WE know that it was the custom of young men of Tarsus to leave ‘in order to complete their education abroad’,1 but why should Paul have thought it either necessary or appropriate to do so? One can only speculate, but it seems probable that a number of factors were operative. For many the study of rhetoric quickly palled. Rhetorical exercises were incredibly artificial and rules multiplied as subdivisions increased.2 Only those fiercely ambitious for a place in public life had any incentive to persevere. As a Jew, however, Paul’s chances of advancement were limited. The alternative was to plunge himself into the study of his own Jewish tradition, but where? Tarsus had already given him what it could. Babylonia or Alexandria may have flitted across his mind, but neither could compete with Jerusalem, with which all Diaspora Jews were familiar through the synagogue readings, and towards which their minds were directed by precept and their hearts warmed by pilgrimage accounts.3 It is easy to envisage an enthusiastic young man with a Greek education from a Romanized family desiring to discover for himself the cradle of his religion.
Since the study of rhetoric did not normally last beyond four years, the above line of argument would suggest that Paul left for Jerusalem about the age of 20,4 i.e. around AD 15.5 Since his conversion is to be dated in AD 33,6 this means that he lived in Jerusalem for over fifteen years before becoming a Christian. In any person’s life the years between 20 and 35 are a crucial period when reality puts its grip on ambition, and when the speculations and dreams of youth solidify and settle into the mature perspective of adulthood.
Paul, as we shall see, recognized the importance of this period of his life, but he does not tell us where it was lived. For that information we are indebted to Luke who refers to pre-Christian activity of Paul in Jerusalem (Acts 8: 1, 3; 9: 1–2) and makes him confess that he was ‘brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel’ (Acts 22: 3; cf. 26: 4). Luke’s concern to bind Paul as closely as possible to Jerusalem has already been mentioned, and here it forces us to ask whether he is inventing a background for the Apostle or merely emphasizing a fact.
We have already noted John Knox’s methodological principle that in cases of conflict priority must be given to the letters against the Acts of the Apostles.7 Thus, because Damascus is the earliest point in Paul’s career mentioned by the letters, Knox insinuates that Paul, perhaps for business reasons, moved directly from Tarsus to Damascus.8 To maintain this position he has to demolish Luke’s thesis that Paul had previously been a student in Jerusalem. His weapons are three points in the letters.9
First, Knox points out, even though Paul had to defend the authenticity and orthodoxy of his Judaism on more than one occasion, he never claims Gamaliel as his teacher. The reason for this silence, of course, is Paul’s awareness that the well-taught may be traitors and sinners. The most impeccable pedigree, academic or otherwise, does not protect against base behaviour. The only convincing proof of Paul’s Jewishness was the one he provided, namely, the zeal with which he observed the commandments, ‘as to righteousness under the Law blameless’ (Phil. 3: 6; cf. Gal. 1: 14).
The second argument is no more convincing. Had Paul lived in Jerusalem, Knox claims, he would have spoken of ‘returning’ there in Galatians 1: 18, as he does in the case of Damascus in the previous verse. The answer to this is simple. Even though Luke makes Jerusalem Paul’s home, he only once speaks of him ‘returning’ there10 (Acts 22: 17); normally he employs ‘going up’,11 which is precisely the phraseology Paul himself uses in both Galatians 1: 18 and 2: 1. In both cases we have to do with stereotypical language consecrated by Jewish usage,12 which tells us more about Paul’s formation than his domicile. Moreover, once Paul had become convinced of his vocation as apostle to the Gentiles, a sojourn in any Jewish city could only be a visit.
For his third argument Knox invokes Galatians 1: 22, ‘I remained personally unknown to the churches of Christ in Judaea’13 to demonstrate that Paul’s persecuting activity did not take place in Judaea.14 Rom. 15: 31 precludes an answer based on a distinction between Judaea and Jerusalem, as if Paul had operated only in the Holy City, and not in the countryside. The true response emerges from Paul’s insistence that on his first visit to Jerusalem after his conversion he met only Cephas and James. If he ‘saw none of the other apostles’ (Gal. 1: 19), it is highly unlikely that he made the acquaintance of any other members of the church. Galatians 1: 22 implies nothing more; it merely serves as the introduction to what the churches of Judaea heard about their converted persecutor.15 Obviously Paul had no time for the dramatic gesture of a public apology. He always had difficulty in admitting a mistake (e.g. 2 Cor. 11: 7–11), and it is very much in keeping with his character that he should be totally focused on the future, the mission in Syria and Cilicia (Gal. 1: 21).
Thus Knox’s attempt to find elements in the letters which contradict Luke cannot be considered successful. The next step is to question whether Knox is correct in asserting that as far as the letters are concerned Paul’s career begins in Damascus. In the process we shall also look for data which might confirm Acts, a type of control which Knox did not employ.
Paul asserts that prior to his conversion he had been ‘with respect to the Law a Pharisee’ (Phil. 3: 5). In other words, his obedience to the Law was that which characterized the Pharisees. Who were they? Where were they based?
In order to answer this question we can draw on only two sources, Josephus, the first-century Jewish historian who claims that he himself was a Pharisee (Life 12), and the first-century traditions incorporated into later rabbinic compilations. The former shows the Pharisees from without and the latter from within. To extract historically valid information from either is a complex and difficult task.16
Josephus mentions the Pharisees in three works, The Jewish War (published AD 75–79), The Antiquities of the Jews (published AD 93–94), and the Life (published c. AD 95). Not only are these accounts difficult to reconcile with one another, but some details are implausible, and the most extensive treatment is highly tendentious. From a careful analysis, however, the Pharisees emerge as a political interest group deeply embroiled in the conflicts of the Hasmonean period, and whose involvement in public life continued into the first century AD but to a markedly lesser degree.17
From the mass of rabbinic traditions, J. Neusner confesses himself unable to extract very much regarding the history of the Pharisees prior to the destruction of the temple in AD 70. They were ‘primarily a society for table-fellowship, the high point of their life as a group’.18 This is a deduction from the fact that ‘approximately 67% of all legal pericopae deal with dietary laws: ritual purity for meals and agricultural rules governing the fitness of food for Pharisaic consumption. Observance of Sabbaths and festivals is a distant third.’19 Only after the fall of Jerusalem were the Pharisees forced to deal with a much wider range of problems. Neusner would see their relative withdrawal from the political arena as due to the influence of a contemporary of Herod the Great (37–34 BC), namely, Hillel the Elder, whose dominant role in the reformed party is thereby explained.20 It would be highly unusual, however, for a group which believed in the divinely sanctioned importance of their way of life not to wish to transform the society of which they were a part.21 The tactical abandonment of any aspirations to imposition of their view via political control is unlikely to have affected their long-term strategy.
A perfect illustration of their revised approach is the career of Gamaliel I (or the Elder). He was the successor of Hillel (m. Aboth 1. 18); the claim of later texts that he was also his son or grandson is rightly viewed with scepticism.22 His dates cannot be established with any certitude, but his years of activity are thought to be roughly AD 20–50,23 or more narrowly, but still approximately, AD 30–40.24 Apart from the fact that he had a son and a daughter we know nothing about him personally. Unlike the case of Hillel, there is no tendency to elaborate data about Gamaliel I. In consequence, Neusner is inclined to attach a high degree of authenticity to the legal decisions attributed to him. Neusner moreover points out that they focus on issues other than those central to Pharisaic concerns.25 A specific location is a characteristic of Gamaliel I materials,26 and very often this is the Temple.27 The image that comes across is of a teacher who played an active role in the deliberations of the administration of the Temple,28 which is precisely the portrait painted by Luke, ‘a Pharisee in the council named Gamaliel, a teacher of the Law, held in honour by all the people’ (Acts 5: 34).29 According to the Mishnah, ‘When Rabban Gamaliel the Elder died, the glory of the Torah ceased, and purity and abstinence died’ (m. Sotah 9. 15). Neusner doubts that this was actually said of him in his lifetime,30 but the mere fact of Gamaliel’s appearance in an early third century AD list of rabbinic greats underlines how high his reputation must have been.
The details of Gamaliel’s teaching are not relevant here, apart from his answer to the question: How many Torahs were given to Israel? ‘Rabban Gamaliel said, “Two, one in writing and one orally.’”31 Not only was the written Law binding on the Pharisees but also its traditional understanding and expansion. This is the one point on which the rabbinic traditions and Josephus agree.32 The latter says, ‘The Pharisees have imposed on the people many laws from the tradition of the fathers not written in the Law of Moses.’33
It is at this point that we find confirmation (all the more valuable because it is indirect) of Paul’s assertion that he was a Pharisee. ‘Being extremely zealous for the traditions of my fathers’ (Gal. 1: 14) is precisely the sort of language a Pharisee would use.
Where would it have been possible for Paul to come into contact with Pharisees? Had we only Josephus and the Fourth Gospel the answer would be simple, because both locate the Pharisees exclusively in Jerusalem. According to Saldarini, however, ‘Mark sees them [the Pharisees] as active only in Galilee’,34 and he accepts this portrait as historical because ‘it is very unlikely that the early followers of Jesus would have placed Pharisees in Galilee if their presence there would be manifestly contrary to the first century situation’.35 The cogency of this argument depends on the solidity of the factual base. Regrettably it is non-existent. With the exception of Mark 12: 13 (cf. 11: 15) and 10: 2, not a single Markan story in which the Pharisees figure contains any element which would permit us to identify the location.36 The reader of the gospel is given the impression of a location in Galilee by juxtaposition in some but not all cases; the Galilean location of 2: 16 depends on 2: 13; that of 3: 6 on 3: 7; that of 7: 1 on 6: 53; and that of 8: 11 on 8: 13, which is a redactional introduction to the following story. The evangelist’s mode of composition, which associated stories on grounds other than their locale, did not intend transposition from the original context (in all probability Jerusalem), and it is most unlikely that the audience of the gospel would have understood it in this way. For Diaspora readers it would have been irrelevant, and knowledgeable Palestinians would have subconsciously made the necessary corrections. In their parallels to the instances discussed neither Matthew nor Luke can be considered to have had access to independent historical information. In addition both exhibit a tendency to multiply references to Pharisees as stereotypical opponents of Jesus.37
Luke 13: 31 is an exception to this rule, because the Pharisees give Jesus a friendly warning, ‘Some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here because Herod wants to kill you.”’ The reference to Galilee is unambiguous and integral to the story because only in his own territory did Herod Antipas have the power of life and death. This single witness, however, does not demonstrate a permanent Pharisaic presence in Galilee.38 On the contrary, the Pharisees’ knowledge of the king’s intention would rather suggest that they were on a mission to the court from Jerusalem.39
A rabbinic text has also been interpreted as implying the presence of Pharisees in Galilee and elsewhere, which is important because of Luke’s assertion that Paul’s parents were Pharisees (Acts 23: 6):
The story is told concerning Rabban Gamaliel and [the] Elders, who were sitting on steps on the Temple Mountain, and Yohanan, that scribe, was before them. He said to him, ‘Write:
To our brethren, men of Upper Galilee and men of Lower Galilee. May your peace increase. We inform you that the time of the burning has come, to bring out the tithes from the vats of olives.
And to our brethren, men of the Upper South and men of the Lower South. May your peace increase. We inform you that the time of burning has come, to remove the tithes from the sheaves of wheat.
And to our brothers, men of the Exile of Babylonia and men of the Exile of Medea and the men of the Exile of Greece and the rest of all the Exiles of Israel. May your peace increase. We inform you that the pigeons are tender, and the lambs are young, and the time of spring has not come, and it is good in my view and in the view of my colleagues, and we have added to this year thirty days.’40
The texts of these letters also appear in the Jerusalem Talmud (Maaser Sheni 5. 4 and Sanh. 1. 2) and in the Babylonian Talmud (Sanh. 11b).41 With one exception—the italicized phrase found in both versions in the Jerusalem Talmud is lacking in the Babylonian Talmud—the differences are minor. Neusner accepts the authenticity of these letters because they are evidently those referred to in the phrase ‘our fathers used to write to your fathers’, which concludes the letter of Simeon ben Gamaliel (d. 70) and Yohanan ben Zakkai (d. c. 80) to Upper and Lower Galilee and Upper and Lower South.42 Neusner finds it plausible that ‘brethren’ in the first two letters should mean Pharisees, but rejects the same meaning for the term in the third letter, because there is no confirmatory evidence of Pharisees in the areas mentioned, and the Pharisees had no authority to regulate the calendar.43
Even with Galilee and the South, however, there are problems. Upper Galilee and Lower South are precisely the sort of non-urbanized areas which Pharisees avoided. Moreover, Pharisees were by definition scrupulous about tithing, so why should they have to be reminded? Finally, ‘brethren’ when used in the Simeon and Yohanan letter can only mean Jews in general, because they had not paid their tithes as promptly as Pharisees would.44 Hence, it is best to think of the above letters as having been written at the behest of the Temple authorities, because ‘The Pharisees’ stress on tithing and priestly piety for the laity could have been attractive to the Jerusalem authorities who desired to collect tithes from all Jews in Palestine and who could have met resistance from Jews in Galilee, outside their political control’.45 In this perspective the three letters would have been addressed to all Jews. Only this interpretation brings out the homogeneity of the third letter with the other two.
Individual Pharisees may have gone to Galilee sporadically to check crops which they intended to buy, but there is no evidence of anything remotely resembling a Pharisaic movement in Galilee.46 This makes it even less likely that there was permanent and significant Pharisaic presence in the Diaspora.47 Their ambition to live the Law as perfectly as possible would have been frustrated by a Gentile environment. Neusner’s scepticism has already been noted, and Saldarini’s argument that Paul’s identification of himself to the Philippians as a Pharisee implies that these must have been familiar with Pharisees from personal contact carries no conviction.48 Thus there is no reliable evidence for Pharisees permanently based outside Jerusalem.49 Luke’s claim that Paul was ‘a son of Pharisees’ (Acts 23: 6) must be dismissed as a rhetorical flourish without historical value.50
If Paul joined a Pharisaic group, and there is no reason to doubt his word (Phil. 3: 5), it must have been a personal decision made after his arrival in Jerusalem. Furthermore, if Paul arrived in Jerusalem around AD 15,51 his sojourn in the city would have coincided with that of Gamaliel I, and it is extremely improbable that Paul or any other Pharisee would have escaped his influence. Such confirmation does not necessarily imply that precise historical information stands behind Acts 22: 3. It could be based on a series of deductions parallel to mine. They therefore reinforce one another as independent estimates of historical probability.
In rabbinic tradition devotion to study appears as one of the fundamental characteristics of a Pharisee. The mild Hillel is reported as saying, ‘he who does not learn [the Law] is worthy of death’, whereas the strict Shammai merely counselled, ‘make your [study of the] Law a fixed habit’, and Gamaliel I proffered the practical advice, ‘provide yourself with a teacher and remove yourself from doubt’ (m. Aboth 1.13–16). The authenticity of such statements, of course, cannot be taken for granted; they fit too well with the attitude of rabbinic circles after the destruction of the Temple. This does not mean, however, that the ideal they embody should be dismissed as anachronistic in terms of the first century. What has been said above concerning Jewish education, in particular the citations from Philo and Josephus,52 highlights the continuity into the first century of a venerable tradition of exhortation to study.53 Moreover, if the Pharisees prided themselves on meticulous observance, detailed knowledge of the commandments as articulated in both the written and oral Torah was obviously indispensable.54 Even though Hillel may not have said ‘an ignorant man cannot be saintly’ (m. Aboth 2: 6), the sentiment reflected Pharisaic values at all times.
Understandably, therefore, the Pharisees gathered in groups.55 For those concerned with the ritual purity of food, it simplified life when those of like mind ate together; each was trusted to respect the standards of the other. The consensus of interpretation regarding what is demanded, which this implied, necessitated common study and discussion. The hothouse atmosphere characteristic of such élite groups was intensified by the presence of young men. The dangers must have been as obvious to first-century teachers as they are today. It is not at all surprising that Hillel (or someone equally experienced and perceptive) should have warned,
[1] Do not separate from the community. [2] Do not trust yourself until the day of your death. [3] Do not judge your fellow until you stand in his place. [4] Do not say of a thing which cannot be understood that it will be understood in the end. [5] And do not say, ‘When I have leisure I will study!’ Perhaps you will never have leisure, (m. Aboth 2. 5; trans. Danby adapted)56
At one end of the scale are those who permit themselves to be carried along by the group, who feel sure that a solution to thorny problems will be found—by someone else (4)—because they lack a deep personal interest in study (5). At the other end are those so intensely committed that they become arrogant in judgement (2) and contemptuous of those slower or less insightful (3). These run the risk of developing a superiority complex expressed in leaving the community in search of greater perfection (1). The feverish environment is perfectly evoked by a saying attributed to Simeon the son of Gamaliel,
All my days I have grown up among the Sages and I have found naught better for a person than silence; and not the expounding [of the Law] is the chief thing but the doing [of it]; and he that multiplies words occasions sin.
(m. Aboth 1: 17; trans. Danby)
Viviano’s commentary is perfectly apposite, ‘It breathes a certain weariness with the interminable and excessive wrangling with the overproduction of secondary refinements, which characterized one side of the Sages’ learned activity.’57
It is only against this background that Paul’s description of his youth becomes intelligible, ‘I was advancing in Judaism beyond many Jews of my own age, so extremely zealous was I for the tradition of my fathers’ (Gal. 1: 14). The Pharisaic ring of ‘the tradition of my fathers’ has already been noted.58 The comparison is with Paul’s contemporaries generally and does not define his position with respect to other Pharisees. The combative tone and competitive spirit are equally characteristic of élite groups. Paul was proud to belong to such a minority.
His stress on ‘contemporaries’ is suggestive; he uses the term only here. He claims not an absolute but a relative victory. The simplest explanation of such diffidence is that he was aware of having started late. As a newcomer from the Diaspora he had a lot to make up. What Paul retained from this period is difficult to determine. Not only did it blend with his generalized Jewishness—Palestinian and Hellenistic Judaism had a great deal in common—but it was subsequently absorbed into a radically different pattern of religion when he became a Christian.59 None the less certain details in the letters reflect the training he received at the feet of Gamaliel.60 This is not really surprising because his involvement must have been so single-minded that he became oblivious to everything extraneous.
It is from this perspective that we must deal with an objection. Were Paul in Jerusalem from AD 15 to 33, he would have been in the city when Jesus came on pilgrimage, and when he was crucified there in AD 30.61 Under such circumstances, we are told, he could not avoid encountering Jesus and/or having firsthand knowledge of the crucifixion. The fact that he never even hints at any personal connection,62 we are told, proves either that he was never in Jerusalem before his conversion or arrived there after AD 30.
The weakness of this objection is that it presumes to know what Paul should or should not have written. In addition it overestimates the importance of Jesus during his lifetime. The gospels give the impression that he commanded widespread support at least in Galilee (e.g. John 6: 14–15), but this is contradicted by Herod Antipas’ shift from suspicion deep enough to plot assassination (Luke 13: 31) to total lack of interest (Luke 23: 8–12). He was less paranoid than his father, Herod the Great, but he would never have released Jesus unless he was convinced that the latter was absolutely harmless. The fact that Antipas had John the Baptist imprisoned and executed underlines the difference between the two.63 If Jesus’ impact in Galilee was so minimal, it must have been even less among the general population in Jerusalem. His execution was likely to have been carried out without fanfare by the authorities amidst the indifference of a city preoccupied with preparations for Passover. Even if it were the event of the spring of AD 30, which I very much doubt, there is no guarantee that it would have impinged on the attention of a Paul passionately committed to the study of the Law. Despite the ubiquity of radio, television, and gossip, Hassidic students in Jerusalem today manage to maintain their principle of avoiding knowledge of secular events; it is reported that they were completely unaware of Anwar Sadat’s peace visit to Israel, which brought the whole of Jerusalem into the streets.
When Paul wrote 1 Corinthians he was single. His formulation, however, draws attention to a latent ambiguity, ‘To the unmarried and widowed I say that it is good for them remain as I am’ (1 Cor. 7: 8; cf. 9: 5). Was he a widower or had he never been married? Older commentators assumed the latter option,64 while modern scholars tend towards the former,65 or merely note the problem without committing themselves.66 The situation moreover has been unnecessarily complicated by misuse of data and the introduction of extraneous problems such as rabbinic ordination.67
That Paul had never married cannot be excluded apriori. Jews placed a high value on marriage (Gen. 1: 28; 38: 8–10; Deut. 25: 5–10),68 and texts specify the marriagable age for a man to be between 18 and 20.69 Thus, it is natural to conclude that most Jewish men married young. There were, however, exceptions in both fact and date.70 Some married much later, and some not at all.
The prophet Jeremiah refused to marry as a symbolic gesture (Jer. 16: 1). According to a rabbinic tradition, Simeon ben Azzai (c. AD 110) justified his celibate life-style by the words, ‘My soul is in love with the Torah. The world can be carried on by others.’71 Josephus married at the age of 30, and then only at the behest of Vespasian.72 This would have been ten years too young to meet the ideal of Philo who wrote, ‘The 40th year is the right time for the marriage of the wise man.’73 According to the Testament of the XII Patriarchs, Levi married at 28 and Issachar at 30 or 35.74
At the time of his conversion in AD 33 Paul would have been about 40, certainly in his late thirties. While it is possible that he had either postponed marriage or renounced it completely, this cannot be assumed to be the natural meaning of 1 Corinthians 7: 8. Such decisions were made only by a tiny minority, who certainly were considered abnormal by their contemporaries. Only those bolstered by a high degree of personal security rooted in past achievement, and the sympathetic understanding of friends (e.g. Simeon ben Azzai), could take the risk of flouting public opinion so radically. As a young immigrant from the Diaspora, Paul met none of these conditions. The complacently competitive tone of Galatians 1: 14, on the contrary, betrays the stranger who has successfully integrated into Jewish Jerusalem through perfect conformity to the norm. It is much more probable, therefore, that Paul cheerfully bowed to the expectation that young men should marry in their early twenties.
This is perhaps the best point at which to draw attention to a bizarre tradition concerning Paul found in the Judaeo-Christian Ascension of James,
Paul was a man of Tarsus and indeed a Greek, the son of a Greek mother and a Greek father. Having gone up to Jerusalem and having remained there a long time, he desired to marry a daughter of the (high?) priest and on that account submitted himself as a proselyte for circumcision. When nevertheless he did not obtain the girl, he became furious and began to write against circumcision, the sabbath and the Law.75
Windisch believes that this story has a historical kernel in so far as it provides a plausible motive for Paul’s celibacy.76 In fact its manifest anti-Pauline bias robs it of all historical value.77 Paul is made a gentile, who converts to Judaism for the worst of all reasons, namely, sex, and when frustrated becomes violently anti-Semitic. The crudity of the attack is of a piece with the accumulation of improbabilities. No explanation is offered as to why such a person should have taken up residence in Jerusalem, or how he might have become acquainted with the high priest’s daughter. In consequence, since well-known facts about Paul are deliberately falsified, there is no reason to suppose that the author had any independent knowledge of Paul’s marital status. On the contrary, the tenor of the rest of the account would suggest that his celibacy was also fabricated as a criticism.
It is most probable, therefore, that Paul had a wife. Is she ever mentioned? According to Eusebius, Clement of Alexandria claimed that she is alluded to in Philippians 4: 3,
Peter and Philip had families, and Philip gave his daughters in marriage, while Paul himself does not hesitate in one of his epistles to address his yoke-fellow, whom he did not take round with him for fear of hindering his ministry.78
This long dominant interpretation has now rightly fallen out of favour, for a simple grammatical reason. Paul wrote gnêsie, the masculine form of the adjective meaning ‘true, genuine’. Had he a woman in mind he would have written gnêsia.79 It is a question, therefore, of a man named Syzygus, and the play on his name is well brought out by the paraphrase, ‘I ask you, Syzygus, really to be a “partner” and help them’ (NJB).
What happened to Paul’s wife? It is possible that he divorced her, and thereafter maintained a single lifestyle. It seems more likely, however, that what happened was much more traumatic. This would not only justify his silence, but would go a considerable way towards explaining his persecution of the church. Most, if not all, biographies of Paul take this latter activity for granted. We are invited to assume that, if Pharisees were so opposed to Jesus during his ministry, then it would be natural for them to persecute Christians. This gospel portrait of the Pharisees is now recognized as being without historical foundation; for the evangelists the name ‘Pharisee’ had become a code-word for an irreconcilable opponent. When we look at other sources a very different picture emerges, one which only serves to make more urgent the question of why Paul persecuted Christians.
All the conflicts recorded in pre-AD 70 Pharisaic material are internal.80 There is no hint of any agression directed against those who disagreed with them. The hostility documented by the New Testament always comes from the Sadducees. When these conspired to execute James, the leader of the church in Jerusalem, and others,81 it was the Pharisees—‘the most fair-minded and strict in observance of the Law’—who protested.82 Why did Paul, who had made such strenuous efforts to conform (Gal. 1: 14), suddenly break away from the pattern of tolerance established by the Pharisaic movement?
A well-known psychological mechanism switches anger from unacceptable to acceptable channels of expression. As a Pharisee, Paul believed God had a hand in all that happened in history.83 Jerusalem is sited in an earthquake zone, and it cannot have been immune to the domestic tragedies of fire and building collapse, which were so frequent at Rome.84 Had Paul’s wife and children died in such an accident, or in a plague epidemic, one part of his theology would lead him logically to ascribe blame to God, but this was forbidden by another part of his religious perspective, which prescribed complete submission to God’s will. If his pain and anger could not be directed against God, it had to find another target. An outlet for his pent-up desire for vengance had to be rationalized.
Christians could be seen as a danger, not only to the reforming hopes of the Pharisees, but to the fabric of the Jewish people, whose nationalistic aspirations were inevitably going to bring it into conflict with Rome, which needed absolute control of its eastern frontier. Unity was imperative if the Jews were to survive such a conflict. From this perspective Christians were both a religious and a social threat; their existence flouted God’s will. I am not saying that only a bereaved husband could have thought in this way. Undoubtedly many perceived the danger, perhaps even some of the Pharisees. All of these latter would have subscribed to the theological reasons which are sometimes suggested as Paul’s motive,85 but they did not react as he did. Some extraneous historical factor must be invoked to explain Paul’s uniqueness.86 Redirected anger is but a possible answer, whose plausibility none the less is enhanced by its ability to explain Paul’s silence regarding his wife.
Luke is prolific with detail in describing Paul’s persecution of the church. He is first noticed as a youth (Acts 7: 58) looking on with satisfaction at the grisly execution of Stephen (Acts 8: 1; cf. 22: 20). His next appearance is as the archpersecutor, bursting into Christian houses and throwing their occupants into prison (Acts 8: 3). His authority is confirmed when, at his request, the high priest issues letters enabling him to bring prisoners from Damascus (Acts 9: 1–2; cf. 22: 4–5). The nature of this authority becomes apparent only when Paul is made to say, ‘I not only shut up many of the saints in prison, by authority from the chief priests, but when they were put to death I cast my vote against them’ (Acts 26: 10). Since only the Sanhedrin was competent in capital cases,87 and since only full members could vote, Paul is undoubtedly here presented as a member of the Sanhedrin.
The historicity of this picture is compromised by a number of factors. The transition from 7: 58 to 8: 3 is never explained; its abruptness hints at artificiality.88 Paul’s authority to make arrests in Damascus is variously described as derived from the high priest alone (Acts 9: 2) or in conjunction with the council (Acts 22: 5), and from the chief priests (Acts 9: 14; 26: 12). The differences are disturbing, but pale into insignificance beside the fact that neither the high priest nor the Sanhedrin had judicial authority outside the eleven toparchies of Judaea proper.89 Their moral authority might be persuasive, but they could not empower Paul to make arrests, particularly on the territory of a Roman province. Recognition of the strength of this position is apparent in the desperate lengths to which conservative scholars have to go to defend Luke’s veracity. I. H. Marshall, for example, accepts Hanson’s view that Paul’s authorization was to kidnap Christians if he could get away with it!90
As regards Paul’s membership of the Sanhedrin; in the first century Pharisees were certainly members,91 and by AD 25 or thereabouts Paul would have reached the age at which a Jewish male was permitted to function as a judge.92 Thus it is within the bounds of possibility that he was a member. But so many other points in the Lukan presentation of the persecution have been seen to be improbable, if not impossible, that it is difficult to accept Luke’s unsupported statement on this point at face value. The silence of the letters is also significant. Had Paul in fact been a member of the Sanhedrin, the competitive spirit manifested in Galatians 1: 14 makes it certain that he would have mentioned it there; it would also have been an effective component in the argument of Philippians 3: 5 and 2 Corinthians 11: 22.
Once it is noticed that the strongest statements concerning Paul’s pre-Christian activity always occur as introductions to narratives of his conversion, it becomes obvious that it was in Luke’s artistic interest to exaggerate certain negative traits of Paul the persecutor in order to set in greater relief the miracle of his conversion and the success of his apostolate. It enhanced the dramatic impact of his book to have the perfect persecutor transformed into the ideal apostle.
The only element of Luke’s presentation which is confirmed by Paul himself is the fact of persecution; the general picture is very different. The brevity of ‘As to zeal a persecutor of the church (Phil. 3: 6) and ‘I persecuted the church of God’ (1 Cor. 15: 9) is amplified slightly in Galatians, ‘You have heard of my former life in Judaism how intensely (kath’ hyperbolên) I was persecuting the church and trying to destroy it’ (1: 13; cf. 1: 23).
The influence of the Acts of the Apostles is evident in the translation of kath’ hyperbolên by ‘violently’ (RSV, NRSV), or ‘savagely’ (NEB) and somewhat less obviously in an alternative rendering ‘I went to extremes’ (NAB). All such renderings suggest physical attacks culminating in injury if not death. Paul’s use of the adverb elsewhere,93 however, and the context here, combine to indicate that it articulates the quality of the Apostle’s commitment, not the means he employed. He was completely dedicated to, and totally involved in, what was for him an habitual activity.94 It was not a one-off event, and it was not without success. The addition of ‘to devastate, destroy, annihilate’ to ‘to persecute’ in Galatians 1: 13, 23 removes the remote possibility that the latter connoted merely an attempt. Paul did real damage over a period of time impossible to estimate.
Even though by the time of Paul the meaning of ho diôkôn had progressed from the generic ‘hunter’ to the specific ‘prosecutor’,95 neither context supports the claim of Acts that Paul was acting in official juridical capacity. Implicitly in Galatians, but explicitly in Philippians, Paul’s mention of persecution is to demonstrate how seriously he took his Jewishness. A duty would not have had the evidential value which Paul manifestly ascribes to this activity. Thus it was something undertaken on his own initiative. We should think in terms of an officious little zealot rather than of a calm, objective prosecutor.
It is within this framework that we have to try to work out what Paul meant by ‘persecution’. Hultgren astutely perceived that the best clue would be provided by Paul’s use of ‘to persecute’ and ‘persecutor’ elsewhere.96 The noun and verb are used of the persecution of believers (Rom. 12: 14; Gal. 4: 29; 6: 12) and of Paul himself (1 Cor. 4: 12; 2 Cor. 4: 9; 12: 10; Gal. 5: 11). No details are given in the former, but in his own case, if we except the wrestling metaphor of 2 Corinthians 4: 8–10 whose details cannot be pressed,97 Paul mentions being reviled, slandered, and insulted in addition to unspecified hardships and calamities. These latter can be illustrated from 2 Corinthians 11: 25b–27. We cannot, however, extrapolate from this passage that Paul was able to order Christians to be scourged (2 Cor. 11: 24), because such punishment could be administered only by qualified authorities.,98 and not by private individuals such as Paul was.99
Private individuals, however, could denounce individuals to the authorities, and it is entirely possible that Paul employed this tactic. Intellectual zealots are often tattletales. Even though Luke alone mentions them (Acts 6: 9; 24: 12), there is no doubt that there were a number of different synagogues in Jerusalem, where Jews met to study the Law, as there were in any city with a sizeable Jewish population, e.g. Alexandria and Rome.100 Josephus highlights the importance of Jewish legislation that ‘every week the people should set aside their other occupations and gather together to listen to the Law and learn it accurately’,101 and Philo confirms that ‘Even now this practice is retained, and the Jews every seventh day occupy themselves with the philosophy of their fathers’.102
In this situation, where one could challenge and be challenged, as the Gospels report concerning Jesus,103 it is easy to visualize Paul popping up to denounce abrasively those whose divisiveness, in his view, threatened the survival of the Jewish people. Social customs which deviated from the norm (e.g. Acts 2: 46) would initially have drawn attention to the fact that Christians were different, but Paul could later challenge on the basis of specific information. The simplest technique to flush out Christians would have been that mentioned by Luke, ‘he tried to make them blaspheme’ (Acts 26: 11), e.g. by demanding assent to formulations which implied denial of Jesus, such as an oath that the Messiah had not yet come.104 A similar elementary ploy was used by Pliny the Younger in Asia Minor at the beginning of the second century to ferret out Christians (Letters 10. 96). What action the synagogue authorities might have been induced to take if a Christian refused such an oath is a matter for speculation. It was within their power to excommunicate,105 and they could certainly ensure that the life of the person so accused would be less than pleasant. On a less official level, Paul could have made individuals’ lives a misery by frequent challenges, harrassment, and threats.106
Once Paul’s persecution of the church is seen in this light, i.e. as an immature religious bigot working out his personal problems, his journey to Damascus becomes highly problematical. As long as there are victims close at hand this sort of person does not go far afield. That it (unwittingly) accounts for this point is perhaps the most that can be said in favour of the hypothesis that the Damascus to which Paul went was not the great city on the Orontes, but a place within a day’s walk of Jerusalem.
One of the texts found at Qumran is called the Damascus Document (abbreviated as CD) because it mentions ‘the land of Damascus’ as a place of exile where the Essenes made a new covenant.107 The majority of commentators take this Damascus as a symbolic name for Qumran.108 In consequence, some scholars claim that Paul merely went to Qumran, thereby rehabilitating Luke’s assertion that he was operating under the aegis of authorities in Jerusalem whose writ certainly ran in all of Judaea.109
This facile solution cannot stand for three reasons. First, ‘Damascus’ in CD is not a symbol for Qumran, but for Babylon.110 Secondly, the descriptions of Paul’s undignified escape from Damascus imply a city surrounded by a high wall pierced by a number of gates (2 Cor. 11: 33; Acts 9: 24–5). From the excavations it is certain that nothing of the sort ever existed at Qumran. Thirdly, Paul had to flee Damascus because a Nabataean governor sought him (2 Cor. 11: 32). At this time the Nabataeans had no authority over the Jericho area in which Qumran is located; it was under Roman control.
Recognition of this impasse makes Knox’s hypothesis less arbitrary than it first sounds. Paul, he maintains, did not go to Damascus: he lived there. The Syrian city, not Jerusalem, was the scene of his persecution of the church. We have already seen, however, that the arguments he invokes to support this hypothesis do not stand up under close examination.111 The natural implications of Paul’s own witness confirm the location specified by Luke.
Unless we are prepared to admit that we do not know why Paul went to Damascus, we have to postulate a private journey with an unknown objective. Thus Baslez, for example, proposes that Paul went there as a tourist when en route to a vacation with his parents in Tarsus.112 The trouble with such speculation is that the temptation to go further is almost irresistible. The fact that the ice becomes progressively thinner is ignored. Baslez provides the perfect illustration of such danger. She suggests that when the Sanhedrin became aware of Paul’s plans they entrusted him with letters to synagogues in the areas through which he planned to pass, warning them of the danger of converts to Christianity. Paul’s knowledge of the contents furnished him with all the authorization he required to persecute Christian refugees from Jerusalem.113 The scenario is not in itself impossible, but it is manifestly inspired, not by any internal logic, but by a desire to create a historical nucleus for Luke’s account. It is preferable to confess that we do not know why Paul went to Damascus.