Peter’s Action Ratified and Confirmation of the Breakthrough at Antioch
Whereas ch. 10 was primarily about the conversion of Peter, Ch. 11 is primarily about the way in which the Jerusalem church came to accept the astonishing turn of events which Peter narrated, with the report of the (prior?) events at Antioch added on as it were in the backwash, as a kind of corollary. Here again Luke shows his awareness of how fundamental was the transformation in Christian understanding which he was recording. It took massive and repeated intervention by God before Peter was able to accept Cornelius, even Cornelius the God-fearing Gentile, who had already judaized almost all the way to proselyte status (10.2). But now Luke has to ensure that not just Peter but also the (other) apostles and the mother church at Jerusalem are seen to stand with Peter in this momentous advance. And once again, it is the clear evidence of the Spirit’s coming upon Cornelius and the manifest parallel with Pentecost which prove decisive (11.15–18).
In contrast, the breakthrough at Antioch, narrated as the immediate sequel to the Jerusalem church’s acceptance of the conversion of Cornelius, is treated in a quite cursory manner. Only the bare details are provided, emphasizing the Lord Jesus as the focus of the preaching and the Lord’s hand in its success (11.20–21). But the focus quickly swings to the Jerusalem church’s sending of Barnabas to monitor what was happening (11.22–24). Barnabas’ mission in turn becomes the occasion for the reintroduction of Saul/Paul (11.25–26). However, the sequence cannot be rounded off without some reference back to Jerusalem, achieved by using the report of the famine relief visit to Jerusalem of Barnabas and also Saul (11.27–30). In this way the circle is complete. Not only the decisive breakthrough at Caesarea is accepted by the Jerusalem church, but also the continuity between Jerusalem and the other developments at Antioch is secured. The beginning of the outreach to the Gentiles had been accomplished without serious strain or division.
Jerusalem accepts Peter and his acceptance of Cornelius
11.1–18
It is important to appreciate that 11.1–18 is not simply a storyteller’s self-indulgence in repeating a dramatic tale. The retelling serves a different purpose. It is as much about the acceptance of Peter as it is about the acceptance of Cornelius and what he represented. The second account of the events which climaxed in Cornelius being baptized in the Spirit (11.4–17) is presented as Peter’s defence of his own conduct (11.3). And the charge levelled against him is not that he had baptized uncircumcised Gentiles, but that he had eaten with them (11.3). It was Peter’s initial action of acceptance, as a Jew of a Gentile, which was the primary issue. Thus the second account of the epochal event reflects the two stages of the first account. As the first account hung on the conversion of Peter, on the breakthrough of Jewish separateness from other nations, on the abandonment of the presumption that non-Jews per se are unacceptable to God, so the second account hangs on the Jerusalem apostles’ acceptance of Peter in his new conviction and consequent action. Once again Luke underlines just how important were not only the events at Caesarea themselves, but also the acceptance of them by the Jerusalem apostles. Thus the unity of the new movement and its continuity with its previous heritage, even through the process of transformation of previously cherished and fundamental beliefs, are maintained.
If the basic outline of the events narrated in Ch. 10 was derived from early memories of the church at Caesarea, then the event must have occasioned the sort of misgivings as are expressed in 11.3. It follows also that Peter’s unexpected initiative in this case would have had to gain wider acceptance within the Jerusalem church. Whether that approval was of an exception to the rule or of a principle of more universal significance would probably have been unclear in the event. So it is not surprising that the issue arises again in 15.1, 5. Luke himself concludes the retelling with a clear indication that a crucial precedent had been recognized (11.18). But no doubt there were others among the apostles and brothers who saw it only as an exception.
11.1 As usual with these initial breakthroughs, Luke makes a point of noting that the news came back to Jerusalem (cf. 8.14; 11.22). It was always his concern that they should not be seen as any kind of breakaway from Jerusalem, since the unity of the new movement and its continuity with the heritage represented by Jerusalem were fundamental to his understanding and portrayal of Christianity. Luke mentions both apostles and brothers, the one denoting the Jerusalem church’s leadership, the other its membership at large. As was customary then (as indeed until recently) ‘brothers’ would be understood to refer to women as well as men.
11.2 Newer translations rightly avoid the older rendering ‘the circumcision party’, as though Luke intended to indicate a well-defined faction already operative in the Jerusalem church. More accurate are REB (‘those who were of Jewish birth’) or NIV and NRSV (‘the circumcised believers’). The clear implication of Luke’s wording, however, is that their circumcised state was fundamental to their identity — hence, literally, ‘those of/from circumcision’. They were some of ‘the apostles and the brothers’ but not necessarily all of ‘the circumcision’ (cf. 10.45). They should not be demonized or caricatured: Peter had shared their viewpoint and only been changed by extraordinary signs of God’s will!
11.3 The point is made still more sharply by their accusatory statement, ‘You went into the house of uncircumcised men and ate with them!’ (NIV; cf. REB, JB) or question, ‘Why did you . . .?’ (NRSV). It was not that they doubted Cornelius’ reception of the word. It was not that they thought Peter wrong to baptize them. The issue rather was one raised by the characteristic assumption of Jewish piety and by their loyalty to God and to his choice of Israel. These were people who understood their religious identity and duty to include separateness from Gentiles. Consequently their criticism of Peter is twofold: he had gone into the house of an uncircumcised person; and he had eaten with him. In both cases the underlying rationale is the logic of religious purity: it could not be assumed that Gentile households and meal tables (even those of God-fearers) would observe the laws of clean and unclean; they might well be tainted by idolatry. They should therefore be avoided in principle (note again Lev. 20.24–26). How could Peter now (10.14!) have ignored this basic axiom of traditional Judaism?
11.4–14 The story is told again, this time with Peter himself in central focus, and more vividly in consequence. The fact that it was an ecstatic vision (‘in a trance’) is repeated (10.10; 11.5). There is some stylistic variation in the description of the vision itself (cf. 11.6 with 10.12, and 11.10 with 10.16). As often in such storytelling the key words are repeated exactly (10.13, 15; 11.7, 9). There is some variation in Peter’s response (11.8), but the key words are the same (‘common’, ‘unclean’, ‘never’); there may be some unconscious influence from Ezek. 4.14. In 11.11 ‘at that very moment’ heightens the dramatic coincidence of events, as at 10.17–18, and in 11.12 the Spirit’s direction over and above the vision is again emphasized. The final verb of verse 12a can be translated either ‘making no distinction’, or ‘without doubting’ — an effective double entendre. The number of Peter’s companions (six) is the sort of detail which can be held back from the first telling to help maintain interest in the second.
In some contrast, the recollection of Cornelius’ vision is much briefer. Reference to ‘the angel’ presupposes an audience who already know the previous chapter. And ‘a message by which you shall be saved’ is another example of storyteller’s license: Peter’s ministry is introduced with reference to the result it produced. That Cornelius’ household is included within the prospective salvation means that this will be the first conversion and baptism of a household in Acts (see on 10.2; see also 16.15, 31–34 and 18.8). Whether it included those mentioned in 10.24 is unclear. But if so it would provide a good example of ‘house’ meaning extended family.
11.15 The two key points are made right away. First the abruptness and unlooked for character of the Spirit’s falling upon Cornelius is exaggerated (‘I had hardly begun . . .’). This was no human contrivance, but God taking affairs into his own hands. Secondly, what happened to Cornelius was just what had happened to us in the beginning (at Pentecost).
11.16 This second point is repeated for emphasis. The reference is back to 1.5, both for Peter’s audience and for Luke’s readers. As 1.5 directed the Baptist’s (or Jesus’) words forward to Pentecost, so 11.16 likewise identifies what happened at Caesarea by reference back to Pentecost. In both cases they had been baptized with the Holy Spirit. Implicit here is the theology correlated with 1.5: that this outpouring of the Spirit was in fulfilment of the promise of the father (Luke 24.49; Acts 1.4; 2.39). This was the stunning new development for the circumcised believers: that God was fulfilling what he had promised through his prophets to his people, but he was doing so also for Gentiles without their first becoming proselytes (cf. again 3.25).
As the next verse makes particularly clear, the metaphor of Spirit baptism at this point is a metaphor for God’s initial acceptance, not for some second experience subsequent to conversion (cf. 11.14 — ‘words by which you shall be saved’). At the same time, as I Cor. 12.13 makes still more clear, that initial acceptance was also understood to be an empowering for ministry within the body of Christ — an emphasis quite far removed from Luke’s point here, even if it may be implicit in 10.46, and even more, earlier, in 1.5 and 8.
11.17 For the third time within three verses the same point is put: God has given these Gentiles the same gift; this can only mean that they are as much accepted by God as Peter’s fellow Jews; how then could Peter resist (the same verb as in 8.37 and 10.47) God? Peter’s self-defence is complete. Interestingly, baptism itself is not mentioned in this second telling. For that is not the point: it was the gift of the Spirit to uncircumcised men which settled the matter. It was the Spirit, not baptism which rendered circumcision irrelevant.
It is particularly striking here that Peter says: ‘God gave them the same gift as he did to us when we believed on the Lord Jesus Christ.’ (a) Peter assumes that Cornelius and his friends had made an act of faith/faith-commitment to the Jesus he had preached to them; the implication of 10.43–44 is confirmed (so also 15.7, 9). The nexus of the divine-human encounter is the openness of trust met by the openhandedness of God’s gift. (b) But as the Gentile Pentecost presupposed a commitment of faith, so did the Jewish Pentecost. This is the most astonishing feature of Peter’s words — ‘as he did to us when we believed’. Pentecost in Jerusalem was as much a beginning as Pentecost in Caesarea. So much is the gift of the Spirit the clinching sign of God’s acceptance of the initial commitment of faith, that Peter can even portray Pentecost as the time when he himself first believed. There could scarcely be clearer indication that for Luke the gift of the Spirit is the divine response to the act of faith commitment, the divine life outreached to meet and embrace the human turning to God (11.18).
Thus Luke re-emphasizes again that it is the Spirit which is the primary mark of divine acceptance and of discipleship. As with the Samaritan episode (8.14–17), the narrative builds to this as the climax, that which makes the decisive difference, that which identifies the new movement above all else. But even though it is Luke’s emphasis, we need not doubt that the heart of Luke’s account is firmly rooted in history and that it took such evident manifestations of the Spirit’s presence to convince believers so deeply rooted in their Jewish traditions (cf. Gal. 2.8).
11.18 This is the climax to the double narrative of 10.1–11.18 — not only Peter’s conversion (10.47–48), but the Jerusalem church’s positive affirmation of what had happened. The verb used, ‘fell silent’, may signify continuing reservations, as in 21.14 (cf. 15.1, 5). But the proof of divine approval had been too overwhelming.
The description used, ‘God gave repentance’, echoes the same formula in 5.31. Only, where 5.31 celebrated repentance given to Israel, here God is glorified for giving the very same repentance to Gentiles — ‘even to the Gentiles!’.
Interesting is the way Luke has scattered the various elements within the process of conversion-initiation across the double narrative — faith (10.43; 11.17), forgiveness (10.43), Spirit (10.44–47; 11.15–17), baptism (10.48), and only now repentance (11.18). It would be foolish to attempt a fine clinical analysis of their relation. The fact is that here Luke can sum up the whole process in the single phrase, ‘repentance into life’, from beginning to end, as it were, just as he had summed it up in 10.43 in terms of belief and forgiveness. There is no hard and fast ‘order of salvation’ indicated here which must be followed by all would-be evangelists. Rather the flexibility of language reflects the variety of ways, and often unexpected ways (as here) in which individuals come to God. It is the encounter between the open heart and the openhearted God which matters, however it comes about and however it may be expressed.
The breakthrough at Antioch likewise ratified
11.19–30
Luke now seems to revert to the same Hellenist source on the basis of which he had constructed chs 6–8. We may note, in particular, the way the description of Barnabas in 11.24 matches that of 6.5 and 7.55; also the repeated use of ‘church’ (8.1, 3; 11.22, 26; 13.1) and ‘disciples’ (6.1, 2, 7; 11.26, 29). Having inserted the two most momentous events for the early Christian expansion (the conversion of Saul, and the conversion of Peter and acceptance by Jerusalem), Luke returns to where he had left off, as the repetition of the wording used in introducing the Philip sequence (8.4) indicates. But unlike the attention given to these intervening episodes, the attention given here to the breakthrough at Antioch is minimal. In striking contrast, Luke narrates here no axiom-transforming visions, no perspectivetransfiguring outpourings of the Spirit. At the same time, however, he ensures that the development, so pregnant with future potential (13.1–3), is still tied back into Jerusalem, first by the mission of Barnabas and then by the account of the famine relief visit from Antioch to Jerusalem.
The fact that the breakthrough at Antioch is described in the briefest of terms should not be taken to imply that Luke was unaware of its significance. On the contrary, the care he took in his account of the conversion of Cornelius (the conversion of Peter and the acceptance by the Jerusalem church) shows just how important he saw the initial acceptance of Gentiles to have been. Ironically, then, the playing down of the significance of the Antioch breakthrough attests Luke’s appreciation of its importance. It was so important that it had to be securely interwoven into the history of the movement’s steady expansion, and the revolutionary shift to the Gentiles validated beforehand by the critically scrutinized and divinely approved breakthrough at Caesarea.
In contrast it is probably significant that the one hint of Antioch’s importance for the earliest mission which Luke retains is the fact that the believers were first called ‘Christians’ there (11.26). The significance is that the first quite distinctive title for members of the new movement is coined in Antioch. It is precisely Jewish believers preaching successfully to and forming one church with Gentiles which provides the model for the new and most distinctive identity of the Jesus sect.
11.19 As well as going into Judaea and Samaria (8.1), not to mention Galilee? (9.31), those scattered from Jerusalem by the wave of hostility to the Hellenist believers had also gone up the coast to Phoenicia, across the short stretch of sea to Cyprus, and not least to Antioch. Luke makes Antioch in Syria the climax of the account, since Antioch was the major city in the region, the old capital city of the Seleucid Empire, the headquarters of Rome’s provincial government, and the third largest city in the Roman Empire (after Rome and Alexandria).
That they preached initially only to Jews (no definite article) makes sense. Antioch was a major centre of the Jewish diaspora. The theological point implied, however, is that the Hellenist believers represented by Stephen had not turned from their native faith, despite the criticism of the Temple indicated in the charge brought against Stephen, as expressed also in the speech attributed to him (ch. 7). They may have turned from the Temple, but they had by no means abandoned the synagogue as the natural focus for their own worship and for the exposition of their faith as Jews.
11.20 It is frustrating that Luke can be so specific — some Cypriots and Cyrenians — but only so specific. He mentions no names. The breakthrough at Antioch, even more momentous in its consequences than the breakthrough in Caesarea, is linked to no particular individual. So, often, it is the unsung heroes to whom the work of church and gospel owes its greatest human debts. The fact that the early leadership of the church at Antioch included Lucius of Cyrene and Barnabas of Cyprus (13.1) at least gives us enough confidence that the tradition is based on good first-hand information.
Luke obviously intended to recount a significant development in this verse. Precisely what he wrote, however, is confused by textual variants. Did he write ‘Hellenists’? Then that would make the contrast with verse 19 something of a puzzle. Since the Hellenists in 6.1 and 9.29 were almost certainly Jews, the contrast with the ‘Jews’ of 11.19 (who presumably also functioned largely in Greek) would be lost. Most commentators therefore accept the other most frequent reading in the manuscripts — ‘Greeks’ — which does make an obvious contrast with the ‘Jews’ of verse 19 (cf. 14.1; 18.4; 19.10, 17; 20.21). ‘Hellenists’, we may assume, was inserted by early copyists attempting, consciously or unconsciously, to maintain consistency with the earlier references.
The point, then, is that a decisive step was taken at Antioch, and, even in Luke’s account, taken independent of Jerusalem and of any precedent like that recounted in 10.1–11.18. We may presume those preached to were God-fearers, Gentile sympathizers attracted to Judaism’s ethos, its worship, festivals and moral standards. Josephus indicates that there were many such in Antioch (see on 10.2). We may also presume that at least the initial impact was made within the synagogue gatherings.
The absence of any comment over circumcision is surprising, but may have been excluded by Luke’s abbreviation. Luke wanted to keep that controversy for later (ch. 15). It may also be that the more traditional Jewish believers (‘those of the circumcision’) were concentrated in the Jerusalem church and were unaware of the significance of developments in Antioch (Barnabas did not ‘report back’ for some time — 11.30). How these Gentiles who believed, turned to the Lord, and no doubt were baptized in the name of Jesus, were regarded by the Jews who did not so believe is also unknown. Possibly the anomaly of many God-fearing Gentiles attached to Antioch synagogues, while still unwilling to become proselytes, was simply expanded to embrace such Gentiles being regarded as full members of a particular Jewish sect. In such confusion and unclarity the most important step in earliest Christian history seems to have been taken.
11.21 At any rate, Luke was quite sure that the success in thus drawing in many new converts was the work of God (cf. 4.28, 30; 13.11). He uses a summary of success similar to 2.47, 4.4, 6.7 and 9.35 (see on 13.49). For the metaphor, ‘the hand of the Lord’, cf. I Sam. 5.6, 9 and II Sam. 3.12. Luke can vary the imagery he uses to describe divinely enabled success (cf. e.g. 2.47; 9.31; 11.23; 12.24).
11.22–24 The same procedure is followed as in 8.14–15 and 11.1–3. News of the unexpected development is brought to the church in Jerusalem. They have the wisdom to send Barnabas, himself both a Cypriot and a member of the Jerusalem church held in high standing (4.36–37), and one who shared the charismatic endowment of the Hellenist leadership (6.5; 11.24). Given the strength of the traditions regarding Barnabas (4.36–37 and 13.1) there is no reason to dispute this version of events.
Barnabas’ open-hearted response (‘he rejoiced’) is in contrast to the negative reaction in Jerusalem (11.3). The success he saw is described not in terms of God’s Spirit but in terms of ‘the grace of God’ — an anticipation of the Pauline use of the terms which characterizes the subsequent narratives (13.43; 14.26; 15.40; 20.24) and anticipates the reports which were later to convince the Jerusalem council (15.11; Gal. 2.9). It is in such instances that ‘Spirit’ and ‘grace’ become almost synonymous, the one denoting the power, the other the generosity of God’s outreach and enabling to feeble humans. Characteristic of the new movement is that they should hold fast to the Lord (here no doubt Christ) with resolute hearts.
Another brief summary of expansion echoes that of 5.14. That two such summaries follow in such close succession (11.21, 24) is a reminder of just how compressed Luke’s account of this major breakthrough is.
11.25–26 The Jerusalem-Antioch link represented by Barnabas now stretches to Tarsus to draw Saul back into play. When this happened we can no longer say. The evangelistic work during this period to which Paul briefly refers (Gal. 1.21–2.1) could have been carried out from either Tarsus (Cilicia) or Antioch (Syria). The implication of both Gal. 2.1 and of the succeeding narrative here, however, is that Saul/Paul functioned during that period as a teacher or representative or emissary of the Antioch church. The ‘whole year’ mentioned in verse 26, an unusual time note in the first half of Acts, covers only part of the period. The likelihood is that he spent a substantial time in Antioch, during which he emerged as one of the leaders of the church there in his own right (13.1). That it was Barnabas who drew him back into the mainstream of developments is consistent with the early close association between the two attested by both Acts (chs 13–14) and Paul (Gal. 2.1–10; I Cor. 9.6).
The name ‘Christians’ was first used in Antioch. To be noted is the fact that it is a Latin formation — Christiani (like the Herodiani of Mark 3.6 and 12.13). That must mean that it was coined by the Roman authorities in Antioch; it next appears in situations of confrontation in 26.28, I Peter 4.16 and the second-century Roman historian Tacitus, Annals 15.44 (referring to those blamed for the great fire of Rome in 64). The Antiochene authorities presumably observed, through their agents, that there was a coherent and substantial grouping emerging within the penumbra of the Antioch synagogues, involving both Jews and Greeks. Evidently their sources were sufficiently good for them to recognize that this Jewish sect was characterized by its belief in Jesus the Christ and by living out lives in the name of this Christ. It was natural that they should be referred to, then, as the Christ-ones, ‘Christians’. The name thus coined got about, and as so often with nicknames (e.g. ‘the Moonies’), it stuck. It does not seem to have had political connotations or to carry a negative overtone; so the first Christians were not seen as a threat to the civil authorities. But neither should we assume (as many do) that the name was coined because of any perceived self-distancing from or opposition to ‘Jews’. Like the ‘Herodians’, the ‘Christians’ may only have been perceived as a substantial faction within the larger Jewish constituency of Antioch.
11.27–30 The function of this final paragraph is to complete the circle drawn by Barnabas’ mission from Jerusalem to Antioch, thence to Tarsus, and then back again to Antioch. In this way the expansion at Antioch remains linked firmly into the mother church at Jerusalem.
That prophetic activity was a feature of earliest Christianity, there can be no doubt (e.g. 13.1; 15.32; I Cor. 12.28–29; Eph. 4.11). That is to say, there were those who spoke out in Christian gatherings under the inspiration of the Spirit; Paul’s directions on the subject give us a fair idea of the sort of thing that must often have happened in Christian assemblies (I Cor. 14). Likewise it is clear that there were wandering prophets who moved from one Christian gathering to another (attested subsequently in Didache 11.1–13.1). Agabus himself we meet again, still travelling, in 21.10 (when Luke himself was probably present).
Agabus’ prediction of a great and universal famine is attributed by Luke to the Spirit. And though we know of a number of famines during the reign of Claudius (who ruled from 41 to 54), the best attestation is for a severe famine in Judaea itself round about 46–47 (Josephus, Antiquities 20.51–53 and 101; cf. 3.320–21). Why Luke thought of it as a universal famine is unclear (cf. the universal census of Luke 2.1). A universal famine would have been quite exceptional, and would have left the Antiochenes in as much of a plight as the Jerusalemites. Perhaps our sources are incomplete, or possibly Luke has exaggerated or simply made a slip. At any rate, the Greek implies that the prediction was of an imminent famine (not always brought out in translation); hence the otherwise puzzling immediate response of the Antioch church. But the whole episode is rather obscure.
11.29–30 Why the Antiochenes should jump to the conclusion that the Jerusalem church needed help is also unclear (unless Agabus did, after all, predict a famine in all the land, that is, of Judaea!). But we should observe that the practice of the common fund and of selling off capital (rather than simply contributing from income), as described in 2.45 and 4.34, could well have left the Jerusalem church in substantial impoverishment, little able (as Barnabas would know well) to cope with any famine. In Luke’s account, Barnabas and Saul are sent by ‘the disciples’, that is as representatives of the Antioch church, to take the relief monies collected (literally ‘service’, as again in 12.25; cf. Rom. 15.31; II Cor. 8.4; 9.1, 12–13). They are sent to the Judaean ‘brothers’, or more specifically to ‘the elders’, who now appear for the first time as a group of leaders in Jerusalem, but who play an important role thereafter (15.2–6, 22–23; 16.4). Why not ‘the apostles’? Perhaps, for Luke, because ‘the elders’ had taken the role (administering the common fund) for which the seven had been elected (6.2–3).
All this may have bearing on the most puzzling feature of all. For Paul’s own account of his relations with Jerusalem does not leave room for a visit to Jerusalem at this stage. Some argue that the visit of Gal. 2.1–10 must refer to this visit (the famine relief visit). But it is more likely that Gal. 2.1–10 is Paul’s account of the Jerusalem conference described by Luke in Acts 15. It is difficult, therefore, to know what to make of this anomaly. Luke certainly uses the account to make secure and solid the links between Jerusalem and Àntioch, so that when Antioch becomes the springboard for further advance it will not appear as a breakaway from the movement whose centre was still Jerusalem. But where did he get the tradition from? It can hardly be squared with Paul’s insistence that he stayed away from Jerusalem for fourteen years, following his first visit. Any dissembling on Paul’s part on this point would have undermined his whole argument in Gal. 1–2, an argument on which his rebuke and plea to the Galatians was based.
The simplest solution may be to see here another example of Luke’s foreshortening or concertinaing events to bring into closer juxtaposition events which were more separate. Perhaps in this case he has brought forward that aspect of Paul’s final visit to Jerusalem (ch. 21), since (apart from 24.17) he ignores the reason that Paul himself gave for it (to deliver the collection), just as he had omitted the issue of clean and unclean in Mark 7 and the accusation against Jesus at his trial (Mark 14.55–60) because he wanted to deal with them later (see further Introduction to 8.1–3). Alternatively, and if anything more likely, Acts 11.29–30 is a different version of the visit described more fully in Ch. 15. That is, the embassy from Antioch in Ch. 15 had a double function — to seek clarity on the issue of circumcision for Gentile believers and to bring famine relief to the impoverished believers in Jerusalem (cf. Gal. 2.10). It may therefore not be necessary to impugn the basic historical value of the tradition Luke uses here. Nevertheless, the difficulty of correlating Acts 11.29–30 with Gal. 1–2 in particular remains, and the scholarly discussion of this issue seems to be endless.