Approaches to ancient texts that focus exclusively on speech are inherently imbalanced. Far from simply an innocuous absence of language, silence can carry thundering significances. Yet, these meanings are not always obvious, and they can be especially difficult to interpret in texts, without attendant non-verbal cues such as facial expressions or gestures. How can New Testament interpreters best discern and describe the interwoven words, whispers, silences and subtexts of ancient narratives? In this article, I seek to build on my earlier narratological study of speech and silence, Silent Statements: Narrative Representations of Speech and Silence in the Gospel of Luke. There, I demonstrate how focusing on silences as well as speech enriches our understanding of the narratological dimensions of Luke's Gospel, including Lukan plot, characterisation, theme(s) and readerly experience(s). The obvious next step is to extend this work to the Lukan sequel. The guiding question of this article is therefore: how do speech and silence contribute to the narrative rhetoric of the Acts of the Apostles?

The following article is part of an essay trilogy dealing with space and spatial concepts in the New Testament. In this trilogy, the spatial thematic approach is profiled as an interface for political, social-historical and theological–christological questions. The article illustrates how this interface function works in the basileia theme in Matthew and Luke.

A precise temporal (and sometimes topographical) scheme is found behind Second Corinthians at three levels: (i) 1–7 (past: Ephesus → Macedonia), 8–9 (present: Macedonia), 10–13 (future: Macedonia → Corinth); (ii) 2.12–7.16 (Troas (2.12–13) → the Hellespont (2.14–7.4) → Macedonia (7.5–16)); (iii) 2.14–7.4. For (i)-(ii), see 1 Thess 1–3 and 2.17–3.10. For (iii), I detail this temporal structure: (a) 3.1–18 → 4.1–6; (b) 4.7–5.10 → 5.11–13; (c) 5.14–6.10 → 6.11–7.4, viz. (a) Paul's initial call and (b) his life in the present and future → his general missionary practice, including to ‘you’, and (c) his now directly addressing ‘you’ with strong paraenesis.

Στάσις is an important theme in Luke-Acts, but one that remains understudied. Many Lukan scholars equate στάσις with Roman seditio or treason, thereby overlooking the rich philosophical reflection on στάσις in Greek political thought. In this article, I analyse Luke's use of the concept of στάσις in his depiction of Jesus’ trial against the background of Thucydides’ model of στάσις in book 3 of his history. Thucydides’ reflections on στάσις were highly influential for later historians such as Josephus, and I argue that Luke too employs the common topos of στάσις as a violent internal conflict and not an act of rebellion or insurrection to reveal how the conflict between Jesus and his opponents is symptomatic of a deeper inversion of social bonds and language within a community. He does this, I argue, to set the stage for the story of Acts where στάσεις erupt throughout the Empire wherever the gospel is preached.

This article examines early Christian theories about the identity and role of Mark as transmitter of Petrine tradition. Building upon recent work in classics, it argues that the identification of Mark as Peter's interpreter, the description of his composition as lacking order and his reported excellent memory would have led ancient readers of Papias to conclude that Mark was performing literate servile work. The positioning of Mark in this way strengthened claims about the accuracy of Mark's text.

The Gospels tell of Simon of Cyrene/Jesus carrying a σταυρός on the way to crucifixion. In the recent years influential scholars such as Gunnar Samuelsson and John Granger Cook entered a discussion about what we can know about crucifixion and what it was that Jesus carried. Often, scholars assume that carrying a σταυρός was a common crucifixion practice, and refer to a few Greek sources as parallels. Yet, do these sources speak of cross-bearing? In this article it is argued that possibly three of the sources could be counted as parallels to cross-bearing practices represented in the Gospels.

This article argues that Acts 15 alludes both to commandments associated with Noah and pentateuchal legislation on the gerim, though without consistently developing either of these allusions. As a result, this chapter presents the Way as a novel movement that both corresponds with and transcends familiar categories. By discussing Acts’ simultaneous evoking and negation of other models (voluntary associations, Bacchic mystery cults, philosophical schools and ethnic groups), I argue that Acts 15 reflects a literary strategy evident throughout Acts. This strategy enabled the author of Acts to anchor the Way into the structures and traditions of the early Roman Empire.

Building on the works of Richard Bauckham and Tal Ilan, this paper argues that the name Cleophas in Luke 24.18 (Gk Κλεοπᾶς) and Clopas (Gk Κλωπᾶς) in John 19.25 points to the same historical person, the father of a key leader of the Jerusalem church at the end of the first century. By making anew this assumption we have a possible access to Luke's redactional and theological work in the Emmaus narrative. Even if the whole passage is governed by Luke's literary skills and theological interests, it does have traditional support in the legitimation story that Jesus had indeed appeared to Cleophas. Luke's choice of that name is doubly smart: it highlights the respect the Pauline churches have for the Judean churches in the spirit of Rom 9–11 and establishes the legitimacy of his own sophisticated narrative through a known Judean Christian.

Within the holdings of the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library at the University of Toronto there is a curious, rarely examined handwritten book entitled Opera Evangelica, containing translations of several apocryphal works in English. It opens with a lengthy Preface that provides an antiquarian account of Christian apocrypha along with a justification for translating the texts. Unfortunately, the book's title page gives little indication of its authorship or date of composition, apart from an oblique reference to the translator as ‘I. B.’ But citations in the Preface to contemporary scholarship place the volume around the turn of the eighteenth century, predating the first published English-language compendium of Christian apocrypha in print by Jeremiah Jones (1726). A second copy of the book has been found in the Cambridge University Library, though its selection of texts and material form diverges from the Toronto volume in some notable respects. This article presents Opera Evangelica to a modern audience for the first time. It examines various aspects of the work: the material features and history of the two manuscripts; the editions of apocryphal texts that lie behind its translations; the views expressed on Christian apocrypha by its mysterious author; and its place within manuscript publication and English scholarship around the turn of the eighteenth century. Scholars of Christian apocrypha delight in finding ‘lost gospels’ but in Opera Evangelica we have something truly unique: a long-lost collection of Christian apocrypha.

The combination of two seemingly simple and commonly used words causes problems of understanding in a specific syntactic unit. The precise meaning of the phrase σὺ λέγεις appears to be unclear. A detailed semantic analysis indicates a certain and clear meaning of this phrase. It occurs in all four canonical Gospels as Jesus’ answer within the judicial proceedings leading up to his crucifixion. Consequently, it is of fundamental importance to understanding Jesus’ trial. The semantic analysis of the phrase σὺ λέγεις presented in this article offers a new basis for the discussion of the question whether Jesus may be seen as confessus according to Roman law.

The Cornelius incident (Acts 10.1–11.18) has traditionally been read as a narrative marking the abolition or transgression of Jewish food and purity laws in early Christianity. Strong halakic statements made by Peter himself and by some of his opponents in fact seem to claim that halakic norms have been abrogated or violated. The article suggests however that these statements should not be read as accurate descriptions of facts, but instead as examples of ‘unreliable narration’: using this technique, a narrator deliberately introduces misjudgements and distorted perceptions of reality on the side of his main character in order to temporarily mislead his readers, only to unmask the deception in the later course of his narrative. It turns out that Peter's refusal of food offered in a vision as well as his halakic judgements on the ‘impurity of gentiles’ and the prohibition of table fellowship are misconceptions, based not on biblical pretexts or Jewish halakah, but purely on social convention. The narrative therefore does not describe the abolition or transgression of halakic boundaries, but invites the reader to make a proper distinction between halakic boundaries (which are to be kept) and social conventions (which in this case need to be transgressed).

The meaning of χλωρός in Rev 6.8 has been given a variety of interpretations (green, yellow, pale, vigorous etc.) due to its polysemic character; that is, it possesses a chromatic as well as an achromatic meaning and, in addition, if it denotes colour, can express a wide spectrum of hues. From this arises the need for a methodology that offers not merely a gloss, but rather a ‘meaning’. This methodology is based on: an analysis of the text; the use of the term; the concept of colour that existed in antiquity and the entity in which the colour was embodied; and the use of various lexicographical tools provided by the field of cognitive linguistics.

The level of scepticism met by the concept of macro-chiasm in ancient literature is noticeably lower today than two decades ago, with sizable agreement coalescing around certain examples. One such example is found in the synoptic double-tradition material as it is preserved in Luke's Gospel, which provides the methodological foundation for the reconstruction of the hypothetical synoptic source document Q. This article explores the study of the macro-chiasm identified in Luke (Q) 3.7–7.35 and its implications for the synoptic problem. It also addresses the methodological considerations advanced by S. E. Porter and J. T. Reed in their NTS article two decades ago, meeting a certain stipulation placed by them upon subsequent scholarship.

In popular culture, the Pauline texts referring to ‘peace’ are illustrated by serene and tranquil scenes. I shall argue that to Paul's first readers, ‘peace’ evoked rather different images – military victories, arrests of criminals and the unloading of corn. I argue this because of how εἰρήνη is normally used in documentary papyri, that is personal letters, administrative documents and other non-literary written material. I explain my method and then present the papyrological evidence, including references to the various ‘peace-officials’. I argue that εἰρήνη meant something like ‘good order’. I use this insight to interpret Rom 5.1 and Phil 4.7.

For over a century, studies on Marcion have cited a quotation attributed to him in a fragmentary Syriac manuscript: London, British Library, Add. 17215 (fols. 30–3). An English translation of the relevant passage appeared in 1893, but no subsequent study has returned to the Syriac text itself. While this text has hitherto been cited as an anonymous Syriac source, this article identifies it as a letter by Jacob of Serugh (d. 520/1) and offers preliminary remarks on the implications of this identification for future research on Marcion's Gospel and his thought.

This article argues that one of the central theses of the counter-imperial reading of Paul has been more asserted than proved – namely, the thesis that Paul disguised anti-imperial sentiments in his letters specifically because speaking out against imperial authorities was too dangerous. This claim is the basic assumption behind the search in Paul's letters for ‘hidden’ or ‘coded’ transcripts. Such an approach can be found in the works of Warren Carter, N. T. Wright, and Richard Horsley, among others. But how likely is it that Paul would have felt the need to encode his anti-imperial sentiments? Was there really a risk that Roman soldiers would have intercepted Paul's mail or prosecuted him for its contents? Is the ‘hidden transcript’ idea an anachronistic concept based on modern surveillance states and transposed into the ancient world? This paper questions how likely it is that Rome's provincial governments would have had the inclination or ability to police private correspondence for seditious sentiments. From there, we can determine whether Paul is speaking as openly as he wants or is in fact protecting himself using ‘hidden transcripts’.

The widespread disagreement about where the Ephesian household code begins is largely based on an equally widespread agreement that the original text of Eph 5.22 has no verb. This article addresses the former by challenging the latter. Treating the textual problem as a choice between three rather than two readings means that ὑποτασσέσθωσαν emerges as the reading that is best attested, the more difficult, and the one that best explains the others. The result is a smooth flow throughout this section of Ephesians.

The Acts narrative's characterisation of Julius evokes the circumstances of Socrates, specifically the end of his life, at which point his prison guard – who exhibits a fondness for Socrates – allows his friends to visit and care for him. The credibility of this reading is strengthened by situating Acts 27 amid other Socratic characterisations of Paul in Acts 17–26, 28. By understanding Julius’ characterisation in this way, readers can regard Paul as a Socratic figure even during his sea voyage and shipwreck. This reading is more credible than others that attribute the characterisation of Julius to the narrative's positive disposition towards centurions.

In this article, I argue that Leviticus 16 and early Jewish Day of Atonement traditions have influenced the imagery of the sheep and the goats in Matt 25.31–46. The ritual shading that this judgement scene acquires in light of its use of Yom Kippur imagery fits well into Matthew's overarching interest in moral purity. The drama of moral impurity in the Gospel of Matthew concludes with the Son of Man's eschatological purgation of iniquity from the cosmos in a manner reminiscent of the yearly expulsion of moral impurity from Israel's temple by means of the scapegoat ritual. Building on the insights of scholars who have attempted to demonstrate Matthew's knowledge of Son of Man traditions attested in the Parables of Enoch, this article also contends that Azazel traditions contained in that same Enochic booklet have influenced the portrayal of the goats’ banishment in Matt 25.41, a conclusion that becomes more probable in light of Matthew's unique application of the Asael tradition attested in 1 En. 10.4 at the end of his Parable of the Wedding Feast (Matt 22.13).

In studies of Pauline reception, most scholars limit themselves to works in the second or early third century (often ending with Irenaeus or the Acts of Paul) and to material from the Latin West and Greek East. Although later Syriac sources are rarely engaged, those who do work on this material have long recognised the importance of Paul's letters for that material. The present argument aims to help broaden the dominant discourse on Pauline reception by attending to early Syriac sources, principally the work of Aphrahat the Persian Sage. I focus in particular on his discussion of baptism and marriage in Dem. 7.18–20, which has confounded scholars over the years. This passage displays a kind of Pauline ‘logic’ indebted to 1 Cor 7.20, which can be discerned among other early Christian applications of that passage in similar contexts, in both East and West.