The Build-up to the Hearing before Governor Festus and King Agrippa
In many ways this is the strangest chapter in the book. The business of Paul in Roman custody has already been drawn out for more than three chapters. And nothing would have been easier for Luke than to concertina the events narrated in this chapter into a brief sentence or two. Even if the appeal to Caesar is the dramatic high point of the chapter (25.11–12), a Luke, short of space on his roll or anxious to move the narrative on, could readily have included it at the end of the speech in Ch. 26.
Why then this marking time and foot dragging delay, by the end of which we are no further forward than when we began the chapter? Sensitivity to the unfolding drama probably provides sufficient answer.
First, there is the dramatic effect of suspense being screwed up to steadily higher pitch. The previous hearing before Felix had ended by being adjourned. Now all hangs in suspense. How is Paul going to come out of this confrontation with the legal might of Rome? Previous encounters had ended most positively (13.12; 16.35–40; 18.12–17; 19.23–41). But Felix had passed over the opportunity to give a similarly positive affirmation of Paul and what he stood for (24.24–27). And the further delay poses the possibility of an alternative outcome in a tantalizing way. So Festus is shown as first standing firm before Jewish demands (25.4–5), but then as willing to accommodate them (25.9), opening up the possibility of dirty work at the crossroads (25.3). And even the appeal to Caesar, at once granted (25.11–12), is not allowed to settle the matter. Instead king Herod Agrippa II is introduced on the scene and the build-up to Paul’s last great self-testimony (ch. 26) begins afresh, with the sort of marking time dialogue which imparts no new information but simply stretches out the suspense still more (25.13–27). This is Luke the storyteller and dramatist par excellence at work.
Secondly, within this sequence the manoeuvres of the principal parties help maintain the reader’s interest. ‘The Jews’ continue to be implacably opposed to Paul, willing to stoop to treacherous means to dispose of him (25.2–3, 7). But their representative character is more clearly signalled (25.2, 7). And in the second half of the narrative they leave the stage, to take no further direct part in the proceedings, and to be replaced as representative of Jewish interests (26.2–3) by the much more pliable Agrippa (25.13–26.32). Festus himself is portrayed as being genuinely uncertain and unclear about the matter (25.20, 26), open to and needing firm guidance (so why does Luke not go ahead and provide it?). Only Paul is rock solid in his stance and in his repeated denial of any wrongdoing against his people (25.8, 10–11). But these replies are too brief. What the dramatic storyline cries out for is a final and complete refutation of the charges and the resolution of the suspense.
And so, like a well-staged play, with the grand processional entry of Agrippa and his consort, followed by the military staff, the chief notables and finally Paul himself (25.23; any film director worth his salt would recognize the potential of the scene), and then the prologue spoken by Festus (25.24–27), Luke at last brings us to the great climax of Paul’s final defence and proclamation (ch. 26).
On the question of historicity, we again need entertain no doubt as to the main outlines of the tale. The portrayals of procurator Festus (25.1) and of king Agrippa (25.13) are in character with what we know of them from elsewhere. The variation in time notes (‘three days’, ‘not more than eight or ten days’, ‘many days’ — 25.1, 6, 14) suggests more than arbitrary choice. And even the pageantry of the final scene would fit well with the ancient love of display and as a setting for what comes close to a ‘show trial’. But the detailed exchanges probably owe most to Luke’s historical imagination and dramatic flair: he does not bother to specify the charges brought against Paul (25.7); Paul’s response is equally vague (25.8, 10–11; apart from the reference to the Temple in 25.8); and presumably Luke had no record to draw on of the private conversation between Festus and Agrippa (25.14–22). On the other hand, given a degree of virulent hostility towards Paul on the part of at least some of the Jewish leadership in Jerusalem, the narrative has an overall plausibility which would fully satisfy Luke’s canons of historiography. And somewhat surprisingly, Luke does little to advance his central claim that the movement which Paul led was Jewish through and through (contrast even 25.19 with 23.6 and 24.14–15); he must have thought the point sufficiently secure. Here it is the demands of the unfolding drama which override all else.
25.1 The year when Festus took over from Felix as procurator of Judaea is uncertain (probably 59 or 60); the year of 62 for his death (in office) is more certain. These dates provide valuable correlation for dating the latter years of Paul’s life. According to Josephus, Festus was a much stronger and fairer Procurator than either his predecessor (Felix) or his successor (Albinus): he took firm action against bands of dissidents and handled a tricky situation regarding a wall constructed in the Temple area with sensitivity (Antiquities 20.185–95). The way he is portrayed in the following narrative conforms with this broad picture.
25.2 That Festus should make one of his first priorities a visit to Jerusalem is a reminder of the increasing tensions of the period (increasing brigandage, or guerrilla actions) and of the importance of commanding Jerusalem as Israel’s capital and heart. That Paul should be high on the agenda of the chief priests and other leading Jews is equally understandable: the threat which Paul’s mission to the Gentiles was seen to represent and embody, a threat to Jewish national identity and integrity, would have made his case stand out, whatever the other grievances of the time. The High Priest at that time was one Ishmael; but the narrative no longer depends on such details (cf. 23.1–5).
25.3 What were Luke’s sources for postulating a further plot against Paul? Presumably these were not the same men as vowed to starve themselves in 23.12; two years had elapsed! Did Luke simply assume an equivalent strategy? In the increasingly tense and fervid atmosphere of the early 60s (the Jewish revolt began in 66) such a supposition would not necessarily be far-fetched.
25.4–5 Festus replies with the voice of authority: they must come to him and present their case at the place where he is in sole and complete control.
25.6–8 The absence of specific charges (‘many and weighty complaints’) and refutation suggests that Luke no longer wants to linger over details. At the same time, the delay of two years in proceedings might well have blunted or broadened some of the earlier charges. The reader, of course, would hardly need reminding (24.5–6, 17–21). But Luke’s concern was to set the scene with broad brush strokes and to evoke the atmosphere of continuing charge and denial. The important points for the reader to note would be the threatening attitude of the Jews (25.7 — they ‘stood around him’; similarly 25.18), the absence of proof in support of the charges (25.7), and Paul’s blanket denial of any offence — whether against the law, or the Temple or Caesar (25.8). The last (against Caesar) is a surprising new element in the charges, but it could reflect the similar tactics used against Jesus (particularly Luke 23.2), or an understandable attempt to bring home to the authorities the fundamentally subversive character of Paul’s work as seen by the plaintiffs (cf. 16.21; 17.7).
25.9 Precisely the same phrase is used here as with Felix (24.27 — ‘wishing to do the Jews a favour’). But the context is different: Felix, at the inglorious end of his career, seeking to buy off opposition from his former subjects which might prove fatal to him in Rome; Festus, at the beginning of his period in office, showing willing to come and go with his new subjects. In the shunting back and forth of Paul between Jewish and Roman authority, this was a point of real danger: were the case to revert in any measure to Jewish jurisdiction, that could be the end for Paul (quite apart from any extra-juridical plot — 25.3). That the trial would still be before Festus was some safeguard; but would it nevertheless be a fatal move in the wrong direction (cf. 25.11; and note the ambiguity of 25.20)?
25.10–12 Presumably some such thoughts would have been in Paul’s mind: his chief hope of safety lay in his remaining in Roman custody and within the protection of Roman justice. The response is dignified, even noble: he had done his people, their representatives and what they stood for, no wrong (even Festus’ brief acquaintance with the case would have made that clear to him); he was no wrongdoer and had done nothing deserving of death; there were no grounds for his being returned to Jewish jurisdiction (the real fear); ‘I appeal to Caesar’. Nothing is said of it at this point, but Paul exercises the right of the Roman citizen — to be tried by the Emperor (in this case Emperor Nero, whose first five years, 54–59, were remembered as a period of good rule). Festus would know of Paul’s citizenship as a matter of court record (23.27), and would have no reason to deny the citizen’s right. Luke assumes that as one of Roman citizenship’s most ancient and most basic rights it would be well known to his readers.
25.13 Agrippa II was son of Agrippa I (see 12.20–23). He had been only sixteen when his father died (AD 44). Emperor Claudius had decided he was too young to inherit and appointed a Roman governor instead. In the intervening years, however, he had been given more and more of the north-eastern territories of Herod the Great’s former kingdom. His reputation is disputed, but he seems to have functioned in Rome as a spokesman for Jewish causes; he is remembered as having engaged in legal discussion with the famous Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus; and it may have been at his insistence that the non-Jewish husbands of his sisters were first circumcised. So his interest in and knowledge of Jewish law and tradition was probably common knowledge: sufficient at least to justify Festus’ seeking out his advice (25.14, 22, 26) and Paul’s subsequent compliment (26.3). It was thus a very astute move on Festus’ part to consult Agrippa: to have such an acknowledged authority on Jewish affairs advise and approve his judgment on Paul would provide excuse enough for Festus either for giving way to the pressures of the Jewish council or for acceding to them.
Bernice was Agrippa’s sister. She had been twice widowed, and a third marriage had failed. She seems to have settled to the role of acting as consort or hostess to the unmarried Agrippa, inevitably giving rise to otherwise unfounded rumours of incest.
25.14–22 follows the familiar dramatic convention of letting the reader listen in to a conversation in which the events to date are passed in brief review. Little is added to the reader’s knowledge and the variations in details are insignificant; but as already noted (Introduction to Ch. 25 [pp.317f.]), the purpose of the paragraph seems to be rather to build up the suspense precisely by this failure to move the plot forward. In the course of it, however, the characterization of Festus is strengthened: he comes across as a representative of Roman justice at its best (25.16–17), trying always to be fair and genuinely seeking the truth (25.20–21), in contrast to the ill-defined and malicious accusations of Paul’s enemies (25.15, 18).
The most interesting verse and the only one which really adds anything to Luke’s narrative is 25.19. Far from any attempt having been made to substantiate the earlier charges of riot or sedition (24.5; 25.8–9) the whole case had proved to be entirely an internal Jewish dispute. Festus calls Israel’s religion a ‘superstition’: that is, not necessarily a negative designation, but depicting Judaism as simply one national religion among many (see on 17.22). The important word, however, is not ‘superstition’, but ‘their own’. The echo of 18.14–15 and 23.29 in particular will be deliberate; the same word ‘(controversial) questions, issues’ is used in 15.2, 18.15, 23.29, 26.3 and here. In this way the dramatic purpose is well served: if the affair is all a matter of internal dispute should Festus not conclude as Gallio had? — ‘See to it yourselves’ (18.15); lest the tension slacken, Festus omits the assurance that the trial in Jerusalem would be ‘before me’ (25.9, 20).
More important for the deeper theological claim of the book as a whole is the repeated affirmation (from the Roman perspective) that the new movement which Paul represented was an internal Jewish movement, which raised matters of controversy about but still within the religion of the Jews (‘their own superstition’; 18.14–15; 23.29). Festus has even grasped that the controversial questions focus on the issue of Jesus’ resurrection (cf. 4.2; 17.18, 32). The context makes it unnecessary to repeat that this not least is an internal issue (23.6; 24.15) and allows Luke to formulate the belief as one to whom the idea was strange — ‘a certain Jesus, who was dead, but whom Paul asserted to be alive’.
25.23–27 The stage setting is dramatic: the entry of Agrippa and Bernice ‘with great pageantry’; the procession of military and civic dignitaries; and, last of all, the entry of Paul — the real climax. Festus’ preliminary speech again rehearses well-known details, but, given the setting, some such prologue was necessary before Paul takes centre stage. The claim that ‘the whole Jewish population’ had petitioned him against Paul may be typical exaggeration such as we have seen earlier (cf. e.g. 2.5–6; 5.14, 16), but it helps reinforce the point that ‘the Jews’ in these chapters (21.11; 22.30; 23.20, 27; 24.9, 27; 25.9–10) are to be understood as those Jews most representative of their people. ‘The Lord’ here is the earliest literary evidence of the absolute form used for the Emperor, a usage which was to become steadily more frequent and more problematical for Christians.
It should be noted that the scene is not portrayed as a formal trial: no formal indictment is brought against Paul — on the contrary, he is declared innocent (25.25), for the second or third time (23.29; 25.18); and there is no speech for the prosecution (as in Ch. 24). The format rather is that of a hearing (but in a magnificent setting; contrast 24.24–26), designed to give Paul’s final complete self-testimony maximum effect. The final sentences in particular (25.26–27) give Paul the perfect opening: the slate is blank; let Paul write on it what he will.