[The text discussed is Luke 21:1–22:62.]
I again joined the Christians who meet at Antonius’s house and was entertained most of the time by young Nouna, whose antics have cast a spell over me. She insisted to Mania that she distribute the bread to everyone. Unable to carry a bread basket herself, she then conscripted me as her servant, a role I was to play for most of the dinner, carrying the basket behind her while she made sure that everyone had his fill. In the process, she renamed me so that I became Stachys, and she took my name, Antipas. This was harmless fun. I teased her by saying that, in Jesus’s view, I, as the servant, was greater than she, the master, since the last will be first, and the first will be last [13:30]. Our role-playing concluded toward the end of the meal, when she became tired and fell asleep in Diotis’s arms.
After dinner, we assembled in the courtyard of Antonius’s house, and I read again from your monograph. We noted several things. First, we were puzzled by Jesus’s instruction that his followers should carry swords [22:36–38], although when one of them used his sword against the servant of the high priest, Jesus put a stop to that kind of action. It would be interesting to know which follower made use of the sword. Demetrius thinks he heard that it was Peter [cf. John 18:10], who is soon to swing to the other extreme of reaction and betray Jesus. Simon thought there might be some irony in the fact that, when Judas and his company approached Jesus and his disciples, they were met with a sword. Simon holds the view that Judas was named Iscariot [22:3] as a play on the word sicarii, the daggermen. If so, this would identify him as a member of the extreme factional group of daggermen who kidnapped and murdered prominent Jewish aristocracy as punishment for their compliance with Rome, and who maintained that the Jewish god alone is sovereign and should reign over the Jews. But I pointed out that Simon’s theory is based on the assumption that the sicarii group existed in Jesus’s day, which is not necessarily the case. I did not hear of their existence until a few years prior to the Jewish uprising against Rome [66–70 CE]. Moreover, as Simon admitted, the name “Iscariot” could simply mean “man from Kerioth,” Kerioth being a Judean village.
Several features of this reading were reminiscent of issues mentioned earlier in your monograph. Jesus continued to highlight the final judgment by the Son of Man [21:27, 36], whom Jesus interpreted as himself, the one who suffers [22:20–22]. Again Jesus predicted the destruction of Jerusalem, stating that the city would be “surrounded by armies” and “trampled on by the Gentiles” [21:20, 24]—events that happened as he predicted.
Moreover, Jesus continued to invert societal norms, chiding those of us who take pride in our long-standing public benefaction and extolling the virtues of powerlessness [21:1–4; 22:24–30]. I expressed some resistance to this sentiment. Without benefactors to promote the social and material fabric of society, the empire would come to a grinding halt, collapsing into chaos and anarchy. Demetrius had a different view. He thought that the problem lay not with Jesus’s vision but with the fact that his vision had been grasped by only a minority of people. He imagined that if the whole world were to live by Jesus’s vision, there would be no need for the system of benefaction as currently practiced by the elite. The problem with benefaction, in his view, is the way it promotes the public honor of a benefactor engaged in an intricate contest for prestige and power. The need to acquire additional material resources in order to exemplify the benefactor’s power and honor usually causes him to take predatory advantage of the vulnerable in an unrelenting and exploitative manner. (At this point, I wanted to object, but I was conscious of Simon’s presence in the meeting and knew that his situation in Galilee resembled what Demetrius had described. I found it impossible to turn my gaze toward Simon.) Benefaction itself may not be the problem, Demetrius suggested; the problem lies with the larger system of honor and shame in which benefaction operates.
I mentioned in reply that the practice of those who gather at Antonius’s house of caring for others in need might itself be considered a form of benefaction. But Simon felt that this kind of benefaction differs from the kind denounced by Jesus, in which benefactors lord their positions over others in a bid to inflate their own reputations. Simon felt that Christians were expected to engage in acts of kindness only to enhance the reputation of their god, in the expectation that he would look favorably on those acts and use them as vehicles of blessing. This, he felt, was how his god had used Jesus’s act of kindness. Jesus’s death on behalf of others became a conduit of blessing for many who find that even their insignificant lives are valued in the eyes of their god.
These views are difficult to adjudicate. What is clear from your narrative is that Jesus expected those who live by his vision to meet with opposition within the empire. This is not surprising, of course. He was realistic about his own fate, and he was also well aware of the fate that might await those who honor him. He contrasted the cares of this world [21:34] with obedience to his god, and he demonstrated obedience in accepting what he perceived as his divinely ordained calling. At the same time, he expected that his followers would be persecuted by kings and governors for their lifestyles [21:12].
The theme of persecution sparked an interesting discussion about Christians who have already been persecuted. For instance, mention was made of the Christians who were set alight in the circus of Rome under instructions by Nero, about which you and I have already corresponded. I remembered your comment that the Peter depicted in your narrative was executed for his convictions. What an irony, then, that the one who denied Jesus three times went on to die as a martyr for Jesus’s cause. Perhaps the rest of your narrative explains his transformation.
In relation to Peter’s denial of Jesus, Photion, one of our number, reported that those who meet in the house of Kalandion have now decided to disband their meetings at Kalandion’s house and move their gatherings to the temple honoring Rome and Augustus, the first provincial temple for a Roman emperor in all of Asia Minor. They expect to gather there regularly on the Lord’s Day so that it will be clear to all that their worship of Jesus does not conflict with their worship of other gods. Evidently, the impetus for this adjustment came from a warning from Rufinus, who sees the worship of Jesus to be troublesome for Pergamum’s fortunes in the eyes of the empire. Domitian’s claim to divinity is nonnegotiable, and the priests of the imperial cult expect worship of the emperor to be incorporated into the fabric of everyday life. Consequently, those at Kalandion’s house have decided to signal their status as honorable citizens of the empire by worshiping the powerful Jesus within the imperial temple itself.
Photion wondered whether this was simply common sense or whether, in fact, it amounted to a subtle form of betrayal, like that of Peter. To me, it seems a strategically sensible move for that gathering of Christians. Nonetheless, I see that it could not be adopted as a strategy for those gathering at Antonius’s house without shattering the delicate ethos of their corporate life. I mentioned that any who wish to worship the emperor could easily do so in the imperial temple at any point in the week. The gatherings at Antonius’s house, therefore, are not necessarily in conflict with the wishes of the emperor. Nonetheless, I am aware that some strong-minded Christians at Antonius’s house would not be eager to offer sacrifices to the emperor, since they consistently affirm their conviction that Jesus himself is the incarnate form of the creator god, who alone is worthy of worship. Still, I considered it prudent to mention the option, if only to plant the seed of the idea. Nothing was said in response. The prospect of the emperor’s escalating demands to be worshiped seemed to create an unexpressed sense of foreboding among some of the gatherers.
At this point, Demetrius suggested that perhaps “persecution” should not be defined only with reference to martyrdom. As a stonemason, he is finding it increasingly difficult to carry out his trade. The stonemasons’ guild prides itself in honoring the emperor, and its meetings include the offering of sacrifices to the emperor. Guild membership fees have been increased to include a donation to the imperial temple in order to promote the worship of the emperor in Pergamum. The guild exercises such power within the city that stonework is available only to its members. Demetrius is a member of the Pergamene guild, just as he was in Ancyra, but he is also known as a worshiper of Jesus, so he is looked upon with some suspicion. Recently, work has not been quick in coming to him because he does not support emperor worship and therefore is suspected of neglecting his civic duties. Being a follower of Christ has had an impact on his economic situation. Perhaps this is a form of persecution.
Two other stonemasons feared that something similar might happen to them. They admitted that Peter’s act of denying his allegiance to Jesus had some economic attraction in the present climate, but they also noted Peter’s sorrow over having betrayed his master. They thought it beneficial to their own situation that Kalandion and other prominent citizens are known to worship both the emperor and Christ. As a consequence, being known as a Christian does not necessarily indicate to others one’s attitude toward emperor worship. As long as these signals are given out, perhaps the reputation of Christians will not degenerate further, and worshipers of Jesus can quietly carry out their work without penalty.