential neighbors in his apartment building. His residential neighbors that he interacted with were probably other artisans, merchants, barkeeps, and tradespersons just above or below his economic status, but he was probably

to Ancient Macedonia, eds. J. Roisman and I.Worthington (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), 42-45. For popularity among women in Corinth, see Økland, Women, 112-14. For Philippian women, see Portefaix, Sisters, 33-58; 162-65. 571 Contra Zimmermann, Parables, 315: “The fact that it is, of all things, a Samaritan who helps results in a twofold shock in the reader’s expectations.” 152

living spatially near someone who was quite wealthy.572 He would, however, probably interact and jockey for social currency with residential neighbors of the same socio-economic status—just not at the more socially impactful level of the prominent woman. He may consider some guild members as his neighbors. As he grapples with whether he should engage in cultic rituals in the guild, he will also have to grapple with his use of wealth in that guild. If he stays in the guild, he might be able to use his wealth within the guild to show mercy.

It is more likely that the artisan thinks of the Christ-group first. He may even host a house church in Ephesus. If he did so, he would probably act as patron for the house church.573 As acting host of a house church, he has much more opportunity to gain honor as he is much higher in rank than his work guild.574 He may think that spending money to increase the splendor of his home is a good investment for the social currency returns, for example. Indeed, spending wealth on the domestic space has the added effect of cultic activity; the domestic space becomes ritual space.575 In other words, he may consider spending money on his own house because of the social currency it might garner within the Christ-group. Yet this does not show mercy to his πλησίον, and Luke pushes against this behavior.

In terms of socio-economic status, the artisan relates most to the Samaritan of all our characters. Both are ‘middling’ status who could afford to spend some money on others. Both he and the Samaritan could use their money in ways that might elevate their social status. The economic thrust of the parable may resonate just a bit stronger for the artisan than the prominent woman. Just as the Samaritan spends a liberal amount of money on a stranger in need, the artisan should spend liberally on those in need. The impact of this reading intensifies within a Christ-group setting. Since an injured stranger can be one’s neighbor, how much more are Christ-group members his ‘neighbors’ in need of care?

572 Wallace-Hadrill, Households, 185-86: “We have seen, not so much a gulf between ‘rich families’ and ‘poor families,’ but the promiscuity of the big household, in which rich and poor inhabit the same spaces, separated by social rituals rather than physical environment.” 573 See Trebilco, Ephesus, 95-97 for multiple Christ-groups in Ephesus and Oakes, Romans for artisans as patrons. 574 See Oakes, Romans, for arguments that a workshop in one’s home is the likely place for Christ- group meetings hosted by an artisan. 575 P. Oakes, “Nine Types of Church in Nine Types of Space in the Insula of the Menander” in Early Christianity in Pompeian Light, ed. B. Longenecker (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2016), 27-29. 153

Again, we face the situation in which Luke’s audience members do not know what many commentators assume. Like the prominent woman, the artisan does not know of the rabbinic traditions behind Luke’s parable. The Samaritan appearing as a character does not “shock” him; he does not think of the Samaritan as a “despised schismatic.”576 He knows neither the priest’s potential defilement nor the rabbinic discussions of the afterlife. But we should not conclude the artisan would not understand any ethnic dispute here. For example, the Ephesian city priests were well-known for displaying their love of homeland. Part of being an Ephesian was pride in one’s ethnos, which included patron deities and cultural history. As an Ephesian, the artisan might understand the Jewish priest’s negligence as a caricature of someone who refuses mercy to a different ethnos; for the artisan, he might relate the different ethnos to the Corinthian or Macedonian Christ-groups. But this is an altogether different picture from the Samaritan-Jewish conflict most commentators see in the historical audience.

What strikes the artisan is that the priest, in his view, would have plenty of money to help the injured man. He probably sees the priest as an upper-middling character (ES4+) who was awarded the priesthood like those in his own city. The Samaritan, who is not wealthy, spends a liberal amount of money on the injured man. The artisan, then, must realize that the middling status members are responsible for using their wealth to love their neighbors. They cannot rely on the elite to perform these tasks but are to act “likewise.” If the artisan wants to fulfill the Jewish law to attain eternal life, he will use his surplus to care for his neighbor.

5.1.3 Poor Enslaved Corinthian

Unlike the artisan and the prominent woman, the slave does not have any of Samaritan’s possessions: no animal, wine, oil, and perhaps not 2 denarii. All characters, except for the injured man, rank above her in economic and social status. She is not homeless and eats fairly well even if she only gets scraps from the meals. Her owner provides clothes, food, and shelter in exchange for her servitude.577 Her “well-being” is contingent upon her owners being served. Her peculium would be quite small, but she may have been leased out to care for

576 Green, Luke, 430; Plummer, Luke, 287 respectively. 577 Since, e.g., Aristophanes, Vespae, 442-47. 154

other families as a wet-nurse, if she was a mother, or childcare and so had some opportunities to earn tips in the past.

The slave, most of all our characters, might wonder why the Samaritan helps the injured man at all. He has nothing to gain from it. She was only helped when her owner needs something—any breaks or food were provided so that she could better perform her tasks. Any act that might be considered positive towards her, like the gift of new clothes and sandals, only served to identify her position as a slave.578 She has not experienced the mercy described in this parable much if at all; that is, the act of physically caring for someone else without expecting reciprocal action. If her owner is particularly evil, she may be completely calloused to the idea that the Samaritan does not expect anything in return.

She knew well the hardships of life and the need for care after physical injuries. Even if her owner was somewhat beneficent, she still faced physical abuse as a looming threat. Sexual abuse, too, would be a regular occurrence for her. The slave would surely relate to the injured man as victim of assault. Again, we should point out that the injured man, before his injuries, was higher socially and economically than the slave. It is his physical abuse, not his now destitute status, to which she relates.

If the slave looked to gods like Aphrodite for protection from exploitation and sexual abuse in her present life, she may be quite interested in this parable’s focus on the afterlife.579 Somewhat ironically from her perspective, the care of neighbor in the present life prepares one for eternal life. The hope for a better life, even if it is a better afterlife, would be a significant motivation for her to continue attending the Christ-group in hopes of fulfilling the Jewish law.

In her Christ-group, she probably relied on others to provide meals and other items needed. She may even need to rely on some other members to pay her membership fee.580 Yet it is not her acceptance of help that Luke addresses. She is not exempt from care of neighbor

578 See section 4.4.2. 579 Økland, Women, 94. 580 But see Last, Church, 110 of two middling associations who exempted fees for office holders rather than the poorest members. 155

because eternal life is not guaranteed; this parable pushes her to use her money on her neighbor.

Who is the slave’s πλησίον? She likely thought of the Christ-group first, but she might also consider her familia, particularly the other domestic slave or children, or those she’s worked for as her ‘neighbors.’ As a domestic slave, she is outside of the honor system. Jockeying for social position with her neighbors was not an option for her. She would be responsible for the children in the house or other children for whom she acted as a wet-nurse. Perhaps she thought of these children as her neighbors—temporarily nearby persons to whom she can show mercy. Though it is more likely she sees the members of her Christ-group as neighbors, these possibilities demonstrate a potential range of persons she could show mercy to in her daily life.

Her economic status limits her care for her neighbor. Showing mercy, in the context of the parable, costs time and money of which she has little. Jesus’ words later in Luke will speak directly to her economic situation: “This poor widow (ἡ χήρα αὕτη ἡ πτωχὴ) gave more than everyone. For they all offered their gifts from their surplus (περισσεύοντος). But she from her absence of money (ὑστερήματος) has put in all she had to live on (βίον).”581 She is neither exempt from giving nor is she unnoticed by God.

5.1.4 Conclusion

Reading the parable of the Good Samaritan through the audience members’ lives yielded a few new perspectives on the parable. First, Luke’s audience would not be familiar with many of the typical points raised by commentators. Separating audiences helps scholarship retain the arguments ongoing behind the text whilst giving more attention to how Luke’s audience would have understood this parable. Luke probably does intend some ethnic aspect to this parable, but his audience members do not have the cultural knowledge of the historical referent of this parable. Unlike the historical situation behind the text, Luke’s audience does not know the cultic differences or the history behind the Jewish-Samaritan conflicts. Contra Bock, Bailey, Forbes, and Nolland, the audience would not know the rabbinic traditions which compare eating with Samaritans to pork. They would not know the particularities of

581 21:4. Cf. βίος as “assets” in the parable of the prodigal son (15:12, 30). 156

the Levites though they may be vaguely familiar with their importance in Judean history and identity. The audience could probably understand that Samaritans and the Levites were ἔθνη, and from the lawyer’s question, they could gather that they were related in some way to the Jewish ἔθνος.582 Contra Wright, they would not understand from this parable the crossing of a “covenant-boundary line” or a critique of the Temple cult.583 Essentially, they would be neither privy to the subtler points of rabbinic discussion surrounding these topics nor (contra Spencer and Levine and Witherington) understand LXX allusions not made explicit.584

Second, each social context yielded different ideas of πλησίον. The ES4 members probably sees more people as their πλησίον, perhaps even the entire city. Because they have more wealth, they can help more people. But they might be tempted to use wealth in ways which further their own social status. This is especially the case if they act as patron of the group. The ES5 member could help fewer people but still have a surplus of funds to contribute towards care of neighbor. They would also be tempted to use wealth to gain honor especially if they hosted a house church. The ES6 has even fewer people she might consider neighbor which maps onto the fewer amount of people she can help economically.

Third, the audience members’ interest in the afterlife would be something each member might care about but for different reasons. Perhaps the most pressing reason to prepare for the afterlife is oppression in the present life. The domestic slave and the ES6-7 in the Christ- groups are the most glaring examples here. We contrasted cultic help in the present life with the care of neighbor which grants one an eternal life inheritance. Other cultic beliefs, like Dionysiac mysteries, are an example of preparing for post-mortem journeys inwardly by

582 There is very little evidence for outsider knowledge of Jewish-Samaritan conflicts. ‘Insider’ language is vague and would probably lead to conflation of the groups by outsiders. For example, 2nd century BCE inscriptions from Delos (PHI215711-12) and Thasos (PHI193484) refer to Samaritans as Israelites which can also describe Jews (e.g., Justin, Apol. 1.53.4). Even Josephus (Ant. 13.54) seems to consider Samarians, Galileans, and Pereas as “Judean” at least once. Further, a largely Greek audience would have little previous knowledge of Samaritan cultic practices in agreement with G. Knoppers, Jews and Samaritans (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 238 and Keener, Acts, 2:1488. 583 N.T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 305-07. 584 F. Scott Spencer, “2 Chronicles 28:5-15 and the Parable of the Good Samaritan,” WTF 46 (1984), 317-49; Levine and Witherington, Luke, 293. See argument in chapter 2.2.4.1. On attitudes towards Judeans during the audience’s lifetime, see L. Feldman, Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993); J. Barclay, Jews in the Mediterranean Diaspora (London: T&T Clark, 1996); M. Goodman, ed., Jews in a Graeco-Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). 157

memorizing passwords. This also contrasts with the care of neighbor as socio-economic action that prepares one for eternal life.

Fourth, the Christ-group dynamics concretized the reception of Luke’s parable. Each member is responsible for using their wealth in ways that care for their “Christ-group” neighbor. The parable pushes the wealthier members of the group to care for the poorer members. However, each member’s eternal life inheritance depends on their own care of neighbor. Here we see the economic thrust of the parable more concretely. Caring for one’s neighbor is not something only the wealthy should do; the middling and the poor also have responsibilities. Such a conclusion will be repeated throughout the following parables, but it is perhaps most starkly put here. On the one hand, Christ-group patrons should not use their wealth to enhance their own social status or domestic space but for their poorer ‘neighbors.’ On the other hand, the poor neighbors should not avoid giving however little money they might have.

Finally, this parable pushes against the conclusion that GLk mostly portrays the wealthy as bad and the poor as good. For the domestic slave, the Samaritan is considered a relatively wealthy character; for the prominent woman, the Samaritan is a relatively poorer character. Luke challenges both the ES4 characters and the ES6 characters to give towards care of neighbor. In contrast to Esler’s “grim news for the rich”,585 Luke’s challenge to care for one’s neighbor may be more difficult for those with fewer resources.

5.2 The Prodigal Son (Lk 15:11-32)

In our socio-economic analysis of the parable of the prodigal son, we argued that the son’s behaviors describe his family as approaching elite status and perhaps a provincial elite (ES3+). Along with Dives, the father represents the wealthiest section of society within our selection of parables.

The father in the prodigal son serves as an example of using wealth liberally. Though the story has been named after the son, the father is the main character of the story and an exemplum for his use of wealth.586 When the son returns, the father spends an exorbitant

585 Esler, Community, 187. 586 With Parsons, Luke, 238-43. 158

amount of money to show his guests that his son, who was no longer dressed as an elite, is the guest of honor at his own banquet. The son is not just established as a son, but as a high- ranking son.

The father’s example presses Luke’s audience to spend their money lavishly on those who do not have it. Luke seems to be reiterating that the lower ES levels should not be excluded from banquets (cf. 14:12-14). The father’s use of wealth mirrors the Samaritan, in that he uses wealth to improve the physical and economic condition of someone in need without expecting anything in return. The son is restored as a high-ranking son, but the parable also describes the socio-economic destress of the son by detailing his manual labor, food, and travel. The parable certainly shows a father’s love for his son, but the parable’s socio- economic markers also show a wealthy paterfamilias spending lavishly on an impoverished person whose chose to leave the familia. Both aspects of this parable would be applicable to the Christ-group’s dynamics.

One final note on the meaning of the prodigal son. The parable occurs after two stories in which something of value is lost and is then found. After the item is found, a communal celebration of some kind is necessary. After the story of the prodigal son, Jesus tells the parable of the clever steward (16:1-12), condemns the Pharisees for being lovers of money (16:14-18), and tells the story of Dives and Lazarus (16:19-31). The latter stories all focus on the use of money and possessions, and the role of money in the community of Christians. The parable of the prodigal son, then, serves two functions. First, it illustrates the love of God for “sinners and tax collectors” (15:1) and the necessity of women and non-elites like shepherds in the Christian communities. Second, it illustrates the liberal use of money towards those who are non-elite, even if it is self-sacrificial. Thus, the parable is a narrative transition from the lost and found motif into the use of money motif by utilizing both motifs.587

5.2.1 Wealthy Macedonian Woman

Even if she does not have the amount of wealth displayed here, the wealthy woman may be familiar with the wealth of prodigal son’s family. She may even own the prodigal son’s gifts

587 With Wolter, Luke, 1:242. 159

and so personally relate to the celebration thrown in the parable. She certainly owned footwear like the slippers (solea) worn at the prodigal’s banquet, along with a gilded or dyed pallium and ring. The musicians and dancers, too, demonstrate the vast wealth he enjoys— even more than her own. This parable reflects parts of society in which she might interact and may apply to her situation more directly than the other Christ-group members.

She probably would not understand some common interpretations. She may understand that the father’s love in the parable illustrates the Jewish God’s love, but she may also understand the more direct interpretation of the prodigal’s father as a wealthy landowner.588 Either are possible. However, she certainly would not understand the two sons as “the church divided into two groups, both of which are guilty.”589 She would not understand complex Jewish inheritance laws.590 She would not see the ring, sandals, and robe not as priestly or royal attire with eschatological significance but as socio-economic status signifiers. And finally, her theologizing of the parable, if she engaged in any, would not involve the creation of a new world in which the younger son, representing Israel, returns from exile.591

She would likely see two economic thrusts to this parable. First, Luke shows a wealthy character using massive amounts of wealth on a destitute person. That the character happens to be his son does not mean the father will accept him or spend money to celebrate his return, especially one who demanded his inheritance before his father’s death only to waste it. Second, the return of a sinner/lost one is worth extravagant celebrations. Though the family is wealthy, the father still spends a very large amount of money to celebrate the son’s return. Such spending is not foreign to her, particularly in her socio-economic circles and on

588 God as represented by the father is a typical interpretation. See Fitzmyer, Luke 2:1085-86; Bailey, Poet, 158, “a symbol of God”; Forbes, God, 145; Bock, Luke, 1315; Bovon, Luke 2:422; Nolland, Luke, 2:781- 89; Edwards, Luke, 438. German scholarship is nearly unanimous that the father reflects God’s love since Jeremias, Parables, 128, “the father is not God but… he is an image of God”; Wiefel, Lukas, 284-90; Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 2:685; E. Reinmuth, “Verwalter”; Wolter, Luke, 2:242 except for Schottroff, Parables, 149 who says that the father is not God. Klein, Lukasevangelium, 534 sees baptism in this parable from the language of being dead, lost, and found rather than links to the (better) literary links to the other parables in the chapter. Marshall, Luke, 604 sees the parable’s main thrust as “the love of God for his wayward children.” Snodgrass, Stories, 139-40 sees God as father as one of the parable’s purposes. 589 Bovon, Luke, 2:422. 590 Contra Rengstorf, Re-Investitur, 25ff; Bailey, Poet, 162-65; Bovon, Luke, 2:430. With Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1087 who notes the late date of rabbinical sources. 591 Contra Wright, Victory, 125-31. 160

banquets, but the point that even ‘sinners’ deserve such celebrations underlines the point for her and her Christ-group. She too should spend money on repentant sinners.

In reflecting on the liberal use of wealth in the context of the Christ-group, she may wonder why she should spend large amounts of money on her Christ-group rather than on civic celebrations which garner her more social currency and honor. Unlike the parable of the Good Samaritan, this parable could not apply to the wider society—it involves a restoration within a community stemming from a cultic action of repentance.

She may be particularly drawn to the elder son’s response to the prodigal’s return. He is indignant about the celebration for socio-economic reasons: the younger son wasted the family’s money, and the father has spent even more money to celebrate his return. The father would not give a young goat for the older brother’s own banquet, probably to celebrate friendship and social status with other ES3+ families. Yet the father slaughtered one of the family’s expensive animals when the youngest son returned. The father’s reply is gentle but firm: We must celebrate and be glad; that is, we must spend money on this occasion and celebrate. The ending socio-economic thrust of the parable, then, focuses on the need for celebration in addition to the compassion of the father.592

In the context of a Christ-group, there are a few applications for the wealthy Macedonian woman. First, she should celebrate with and for anyone who joins the group and perhaps especially someone who leaves and re-joins again. As the parable shows, celebrations cost time and money. Such celebration needs funding from someone like her. She would not expect to slaughter a grain-fed calf for every Christ-group celebration, but she would be expected to fund events which celebrate the lowest socio-economic status members in the group. The repentance of a sinner requires celebration, and this point will be driven home further in the parable of the tax collector and the Pharisee. Second, the story demonstrates the need to spend money on the lower social-economic statuses, perhaps even treating them as if they were approaching elite status. The father spends substantial amounts of money to improve his son’s economic standing and restores his social status. The parable’s socio- economic message to the wealthy woman mirrors the parable of the Good Samaritan in that

592 So Nolland, Luke, 2:780-81. Such a conclusion fits with the Pharisees’ complaint in 15:2 and those who argue that the father is the central character here, e.g., Jeremias, Parables, 146; Parsons, Luke, 238-43; Burke, “Prodigal.” 161

regard. Third, she may react as the elder son does. Why should she spend her money on an outcast? Would such a celebration be ‘squandering’ money if there is no chance for social advancement?

5.2.2 Middling Ephesian Artisan

The middling artisan does not relate to the socio-economic status of the prodigal son or father. When the ES3 son loses everything, he becomes a day laborer and cannot feed himself. The artisan surely has economic struggles in his life, but he has not been forced to work the fields or eat pig feed for sustenance. The characters in the parable represent extremes within society, and, as such, leave out the middling artisan’s own socio-economic status.

If the wealthy Macedonian was shocked at the father’s use of wealth, the artisan must be even more shocked at the amount of money in the parable. Nearly all aspects of the family’s life are beyond his level of middling income: a large inheritance, travel without worrying about earning money, grain-fed calves, musicians, and dancers. He pays rent, monthly dues to his guild and Christ-group, feeds his family, and has little surplus to do any other activities. He has only witnessed such celebrations during civic celebrations for Artemis or local heroes like Salutoris; these celebrations are probably what he relates to the prodigal’s elaborate party.

The economic fragility of the middling group is more poignant in this reading. It is a much bigger sacrifice for the artisan to pay for this type of celebration than for the Macedonian woman. He has less and so has less to contribute to celebrations. He would probably be somewhat cautious about spending his money on celebrations, and he would likely depend on the other members making sacrificial contributions for such celebrations.

The artisan may react like the elder son. He already makes sacrifices for the Christ-group. As patron of the Christ-group, he hosts the meetings in his workshop. He contributes money to the group’s fund without fail. He faces tension in his work guild for being a Christ-group member who rejects other deities. He may wonder why he does not receive a celebration like, say, a new member who joins the Christ-group. The father’s words, and God’s words if he understands God as the father, will affect him as much as the prominent woman: εὐφρανθῆναι δὲ καὶ χαρῆναι ἔδει (15:32).

162

We have here a similar argument stemming from the parable of the Good Samaritan: the middling character gave liberally to neighbor care, so how much more should those in higher socio-economic statuses give to neighbor care. Here, we have a high socio-economic status person giving liberally to neighbor care. As we argued earlier, the non-elite did not especially respect the elite. Popular morality saw the rich as greedy exploiters who reveled in having power through benefactions and patronage.593 Luke’s parable forces the artisan to the conclusion that the prominent woman made in the Good Samaritan: how much more should the artisan give to neighbor care and celebrations if this wealthy elite was willing to spare no expense?

5.2.3 Poor Enslaved Corinthian

Like the artisan, the domestic slave does not relate socio-economically to any main character. She has no family to which she can return, no inheritance that she can demand, no wealth that she can waste. She does not work in the fields, so she does not relate to the younger son as a day laborer. She may relate to the somewhat invisible characters of the family’s slaves. Like the slaves in 15:22, she would dress and undress family members at their request. Like the slave in 15:25, she is called when the family needs something regardless of the task she is currently attending to. Like the slaves in the parable, she is invisible until a request is made or a need arises.

She might be shocked at the elder’s brother’s speech to his father. The son of an ES3+ family tells his elite father that he “slaved for many years for you!” (τοσαῦτα ἔτη δουλεύω σοι, 15:29). She might wonder if by this he meant worked the fields like an agricultural slave, but she would certainly feel a deep sense of disconnect from the son’s socio-economic situation and her own. The son has control of his body, his money, and his time. He does not do the menial and laborious domestic work required of her. The son’s complaint to his father confirms her suspicions: he wants to celebrate with his friends.

The economic thrust of the parable is difficult for the slave to hear. She, like the artisan, doubts the goodness of the wealthy. The details of the parable confirm some of her suspicions about the wealthy, but Luke presses her to think about using her small change in ways like

593 See section 1.6.2. 163

the wealthy father. She would need to see the father as someone that she should emulate. From the perspective of popular morality, her imitation of the wealthy father on a socio- economic level might be more difficult than the wealthy woman’s imitation of the middling Good Samaritan.

On the other hand, she, like the artisan, may be shocked at such a festival thrown for a self- proclaimed sinner. She has probably only witnessed such celebrations during a civic festival. The return of a sinner is celebrated with as much pomp as a city’s patron deity or the emperor himself. She especially must wonder if her turn towards God would cause such extravagant celebrations in her Christ-group. Even as she struggles with the idea of imitating an elite, she would feel important as the focus of such celebrations.

5.2.4 Conclusion

Reading this parable through the lens of an expected audience moved exegesis away from the well-worn paths of interpretation focused on the narrative, historical audience, or abstract applications. Scholars’ interpretations of the parable were pushed from a historical setting or a narrative setting and into the audience listening to the parable. For example, Green writes that the narrative audience of the “scribes and Pharisees are invited to find themselves represented in the parable as the elder son.”594 We instead constructed a real audience who might see themselves as the elder son. The application of the parable was narrowed down from the more abstract level of Bock who writes that “the prodigal reminds disciples that God calls them to seek the lost (19:10) and to rejoice when the search is successful.”595 We sought to explain how a Christ-group might rejoice, particularly who might pay for the celebrations and who might be celebrated. Contra Klein, audience would be more likely to apply this parable to general celebrations or banquets in the Christ-group than a baptismal celebration.

Second, the socio-economic thrust of the parable had different connotations to different ES levels. The ES4 member would struggle less in emulating an elite, whereas the ES5-6

594 Green, Luke, 586. Also, Marshall, Luke, 612; Wiefel, Lukas, 290; Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 2:695 concerning Pharisees. Cf. Edwards, Luke, 448 who ties this story with Paul’s conversation in Acts. 595 Bock, Luke, 2:1321. Cf. Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1087; Ernst, Lukas, 345 for similar “big picture” applications. 164

members would probably have some indignance towards the idea. The parable’s thrust is that it is worth celebrating a destitute person who joins the community.596 The elite father celebrated the returned son who showed no outward appearance of social rank. The ES4+ Christ-group members were pushed to elevate those who join the group through socio- economic actions.597 The parable emphasized the elevation of ES6-7 members to participate more fully in the Christ-group’s activities including banqueting. These actions may also allow ES5-7 members to gain some status within the group.

Third, throwing celebrations for sinners was, unsurprisingly, easier for the ES4 members. A key point that this member bumps up against is not to expect reciprocal action from such a celebration which goes against streams of popular morality. This point is emphasized when the elder son complains about his lack of a party. The ES5 host of a Christ-group will have to rely more on the group’s gifts than on his own surplus for such celebrations. This may cause tension for some Christ-group members who joined with no celebration at all and for whom it may be harder to give for such celebrations.598

Finally, the lower ES had little they could directly emulate from this parable, but they might be comforted by the money spent on celebrating the return of the destitute son. The elder son’s speech reflected a typical use of wealth amongst the ES3+ members; that is, using wealth to gain social status amongst similar members of similar social rank. His complaint that he has “slaved” for his father certainly would not be taken at face value. Rather, he might be seen by the Christ-group members as a typical elite. He is, however, chastised by the father. His use of wealth is repudiated and redirected towards a destitute, returned sinner. The lower ES members may see themselves as one who was lost and is now found; that is, one who is worth the honored seat at a banquet and slaughtering the grain-fed calf.

596 With Green, Luke, 586 who rightly connects this ending with narrative framing in 15:2 in which the narrative audience complains that οὗτος ἁμαρτωλοὺς προσδέχεται καὶ συνεσθίει αὐτοῖς. 597 Perhaps like the situation in 1 Cor 1:26, οὐ πολλοὶ εὐγενεῖς which also has socio-economic significance. 598 For example, those members born into the group, slaves whose masters join, or children whose parent(s) join the Christ-group. 165

5.3 The Clever Steward (16:1-8)

The clever steward, his master, and the debtors produced a picture of the wealthy cross- section of society. The steward, though he acted “unjustly,” is praised because he made friends who would welcome him into their houses. He does not use his wealth to earn justification, but to earn housing. He is perhaps the clearest example of the larger cultural norms of using wealth detailed above. He uses wealth to gain φίλους (e.g., patrons or households), but the parable urges its audiences to make a different sort of friend: “the friends in view [for this parable’s punchline] would thus be the recipients of one’s beneficence, in this case, the poor.”599 In other words, the steward helped others who will, in turn, help him.

The steward is an example of how Luke’s audience members should think. Unlike the Good Samaritan, the steward uses his masters’ wealth to the benefit of those who are wealthier than he is. However, he illustrates one of Luke’s key points: the wealthy should use their wealth rather than hoarding it. In the use of wealth, one demonstrates they do not love money because in its use money vanishes. By using one’s money for God, one demonstrates love for God and thus gains eternal housing. The parable of Dives and Lazarus will also illustrate this principle and mirrors the concern for eternal life in the parable of the Good Samaritan. Though the clever steward serves as a parabolic exemplum because he chooses to use money for his own good, Luke’s audience will understand through Luke’s closing comments (16:10- 13) they should use their money for others’ good. In so doing, they demonstrate that they serve God and not money. Once again, Luke is concerned with his audience’s use of wealth to help others rather than critiquing their economic status in general.

5.3.1 Wealthy Macedonian Woman

The thrust of the parable centers around how one should use wealth. The parable’s hook, to use wealth to gain eternal housing in 16:9, repeats a similar claim from the parable of the

599 Hays, Wealth, 145. While possible, I do not think the poor as a monolithic group are in view here but rather the Christ-group. Hays also suggests the steward seeks patronage here through his actions and the language of friendship. While possible, he could just as easily be seeking a new estate to manage. Contra Wolter, Luke, 1:264 who defines friendship too narrowly. Contra Kloppenborg, “Master,” 491 and Moxnes, Economy, 141 who see the steward becoming a patron. 166

Good Samaritan. Using one’s wealth in ways to demonstrate neighbor love fulfills the Jewish law and secures an inheritance of eternal life.600

If she relates directly to a character in this story based on socio-economic status, the debtors or the wealthy man who employs or owns the steward are best choices here. The key element here is her experience as a would-be-patron which might mirror the debtors in the parable. She probably sees the steward’s debt remission as an act to garner a patron after he loses his home and income. Benefaction and patronage loom large over such actions. The wealthy woman certainly patronizes someone who, in turn, honors her, and she gains some social currency by acting as a good patron. As a wealthy woman, she likely had people like the steward approach her seeking patronage or perhaps even seeking a home. As Seneca puts it, she would be asked to “help one person with money, another with credit, another with influence, another with advice, another with sound precepts.”601 Would she be a good patron of a steward like this?

A point that she probably picks up on is that this type of use of wealth is not limited to the steward. Though he directs the action of the parable, the debtors physically change the bill themselves and directly benefit from it (ταχέως γράψον, 16:6). The debtors and the steward benefit from this misuse of wealth: the debtors gain roughly a years’ daily wages each in debt remission, and the steward will presumably gain a home. She would certainly notice that the only party who does not benefit is the wealthy man who was bested by his steward.

If she relates to the wealthy man in the parable, she probably feels the tension in the parable described by modern commentators. The steward was dishonest in a little (e.g., squandering wealth) and so became dishonest in a lot (e.g., erasing 1,080 denarii of debt). The steward has thus gained control over his master’s wealth, squandered it, and subsequently used it for his and others’ gain. In other words, he used someone else’s money as a tool to gain a home. The wealthy woman must have wondered if someone else, like those in the Christ-group, might use her wealth in this way. Clearly, this could not happen in the exact same situation unless she had a steward who was a member of the Christ-group. But if wealth is defined loosely to include things she provided for the group out of her own pocket like benefactions,

600 See a similar argument in Hays, Wealth, 144ff who argues that “the behavior of the Steward [is] an analogy for how disciples might inherit eternal life.” 601 Seneca, Ben. 1.2.4. Basore, LCL. 167

food and drink, or membership fees, someone in dire straits may try to steal items to improve their own lives or as an act of resistance against oppression.602 Would a slave in the Christ- group try to gain a home with her money? Would she suspect the slave or artisan of such actions?

Jesus’ words following the parable stand much stronger to her in this context. She cannot think of money as the end goal but as a tool. If she thinks of money as an end, she is serving money and not God. She then must assume the quite vulnerable position of knowing that others may seek to take advantage of her finances, benefaction, and other donations to the group.

She probably has experienced someone attempting to take advantage of her financially. The interaction between the wealthy man and the steward may speak to her social situation from the perspective of one who has money. The main characters of the parable use money to further their own interests, and she would not be shocked by the motivations of these characters. On the contrary, such motivations were a part of daily life for her. Like the rich man in the parable, she may also contract someone who manages her various accounts from someone who would function like a dispensator. As we saw, these managers may ‘misplace’ or ‘scatter’ her money (16:1). Although the steward does not steal money for himself, he does manipulate money for the benefit of his employer’s debtors. She probably understands that the steward and the debtors acted “unjustly” but also “wisely” in using money as a tool to prepare for the future.

The thrust of this parable removes the power she has over her wealth and those who have access to it. Instead of doling out harsh punishments for using someone else’s wealth as a tool, the steward is praised.603 The parable engages with the common trope of a wily slave who bests his owner, so this ending of the parable is not unexpected.604 But that does not

602 The lower socio-economic statuses might understand stealing from the rich as a type of resistance according to Bradley, Slavery, 115ff. 603 It is debated if Jesus or the master praises the steward. Cf. Wolter, Luke, 2:266; Klein, Lukasevangelium, 540-42. 604 Interpretation common since at least J.D. Crossan, In Parables (New York: Harper & Row, 1964), 95-98. Crossan’s conclusions were critiqued, but the premise of trickster retained in Scott, Hear, 187; Beavis, “Ancient Slavery”; Parsons, Luke, 245-49; Harrill, Manumission, 66-82. 168

change the thrust of the parable which, in addition to seeing money as a tool to be used, removes power and control from those who have wealth.

She would not recognize the power structure between the rich man and the manager that some commentators see within the narrative. Bovon, for instance, notes that the rich man “was obliged to ask his subordinate to step down.”605 Bovon and others create a type of power structure in which the steward would be dismissed from a job and simply find another one without facing punishment from his employer/owner. This is highly unlikely. In this instance, it would not matter if the steward was a freedman or slave as he could face legally sanctioned physical abuse as either.606 Employers quite often physically punished their employees especially in the case of theft or a dishonored reputation (cf. 16:1). This punishment applies even if the rich man initially knows only about the steward’s ‘squandering’ rather than outright fraud.607 If the steward is a freedman, his employer could cite insolence and flog him, sue him to exile the steward, or have him sent to the mines.608 If he is a slave, he could receive even harsher punishment or some combination of the above punishments.609 The steward has neither legal protection from his employer nor any expectation to be dismissed with no other punishments.

The parable states that money is to be used to make φίλους.610 Who might be potential friends for the wealthy woman? One option might be generally friends who were formed during her life through social contacts or generationally. They might be formed during social occasions, like civic festivals or work, or prolonged positive interaction over the course of one’s lifetime (e.g., residential neighbors). These social circles would be important for forming a friendship. Her social circles, as argued earlier, would be ES4 which approaches

605 Bovon, Luke, 2:447. Cf. Edwards, Luke, 451, “terminates him”; Bock, Luke, 2:1328, “dismisses him.” See also Reinmuth, “Verwalter,” 639 and others who argue that losing the managerial position with no threat of violence definitively means that the steward is not a slave. No mention of power structures in Marshall, Nolland, or Wolter. 606 H. Mouritsen, The Freedman in the Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 53-54 who cites Paul, Dig. 47.2.90: “If a freedman or a client steal from the patron or a hired laborer from his employer, he commits theft but no action for theft rises.” Mouritsen sees this as a crime that should be settled domestically with (typically physical) punishment that stops short of flogging. 607 Contra Wolter, Luke, 2:263. 608 Mouritsen, Freedmen, 54 who interprets Ulp. Dig. 1.12.1.10 as liberti needing punishment; Mod., Dig. 37.14.7.1 for beatings, confiscating the freedman’s possessions; Ulp., Dig. 37.14.1.1 for exile, physical beatings with a stick, and sent to the mines. 609 M. Beavis, “Ancient Slavery as an Interpretive Context for the New Testament Servant Parables with Special Reference to the Unjust Steward (Luke 16:1–8),” JBL 111 (1992): 37-54. 610 For the phrase “making friends,” see Wolter, Luke, 2:268; Pelligrino, “οἰκονόμος,” 170-71. 169

provincial elite status. She probably has a few wealthy friends, particularly if we see their socio-economic status from the perspective of other Christ-group members. She probably jockeys for other potential friendships from others more important socially and perhaps wealthier than her. Is she to make these kinds of friends with her money?

A second option is the more abstract notion of friendship. Commentators have seen “the poor” or some heavenly being denoted by φίλους. These options typically limit the referent of ‘friends’ to the narrative. Wolter, for example, thinks of an eschatological patron who can provide one with a heavenly home.611 The theological reasoning for seeing ‘the poor’ as in view here makes some sense. In the Good Samaritan parable, using money to care for the injured man fulfills the law and thus secures an eternal home. The narrative context gives further evidence for this view. The idea that the poor welcome the rich into their eternal homes seems to foreshadow the parable of Dives and Lazarus if only in rough outline. If she thought of friendship in this sense, that is, thinking of friends within the narrative itself and then applying that concept to her own life, she probably thought of her friends as the poor, the poor here meaning either real or potential Christ-group members. But most importantly, the parable does not mention the poor. In fact, the parable’s characters are all quite wealthy compared to Luke’s audience.612 It is difficult to see friends as strictly the poor in this case.613

A third option is that she may have thought more generally about her own Christ-group association. Φίλος was also a term for association members.614 The word does not need to refer to an association member, but it is also used of two different groups of Christian associations in 3 John 1:15-16: “οἱ φίλοι greet you. Greet τοὺς φίλους by name.” The Christ-group connection is made stronger by the phrase “children of light” in 16:8 which is used in literature older than GLk to refer to Christ-followers (Eph 5:8; 1 Thess 5:5; cf. John 12:36). In this case, she would seek additional Christ-group members through her use of wealth and by being a good patron to the Christ-group. Making ‘friends’ here indicates those

611 Wolter, Luke, 2:269 argues unconvincingly that only heavenly patrons make sense because eternal dwellings exist only there. Cf. Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 2:703; Jeremias, Parables, 45. Hayes, Wealth, 144-46 is more nuanced but also sees a heavenly referent here. 612 One usually has wealth to use it properly, but the steward circumvents that by using someone else’s wealth. 613 With Wolter, Luke, 2:269. 614 IG II2 1369=PHI3585 (Athens, 2nd c. CE) σύναγον φίλοι ἄνδρες; IPrusaOlym 18 (2nd c. CE), 24 (1st c. CE) =PHI278509, 278515; ISmyrna 720=PHI255891 (undated, Ionia), φίλοι. Further references in Harland, Dynamics, 45. 170

outside the Christ-group who could join. As we saw before, this would entail using money on the poorer members of the Christ-group but is not limited to the “poor.”615 Such an understanding of ‘friends’ may overlap with the concept of ‘neighbor’ in the Good Samaritan.

A fourth option relates to friendships and households via patronage outside the Christ- group.616 Making one a ‘friend’ could sometimes mean joining one’s household. Plutarch relates a story in which a plot to save a stranger convinced the Athenians he knew Phocion and that Phocion should not be sent to his certain death. Even though Phocion did not know the man, he responded later: “But now, from this very day, I make you both a friend and a member of [my] household” (Ἀλλὰ νῦν ἀπὸ τῆς σήμερον ἡμέρας καὶ φίλον σε ποιοῦμαι καὶ οἰκεῖον).617 Should we understand ‘friend’ in this way, the steward very literally becomes the debtors’ friends: he sought (and presumably received) a place of residence through his use of money and gained a household. When applied to the wealthy woman, she might encourage other ES4 members to become patrons of Christ-groups to gain ‘friends’ through their use of wealth.

These options are not exclusive and are meant to highlight different ways in which she might understand using unjust money to make friends. A pattern does remerge from these possibilities. In most options above, the parable directs her attention towards the Christ- group. She might use her socio-economic status to encourage others to become patrons to different Christ-groups. She may also give more of her money to the poor within the Christ- group. To the wealthy woman, making friends might mean encouraging potential patrons to join the Christ-group and using wealth on those both within and without the Christ- group. At this end of the ES, friends may indicate hierarchy in the language of patronage.

She is again faced with the notion of inheriting something eternal. Here she is to make friends who will welcome her into her eternal dwellings. Using wealth as a tool enables one to give

615 Contra Marshall, Luke, 622; Nolland, Luke, 2:808; Wiefel, Lukas, 294 who see the poor as friends and almsgiving in context of the narrative. Green, Luke, 594 rightly emphasizes reciprocity but then sees almsgiving as the way to make friends with the poor, forming a social solidarity between the socio-economic groups. 616 See Hays, Wealth, 53 for ‘friend’ as an address to a patron. 617 Plutarch, Phocion, 23.2. 171

more freely to the poor.618 It is the use of wealth which has the potential to create eternal dwellings into which she will be welcomed by her friends. She faces again the preparation for the afterlife, and indeed the inheritance of an eternal dwelling, through her use of wealth.

In sum, the parable greatly challenges the wealthy woman. She would likely know that ‘friend’ could be used as a familial term or term for association members that may signify potential patronage. She is faced with the realization that her wealth is not actually her own. It is a tool to be used for other’s gain. In theory, her wealth could be used by others in her Christ-group as a tool. She is put in a vulnerable position which shifts control of her wealth away from her. This vulnerable position will also grant her an inheritance of eternal dwellings.

5.3.2 Middling Ephesian Artisan

The artisan does not map clearly onto any characters in the parable in terms of socio- economic status. He has some surplus wealth but not nearly as much as these characters. He has no need for a steward. He would not have outstanding loans of 500 denarii, because he does not have collateral for them. He does not usually deal with large scale merchants. The artisan probably sees debtors as predatory merchants who exploit people like him through unfavorable contracts.619 The merchants are not the type of friends he would want. Why would he do them any favors?

But the overall thrust of the parable can speak to him in socio-economic terms because he has some surplus wealth. According to the parable, even this relatively small amount of surplus wealth is not really his. He is also put in a vulnerable situation but not to the same extent as the wealthy woman nor in the same ways. He has less money to be used by someone else. Just how much of his money should he make available to make friends? How much of his money should he use to gain eternal homes? He has less to spare than the wealthy woman; will his vulnerability lead to his own financial need? If the artisan thought in this way, he, perhaps more so than the wealthy woman, might realize that he will gain eternal housing should he lose his apartment.

618A nuanced view of Wolter, Luke, 2:269 who does not see giving to the poor here. 619 See chapter 2 for relationship between labor, merchants, and artisans. 172

As detailed earlier, the artisan would probably use money as a tool for social advancement in his daily life. Such use of wealth was standard. He may not engage in fraud like the steward, but the desire to use money to gain social status may lead him towards actions which may harm those in the lower ES. Instead of using money in this way, he too is responsible for making friends with this wealth. But who would he think of as his friends? His social circles would probably include his extended family, his work colleagues, his fellow Christ-group members, his neighbors, and perhaps a few repeating customers or contractors. This still includes a good number of potential friends to be gained, but they are different types of people from the wealthy woman. Should we narrow this down using the options detailed above, he might think about the Christ-group in particular.

Artisans could be patrons of Christ-groups, so he could attempt to gain friends who might be potential Christ-group patrons using his socio-economic status. But his circle of friends would be much smaller than the wealthy woman’s circles as his level of influence and his surplus wealth to be used would be smaller. We developed the four overlapping connotations of ‘friends’ in the analysis above: (1) friends formed during one’s life through social contacts or generationally; (2) an abstract notion of ‘friends’ which refers to the poor, angels, or something similar; (3) Christ-group association members; (4) members of one’s household. If he is a patron of a Christ-group, all these connotations would make sense in different ways. He could form friends with an aim to have them join the Christ-group (1), give money to the poor generally (2), use his wealth on the members of the Christ-group (3) who are poor (2) or have just joined (1), or use money to gain members of his actual (or fictive) household (4). Even though they are in quite different social circles, the artisan and wealthy woman have relatively similar options available to them.

5.3.3 Poor Enslaved Corinthian

At first glance, we might attempt to map the clever steward directly onto the life of the slave. As we have noted above, commentators argue that the steward might be a slave. Yet the domestic slave’s life is lost on many interpretations of this parable. Even when interpreters see the steward as a slave, the life of a vilicus/dispensator cannot be compared to the more common existence of a first-century slave (e.g., domestic slaves, artisan slaves). There is very little in the story which maps onto the domestic slave’s life at all. She is probably not literate.

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She is not known within relatively high socio-economic level society (ES4) and thus cannot hope to have a new home unless she is sold or freed. If she was found wasting her owner’s money, she would certainly be beaten or, in an extreme situation, sent to the mines. She finds no character which reflects her own socio-economic situation.

The slave is in a similar position listening to this parable as the Good Samaritan parable: she has less influence because she has less money, but her money is worth more than the other members’ money to God. She does have some money in her peculium, so the parable does have something to say to her about using that money. She does not have the option of letting others solely win friends; she must do the same.

What kind of friends might she make? Her social contacts are limited in comparison to the artisan and the wealthy woman. Just as the artisan is limited by his work to bring in an income, she is limited by her owner’s demands on her life and body. Her friends overlap with her ‘neighbors’: they are children, her household, and perhaps hawkers or street vendors she speaks with for the family.

As with the parable of the Good Samaritan, she perhaps more than the others will feel driven to use her money as a tool to gain eternal life. Eternal homes promise to be better than her current home. In this sense, she might imagine the eschatological meaning sometimes read into the parable in which ‘friends’ are heavenly beings or angels.620 Angels welcoming her into an eternal home may be exactly the type of motivation she needs to continue to attend the Christ-group and use the little money she has on the Christ-group.

But would she think of these heavenly beings as her friend? Some elites, kings, heroes, or mythic persons could have the title Διὶ Φίλος, but this seems to mean a deity’s favored person or someone to whom a deity is exceptionally well-disposed.621 Being a friend to the gods does not have the same meaning as human relationships; there is emphasis not on being a friend

620 Jeremias, Parables, 182; Dodd, Parables, 17; Plummer, Luke, 380; Marshall, Luke, 616; Wolter, Luke, 2:266-67. See further Hays, Wealth, 144-46; D. Landry and B. May, “Honor Restored: New Light on the Parable of the Prudent Steward” JBL 119 (2000), 287-309. 621 Eg., Jason to Hera (Ody. 12.73 only φίλος) Eumaeus to Zeus (Ody., 14.440; 15.341). cf. Plato, Timaeus, 53D. See F. Dirlmeier, “ΘΕΟΦΙΛΙΑ – ΦΙΛΟΘΕΙΑ”, Philogus 90 (1939): 57-77, 176-93 who argues such terms have an ethical meaning which demonstrates the deity’s approving disposition towards the person in question. 174

to the gods but on the gods being friendly.622 Stoics did have some discussion over the possibility of befriending gods, but there is still a qualitative difference in such relationships.623 Against this view, one would not usually consider relationships to deities in this way even if some Jewish literature may speak rarely to the possibility of this option.624 The logical end of this view holds that she should use her money to curry divine favor with angels or God, i.e., making ‘friends’ with money. If we are to see the friends as divine figures, we must also see the command in 16:9 to use money to make those divine figures well- disposed towards one’s self. However, the parable focuses on human relationships between at least four different people. The thrust of the parable—that money is a tool to be used rather than something to serve—has human consequences. The parable has no divine elements: it has human characters and those humans giving praise for actions done in the parable. As this is the case, the slave probably thought of humans around her as possible friends. The conclusion fits with the other parables: earthly actions to other humans have eternal consequences.625

Would she, like the artisan and the wealthy woman, feel vulnerable about the possibility of her money being used by someone else? Unlike the artisan and the wealthy woman, she is already in the vulnerable position the artisan and the wealthy woman must assume: her peculium could be, at any time, used by or withdrawn by her owner, the paterfamilias. Her wealth is already not her wealth in a very real sense. These experiences of a domestic slave may have more to teach to the other Christ-group members about vulnerability than the freedmen or patrons in the Christ-group.

If we read her experience next to the artisan and wealthy woman, she may be the most likely of the Christ-group members to want to use another’s money to better her own life. She might wonder what the limits of seeing money as a tool are within the boundaries of the Christ-group. Could she use the wealthy woman’s money to gain her freedom or even a different household like the steward? Perhaps she would not think of the parable so literally. If her money is simply a tool to be used to gain eternal homes, she may think generally about

622 D. Konstan, “Problems in the History of Christian Friends” JECS 4 (1996), 87-113. 623 Philodemus, On the Gods, Col. 1.17-18; Xenophon, Symp. 4.47-48; Diogenes Laert, 6.72. Cited in Konstand, “Problems.” 624 See Abraham as φίλος θεοῦ in James 2:23 and n.626. 625 Contra eschatological readings of this parable in n.624. 175

the Christ-group. What food can she bring to the table? What donation can she give for the homeless, widows, or other impoverished peoples in the group?

5.3.4 Conclusion

Reading the parable through the lens of our audience members has yielded a few different results. First, this section argued that the parable seems to be aimed directly at those who have money which can be used for different purposes, but the parable can apply to anyone who uses money generally. Money is a tool to be used not a goal to be attained; such a thrust makes the most sense to those who have money. Benefaction too seems encouraged in this parable. Luke may also have hospitality in mind, but the language of accepting one into one’s household speaks more to benefaction than hospitality. Aspects of reading, writing, debts, large amounts of money, crops, goods, merchants, and a dispensator together depict an ES4+ socio-economic scene. This parable may challenge those with higher amounts of surplus wealth in different ways than those who have less. Such a conclusion matches the argument in chapter 3 that the merchants were not impoverished tenant farmers but wealthy merchants who can patronize the steward.

Second, the different power structures some commentators see within the parable were critiqued. Bailey, Kloppenborg, Bock, and Nolland who see a tenant farming situation within the historical audience portray a power structure that would not resonate with Luke’s audience members. So too Bock, Bovon, Edwards, and Reinmuth see the steward as an employee who is sent on his way after being ‘fired.’ We argued that the steward could face physical abuse or exile for his actions. In short, the parable tells of the steward’s escape from one who will harm him to another patron who will house him.

Third, we demonstrated the vulnerability of allowing others to use one’s money. This is most uncomfortable for those with much money to lose and empowering for those with much to gain. It is not enough for the wealthy members of Luke’s audience to give to the ES6-7 members; they must view money as tools that the ES5-7 members might use if that money belonged to them. We saw that the middling or poorer members might be more vulnerable than the rich in some ways. They have less disposable income to use, and thus it matters more to them if that money is used by someone else. We also saw that Christ-group members with peculia already faced this vulnerability in daily life. 176

Fourth, we explored the notion of ‘friends’ within three different social contexts. Four overlapping connotations of the word were found, but most connotations pointed to the Christ-group. Friends probably refers to potential and current Christ-group members. Making friends meant different things to different ES levels. At the higher socio-economic end, making friends meant encouraging more benefactors to join or host the Christ-group. This would literally provide a home for the Christ-group members during their meetings. At the lower end, making friends meant encouraging others to join the Christ-group which might lead to finding a generous benefactor. We explored the idea that ‘friend’ may overlap with the concept of ‘neighbor’ in the Good Samaritan parable. Whilst ‘neighbor’ emphasized temporary spatial nearness, ‘friend’ seems to emphasize potential or current group relationships which might potentially be more hierarchical than ‘neighbor.’

In sum, the parable of the Clever Steward is about use of money. His use of money gave him new patrons who are well-disposed towards him. The parable urges its audience to use wealth instead of hoarding it. Even unjust wealth can be used for good.

5.4 Dives and Lazarus (16:19-31)

Dives and Lazarus contains the starkest contrast of rich and poor in the Gospel. We have the wealthiest of any character and the poorest of any character. Dives’s economic status was ES4+ whilst Lazarus was ES7, an economic gap unmatched by the other parables. There is no middling economic status here; only extreme wealth and extreme poverty. The parable contains elements of banquets and starvation, householders and homelessness, judgment and salvation, divine escorts and nameless burials, sufferings in the present and afterlife, and reclining and torture. Whilst some parables do not have a binary between the extremely wealthy and the impoverished, this parable focuses on the binary and reasons why such a binary should not exist. None of the audience members will be exempt from caring for the poor, but the sharpest reactions will stem from the wealthy woman and the domestic slave.

The meaning of this parable is tricky, but it seems to give bones to Jesus’ woe to the rich as those who have received their consolation (6:24). Dives also does not use his wealth to love his neighbor, Lazarus. As we will argue, the spatial dimension between Dives and Lazarus

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picks up on the spatial connotations of ‘neighbor’ in the Good Samaritan. Dives saw Lazarus each day, and he “passed by” him like the priest and Levite passed by the injured man. With modern scholars, we see also this parable as demonstrating the way to use wealth in comparison to the Clever Steward.626 Luke’s audience members would likely see connections between both parables, so we will draw attention to different aspects of each parable in comparison to Dives and Lazarus.

By wearing purple publicly, Dives uses his wealth to announce his status. His banquets are probably like symposia in that the status of the host is spread amongst the communities. He reveled in his own comfort whilst Lazarus receives his in the afterlife. The elite members of Luke’s audience are given a stern warning: use your wealth on yourself and risk an afterlife apart from God. There is some contrast with the previous parables here. Unlike the clever steward, Dives did not use his wealth to gain eternal housing.627 Unlike the Good Samaritan, Dives had the means and the time to give without any injury to his own coin purse.

According to Abraham, Dives is in Hades because he received “good things” (τὰ ἀγαθά) in life. From this, Metzger and Bauckham deduce Dives is condemned for being rich. 628 However, Luke elsewhere does not condemn large houses with gates, purple clothing, or banquets. Lydia, who makes and sells purple clothing, is called a God-fearer and praised for her hospitality to Paul (Acts 16:14ff). Jesus twice reclines as if at a banquet (κατεκλίθη, 7:36; 24:30). He elsewhere tells his host to continue hosting feasts, but to include the poor rather than the rich (14:12-14). Simon the Tanner and John Mark’s mother Mary both have gates to their houses and are positive characters who host Paul and Peter respectively. Rather than Dives’ condemnation solely deriving from his socio-economic status, his condemnation is linked to his use of wealth.629

626 Wiefel, Lukas, 290-97; Klein, Lukasevangelium, 534-63; Wolter, Lukasevangelium, 542-63. 627 With Wolter, Luke, 2:278. 628 Metzger, Consumption, 136: “Wealth and services to God... are totally incompatible (16:13)” and “had the rich man opened the gate and given alms to Lazarus yet remained wealthy, he would not have improved his chances of joining Abraham and Lazarus...” (146). R. Bauckham, “The Rich Man and Lazarus: The Parable and the Parallels,” NTS 37 (1991): 232-33: “the rich man suffers in the next life because he was rich in this life...” 629 This is a majority view. See Bock, Luke, 2:1372; Snodgrass, Stories, 432; Bennema, “The Rich Are the Bad Guys”, 100-101. Esler, Community, 196-200 and Wi, Salvation sees the salvation of the rich as dependent upon their actions towards the poor. 178

5.4.1 Wealthy Macedonian Woman

The wealthy woman would recognize several elements in this parable. She is not as wealthy as Dives; he is at least ES4 whilst the woman is at most ES4. Still, she attends some banquets, knows of elites who wear purple, and knows of people in her city with large houses. The wealthy and prominent people in her city were well-known; indeed, they wanted to be well- known. Civic benefactions, or parties for wealthy socialites, were meant to display one’s name in public. Lazarus and everyone who passed Dives’ parties knew who lived in the domus, but Dives pays no attention to Lazarus.

From her perspective, comments routinely made would not make sense. It is unlikely she 630.( עלא ז ר ) would make the connection between the name Lazarus and its Aramaic etymology She would not see banquets or large houses as the cause of Dives’ afterlife because banquets and large houses themselves are not condemned elsewhere in Luke’s gospel. Lazarus’ placement at the gate does not indicate judgment; she would not know that “in Israel the gate is the place where judgment is properly rendered.”631 It is doubtful she knew of the oft- quoted Egyptian folk tale that probably does not lurk behind this parable.632 She would not understand Dives as “doing no more than living out the life of his class”633; as argued earlier, those with money had a social responsibility to be good patrons or brokers. Even if that action was motivated by self-interest, wealthy benefactors still gave money and material possessions to the lower socio-economic statuses. She may understand that Dives is a caricature, but she would surely see his actions without thinking he was simply going about normal life as a wealthy person.

630 Contra Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1131; Nolland, Luke, 2:828; Bock, Luke, 2:1365, “the name is significant, for it indicates someone dependent on God”; Klein, Lukasevangelium, 522; Edwards, Luke, 468; Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 2:722. Wolter, Luke, 2:280 is cautious in drawing conclusions. Bovon, Luke, 480-81, R. Bredenhof, Failure and Prospect (LNTS 603; London: T&T Clark, 2019), 48 argues GLk’s audience would not know the Aramaic etymology. 631 Edwards, Luke, 467. 632 Most recent commentators argue the suggested reversal motifs occur throughout the Greco-Roman world in Egyptian, Jewish, Greek, Roman, and Christian writings and do not see specifically Egyptian parallels behind the parable (e.g., Nolland, Luke 2:826-27; Bovon, Luke, 2:473-74, Klein, Lukasevangelium, 551-52). See the modern article arguing against Egyptian parallels in R. Bauckham “The Rich Man and Lazarus: The Parable and its Parallels,” NTS 37 (1991), 225-46. 633 Nolland, Luke, 2:831. 179

The parable’s setting and characters may remind her of the previous parables analyzed.634 Dives sees Lazarus at his gate and passes him by each day like the priest and Levite in the Good Samaritan parable. The pluperfect ἐβέβλητο in 16:20 probably indicates that Lazarus laid at Dives’ gate for some time like the injured man along the road.635 Lazarus longs (ἐπιθυμῶν, 16:21) for scraps of food from Dives’ table like the prodigal son longed (ἐπεθύμει, 15:16) to eat carob pods. Dives’ use of money as a tool to cement his social status through banqueting is like the clever steward’s use of money as a tool to gain a home. This parable builds upon the previous teachings on wealth in stark, memorable contrasts with direct implications for her use of wealth.636

If the pressure for her to use wealth in cultic ways was mounting in the previous parables, it comes to a climax here. She must prepare an eternal house for herself by caring for her neighbor. She is reminded that the law and the prophets contain this message to care for the poor, and GLk ties this into his statement about the law and prophets preceding this parable (16:16-17). Her care of neighbor fulfills Jesus’ interpretation of the Jewish law. She once again is told explicitly that the fulfillment of the Jewish law, here represented by “Moses and the prophets”, grants eternal life.637 Her economic actions in this life have cultic implications in this life and the next. Her care of neighbor, not her cultic knowledge or social relationships, fulfill the Jewish law.

This parable erases any doubt in her mind about the necessity of using her money for the lower ES members of the Christ-group. According to Luke’s parable, misuse of one’s wealth means neglecting the poor in favor of items or actions meant to display or gain status or honor. Dives is condemned for withholding merciful use of money that he clearly had every opportunity to extend. His failure to use his money to care for Lazarus condemns him to a Tartarus-like existence.638

634 With Nolland, Luke, 2:282; Tannehill, Narrative, 1:119. 635 On pluperfect, see M. Parsons, et al., Luke (BHGNT; Waco: Baylor University Press, 2010), 530. 636 With Hays, Wealth, 159. 637 Moses was well-known as the Jewish foundational figure and lawgiver since at least the third century BCE (Hecataeus of Abdera, Aegyptiac). More relevant for the audience is Diodorus, L.H. 40.3.3-4; Strabo, Geog. 16.2.34-39, and Tacitus, Hist. 5.4. See section 2.2.4. 638 While we cannot argue the point here, misuse of wealth and refusing to help the destitute may be tantamount to hubris in GLk. 180

She may not feel sympathy for Dives’ predicament, but she probably recognizes the behaviors displayed by Dives. As argued earlier, Christ-groups need those with surplus wealth to continue hosting and spending money on the Christ-groups. This parable demonstrates how Dives cares more for money and status than his neighbor. She is here reminded that loving one’s neighbor is caring for the ES7 Lazarus and not just about gaining social rank. Crucially, only the former can prepare eternal homes. In the same vein, Luke’s description of the Pharisees as φιλάργυροι (“lovers of money”, 16:4) immediately preceding this parable may give her pause. The parable emphasized money as a tool to be used, but it also demonstrated one cannot be dedicated to both God and money within the Christ-group.

5.4.2 Middling Ephesian Artisan

The artisan would not relate directly to either character in socio-economic terms. He is not destitute like Lazarus or wealthy like Dives. The caricatures may remind him of aspects of his life: he surely passes by homeless people to and from the markets, and he knows of his city’s wealthy elite. Elites publicly display their social status and actions, so he knows how they spend their money. Though he does not see himself in either character, GLk’s parables have prepared him to see his money within the parable. Dives uses his money for social advancement: he banquets and wears purple clothing near Lazarus who is clothed in sores and saliva. Not only should Dives use his money as a tool to feed and clothe Lazarus, but these actions would prepare Dives for an eternal home. Because Luke has demonstrated that the care for the poor in the previous three parables, the artisan would understand this economic point quite quickly.

The artisan’s previous cultic allegiances to gods like Artemis would help in his present life but not the afterlife. If he knows of the same tradition that Philostratus knows (Vita Soph. 2.23.2), he may wonder why Lazarus does not stay in a structure like the Ephesian Artemision’s banqueting-hall (ἑστιατήριον) which may have housed and fed the poor and homeless.639 Even temples such as these provided for the poor. The artisan may wonder why Dives’ personal banqueting hall fails to do what the Artemision’s banqueting hall does.

639 Cf. R. Strelan, Paul, Artemis, and the Jews in Ephesus (BZNW 80; Berlin: De Gruyer, 1996), 75. 181

Dives’ post-mortem request may strike the artisan more personally than it did the prominent woman. The brothers are off-stage and unseen with no agency or characteristic of their own. Dives wants to warn his brothers of his fate just as Luke may be simultaneously warning his audience. Though the artisan has less money than the prominent woman, this parable makes clear that he is still responsible for using his money for the poor’s benefit. As Wolter puts it, “If the five rich brothers ‘repent’ (v. 30) and give clothing and food to those who have nothing (3:11) as ‘fruits of their repentance’ (3:8), then they will avoid the unsalvific fate [sic, trans. Unheil] that has met their brother.”640 Will the artisan pay heed to the poor or will he reject them and one resurrected?

The artisan does not know the Torah and the prophets well enough to judge Jesus’ teachings as legitimate halakhah. He knows that Jesus’ teachings stem from Jewish tradition, but the artisan relies on Luke to explain that such teachings carry with them the fulfillment of Jewish law. In the final section of this parable, Luke again connects Jesus’ message with the Jewish prophets and laws; to Luke, the Christ-group movement allows those like the artisan to fulfill the Jewish law even if they did not know Torah. Jesus’ teachings flow from “Moses and the prophets;” a rejection of Jesus’ teachings is also a rejection of Torah.641 Thus commentators who wish to see anticipation of Jesus’ teachings and resurrection in the OT being fulfilled in the narrative have it the wrong way round.642 It is not that the artisan understands Jesus’ ministry as a fulfillment of the OT because he is an expert on Jewish law; it is that through Jesus’ ministry that the artisan comes to understand the Jewish law and how he, a Gentile in Ephesus, can fulfill that law with no temple, no experience of the Jewish homeland, and no

640 Wolter, Luke 2:285. 641 Edwards, Luke, 471 is not nuanced enough: “In discussing the Law and the Prophets, the rich man also dismisses the gospel.” Edwards is mixing the sub-narrative audience (e.g., Dives in the parable) with the narrative audience (e.g, Pharisees and disciples), Luke’s own audience (e.g., the artisan outside the text). Similarly, Klein, Lukasevangelium, 556 points out the narrative Pharisees must already know the Law (“Sie [Pharisäer] müßten eigentlich alles wissen”) but moves directly to comments about the convincing nature of Jesus’ resurrection in light of the OT. 642 E.g., Edwards, Luke, 471; Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1129. 182

sacrifices.643 As such, this parable teaches early Christian ethics as well as Jewish ethics in addition to foreshadowing the Emmaus road in Luke 24.644

5.4.3 Poor Enslaved Corinthian

The slave may relate somewhat to Lazarus, but not in strict economic terms: she has food, clothing, and a home. Yet she may understand how Lazarus’ life is ignored or even unseen by those nearest and most able to help. Though clearly not to the extremes seen in this parable, her life was invisible to those nearest her just as Lazarus is to Dives.

She probably picks up on the spatial parameters Luke pointed out in chapter 3.645 In her life, she is spatially near to many people but ignored or rejected by those in higher socio-economic statuses like Dives. Lazarus and Dives are close in life—Lazarus lies at his gate—but separated by an uncrossable chasm in the afterlife. Where there was once physical proximity but invisibility, there is now physical distance with direct lines of sight. Abraham’s words bring this contrast to center stage with an emphasis on the temporal difference (16:25, νῦν δὲ ὧδε). She would probably understand that Lazarus has joined Abraham at a postmortem banquet. Lazarus now has ample food and drink to enjoy whilst Dives suffers. Dives was excluded in the afterlife as Lazarus was excluded from earthly banquets.646

It will be difficult for the slave to have compassion for Dives. In fact, this reversal may comfort her. Lazarus not only seen but honored, no longer hungry but banqueting. Because she relates to Lazarus in some senses, this would be a very powerful scene for her. No doubt she would remember Jesus’ earlier command to invite the poor, crippled, lame, and blind (14:13) to their banquets (δοχὴν) with no reciprocal action expected. Could she, through Jesus’ teachings and fulfillment of the Jewish Law, also take an honored place at a postmortem banquet?

643 Wolter, Luke, 2:284-85 helpfully delineates audiences here. Similarly, Eckey, Lukasevangelium 2:726: “The reader remembers that listening to the risen Christ is closely connected to listening to the testimony of the law and the prophets” (Der Leser denkt daran, daß das Hören auf den auferstandenen Christus eng mit dem Hören auf das Zeugnis des Gesetzes und der Propheten verbunden ist).” Eckey refers to the Emmaus road incident here, but his concern is with the reader’s understanding of Jesus and the OT. 644 Wiefel, Lukas, 300. 645 Noted in Plummer, Luke, 395; Somov, Afterlife, 216 but not in Nolland, Wolter, Parsons. 646 Lehtipuu, Afterlife, 214-220. Conclusion on 294: “The concept ‘Abraham’s bosom’ … is an image implying Lazarus’ intimate relationship with the patriarch while enjoying an otherworldly feast.” 183

If Luke did not consistently and explicitly point out Jewish wealth ethics leading up to this parable, the slave probably would not know how listening to Moses and the prophets will help Dives’ brothers. It would not matter much if she could recall specific prophets mentioned like Elisha (4:27); she could grasp Abraham’s point from Luke’s full quotation of the prophet Isaiah’s scroll in 4:17-19 (βιβλίον τοῦ προφήτου Ἠσαΐου). Still, she may have thought back to Luke’s other uses of προφήτης to describe Jesus (1:76; 4:24; 7:16, 39; 9:8, 19; 13:33; 24:19), Isaiah the prophet’s scroll (3:4; 4:17), Elisha (4:27), John the Baptist (7:26; 20:6), prophets as people (1:69; 6:23; 10:24; 11:47, 49, 50; 13:28, 34; 16:16, 29, 31; 18:31; 24:25), or as writings (16:16, 29, 31; 18:31; 24:27, 44). Though Luke uses προφήτης 29 times in his Gospel, this parable is the first time he refers to a collection of writings as the prophets. Moses is only mentioned in connection to Jewish law in 2:22 (τὸν νόμον Μωϋσέως) and connected with the prophets here and 24:27, 44. The latter two occurrences explain Jesus’ role in fulfilling the law of Moses and the prophets which is probably the point of Abraham’s resurrection statement.647

She would still understand that the thrust of the parable revolved around use of money. Luke presents Jesus’ teachings about use of money as fulfilling Jewish teachings on wealth ethics represented by Moses and the prophets. In other words, she would conclude that Jesus’ care of neighbor stems from and fulfils Jewish teachings from the inclusion of Abraham, Moses, and the prophets in this parable.

5.4.4 Conclusion

Reading this parable through the audience member’s lives has yielded some results. First, we highlighted several lines of thought argued by Edwards, Klein, and others that the audience would not have understood, focusing on the Aramaic backgrounds of Lazarus’ name and the different strains of halakhah. To address the audience’s lack of knowledge on the Jewish law, Luke focuses on how Jesus’ ministry fulfills the Jewish law, incorporating Jewish wealth ethics throughout GLk. In this parable, Moses and the prophets point towards Jesus’ ministry and use of wealth. We then argued that, contra Edwards and Fitzmyer, Luke’s audience would

647 See further in Acts 28:23 where Paul attempts to persuade the Romans about Jesus from Moses and the prophets. 184

understand the Jewish law through the lens of Jesus’ ministry as written in GLk rather than having a very intimate knowledge and judging GLk based on that knowledge.

Second, different ES levels related to the different circumstances within the parable. Though the ES4 member is wealthy by the Christ-group’s standards, and indeed by most of the Mediterranean population, she cannot afford to live as “gloriously” as Dives does. Similarly, the ES6 member is poor in comparison to others in the Christ-group, but she is not as poor as Lazarus. Scholars should identify the ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ in Luke’s audience that this might address.

Third, we highlighted the connection between this and the previous parables. The spatial contrasts of the Clever Steward and this parable highlight the need for neighbor care. The emphasis on using money rather than hoarding it connects this parable with the Clever Steward. The use of money on the destitute links with the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan. The fulfillment of the Jewish law links with the Good Samaritan and the Clever Steward. In sum, the parable of Dives and Lazarus is a summary and culmination of Luke’s wealth ethics, and his explanation of the Jewish law.

Finally, we argued against Bauckham and Metzger that Dives is not condemned for being rich but for not using his wealth on his neighbor. The markers of wealth in the parable were purple clothing, a house gate, and banquets; all these markers occur elsewhere in Luke-Acts in positive contexts. This parable and, in turn, the audience’s reaction focuses on use of wealth.

5.5 Pharisee and Tax Collector (18:9-14)

As argued in 4.5, the tax collector gains wealth in ways that the cult would condemn, but God does not condemn him. This section’s socio-economic reading found that those who are convinced they are righteous because of their use wealth should not despise those who gain their wealth in ways that the cult condemns. The Pharisee thanks God that he is not like thieves (ἅρπαγες, 18:11) who gain wealth in the manner condemned by the cult, surely a swipe at the tax collector which becomes explicit in the climax of the verse (ἢ καὶ ὡς οὗτος ὁ τελώνης). The Pharisee also makes positive claims about his own use of wealth. He explicitly states he gives a tenth of his material goods to God (ἀποδεκατῶ πάντα ὅσα

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κτῶμαι, 18:12), and he also forgoes material goods for cultic reasons (νηστεύω δὶς τοῦ σαββάτου, 18:12).

Because we privilege the narrative framing of this parable, we will focus on the attitude of despising others that the parable seeks to correct (18:9). The key points of the parable focus around the Jewish God, one’s relationship to him, one’s humility before God, and how the human-divine relationship affects relationships within the cult.648 This parable’s ethical force is directed to one’s attitude towards others, one’s self, and God. Such an ethic has the effect of pushing Christ-group members not to look down on tax collectors, for example, whose wealth is gained through illicit means, and reminds members that God values humility and repentance over self-exaltations of one’s own cultic accomplishments. Thus, the tax collector’s justification demonstrates the importance of repentance and humility before God.649

We will focus two aspects stemming from these points. First, we will explore the situation of an outwardly righteous member despising another member in the cultic community. We will also reflect on the poorer member despising the richer member. Second, we will explore the implications of Luke’s audience who are spatially “far away” from Jerusalem and have no Jewish temple to approach. The parable may convey the tax collector’s personal distance from God whilst being near the temple,650 but both Gentiles and Jews in Luke’s audience are now spatially distant (μακρόθεν) from the destroyed Jewish temple.651 An audience’s distance from material assurances that a temple would provide will be an issue we detail below.

5.5.1 Wealthy Macedonian Woman

The wealthy woman is roughly the same ES level as the tax collector, but she may relate to the Pharisee’s desire to use money appropriately. Like the Pharisee, she probably strives to follow teachings about use of money as best she can. As an example of this, she as patron of her Christ-group already commits significant time and money to the cult. She must

648 Contra Edwards, Luke, 505 the parable does not “foreshadow justification by faith.” It is concerned with how the cultic community treats its members and how God views humility. 649 This project does not argue for coherent Lukan wealth ethics. For that, see Hays, Wealth who notes that this parable contains an example of “downward mobility” (165-66), a critique of the “religious elite” (103) and Jesus’ endorsement of an “outgroup” (183). 650 With Wolter, Luke, 2:323, but see Bovon, Luke, 550. 651 See Oakes, “Nine Types” who notes this parable and this point in his introduction. 186

remember that such duties, whilst important for the community, earn her no justification from God if she despises others at the same time.

This may be a shock to her. The previous parables demonstrate the need to fulfill the Jewish law through neighbor care, but here she is warned that despising her neighbors may nullify her benefactions. To go home justified (cf. 18:14), she must not exalt her cultic achievements, particularly ones which cost money, with others’ lack of action. Because the tax collector approached God humbly and did not despise his ‘neighbors,’ he is justified despite his ill-gotten wealth and lack of using wealth cultically like the Pharisee. Because of his self-exaltation and lack of neighbor care, the Pharisee is not justified despite his mode of wealth acquisition and tithing. God will not be more well-disposed towards her because of her benefaction if she despises her neighbors.

As the costliest of her cultic activities, she might think of her benefactions. She probably understands that benefaction is necessary for the Christ-group to continue, but she would certainly understand that one should not use benefaction to one’s own advantage. If she despises others and fails to care for her neighbors, even she will not be justified before God. God is not well-disposed towards her because of money, gifts, or social status.

She may also think about her own mode of wealth acquisition. To become wealthy, she might have gained an inheritance through a wealthy relative, been adopted into a wealthy family, or married into a wealthy family. Since she approaches a local elite status, her marriage or adoption would have involved some relationship with the localized elite. Her wealth would be generated by owning land or buildings which were leased to others. In either case, she would profit from the production of the land or the interest on top of any mortgage if she sold the land.652 Though the tax collector here is not condemned for his ill-gotten wealth, GLk elsewhere condemns sinful modes of gaining wealth. The tax collectors are to collect only what is required (3:13) and soldiers were to refrain from extortion, false accusations, and violence (3:14). The wealthy woman may pause to consider how the tax collector’s ill-gotten wealth is different than her own. Has she used her position to accept payments over what she’s owed? Has she used violence to keep her slaves ‘productive’? In

652 Temin, Market, 139-156. Cf. Esp. Oakman, Peasants; Moxnes, Economy; Goodrich, “Debt.” 187

doing so, she may be challenged to approach God like the tax collector and take some comfort from God’s justification of the tax collector.

She may be relieved to hear that God justifies his followers without sacrifices or temples.653 The Jewish temple is destroyed; her Christ-group has no temple of its own. She might wonder about the mode of propitiation in the parable. Neither character offers sacrifices. Instead, the Pharisee speaks of his on-going economic sacrifices which proves his cultic loyalty. The tax collector simply asks God to be propitiated, and God changes his disposition towards the tax collector. This parable may emphasize both the accessibility to God outside Greco-Roman or Jewish temples and God’s attitude towards those who approach him with humility.

The Pharisee’s attitude may remind her of the older brother in the prodigal son parable.654 In 15:29, the older brother says he has worked like a slave for his father for many years (τοσαῦτα ἔτη δουλεύω) and never ignored his commands (οὐδέποτε ἐντολήν σου παρῆλθον). He complains to his father about the treatment others receive when he has followed his father’s orders flawlessly. Similarly, the Pharisee tells God that he has followed his commands flawlessly in comparison to others. Both characters are confident in their own display of righteousness in relation to the someone who has failed in some way. The prodigal son’s return is like the tax collector’s journey to the temple in at least four different ways: (1) both characters admit violating cultic norms in some way; (2) both characters return to face the parties they offended, (3) both characters are accepted by the offended parties, (4) and both characters have someone near them that criticize their behaviors. Of these, the repentance of each character seems to be the key point shared between the parables. If she thinks of this comparison, she might think of her own behaviors in relation to the Christ- Group. Would she celebrate the tax collector’s return? Would she fund a banquet celebrating a tax collector?

She likely connects God’s behavior towards sinners in this parable to Jesus’ active associations with sinners throughout GLk.655 Not only is this sinful tax collector justified, but his

653 Luke will reinforce this point in Paul’s speech to the Athenians in which Paul describes the Jewish God as one who does not live in man-made temples (κύριος οὐκ ἐν χειροποιήτοις ναοῖς κατοικεῖ, Acts 17:24). 654 With Wolter, Luke, 2:323. 655 So Nolland, Luke, 2:878; Green, Luke, 649. Cf. Klein, Lukasevangelium, 583. 188

repentance is worth celebrating (15:7, 10). She should have table fellowship with him (5:30) and admit the repentant sinner into the ekklesia (5:32). She is reminded that this character is both a tax collector and a sinner; a character that summarizes Jesus’ reputation as “a friend of tax collectors and sinners (φίλος τελωνῶν καὶ ἁμαρτωλῶν, 7:34).656 She too must act as a φίλος.657

Once again, some regular comments would not make sense to her. She does not know the layout of the Jewish temple except from Luke’s own descriptions (1:9, 21, 22; 23:45). It is doubtful that she knew of the temple’s court of the Gentiles658 or the exact time of daily prayers.659 She does not know any parallels to the Pharisee’s prayer; she cannot measure the prayer against other Jewish traditions which may have existed.660 It is doubtful whether she understood that the Pharisee’s demands were “beyond the demand of the Torah.”661 She may know of the fasting traditions through the already circulating Didache (8:1) but not through the later rabbinic traditions.662 These discussions focus on an original parable told to a historical audience behind the text. As such, they do not shed light on how the Macedonian woman might understand this parable.

5.5.2 Middling Ephesian Artisan

On a socio-economic level, the artisan may relate to the ES5 Pharisee. He might feel his use of money is like the Pharisee’s in the parable. The Pharisee dedicates a portion of his income

656 With Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 2:759. 657 She may think of those who approach provincial elite status that “do not” use money like her or those below her in ES level who “cannot” use money as she does. Because both ἐξουθενοῦντας and δίκ- root word groups occur in both 1 Cor 6 and Luke 18, see scholarship on litigation, elites, jockeying for honor, and Christ- groups in J. Chow, Patronage and Power (JSNTSup 75; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992), 124-26; Clarke, Leadership; B. Winter, “Civil Litigation in Secular Corinth and the Church: The Forensic Background to 1 Corinthians 6.1–8,” in Understanding Paul’s Ethics, ed. B. Rosner (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 85-103. 658 Mentioned in Str-B 2:246 (Courts of Women and of Israel); Eckey, Lukasevangelium, 2:72; Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1186; Bock, Luke, 2:1464; Scott, Hear, 96; Parsons, Luke, 267, “audience is perhaps to imagine him standing on the periphery of the Court of Israel.” Plummer, Luke, 418: “we need not suppose that he remained in the Court of the Gentiles…” 659 Bailey, Peasant, 153; Wiefel, Lukas, 317; Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1186; Klein, Lukasevangelium, 584; Edwards, Luke, 503. Luke assumes his audience does not know this information when he explains the hour of prayer in Acts 3:1 (ἐπὶ τὴν ὥραν τῆς προσευχῆς τὴν ἐνάτη). 660 Parallels cited in Str-B 2:243-46; Jeremias, Parables, 140; Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1184-85; Bailey, Peasant, 150-52; Bovon, Luke, 2:547, Klein, Lukasevangelium, 584; Levine and Witherington, Luke, 492. 661 Wolter, Luke, 2:323. 662 E.g., b. Ta’an. 12a. Cited in Str-B 2:243; Fitzmyer, Luke 2:1187; Edwards, Luke, 504. Bovon, Luke, 2:548 concludes from this passage fasting twice a week was normal for first-century Jews. Plummer, Luke, 417- 18 argues the opposite. 189

for the cult by tithing and purposefully goes without material needs for the cult during fasting. As host of a Christ-group, the artisan uses his domestic space, time, and money for God, which would come with some monetary sacrifices on his part. The artisan may feel tempted to despise those in his Christ-group who do not contribute as much. He is reminded that no amount of righteous use of wealth will justify him if he despises others in the Christ- group.

The artisan might be anxious about his status before God. He may have had previous cultic activity that focused on his present life, and the material gifts to the gods assured him of the gods’ good graces. If he had a cultic allegiance to Artemis Ephesia, he might have used his wealth to help his child safely reach adulthood.663 She is the goddess of his city, and his artisan association may have Artemis as its patron god. If so, many facets of his life would involve the goddess at some level. If the artisan said a similar prayer to Luke’s God, would his prayer invoke Artemis’ wrath? What assurance does the artisan have of God’s justification towards him? Will God’s justification protect him from other gods? If his life is inseparable from Artemis, can he still be justified?664

To push this point a bit further, we can reflect on the larger cultic issues at stake. The tax collector is self-admittedly in danger of God’s wrath.665 The artisan’s fear of divine wrath is addressed in the parable: God’s disposition towards the tax collector changed upon the tax collector’s humility before God and not through propitious action. In context of the parable, the cultic actions which may normally cause a favorable disposition in a deity result in humiliation before God. If he follows the example of the tax collector, the artisan, therefore, may seek some comfort, knowing that God will hear his prayers.

Though Luke has a positive view of tax collectors, the artisan along with the other audience members may not appreciate the model of a justified tax collector that Luke presents. Here some typical comments by commentators ring true. In this parable, the tax collector is

663 Artemis was a guardian of life transitions, particularly for women and children. See C. Sourvinou- Inwood, “Artemis” OCD 176 “most crucially their transformation from parthenos (virgin) to (fully acculturated and fully ‘tamed’) woman (gynē), and over childbirth and kourotrophein (the rearing of children).” Transliteration and parenthetical translations retained. 664 This is a particularly salient point if the artisan was one of the God-fearers who were polytheistic patrons of synagogues, Christ-groups, and other cultic groups discussed in section 3.2. 665 With Wolter, Luke, 2:324-35. 190

“viewed, however paradoxically, as the positive model.”666 But some other comments may need some nuancing. Even if Luke’s “authorial audience… is already predisposed to view… the tax collector [as] positive,” the artisan’s negative view of tax collectors in his own life would not be mitigated by this text.667 GLk challenges the artisan to accept tax collectors as a legitimate part of the Christ-group and, perhaps most surprisingly, to model his economic and cultic behavior after a tax collector.

The artisan may wonder about his own mode of gaining money. As detailed in 3.2, the artisan owned 1-2 slaves to assist in creating products to be sold. Like the wealthy woman, he may consider his own treatment of his slaves. Has he used violence against them? Has he taken money from their peculium like some slaveowners? Does he despise his slaves who, if the artisan is a Christ-group host, are members of the Christ-group? Like the tax collector, the artisan will need to approach God and his Christ-group members differently. The artisan too can be justified by God.

5.5.3 Poor Enslaved Corinthian

The slave would have some difficulty relating to either character in socio-economic terms. The tax collector has significant income, and the Pharisee chooses to go without food. Both characters seem to be in control of their own bodies in that they can go to the temple during the working day. From a socio-economic perspective, the slave cannot see daily life reflected in either character.

She does, however, relate to their cultic desires to appease a deity. In the past, the slave may have used what little money to appease Aphrodite, protector of lower ES women. She may have brought what little propitious offerings she had to the Corinthian temple, said a prayer, and departed hoping Aphrodite had mercy on her. From her point of view, both characters fail. The tax collector’s lack of an offering makes little sense to her. If she had the money, she certainly would have presented more offerings to guarantee Aphrodite’s happiness! The

666 Green, Luke, 645. Cf. Marshall, Luke, 677; Nolland, Luke, 2:874-75, 878-79; Bock, Luke, 2:1461. 667 Contra Parsons, Luke, 265. Cf. Forbes, God, 213. 191

Pharisee’s cultic actions seem right to her, but his approach to the deity is wrong.668 Regardless, she relates to their journey to the temple to pray and receive mercy from a deity.

Like the artisan, she may struggle with the lack of cultic materiality in the parable. To seek Aphrodite’s protection for her physical and sexual well-being, the slave would deposit propitious cakes and loose change in Aphrodite’s temple to demonstrate loyalty to Aphrodite. These cakes and coins gave materiality to her hope for deliverance. The Pharisee offers a somewhat familiar materiality by marking an amount of one’s possessions for a deity and going without material goods for a period. His economic sacrifices—both of going without and giving—act as evidence for God’s favorable disposition towards him. And yet, God does not react to material offerings but to a request for mercy. The slave will have to maintain faith in God’s favor without materiality.

On the other hand, she may also find a lack of materiality comforting. She only has small amounts of money, food, and other material goods that can be used for the cult. Thus, the tax collector’s lack of a sacrifice may become a comfort to her as she struggles to scrape money together for the Christ-group. She is not to be despised because she cannot give as others can give.

What assurance does she have that she, too, could go home justified? As with the artisan and the prominent woman, the slave may find comfort in several aspects of the parable: the spatial distance from the temple, the non-cultic identification of ‘tax collector’ rather than the cultic ‘Pharisee’, and the justification of a distant sinner. According to this parable, she can be justified from afar, and she is just as important to God as the more visibly ‘just’ people in her Christ-group. When she is forced to give thanks to her owner’s deities, she can take some heart that her humility before God as a self-identified sinner can cause God to be well- disposed towards her.

At this point, she should not be surprised that the parable portrays the wealthier character as the exemplar. Still, it is difficult for her to have sympathy for the wealthier tax collector. He has enough money and freedom to perform all the actions the Pharisee mentions, but he has

668 With F. Downing, “The Ambiguity of the ‘Pharisee and the Tax Collector’ (Luke 18:9-14) in the Greco-Roman World of Late Antiquity” CBQ 45 (1992): 80-99. 192

seemingly failed to do so. She risks bodily harm or other punishments to join and participate in the Christ-group. Her sacrifices may seem to her greater than the tax collector in the parable, especially her economic sacrifices given to the cult. If she does have some confidence in her own justification, the parable pushes her to not despise these wealthy members too. The wealthy patrons must accept socio-economic ‘outcasts,’ but the outcasts must also accept these patrons as legitimate Christ-group members.

And yet she may relate to the tax collector’s illicit mode of earning of money. It was not uncommon for domestic slaves to be leased out or prostituted for money.669 If she was rented out, she may have kept tips from her encounters. She does not have a choice in how she has gained this money, but she still gained money in ways that the cult condemned. Although she does not relate to socio-economic status of the tax collector nor the choice of gaining money unjustly, she can relate to the possession of condemned currency. Perhaps this parable would bring some comfort to her: she can still be justified despite her mode of gaining unjust wealth if she follows the example of the tax collector.

5.5.4 Conclusion

This section explored how characters and use of spatial descriptions applied to an expected audience more directly than a historical audience. First, the spatial distance from the temple describes the tax collector’s distance from God which the audience may associate with their own distance from the Jewish temple. Second, the exemplary character’s cult or ethnicity were not identifiable like the Samaritan or Pharisee. This ambiguity may allow Luke’s audience to see themselves in the tax collector’s narrative situation. The justified distant sinner translated well to Christ-group in Corinth, Thessaloniki, or Ephesus, distant from Jerusalem and the former temple. Third, the tax collector’s justification highlighted the accessibility of God apart from temples and sacrifices which also translated well to the situation of Luke’s audience.

669 See Glancy, Slavery, 54-57 on legal ramifications of prostituting one’s slave. 193

Our analysis of this parable sought to demonstrate the value of a socio-economic reading of a less obviously economic parable which is usually interpreted theologically.670 Several results were found. First, attitudes surrounding use of wealth for the cult were explored. The parable drew this out by having the less wealthy member gloat about his economic and cultic activities in contrast to the wealthier cult member. The higher ES members are warned not to despise the lower ES members who cannot use their wealth on cultic activities, just as the lower ES members are warned not to despise the wealthier members for not giving enough to the cult. The parable warned members in each ES level about their attitudes towards their use of wealth. This focus balances Parsons and Forces among other commentators who focus on the socio-cultic status of the tax collector as ‘despised’ within the cult or ‘positive’ within GLk.

Second, Luke used the lens of using money to discuss social standings within the cult and before God. The wealthier character was despised; the more obviously righteous member was not justified. The tax collector’s illicit money did not keep him separate from God or the cult. He was justified rather than the lower ES level member. In Luke’s audience, this played out through the higher ES members despising lower ES members for not contributing enough to the Christ-group or violent treatment of their slaves or others to gain income. The lower ES members were to accept the wealthier Christ-group members. Whilst still retaining some hierarchy, the parable pushes for a mutual acceptance in a Christ-group that requires actions from all members. Those who cannot use their money on the cult are not to be despised, but neither are those repentant members who gained their wealth through illicit means.

Third, the lack of materiality in the parable caused mixed reactions in Luke’s audience. On the one hand, the lack of materiality takes economic pressure off those who cannot afford material goods for the cult. On the other hand, lack of direct evidence that God will hear prayers or requests without material gifts or assurances may cause doubt or anxiety. In sum, the method opened socio-economic interpretative possibilities from the implicit socio- economic markers in the text rooted in the audience members’ lives.

670 E.g., Bock, Luke, 2:1461, “Jesus speaks against religious snobbery...” Cf. Nolland, Luke, 2:879. Bovon, Luke, 2:550-51 abstractly connects the tax collector to a house church but does not flesh out what ‘despising’ behaviors might occur there. 194

Chapter 6: Summary and Conclusion

The present study has explored how a first-century Christ-group of varied socio-economic statuses would understand five parables in GLk. It argued that previous scholars have built the wrong type of lenses to analyze socio-economic data. To move away from the previous focus on elite literary sources, sectarian conflict and class analysis, socio-economic profiling was introduced as an improved methodology to gauge markers of socio-economic status. By analyzing behaviors and possessions as socio-economic markers, the methodology used in this study also corrected previous scholarship’s tendency to limit analysis to GLk’s lexis of rich and poor. Contrary to the common understanding of GLk wherein the rich and poor are monolithic entities to be condemned or praised respectively, this study suggests that GLk contains positive wealthy characters and that the poorer characters are not always exemplary.

6.1 Summary of Study

Chapters 1 described how this project sought to improve on previous scholarship by adjusting and reconfiguring narratological and socio-economic methodologies used in NT research. In the history of scholarship, three categories were chosen to emphasize this project’s contributions. In the first category, J. Jeremias and D. Oakman represented scholarship that situates socio-economic analysis to the situation of the historical Jesus. The historical-critical methodology of Jeremias was critiqued for its overreliance on elite literary sources, omission of key scholarship on daily life and Greco-Roman economics, and miscalculation of items stemming from these issues. Oakman’s social-scientific lens was critiqued for using modern concepts of peasantry which do not apply directly to the first- century, using a class analysis when ancient classes did not exist, and limiting his dataset to conflicts in the text. In the second category, L. Portefaix and P. Esler represented scholarship that interprets socio-economic data in light of Luke’s audience. Portefaix constructed first- century Philippian women through whom the general themes in Luke-Acts and Philippians were read, but she relied on class analysis whilst omitting passages about use of money. Esler’s method utilized economic lexemes to describe socio-economic statuses, but these lexemes are not helpful indicators of economic status. Esler’s focus on the categories of the ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ omitted much of Luke’s audience, and the data in Luke-Acts was used to describe a possible community to whom GLk is addressed, conflating the intended and expected

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audiences. In the third category, C. Hays and D. Balch represented scholarship that analyzes the ethics of socio-economic data found in GLk. Hays’ methodology helpfully demonstrated that passages in Luke-Acts can be analyzed for wealth ethics. Hays, however, relied heavily on elite literature, miscalculated the value of some items, and used a mostly literary analysis. D. Balch argued that Luke’s wealth ethics reinforces the Greco-Roman wealth ethics familiar to Luke’s audience, but Balch’s use of elite sources skewed his results.

Three gaps were identified from these categories. First, the methodologies that privilege the wrong type of data like elite literary evidence, sectarian conflict, and class analysis were addressed by privileging non-elite evidence in urban centers in the Greek East, using socio- economic scaling in exegesis, and assigning ES levels to characters and audience that reflects first-century life. Second, methodologies that focus too closely on lexical data to gauge socio- economic status were addressed by using behaviors and possessions to calculate socio- economic status. The previous calculations of the buying power of denarii, cost of food, oil, and clothing were also updated based on the revised method. Third, the conflation between the historical references in GLk, the narrative audience within GLk, and the audience hearing GLk was addressed by separating audiences in our methodology.

The methodology in chapter 2 was constructed both from recent advances made by Longenecker’s ES which delineate between 7 different statuses and from Oakes’ argument that first-century sources speak of behaviors and possessions rather than subsistence levels. The concept of an expected audience in the Greek East was introduced to view findings from differentiated perspectives beyond the text. This category worked from the socio-economic contexts in the first-century rather than applying data in GLk to those contexts. The cities of Ephesus, Corinth, and Thessaloniki were selected as likely places where expected audience members would hold Christ-group meetings in the first-century. The material evidence found in these urban centers, along with our audience’s ES, could also be found in other Greco-Roman cities linked to early Christ-group meetings. Thus, this project utilized the type of evidence easily replicated within other urban centers in which other Christ-group members with similar lives could react in a similar fashion. Finally, the on-going rabbinic debates were shown to have little value for understanding how an audience in the Greek East would understand GLk’s parables.

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In chapter 3, three expected audience members of different ES were constructed to maximize exegetical results: the ES4 Macedonian woman, the ES5 Ephesian artisan, and the ES6 Corinthian slave. Using different ES levels produced more interpretative possibilities and rooted exegesis in lived experience. Using material inscriptions with the title “first among women” and Acts 16 as evidence, we found that the ES4 member had a moderate to substantial surplus, hosted a Christ-group, and acted as its benefactor. Second, the Ephesian artisan was constructed from the material evidence, Acts 19, and Prisca, Aquilla, and Paul as artisans. The ES5 artisan fit into the ‘middling’ category with a moderate surplus and could have also hosted a Christ-group. Finally, the ES6 status domestic slave was constructed from portrayal of slaves in Luke-Acts and additional material evidence. The ES6 member gave some balance towards the lower ES members present in the first-century Christ-groups, and the member’s slave status provided another social lens for our analysis. These characters represented a selection of ES levels of the types of members in GLk’s expected audience and enabled this project to interpret the parables in the lived experience of different ES levels.

Chapter 4 analyzed socio-economic markers within five parables. A key contribution of this section in addition to the calculation of these markers was that GLk contains positive characters with means and negative characters with less means. The project also found that the desire to inherit eternal life would lead the audience to fulfill the Jewish law, according to GLk, through use of wealth. In the parable of the Good Samaritan, the socio-economic markers of owning a donkey, stopping at an inn, and leaving an inn quickly portrayed an ES5 status character. Contra Jeremias and Oakman, an analysis of these markers found that the Samaritan’s payment to the innkeeper was not enough to pay for 2 weeks accommodation. His promise to repay additional costs upon his return stemmed from a lack of funds. Thus, the Samaritan was a positive ‘middling’ status exemplar with some means. The clever steward mirrored an elite but was an ES4 dispensator. The steward helps remit the debt of characters who, contra Oakman and Bailey, are not tenant farmers but wealthy merchants. He was a parabolic exemplar, because he used money as a tool to gain friends. The prodigal son’s large inheritance and his father’s estate demonstrated the family’s ES3+ status. The son’s στολὴ and ὑποδήματα were suitable attire for a banquet rather than the cultic implications of priestly robes or the incorrect assertation that only slaves wore sandals. The prodigal’s father was an example of using wealth lavishly to celebrate a returned cult

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member. Dives’ purple clothing and daily banquets portrayed him as an ES3+ status character, but these markers were not themselves negative; Luke elsewhere includes positive characters associated with purple, banquets, and gates. Thus, Dives’ use of wealth was the key issue in this parable. Dives was the first character in which the exemplar is not ES5 or above. In the Tax Collector and the Pharisee, scholarship on tax collectors was updated in light of the audience’s experiences with tax collection. The tax collector was ES4b with a complex social situation of hierarchy and ties to the local elite who mostly despised tax collectors. Contrary to previous scholarship that saw the Pharisees as a part of the ‘ruling classes,’ this Pharisee was probably no higher than an ES5. The wealthier character was again the exemplar in this parable, and more wealthy characters than poorer characters in these parables were positive exemplars. These findings pushed against scholarship that finds the ‘rich’ as largely negative and the ‘poor’ as mostly positive in GLk.

Chapter 5 placed the socio-economic markers of the parables for chapter 4 in the context of our constructed audience members from chapter 3. This chapter explored how a first-century Christ-group might understand a socio-economic reading of the text. A key finding of this chapter was that each audience member was responsible for using their wealth in ways that fulfill the Jewish law.

In the parable of the Good Samaritan, each social context yielded different contextual interpretations of πλησίον; the more money one had, the larger the potential number of ‘neighbors’ one has. The promise of an afterlife as the telos of neighbor-care resonated with the lower ES members because of discomfort or oppression in their lives. Each member of the Christ-group was responsible for neighbor-care; contrary to Esler, this may create more pressure for the poorer members with smaller amounts of surplus wealth than the higher ES members. Finally, the Samaritan’s middling status was ‘rich’ to some and ‘poor’ to others in the Christ-group. Considering differing ES in the expected audience members resolved the inherit subjectivity of economic lexemes with specific contextualized situations.

In the parable of the Prodigal Son, there were different thrusts of the parable’s socio- economic teachings within different ES levels. A key addition to scholarship derived in this section pushed the typical interpretation of the parable from the narrative audience into the expected audience. In the context of a Christ-group, the higher ES members were encouraged

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to elevate the lower ES members within the group without expecting reciprocal action. The father’s repudiation of the elder son emphasized the need to celebrate the return of a sinner and encouraged the lower ES members to see themselves as worthy of celebrating like the prodigal son.

The parable of the Clever Steward had the most exegetical punch for those in higher ES levels. Money was portrayed as a tool to be used by others, removing power from those with money. This created vulnerability for the wealthiest members and gave agency to the poorest members. The idea of making ‘friends’ with unrighteous wealth in different social contexts was explored. Contra Hays, ‘friends’ likely referred to members or potential members of the Christ-group. Using money to make friends overlapped somewhat with the concept of neighbor-care: both concepts focus attention towards the Christ-group. The audience was urged to use money on others rather than hoard it.

The parable of Dives and Lazarus was included to demonstrate the viability of this project’s methodology on parables that are traditionally seen as containing socio-economic data and wealth ethics. The results saw the culmination of the socio-economic teachings in the previous parables. Though Dives and Lazarus are ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ respectively, the characters did not reflect lives of our constructed audience members; this demonstrated the need for our methodology to distinguish between ES levels. Dives’ negative example demonstrated improper care of neighbor and use of wealth and thus a failure to fulfill of the Jewish law. GLk explained for a Gentile audience that Jesus’ ministry and following his teachings will fulfill the Jewish law. In sum, an analysis of Dives and Lazarus solidified previous findings that Lukan wealth ethics leads to the fulfillment of Jewish law and added nuance to scholarly readings that analyze the parable largely by in terms of ‘rich’ and ‘poor.’

Finally, this chapter analyzed the tax collector and the Pharisee to demonstrate the value of socio-economic analysis on parables typically interpreted theologically. This section demonstrated that using money was used as a lens to demonstrate standing in the Christ- group and before God. The ES4b tax collector’s ill-gotten money did not keep him from being justified; the more apparently righteous ES5 Pharisee was not justified. Applied to the Christ-group, the higher ES Christ-group members should not despise those who cannot use their wealth on cultic activities, and the lower ES members should not despise the wealthier

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members for not giving enough to the cult. The parable encouraged mutual acceptance in the Christ-group and required action from all members. In addition, we found the lack of materiality in the parable may bring comfort to some poorer members or cause anxiety to some members of the Christ-group who are used to material assurances from previous deities. Members of the Christ-group were not to despise other members even if they, like the tax collector, gain wealth illicitly.

6.2 Future Avenues of Research

This project challenges the way in which Lukan scholarship approaches socio-economic data. It attempts to demonstrate that sections of GLk which do not have economic lexemes can be analyzed through socio-economic profiling. Calculating calories still contains value, but this project demonstrates that calculating behaviors and possessions more directly interacts with the text of GLk and better indicates the economic status of characters in the text. Further, looking at these calculations from the perspective of different audience members shed light on different assumptions scholarship carries into exegesis. How one uses money depends entirely on how much money one has, and how much freedom one has to spend it. This payoff arises from our methodology which bypasses the more abstract intended or historical audience in favor of a more concrete expected audience.

Even as this project contributed to Lukan and socio-economic research, it necessarily contains some limitations that might be addressed in future research. Since this project discovered that Luke’s audience knew little about rabbinic traditions interpreting the Torah, an avenue of potential research might analyze the relationship between Luke-Acts and the Torah from the perspective of readers who are unfamiliar with the debates Luke-Acts may introduce to its audience. If the expected audience’s framework does not include rabbinic debates, what other potential frameworks might an audience use to understand the presentation of the Jewish wealth ethics in GLk?

This project demonstrated the viability of analyzing socio-economic data in texts that do not have economic lexemes and improved understanding of the way in which different ES levels are portrayed in GLk. Future research might apply this method to other synoptic gospels to determine if the economic data in GLk is unique when compared to the other synoptics. In

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other words, how much unity or diversity of socio-economic data, wealth ethics, or portrayal of ES levels might be found in the synoptic gospels? This project also demonstrates the promise of applying this method to Acts to explore the socio-economic data which is presented without economic lexemes. What socio-economic markers might the behaviors and possessions of different characters in Acts portray and how might that relate to the wealth ethics in Acts? Along these same lines, applying this method to Acts 15 and Gal 2 in terms of caring for the poor may prove fruitful in a comparative analysis of Paul and Luke with particular regard to wealth ethics.

The issue of gender as presented in this project sought to determine reactions and interactions within a Christ-group from male and female members, largely focusing on ES levels. Future research might pursue an analysis of the socio-economic markers of daily life analyzed in this project through a variety of feminist or masculinist lenses. One might utilize a type of intersectional theory to consider if some markers calculated in this project are themselves gendered and how that might reverberate alongside the economic implications inferred in the analysis above.

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