PAUL’S FIRST STOP IN EUROPE:  PHILIPPI

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, OP

Sometime during the summer of AD 48 Paul sailed from Troas. This would have been his first journey by sea. Like all his contemporaries he would have faced it with trepidation. This time, however, he was lucky. They made the crossing to Neapolis, the port of Philippi, in two days, having overnighted on the island of Samothrace. On other occasions it was a different story. Paul tells us laconically, “Three times I have been shipwrecked; once I spent a night and a day adrift at sea” (2 Corinthians 11:25).

Philippi was Paul’s first foundation in Europe. As he walked the 10 miles from Neapolis the milestones would have reminded him that he was returning to the familiar territory of a Roman colony. The bi-lingual milestones near the port gave way to exclusively Latin ones as he approached the city. Retired Roman legionaries had been settled there by both Marc Antony and Augustus. Presumably the propaganda of ‘the man from Macedonia’ had led Paul to expect something similar to Troas. If so, he would have been disappointed. Philippi was so small that one could walk across it in 10 minutes.

It was Paul’s custom when he entered virgin territory to look first for the Jewish synagogue. His message of salvation was open to Jews, but he knew that some pagans tended to cluster around the synagogue. They were drawn by its austere monotheism, which contrasted vividly with the often disgusting behaviour of the gods and godesses of the Greco-Roman pantheon. Paul sought them out because they were formed in the Jewish scriptures, and could understand his arguments from prophecy regarding the Messiah.

Curiously there was no synagogue in Philippi. Paul found only a group of Jewish women (presumably married to pagans), who met to pray on Saturdays down by the river. They had attracted a pagan woman, Lydia of Thyatira, who was in Philippi on business. Her hometown in Asia Minor was famous in the wool trade, and she specialized in purple dyed textiles, which were luxury items. It is not known whether she travelled on her own account or was the agent for a firm in Thyatira. In any case she was a vigorous, independent woman running an important business.

Lydia became a convert, but the masterful side of her character remained unchanged. She decided Paul’s mission in the city would be much more efficient if he had a businesswoman to run things for him. She insisted he and his companions, Timothy and Silas, should live in her house. This meant that they did not have to look for accomodation or jobs. They could preach full time. Then she used her contacts to guarantee an audience.

Women put an indelible stamp on the church of Philippi. When Paul looked back on his days in Philippi what he remembered above all was “your partnership in the gospel from the first day [in Europe] until now” (Philippians 1:5). No other church is given such a compliment.

Later in the letter Paul underlines the prominence of women in the evangelization of Philippi, “I entreat Euodia and I entreat Syntyche to agree in the Lord. And I ask you Syzygus really to be a ‘partner’and help them. These women have struggled hard at my side for the gospel with Clement and the rest of my co-workers” (Philippians 4:2-3).

The verb used by Paul to describe the activity of the two ladies has given us ‘athlete’ and ‘athletics’. It highlights the energy and committment that they invested in the spread of the gospel. They preached it in precisely the same way that Paul, Clement, and others did. No distinction is made between the contributions of men and those of women. They were all ‘co-workers’.

There was much to be corrected in all Paul’s churches but only here does he name individuals. This is correctly interpreted to mean that it was not a private matter. These women were powerful heads of house churches, whose disagreement was likely to infect their followers and so endanger the unity of the community.

Another feature makes Philippi unique, and I attribute it to the role played by women in the running of the church. They had the sensitivity to realize that other cities might not offer Paul such favourable circumstances for ministry. The harder he had to work to earn a living, the less time he would have to preach. Thus Philippi resolved to send him financial support on a regular basis. They certainly subsidized his ministry in Thessalonica, Corinth, and Ephesus.

PAUL’S FIRST INDEPENDENT MISSION

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, OP

After they returned to Antioch-on-the-Orontes Barnabas and Paul had a disagreement, after which they went their separate ways. It cannot have been a major issue, because several years later they worked harmoniously together.

Paul recruited Silas (or Silvanus), and set off for Antioch-in-Pisidia. Clearly he intended to use it as a springboard to the west, as Barnabas and he had planned on the first expedition. This first independent journey took Paul into Greece. Only at the very end do we get a fixed date. He met the proconsul Gallio in Corinth in August AD 51. From it we work backwards, trying to fit everything in by guesswork. The beginning of this journey cannot be later than the spring of AD 46 when the snow had melted from the Cilician Gates and the high country beyond.

From Antioch-in-Pisidia Paul and Silas intended to follow the great ‘Common Highway’ down to Ephesus, the capital of the Roman province of Asia. For some reason this proved to be impossible. As an alternative they decided to strike north into the Roman province of Bithynia on the shores of the Black Sea. They never made it.

After crossing the bleak steppe known as the ‘Treeless Land’ and fording the river Sangarios (modern Sakaria) Paul fell seriously ill. With great difficulty Silas managed to get him to Pessinus (modern Balahissar) the nearest town.

No doubt it was some time before Paul recovered enough to fully realize where he was. The inhabitants of Pessinus were Galatians, the descendants of a Celtic tribe that had left the Pyrenees in the fourth century BC and settled in central Turkey in 278 BC. The Galatians fascinated the Romans, who had fought against them, and an array of sources permits us to see how Paul’s contemporaries would have seen them.

They were large, unpredictable simpletons, instinctively generous, ferocious and highly dangerous when angry, but without stamina and easy to trick. They were the archetypal barbarians. They had never been Hellenized. Rome had imposed its administrative system directly onto Celtic tribal structures. They continued to speak a Celtic dialect into the fourth century AD. Those in the three cities would have known some Greek.

Paul would never have chosen to evangelize such an alien people. As one might have expected, however, he made the best of it. It would have been a slow business. The Celts are adverse to accepting anything novel, particularly something as radical as a new perspective on religion. That he shared no common ground with them made his task all the more difficult. There were no synagogues in the area, and he so could not count on pagans who had been prepared by study of the Jewish Scriptures as he did elsewhere. Nonetheless after two years hard work he had established a number of house-churches in Pessinus.

Paul knew that he could not afford to stay too long with any new church. His dominant personality would inhibit its normal institutional development. Instead of working things out for themselves, they would have turned to him. Thus in the late spring of AD 48, when the snows had melted and the consequent floods had dried up, Paul headed west. His heart must have been heavy as he left those who had helped him in his hour of need. He did not expect to see them again. At this point in his career Paul believed that his vocation was to found churches and then to leave them in the hands of the Holy Spirit.

Paul’s plan was to make another attempt to get into province of Asia, but this time in the far north. With Timothy and Silas he went through Mysia, which had a separate administration, and came to Troas, a coastal city, which Julius Caesar had once considered a prime candidate as capital of the Roman empire. They would have been exausted after a journey of some 400 miles in the heat of the Anatolian summer.

Troas would have been an ideal apostolate, a large population and excellent communications. But something happened. Luke recounts it in words which later influenced Saint Patrick (Confessions, 3) “A vision appeared to Paul in the night: a man of Macedonia was standing, beseeching him and saying, ‘Come over to Macedonia and help us.’” (Acts 16:9). It is thought that the man was a native of Philippi who had been converted by Paul in Troas, and who persuaded Paul to go home with him.

Even though his mandate from Antioch-on-the-Orontes was to bring the faith to western Asia, Paul could not resist the thought of being the first to evangelize Europe. It was easy for him to convince himself of the providential character of the opportunity.

PAUL’S APPRENTICESHIP

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, OP

Paul’s intense fortnight’s reflection on the historical Jesus with Peter in Jerusalem must have filled him with fervour to tell the story of this extraordinary man. We should have expected Paul to rush into an intense missionary campaign. If so, it took place in Syria and Cilicia, but it has left no trace, and Paul effectively disappears for three years. We pick up his story again around AD 40 when Barnabas recruited him to work in Antioch-on-the-Orontes.

The infant church there had suffered persecution. The mother church in Jerusalem responded by sending a Jewish Cypriot convert called Joseph, to stabilize the demoralized community. His nickname Barnabas (meaning ‘son of consolation’) might explain why he was chosen for the task, or reflect the memory of what he achieved at Antioch.

His bringing Paul to Antioch was a stroke of genius. Paul’s conversion demonstrated that the power of God could turn a persecutor of the church into one of its most fervent members. In him grace was not a theory but a reality. God did work miracles. There was hope for the future. Antioch was to be Paul’s home base for the next decade.

Antioch was one of the most magnificent cities in the Roman empire. Two earthquakes during Paul’s time there did little to tarnish its immense dignity.  No doubt Paul was impressed by its striking buildings and beautiful boulevards, but what he really liked was the tolerant nature of the Christian community. It was a roughly equal mixture of Jewish and pagan converts, and they had worked out a delicate compromise that permitted the two groups to eat together. In the ancient world a shared meal was the most solemn affirmation of unity.

Paul recognized the effort that pagan converts made to love their Jewish brethren. At the same time he believed that the Jewish dietary laws no longer had any salvific value. Once Jesus was recognized as the Messiah there was no further place for the Law. However, given the delicate balance in the community, Paul was not prepared to insist on principle. The dietary laws had been transformed in his mind into merely ethnic customs, and Jewish converts should continue to behave as usual.

After a year, when the community had settled down, Antioch commissioned Barnabas and Paul as missionaries. According to Luke, they went first to Cyprus and then into the heart of modern Turkey. I think it more likely that their plan was to establish bridgehead churches in central Turkey, which would then act as a staging point for a mission to the densely populated western coast.

To reach the high plateau of central Turkey the missionaries had to get through the Taurus Mountains (7000 ft). There was only one pass, the Cilician Gates, which at its narrowest point was only some 60 feet wide, equally divided between the Roman road notched into the cliff and the river. This pass would have been blocked by snow for most of the winter. Travel was really practicable only between late April and September.

Once out into the windswept high country of Anatolia the missionaries tramped along the south side of the great plain of Lycaonia, establishing churches in Lystra, Derbe, and Iconium (modern Konya). Their westernmost foundation was Antioch-in-Pisidia (near modern Yalvaç).

The whole journey from Antioch-on-the-Orontes was roughly 515 miles. If Barnabas and Paul averaged 20 miles per day it would have taken them just over three weeks. They could have been home in two months. This purely theoretical figure, however, makes no allowance for illness, excessive heat, or accidents. Also we must not forget the need to work to pay one’s way or to wait for a caravan when the road was infested with bandits or wolves. Nor do we know how long they spent in each town or village. I would estimate that this mission took between two and four years.

Barnabas was the leader of this expedition. Paul was merely his assistant. Presumably Barnabas carried the ongoing responsibility for these communities. This at least would explain why Paul showed no further interest in any of these churches. Certainly he never wrote to them. He did visit them later but just because they happened to be on his route to the west. On that occasion in Lystra Paul was joined by Timothy, who was to become his closest friend and collaborator. He served as Paul’s eyes and ears on several delicate diplomatic missions.

JESUS THE DEAD MESSIAH

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, OP

Peter must have been deeply touched by Paul’s insatiable curiosity about Jesus. It is likely that Paul’s detailed inquiries brought to the surface of his mind incidents and impressions that he had fogotten. To this extent they delighted in a common quest. There was one important issue, however, on which they might have differed.

The stress that Paul laid on the crucifixion of Jesus set him apart from other preachers among the first Christians. The others mentioned the death of Jesus, and underlined its sacrificial dimension by saying that ‘he died for our sins’. They did not spell out exactly how it had happened. This attitude is perfectly understandable. It was difficult enough to preach a Saviour who had died without apparently achieving anything. It was immensely more difficult to preach a Saviour who had been executed as low class criminal.

Why, then, did Paul make the crucifixion of Jesus, of which he had heard as a Pharisee, the centerpiece of his preaching, when none of his contemporaries did? Just as Paul the Pharisee had seen to the heart of the fundamental opposition between Christianity and Judaism, while Christians did not, so too here Paul’s penetrating intelligence detected a problem that others did not perceive. If Jesus was the Messiah, he should not have died!

All Jews accepted that the Messiah would be the purifying leader of a holy people. He could not possibly be a sinner. His absolute righteousness was taken completely for granted. The Jewish Scriptures, however, taught that death was punishment for sin. It was not integral to human nature. The Book of Wisdom can serve as the representative of a series of texts reaching back to Genesis and forward to the second century AD, “God created humanity in a state of incorruptibility. In the image of his own eternity he made it. But through the devil’s envy death entered the world” (2: 23-24). If the Messiah was not a sinner, then death had no claim on him.

While Jewish scholars, such as Paul, would have been conscious of the force of this argument, the vast majority of Jews would have associated the Messiah with the last great victory of good over evil. The advent of the Messiah was seen as the glorious climax to history beyond which no one thought to venture. Inevitably the Messiah was thought of in terms of eternity. Why should he die?

Paul’s dilemma should now be clear. He recognized Jesus as the Messiah, but he also knew that Jesus had died. Both points were certain. The absolute streak in Paul’s character meant that he could not live with this contradiction. There had to be a resolution, but not by the calculated ambiguity of compartmentalization, nor by the abandonment one or other fact.

Eventually Paul realized that only one solution was possible. If someone on whom death had no claim actually died, then that person must have chosen to die. All other human beings can only accept death, It will take them whether they like it or not. For Paul, Jesus did not suffer that restriction. His death was the result of a personal decision. Thus Paul repeatedly emphasizes that his death was self-sacrifice.

Once Paul had accepted that the death of Jesus was an act of self-sacrifice, a dead sinless Messiah ceased to be a problem. Its modality then became the central issue: why did Jesus choose the most horrible way to die, the agonizing suffering of crucifixion? It goes withoug saying that in posing such a question Paul was working backwards. Jesus did not have to die. But if he did in fact die, and in this particular way, then he must have chosen that form of death. Why?

The standard teaching that Paul inherited insisted that the death of Jesus had benefited humanity. Paul turned this the other way round. Jesus, he believed, intended his death to bring good to others. In Paul’s eyes such altruism could only be explained as an act of love. “He loved me, that is he gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20).

This insight so overwhelmed Paul that henceforward he could not mention the death of Jesus without wanting others to appreciate the extraordinary depth and power of the love it revealed. In practice this meant forcing his hearers and readers to confront the ugly reality of the crucifixion. Hence his vow, “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2: 2).

For Paul Jesus’ death became the key to the meaning of his life. It revealed to Paul that what makes a person genuinely human is the self-sacrificing love shown by Christ. This, above all, is what he wanted his readers to take to heart.

WITH PETER IN JERUSALEM

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, OP

Paul’s departure from Damascus involved both high drama and farce. Probably in the autumn of AD 37 the Roman emperor Gaius (Caligula) gave Damascus to the Nabataeans as part of his reoganization of the eastern frontier of the empire. For some reason Paul felt that this put him at risk. Perhaps he though that they were still after him for his foray into Arabia some three years earlier. In any case he was not prepared to take chances, and prepared to escape. He was afraid to slip out in disguise because the gates of the city were guarded.  Instead he had himself lowered in a basket from a window in the city wall. Was Paul incapable of sliding down a rope? Why did he have to be treated like a baby?

One might have expected Paul to head immediately for a new mission in pagan territory. Instead, he tells us, he went to visit Peter in Jerusalem. This decision took some courage because he would have been remembered as a persecutor by Jerusalem Christians. Understandably he kept a very low profile. He saw only Peter and James the brother of Jesus, and stayed for barely two weeks.

We can hardly imagine that Peter and Paul spent their brief time together discussing the illnesses of their mothers-in-law or the pleasures of fishing on the Sea of Galilee. Paul however, could well have asked him, “How did you get the curious name, Rocky?” because the Aramaic form ‘Kephas’ ( = Petros = Rock), is invariably the name that appears in Paul’s letters. This would have brought them into the middle of the gospel story, and that is what Paul was so desperately interested in.

Peter had lived with Jesus since they were both disciples of John the Baptist. He had now been preaching for seven years, and had certainly developed a comprehensive story about Jesus, highlighting the words and deeds that he thought most important. He was in fact proclaiming a gospel such as was written down by Mark much later. Peter, in other words, was the perfect eyewitness to satisfy Paul’s devouring curiosity about the historical Jesus.

In his letters Paul provides a few ‘facts’ about Jesus. He was a Jew of Davidic descent, who had several married brothers who were missionaries, and who on the night when he was arrested celebrated a final meal with his disciples. These, however, are but the tip of the iceberg. Paul would have told the story of Jesus orally in much greater detail when he founded churches, and there was no need to repeat it. Nonetheless, in his letters we do catch glimpses of what he said.

Paul quotes words of Jesus twice: (1) there should be no divorce, and (2) pastors should accept financial support. In each case, however, Paul does exactly the opposite. He permits divorce, and insists on working for his living rather than demand subsidies. Obviously there is problem here and I shall return to in a later essay.

We might have wished for more explicit citations of words of Jesus, but Paul contents himself with allusions. He had so deeply inculcated the teaching of Jesus that he could be sure that a word or two would be sufficient to evoke in their minds the desired quotation. Thus, by saying “I am not ashamed of the gospel” (Romans 1:16), Paul expected his converts to recall, “Whoever is ashamed of me and my words . . . so the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes” (Mark 8:38).

Paul’s converts would have been proud that he trusted them to remember words of Jesus. They would have felt stronger and more united. Allusions are insider language. Only members of the group can grasp the hidden connection. Allusions, in consequence, have a bonding effect that builds community. In such subtle ways Paul demonstrated his leadership skills.

Paul’s letters also contain incidental references to the behaviour of Jesus. If we put them together it becomes clear that Paul was particularly impressed by two aspects of the personality of Jesus. In his very first letter he singled out the ‘steadfastness’ of Jesus. Later he mentions the ‘fidelity’ of Jesus. Despite hostiliy and suffering Jesus never wavered. His life was ‘an enduring Yes’, not a mixture of Yes and No as our lives are.

In these passages Paul intends to evoke Jesus’ total dedication to his mission. We all know people who are so single-minded in pursuit of a cause that they become cold and distant to others. What Paul saw in Jesus was the exact opposite. He speaks of Jesus’ ‘affection/compassion’, of his ‘meekness and gentleness’, of his ‘love’ and his ‘poverty’. Clearly the Jesus that Paul knew was the Jesus of the miracles, who did everything possible to alleviate pain and misery, while preaching a high ideal of love.

Paul knew that he had a lot to live up to when he said, “Imitate me, as I imitate Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1).

THREE YEARS IN DAMASCUS

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, OP

When Paul rushed off to Arabia immediately after his conversion, he did not know what he was getting into. He acted impulsively without doing his homework on the situation there. A few questions in Damascus would have alerted him to a serious problem. Just at this moment the Nabataeans had very good reason to detest Jews.

The Jewish king of Galilee had repudiated his Nabataean wife. In response her father went to war and defeated the Galileans. They in turn screamed to Rome that the Nabataeans had disturbed the peace of the eastern frontier. The latter were now waiting anxiously for Rome to send its legions from Syria to devastate their country. Naturally they blamed the Jews for their misery.

I would be greatly surprised if Paul lasted a week in Arabia. The minute he opened his mouth he would have been known for what he was. No Jew would have been welcome.

No doubt somewhat chastened Paul returned to Damascus. It was beginning to sink in that to be an apostle of Jesus Christ was perhaps a little more complicated than he had anticipated. Pagans to whom he could preach would not have been a problem in Damascus. Merchants of many nations had trading bases there. Financial support was another matter.

As a student in Jerusalem Paul had lived on charity. Any supplement from his family would have been at risk as soon as he became a Christian. How was he to live? The church in Damascus could not afford to support its new converts, or even to give the impression that it was buying recruits.

Very much against the grain of his upbringing as a member of the leisured class, Paul quickly realized that he needed a marketable skill that would give him mobility. He would have to learn a trade. No doubt he thought long and carefully, and established a careful set of criteria.

It had to be a skill that was needed throughout the Roman empire, in great cities and small villages, on the road, and on the sea. It had to bring him into contact with all sectors of the population. The tools had to be small and easily carried. The job had to be quiet and sedentary so that he could preach as he worked. Finally his choice fell on the trade of tentmaker.

This might seem a curious choice to us, but in fact it was very clever. The essential skill is to join together pieces of canvas or leather in neat turned over seams. There were only six standard stitches. Travellers wore leather cloaks, belts, and sandals, and carried leather gourds. The wagons of the wealthy had canvas tops and leather tack. Paul could repair them all. He could thus pay his way on the great roads of the Greco-Roman world.

Experienced sea travellers knew that cargo ships had no cabins. So they brought small tents that they set up on deck to protect themselves from sun and spray. The tents also provided shelter when the ship docked at night. Paul could earn his passage by patching sails.

More importantly every town and village had its festival, and had to provide tented accomodation for visitors and traders. Corinth, for example, hosted the Isthmian Games, which were second in importance only to the Olympic Games. Every second year in the spring a hugh tent city blossomed at Isthmia (9 km from the city) to cater for the 50,000 or so visitors from all over the Greek world. Their needs were met by merchants from Corinth who lived in their booths for the week. To meet its obligations the municipality of Corinth employed tentmakers all the year round. It was there that Paul first worked with Prisca and Aquila, who had been converted in Rome, and were to become his advance party first in Ephesus and later in Rome.

The need to earn his way would often have slowed Paul’s departure from an inn in the morning. He could not afford to refuse work. But that might mean that he would not cover the 25 Roman miles to the next inn by nightfall. He tells us that he often had “sleepless nights, in hunger and thirst, often without food, cold and badly dressed” (2 Corinthians 11:27). He had been caught in the open. He might have been desperately tired when he tramped into a strange town, but first he had to find food, a place to live, and above all a job. In the slums there was little charity. Paul needed extraordinary courage and stamina to struggle on day after day, “on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, in danger in the city, in danger in the wilderness, in danger at sea” (2 Corinthians 11:26).

PERSECUTOR OF CHRISTIANS

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, OP

Paul arrived in Jerusalem about AD 15. His conversion can be dated to AD 33. Since Pharisees ventured outside Jerusalem for only brief periods, we can safely assume that Paul spent these 18 years in the Holy City. This means Paul and Jesus were in Jerusalem at the same time. Jesus had made several visits before being crucified there on 7 April AD 30. Did they ever meet? Paul would certainly have told us if the answer was ‘Yes’.

His silence confirms two insights. First, Paul refused all and every distraction from his studies. Just as the Ultra Orthodox yeshiva students were not aware of the presence of Anwar Sadat in Jerusalem in mid-November 1977, he would not have wasted his time listening to a Galilean labourer who had no rabbinic qualifictions. Second, Jesus made little or no impact on Jerusalem. With the possible exception of Nicodemus, we know of no converts in the Holy City.

Paul became conscious of the figure of Jesus only after the passion, resurrection and Pentecost, when his followers began to make inroads into the Jewish population. The proslytising mission of the first Christians was very low-key. There was nothing brutal or disruptive. They believed that their new faith was the full flowering of Judaism. Thus they continued to live as Jews who cherished all the traditional values and customs. They differed from other Jews only in what they added. They celebrated the Eucharist in their homes, and they proclaimed that Jesus was the Messiah. They won over people, not by propaganda, but by the quality of their lives.

The Jewish authorities found the appearance of a new group disturbing. In the light of what they foresaw as a major struggle against Rome, any further fragmentation of Judaism could only be construed as a danger to the survival of the people. Thus it is not suprising that the first Christians were persecuted by the High Priest and the Sadducees. The only one to speak out in their defense was Gamaliel, the leader of the Pharisees. He argued that if the Jesus movement was not from God, it would eventually wither away and disappear, but that if it was from God, those who opposed it would be offending God. He did not believe that it was time for action. The authorities should wait and see.

Alone among Gamaliel’s followers Paul refused to follow the party line, and struck out against the Christians. He was temperamentally incapable of the temporizing attitude of his leader. Moreover, he saw clearly that the situation was ‘either-or’, not ‘both-and’ as the Christians believed. Their acceptance of Jesus as the Messiah had implications for Judaism that they had failed to recognize.

Like all Jews of the period Paul believed that the Messiah would come one day. The present was the ‘Time of the Law’ in which the Mosaic code dictated behaviour. At some unspecified time in the future the Messiah would arrive to inaugurate the ‘Time of the Messiah’. The most specific characteristic of the ‘Time of the Messiah’ was that all Jews would be righteous. There would be no sinners among them.

With his usual clarity of vision Paul saw that this meant that there would be no need for the Law in the ‘Time of the Messiah’.  Not all Jews were so perceptive. The Law had become so central that they could not conceive life without it. Thus they said that in the ‘Time of the Messiah’ the Law would be written on the hearts of all. For Paul’s black or white mentality this was just playing with words. When the Messiah arrived what they all knew as the Law would no longer exist.

As far as Paul was concerned, by proclaiming Jesus as the Messiah, the Christians were in effect saying that the Law no longer had any place in the lives of Jews. This could not possibly be correct. Jesus had not done any of the things that the Pharisees expected of the Messiah. Therefore, he was a fake and his followers had been led astray.

Paul’s commitment to the Law was so absolute that his conscience obliged him to attempt to bring Christians back to the way of truth. He himself tells us that his persecution of the church was the proof of his ‘zeal’. Contrary to what Luke tells us in the Acts of the Apostles, he had no authority to arrest, imprison or execute.         He could only make the lives of Christians a misery by repeated challenges and vociferous argument.

A PHARISEE IN JERUSALEM

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, OP

As a teenager in Tarsus Paul was pulled in two directions. On one hand there were all the attractions of a Roman provincial capital, which, moreover, lay on one of the great trade-routes of antiquity linking Syria and points east with Asia Minor and the Aegean. Paul’s secular studies gave him access to this cosmopolitan world, but his Jewish studies imposed restrictions. The dietary laws were designed to make association with pagans difficult, if not impossible. For example, Paul could have a drink with friends only if he brought the bottle. Jews were forbidden to drink non-kosher wine.

At about the age of twenty, in an effort to dominate this tension, Paul decided to live for a while in a completely Jewish world. Presumably with the financial support of his parents he travelled to Jerusalem. Once there he was immediately conscious of the difference. The city shone with the new stone of Herod the Great’s rebuilding program of palaces and houses. The temple he built was not only stunningly beautiful, but was the largest religious complex in the Greco-Roman world. All these were Jewish achievements, and Paul’s heart swelled with pride. No longer was he merely tolerated as one of a minority in the Diaspora, he belonged. He realized in some indefinable way that he was home. But what was he to do? How was he to insert himself into the life of the city?

He did not have much of a choice. The Sadducees would not have welcomed him because he had neither priestly blood or a large bank account. The Essenes would have been glad of a new convert, but Paul gave them scant consideration. They were a fringe group and he had no desire to be again a member of a minority, even though this time it was within Judaism. The Pharisees were the only group that offered any hope of fulfiling Paul’s ambition to get to the roots of his Jewishness. They had made it their goal to forge a new social and religious identity for Jews in a developing and changing world. To this end they did everything possible to clarify the demands of the Mosaic Law in matters of daily domestic life. Over two-thirds of their surviving teachings concern the dietary laws, ritual purity for meals, and the quality and tithing of agricultural produce.

Pharisees tended to congregate in groups. Observance of the dietary laws was greatly facilitated if all were committed to the same high standards in the selection and preparation of food. Moreover, the Pharisees had realized that the best way to work out exactly what the Law meant was by vigorous debate which thoroughly explored all possible options. They also devised a way of continuously moving ahead. Solutions that had been generally accepted became part of the Oral Law, the body of interpretation that grew up around the Written Law of the Bible, and which was equally authoritative.

The hothouse intensity of this way of life appealed greatly to Paul’s idealism. It was a challenge that he could not refuse. Nonetheless commitment took courage. He would have been well formed in the Written Law by his education at Tarsus, but a Pharisee had also to know the Oral Law. Paul had a lot to catch up. He had to learn hundreds, if not thousands, of legal opinions on a vast array of topics, if he was to be able to argue convincingly. None of his classmades had wasted time studying pagan rhetoric. This gave them a head start of ten or even fifteen years.

Undaunted, Paul plunged in with the whole-hearted commitment that was one of his salient characteristics. Much later, when he looked back on a way of life that he had long since abandoned, he could not hide a note of smug complacency in his success, “I advanced in Judaism beyond many of my own age among my people, so extremely zealous was I for the traditions of my fathers” (Galatians 1:14). He could not claim to be the best absolutely. It was enough to be top of his age group.

This success tells us two things. He was a full-time student, who lived on charity (there would have been no time to earn a living), and he was married. Since God commanded all to marry (Genesis 1:28), celibacy was not an option. Paul could not have been the success he claimed had he remained unmarried into his twenties. As an outsider who wanted to be accepted he had to conform.

Why does he never mention his wife and children? I can only think that they died in an accident so traumatic that he sealed off their memory for ever. It was too painful to be revisited, and too sacred to be disclosed to others. In any case, Paul never remarried.